Rogues in Texas 01- A Rogue In Texas

by Lorraine Heath

  She cast a suspicious glance at Harry before cautiously lowering herself into a chair. “All right. Explain it.”

  Grayson leaned back in his chair. He had no need to hear the explanation as Kit had talked of nothing else during their journey. Grayson heard the wind howl, a low ominous shriek. They had come up from the south and he’d almost taken a detour by Abbie’s…even if it entailed no more than catching a glimpse of her from a distance. But in the end, he’d decided against it. It was bad enough that he was in the town—just for one night, Harry had promised. Then they would be on their way—

  “Are you out of your mind?” Harry snapped.

  Grayson jerked his attention to those sitting at the table. Harry looked like a cotton boll on the verge of bursting.

  Jessye crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s my money.”

  “But you can’t go on a cattle drive with men.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re a woman. Your reputation—”

  “I’ve worked in a saloon since I was twelve. I’ve got no reputation.”

  Harry waved his uninjured hand in the air. “ Kit , Gray , explain to her why she can’t go with us.”

  She barked out her throaty laughter. “I don’t trust your friends any more than I trust you. For all I know this venture is no different than you skimming a card from the bottom of the deck. If I invest my money, then I will dog your every step—closer than your shadow.” She scraped her chair back and stood. “So think on that, English. If my money goes, so do I.”

  She stormed back to the bar, her balled fists swinging at her sides.

  Kit began to gather up his papers. “Well, so much for that brilliant idea.”

  Harry simply leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Where does a man’s shadow rest when he sleeps?”

  Staring at his friend, Grayson clenched his teeth to stop his mouth from dropping open. “You aren’t seriously considering allowing her to go with us.”

  Harry shrugged. “Why not? She knows the state. She’s good enough with a gun to be able to teach you how to use it. She’s not squeamish.”

  “She could get hurt.”

  “She could also get wealthy enough to leave this life behind.”

  Grayson turned to Kit for support. “What do you think?”

  He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “I think if we combined the money we received from the cotton—”

  “Mine’s gone,” Harry said quietly.

  Grayson shifted in his chair. “I…I sent mine to Westland …to cover expenses—”

  Kit raised his hand. “Enough said. Then I don’t see that we have much choice. We’ve seldom painted ourselves as responsible.” He cut his gaze to Harry . “Your latest debacle—”

  “I can’t stand it when you get so intolerably righteous. I suppose you’re going to tell us that you still have your money,” Harry said.

  “No, but what I did with it is my business, not yours. Suffice it to say that it was needed elsewhere, so elsewhere it went.”

  Harry grimaced. “Sorry. If I’d been honest and told you I had no money, you no doubt would have held onto it—”

  “Keeping it was never a consideration. So—” He slapped his hands on the table. “Gentlemen, I don’t see that we have a choice. The woman goes with us.”

  Reluctantly Grayson nodded. He didn’t like the idea of exposing a woman to danger—even if she seemed capable of taking care of herself.

  Harry leaned back in his chair, raised an arm, and snapped his fingers. Jessye looked toward him and gave him a look that said, You can do that until hell freezes over; I ain’t no dog.

  Harry groaned. “God, she is stubborn.” He stood. “Jessye love, come here. Please.”

  She sauntered over as though she already knew how their private discussion had ended. She came to a stop, threw out her hip, and planted her hand on it. “Yes?”

  As gentlemen, Kit and Grayson both stood.

  “You may come with us,” Harry said.

  She smiled brightly. “You won’t regret it.”

  Kit cleared his throat. “We do have some details to work out, but we’d like to leave—”

  A loud bang had them all glancing around. A gust of wind made the doors of the saloon swing open.

  “Lord, we got us a thunderstorm kicking up,” Jessye said.

  Grayson realized now that the howling had grown louder. Outside, it looked like night had fallen. He pulled his watch from his pocket. It was only three in the afternoon. Dread pierced him. “When we were in Galveston , an old fisherman said that a storm was coming, a hurricane—”

  “Good Lord!” Jessye rushed to the window and looked out. “We gotta let people know so they can board up their windows.” She turned to address the room. “Fellas! Listen up. We might have us a hurricane coming. We need to get the word out.”

  Grayson watched in amazement as men scrambled from the tables, knocking over chairs in their haste to get out the door. He had no idea how many families those few men could warn.

  “I’m gonna ride south and warn the Westlands,” Jessye said. “They’ll be hit first.”

  “I’m going with you,” Grayson said.

  Jessye’s wide eyes and trembling voice told him more than he wanted to know about this storm. He only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

  18

  W hy today? Why today? Why today?

  The wind whipping around her, Abbie stood on the front porch, wondering why John couldn’t have taken Johnny fishing yesterday or tomorrow. She felt the big fat raindrops hit her as the black ominous clouds rolled in, one over the other as though they were trying to win a race.

  “Ma?”

  “Go back inside, Lydia .”

  “Where’s Johnny ?”

  “They’ll be here. Now go inside.”

  “Will you come inside, too?”

  “In a minute.”

  Her heart was thundering louder than nature’s roar. Then she saw the riders galloping through the storm while the wind lashed at them. They grew nearer and Abbie’s breath caught. It couldn’t be—?

  But dear God, it was!

  She flew off the steps, straight into Grayson’s comforting arms. He nudged her toward the house, yelling over the wind. “Get into the house, Abbie.”

  She dug in her heels and drew back, shaking her head fiercely. “ John took Johnny fishing. They haven’t come back.” She looked at Jessye, a plea in her eyes. “They haven’t come back.”

  “I’ll watch the young ’uns. You take my horse.” Jessye handed her the reins and raced to the house.

  Abbie took a step toward the skittish mare and felt someone jerk her back. She looked up into Grayson’s angry face.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he roared.

  “I’ve got to find John and Johnny .”

  “I’ll find them. You get in the house.”

  “You don’t know where they might be. I do.”

  He spread his hand over her stomach. “Sweetheart, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Tears stung her eyes because she knew he wasn’t only thinking of her. Dear God, how could a mother choose? She couldn’t, not consciously. She only knew that she had to find Johnny . “They should have been home by now. John promised if it rained—”

  “Bloody damned hell!” He hoisted her into the saddle. “You stay near me!” he ordered before mounting his own horse.

  But she knew where they needed to go. She urged the horse forward, taking one last look at the house, and the two small faces pressed to the window. She saw Jessye running around the house, slamming shutters closed, barring them against the storm, and she knew at least two of her children would be safe.

  The copse of trees offered them some protection from the storm, the thick tree trunks forming a barrier against the wind, but above them the branches danced wildly. They journeyed until they reached the bank of the river, the spot where Grayson had gone fishing with the boys so long ago. The water
slapped unmercifully against the shore, rising over the bank. She knew it was only a prelude…the black heart of the storm had not yet arrived.

  She followed the course of the river north as it fought its own battle against the storm, the water cresting, lifted by the wind, pounded back down by the rain. And then she saw it—what she had dreaded, what she had feared.

  The wreck of a boat, splintered boards beating against the shore, seeking refuge they would never again find. Tears sprang to her eyes, her throat tightened. Without thought, without care, she dismounted. Grayson was beside her before she’d taken a step.

  “It’s their boat!” she cried.

  He gave a nod and turned back to the horses, securing the slippery reins to a wet branch. She sloshed through the mud, slipping, losing her balance until she reached the water’s edge. “ Johnny !”

  The water was black, as black as death, the sky an ominous gray.

  “ Johnny !” she cried again, the tears clogging her throat.

  “ Johnny !” she heard Grayson shout. “ Westland !”

  His voice was so much deeper, carried so much farther but the unforgiving wind caught the sound and swallowed it whole.

  He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into the curve of his body, sheltering her from the storm as much as he was able. She searched his face for the answer she didn’t want.

  “The current could have carried the boat here,” he said in a low, strained voice, close enough to her face that she could hear. “They might have made it to safety farther upstream.”

  She looked past him to the turbulent river. What if they were going in the wrong direction? What if they had floated with the boat, floated downstream?

  “Maybe we should split up—”

  He shook his head.

  “But what if they aren’t up there?”

  He voiced no answer for there was no need. The bleakness in his blue eyes told her that their only hope lay farther up the river. She fought back the tears, set her mouth into a determined line, and nodded.

  For the barest of moments, before he turned, she thought she saw a tear glisten within his eyes.

  Holding the reins to both horses, Grayson followed behind Abbie, reaching for her whenever she slipped.

  “ Johnny !”

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that her son would never hear her voice over the wind. Then she stumbled to a stop and clutched his shirt.

  “There!” she cried, pointing toward a huge boulder in the middle of the river.

  Trees had somehow sprouted out of it. John seemed to be tangled in the brush while Johnny was desperately clinging to a branch.

  Abbie took a step toward the river, and Grayson’s heart rammed against his chest. He jerked her back.

  “We’ve got to help them!” she cried.

  “I’ll help them. You stay here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the horses and breathed a sigh of relief. Jessye had mounted a rope to her saddle. Bless the woman.

  “I’m going farther upstream—”

  “But we found them.”

  “I know, but I can’t swim against the current. I’ll go farther up and let the current carry me down to them.”

  “I should go.”

  He led her away from the bank, to a tree that offered only the slightest protection. He tethered the horses before turning to her and cradling her face, wishing that his hand wasn’t trembling. “You need to wait here for Johnny …and John .”

  She started to speak and he touched his finger to her lips. He reached into his trousers pocket, removed his watch, and pressed it into the palm of her hand. “Just in case…it was my father’s. Give it to my child.”

  Reaching behind her, he grabbed the rope from the saddle and stalked along the river’s edge, trying to judge the river’s flow and how much room he needed to give himself. He began to unwind the rope. It wasn’t as long as he’d hoped. He staggered to a stop, judging the distance.

  He stripped out of his clothes, completely, absolutely, fearing the boy or man might weigh him down enough. He wanted no soggy clothes to add to his burden. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder roared. He tied one end of the rope to a sturdy tree, the other around himself and dove into the river.

  The current was stronger than he’d anticipated, and he’d given no thought to the fact that his shoulder wasn’t fully recovered. He fought the pain, fought the driving current, swimming toward the boulder while the river carried him downstream.

  He saw the huge slab of stone and made a Herculean effort to reach it, bumping along the branches until he was able to grab one to stop himself.

  “ Gray !”

  He pulled himself onto the boulder, clinging to the branches until he was able to reach Johnny . “It’s all right, lad!” he yelled over the roar of the wind.

  “My arms…getting tired.”

  “Hang on just a bit longer, all right?”

  Johnny nodded. Grayson untied the rope from around his waist and tied it beneath Johnny ’s arms. “Let go!” he ordered, pulling Johnny onto the boulder.

  “I think Pa’s dead!”

  “Hold onto this branch.”

  When the boy had a firm grip on the branch, Grayson leaned toward John Westland . The man had a bloodied gash on the side of his head, and he was staring at the sky. Grayson slipped his hand beneath the man’s throat and found a weak pulse. Westland was caught in the trees, high enough that the lapping water didn’t drown him.

  Grayson turned back to Johnny . “He’s not dead.”

  He watched relief wash over Johnny ’s face. “I’ll come back for him. Right now, let’s get you to your mother. The rope will keep you from going downstream. Just swim!”

  Johnny nodded.

  Grayson grabbed the rope, hoping that would be enough to keep him from going downstream, enough to help him push Johnny across the river. They slid from the boulder into the water. Kicking, stroking, swimming toward shore while the rope held them at bay. Gasping for breath, they reached the bank. Abbie slid in the mud, taking Johnny into her arms.

  “Oh, God, oh, God.” She looked at Grayson with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, untying the rope from around Johnny .

  “ John ?” he heard her ask.

  “Hurt but alive.”

  He wrapped the rope around himself and trudged back to his jumping-off point. How much simpler it would have been to have said that the man were dead. Grayson would have had all that he wanted, all that he needed, everyone that he loved.

  Honor was a damnable nuisance.

  Abbie remembered little of the journey home. Johnny had ridden on the horse with her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Grayson had slung John over the other horse and walked.

  She remembered that Jessye had taken Johnny aside when they walked through the house. Warming him with cocoa, she’d gone about drying him and getting him into fresh clothes.

  Grayson had helped her tend to John . John . He was lying in bed now, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling while she dried the ends of his hair.

  “ Johnny says you caught a really big fish, but it got away.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. “Wake up, John . Don’t keep staring like that. It frightens me.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Grayson, who was soaked to the bone, his gaze weary. Tears burned her eyes. “There was cotton in the field. We always have cotton bolls bursting open late in the season. I told him I thought there was a storm coming. He said he’d pick the cotton tomorrow. Now it’s ruined.”

  In four long strides, Grayson crossed the room and took her into his arms. He sank to the floor with her nestled in his lap. She buried her face against his shoulder and let the painful sobs wrack her body. “Oh, God, I would have lost them both if you hadn’t come.”

  He rocked her back and forth, his hands stroking her back. “Shhh, Abbie. It’s all right now.”

  “I was terrified. A
fraid I’d lose them. Afraid I’d lose you. It was like having to choose, a hundred times, over and over—”

  “Shhh. No more choices have to be made. It’s over.”

  But it wasn’t. She heard the wind shrieking, the thunder rumble, and the rain pounding on the roof. Inside she was cold, but outside, she was sheltered by his warmth.

  “You need to get into some dry clothes,” he said.

  “Hold me just a minute longer.”

  His arms tightened around her.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Cattle. We’re going to try our hand at cattle, and we needed someone…to fund our enterprise.”

  “Jessye?”

  “Yes, she plans to go with us.”

  She smiled softly. If anyone could keep these disreputable men in line, it would be Jessye.

  “Now, come on. You’re going to get sick if you don’t get out of these wet things,” he said.

  She drew back. He gave her a halfhearted smile. “I’ll send Jessye in to help you.”

  “Those are hardly the words of a rogue.”

  “They are when the lady’s husband is in the room.”

  His arms tightened around her, and he pressed his mouth to the pulse fluttering at her throat. She heard him swallow before moving back. “Come on. Up with you now,” he said, his voice strained.

  She scrambled out of his lap. “Let me get you some of John ’s clothes to wear.”

  He nodded, but his gaze wandered to her husband, lying so still on the bed. She walked to the wardrobe and opened the door. She heard the low rumble of Grayson’s voice.

  “You know, Westland , it would make things a great deal simpler if you would wake up. This storm is creating a bloody mess. I won’t have a clue as to where I should begin. Are you listening to me? I thought you and I had agreed to make Abbie happy. Well, you’re doing a poor job of it, lying there, staring at the ceiling. I can’t stay forever. My friends and I are going to gather cattle. I don’t want to miss this opportunity—” He glanced over his shoulder as Abbie strolled to the bed, John ’s folded clothes within her hands. “I’m rambling,” Grayson said.

  “Probably helps for him to hear a voice. When I hit my head, I heard the rumble of voices. I just sorta moved toward that sound and woke up. Think I’ll try reading the almanac to him.”