Texas Proud (Vincente 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "I do not use my father's title," Noble said in a placid voice. "I am Senor, or Mr. Noble Vincente, whichever you prefer."

  "Yes, er, Mr. Vincente."

  "You are my mother's attorney?"

  "Yes. I represented her family for many years. It was agreed long before your good mother died that the money held in trust for you and your sister would be under the guardianship of my firm."

  Noble indicated a chair. "Please be seated and feel free to remove your coat. We are not so formal here at Casa del Sol. It is much too hot."

  George Nunn looked grateful. Draping his coat over the back of the chair, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and loosened his tie. "Thank you. I was a bit warm," he said.

  Noble went to the door and spoke hurriedly to Margretta, then moved to the desk and sat down. "My housekeeper will bring you something cool to drink. Unless, of course, you prefer something stronger."

  "It's a bit early in the day for spirits, but something cool would be nice, sir. My throat's so parched it feels like I swallowed half the dust between here and town."

  Noble folded his hands on the desk, hiding his impatience. "You spoke of trusts for my sister and myself. I was not aware that such trusts existed."

  "Oh, yes-yes, indeed they do exist. Your sister's trust is quite substantial, and yours is a very sizable fortune, Mr. Vincente."

  Noble was too stunned to respond. He was glad that Margretta had entered with refreshments, giving him time to gather his thoughts.

  Mr. Nunn took several deep swallows of lem onade and nodded with satisfaction. Setting the glass back on the tray, he turned his attention back to Noble, assuming a businesslike pose. "As you know, your mother's parents, your grandparents, are both dead. They left everything to their only child, your mother."

  "I'm beginning to understand."

  "Your mother's trust states that you are to inherit the money on your twenty-fifth birthday. Of course with the war, we were unable to locate you. Imagine our joy when we learned you had survived and had returned to Casa del Sol."

  "I was never told about any of this, Mr. Nunn. You will understand if I need a moment to grasp what you're telling me."

  Mr. Nunn nodded, leaned back and folded his hands across his ample stomach. "I can well imagine this must be a shock for you."

  "You spoke of my father."

  "The only contact I had with Don Reinaldo Vincente was a bank draft of considerable size along with his last will and testament. His instructions for the trusts were explicit in every detail. Under no circumstances was the money to be changed into Confederate currency." Mr. Nunn smiled. "If only we had had your father's insight." He shrugged. "Ah, well, at least you and your sister will reap the benefit of his wisdom."

  Noble placed his hands on the desk, lacing his fingers together. "Just how much money are we talking about here, Mr. Nunn?"

  The attorney rummaged through his leather case, withdrew several papers and smiled. "I could read the will to you, if you like, or I can tell you what it contains and leave you to read it at your leisure."

  "Just tell me what it says."

  "Your share amounts to" he cleared his throat "three million, five hundred thousand dollars and some-odd cents. And, of course, you inherit Casa del Sol and all holdings, buildings and dwellings thereon. Your sister inherits her grandparents' plantation near Atlanta, Georgia, and ten thousand dollars per annum. I'm sorry to say I don't know what condition the plantation is in. I understand that most of the plantations around Atlanta were laid to ruin."

  Noble stared at Mr. Nunn in stunned silence. A vision of a great manor with white columns and rolling green hills crossed his mind. He swallowed hard and swallowed again. He hadn't thought about the grand old plantation house being destroyed. He had to know that Saber was all right.

  "Have you been in contact with my sister?"

  "Ah, yes, sir. She is staying with" he thumbed through several sheets of papers-"Here it is! Miss Vincente now resides with her great-aunt in Savannah, Georgia." He raised his head. "Your father wanted us to know where to locate your sister in the event that -that --"

  "In the event I died in the war?"

  Mr. Nunn nodded grimly. "You're a wealthy man, Mr. Vincente. You and your sister should have no worries about finances. I might add that your father left your sister in your guardianship until she is of age, or is married."

  Noble felt the warmth and comfort of his parents reaching out to him and his sister from beyond the grave. Moments ago he had felt alone and in the depths of despair. Now he could take care of his vaqueros and their families. He could buy cattle and horses. Casa del Sol would come back to life.

  He realized that Mr. Nunn had spoken and he had not heard him. "I beg your pardon, what did you say, Mr. Nunn?"

  "I asked if you would like me to deposit a bank draft for you in a local bank?"

  "No. I'll want you to transfer some of the funds to a Fort Worth bank. But the greater amount will remain in New Orleans. If my mother and father trusted you, then I shall do likewise."

  Mr. Nunn looked pleased. "I took the liberty of bringing five thousand in cash, knowing you might need it."

  Noble smiled. "It seems that you thought of everything."

  "We try, Mr. Vincente. If you allow us to continue to handle your affairs, we will serve you as faithfully as we did your parents."

  Noble stood and walked to George Nunn and held out his hand. "I will use your firm and no other."

  George Nunn stood quickly, shaking Noble's hand vigorously. "I'll have the proper papers drawn up for you to sign before I leave. It has been a pleasure doing business with your family. And I look forward to our further association."

  "My sister and I are in your debt," Noble said. "Thank you for coming all the way to Texas, Mr. Nunn. I hope you weren't inconvenienced."

  The older man smiled. "Not at all. Not at all. You and your sister are my firm's most important clients, and I wanted to meet you in person." He dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead. "I always wanted to see Texas, but no one warned me it was so hot."

  "It's the drought. You must visit us when nature isn't so selfish with its bounty." Noble liked George Nunn. He seemed to be a man of great loyalty, and Noble trusted him. "Has Texas met with your expectations?"

  "Oh, yes, and much more. Would you mind if I just look around a bit?"

  "Please go where you will. You are my guest, and you are welcome to remain at Casa del Sol with us as long as you wish."

  Regret showed in the attorney's eyes. "I will take advantage of your hospitality for the night, if you don't mind. But unfortunately, I must return to New Orleans tomorrow." He looked around the library. "Magnificent."

  "It once was," Noble told him.

  "It will be again, my boy." Mr. Nunn's eyes rounded in horror at his error in etiquette. "You will accomplish it, Mr. Vincente."

  Noble gazed out the window, where he could see one of the vaqueros hammering a loose board to the barn door. There would be no more trying to hold rotten wood together with rusted nails. Not after today.

  Like the legendary phoenix of myth that rose out of the ashes, Casa del Sol would rise out of the ashes to reclaim its place.

  Although it was early morning, the grueling heat had already tightened its grip on the land. Noble pushed the stable doors open to circulate the stagnant air. The horses didn't seem to suffer from the heat as did humans, he thought. He gripped the curry brush and with wide, even sweeps ran it across the haunches of his mahogany gelding.

  Since Mr. Nunn's visit last week, Casa del Sol had become a beehive of reconstruction. His men no longer had to act as laborers, because carpenters and stonemasons had been hired to make repairs. A new coat of paint gleamed on the barn. The corrals no longer sagged, and Noble had personally hung the new sign over the entrance to the ranch.

  He moved past his gelding to the next stall to groom a three-year-old mare that would be perfect for Saber when she returned. The brush ran the length of the horse's back. Noble
was so absorbed in his task that he didn't realize he was no longer alone.

  "Hello, Noble."

  He knew that voice well, and he knew it meant trouble for him. Laying the curry brush aside, he turned slowly to face his visitor. She hadn't changed much. Perhaps she was a little more polished in her appearance and manner, but the face was the same. She was still slender and beautiful. He caught a whiff of her perfume and it was almost overpowering,, like a garden full of roses on a hot day. Rachel had smelled fresh and clean, like a spring morning. He wondered how two sisters could be so different.

  "Hello, Delia, or should I say Mrs. Chandler?"

  "You can still call me Delia," she said, tightly clutching the blue parasol that matched her gown. "We never stood on formalities, did we, Noble?"

  His dark eyes probed hers. "I somehow never thought I'd see you at Casa del Sol." He went back to grooming the mare. "You will forgive me if I work while we talk."

  "You haven't changed much," she said, moving closer to him.

  He glanced up. "You have."

  "A gentleman would never point out a lady's flaws."

  "The change is for the better," he said woodenly. "You shook off the dust of the ranch and took on the refinement of a town dweller."

  Her vivid blue eyes wavered and she concentrated on the brush strokes he applied to the horse, wishing he were touching her. "I'd heard that my sister was here, but Alejandro tells me she was well enough to go home."

  "Yes. I expected you to come earlier, when your sister needed you."

  She blinked her eyes and watched his hands as they glided over the mare. "I would have, but I was detained."

  There was anger in his voice. "I see."

  "No, you don't," she said wistfully. "But it doesn't matter."

  Noble tossed the brush into a wooden bucket and turned his full attention to her. "Your sister left yesterday, Delia."

  She stepped closer, her eyes devouring him. He was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. His features were perfect, his body hard and lean, his legs long, his shoulders wide he was perfect. Danger emanated from him, and that was more intriguing than anything else about him. When he gazed into her eyes, as he was doing now, she wanted to melt against him.

  "What can I do for you, Delia?" he asked coldly.

  "Is that all the greeting I'm to expect, Noble?"

  His eyes darkened intensely. "What do you want from me?"

  "I want nothing from you. I... just wanted to say that I'm... sorry."

  "You've said it before." His voice was devoid of feeling. All pretense of politeness had been stripped away. "Now you may leave."

  Delia reached out to him and then let her hand fall away. "Will you ever forgive me, Noble?"

  His gaze swept over her as if he didn't really see her. "I forgave you a long time ago, Delia. I wonder if you will ever forgive yourself?"

  She was overwhelmed by shame, yet she could not look away from his searching gaze. "I don't know if I can, Noble. So much has happened between our two families. Will anything ever be good again?"

  "Don't look back, Delia." He breathed deeply and his voice grew a little kinder. "You are married now, and I understand you could one day be the first lady of Texas. That's something to anticipate."

  She touched his hand; he did not pull away but waited for her to speak.

  "How is Rachel, really?"

  "She will still need more time to heal, I think. But she's strong in will and resolve. It'll take more than a mere bullet to discourage Green Eyes."

  "You... admire her, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  Delia opened her parasol and spun it around to give her something to do with her hands. "Do you know who shot her or why?"

  "I believe whoever shot Rachel was aiming at me and shot her by mistake."

  Delia frowned. "You were with her when she was shot. I didn't know that. What happened?"

  "Why don't you ask her yourself? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

  He stepped around her and walked away, leaving her to stare after him. She ached deep inside from wanting him, but she knew in her heart that if he were not a gentleman he'd have thrown her off his ranch. She had felt his coldness and it had chilled her to the bone.

  On arriving at the Broken Spur, Delia immediately directed one of the cowhands to take her trunk upstairs. Then she removed her bonnet and patted her flattened curls into place. She didn't hear Winna Mae when the woman came up behind her.

  "So you are here."

  Delia jumped and turned to the housekeeper, trembling. "The Indian in you allows you to sneak up behind people when they don't expect it. I would appreciate it if you would announce yourself before scaring me out of my wits." Her gaze went to the scarred, work-worn hands of the housekeeper, and she recoiled. "I don't appreciate your skulking around corners."

  Winna Mae's expression remained calm. "Will you be staying long this time?"

  Delia and the housekeeper had been adversaries from the beginning, at least as far as Delia was concerned. To her way of thinking Winna Mae had ingratiated herself into the family, and ran the household as if it belonged to her. "It depends on how long my sister needs me," Delia said haughtily. "I was afraid of what I would find when I got here."

  "She's mending well." Winna Mae nodded toward the stairs. "She's resting."

  Delia moved to the banister and Winna Mae stepped in front of her, blocking the way. "Let her rest for now. She's tired after the trip home from Casa del Sol."

  Delia pushed past her. "You see to your duties and I'll tend to my sister."

  "If you care about her health, you will let her rest a bit."

  Delia sighed, knowing the woman was probably right. "I'll just go to my room and put on something cooler-unless, of course, you object."

  Winna Mae stepped aside, and without a word disappeared through the door as quietly as she'd appeared.

  Delia ground her teeth. She couldn't understand why Rachel permitted that woman to stay on at the ranch. If it had been up to her, Winna Mae would have been dismissed long ago.

  Once in her own room, Delia removed her dusty clothing and dressed in a cool, flowered chintz gown. She tied her hair away from her face and lay down upon the bed, thinking about her meet ing with Noble. Whit had told her that Noble had lost everything except Casa del Sol. The hacienda hadn't appeared run-down to her. If Whit had his way, he'd own Casa del Sol and the Broken Spur. Then he would control the whole western tributary of the Brazos River.

  The thought of Noble losing Casa del Sol made her terribly sad. She didn't want to take anything more away from Noble; she'd already taken too much.

  At that moment Delia heard Rachel's voice. She moved off the bed and left the room. The minute Delia saw her sister, she realized there was something different about her. Rachel reclined against her pillow, her red-gold hair falling in ringlets about her face. Her skin, usually tanned from being in the sun, was now pale, and there was a wistfulness reflected in her eyes. Delia thought her stunningly beautiful.

  Rachel smiled with genuine fondness. "Delia, how wonderful of you to come."

  Pleasure filled Delia. It occurred to her for the first time that Rachel really did love her.

  "I came as soon as I could." She touched Rachel's face and was satisfied that she had no fever. "How are you?"

  A small smile tilted Rachel's mouth and she shrugged, then grimaced in pain. "I'm better now that you're here. I detest being confined to this room, but the doctor says I can't get up for another week. You can entertain me."

  "Poker?"

  Rachel nodded. "Make it five-card stud." She took Delia's hand. "It'll be just like old times. You being the bossy big sister, me the meek little sister."

  They both laughed at that. Neither of them would ever consider Rachel meek.

  "Rachel, you were born knowing what you wanted and reaching out for it with both hands, while I stumbled around and still never found what I wanted."

  Rachel's eyes seemed to
cloud. "I don't know what I want anymore, Delia."

  "I went to Casa del Sol before I came here."

  "Did you speak to Noble?"

  Delia nodded. "I understand he was with you when you were shot."

  "Did he tell you what happened?"

  "No. He said to ask you."

  Rachel was quiet for a moment as she decided how to answer her sister. "There are only three people who know what happened that day. Me, of course, Noble, and whoever shot me. Noble is too much of a gentleman to speak of it, and I won't talk about it. The man who shot me can't come forward because he'd give himself away."

  "Have you told the sheriff?"

  "No.

  "You should so he can be looking for the man," Delia exclaimed. "The man who shot you ought to be brought to justice."

  "I know. But we may never know who did it."

  Delia looked into Rachel's eyes and saw more than her sister imagined. "Noble thinks you were shot by mistake. He believes the bullet was meant for him."

  "Do you remember, Papa always said that those who stood too near a Vincente got swept away in a storm? It was very perceptive of him, don't you think?"

  Delia saw a flush rise to Rachel's cheeks and she knew her sister had been captured by the Vincente charm. She could only imagine the battle that raged inside Rachel at that moment. "Just how near were you to Noble when you were shot?"

  Rachel turned her face to the pillow, and Delia could hardly hear her murmured reply. "Too close. I was standing too close."

  "Delia, will you stop fussing over me!" Rachel said with impassioned annoyance, feeling smothered by her sister's constant care. She much preferred Delia when she was trying to wrestle the Broken Spur from her, than with this new motherly demeanor that was driving Rachel to distraction. Her nerves were raw and she had a lot of thinking to do most of it involved Noble, and she couldn't do it with her sister's continuous coddling.

  Rachel hurried upstairs with Delia right behind her. She spun at her bedroom door. "Go home and pester Whit! I'm healed. The wound doesn't even hurt anymore." To demonstrate her point, Rachel flexed her arm and made a wide circle with her shoulder, swinging her arm back and forth. "Go back to Austin. Winna Mae will look after me."