Whit could hardly wait to see himself as owner of that great hacienda.
It had always been Rachel's habit to wake before sunup, but this particular morning she was up even earlier. The bunkhouse was still dark, so the hands weren't even stirring yet. Usually she ate a quick meal and then joined her men, ready for the day's work.
This morning she carried her cup of coffee out onto the front porch, absorbing the essence of the land she loved so well.
She listened with her heart to the night sounds that were just giving way to the whispers of day: the hooting of the barn owl was soon replaced by the cooing of the morning dove, and the howling of the wolf gave way to a mockingbird's trill. Two scissortails were perched on the corral fence, ner vously watching one of the barn cats crouched nearby.
Rachel feared she would soon lose everything that someone else would own the Broken Spur before spring. She watched as the lamps were lit in the bunkhouse, sending out a glow from the windows. The men were preparing for the day's chores. She took a sip of coffee and inhaled the sweetness of the earth, feeling anguish so sharp it stole her breath. If she lost the Broken Spur, she would have failed her father a second time-the first was in not discovering who had killed him.
How could she live with such failure? she wondered bleakly.
She watched the sunrise, at first just a faint, ghostly glow in the east, and then a splash of color, a radiance that washed the land in golden light.
She placed her coffee cup on the porch railing, her hand fisted at her side. She swallowed several times, overcome with heartsickness. She could sell the Broken Spur to Whit. That would at least keep the ranch in the family. Every fiber of her being cried out against such an outrage, while sickening turmoil churned inside her.
No. Whit would never own one grain of dirt from the Broken Spur. Not as long as she lived.
A chill wind blew out of the north, sweeping across her face like cold fingers and making her shiver from some unknown fear. At least the weather had cooled down, she thought, a blessing since the summer had been so unbearably hot.
She tried to think about all the wonderful years she had lived with her family in this house, then braced her back against an ornate post that supported the porch overhang, her mind stubbornly returning to the troubles at hand. She had to find a way to keep the ranch she just had to!
Noble groaned in his sleep, hugging his pillow to him, his hand caressing it as if it were the woman in his dream. He could feel her skin, smell her sweetness, taste her lips.
"Rachel," he said softly, but she did not answer. She slipped out of his arms, her mouth pouting as she stood naked before him. "Let me hold you, Rachel," he said with urgency.
She disappeared into a mist and he sat up in bed, his eyes open, feeling the agony of his loss.
"Dammit!" He slid out of bed and moved to the window. He should suffer; he deserved it, he told himself. He'd committed the unpardonable by taking Rachel's virginity. If she hated him for it, who could blame her? He rubbed the back of his neck and flexed his shoulders. His nerves were raw, and he wanted her so damned badly, he could think of little else.
"That woman is either going to kill me or cure me," he said to himself "I think she'll kill me."
He watched the rising sun top the trees and quickly dressed. His dream still occupied his thoughts as he went downstairs and out the door. At the stable, he saddled his horse and rode away, hoping to put Rachel out of his mind. What he really wanted to do was ride over to the Broken Spur, take Rachel in his arms and force her to listen to him.
What could he say to her? "Your sister, Delia, never meant anything to me." Oh, Rachel would really fall into his arms if he said that.
It was early afternoon when Noble returned to the ranch and noticed the wagon pulled up to the house. He recognized Jess McVee, and suspected that he'd be the recipient of more home-baked desserts from Mrs. McVee.
He dismounted and strolled toward the house; then he noticed the woman Jess lifted from the wagon. She was slender and petite, and wore a green gown and carried a matching parasol. The parasol was held at an angle, which blocked his view of her face. The woman definitely wasn't Mrs. McVee, who was not nearly as slender or petite.
As Noble neared the wagon, Jess smiled. "I've brought you a present," he said blithely. "You'll like this one."
The woman turned toward Noble, and he judged her to be less than twenty. She was blond, elegant and beautiful. A stranger to him, and yet there was something familiar
The young lady snapped her parasol shut and held her arms out to him, "Is this all the welcome I am to expect from my own brother?"
His heart opened up and a tide of feeling rushed through him. She looked so like their mother, her eyes huge and the same deep blue, her face the same shape, the same dimples dancing on each side of her mouth.
"Saber?"
She laughed and twirled around for his inspection. "It's I - all grown up." Then her face became serious. "I've come home because we need each other." She looked at him adoringly, the way she had as a child. "At least I need you, Noble."
He crossed the distance that separated them and enfolded her in his arms. "At last we are together. You don't know how much I..." He laughed, and for the first time in many years, he felt lighthearted. "The last of the Vincentes," he said, sliding his arm about her slender waist and guiding her toward the house. "Let's go inside to get you out of the sun." Remembering his manners, he glanced over his shoulder. "Join us, Jess."
"No. The two of you need to be alone. I'll just have some of your hands help me unload Miss Saber's belongings." Jess chuckled. "It appears she brought the whole of Georgia with her."
"Did you travel alone?" Noble asked, with a slight reprimand in his voice.
Saber Vincente peered up at her brother through her thick lashes. "Yes. But don't scold me. There's a good reason for it. Auntie wouldn't accompany me until next spring." She laid her head against his shoulder. "I couldn't wait that long to see you."
His heart melted. "Well, you're here safely. That's all that matters."
Once inside the house, Saber turned toward her brother's arms. "I have missed you so desperately. For so long I have wanted to come home, but our father forbade it. Then when I got the letter that he had died, I blamed myself for not being with him."
Noble held her away from him, shocked that she had experienced the same guilt he'd felt. "But you shouldn't feel guilt, Saber. Our father knew that he was dying and he wanted you safely away from here."
Her eyes were brimming with tears. "I know, but I wanted to be with him." She laid her head on her brother's shoulder and found a measure of comfort there. "I miss him so desperately."
Sorrow clouded Noble's vision, and his tone revealed his anguish when he said, "We have each other."
Saber smiled through her tears. "Yes, my dearest brother, we do have each other."
Then he asked, "Was it hard on you-the war, I mean? I know much of Georgia was devastated by the Yankees."
"Yes." She pondered his question. "They burned the plantation house, so I was forced to live in the overseer's cabin with Great-aunt Ellen. Everything was destroyed. All the beautiful furniture Grandfather had purchased in France. The paintings-everything."
"I am so sorry for what you suffered." Noble drew his sister protectively into his arms.
"It was horrible at the time. But I never intended to live in Georgia. I'm Texas born and bred, and Texas is in my blood as it is in yours." She removed her lace gloves and placed them on the hall table and went back into his arms. "However, I do grieve that the Yankees burned the house where our mother was born and raised."
"Yes, I know," he said, his chin resting on the top of her head. "So Texas is in your blood, is it?" He could remember how he'd felt when he came home to find this house in shambles. "All things change," he said lightly. He held her away from him. "And you have changed from a child to a beautiful young lady."
Saber made a face at him and gave him a mischie
vous glance. "I was always a lady. But you say I am beautiful. Now that is what a woman likes to hear even from her brother." She stood back and looked at him musingly. "I'll wager the ladies can't resist you."
He arched an eyebrow. "One of them manages to."
She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Well, this lady loves you, Noble."
He kissed her smooth forehead. "Welcome home, little sister."
There was a great celebration at Casa del Sol as the vaqueros and their families gathered to welcome Senorita Saber home. There was much happiness, and food was served in abundance. After eating, everyone gathered to celebrate the homecoming of a Vincente. The night was filled with the sound of Spanish guitars and the tapping shoes of the dancers, who whirled about in their colorful costumes.
Saber tapped her foot and then rose out of her chair to join the dancers. She was graceful and lovely as she clapped her hands and whirled to the Spanish dance she'd learned as a child.
Noble soon joined the dancers. His feet tapping out the rhythm, he wove gracefully among the other dancers. The shadows of loneliness had lifted, but not all the way.
After the revelers had gone to their own quarters, Saber linked her arm through her brother's. "What's wrong?" she asked, sensitive to his mood.
"Nothing," he answered, smiling down at her. "I was just thinking how Mother and Father would have enjoyed tonight."
"That's not all you were thinking." Saber's gaze fastened on his. "Who is the woman who makes you so melancholy?"
Noble gave her a half smile. "Am I that transparent?"
"To me you are," Saber replied kindly, placing her hand on his. "Who is she, Noble? Do you love her very much?"
"It's not worth talking about. And I wouldn't say I love her. I admire and respect her, and I owe her." He was reluctant to speak of Rachel, even to his sister. "She has good reason to hate me, so no fault can be laid at her door."
"Then you must be speaking of Rachel Rutledge."
He looked amazed. "How did you guess?"
"Because she believes that you killed her father."
"She knows I didn't now."
Saber looked puzzled. "And yet she still will not have you. I do not understand." Then her eyes became teasing. "You must be the foremost catch in all Texas. How can anyone resist you?"
"Let's not talk about me. Tell me about yourself. How many young Georgian gentlemen are going to come rushing to Texas to ask me for your hand in marriage?"
She blushed prettily. "He's not from Georgia."
"So am I to lose you so soon after we have been reunited?"
"No. At least not right away. Matthew is to be transferred to Montana Territory. He wants to be established before he sends for me."
"He's a soldier?"
"Yes. He's Major Matthew Halloway."
Noble guided her into the parlor and seated her beside him on the light blue sofa. "Tell me about him."
She studied the tips of her black kid slippers. "He's a Yankee." She raised her searching gaze to his. "Do you mind?"
"Not if you love him, and he loves you."
She looked relieved. "I've been so afraid to tell you about Matt because I didn't know how you'd take it. He was afraid too that you would hold it against him that he fought for the North."
"Saber," he said, taking her small hand in his, "I believe I can say with assurance that Father would ask if the man loved you and if he was honorable. After that, he wouldn't dwell on the man's politics, and neither will I.All I want is for you to be happy."
He kissed her cheek and she threw her arms around his neck.
"Will he make you happy, Saber? And is he honorable?"
"Oh, yes. He's wonderful! He wants to come to Texas to meet you, if you will allow it."
"Allow it? As your legal guardian, I insist on it. I will see this Yankee for myself." Noble stood, bringing Saber up beside him. "Now it's off to bed with you. I'm sure you are exhausted. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"Will you tell me about Rachel?"
"I've already told you about her."
"You say that you don't love her, and yet you have all the symptoms of a man in love."
He tweaked Saber's pert little nose. "And just how would you know about what a man feels for a woman?"
She smiled. "A woman is born knowing. We all have the gift. Didn't you know?"
"God help me, I hope one woman I know can't read men as well as you say. Although I'm sure she can."
"Why should that worry you?" Saber looked inquiringly at her brother.
"You seem to have all the answers. Perhaps I should ask your advice before I go courting."
"You could do worse," she said, smiling. Then she became more serious. "I always liked Rachel, Noble."
"I like her too. But if she didn't hate me enough before, she will now."
"What did you do?"
Noble shook his head. "Interfered in her life. Paid most of her taxes, although I took pains to cover that up. It won't take her long to understand what I did, though. And you can take this for the truth it wouldn't be unlike her to come gunning for me." He laughed when his sister's face became serious. "Don't worry; she wouldn't actually shoot me - I don't think."
"If you and Rachel are meant to be together, it will happen, Noble."
"Perhaps."
She yawned and he steered her toward the stairs.
"To bed with you."
She nodded and walked away from him, turning at the first step. "It's good to be home."
"You can't know what it means to me to have you back here. It's been lonesome without you."
She gave him the devilish smile that he remembered so well from her childhood. "You need me to put your house in order. Tomorrow I'll begin to rearrange every room. This house needs a woman's touch."
"I'll be glad to leave it all in your capable hands. But I want it to look much as it once did, if that's possible."
"I know. Me too."
He was leaning on the stair post and she was halfway up the stairs. "Good night, Saber. Sleep well."
She blew him a kiss. "Night."
After she had disappeared into her bedroom, Noble walked outside and glanced up at the sky. Something wild and wonderful was stirring within him. The river called him. He wanted to get on his horse and ride as fast as he could to see if Rachel was waiting for him there, but he knew she wouldn't be.
He went to his bedroom and lay down without undressing. He would embrace sleep, because perhaps he would dream of Rachel again. Perhaps he could hold her, kiss her, make love to her, even if it was only a dream.
Soon his eyes closed, and visions of Rachel whirled through his head. Her arms were outstretched, and the proud, haughty beauty belonged to him alone.
At least in the softness of the velvet night.
The sky was a smoke-colored gray, and there was a definite nip to the air as Rachel stepped off the porch and walked toward the barn. She'd swallowed her pride about selling to the Yankees. She'd sell her stock to the Devil himself if it would help pay her cowhands.
Her mind raced ahead of her as she calculated how many head of horses she could sell and still have enough to run the ranch efficiently. Good cutting horses were always easy to sell, but not to the army-they had no need for horses with that particular endowment. Her neighbors were in the same trouble as she-they certainly couldn't buy her horses; in fact they had stock of their own to sell.
It was hopeless. If she sold every horse and her entire herd of cattle, she still wouldn't have enough money to pay her taxes. Tomorrow was the deadline. Her spirit raged. How could she walk away from the Broken Spur, as many of her neighbors had been forced to do with their ranches? But she would need money to pay her hands, feed everyone through the winter, purchase more cattle in the spring. Nothing could save the Broken Spur. She ached inside as she pictured loading up a wagon with her belongings and leaving the Broken Spur for the last time.
How would she be able to bear it?
As she entered the barn, s
he lit a lantern and walked past each stall until she came to Faro's. She reached out her hand and laid it on the mare's shiny black coat. She would get a good price for Faro. The banker had been wanting to buy her for his wife; his offer had been a generous one.
Rachel laid her face against Faro's. "How can I sell you? You're..." What was Faro, and why couldn't she part with her? She had been more than just a horse. She represented a time in Rachel's life when everything had been beautiful.
The door suddenly slammed shut and the lantern went out, casting the barn into darkness. Rachel made her way to the front of the barn, thinking the wind had blown the door shut and put out the lantern as well. Pushing against the door, she was astonished to find it stuck. Zeb took pride in his work, and he had certainly done himself proud when he made the barn door so sturdy. No matter how hard she pushed against it, it wouldn't budge.
It appeared to be locked from the outside. But that wasn't possible.
She called out to Zeb, before she remembered that he and all the cowhands had left early that morning, driving the herd to town to be sold at the stockyard.
No one could hear her if she yelled.
She laughed aloud, wondering how she had gotten into this predicament. She wasn't really concerned, but she wondered how long it would take Winna Mae to come searching for her.
Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark by now, and she reached for the lantern to relight it. A noise from the loft caught her attention; she assumed it was one of the cats that lived in the barn to keep the mice away.
She still wasn't concerned, merely wondered how she'd ever explain how she came to be locked in her own barn. She finally lit the lantern and placed it back on the hook. Most of the barn was cast in shadows, with only a tiny circle of light cast by the lantern.
Again she heard a sound above her, and she made her way toward the ladder that led to her hayloft. She heard the door in the loft slam shut, and the sound of the pulley grinding as if someone was riding it downward. The horses were getting restless, whinnying, while some of the more spirited animals kicked against their stalls.
"It's all right," she called out, thinking her voice would calm them. But why was her pulse racing, and why did she feel that someone had been in the barn with her? She smelled the smoke before she saw the flames, and her heart slammed against her chest.
Texas Proud (Vincente 2) Page 19