Texas Proud (Vincente 2)

Home > Other > Texas Proud (Vincente 2) > Page 25
Texas Proud (Vincente 2) Page 25

by Constance O'Banyon


  Rachel's heart beat wildly with fear. "You killed my father!"

  "Yes, I did that too," he admitted. "I'd come to call on Delia that day. Neither she nor your father knew that I overheard them talking about the baby. It was a hot day and the windows were open. I stood on the porch and listened to every word. I'd always hated Noble, but nothing like the hatred I felt for him that day. I slipped away and waited for your pa to cross the river."

  "But how did you get Noble's gun?"

  Whit seemed willing to tell her everything, and she knew then that he'd never let her leave the river alive. She had to keep him talking, and hope help would come.

  "That was the easy part. I followed your father to Casa del Sol, hung back in the bushes and listened to him talk to Noble. I had it in mind to kill Noble, but another plan came from their talk. Of course our golden boy denied ever being with Delia, and your father, like a gullible old fool, believed him."

  Rachel's fear gave way to rage, but she had to control it for now. She took a deep breath and asked, "How did you plant Noble's gun beside my father's body?"

  "That was the brilliant part. Noble had laid his holster aside while he'd been talking to your father. When both men left, Noble forgot to take his gun. I helped myself to it and followed your father. You can guess the rest. Your father never knew who shot him. It was a clean shot right through the heart. I dropped Noble's gun beside his body and simply rode away."

  Nausea coiled inside her stomach like a slithering snake. "You are a monster." Tears stung Rachel's eyes and clung to her lashes. "How could you kill my father? He never harmed you."

  "I wanted Delia, and that was the only way I could have her. She needed a father for her baby, and I was willing to take her any way I could get her. I was glad when she lost the Spaniard's brat, though. I didn't relish raising another man's child. Especially not Noble's."

  "Delia didn't love you."

  "No, she loved the golden boy, the Spaniard. But she didn't get him, did she?"

  Rachel struggled and fought to get away from him, but he was too strong for her. She tried to ignore her growing panic. She needed to keep him talking. "Was it you who locked me in the barn and started the fire?"

  Whit smiled. "How clever of you to figure that out." His eyes hardened and his jaw went slack. "I hired those fools, Harvey and Red, to get rid of you, but they mishandled everything. Red was supposed to get rid of Noble, but he failed in that too." He blinked his eyes and grinned. "Red did me the favor of shooting Harvey so he wouldn't talk, and I shot Red for the same reason." He laughed, but the sound was without humor. "No one will ever suspect me of the deaths." His hand slid to Rachel's slender neck. "And no one will blame me for your death, either. I am clever, don't you think?"

  "You're a monster."

  A shot rang out, and Whit was so startled that he loosened his hold on Rachel long enough for her to twist out of his arms. Delia stepped from behind the trunk of a cottonwood tree, her gun trained on Whit.

  "You killed my father and now you threaten my sister." Delia was crying, but her hand was steady and her aim did not move from Whit's chest. "I won't let you hurt Rachel."

  "Sweetheart," Whit said in a silken voice. "I did it all because I love you."

  "Don't take another step, Whit. I knew you were ambitious and unscrupulous, but I never thought you were a monster." Delia shuddered, thinking of his hands on her after he'd killed her father. "You are going to confess everything to Sheriff Crenshaw."

  "Delia, think about what you're saying. We have a future in this state. You aren't going to throw it away now. If Rachel were out of the way, you would inherit the Broken Spur, and I'll one day be governor. We could have everything."

  "Do you actually think I'd hurt my own sister? You are mad, Whit. I won't rest until I see you hang for my father's death."

  He took another step toward her. "Give me the gun, Delia. You know you'll never use it."

  "Won't IT' A river of tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry, Rachel, that I ever exposed you to a man like Whit. I swear to you that I never knew that he..." She wiped blinding tears from her eyes. "I watched you ride away, and then I saw Whit following you at a distance. Suddenly everything came together in my mind. It was as if I knew all the time, but didn't want to believe it. I knew Whit was going to try to kill you, so I got a gun and followed him. I'm glad I did."

  Whit was inching ever closer to Delia. "Your sis ter's no better than a harlot, lifting her skirt for Noble just like you did. I saw her with my own eyes."

  Delia shook her head. "I was never with Noble, Whit. The baby I carried in my body-the baby you made me get rid of was your brother's baby. Your sod-busting, dirt-under-his-fingernails brother. I didn't mean for it to happen; it just did. I didn't want to marry Frank, so I could never tell anyone that he'd fathered my baby not even Frank."

  Whit let out a furious yell and lunged for Delia. She closed her eyes, waited for the impact and pulled the trigger.

  Rachel watched trancelike as Whit's knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, his chest gushing blood. He held his hand out to Delia, clutched the hem of her gown and raised his head to her.

  "I... did love you, Deli-" His hand slipped from her gown and his body twitched as he drew his last breath.

  For a long moment there was only silence. Then Delia glanced at her sister. "I had to do it, Rachel. He killed Papa, and he would have killed you." She stood unblinking, averting her gaze from her dead husband. "God forgive me. I had to do it."

  Rachel ran to her sister and took her in her arms. "I know you had to do it, Delia. It will be all right. Everything will be all right now." Rachel pried the gun from her sister's stiff fingers and led her toward the horses.

  "It's all over now; Papa's killer is dead," Delia said in a daze. "Why did he kill Papa?" she asked, looking puzzled. "Why?"

  "I don't know." Rachel hugged her sister's trembling body. She feared it would be a long time before Delia recovered from this day.

  "Delia, I was the one who vowed at Papa's grave to avenge his death. But you are the daughter who kept that promise. Papa would be proud of you."

  "Would he?"

  "Yes, very proud. Come, let's go home now."

  Word swept through Texas about the tragedy that had happened by the Brazos River. Delia didn't have to go to trial, due to the circumstances, and because of Sheriff Crenshaw's compassion. She vowed never to return to Austin, to a life that had not made her happy.

  Noble had been beside Rachel and Delia through the whole ordeal. Rachel suspected that he had a lot to do with the kindness their neighbors showered on Delia.

  Since the tragedy, Delia kept to her room a lot. Surprisingly enough, Winna Mae took care of her, and finally convinced her to turn away from the past and start to live again. Delia never drank spirits now. Rachel suspected it had been Whit who had encouraged her to drink in the first place.

  Tanner was also a help. Not a day passed that he didn't bring a clump of wildflowers, a pretty ribbon, some sweetmeats, or a gift for Delia.

  Soon Delia was laughing again, flirting and looking at Tanner with shining eyes. Rachel wondered if Delia and Tanner were falling in love. Tanner would give Delia the respect and kindness that Whit never had.

  Not now not this soon but someday, they might marry. She could see the two of them living in the big house, here at the Broken Spur. Whereas Delia had despised the ranch before, it had now become her sanctuary.

  The night before Rachel's wedding, she was so happy she couldn't sleep. She tiptoed downstairs, thinking a glass of milk might relax her. She found Winna Mae sitting at the table, a cup of tea in front of her.

  "I thought you might come down so I waited for you, Rachel."

  "You know me too well."

  "Yes."

  "Winna Mae, although I'll be leaving tomorrow, I want you to know that the Broken Spur will always be home to you and your son."

  The housekeeper was quiet for a moment. "We won't be staying here after y
ou leave."

  Rachel felt crestfallen. "You aren't going away? What would I do without you?"

  Winna Mae gave Rachel one of her rare smiles. only be moving across the river to Casa del Sol. Noble has asked me to be the housekeeper there. His vaqueros are going to train my son to work on the ranch. Robert Tall has already moved into the bunkhouse at Casa del Sol."

  Rachel's hand covered Winna Mae's. "I'm glad you will be with me."

  Winna Mae took a sip of her tea. "You know that Zeb's been given the job of looking after Noble's horses."

  "Yes." Rachel imitated Zeb's gruff voice. "'Noble, I'll be coming across that river when Miss Rachel does. She can't do without me, nor me without her. We're kinda family-like.'

  Winna Mae and Rachel laughed; then Rachel became silent while she traced the flower pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. "I'm afraid, Winna Mae."

  "Why is that? You are marrying a man you love, and he loves you. What have you to fear?"

  "That I'm too happy, that it won't last, that something will go wrong."

  Winna Mae patted her hand. "Live each day as if it were a gift from God. You have had a hard time, Rachel. I've watched you struggle to keep this ranch going. I saw you cry when you didn't know I was watching. It's time you looked to your own happiness and treasured the love you and Noble have for each other."

  Rachel's eyes swam with tears. "I will, Winna Mae. All I want is to make him happy."

  Winna Mae nodded. "If I ever saw a happy man, it's Noble Vincente when he looks at you."

  A warm spring breeze scattered colorful wildflowers across West Texas. The day dawned bright and clear as the population of Madragon County gathered at the church to attend a wedding.

  As Rachel and Noble exchanged their vows before the priest, a mockingbird trilled outside the window, serenading their union.

  Rachel looked into Noble's dark eyes and felt his love wrap around her with a warmth and protectiveness that took her breath away.

  After they were pronounced man and wife, they accepted the congratulations of their friends and family.

  Noble's sister, Saber, kissed Rachel's cheek. "Now I have a sister. I'm almost sorry that I'll be leaving this afternoon for Montana Territory to marry my sweet Yankee."

  Rachel hugged her tightly. "I only hope you will be as happy as I am at this moment."

  "I shall be." Saber moved to her brother, who swallowed her in his embrace.

  Rachel reached for Delia's hands. "Will you be all right at the Broken Spur?"

  Delia smiled, her whole face alight. "I have come home at last, Rachel. In a year, perhaps more, Tanner-" She broke off and actually blushed. "He's nothing like Whit, and that's in his favor." She laughed happily. "Well, we'll see."

  Mrs. McVee went about proclaiming to everyone who would listen that she'd known all along that Rachel and Noble would get married.

  Noble pulled Rachel into his arms. "Alone at last."

  Rachel pressed her face against his chest, knowing that this was where she belonged. "I am too happy to speak," she said, her arms sliding about his waist.

  He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with his. "Green Eyes, my wife." He tested the title and experienced the pleasure it brought him. "I like the sound of that."

  "Rachel Vincente. I like that."

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. When he reached the bedroom, he set her on her feet. Several lamps illuminated the room. She had expected that he'd take her to his room, but this one was larger, and she could see a sitting room through the open door.

  "This is not your bedroom not the one I occupied when I was recovering from the bullet wound."

  "No. This is the master suite. But if you would prefer something smaller...?"

  "No. I love it here."

  Rachel knew Saber must have had a hand in decorating. Lovely Spanish furniture, massive and yet delicately carved, graced the room. Maroon and cream hues blended in harmony that was pleasing to the eye.

  Noble led Rachel to the huge mahogany bed, with peacocks carved into the wood. "I was born in this bed," he explained. "I want our children conceived and born here as well."

  She melted against him, loving the thought of giving birth to his child. "I love you so, Noble."

  He touched her cheek, his eyes soft and loving. "You have had my heart for a long time. There was never anyone but you for me, although I didn't always know it."

  She asked, womanlike, "When did you first know that you loved me?"

  "Looking back, I believe it was that day you watched me break Faro. When I looked into your eyes, I was thunderstruck. Of course, you were too young at that time, and I tried to control the feelings I had for you. I admit that while I was away, I had no conscious thought of you, other than sadness because you believed that I killed your father."

  "Let's pretend that never happened." She laughed, snuggling against him. "I remember well the day you gave Faro to me. It was the first time I had ever had the feelings of a woman, and it frightened me."

  Noble gripped her shoulders and his eyes probed hers. "Did you ever have those feelings for another man?"

  "No." She swept her fingers over the frown on his forehead. "You are the only one."

  He walked around the room and extinguished all the lamps but one. Then he returned to Rachel, his hands going to the fastening at the back of her gown.

  She closed her eyes, wanting to remember this moment forever. She was coming to him as his wife. They would always be together. She had wronged him in so many ways, but she would make amends now. She would be a good wife to him.

  Soft Spanish guitars were strumming in one of the courtyards below, and a beautiful voice blended with the music.

  Noble smiled, and opened the window so she could better hear the music. "The vaqueros sing for the new mistress of Casa del Sol," he said, coming back to her. "Their gift to the patron's lady."

  His dark eyes softened as she'd never seen them before. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, trembling with anticipation at the thought of lying in his arms as his wife. This time they would not have to be parted. She could go to bed beside him and wake up in his arms.

  No shadows loomed over them now.

  Noble expertly unhooked the back of her wedding gown and it soon slid down her body and billowed to the floor at her feet. His clothing quickly followed and he picked her up, kissing her while carrying her to the bed.

  He lowered her onto the mattress and joined her there. Their bodies fit together, like silk against leather, soft curves against hard muscle.

  "My Green Eyes," he murmured, embracing her in his warmth.

  Her lips traveled along his neck, and she remembered the day at the well when she had wanted to do just that. Then, she'd had no idea that she would one day wed the beautiful Spaniard who had stolen a sixteen-year-old girl's heart.

  She raised her head and looked deeply into his eyes. "You are an extraordinary man, Noble."

  He smiled, more interested in her creamy breasts, which were cupped in his hands. "Where did you get such a notion, Mrs. Vincente?"

  "From you," she said, closing her eyes and trying not to think about his mouth kissing the tips of her nipples, and then his tongue sliding around one, sending a thrill all the way to her toes.

  She threw her head back when she felt him swell against her. She was only moments away from ecstasy. She would tell her husband later how wonderful he was. But for now...

  Only an occasional sigh or a murmured word of love could be heard above the strumming of the guitars.

  Much later when Noble held her in his arms, they both watched the moon make soft patterns through the lace curtains.

  His hand rested across her stomach, and her head nestled against his shoulder.

  "Our courtship has been a strange one," she said, pretending seriousness.

  "In what way?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

  "I had trouble deciding if I should shoot you or kiss you."

  Amused laugh
ter escaped him. "I'm glad you decided on the kissing, knowing your deadly aim."

  Rachel's thoughts went back to the day he'd first come home and she'd aimed her rifle at his heart. She shuddered and pressed closer to him. "I love you so much," she whispered. "So very much."

  "Do you want to hear about the first time you ingratiated yourself into my life?" Noble asked, shifting her weight so his arms went around her and he pulled her tightly against him.

  "If you want to tell me." She nipped thick lashes that were so long they made shadows on his cheeks. She nuzzled his ear and kissed along his jawline.

  He looked at her with softened eyes. "If you continue to do that, I won't be able to talk."

  She settled against his shoulder and folded her arms, smiling. "You have my complete attention."

  He shook with tender laughter. "Have I?"

  "Oh, Si."

  He seemed to be reaching back into the past, because his wonderful eyes took on a faraway look. "You may be surprised at how young you were at the time."

  She raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him quizzically. "How old was I?"

  "I was aware that your mother had delivered a second daughter, of course. The whole county knew your father was wishing for a son."

  She smiled. "I know."

  "I saw you from a distance quite a few times, but thought nothing about it. After all, an eightyear-old boy has no interest in a baby, and a girl child at that."

  She was becoming more and more intrigued. "You aren't going to tell me that you've loved me since I was a baby."

  "I said nothing about love, Rachel. I was talking about how you ingratiated yourself into my life and never let go."

  He was quiet for a moment as if remembering. "Before they built the new Methodist church behind the bank, it was located across the road from the Catholic church that my family attended."

  "I remember." She looked at Noble. "I'm a Methodist, and you are Catholic. Will that make any difference to you?"

  "Not to me."

  "And not to me. We have conquered tougher differences than our religions."

 

‹ Prev