She longed to break her horse into a run but understood the foolishness of the idea. They guided their horses around the outskirts of the ranch, now and then coming across the remains of an abandoned campfire.
“I think you’ve got people using your land,” she said as they stopped beside a site that showed evidence of recent habitation.
“Our land,” he corrected her. “And I’m sure of it. Until recently, most of Texas was open land. A lot of it still is. Many small ranchers own only the cattle. They use whatever land or water is available without worrying about who owns it.” He surveyed the land stretching out for miles before them. Then his gaze turned to her. “Partner, what do you think of fencing?”
Rebecca’s eyes held his honestly. “I don’t like what the barbed wire does to the cattle that are stupid enough to run into it. But I believe it’s the only way a man can effectively protect what’s his. I believe one day every ranch in this country will be fenced off.”
Jake nodded. “Several of the larger ranchers have already begun fencing in their land. I want to breed your Herefords—”
“Our Herefords,” she interjected with a pointed look.
Jake smiled. “Our Herefords. I want to breed them with the longhorns that are being raised here now. If I don’t fence in the land, I can’t control the breeding, and instead of getting better stock, we’ll end up with something nobody wants.”
“A lot of people are against closing off the ranges, Jake. It won’t make us popular people. It might bring a lot of anger our way.”
“I’ve considered that. In some parts of the state there’ve been outright wars fought. The Rangers are supposed to back the cattlemen who own the land, but out here, we have to be able to depend on ourselves. Whatever trouble comes is ours to handle. I won’t put up the fence if you’re against it.”
“I didn’t realize you knew so much about Texas.”
He grinned. “I know about the state. I just didn’t know about our land. I was worried sick when we passed through that stretch of tall pines that our land was going to be sitting in the middle of it. But it’s not. It’s wide and it’s open. Our cattle can roam it and so can anyone else’s. We’ll need more hands to keep the cattle from wandering. Come spring roundup or fall sorting time, we’ll have to invest a lot of time separating our cattle out from the others. In the long run, I think the fences will save us trouble. But in the beginning, it’s likely to bring it. We just have to decide if we want to sit in the present or step into the future.”
She lifted her face to the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun filtering down to her and she laughed, sending her voice out around her. Then she eyed Jake.
“A cowboy poet is what you are, Jake Burnett. When you want something, you ask for it with the prettiest words I have ever heard. Put up your fence, and I’ll shoot anyone who tries to take it down.”
Leaning over, he took her fingers and brought them to his lips. He couldn’t have chosen a better partner.
Chapter Five
REBECCA WAS BEGINNING to wonder if the six men sitting in the back of the creaking wagon had ever been to a dance before. They were cackling like a bunch of chickens going after the solitary rooster in the henhouse, and the thick fog created by the sweet-smelling water they had doused themselves with was making her nauseous. Jake pulled the wagon up beside one of a half-dozen others and helped Rebecca down. The men took off in search of easy prey. They had been too long on the trail. She pitied any woman, young or old, who happened to be there tonight—she would be danced to death.
As soon as she and Jake entered the barn, she found herself pressed against a soft bosom. Carrie could strike from anywhere. Her roundness muffled the sound of her approach, but her voice gave her away.
“I was beginning to think y’all wouldn’t come!” She turned to Jake. “Now don’t you be shy with me tonight, boy! I expect at least one dance.”
Jake nodded and smiled. For all her bossing, he liked Carrie. “Yes, ma’am.”
Carrie held up a finger. “Now you two wait right here.”
Rebecca laughed as she watched Carrie tromp off, hands set into loose fists, arms swinging. The band began to strike up a tune and she stopped them. Couples had already started to dance, but Carrie couldn’t have cared less.
“My family—get yourselves to the front of the barn right now!”
She gave the band of odd players a curt nod and the men once again began playing. A host of people started gathering beside Jake and Rebecca as Carrie bounced back over.
“Line up!” she ordered.
“Oh, Ma!” A dark-haired young man looked imploringly at the rotund woman. “Somebody’s asking Mary to dance.”
“As long as you get the last dance, it don’t matter. Now get in line or I’ll swat that hide of yours.”
Begrudgingly, he stepped back. Standing a good head taller than the first young man, he took his place as the second in the stair-step line that consisted of an assortment of boys and one girl.
“Now, then. These are our new neighbors, Rebecca and Jake Burnett, mister and missus to you unless they tell you otherwise. You are to make them feel welcome.”
She turned with evident pride on her face. “These are my children.” She stuck out a pudgy finger, going down the line, “Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Ruth, James, Ezekiel, Micah.”
“The books of the Bible?” Rebecca asked softly.
“That’s right.” She reached around behind her, pulling forward a short dark-haired man. “And this here is my man Michael.”
To Jake, Michael Reading held out a weathered hand that matched his weathered face. But set within the creases created by sun and wind were the kindest pair of blue eyes Rebecca had ever seen. They twinkled like the stars overhead and when he nodded at Jake they gleamed in welcome.
Jake firmly shook his hand. “We appreciate your inviting us.”
Michael nodded and smiled before releasing Jake’s hand.
“He can’t talk,” Carrie explained. “Got wounded during the War Between the States, shot in the throat. So I talk for both of us, don’t I, darling?”
Michael rolled his eyes, and Rebecca knew the man might not talk but he could communicate.
Carrie nudged her arm. “See what I mean about the quiet ones? And I enjoyed making every one of them.” “Oh, Ma!” Ruth wailed. “Can we go now? Please!” “Go on, get out of here.”
In less than a second, the only thing visible where the children had been was a cloud of dust settling back to the ground.
Carrie and Michael walked off when the band started up another tune. Rebecca stood tapping her foot, waiting for Jake to ask her to dance. He didn’t get the chance.
A man with startling green eyes and blond hair introduced himself with confidence. As a young girl Rebecca had envisioned the gods of Greek mythology looking very much as he did. His name was William Long, and he said he was a cattle baron. When he asked Jake’s permission to escort his wife out onto the dance floor, Jake could do no more than nod and step back. He couldn’t help thinking William Long was the kind of man Rebecca Anderson should have married.
Feeling out of place, Jake wandered outside. The sounds of banjos, fiddles, and guitars filtered into the darkness of the night. He stood watching the horses prance around each other, his elbows resting on the wooden corral. Jake rubbed the uneven bridge of his nose, knowing if he smiled, it would be an uneven smile that matched his uneven skin. He would never be polished, he would never be flawless, and if he were ever in a position to call himself a cattle baron, he would still look like an old cowhand.
It wasn’t long before he felt Rebecca come stand beside him. He didn’t turn to face her. He hated himself for being jealous, and he didn’t want her to see what he was feeling.
“Looks like they got some good horses. We might consider breeding ours with theirs,” he said, his eyes never leaving the animals playing before him.
She set her arms on the top rail of the fence, gazing out. “The last
dance we had, it took you most of the night to gather up the courage to ask me to dance.” She looked at his profile. “Will it take you that long tonight?” she asked softly.
“Lot of handsome men in there who’d like to dance with you.”
“And I just want to dance with you.” His head snapped around, his eyes searching her face for the truth.
“I’m your wife, Jake. The first dance, the last dance, and every dance in between is yours. And you don’t even have to ask me. All you have to do is slip your hand in mine.”
“Would you want me to ask you if you weren’t my wife?”
“I wanted you to ask me at the last dance. I want you to ask me now. I enjoy dancing in your arms.” “I stepped on your feet.”
“Only at first. How many times had you danced before then?” “Once.”
“Ask me to dance,” she prodded softly. “Not because I’m your wife … but because you want to dance with me. Because I want to dance with you.”
Even in the darkness, she was beautiful. And she wanted to dance with him. He intertwined his fingers with hers.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, smiling, her hips swaying in motion to the music as they walked back into the barn, hand in hand.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough whiskey?”
Frank turned around, his jaw set. “I’m a grown man.”
“And you’re going to look like a grown fool if you keep drinking like that,” Rebecca said.
He studied his boots—polished earlier, now scuffed—before he brought his eyes back up to her. “Goddamn, Reb. She won’t even dance with me. That Ruth. I asked her real polite like you told me to and she just laughed and said no. Why won’t she dance with me?”
Rebecca understood some of his frustration. She had been attracted to Brett the first time she saw him, riding in from the north. “I don’t know, Frank. Some women in this world can’t look beyond the surface of a man. And it’s usually their loss. I notice she spends a lot of time sitting on the side, waiting. I’m not sure I’d want to spend my life with someone who sat on the side. I’d rather have someone who was right in the middle, whooping it up every time.”
Frank’s brows drew together. “But she sure is pretty, Reb.”
“Pretty fades in time. And when it’s gone, you’re only left with what was underneath.”
Frank nodded, his mouth puckering. “I’m going to ask her one more time anyway.”
Watching him tromp off, she realized how fortunate she’d been. Brett had returned her feelings in equal measure.
“It’s about time beautiful women started coming to Texas,” said a voice that was resonant and suave. Rebecca turned, feeling an immediate aversion to the man as his brown eyes slowly traveled the length of her, assessing her attributes.
“And unfortunately, it appears I’m too late. I assume you’re married?”
She gave him a small smile that was as cold as she could muster. “Yes, I am.”
“Don’t worry, my dear. That won’t be a deterrent to our relationship. It will only make it more challenging.”
Rebecca released a short laugh. “I assure you, sir, we will never have a relationship.” Turning on her heel, she walked off and went to find Jake.
“Carrie says the doctor in town is sober one day a week,” he said as soon as she walked up. “I’m not having a drunk deliver your baby.”
Jake looked so disgruntled that Rebecca touched her fingertips to the corner of his turned-down mouth, trying to force his lips into a smile.
“It’ll be all right. I know you can do it.”
“Reb, this is different. You’re not a horse that means almost nothing to me. If I do something wrong—”
“Well, look what the devil drug up. My father’s bastard. Come to claim your land in Texas, have you?”
Jake felt as though he had been poleaxed as he slowly turned around, coming face to face with Ethan Truscott, the nemesis of his past. Brown eyes met brown and Jake was surprised that after three years, he could still feel so much hatred directed towards him.
“You know, pretty lady, you really ought to show more common sense in selecting the company you keep. I don’t imagine your husband would be pleased to find out you’re spending time in the presence of this bastard.”
Rebecca took great pleasure in realizing the man she had recently snubbed was standing before them now. It would give her the chance to really put him in his place. “On the contrary, I don’t think my husband would mind at all.” She pressed up against Jake’s side. “Would you, Jake?”
Jake slipped his arm possessively around his wife. He’d never felt so proud in all his life. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. Can’t say I’d be pleased, though, if I found you in the company of Ethan Truscott.”
Ethan shifted his eyes from Rebecca to Jake. “She’s your wife?” He snorted. “What whorehouse did you pick her up in?”
Jake released his hold on Rebecca and she quickly moved her hand to his chest to stay him. “Jake!” He looked at her.
“It’s not worth it,” she said quietly.
He blew out a deep gust of air, nodding before turning back to face Ethan. “I got no quarrel with you.”
“No? Then you have a different recollection of our childhood than I do.”
“Don’t be causing trouble tonight, Ethan.” Another brown-eyed man joined the group.
“Dammit, Zach. He got the land and we got the debts.”
“Maybe he deserved the land.”
“Like hell he did. You’re just too damn forgiving, you know that? Just like Father.”
“I don’t remember Father being so forgiving where Jake was concerned.” He extended a hand to Jake. “I’ve got no hard feelings.”
Jake hesitated. He could count all the acts of kindness that had been directed his way during the years he had lived on their ranch on one hand. But Zachary Truscott had never singled him out for ridicule or abuse. He put his hand in Zach’s and received a handshake firmer than he had expected.
Zach tilted his head towards Rebecca. “Ma’am.” Then he hit his brother on the shoulder. “Let’s go.” “I gotta—”
Zach grabbed Ethan’s shirt front. “You start a fight here and I’ll side against you. And I imagine everyone else will, too. You’re the bastard here tonight. Now let’s go.”
The expression on Ethan’s face announced louder than any words that matters weren’t settled between him and Jake. He abruptly turned and stormed out of the barn, shoving aside anyone who, in his opinion, was standing in his path. Close behind him, Zach followed.
Moving the towel curtain back slightly so the full moon could shine into the room, Rebecca gazed out upon the peaceful star-filled night sky, knowing her husband was feeling very little peace. They had come home and gone through the motions of getting ready for bed without a word. Now he lay staring at the ceiling, one hand behind his head. She rolled over and touched his arm. He gave her a small smile as he lifted his arm to welcome her.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
His hand idly rubbed her arm as she waited for him to reconcile his feelings.
“Tell me,” she finally said softly.
His hand stilled, and when he answered his voice was unsteady and low. “Those two men are my half brothers. I never knew for sure before tonight. There were times when I thought the man who took me away long after my mother died was my father. But then I’d think no man could treat his son, his own flesh and blood, the way he treated me. When he came and got me, I was like a little puppy that’s being taken to a new home, its tail a-waggin’, its mouth open and its tongue hanging out in anticipation. Then when we got there, I got hit because in my excitement, I hadn’t sat still enough in the wagon.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven. He set me up in a stall in the barn. I had one blanket to keep me warm at night. When winter rolled in, to keep warm, I’d sleep next to whatever animal I could coax into laying down. I got Ethan and Zach’s hand-me-dow
ns. Their clothes never seemed to fit right. I always looked like somebody that nobody wanted.”
“And you were too young to leave,” Rebecca stated softly.
“But I tried. When I was nine. It was November. It had just turned cold and I wanted to go somewhere that was warm. But he came after me. He paraded me around, stark naked, in front of the entire ranch so I’d learn what I’d have if I didn’t have him. He tied me up in the barn for three days, alone, without any food or water. Without my blanket. I couldn’t get to the animals for warmth. I couldn’t go anywhere to relieve myself. I wanted to die when he came to the barn to release me, to make sure I understood how grateful I should be. I was sitting in this mess that I had made and Ethan doubled over laughing. And I got hit for making the mess.”
She tightened her hold on him wishing she could take away his pain. “When I met Ethan tonight, I took an instant dislike to him. And now I know why. He’s a cruel, ugly man.”
Rolling her over to her back, Jake splayed his fingers on her stomach.
“I’ll never beat this child, or humiliate him, or make him feel like he’s nothing.”
She touched the scar above his brow. “I know. You’re such a good person. I don’t know how they could have treated you like that.”
In the moonlight, she saw a smile cross his face. “Do you know when I first thought I might be worth something?”
She shook her head. “No.”
His eyes held hers. “This crazy brown mustang had been trying to throw me for pretty close to half an hour, and I thought for sure I was going to have to give up on him. Then he just calmed down and let me ride him.” His hand moved from her stomach to her cheek. “And I felt this warmth coming at me, and I turned and saw this beautiful girl leaning over the fence. Her dark hair was caught up in a long braid hanging over her shoulder, her black Stetson was tipped up off her forehead, her blue eyes were shining, and a wonderful straight smile went from one side of her face to the other. Then she spoke to me—me, the bastard who had never received a word of praise since his mother died—and she told me she wanted me to break her next horse. I realized for the first time in my life that I might have something of value to offer another human being.”
Lorraine Heath Page 6