by Linda Broday
How was he going to make this work?
One big problem was what to say to a woman he’d never met before today. And each time his gaze lit on the long scar down her face, dark anger welled up with such force that it took all his strength to control it.
Lara Boone Legend was a gentle soul who needed someone to love her, to hold her in the darkness, and to kiss away the sadness that clouded her beautiful green eyes. That man wasn’t him. He’d fulfill all other obligations.
But he’d never open his heart again.
Another problem was living in a house where Becky’s presence loomed, reminding him of everything he wanted to erase. Oh God, why had he thought he could do this?
With his jaw resolute, Houston strode toward the corral. Halfway there, a thought struck him. He’d left Lara and the baby in the house without a morsel of food. Damn! Only an uncaring fool would ride off without making sure they had something to eat. Where was his head? The evening shadows had already begun to fall.
Spinning around, he set a course for the ranch headquarters and went straight to the kitchen. A short time later, he returned to the white clapboard house that now had light shining in the windows. Juggling a large wicker basket under his arm, he opened the door. Lara jumped up from a chair at the empty dining room table, wiping her eyes. Gracie played at her feet with some spools that once held thread.
Houston pretended not to notice Lara’s wet lashes. “I brought enough food to get us by until Monday. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
A look of gratitude crossed her features as she took the basket from him. “In the hectic flurry of the day, I forgot to eat. I would’ve gone for these things, except I didn’t know where exactly to head. Everything’s so strange and new. I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “In the future when I’m not around, go to the main house. Stoker will help you.”
“I’m sure he will,” she said softly, unpacking the wicker basket. “But like I said, I didn’t want to start off my life here bothering people.”
“You’re never going to be a bother, so get that notion out of your head.” He watched her sort the basket contents out into piles, and her eyes lit up when she removed the fresh apple pie.
“Since it’s getting late and I haven’t eaten today either, I thought we might scramble the eggs and fry some of the ham,” he suggested, seeing her indecision.
“I haven’t checked to see if we have pans to cook with.”
“We do.” The cooking utensils were left from a year ago when he thought…
“That settles it then. I might not know much about the workings of this ranch, but I’m an expert cook.” Lara’s hand collided with his when they bent to push aside a small curtain that covered the lower shelf. She froze. An awkward silence filled the room.
At last, Houston quietly said, “Let me get the pan for you.”
She nodded and moved back. “I should check on Gracie.”
Houston retrieved the skillet and set it aside. He stood staring out the window, cursing his incompetence as he bumbled his way through the strange maze of his life with this woman. They hadn’t even made it through one day. What would a week, a month, or a year be like?
At the sound of baby babbles, he turned to watch her sit the child on the floor. Making up his mind, Houston went and gently took Lara’s hands. “We have to find a way to coexist. I can’t live with you frightened of my every move. We can’t occupy the same house without touching or bumping into each other on occasion. It’ll get easier as we go. But for now, can you trust me?”
“I do, Houston.” Her vivid green eyes held misery. “It’s just that I don’t know what you expect of me.”
Her statement caught him by surprise. What did he expect? Certainly not a proper wife, given they were utter strangers. But not a cook and housekeeper either. That wasn’t right. No wife of his would ever fill the role of a maid to be at his beck and call.
Hell! He yearned for a stiff drink.
“A friend.” His answer surprised him probably more than it did her. “I expect you to be a partner. We both have things to forget. I need someone who’ll stand with me in good times and bad.”
Lara’s smile transformed her face. Again, her beauty struck him. He felt the urge to let his fingertips brush her delicate cheekbones and drift along the curve of her jaw.
“I can use a friend,” she said. “I’ll try not to ever make you sorry for your decision.”
“You won’t.” The words came out gruff and he didn’t know how he could say them with such confidence.
Yet, somehow deep in his being a calm surety settled, like disturbed silt gliding back to the bottom of a riverbed.
He felt a tug on his trouser leg and glanced down. Gracie had crawled to him and gripped the fabric in her tiny fist. He picked her up.
They would face lots of ups and downs but they’d survive. For no other reason than the little girl giving him a toothless, slobbery grin.
The babe needed a father. Lara, a husband.
And Houston desperately needed some reason to keep living.
Seven
Over the following week, Houston spent almost every waking minute getting the cattle ready to take north. Only two hours a morning were free, and he filled those helping his brother. As had become his habit over the past year, he pored over wires from all over the state that Jim Wheeler brought him from the telegraph office. Each dawn, Houston prayed someone had information about Ned Sweeney. Someday the identity of the man using the name from the Beadle’s dime novels had to turn up. The letters kept trickling in—a few leads, a handful of new sightings, but the bastard remained elusive. That only made Houston more determined. If he could find the one who’d framed Luke for Judge Percival’s murder, his brother would no longer have to hide in the shadows.
Otherwise, the days were long, and it was often late when Houston got home. No matter how tired he was, he made sure to spend time with Lara and Gracie. Talking about the cattle drive had relieved a good portion of the awkward tension. His wife had a good head on her shoulders, and he’d discovered she made sense about a lot of things.
On this Friday morning, they were at the kitchen table finishing breakfast. Houston’s belly was so full he thought he’d burst. He’d never eaten like this until Lara came into his life.
“My father mentioned when he stopped by yesterday that he’d come to talk to you about something,” Lara said, sitting Gracie on the floor.
“Came about the cattle drive. I asked Till to let your brothers come along. It would provide valuable experience.” At the tug on his trousers and the accompanying grunt, Houston lifted Gracie into his lap. “It took some doing but he finally agreed.”
“Good. Even Henry, I hope.”
“Yep. Your father flatly refused at first, but Till finally came around when I assured him Henry would serve as the cook’s helper and stay out of danger.”
Lara refilled Houston’s coffee cup. “Oh, I’m so glad. I’ve argued for years that he does my brother no favor by coddling him.”
“I just can’t bear the bitter disappointment that sometimes fills Henry’s eyes.” Houston let out a deep sigh. “The boy needs to be encouraged, not put in a box. He wants to be a man like his brothers, and just needs a chance.”
“Thank you for giving him that.” Lara stood and began gathering the plates. “Would you like to take a biscuit for later in case you get hungry?”
Houston groaned. “Woman, I’m going to get so fat I can’t get through the door. But you twisted my arm. Wrap one up.”
Her smile came easy, not forced like in the beginning. Maybe she was starting to trust him a little.
Early that afternoon, he stood beside a chuck wagon, watching cowboys stock it with supplies for the drive that would begin in two days’ time.
“I’m real sorry, Mr. H
ouston,” said Albert, the grizzled old man who had been the bunkhouse cook on the Lone Star since Houston was a boy. “I won’t be able to go. My Bessie has taken a turn for the worse an’ Doc Jenkins says she cain’t last more ’n a few weeks.” Tears filled Albert’s rheumy eyes. “We’ve been married for forty years. I just cain’t go off an’ leave her. She’s all I got.”
“I understand.” Houston laid his hand on Albert’s shoulder. “I’ll find someone else. If there’s anything my father or I can do, let us know. Whatever you need, you’ll get.”
“I jus’ hate lettin’ you down.” Albert wagged his head and limped toward the small house he shared with his wife.
Now where was he going to find a cook on such short notice? A wagon rolled to a stop and Houston glanced up to see Sam, Sierra, and their son, Hector. As Sam jumped down, the sun bounced off the sheriff’s badge on his shirt.
“Hey, little brother,” Houston called. “What brings you?”
“Heard about your cattle drive.” Sam lifted Sierra to the ground. “Wanted to come see.”
“Hi, Houston.” Sierra kissed his cheek and grinned. “I want to meet that new wife of yours. Time we got acquainted and compared notes on you wild Legend brothers.”
“We’re not wild, are we, Sam?” Houston wiped sweat trickling down his face.
Sam grinned. “Not us.”
“You’re just in time to meet Lara—here she comes now.” Houston took in his wife as she stepped out into the sunlight. His breath caught. The rays kissed her hair, setting the copper strands aflame. Her beauty struck him by surprise, as it often did. Indecision crossed her face and her footsteps lagged. He knew she wanted to join them but wasn’t sure she’d be welcome.
He went to meet her and took Gracie from her arms. “Come meet my brother and his family.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready, Houston. Maybe I should…”
“They will love you, I promise.” Houston slipped a protective arm around her and drew her forward.
After the introductions, Sam drew her into a bear hug. Then Sierra took her turn. Hector murmured something and ran to the corral where cowboys were working.
Sierra took Gracie from Houston. “Sam, Lara and I are going to chat a bit over some hot tea while I spoil this precious little baby.”
“You go ahead, darlin’. Houston and I have some things to discuss. I don’t mind riding herd on Hector.” Once the women had gotten out of range, Sam turned to Houston. “If you’re not going to hunt down the man who cut Lara’s face, I’m going to. The scum doesn’t deserve to live.”
“My feelings exactly,” Houston replied. “I know the bastard’s name and I know what he looks like. The minute I get back, I’m making that a priority.”
“Pa told me he forced you into marrying her to save the ranch,” Sam said.
With a snort, Houston explained. “He pulled the wool over my damn eyes. But I overheard him and Till Boone talking after the wedding and found out they were in cahoots the whole time. The two were nothing but matchmakers.”
“Hell! I never believed Pa had it in him.”
“Don’t tell him this, but I would’ve done it anyway.” Houston focused on the distant horizon. “It’s an odd feeling, though—marrying someone sight unseen and living in the same house. We’re two strangers bumbling around in the dark, neither one of us knowing what to do or say. I suspect she’ll be relieved not having me around for a while.”
Sam leaned against the chuck wagon. “Maybe the distance will be good.”
“Maybe so. Did Pa share the terms of the contract?”
“Nope, but I’m sure you had some stipulations. I can’t believe he came up with that whopper. Especially after what Becky put you through.”
“Stoker’s a wily one. Don’t turn your back on him for an instant.” Houston chuckled. The rough start of finding his footing with Lara had smoothed to where the low trick had lost its sting. “But you, Luke, and I now own the two hundred forty thousand acres he supposedly gambled away. And all our names are on the rest of the ranch also.”
Sam laughed. “I’d say you must’ve had him by the short hairs.”
“Well, at least I thought I did. Turned out to be the other way around.” Houston took a match stem from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. “This is changing the subject, but do you know where I can find a chuck wagon cook on short notice? Albert just told me his wife won’t last until he gets back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Albert and Bessie were good to take us under their wing after Mother passed away.” Sam paused in thought for a second. “I don’t know anyone with experience who can take his place. Sorry.”
“I hope I find someone by the time we roll out at daybreak on Monday.”
“Houston, I came to warn you to be careful.” Sam’s face set in hard lines. “I got a telegram from a US Marshal up in Indian Territory about a large group of outlaws attacking drovers and stealing the herds.”
Great. As if driving two thousand bawling, snot-slinging cows to Kansas wasn’t hard enough.
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep my eyes peeled and my rifle handy. Have you heard anything from Luke?”
“Nope. Every time the telegraph operator brings me a wire, I fear it’s from some lawman saying he’s arrested our brother.”
“Me too,” Houston murmured. “Luke’s living on borrowed time. Things might crash down around him before he gets to clear his name.”
And their brother wasn’t the only one. The last year had walloped Houston pretty good too. Sometimes in the dead of night, as he lay in his small bed with his feet sticking off the end, he listened to the thunder of his heart and wondered about the why of it all.
Why had Becky done what she’d done?
Why had Lara gotten the rotten deal she had?
Why did Luke have to keep running and fearing the bullet that would eventually find him?
He had no answers to any of it and doubted anyone else did—even preachers who were supposed to know the whys and wherefores of everything.
“What about that group of women Luke kept supplied over at Deliverance Canyon? Have you gone to check on them?”
“I go once a month,” Sam said. “They’re a tough bunch. If I went with anyone they didn’t know, Tally Shannon would put a bullet through our hearts without blinking an eye.”
For a woman to wear a gun belt like a man would be something to see.
“Can you blame her?” Houston moved the match stem to the other side of his mouth. “Lord knows what they went through in that insane asylum. Especially since they weren’t crazy at all. People who do that to someone they want to get shed of don’t deserve to take up elbow room on this earth.” Houston shuddered, thinking about the mark—a tattoo—put on their cheeks by the overseer, making it impossible even to go into towns. Lara probably felt that way also. He’d never thought about how difficult her life was, living with that long scar.
Sam nodded. “I keep them fed and well. Sierra wants to bring them here to the ranch.”
“So do I,” Houston admitted. “It’s not right them being out there all alone with men scouring the country looking for them.”
“Every time I mention it to Tally, I don’t know if I’ll make it out of that canyon alive.”
Houston had thought of riding out to try to talk sense to the desperate women but Sam wouldn’t let him. Said it was too dangerous for them. All it would take would be for the wrong person to be watching and follow. People would do anything for that bounty on their heads.
He thought again of Lara’s scar. He’d kill any man he caught abusing a woman. Or child.
And when he found Yuma Blackstone… Houston clenched his fist. He’d take his time killing him.
* * *
The afternoon was drawing long by the time Sam and his family left. Houston and Stoker waved unti
l they were out of sight. The visit seemed to have done Lara good. She and Sierra had become like sisters already, their relationship easy and natural.
Stoker turned to him. “Got everything ready for the trail drive, son?”
“Just about.” Houston shared that Albert wasn’t coming. “I guess I’ll have to make one of the men do it.”
“You’ll likely have a catastrophe on your hands too.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t know what else to do.” Houston had thought about it so much his mind was tied in knots. He wouldn’t put off the trail drive until next year—they needed to get the cows sold before they either died of starvation or the cold winter. Blue northers could be brutal in this part of Texas, especially on weakened cattle.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Stoker leaned against a post and gave Houston a pointed stare. “How are things with you and Lara?”
“Fine.” Houston’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“No reason. Just curious is all.”
“Are you supposed to give Till a report?” Houston casually asked, watching his father.
Stoker jerked and stood up straight. “Why would I?”
“Pa, I overheard you and Boone talking the day of the wedding. I know what you two cooked up.”
Stoker’s face reddened. “What were we supposed to do? His daughter was in a living hell, worried to death about her baby growing up labeled a bastard. And you. You weren’t eating, your clothes were falling off, and you’d taken to the bottle. You were nothing but a hollowed-out stump. I spent a lot of sleepless nights worrying about you.”
A flash of anger washed over Houston. “You could’ve come to me.”
“Like hell. I tried. Over and over. You told me to leave you the hell alone.” Stoker laid his hand on Houston’s back. “Son, you wouldn’t listen.”
The truth struck Houston hard. He couldn’t deny it.
“All the same, I’ll be obliged if both of you keep your noses out of our marriage.”