by Linda Broday
He wanted to draw them inside him where no one could get to them. But that wasn’t possible. “We’re going to get through this, Lara.”
“How did he find me? How?”
Good question with only one answer. “He had to have been watching you for a while. When you came on this cattle drive, he saw his opportunity.”
“But Papa and my brothers searched for him high and low after that night. If he was near, they’d have found him.”
“He’s slippery, Lara. But one day his luck will run out.”
Lara’s pretty green eyes stared up at him. Her gaze was full of torment. “I know why he wants to kill me. But why Gracie? She’s his own flesh and blood. She’s innocent.”
“Yes, but she represents what he did. He can lie to himself about the whole thing but Gracie is living proof of his evil deed,” Houston said quietly.
As though sensing they talked about her, Gracie began to wail.
Lara stepped out of his arms to comfort her, while Houston watched helplessly. He bit back a curse and shot a glare toward the rocks. One minute with the man who’d caused it. That’s all he asked. But the boulders stared back in silence.
Why in hell hadn’t he left them safe on the Lone Star?
Calling himself every name he could think of, Houston stalked to his horse and lifted the flap of a saddlebag. He took out the extra pistol and walked back to Lara. “Keep this with you at all times. If Yuma catches you alone again, shoot him.”
Lara stared at the gun. “I hate these things. They hold such destructive power.”
“They’re supposed to. I need to know you have some way of defending yourself.”
“But—”
Houston brushed her cheek with a finger. “Humor me on this.”
“All right.” She stuck it into a pocket in the fold of her dress.
Gracie set up a new round of wailing, and while Lara comforted the babe, he moved toward the wagon.
For an hour, Houston worked fixing the harnesses. Step by step, he taught Henry. The boy’s quickness in picking up the technique surprised him. Henry struggled to saddle a horse, but yet found the harness repair easy to master. Houston made a mental note—there were always things to be fixed, and a man on the trail never knew when he’d need to repair something. Henry could easily be given more duties of this nature.
They had just finished up when Virgil and Quaid returned with the runaway team, and it took no time to get moving. Houston let Henry ride the Appaloosa while he drove the chuck wagon. He wasn’t going to let Lara and Gracie out of his sight again.
As they rolled slowly along over the cattle-trampled earth, Houston slipped an arm around Lara and she seemed to move closer to him. Although he might’ve imagined that last part. No words needed to be said.
Sixteen
“Where do you want to start, boss?” Clay asked after bedding the cattle down for the night. He ground out his cigarette with the heel of his worn boot. “Let’s find the rotten bastards and kill ’em.”
Houston had told Clay about Yuma’s notes and the possible reinforcements, and watched his face harden. Clay was like a pool of still water—at first glance you couldn’t tell how deep it went. Over the last few months, Houston had found that Clay’s resolve went all the way to his bones.
Virgil and Quaid squatted on their heels in this meeting. Every so often they’d cuss a blue streak, but mostly they listened.
“Gotta find them first,” Houston reminded Clay. “They’re cunning, and that makes them all the more dangerous. For now, keep pushing the herd hard toward Dodge. Make sure the men remain on guard and we’ll all watch out for Lara and the baby.”
“I never was too happy with her being at the back of the herd. To escape the dust, sometimes that wagon fell back quite a ways.” Clay swatted at a fly buzzing around his head.
“Something we’ve got to fix,” Houston admitted, tugging his hat down on his forehead and pulling on his gloves. He glanced toward the chuck wagon where Lara prepared supper. She seemed to have regained her strong spirit, but he knew she was still worried. “From now on, the chuck wagon travels alongside us. If Lara needs more time, we’ll slow. Or stop altogether.”
“Damn right.” Clay turned to his horse and swung into the saddle. “Anytime you want to backtrack, holler at me. There’s nothing I’d like more.”
Virgil stood. “Count me in.”
“And me,” Quaid said. “We’re both a fair hand with a gun.”
Houston met their gaze. “Have either of you ever shot a man? It’s a lot different shooting something that can shoot back.”
“I winged Yuma the night he…did what he did.” Virgil’s face reflected his hate. “I’d have no trouble putting a bullet between his eyes. Or anyone else’s who threatened my family. Some things a man’s gotta do if he wants to be a man.”
Quaid nodded. “And this is one of ’em.”
“I’ll give you both the second shift,” Clay said as his gelding danced, anxious to be off. “If you hear or see anything strange, fire a shot and we’ll come running.”
“We will,” Virgil assured him.
Houston watched Clay Angelo ride toward the milling longhorns, and the Boone twins hurry to help with Gracie. He’d never seen such close-knit brothers, or ones so committed to their family. When the bullets started flying, they’d be in the thick of things.
After a long sigh, Houston murmured into the wind, “Just try not to get killed. Till Boone will whip me all the way to kingdom come and back.”
Damn, if only Dodge was closer.
A last glance showed Gracie in Virgil’s arms, with a group of hardened drovers crowding around. They acted downright silly in an effort to elicit one toothless, slobbery grin. Satisfied the child was cared for, Houston mounted up. He’d have time to inspect the area before supper.
He pulled his Colt from the holster, flipped open the cylinder, and twirled it to make sure a bullet filled every chamber. A muscle in his jaw quivered. Reassured, he replaced the gun, and with a light touch of his spurs, the Appaloosa moved out.
After a sweep of the rocky ravines, windswept canyons, and thick brush that offered the most likely hiding places, he turned back. He’d long heard the clang of the bell calling everyone to dinner and knew they’d likely be finished eating. Guilt rose that he kept Lara from finding her bed, so he set the horse into a gallop.
Though Lara rose hours before everyone else and got to sleep late, she never complained. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and proved it every single day.
Pride filled Houston, but it wasn’t just that. When they kissed and touched, his stomach did this funny little thing. And when she came into his arms and looked up at him with those big green eyes, he wanted to draw her inside and hold her there where trouble couldn’t find her.
What he felt was a little like it had been with Becky Golden, except this went far deeper. Down into his heart and soul.
Lara made him feel all man, a man who knew what he had and was desperate to keep it.
But mostly, she made him realize he wanted her, hungered to touch her skin, to know her deepest thoughts. At odd moments of the day, he found himself thinking about making love, and no matter where he was, his gaze always searched for her.
For a moment he let Becky drift across his mind. Had they married, she wouldn’t be here on this drive. She craved comfort. And if she had by chance come, she’d complain about the dust, the heat, the smell—sleeping on the hard ground.
Funny, now that he let himself recall her, he remembered how nothing was ever quite right. Becky had complained about everything. And when they’d talked, the conversation was all about inconsequential things.
Why hadn’t he noticed? He was such a fool.
A sudden thought jolted through him. The excuse Becky had given Newman for not running away with him or marrying was her p
arents. She’d flat lied. Mr. and Mrs. Golden built their lives around making Becky happy. Whatever she wanted, she got. They would never have kept her from making a life with Newman—especially since she was with child.
Becky hadn’t married Newman for the simple reason that he couldn’t keep her in the manner to which she was accustomed. That right there explained why she was going to marry Houston. He could’ve given her the things she wanted. The materialistic woman never loved him—she’d used him for her own gain.
Houston inhaled the sage-scented air, glad he’d dodged a miserable life. Not that he was glad Newman had killed her. Not that at all. He’d never have wished that on her. But he couldn’t have been happy with her—she was no Lara.
Lara. He couldn’t wait to see her. She was worth twenty of anyone.
If only she wanted him for more than just his name. He’d give anything for her to see him for the man he was. Hope rose. Maybe one day.
As he came within sight of the campfire, he sat bathed in the darkness for a while. His gaze caught on her, held by her beauty and grace. Watching her, his heart did that little dip-and-whirl thing. She stirred around, setting the camp to rights and readying for bed, reminding him to hurry.
For a second, he forgot that she didn’t love him and probably never would.
For a second, he could pretend that Lara welcomed him with open arms.
And for a second, hope rose that she’d find a place in her heart for him.
At the sound of him riding up, she turned and hurried to meet him almost before he swung from the saddle. The glistening in her eyes hadn’t come from smoke and he realized he’d caused her tears. Hell!
“Houston, I was worried. I thought Yuma had…”
“Come here, darlin’.” Houston gently pulled her close. “I’m sorry I caused you to fret. I never want to cause one second of worry in your pretty head.”
Lara snuggled against him. He prayed that the moment would last forever.
“I saw you ride out and knew you’d gone to look for him.” She smoothed his leather vest. “If you were to die—”
“I won’t.” Houston tightened his hold and pressed his lips to her temple. “Only one of us will need a grave and I can assure you that won’t be me. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, lady.” The last part came out husky, because the words had to squeeze through his constricted throat.
* * *
Lara shifted in his arms so she could stare up into his eyes. She couldn’t bear to hear him speak of dying. She needed Houston Legend. The thought shook her. He’d become so much more than just a stranger she’d married. He filled her with happiness and crowded out the face she’d tried hard to forget.
Oh God, if anything happened to him, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to go on.
And if he died because of her—she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t have his death on her hands. She had to keep him far away from Yuma Blackstone.
“I like being stuck with you.” Lara clutched his vest. “I can’t live knowing you died because of me. This may sound strange in light of everything, but what if we try to talk to him?”
“Men like Blackstone only listen to one thing—bullets.” Houston lifted a tendril of hair. “Talking won’t change the course Yuma’s set. You know that.”
“Can we just try before someone dies?”
“Some things a man can’t let go. This is one. Lara, the time for taking the high road has passed,” he said gently. “He’s stalking you and Angel. Even if I could let it lie, can you? After the threat he made today? I could kill him with my bare hands just for touching Gracie.” He forced himself to swallow his anger. “I won’t trust the bastard—not even for you.”
He was right. They couldn’t look the other way. As terrified and jumping at every noise as she was, she couldn’t forgive the man who’d stolen so much from all of them. He would not get their lives too. She had to believe that Houston would come out on top when they came face-to-face. And she couldn’t stop that from happening no matter what she did or said.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed the reminder. Gracie and Henry are lucky to be alive.”
“And you.” Houston brushed her cheek with his lips.
She let out a troubled sigh. “What are we going to do?”
“Fight.” The word came out harder than he’d probably intended, but it summed up everything and tied a bow around it. “We fight. We hold our ground. We don’t give an inch, not even when the white flag comes out. Not even when Yuma Blackstone cries for mercy, for there will be none.”
“These drovers didn’t ask for this,” she cried.
“Neither did you or Gracie or Henry.” He softened his tone and added, “I couldn’t hold these men back, your brothers included, even if I tried. Shoot, Clay is fighting mad and wants to make the land run red with their blood. You’re the wife he never had and Gracie his child. Down to a man, you’re worth fighting for. You’re family. Lady, the best of you isn’t over. In reality, your life is only beginning.”
His statement jarred her and she realized he spoke the truth. She’d finally begun to live and she wasn’t about to let anyone steal that from her.
He kissed the tip of her nose and chuckled. “Besides all that, you’re their cook and nobody messes with the lady who puts grub in their hungry bellies.”
She smiled at his poor attempt to joke.
“They tip their hat and offer a grin before they take a plate but I never knew they thought of me that way,” Lara said.
“Well, now you do.”
When she tipped back her head, Houston placed his large hands along her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. Tingles raced up her spine as she lowered her eyes and drank like a desert wanderer drawn to water.
The instant their mouths touched, a wildfire spread through her, devouring her as it swept along. Overpowering hunger rose up in its wake, and for a moment, she didn’t know if she could rein in this heated desire flooding over her.
Or if she even wanted to.
But another woman lived in Houston’s heart, she reminded herself.
Trembling, Lara broke the kiss and pressed her face into the hollow of his throat. Maybe this was all they’d have—a few stolen moments in his arms. Moonlit kisses and heated touches would have to suffice.
His breathing was ragged. “I don’t know what to call this thing between us,” he murmured at her ear. “Maybe it will grow into something lasting. Lara, would you tell me what you want?”
If she could speak of this strange desire filling her, what would she call it? She had no idea, but prayed it was permanent. She couldn’t do temporary.
“I want to make a life with you, Houston.” Lara breathed in his scent, feeling safe in his arms even though trouble stalked them. The familiar lowing of the cattle, the horses nickering, and the cowboys’ voices filled the night. She lost track of time as he held her close, not moving a muscle, barely breathing.
One thing was clear to her—they needed each other. Maybe this was what marriage meant. Being there in whatever way she could, giving of herself in whatever way he let her. And taking whatever he was willing to give.
“But you love another and I have no right to—”
“Wait right there,” Houston said, stopping her. “Who do you think I love?”
“Becky Golden. Don’t you?” She stared up in confusion. Was there someone else?
“We need to clear up some things.” He took her hand. They walked to the firelight and the barrels they used for chairs and Lara sat down.
Surrounded by the crackle and pop of the fire, she listened as Houston spoke. “Becky and I grew up together, and we just kind of fell into an easy relationship. I think our parents might’ve pushed us into the idea of marriage more than anything. Looking back, I can see that she didn’t share the love I thought I felt. I don’t t
hink I could ever have made her happy. After she was shot, I found out she was in the family way with another man’s baby. I felt betrayed and angry, but then I came to see that we’d have been absolutely miserable together.” He lifted a loose strand of hair and gave her a wry smile. “Truth is, I confused deep friendship with love. I was simply in love with the thought of having a wife and children—a home.” He brushed her cheek with a finger. “I have everything I want and more.”
Her heart ached for him. Becky had tried to destroy this good, decent man.
Another thought froze her. She’d done much the same thing to him. He was raising someone else’s child. Oh God, what had she done?
“Houston, I didn’t realize exactly what we asked of you. To raise Gracie, a babe that’s not yours…” She put her hands to her mouth.
“Stop.” Houston stroked her cheek. “There hasn’t been a day since we married that I think of Gracie as belonging to anyone but me. She’s mine. Do you get that? She’s my daughter. And I don’t regret that for one single minute. I never knew it was possible to love any child the way I do her.”
Lara stood and touched his face like she’d dreamed of doing. She stared into the brown depths of his eyes and brushed his cheeks and jaw with her fingertips. “I see the man inside and he still has much to give. You can’t let her define you. You define yourself. You alone decide your future. I’ll be grateful if it’s with me.”
Houston kissed her fingers. “I like to see fire flashing from your eyes and hear the anger in your voice. As I rode in tonight, I saw everything about Becky clearly and I feel free for the first time since the shooting.”
“Good.” Lara gave a sudden gasp. “You haven’t eaten. You must be starving. I put some supper aside for you. It should still be warm.”
“Whatever you have is fine. Don’t fret about me.”
“If not me, who? Who’ll care for you, Houston?” Everyone needed to matter. Lara knew she’d always be there to fill the job. For as long as he wanted her.