by Linda Broday
“Want me to come with you?”
“Nope. Take the men and push the herd as fast as possible. Don’t stop until full dark. From now on, we need to make double time. I’ve taken Frank’s weapons, but keep a close eye on him.”
“I’m not sure we can trust him yet,” Clay agreed.
“Exactly.” Houston’s chaps flapped against his legs as he strode to his horse. “And, Clay, tell Lara not to worry.”
“Will do, but I might as well tell the moon not to rise.” Clay grinned. “Women are real good at frettin’ over stuff.”
“Guess you’re right.” Houston glanced at Virgil’s sullen face. It bothered him that the kid hadn’t said two words since returning. Houston softened his voice. “Walk with me.”
With a nod, the sixteen-year-old fell into step. After they’d taken ten strides, Houston stopped and faced the young man. “I’m sorry we got crossways. But I promised your dad I’d bring you safely home. Being a father myself now, I know how I’d feel if someone took Gracie off and brought her home hurt or dead. I’d want to kill them.”
Virgil blinked hard. A little of the anger left his eyes but his body was still rigid.
Houston went on. “You’re a big help to me. I trust your instincts. You have the best instincts I’ve seen for someone your age and you’re more man than some grown men I’ve known. You’re a brother to me and when that bullet found you…” Houston rubbed his eyes, hoping to take the tremble from his voice. “I wish it had hit me. Maybe one day you’ll understand why I overreacted. Do you think you can help Lara until I make it back to camp?”
“Absolutely.” Vigil relaxed his stance. “Houston, just so you know…you’re all right. I’m proud to have you in the family. And thanks for caring about us Boones.”
“Anytime.” They walked back to the horses, where Clay and Emmett waited. Virgil mounted. Houston watched the three ride to catch up with the herd before he focused on his task.
The saddle creaked as Houston swung into it, and he rode toward the distant rock formation rising up from the inhospitable landscape, the place where Frank said they’d camped last night. With his partner’s arm shredded by that bullet, Yuma would be focused on patching him up. He wouldn’t want to let another die. Now was the time to strike.
He reached into his pocket for the note left on Gracie. The words stared back at him.
I could’ve killed the brat. Next time I will.
Anger bubbled to a fine froth all over again. For the bastard to threaten a defenseless baby set his blood boiling. Through a narrowed gaze, he stared at the distant rock formation.
The Appaloosa snorted and tossed his head back and forth as his nostrils flared. Apparently, the horse shared his hope. Maybe this would end here and now.
* * *
The jutting boulders Frank had pointed to were jagged and sharp. Houston decided not to risk injury to his horse and dismounted. Besides, he could be quieter on foot. Frank said that Yuma never slept in the same place twice, but he didn’t want to get sloppy. He might have only one chance, and he wasn’t about to ruin it.
Sliding the Colt from his holster, he picked his way over the obstacles. Frank had described a hollowed-out area in the midst of the rocks where they’d bedded down.
After thirty minutes of treacherous going, Houston decided Yuma Blackstone was part goat. Every so often he’d pause and listen, but he heard only the sighing of the wind and chirps of an occasional bird. Still, he pressed on. Just as he’d decided Frank had lied about it all, the rocks opened up into a secluded clearing of sorts. There lay the remains of a campfire, with empty cans strewn about.
Houston’s boot kicked a drained whiskey bottle and sent it rolling. Blackstone left a mess wherever he went. Sliding his Colt back into the holster, he scanned the rubble. Spying nothing of benefit, he made his way back to the Appaloosa.
The light of the distant campfire became a beacon drawing him forward. In his mind’s eye, he saw a vision of Lara, cooking supper. Firelight softened her features and danced in her hair. In his mind, she turned toward his horse with a big smile. Running, she kissed him, pressing her curves against his body and letting her hand drift below his gun belt.
He shook his head and muttered to himself, “You’re getting as crazy as Yuma, you fool.”
But still, he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Soon it would be their golden time…his heartbeat thrummed.
He’d lived another day. Tonight he’d kiss Lara senseless and then…then he’d undo two buttons on her dress.
His mouth went dry just thinking about touching her again.
* * *
Lara stood at the edge of darkness, listening to the night sounds. But she didn’t hear the one thing she longed for—Houston’s horse.
Supper was over and done. She’d washed the dishes, put everything away, and set the wagon tongue to the north, and still he wasn’t back. She pulled her shawl close, refusing to let her mind dwell on any of the disasters that could’ve happened.
Houston was coming back to her, she told herself firmly.
In the distance, thunder rumbled as a storm brewed. Rain would make the drovers’ work miserable. Lightning spooked cattle and could start another stampede. Lara prayed not. Houston needed one good night’s sleep.
And he’d vowed to do it next to her.
Her glance swept to the Vincents’ wagon. No doubt Nick and Caroline were curled up on that narrow bed, doing what married couples did. Lara envied their bliss and the love that put such a glow on their faces. She’d give anything for it to be that way for her and Houston.
Turning, she put on a pot of coffee for the men coming and going. The drover named Joe sat on a bedroll nearby. He reached for his harmonica and began to play. She couldn’t place the song, but the melancholy tune settled over her like a sodden blanket.
Joe stopped and glanced at her. “He’ll be along directly, ma’am.”
“I know. But with trouble lurking about, I can’t help but worry.” She clutched her shawl together against a sudden chill.
Another drover, Pony Latham, propped himself on an elbow with his legs stretched out in front of him. He had a ragged playing card stuck in his hatband. “Houston’s tough. His old man taught him well. I’ve never met anyone who can put the fear of God in me like Stoker Legend.” Pony barked a laugh. “I think he took lessons from General Sam Houston himself.”
How odd to hear that. Lara had never seen anything intimidating about Stoker. She’d seen the side of him that welcomed her as a daughter, despite her scar. Stoker, like Houston, saw her with his heart, not his eyes.
While the coffee brewed, she listened to Joe and Pony tell stories about the Legend family. The one about rustlers hanging Sam drew a shiver. How horrible! But then being saved by an unknown outlaw brother, that story touched her. She couldn’t wait to meet Luke Legend, although he went by the surname Weston. She found it very admirable that he refused to take the Legend name until he straightened out his life. The Legend brothers shared many common qualities—honor, courage, and toughness, all bound together by deep caring for each other.
By the time the coffee was ready, she understood a little more about the storied family she’d married into.
Pony Latham rolled to his feet and reached for a cup. “Better get some of this before that storm rolls in.”
“Gonna be a long night for sure,” Joe agreed, moving toward the pot. “Who’s going to roust that new guy from his bed?”
“If you mean Nick Vincent, it ain’t gonna be me.” Pony stretched and yawned. He was tall, with the most bowed legs Lara had ever seen. The cowboy could put a barrel between his legs and have room to spare, and his friendly smile made him easy to like.
Joe sighed. “Not me either. Young Nick is one lucky man to have a willing wife and a warm bed.”
Both men glanced toward the Vincents’ wagon and
laughed at the vigorous motion.
Pony poured the coffee. “One thing about it, those springs must be made of iron.”
“Yeah, but at this rate, they’ll be plumb wore out soon.”
Another cowboy who’d been asleep through it all stirred. She didn’t know his name because he kept to himself. “Only fair way is to draw straws,” growled the cowboy. “Whoever gets the short one has to roust him.”
Joe snorted. “Don’t trust you, Pete. You’ll rig it somehow.”
“Aww, Joe, you wound me.” Pete sat up with a yawn.
Though she kept silent through the exchange, she had to agree. Nick and Caroline were very…passionate.
“Should be against the law having that much fun while we sleep on the hard ground in all kinds of weather, wishing for a woman next to us,” grumbled Pony. “We got needs too.”
“Well, one of us has to pull Nick out of there before Clay sees him missing from guard duty.” Joe grabbed some sticks from the dirt, broke them into pieces, and closed his hand around them, leaving the tops sticking out.
Pony drew a long one and gave a whoop. Pete took a turn, then Joe.
Joe let out a mild oath when he got the short stick. “Should’ve known.”
“Be gentle now,” Pete cautioned.
Grumbling, Joe marched to the Vincents’ wagon and hollered, “Time to go to work, Nick. You won’t like it if the boss has to drag your rear out of there and throw you on a horse.”
“Hold on a minute. I’m coming,” Nick yelled.
A few minutes later, Lara smiled at the young husband as he emerged, pulling on his boots as he crow-hopped to the campfire. She held out a cup of hot coffee and refilled the others.
While they drank the brew, she moved back to the edge of the night to wait. She heard them mount up a short time later, but she didn’t turn from her vigil.
* * *
Lara ran to put things away an hour later as the wind began to whip the canvas top of the wagon. After everything was secure, she stood next to Gracie’s crib, watching and listening. Finally, she heard the clop of hooves and knew Houston was back. Excitement swept through her. He rode in from the darkness like a black avenger, an image of strength and granite hardness. She made out the outline of his strong nose and jaw, but the profile otherwise appeared to blend with his Stetson and jacket.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of this man who could make her grow weak with a single glance.
Saddle leather creaked when he swung down. He looked utterly exhausted. She slipped an arm around his waist under the heavy denim jacket he wore. Her husband was solid and lean against her touch, and she was met with the heat of his body. A current danced just under her skin in anticipation of having him lie down next to her where she could feel him anytime she wanted. She was getting bolder and bolder after the visit to Dr. Mary’s. Not surprising, though. One by one, his silent, feathery touches were helping her heal.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Her words came out breathless and whispery.
“Me too.” His deep voice wound through her the way woven threads created a warm winter blanket. He draped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.
Lara pressed against his side, inhaling his scent of leather, sage, and horse. “I missed you.”
“Frank Farley told me where Yuma and his men slept last night. I went to try to find them.”
Lara gave a cry. “Why did you go alone? They could’ve killed you.”
“There’s only two of them left, and one is hurt bad.” He said it as though men who’d committed horrible, unspeakable crimes were no worse a threat than a bull gnat. “No better time to capture them. Besides, I ordered Clay to push the herd hard and fast.”
“Yuma and his man still have guns and bullets,” she reminded him with a frown.
He glanced up at the dark sky as a peal of thunder rumbled. “Storm’s coming.”
“It’ll be a miserable night for everyone.”
“Yep. I’ll have to head back out soon. All hands have to be on deck in a storm.”
“Oh, Houston, I was hoping you’d get to grab a little sleep. Do you at least have time for a cup of coffee?”
Houston leaned to whisper in her ear. “Maybe more than coffee if I play my cards right.”
“I can deal you all aces if it’ll help,” Lara teased.
“Play cards, do you, Mrs. Legend?” He grinned and plopped his Stetson onto her head.
Lara loved this playful side of him. Most of the time he was far too serious.
“What else is there, living with three brothers?” Breathless, she glanced up into his eyes, where a fire smoldered. “I got pretty good. Don’t mean to brag, but I used to win quite often.”
With a long whistle, Houston grinned. “You don’t say. I married a card sharp.”
In one surprise move, he swung her into his arms. Her heart nearly hammered out of her chest. Was this how women in love felt? Her pulse raced as she rested a trembling palm on his broad chest. If only she had someone to ask. She’d never breathe a word of her ignorance to the drovers, and Caroline was too young. Besides, she didn’t want anyone to know she was so dumb.
Houston carried her around the chuck wagon and out of sight before setting her down. Sheets of rain began to fall as the skies opened, but she didn’t pay it, or the wet tendrils of hair that clung to her face, any mind.
Without a word, he kissed her eyelids and traced the outline of her lips with his tongue.
She strained for more, as burning hunger spread through her. Whatever this thing was, she wanted it. Had to have it.
“Please, Houston. Please teach me how to love,” she begged against his mouth. Summer rain pelted her face and drenched her clothes, but it barely registered.
With a low growl, he crushed her to him, grinding his lips to hers. His Stetson fell from her head as the kiss stole her breath, her thoughts, her sanity. She stood in the rain with thunder shaking the ground beneath her feet. Swirling wind buffeted her, lightning flashed. But nothing mattered, not the rain running down her face, not the fact her clothes were plastered to her—nothing except Houston and his kisses.
Struck with the realization of just how much she needed this man, she wound her fingers into his wet hair, clutching him to her. The deluge had soaked her to the skin but she didn’t care. Lara lost track of time and space and let his kisses take her toward some invisible abyss. Once she’d fallen, she knew there would be no turning back. Something told her that whatever lay in that place would make her a true wife to Houston. Peace awaited there. Peace and healing.
And love? Perhaps all she had to do was reach for it. Could it be that simple?
His mouth left hers to kiss her earlobe and jaw. He trailed kisses down her throat before reclaiming her mouth in the rain. An ache built inside her for lots more.
He ran his hands down her back and sides before coming to rest at her waist. “Lara, I’m trying to go slow but you make it impossible. This fire inside won’t allow it,” he murmured against her mouth. “Woman, you make me crazy. You’re all I think about, all I see when I close my eyes. I’m consumed with hunger for you.”
With weak knees that threatened to collapse, Lara quivered in his arms. “I know nothing of tenderness between a man and woman. If you’ll show me how… I trust you. I want to be whole.”
She could say this only because he’d shown her how a man should treat a lady.
“You will be.” Houston held her face in his hands. “I’ll show you how, but not here, where danger lurks and someone can stumble upon us.”
“Can you hold me longer?”
“As long as you want, darlin’. Besides, I haven’t opened the allotted two buttons of your dress yet.”
Happiness washed over her that he hadn’t forgotten as she thought he must’ve. She leaned into his strength.
/> “But first, you’re cold. Let me try to shield you from the rain.” He picked up his Stetson and plopped it back on her head, then shrugged out of his jacket and slipped it around her.
Rain trickled down his face but he didn’t seem to care. Light as a feather, his fingers brushed her skin as he unfastened the top of her dress. He touched her skin once the buttons were open, and she burned with a strange desire. Her stomach flipped with that quickening she’d noticed before as heat spread along her limbs.
Lara closed her eyes and let the sensation carry her toward heaven and hope.
She undid several more buttons to allow him greater access. Wondering at her newfound boldness, she embraced the sweet ache running through her body. She hungered for more of his touch, the brush of his large, work-roughened fingers that were gentle and loving.
This man she’d married drove her to seek more—things she couldn’t have unless she reached for them.
Her breath came in gasps as pleasure caressed each nerve ending. She’d never known anything like this warmth that flowed over and through her. It reminded her of fluid honey, sweet and smooth as though it were a part of her. Not something foreign on the outside. This amazing sensation was inside her.
The day of their marriage, she’d believed the attack had rendered her incapable of this kind of emotion, but Houston had thankfully proven that theory wrong. Maybe she could know how it felt to love and be loved in the hands of a gentle man.
A powerful need to return what he gave to her weakened her knees. As he caressed her exposed flesh, she unfastened his shirt and stuck her hand inside, like she’d done before. His heart beat wildly against her palm with her fingers splayed across his skin. His body gave off sizzling heat. Slowly, in the driving rain, she began to explore.
Her mother had taught her to play the piano by ear, when she was eight years old. The trick was learning the keys and which one made the sound you wanted.
She was learning Houston by heart, one stroke at a time. She intended to have not only his moods but his body committed to memory by the time they reached Dodge City. When they checked into a hotel there, she’d know which kind of touch evoked the response she sought.