Laura Drewry

by Here Comes The Bride

  Gabe’s huge hand covered hers, the reflection of his own breaking heart mirrored in her eyes.

  “Tess,” he murmured, pulling her into his embrace. “God, Tess, don’t you see? As long as you’re here, I can’t help myself but look after you. It doesn’t matter whether I want to or not, I can’t seem to get you out of my system.”

  He stepped back, locking her shoulders between his hands. Tears flowed freely down her face, her eyes already swollen.

  “I can’t let myself love you, Tess,” he rasped. “God knows I want to, but I can’t.”

  “I know,” she said, a forced smile trembling on her lips. “I know.”

  “Tess . . .”

  “I’m fine,” she lied again. “Really, I am. I don’t know why I’m crying, just tired I guess. I think I should go lie down for a while.”

  Neither one of them moved for a long moment, Gabe’s eyes searching her face for something, but what?

  “Good-bye, Gabriel.” She moved to step around him, but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her back.

  “I’m sorry, Tess,” he murmured, gazing down into her still-damp eyes. “I . . .”

  His hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs rubbed along her cheekbones. Damn, she was irresistible. His head dipped, her eyes lowered, and suddenly he was kissing her, tenderly, slowly, hungrily, with an urgency that rocked him to his very core. Her lips responded instantly, molding against his. Her arms slipped around his back and held him as though he were her life support.

  She was so soft, so fragile, so . . .

  “No,” he muttered against her hair, pulling away. “We can’t.”

  Tess stumbled back, unable to regain her balance for a moment. When her eyes opened, the blatant pain he saw there just about dropped him to his knees.

  “You’re right,” she said. “We can’t. I can’t do this, Gabriel. I can’t let you kiss me like this knowing you will never want me the way I need you to.” Her head lowered, the tears falling straight to the porch now. “Please don’t ever kiss me again.”

  Gabe swallowed hard, fighting not to take her back into his arms right there and then.

  “Tess . . .” he choked out. “I . . .”

  “Good-bye, Gabriel.” She moved around him and fled through the door before he could even catch his next breath. When he finally gained his senses, she had disappeared up the huge oak staircase, leaving him alone on the porch.

  “What the hell happened?” Bart asked, barreling through the door. “What did you say to her?’

  “None of your damn business.” Gabe jammed his hat back on his head and stumbled down the steps. “You coming?”

  Bart glanced back at the open doorway, but Collette was already gone, having followed Tess up the stairs to her room.

  “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m comin’. Waited this long, guess a little while longer won’t kill me.” Gabe had already disappeared around the bend before Bart even hoisted himself up into the saddle.

  A bitter cold settled in the depths of Gabe’s soul. In his mind’s eye, all he saw was Tess, the trembling tears on her eyelids magnifying the raw misery she tried so valiantly to hide.

  Damn it, he cursed silently, his shoulders slumping forward. Why did it have to be this way? Why did she have to be so honest, so unlike most women? If she’d try to force herself on him, make him feel guilty about pushing her away, he’d feel so much better. But instead, she accepted his rejection and forged on. He kept going back to her, kept kissing her, kept needing her.

  Why the hell couldn’t he leave her alone? They’d both be better off.

  “Gabe!” Bart barked, riding up beside him. “You listenin’ to me?”

  “What?” he muttered, blinking his glazed over eyes again and again. “What’d you say?”

  “Holy-oh-hell, Gabe, just go back there an’ fix it.”

  “Fix what? There’s nothing . . .”

  “That’s a load of crap an’ you know it. That girl’s ’bout as heartbroke as I ever seen and you ain’t lookin’ much better.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice void of all conviction. “I can’t . . .”

  “Don’t be such an ass! A’ course you can. Just turn that damn animal ’round and go back.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why? ’Cuz yer damn fool pride won’t let you? Because you like bein’ miserable?”

  “You don’t understand. . . .”

  “Yer right.” Bart nodded. “I ain’t got a friggin’ notion what the hell’s goin’ on in that thick skull o’ yours, but if I was you, I’d be ridin’ fast as I could back to that ranch ’fore one of them other stupid gawkarses takes a likin’ to her. She ain’t gonna wait fer you forever you know.”

  “I didn’t ask her to.” Gabe’s voice remained low, his stomach lurching with every word his brother spoke.

  “No, you didn’t,” Bart agreed. “’Cuz somewhere in that little pea brain o’ yours, you think she’s better off somewhere else. Well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, brother, that little girl ain’t goin’ anywhere whether you like it or not. So these are your choices: get the hell back there right now and make her yours once and for all, or sit back and watch her marry up with one of the other jackasses in town an’ then you’ll have to watch her be with someone else for the rest of your life. You willin’ to do that?”

  Gabe’s eyes never looked up once. His blind gaze remained on the saddle horn, and if it weren’t for Zeus’s own instincts and direction, Gabe probably would have ended up in Mexico. Not that he would have cared either way.

  “Damn it, Gabe!” Bart snarled. “She loves you! Don’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What the hell d’you mean it don’t matter? A’ course it matters.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Gabe’s head shook slowly. “She deserves better than this, she . . .”

  He stopped, shrugging his shoulders in resignation.

  “You mean she deserves better ’n you.” Bart’s frustration boiled over. “An’ yer right. She deserves a man who’s willin’ to fight for her, who ain’t sittin’ here feelin’ sorry for himself when he ain’t got no right to be. She deserves a man who ain’t scared of ’er.”

  “I’m not scared of her!” Gabe snapped, sitting a little straighter. “It’s . . .”

  “It’s just you’re scared she’s gonna up an’ die on ya.”

  Gabe stopped his horse with a jerk.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, Zeus rebelling against the hold Gabe had on the reins.

  Bart pulled up beside him and stopped.

  “Come on, Gabe, I know I ain’t the brightest star in the sky, but hell, this is as plain as the day is long. You think ’cause she’s a city girl like Mama and Catarina, she’s got no business living out here.”

  “It’s not just that. . . .”

  “No, I know it ain’t. Yer so damn scared that even if she could stand livin’ out here, she’d prob’ly up and die on you anyway. Well, I got news for you, big brother—we’re all gonna die one day.”

  “I know that!”

  “So wouldn’t you rather spend what time you got here with someone worthwhile rather than a bunch a stinkin’ ol’ cow punchers?”

  Gabe set his jaw before he spoke.

  “But what if . . .”

  “What if she decides tomorrow or next week or next year she can’t stand livin’ out here? What if she decides you ain’t the man for her? Or what if she’s the next one to get bit by a rattler?”

  “Yeah, Bart, now that you mention it, what if any one of those things?”

  “The hell with all of those things, Gabe! I coulda easily said what if she decides this here’s heaven right on earth? Or what if she decides for some crazy reason yer the only man she’s ever gonna want? Or what if she lives to be a hundred? Sure it’s a gamble, but hell, Gabe, if you don’t take that gamble, how you ever gonna know?”

  “I’m not the gambler in the family,�
�� Gabe said cynically.

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t usually the one talkin’ sense neither and look at me go.”

  Bart spat into the dirt below him and spurred his horse forward, leaving Gabe to stare in wonderment after him. Who was that man and what the hell did he do with the old Bart?

  Chapter 22

  “Frankie tells me yer acquainted with them Calloways.” Wyatt Langman made no attempt to disguise his accusatory tone.

  The Langman kitchen fell deathly quiet.

  “Yes,” Tess answered tentatively, peering over her coffee cup.

  “Don’t much like them boys,” he said, picking his teeth with his long, yellowed fingernail. “Their pa weren’t good fer nothin’.”

  Tess arched her brow. “I’m afraid I never met the man.”

  Wyatt grunted. “Man murdered my boy Adam, right there in Dottie’s saloon.”

  “Now, Pa,” Collette intervened. “The judge ruled that an accident. Besides, you and Adam—and probably Clayton, too, as far as that goes—were too drunk to know what was going on or why.”

  Tess thought she caught something strange in Collette’s expression but it passed too quickly to be sure.

  “Don’t you talk to Pa that way!” One of the brothers, Tess guessed it was Evan, was on his feet, his pasty face splotched in anger. “You ain’t got no idea . . .”

  “Sit down, son,” Wyatt ordered. “I won’t have no one raisin’ their voice to a lady in my house. It ain’t right.”

  The man sat down, but his glare only darkened.

  “She shouldn’t be talkin’ to you like that, Pa. She don’t know what happened. She weren’t there.”

  “Neither were you, Evan,” Collette pointed out. “The only witnesses were either already passed out or too drunk to see clearly, so we’ll never know what really happened, will we? Besides it was almost twenty years ago, why can’t we let it go?”

  “Let it go?” Wyatt repeated. Tess noticed the blue vein on the side of his neck begin to throb. “Now you listen here, Lettie. Adam was your brother, whether you remember him or not, and I don’t care what no one says no how, murder is murder, and so help me God, Clayton Calloway should rot in hell fer what he done.”

  “Pa . . .”

  “That’s the end of it.” He turned his attention back to Tess who had to force her eyes to blink back the fear she felt lurking within them.

  “Now, Miss Tess,” he said. “I won’t have those Calloways on my land, you hear? As long as yer a guest in this house, you keep that in mind. I can’t stop you from seein’ them in town but if I ever see them on my land again, I’ll shoot ’em both deader ’n a can of corned beef. Understand?”

  Tess could only nod for fear if she opened her mouth she would scream.

  “Good.” Wyatt pushed back from the table. “Come on, boys, we got us some work to do.”

  The Langman boys, all six of them, filed out of the house behind Wyatt, leaving Tess and Collette alone in the kitchen. Tess had been living at the Langman ranch for over a week but still was not accustomed to the Langman brothers.

  “Don’t mind Pa,” Collette said softly, her voice shaking. “As Damon says, he’s more gurgle than guts. He’d never do anything to Bart or Gabe.”

  “He sounded very convincing to me.” Tess lowered her cup and reached for Collette’s hand. “You can’t have Bart coming to call on you here if that is how your father feels about him.”

  The girl nodded. “I know, but if Pa finds out I’ve seen Bart on the side, he’ll be even angrier. Oh, Tess, what am I going to do?”

  Tess inhaled deeply, patted Collette’s arm, and smiled her determined smile.

  “Don’t you fret, we’ll figure something out. Now why don’t you explain your family to me?”

  “What do you mean?” Collette asked. She lifted the coffeepot from the stove and filled their cups.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” Tess was quick to say, “but if Adam was already grown by the time you were born and he’s been dead almost twenty years, your mother must have been an incredibly strong and durable woman.”

  Collette laughed. “My mother was, yes. Adam’s mother on the other hand . . .”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My pa’s been married four times, Tess.” She laughed harder at Tess’s shock. “Yes, it was quite the scandal, I suppose, but it’s so long ago it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

  “Four times?” Tess asked. “He doesn’t seem old enough. . . .”

  “He’s close to sixty.” Collette nodded. “You’d never guess it to look at him, but he is. He married his first wife, Adeline, when he was eighteen. Adam was born within a year, and then a year later she died birthing Beau.”

  “That’s awful,” Tess sighed, her thoughts straying to Emma Calloway and her own tragic demise.

  “Yes,” Collette agreed, “but that’s only the beginning. Pa had no idea how to look after babies, nor did he have any interest, I suspect, so he remarried right away.”

  “That’s not so unusual,” Tess said. “Don’t men usually remarry quickly when they have young children?”

  “Maybe, but they don’t usually marry their dead wife’s sister!” She giggled. “It’s okay, Tess, I think it’s all rather amusing myself. Pa married Adeline’s sister, Virginia, less than a month after Adeline died. Virginia soon found herself in the motherly way as well, and over the next seven or eight years, they had Clint, Damon, and Evan. Apparently, she was unable to carry any more children after that, though God knows they tried. To hear Beau tell it, poor Virginia lost at least one child every year after that until her death.”

  “How did she die?” Tess asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “I believe she bled to death after losing one of the babies.”

  “Oh my Lord.”

  Collette nodded. “Anyway, Pa took his time in remarrying after her. Evan was the youngest at that point, I think he was about three or four. Then Pa married Harriet, who gave him Frankie and Garth, and finally he married my mother, Margaret. She passed when I was fourteen.”

  “My goodness, Collette, that’s quite a story.”

  “I know there’s more to the stories than what I’ve been told, but I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Collette’s face flushed. “There’s been talk in town for as long as I can remember that my parents were . . . that they . . . knew each other long before they were married. Long before Harriet ever died.”

  “Oh dear,” Tess breathed. “That must have given the old biddies in town something to flap about, I’m sure. Has your father ever said anything to you about it?”

  Collette shook her head. “I’ve never asked. He did marry my mother, after all, whether it was out of love or duty, I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t think I want to know.”

  “You’re probably right,” she nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their coffee. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s really none of my business.”

  “Tess,” Collette smiled. “I have no secrets from you. Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” She chewed her lip for a moment, unable to find a tactful way to phrase her question. “What is it about Adam’s death that has you so guilt ridden?”

  Collette blanched.

  “I’m sorry, Collette,” Tess hurried on. “You don’t have to answer; it’s none of my business. I just . . .”

  “No, Tess. I’ll tell you.” Tess waited patiently while Collette gathered herself. “There was talk, just talk mind you, that my mother wasn’t as faithful to Pa as she should have been.”

  “You mean . . .”

  Collette nodded. “People started talking about how much time she was spending away from the ranch, away from Pa, and how much time she was spending with . . . with . . .”

  “Collette?”

  She cleared her throat. “With Clayton Calloway.”

  “What?” Tess�
�s jaw dropped nearly to the table. “Surely . . .”

  “No,” Collette hurried to say, “it turned out she was going over to El Cielo quite often, but it was because of Rosa. She and Rosa had become close friends, but to the snoops in town all they saw was a married woman spending time at a widower’s ranch. They even went so far as to accuse her of trying to pass me off as Pa’s child when I was really Clayton’s.”

  “But you look just like your pa!” Tess cried. “How could they even think such things?”

  Collette shrugged. “People are nasty. Anyway, Clint and Damon say I looked more like Mama when I was a baby so there was really no way to tell. Pa met up with Clayton at the saloon one night and they got into it pretty badly. Pa can get terribly mean when he’s been drinking, and I believe Adam was trying to keep the two of them apart when he got caught in the middle.” She paused, took a sip of her now tepid coffee, and continued. “So you see, Tess, if it hadn’t been for me, Adam would still be alive today.”

  “Oh, Collette, that’s not true! It wasn’t your fault, for goodness’ sake. You had nothing to do with it.”

  “I’d like to believe that, but my stomach tumbles and rolls every time I think about it.”

  Tess studied the girl’s face. She was sure just by the look in Collette’s eyes that Wyatt Langman had done next to nothing to assuage the girl’s worries.

  “Mama told me the truth,” Collette almost whispered, “but I still can’t help but feel responsible.”

  “You see?” Tess smiled back. “There you go—your mother would never lie to you about something like that, would she?”

  “No,” she said. “Especially since she knew how I felt about Bart. If he and I shared the same father, I would need to know.”

  “But you said your mother passed away when you were fourteen. Surely . . .”