A Texan's Promise (6 page)

"While I'd bet money that she does, indeed, need your protection, I don't think that's all there is between you. I got eyes, Captain."

"I promised her father I'd look after her. That's all I plan to do. All I ever plan to do."

"Ever's a long time. Why are you talking like this?" His eyes widened. "Are you married already?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't be traipsing across the country with her if I was."

"Then?"

"She was almost . . . violated," he murmured. "The last thing she needs is another man pawing at her."

"Now that is a right shame." Bitterness and compassion crossed the lines of Ken's face, making Clayton remember, too, the terrible things they witnessed during the war. "'Course, with you, things would be different. You wouldn't harm her. I reckon she knows it."

Clayton couldn't ever imagine touching her in anger. He'd never dare paw at her, either. No, with Vanessa he'd be so much more. He'd cherish her, hold her close, teach her to trust, to love.

But that dream had come and gone. What's more, that hadn't been what he'd promised her father. Vanessa's father had never envisioned a man like Clayton for his daughter.He'd seen too much in the war. Clayton knew that.

No, instead of thinking of dreams and marriage, he'd promised to protect her, to keep her safe. He had a feeling that had been the Lord's purpose, too. "Ken—"

"Things are just as rough as they ever were on the range, Clayton. Men outnumber women ten to one. No lady is safe on her own. She needs a man's protection." Ken coughed, though whether it was to clear his throat or to illustrate a point, Clayton wasn't sure. "I thought you knew that."

Trapping Vanessa into a marriage she didn't ask for or want would be worse. At the moment, he was out of a job, with little money in his pocket save for the wad of bills Miles had pressed into his palm and his own meager savings.

Vanessa was hurting, too. A little bit of her innocence had been shattered by all that had occurred. The last thing she needed was to worry about sharing the marriage bed. "I can't marry her, Ken."

"You need to. If not for her future, then for her past. That stepfather is going to come after her; it's his right. Any judge in the land will side with him and string you up by your toenails for abducting an innocent young thing."

Straightening to his full six-foot height, Ken continued."We know if she even does survive life with this man, her options for marriage are over. Word will be out that she's traveled with you. You know what I'm saying, Clay? Men will hear that she's been alone with you."

"It hasn't been like that."

"It don't matter what has happened, sometimes it only matters what people think has. But . . . no judge will take a man's wife."

"It's not fair to her. She deserves someone better."

"You're as good a man as I've ever known, Clayton. Seems to me she'd be a lucky woman to have a man like you."

"But—"

Ken cut him off. "Maybe you deserve what I'm suggesting.Maybe you deserve what that little lady does . . . someone to make the darkness of your past almost bearable." Brightening, he said, "Looky there. Here comes Mary."

Clayton followed his friend to the wagon, where Mary sat beside a young boy about six who looked like Ken's spittin' image. Two other children sat in the back, surrounded by bags of flour and grain.

"Mary, honey, this is Clayton," Ken said as he helped her from the wagon. "He and his friend Vanessa are passing through. I told them we'd appreciate their company."

"We would indeed," Mary said, all graciousness. After introductions were made to Petey, Lanie, and Boone, she kissed Ken. "Lanie and I will go visit with Vanessa."

"She's likely to be tired," Clayton warned. "We've been traveling nonstop for well on three days."

Mary winced. "I certainly know what that's like. I suspect she could use a nice cup of tea and a dose of female company."

After directing Petey and Boone to help unload the wagon, Ken motioned for Clayton to follow him to the house. There they found Vanessa sound asleep on the rug in front of a low fire, Mary and Lanie sitting on a chair and watching her with worried expressions.

"Poor thing," Mary said when the men joined her. "She hasn't moved an inch since we walked in."

Clayton felt a rush of tenderness as he looked at Vanessa.Sprawled on her stomach, her head rested on her folded elbows. Just like when she'd been fourteen and he'd found her asleep in her mother's garden, Vanessa slept with her mouth slightly open. Obviously, some things never changed.

"We've been going hard. She's exhausted." Clayton knelt next to Vanessa. "If you tell me where I can take her, I'll pick Van up and get her settled."

Ken raised a brow and had the gall to look shocked. "Where? Why, I don't rightly know. After all, we only have one extra bed—and that's in the loft in the barn."

Unable to help himself, Clayton brushed back a lock of Vanessa's hair, supposedly to check her forehead, but actually just to be able to touch her. "Just give us the children's rooms for now. I'll sleep on the floor next to her."

"I'm afraid that won't do."

Now he was getting irritated. They'd come too far, and had been through too much, to deal with the silly excuses from a man who used to take orders from him. "Like I need this."

"We have children in the house," Mary blurted."Impressionable ones."

Clayton eyed Mary. Had she changed Ken so much? There'd been a time when his former lieutenant hadn't cared one whit about propriety. During the war, he'd witnessed Ken making his way to sporting houses more than a time or two.

Unwilling to bring up such activities in mixed company, he shrugged. "Fine. I suppose she can sleep right here for now.Tonight, I'll sleep in the barn." But oh, how he hated to even think of being so far from her. What if she woke and needed him? What if she woke and was afraid?

Ken shook his head. "Think, Clayton. Think and listen for once. You need to marry her."

Impatiently, Clayton shook his head. "This isn't the right time. Besides, even if Vanessa would marry me, who are we going to find to perform the duties? A traveling preacher might not show up for months."

Mary's eyes sparkled. "Actually, my husband could perform the ceremony."

"What?"

Ken puffed up a bit. "I neglected to tell you that I took up the Lord when I threw down my rifle."

"Well, that is news."

"The best kind, don't you think?" murmured Mary.

Clayton eyed Vanessa again. Lying there by his side, she looked more at peace than she had at any other time during the last three days.

She was precious to him; he'd do anything to keep her free from harm.

He'd already taken her from the only home she'd ever known. He'd made her ride for hours in the hot sun, barely giving her time to see to her needs. He knew she was hungry and exhausted and frightened of her future.

He knew she cried out in her sleep when she dreamed about her past.

But bind her to him in marriage? Did he dare do such a thing?

"Ever give thought that things are happening for a reason, Clayton? That we're all part of the Lord's divine plan?" Ken murmured. "There's a reason you're here for Vanessa. There's a reason I became a minister. It's no coincidence that I'm here for you. Just as the Lord brought you to the Circle Z Ranch, He brought you both to me. It's fate, pure and simple."

Almost whispering, Ken gripped his shoulder, just like he used to do when reporting to Clayton in the war. "Listen and think, man. Listen to me and to your heart."

Clayton closed his eyes. A sense of peace washed over him as memories surfaced. Memories of him and Ken. Of Vanessa at thirteen, all gumption and sass. The way she used to follow him around, holding that puppy of hers like it was her new best friend.

Of the feel of her in his arms when she'd cried about Price's beating.

The way she'd looked at him that morning. Depending on him. Trusting him.

The way he'd always felt about her. That she was too precious for him, but that he needed her like he needed water and air. He loved her.

Slowly, he stood up. Turning to Ken, he swallowed hard and stood to attention. "Ken . . . I'd be much obliged if you would marry us, if she'll have me."

Ken smiled sweetly. Looking toward the ceiling, he whispered, "Thy will be done."

Vanessa woke to find two small faces peering at her under thick ebony mops of hair.

When she raised herself on her elbows, they both grinned like it was the Fourth of July. "Hi."

"You're up!" one of them—the boy—exclaimed.

"I am. Who might you be?"

The girl spoke. "I'm Lanie and this here's Pete."

"I'm Vanessa."

The bigger one, Pete, giggled. "We know that."

Feeling a bit self-conscious—she couldn't even remember crawling into her bed—she sat up and brushed her hair back away from her face. "Do you two happen to know where Clayton is?"

"Captain Proffitt?"

The military title sounded unfamiliar yet just right. There was something about Clayton's bearing that still seemed mighty military-like. "Yes."

"He's washing up outside." Lanie gasped. "Oh! We were supposed to go find him the minute you woke up."

"The very minute," Pete added with a knowing nod. "I'll go fetch him."

As Pete darted out, Vanessa wished she hadn't been in such a rush to ask about him. She must look a sight! Her head felt foggy and her limbs stiff. It would be far better to visit with him after she put her hair to rights and got her bearings back in order.

Seeing Lanie still eyeing her intently, Vanessa said, "Go tell Captain Proffitt that there's no need for him to rush on over, would you please? As soon as I clean up, I'll be right out."

"Yes'm," Lanie said before scampering out, barely shutting the door behind her.

Thankful to be alone, Vanessa shrugged off her blanket, stretched, then crossed the room to stand before the mirror over the washstand. What she saw made her grimace. She looked even worse than she'd imagined.

Three days on the road had taken its toll. Her face was mottled from exposure to the sun, her clothes dusty and unkempt.Only sleep, a jar of lotion, and a thorough scrubbing would set her to rights.

But since that wasn't possible, Vanessa decided to get cleaned up in a flash. Already feeling remiss for falling asleep before even giving more than a brief hello to their host, she unpinned her hair and looked in the bag that someone had left at the foot of the bed. In a second, she pulled out her silver-backed brush.

Quickly she unbraided the mass, then began the painstaking process of smoothing away the knots and trying to put it back to order.

Her hands stilled when she saw she was no longer alone."I'm sorry," Clayton said, standing at the doorway. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm the one who's sorry," Vanessa said, pushing the mixedup mass of hair behind one shoulder. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Did I sleep very long?"

"Not long enough—only a couple of hours." He gazed at her hair before turning back to the spot above her head. "I know you're exhausted, sweetheart."

Finally, an endearment. Over the last few days he'd spoken far less of all those sweet words, seeming to find comfort in keeping their exchanges formal and proper.

She hadn't cared for it.

Now she wondered why he stood so hesitantly at the door.What was bothering him? They'd practically lived in each other's pockets since leaving the ranch.

Another minute passed.

She licked her lips. "So. The children said you wanted to see me?"

Almost reluctantly, he stepped closer. "I did."

Vanessa put the brush down. "Any certain reason?" She smiled, letting him know that she was teasing a little bit. They both knew he never needed a reason to see her.

Clayton's eyes raced to her hair once again. Vanessa felt his gaze as clearly as if he'd run a hand from her head to her waist.

He cleared his throat. "We, uh, need to discuss something."

She motioned to a chair. "All right. You want to sit down, maybe?"

After another awkward moment, he did just that, though Vanessa knew he was uncomfortable. Strange that for once she felt in control. "I had to take my hair down," she said when she noticed he stared at it again. "I think a bird could have nested in it, things were such a mess."

"I . . . I don't know if I've ever seen it completely loose like that, Van."

She noticed he merely made an observation, not a compliment."I'll just—" Quickly she did her best to separate the flowing mass into two sections. "There's too much, don't you think?" she asked as she began to braid one side. "More than once I've been tempted to cut it."

"Don't." The word had come out powerful and short, like he'd pulled it from someplace deep within his body.

Confused, she chuckled. "You only say that because you haven't had to spend a whole hour combing it dry. I tell you, men must have been the ones to decide that women needed their hair long. I've never met a man who would have enough patience for this much bother." Now that one section was neatly braided and secure, she quickly attacked the second half. Finally, she twisted the ends together and secured the braids to her nape with a pair of tortoiseshell combs.

When Clayton still said nothing, only looked her over, just like she was the underbrush in the woods, she scooted to the edge of the bed, facing him. "I'm ready to listen."

He looked at her hands holding the hairbrush before speaking."Ken Willoughby is now a pastor."

"Oh! Well, that is good news, isn't it? He seems like a nice man."

"He feels it would be a good idea if he married us."

Married?
The brush slipped from her fingers, landing with a small plop on the white and baby blue wedding ring quilt.Surely she'd heard him wrong. "Married?"

Clayton looked uncomfortable. "I think he might be right."

There were a thousand reasons Pastor Willoughby was wrong. But instead of naming one, she gave into the words blaring loud inside her head. "We can't just get married!"

"We might have to."

Under no circumstances could she trap him to her for the rest of their lives. She'd never forgive herself. And, privately, she knew one other thing. She wasn't ready to be so close to any man. Whenever she closed her eyes, the first thing she ever saw was Price's beady eyes staring at her. The heat she'd spied in them scared her. His rough hands grabbing at her collar had been almost as hurtful as his belt had been. The other things he'd done—the things she didn't dare admit to Clayton, to herself—well, those images had branded her forever.She was sure she'd never be the same.

Strain formed around his eyes as she kept her silence. "I know it's not what you had planned, but the more I think on it, the more I think it's the right thing to do," he said, each word coming out stiff and plodding. "You need the protection of my name, Vanessa."

She already had his strength and his gun. "I'll be fine."

"If something happens to me, you won't be."

"Nothing's gonna happen to you." Even the thought of Clayton being injured made her feel dizzy and out of sorts.

"You never know. Plus, we can't run forever, Vanessa. If your stepfather finds you and has a mind to bring you back, we'll have no recourse."

"He's not going to find us." He couldn't. She knew she couldn't survive another episode like the one in her room.Well, she was sure she wouldn't want to.

"Sure he will." Harshly, Clayton added, "He married your mother for selfish reasons, Van. I asked around. Price spent quite some time looking for a big spread and a weak woman.I'm sorry to say that he found what he was looking for at the Circle Z. You were a bonus."

She didn't like to hear the things he was saying. "You were there. The hands looked to you for direction. I'm sure he's glad you're gone."

"It's not me I'm concerned about." Lowering his voice, he murmured, "Price is the type to hold tightly to anything that he even thinks might be his. You know I'm right."

Against her wishes, she did know. She shuddered at the memories. Never would she forget the sting of Price's belt or the harsh look of wanting in his eyes. "I can't go back to the Circle Z," she admitted. "Not while he's there."

He reached for her hand, calming her with his touch. "I know that, honey. As my wife, I'll make sure you never do.But . . . we need to make sure you'll never be forced to go."

The turn of events were startling cruel and more than a touch ironic. How many days, weeks, years had she imagined being Mrs. Clayton Proffitt? Of being curled in his arms on a porch swing? Of doing a hundred little things for him that only a wife could do?

In every instance, he'd been with her willingly. Romantically.Her childish daydreams had been filled with flowers and sweet words and happy-ever-afters. Not this. Never like this. There was only one thing to do, to admit one of her biggest fears. "I . . . don't want to trap you."

Eyes, so warm and tender, scanned every inch of her face, didn't look away. With a small smile, he said, "You wouldn't."

She didn't believe him. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I'm almost thirty years old. It's past time I married."

"To someone of your own choosing." Desperate, she said, "Send for Miles. He'll come help me. I know it."

Their hands still linked, he squeezed gently. "Miles won't come."

"You don't know that."

"I know how little he's done for you in the past, and I know how under your stepfather's thumb he is now. Even if he had the mind to help you, he couldn't. I honestly don't know if he has it in him to protect you. More likely, he'd inform Price of where you are and take him along."

"You don't know that for sure."

"I know that your brother's just aching for someone to notice him. This might be his opportunity to earn some respect—or whatever he's going to call it—from Price."

"That's a horrible thing to say. He's my brother."

"He is. He's not a child, but he acts like one. I was far younger when I was leading bands of men into battle."

"He hasn't had the opportunities—"

"He has. He hasn't chosen to take them. There's a difference.I don't want to be cruel, but I don't want to sugarcoat things. We don't have that luxury anymore." Shifting, he faced her fully and took her other hand. "Vanessa, a marriage between us would be right."

Her hands were warm in his.

A dozen images flashed before her. Images of being with Clayton, listening to him read his Bible. Praying by his side at church on Sundays. Laughing at his love for fried chicken and stewed greens. She knew him so well, had believed in him for so long. "Clayton—"

"Marry me."

This was every dream and every nightmare come true.Unable to help herself, she glanced at his lips, imagined the feeling of him kissing her, of his hands gliding across her shoulders, wrapping her in a warm hug.

Of the two of them doing so much more. Against her will, she shuddered.

With a creak of his knees, Clayton kneeled at her feet, once again showing her how much a man he was. No position could ever lower his innate dignity. Not even kneeling at her feet. "You'd do me proud if you would become my wife," he said quietly. "It would be my greatest honor to call myself your husband."

Vanessa's mind raced, just as her insides melted at the words.

Yes. She would be proud to be his wife. God surely had never produced a finer man. But she'd never forgive herself if she saw disappointment in his eyes or regret that things had turned out the way they had.

What if one day he found someone else? Someone better?

Someone still innocent?

Clayton would take his vows to heart. He'd never consider leaving her for that person, but he'd feel the sting of regret, she was sure of it.

And how would it feel to know she'd trapped him? To know that she'd prevented him from loving, from following his heart? That knowledge would be just as sharp on her conscience as the sting of Price's abuse had been on her back.

And because she knew how sharp that sting went, far deeper than skin and flesh, she shook her head even though her heart was breaking. "Clayton, there's got to be another way."

"There isn't."

She knew he was right. It was just . . . did everything have to be so hard? She met his eyes again.

Still on his knees, he turned even more serious. "Vanessa, we've been alone on the trail for days now. You're a beautiful woman." He swallowed hard. "Desirable. Men will assume that I didn't leave you alone. They'll expect you to have been . . . used. Decent women won't associate with you. Honorable men won't treat you with respect."

Each word felt like a slap. Furthermore, Vanessa knew he was right. But still . . . she didn't care. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. Reputation always matters. I should have looked ahead. I should have thought about that, but all I thought about was getting you away." A shadow formed behind his eyes. "I should have thought about the consequences."

How could he? During the last three days, Clayton had seen to everything else—the horses, the trail, setting up camp. He'd even gone hunting and cooked a rabbit the night before.

His expression shuttered. "I know marriage to someone like me—a glorified ranch hand—isn't what you intended, but you don't need to worry. I'd never force myself on you. We could keep our relationship the same as it always was."

Her breath hitched. "Clay, what are you saying?"

He swallowed hard and finally looked away. "I'd keep myself—my needs—from you."

"I . . . are you sure?"

Curving one strong hand around her own, he linked his fingers through hers. "I'm very sure."

Just as she was about to rebut him again, she caught a peek of them in the mirror, Clayton kneeling, her hands in his. The sight was one she'd remember always; but their words were so far from the picture of them, with Clayton at her feet, she shook her head in wonder.

Who would have thought so much would change between them? Her heart loved him—yet a strange, scary voice in her head feared marriage. Clayton, too, looked torn between old wants and new responsibilities.

She dared to smile. "I guess neither of us knows what we want. Leastways, not anymore."

"I do. I want to care for you, Vanessa. I want to protect you with everything I am."

She wondered if there would come a time when that wouldn't be enough. For now she knew he was right. She couldn't go back and change her circumstances. She couldn't pretend that Price hadn't been in her room.