Be My Texas Valentine (8 page)

He kissed her nose. “You’re an easy woman to love,” he said. “Any chance you’d be willing to let me touch you like I did last night?”

She blushed. “We shouldn’t talk of such things.”

“Fair enough,” he answered as he put on his hat and held the door for her as they walked to the porch. “I should be back by supper.”

She watched him swing into the saddle. He’d said he had to go over to Boss Ramsey’s ranch and take care of a cow he’d left in a canyon almost a month ago. He wanted to get an early start.

As she watched him go, she wished she’d said something about how glad she was she’d asked him to marry her or even about how she’d let him touch her again, but she hadn’t. She’d let him go without knowing how she felt about him. Fear had kept her silent. Fear, not of him, but of caring too much.

She hated to admit it, but he’d lied to her. He’d said she was an easy woman to love, but she knew that couldn’t be true for he was the first man who’d ever even tried.

An hour later when she went into town to make her deliveries, she wore her gloves. Brody had been working with the horse and the animal seemed to have the concept that he should go in one direction.

At one house the woman followed her out to her wagon and handed her a ball of blue twine. “Tie it in a bow on each bedpost and you’ll sleep many years with this one.”

Valerie took the yarn guessing Brody would laugh at her if she tried such a thing.

When she stopped to have an early lunch with her father, he commented that people were leaving good luck charms with him.

“How you getting on with this one?” he asked.

She remembered a week after she’d married the first husband, she’d been too proud to beg to come home, but her father must have seen her sorrow. With the second husband, Samuel, it was more a long shot from the beginning. They barely knew each other and the mating between them had been fast and mechanical.

She hadn’t loved either of them, but she’d done her duty and mourned them both.

“He’s a hard worker,” Valerie said to her father when she realized she hadn’t answered. She wanted someone to talk to. “He cares about me, Papa. Little things, like he doesn’t start eating until I sit down, and he’s kind. He worries about me. He even made me buy gloves. And he kisses me, not because he thinks he should or out of duty, but just because he wants to.”

Valerie knew she was rambling, but she had to get all that was Brody Monroe put together in her mind. One thing he was not. He was not going to be just a partner she could walk away from after a year. He’d proved that this morning when he’d kissed her good-bye.

Her father nodded his head as if he were reading his daughter’s mind. “I saw that, even from the first. Men like him, they’ve been damaged by the war. Hurt bad in more ways than just the body. They may never say the words, but I think he loves you or, at the least, he’s willing to try his best.”

She shook her head. “Four days married and he left me to go finish a job for Boss.”

“When it’s done, he’ll stay around. If you want him?”

She smiled. “I want him, Papa.”

An hour later when she got home, she was a little surprised Brody wasn’t waiting for her. She spent the day cleaning house and planning a garden. By nightfall, when he wasn’t home, she grew worried.

Finally, after midnight, she went to bed alone. She spent the night worrying about what might have happened to him, and by dawn, she had the buggy ready at first light. She didn’t know where he was, but she knew two things. He didn’t stay away of his own will, and she didn’t plan to sleep until she found him.

Dead or alive, she’d bring Brody Monroe home, where he belonged.

Chapter 8

Brody spent the night leaning against a huge rock that had wedged his leg so completely against the solid wall of the canyon he couldn’t move. Hours ago, he’d climbed over the barricade he’d built to check on the cow and her calf before spending a few hours moving rock so he could get them out. Only, when he was almost all the way down, he slipped, causing an avalanche tumbling after him. His right leg slipped between two rocks and others piled down on top, bruising him all over and making it impossible to move enough even to get a grip on any rock so he might try to free himself.

He spent a few hours yelling for help, then trying to reach his Colt, but it was no use. His voice grew hoarse and the back of his hands were scraped and bleeding. As nightfall came, he tried to sleep, conserving his energy so he could fight to get free at first light. He knew no one would be coming for him. No one on the Double R knew where he was, and if they did, he doubted any of the cowboys would search. He’d always been invisible to them.

If he was lucky, his horse might go back to the barn. It had been her home for over a year. If she was hungry enough, she might wander back. Then at least Caleb would know he’d been on the ranch. He might come looking, but with all the miles of open range, he wouldn’t have much luck at finding one man hidden behind a wall of rock.

Luck, Brody thought. For the first time in his life he’d found something worth keeping, someone worth loving, and right now she was sitting at their little place probably crying her eyes out because she thought he’d left her.

He wanted to scream to high heaven that he’d never leave her. His proper little wife with her firm belief in what was right and wrong to do in the daylight. His wife who thought she could survive out on a farm alone, but was afraid of thunder. His wife who felt like heaven to touch, and when she smiled, he swore he could feel his heart start beating.

He’d been cold inside for so long he’d forgotten how it felt to care, but he cared for her more than he’d probably ever be able to explain. He wanted to build the farm with her at his side. He wanted to watch storms and sunsets from the porch and sleep the rest of his life with her cuddled against his side.

An hour before dawn he finally passed out from the pain. For a while he felt like he was home with her. He could feel her breathing next to him. How could there be any luck left in the world if fate let him find her and lose her so fast?

When he woke, he screamed again and shoved at the hundreds of pounds of rock holding him in place. For a while, he lay back, giving up to the pain he felt inside his heart and all along his leg. The memories of the war came to visit like old relatives he’d hated. Memories of being hurt and lying among the bodies one night when the air seemed too cold to even breathe in. He’d been sure he would die before morning. All seemed dead around him. Memories of being lost in the night, cold and hungry. He’d walked toward a fire knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance it would be the enemy and he’d be dead before he could feel the fire.

It occurred to him that he was already dead, maybe had been for years, and God was playing a joke on him, letting him see a window of what his life could have been like.

“No!” he yelled. He wouldn’t give up. Valerie was real. If he closed his eyes, he could see her face. He could feel her breath.

He could curl his hand to the exact size of her breast. Valerie was real and she was his wife. He’d promised not to leave. He’d promised he’d never lie to her.

Brody pulled his wits together and began to plan. He’d yell as loud and as long as he could every thirty minutes. If he heard anything, he’d throw handfuls of rocks as high as he could and maybe a few would reach the surface. He’d keep trying to get his Colt free.

An hour later, he budged the Colt an inch, then another. The sun was at midmorning when he pulled the gun out, relieving an ounce of the pressure. He tried to move his leg, but it wouldn’t respond. He checked the gun. Six bullets. Six chances.

He fired off the first shot.

No answer.

Brody knew it was important to wait. If no one heard the first shot, it would be unlikely anyone would hear one ten minutes later. He had to wait.

At noon, he fired the second shot.

No answer.

At about one he tried again and again at two.

No answer.

He guessed it to be three when he fired off the next to last shot.

He thought he heard a gunshot echo thirty seconds later, then another closer to him. Brody yelled and kept yelling until he heard horses.

A few minutes later, Earl Timmons looked over the ledge above him and shouted, “That you, Yank?”

“It’s me! I’m wedged into the rocks!” Brody saw Montie’s red head lean over the top. He’d never been so glad to see the two worthless cowboys in his life.

They didn’t waste time talking. In a few minutes, both were heading toward him with ropes looped about their waists.

“We’ll get you out,” Earl said as he hit ground and started moving rocks bigger than his head. “If we get a few of these out of the way, Montie and me should be able to shove one enough to get you free.”

Montie worked as hard as his brother, but complained the entire time about how they’d better hurry. “That wife of yours arrived banging on the boss’s door this morning with the sun. She was so sure something had happened to you the boss told us all to get to searching.”

“Valerie came here?”

Earl laughed as he paused long enough to wipe off sweat. “She claimed she wasn’t going to tolerate another husband just riding off and dying on her. She said she wanted you back even if it was in pieces.”

Montie agreed. “We thought about heading back, but we didn’t even dare go back for lunch. Between her and the boss, they’d chicken-fry us up for supper if we didn’t come back with you.”

Brody groaned as they pulled one of the rocks away from his leg.

Earl knelt down and moved the next rock away carefully. Brody saw his blood-soaked right leg for the first time.

“It’s broke, Yank.”

Brody didn’t argue. The rocks had kept pressure on the wound, but now blood flooded over the rocks like a thin stream.

The brothers wrapped the leg as fast as they could and carried Brody over the rocks. As they lifted him onto Earl’s horse, Brody asked between clenched teeth, “Why didn’t you just leave me, Reb? I know you’ve always hated me because I’m a Yankee.”

“Yeah,” Earl agreed as he tied Brody into the saddle, “but you see, Yank, you’re
our
Yank and we don’t want to lose you.”

Montie laughed. “And as long as her curse is directed at you ...” He couldn’t help giggling as he tried to talk. “The rest of us feel pretty safe.”

Brody would have laughed if he’d had the energy left. He felt Earl swing up behind him as he passed out.

An hour later, he clenched his teeth around a washcloth as the doctor set his leg just below the knee. It hurt like hell, but he was alive, and for that, Brody could only be thankful. He’d made Valerie leave the room and she hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d seen her eyes when she’d stepped aside as the men brought him in. She’d been crying.
No,
he thought anew,
she’d been crying for him.

The doc cleaned away the blood and told Earl to let the widow in.

“She’s not a widow,” Brody said. “I’m here, and unless you’re not telling me something, I think I’m going to live.”

The doc smiled. “That you will. Looks like the boys found you right in time. Another hour or two and I’m not sure you would have had enough blood left in you to make it.”

The doctor talked to her in a low voice as he insisted she help. “I don’t want his leg moved any more than absolutely necessary for three days. I’ll be by to help you with the first cleaning. After that he’ll be in a brace for a month. Don’t let him take it off, period.”

She nodded, listening to every word and not even looking at Brody.

When the doctor stepped away to mix up some medicine, Valerie moved to Brody’s side. She reminded him of a little soldier, and he had the feeling there would be no bending the doc’s rules once he got home.

“He’s fine,” the doc said one more time to calm her. “When you get him home, keep him there. If you feed him, he’ll heal, Mrs. Monroe. I’ll come by and add a proper splint when the swelling goes down. Then he should be able to hobble around until it heals. He was lucky, it was a clean break.”

“Lucky,” Brody mumbled as the medicine the doc had given him and the lack of blood and sleep finally caught up to him.

When he woke, it was almost dawn the next day. Valerie was sleeping in one of Boss Ramsey’s office chairs beside his bed. She almost took his breath away with her beauty, all curled up in the boss’s chair with her hair a mess around her.

He reached for her hand and woke her.

“Are you all right?” she leaned close and whispered.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “You should be in bed sleeping.”

She shook her head. “Not without you.”

He smiled, guessing every part of his body ached except his heart. “I want to go home,” he managed before drifting back to sleep.

When the doctor came in, he sent Valerie off to eat breakfast while he checked Brody’s leg.

“Looks like the bleeding has finally stopped.” Doc Hollis was a plain man who never wasted words.

As he wrapped the wound and tied Brody’s leg to a splint to prevent any movement while they got him home, the doc said, “You know, there’s a rumor that your wife has a curse on her. Seems every man she marries dies. You almost had it come true.”

“I don’t believe in curses.” Brody wanted to add that he was tired of hearing about the widow’s curse, but he didn’t figure it would be wise to argue with the man trying to fix him up.

The doc nodded and asked, “Tell me, Yank, what would you do if you knew the curse was true? What if you knew that you only had a day to live if you don’t get away from her?”

Brody smiled. “Well, then I’d go home and spend one last wonderful day with my wife.”

The doctor laughed. “Spoken like a man who loves his wife.”

Brody saw no use in denying it. “I do love her and you can tell all in town to stop worrying about me because I’d come back from hell itself to be with that woman.”

He heard a tiny scream and turned to see Valerie in the doorway. Her eyes were huge, and she looked like she might bolt at any moment.

He couldn’t chase her but he couldn’t turn away either. Sometime in the hell of being trapped between the rocks, he’d made up his mind and he wasn’t a man who changed it easily.