Heart of Texas Volume One (41 page)

Glen and Cal must have heard her coming because both men stepped onto the porch when she arrived. She glared at Glen with undisguised fury.

“Ellie, is something wrong?” he asked, walking down the steps toward her.

With her hands planted on her hips, she yelled, “Did you actually believe for one minute I was going to marry Richard Weston?”

He hesitated, fifteen or so feet away. “That's what you said.”

“I said,” she returned from between clenched teeth, “that Richard had proposed. I did
not,
I repeat,
not
at any time state that I'd accepted his proposal of marriage.”

Glen's face was stricken. “You didn't?”

“I most certainly did not. Furthermore, anyone with eyes in his head would know it's
you
I love.”

“You love me?”

“Don't pretend you didn't know, Glen Patterson. I've loved you forever.” But at the moment she wasn't particularly happy about it.

“Then you'll marry me, right?” Glen looked like he was about to fly across the yard and haul her into his arms.

Ellie stopped him cold in his tracks. “Give me one good reason why I'd want to marry a man who's got the brains of a tumbleweed.”

“She loves you, all right,” Cal shouted from the porch steps.

“You stay out of this,” Ellie shouted back, pointing an accusing finger at Glen's brother. “You encouraged him to do it, didn't you?”

“Yup.” Cal seemed downright proud of himself.

“The next time Glen asks you for advice, ignore him.” Then she threw open the truck door and climbed inside.

“Ellie!” Glen started toward her. But when she revved the engine, he apparently knew better than to press his luck. He stayed where he was. Good thing, because in her current frame of mind she was liable to run him over.

When the dust had died down, Ellie glanced in her rearview mirror and groaned. Cal and Glen Patterson were leaping about, hugging each other wildly.

G
LEN
P
ATTERSON HAD NEVER
been happier. Ellie loved him.
Him.
Not Richard Weston. And by golly, she was going to marry him, too!

“I knew it,” Cal announced cheerfully as though he was personally responsible for the unexpected turn of events.

“Did you ever see such a woman?” Glen asked, watching Ellie drive away. Damn, but she had spunk. It wasn't every woman who would've come out here to confront him the way she had.

Cal chuckled. “Don't think I've ever seen a female that mad.” He glanced at his brother. “How're you going to get her to marry you?”

That was a question Glen hadn't considered. Of course Ellie would marry him. She loved him. He loved her. Marriage was the natural result of such feelings. Sure, she was mad at him right now, but she'd cool off and they'd sit down and talk this out and plan for their future together. “Any suggestions?”

“From me?” Cal adamantly shook his head. “Didn't you hear? Ellie wasn't too impressed with the advice I gave you earlier, although I don't know what I said that was so wrong. Do you?”

“Nope.” Women baffled him just as much as they did Cal. “So, who should I ask for advice?”

Cal thought it over a moment. “Mom?”

“Not Mom,” Glen said. He loved his mother, but she was sure to meddle. All mothers did. Once she heard about this, she'd want to fix it; she'd want to talk to Ellie and act as a go-between and generally get involved. Glen shuddered. He preferred to handle the situation himself.

Cal shrugged. “Dovie, then. She's got a good head on her shoulders.”

“Dovie,” Glen repeated slowly. Yes. She was a good choice.

After a night without sleep, followed by one of the most emotionally draining days of his life, Glen nearly nodded off during dinner. As soon as the evening chores were done, he showered and went to bed. He'd figure out what he should say to Ellie. Tomorrow… He'd figure it out tomorrow. As he drifted into sleep, he actually felt happy for the first time in weeks.

 

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
G
LEN OPENED
the door to Dovie's Antiques. Glancing around, he immediately removed his hat. Little wonder the women in town loved this place. It was full to the rafters with pretty things, and smelled a little like Savannah's garden. If his nose didn't mislead him, he caught the scent of some mighty fine brandy, too. Must be what she used to make that famous cordial of hers.

“Hello, Glen.” Dovie was her usual lighthearted self. “What can I do for you this fine day?”

“Ah…” For the life of him, Glen couldn't think of a single way to start the conversation.

Dovie regarded him expectantly. “I'll have you know, young man, I have my money riding on you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you think only the men are in on Billy D's lottery?”

“Oh, that.” Glen had forgotten all about that silly lottery. He stood just inside the door, arms tight against his sides, for fear one wrong move would send hundreds of fragile little things tumbling to the floor.

“Come on inside, Glen,” Dovie encouraged. “You aren't going to break anything.”

He took a few cautious steps, then glanced anxiously around the store and back at Dovie.

“Is there a problem?” she asked with concern.

Glen had always liked his mother's friend. It was Dovie who'd suggested the bed-and-breakfast idea and who'd helped his mother decorate the old Howe Mansion.

“I need some advice,” he finally said. The last time he'd been this unsure of himself—not counting the day he proposed to Ellie—was when he'd roped his first calf in the Brewster rodeo at the age of ten.

“The advice is free, but the tea will cost you a dollar.”

“Tea?”

“I think best when I'm sitting down.” Smiling, Dovie motioned toward the assembled tables and chairs in one corner of the shop.

“All right,” he agreed.

“I take it this all has to do with Ellie?” Dovie asked, leading him to a small table covered by a pretty floral cloth.

“You know, then.”

“I know you and Richard made first-class fools of yourselves at the dance.”

Glen wished folks would forget about that. “It's gotten worse since.”

Dovie carried a blue-and-white china teapot and two cups to the table. “I was afraid of that.”

“Cal suggested I talk to you about Ellie. You see, I want us to get married. I tried asking her and it didn't turn out the way I'd hoped. Can you help me?”

“I can try.” Dovie poured him some tea, then served herself. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon?”

Glen shook his head mutely. He generally sweetened his tea, but he wasn't willing to do it with one of those miniature silver spoons. He already felt like an oversize buffoon in this dainty little shop.

“How would you like me to advise you?” Dovie asked.

“Can you tell me what I can say to convince Ellie to marry me?”

Dovie frowned slightly. “Perhaps you should tell me how you proposed the first time.”

Glen recalled what he could of their conversation. “Best I can remember, she started getting hostile when I mentioned I felt responsible for embarrassing her at the dance.”

Dovie nodded, and Glen continued, “I told her I admired her and I wanted to marry her. That was when I brought out the diamond ring I borrowed from Cal.”

“You
borrowed
an engagement ring?”

“Just so I'd have something to offer. I wanted Ellie to know I was serious, and a man doesn't get more serious than diamonds.”

Dovie was frowning again.

“Was that so terrible?” Glen demanded. “All I want is for Ellie to know how much I love her.”

“Why don't we start with telling her that this time?” Dovie suggested.

“Ellie already knows how I feel about her.” It was incomprehensible to him that she wouldn't. He'd made himself the laughingstock of the entire town over her. When she'd rejected his marriage proposal, he'd swallowed his pride and wished her happiness, even at the cost of his own. A man didn't say those kinds of things to a woman he didn't love. “She's
got
to know,” he added.

“A woman likes to hear the words, Glen.”

It was that simple? Of course he loved Ellie, and if all he had to do was tell her how much… He reached for his hat and got eagerly to his feet. “Great. I'll let her know right now.”

Dovie grabbed his shirtsleeve. “I'm not finished yet.”

“Oh.” He sat back down.

“Is there anything else you plan to tell Ellie?”

Glen wasn't sure he understood the question. Perplexed, he gave it a moment's thought. “Just that I can't get married next Tuesday because the farrier's coming.”

“Oh, dear.” Dovie briefly closed her eyes.

“That's the wrong thing to say?”

“Well…yes.”

“Thursday's not good, either. I play poker at Billy D's on Thursdays, but I'd be willing to give that up if Ellie decided she wanted to get married then.”

“Have you considered that Ellie might want a church wedding?”

He hadn't, and the mere suggestion made his blood run cold. All this time he'd been thinking they'd fly off to Vegas and get married the same night. A quickie wedding, because now that the decision had been made, he was ready. Strike while the iron's hot, as the farrier might say.

“Besides, I think you might be getting ahead of yourself,” Dovie murmured. “First you've got to convince Ellie to be your bride.”

“Right.” If the truth be known, he'd given more thought to the honeymoon than the wedding. He was in love, and damn it all, he wanted to make love to Ellie. “Why does this have to be so complicated?” He wanted to know. “I love her, and she's already confessed she loves me.”

Sighing, he took a careful sip of his cooling tea. “When she was going through her father's things, she found this old Bible passed down from his family,” Glen said, thinking out loud. “She showed it to me and turned to the page where her family's names and dates are listed. Weddings, deaths, births—you know. All day, I've been thinking about Ellie and me entering our names in that Bible, and someday, God willing, writing down the names of our children. I love Ellie, and it's a love that'll last all our lives. Maybe a hundred years from now one of our great-great-grandchildren will come upon that Bible and wonder about us. I'd want them to know—just from the way we lived—that despite everything life threw at us, our love survived.”

“Oh, Glen, that's beautiful,” Dovie said softly and squeezed his hand.

“It was?”

“Tell Ellie that.”

“About putting our names in her family Bible?”

“Yes. Speak from your heart and don't mention the farrier, all right?”

“I'll do it.” Glen felt immediately better.

 

G
RADY RELAXED AGAINST THE BACK
of a molded plastic bench in the bowling alley. Lloyd Bonney had asked if he'd substitute for him the next two weeks while he was on vacation. It'd been ages since Grady had last bowled, but Lloyd was a likable guy and he hated to turn him down. That wasn't the only reason, either; for the first time in six years, he was able to indulge himself with a few leisure activities. He used to enjoy bowling and had been fairly good at it.

He was a bit rusty, but he'd bowled a decent series tonight. It felt good to be with friends, to laugh again. Finally he had the financial security and the extra time to make it possible. This evening had whetted his appetite for more.

He was on his way to Billy D's afterward when Max Jordan followed him outside.

“Grady, you got a moment?”

“Sure.”

Max shifted his gaze away from Grady. “Listen, I realize this is a bad time and all, but I need to talk to you about Richard.”

“Yeah?” Grady didn't like the sound of this.

“He charged a few things at my store—clothes and boots— when he first came back to town and he hasn't paid me and…well, it's been almost three months now.”

Grady's grip tightened on his bowling bag. “How much does he owe you?”

Max stated an amount that made Grady's stomach clench. His brother must have picked out the most expensive clothes in the store.

“Earlier this week he charged a new suit,” Max continued. “It's a pricey one, and—”

“You let him do that even when he hadn't paid you for the other things?” Grady was furious with his brother and with Max, too.

Max lowered his eyes to the pavement. “I feel like an old fool now. Richard stopped in the store and told me he was getting married. I was pleased for him and Ellie. It wasn't until later that I learned they weren't engaged, at all.”

“It isn't your fault.” Grady blamed himself as much as anyone. It'd been a mistake to let Richard stay at the ranch for even one night. He knew the kind of man his brother was, and still he'd allowed Richard to take advantage of him. Well, no more. He was sending that bastard packing.

“I'll take the suit back,” Max said.

“I'll personally see that he returns it,” Grady told him. “I can't tell you how bad I feel about all this.”

“And the other money he owes? Richard had me put it on the family account, but so far I've mailed all the bills to him.”

“I'll make sure he takes care of it right away,” Grady pledged. Richard would pay one way or another, he decided. He should have realized sooner what was happening. His no-good brother arrives in town, throws himself a party and buys some fancy duds to go along with everything else.

Max Jordan wasn't the old fool; Grady was. Why hadn't he guessed where Richard's clothes had come from? Why hadn't he known Richard would pull something like this?

The evening that had started out with such promise was ruined. Grady changed his mind about meeting his friends for a beer and headed directly back to the ranch, instead. He was having this out with Richard once and for all.

The lights in the house were off when Grady got home. He attacked the stairs with a vengeance and didn't bother to knock on his brother's door. It shouldn't have surprised him to find the bed empty, but for some reason it did. Although it was about midnight, Richard wasn't anywhere to be found. Why the hell shouldn't he party half the night, seeing as he hadn't done a lick of work all day, or any day since he arrived? Grady resisted the temptation to slam the door shut.

He lay awake half the night, listening for his brother's return. Eventually he'd fallen asleep and never did hear him come home. But then, Richard seemed to have a sixth sense about such things; even as a child, he'd been able to smell trouble and avoid it.