Lorraine Heath (13 page)

Houston did just that. He wove his horse through the herd, studying each horse, judging its merit. He would capture them all, but he would keep only the best. He didn’t have enough rope to tether them all on a lead.

The one thing he missed throughout the day was Amelia’s questions. She held her silence, and he longed to hear her voice. He had a feeling his place was going to seem so much quieter for his having known her.

Amelia lost track of the days as they traveled with the mustangs. Their range covered a considerable distance, but she wouldn’t have minded if they’d galloped forever toward the dawn. She loved the feel of the horse beneath her, the man before her when the herd sensed danger and ran. She loved the night sounds when the mustangs settled in around them. Houston would draw her close, and she’d sleep in his arms. Sometimes, they’d talk quietly about the horses, which ones they preferred. Or they would talk about the moments during the day when they hadn’t spoken, but each had sensed the other’s thoughts revolving around the same conclusions.

She knew before he told her that he preferred the stallion’s lead mare over the others. She knew he would use her as the foundation of his own herd. She knew he would take care in breaking her.

And she knew in the hours before dawn when he quietly led Sorrel away from the herd and took her to the small box canyon that she’d fallen in love with him.

“I don’t understand why I can’t stay with you.”

Cupping his hands, he brought the water from the small pond to his lips and gulped. “Because I’m gonna ride them hard, and I need someone to close the gate behind us once I lead them in here.”

“What if they don’t follow you?”

He stood and dried his hands on his trousers. “Then I’ll have to chase them down and rope the ones we want. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t understand how you can view the past few days as losing anything. It was the most incredible experience of my life.”

He ran his finger along her chin. “I didn’t mean it that way, but you have someone waiting for you. I need to get you to him.”

He strode to his horse and mounted. “Stay behind the brush until you hear me holler. Then start closing the gate. I’ll get over to help you as soon as I can.”

She sat on a boulder and waited. She watched the sun ease over the horizon and felt the loneliness sweep through her. Could a person love more than once in a lifetime, love more than one person this deeply, this strongly?

Dallas had answered her advertisement; she had given him her word that she would marry him. She had an obligation to fulfill, but she imagined years from now her children would circle her feet, and she’d tell them how she’d helped their uncle capture the beginning of his dream.

She heard the pounding hooves, felt the ground vibrate. She scampered behind the brush and waited. The herd came into view, thundering over the plains, their heads thrown back, their tails raised, their sleek muscles bunching and stretching as they rushed toward their destination.

Trailing behind, guiding them, keeping them on course rode Houston, low over his horse’s back, the wind whipping his hair, the sweat glistening over his body. She thought if she lived to be a hundred, she’d never see anything more magnificent.

Breathing heavily, their coats shiny with exertion, the mustangs galloped into the small canyon, heading for the pond. She heard Houston call her name as he roared past.

She moved the brush aside and began pushing the gate of limbs and rope. Then he was beside her, shoving it into place as the horses milled within the canyon. He fastened it, grabbed her about the waist, and hauled her to the side. “Don’t know if it’ll hold them,” he said as he released her.

The stallion was the first to notice that they were trapped. He reared up and rushed toward the gate of tree branches but stopped short of ramming against it. He trotted back and forth. Amelia could almost feel his anger.

“I have a feeling he’s a horse you don’t want to rile,” she said.

“Yep.” Houston dug through their belongings, located his shirt, and drew it over his head. “I could geld him. He wouldn’t be so spirited then.”

Amelia was appalled. “You won’t, will you?”

“Nope. He wouldn’t be much good to me then.” He walked to the gate and held out his hand. The stallion snorted and trotted into the late-morning shadows.

“What now?” she asked.

“We’ll give them a day to calm down, then we’ll pick the ones we want and head out.”

Amelia began to relish the approaching darkness, the coming of night. Houston never voiced his thoughts or feelings, but she thought he welcomed the night as much as she did.

They spoke seldom during the day, but at night, after they’d eaten, after he’d banked the fire and drawn her into his arms, they’d talk quietly about the past, the present, but never the future.

She came to know more about the man she was to marry in those quiet moments. Houston was more comfortable relating tales of his brother than tales of himself, but she loved best the moments when his story carried a portion of his life.

She learned that Dallas was the favored son, although Houston never came out and admitted it. From the warmth in his voice when he spoke of his mother, she knew that Houston had adored the woman who had fought to bring him into the world.

She hoarded the stories he told her like a miser might hoard gold, sifting through his words, searching for all the keys that unlocked the mysteries that were his.

Houston lost track of the number of days that they traveled, but every night when he gathered Amelia in his arms to sleep, he fought a battle with his conscience, trying to justify what he’d done. He could have taken her to the ranch and returned for the mustangs. He
should
have taken her to the ranch.

But dammit, he’d wanted her with him, to share the capture, to know the horses as he knew them, to be able to lay claim to a corner of his dream.

When he turned her over to Dallas, she’d begin to live her own dream, and he had no place in it.

He drew his mule to a halt. Amelia’s mount stopped, along with the mustangs he had in tow. They’d settled on eight. One was a puny thing that he didn’t think would ever amount to much, but the woman beside him was afraid it wouldn’t survive on its own when they released the horses without the stallion and his favored mare to guide them. So he’d kept the gentle creature, knowing full well his world wasn’t made for gentle things.

The shadows were lengthening but they had plenty of daylight left, too much daylight left. He veered his mount to the left, trusting everyone else to follow.

* * *

In awe, Amelia stared at the small spring. Three waterfalls, each no taller than a man, cascaded over the moss-covered rocks and through the brush, melting into the wide pond. The horses lapped at the clear water.

Beside her, Houston hunkered down, stirred up the water near the edge of the bank and dipped his palm beneath the surface. “It’s colder than I expected it to be.”

His voice reflected disappointment, and he glanced up at her. “Thought you might like a swim … but it’s too cold.”

She knelt beside him and flitted her fingers through the water. “When I was little, I used to run and hide when my mother told Dulce to get my bath ready. I thought it would be wonderful to never have to take a bath, to get as dirty as I wanted, and have no one care.” She tugged on her bodice. “I have never felt so filthy in my whole life. I’m surprised you get as close to me as you do.”

“I’m not too sweet smelling myself.”

“I think the horses smell better than we do.”

He nodded slowly. She lowered her hand into the water. “It’s not too cold once you get used to it.” Her gaze circled the pond. ‘Do you think there are snakes here?”

“I’ve never seen one, but let me scout around.”

As he studied the perimeter of the pond, she removed her shoes, her fingers shaking with the thought of a snake digging his fangs into her again. She took a deep, calming breath, determined not to let her fears guide her life.

“Think you’ll be safe. I’m gonna gather up some wood, then I’ll get a fire goin’. You can wade in. Holler if you see anything.”

He walked away. She didn’t care how cold the water was. They’d been traveling for days with little more than shallow streams that wouldn’t get her big toe wet. She wanted a warm bath in a big wooden tub, but she’d settle for this cold spring.

She’d placed his hat on a boulder and stripped down to her undergarments before she thought to glance over her shoulder. Houston was sitting back on his haunches before a pile of wood, staring at her. He scuttled around until he presented her with his back.

After all they’d been through, removing her clothes in front of him had seemed natural. She waded into the water and screeched.

Houston surged to his feet and raced across the clearing. Laughing, Amelia held up her hands. “No, it’s just cold.”

He skidded to a halt. “Don’t go hollerin’ like that. You made my heart stop beating.”

Tensing, holding her breath, she sank beneath the water. She came up laughing and sputtering. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Come join me.”

He looked as though she’d just plowed her fist into his stomach. She glanced down. The white linen clung to her body, outlining her curves, shading the different facets of her body. She eased into the water, welcoming its chill. “Come join me,” she repeated softly.

“Good Lord, woman, are you outta your mind?”

“Maybe I am, traveling across the country to marry a man I barely know. Traveling across Texas with a man I didn’t know. You could have taken advantage of me and you didn’t. I don’t think you will now.” She tilted her head to the side. “It feels nice to get the dust off.”

Houston knew his body needed a cooling off … bad. He tossed his duster onto the ground and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped down to remove his boots and socks. If his body didn’t like the sight of her so much, he’d remove his trousers. As it was, he waded in, cringing as the cold seeped through his remaining clothing. “How long before I get used to it?” he said gruffly.

She laughed. Lord, he loved her laugh. He loved the sparkle in her eyes, the way her lips curved up.

She splashed water at him. He couldn’t afford to play with her, afraid he’d wrap his arms around that slick body of hers, pull her against him, and never let go. Instead, he settled on the sandy bottom and leaned back on his elbows, allowing the cold water to lap around him, fighting a losing battle, trying not to notice how her white cotton was melting against her flesh.

She dropped her head back, her throat an arched column of ivory. He’d like to lay a dozen kisses from the tip of her chin to the base of her throat.

“Sometimes, I wish this journey would never end,” she said, wistfully. She lowered her gaze and met his. “But it will, won’t it?”

“Yeah, it will.”

She slid through the water until she neared him. “And all I’ll have are the memories of the time we shared,” she said softly.

The molten heat flowed through him with her nearness. He was surprised the water surrounding him didn’t steam. “We probably ought to get out now,” he suggested as he started to rise.

She placed her hand on his bare shoulder, and he dropped back into the water. “Amelia—”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she said.

“You didn’t embarrass me. It’s just that every now and then we start heading down roads we shouldn’t, and I just figured you were fixin’ to get on one of those roads.”

“Because I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve been with you?”

He nodded.

“That first day I met you, I expected this to be the longest trip of my life. I never thought I’d find myself hoarding moments with you as though they were gold.” She pressed her finger to his lips before he could protest. “Do you know which moment was my favorite?”

He shook his head, held by the glow of her gaze.

“After we crossed the river on Sorrel, before you returned to the other side for the wagon … and you smiled.”

He grimaced. “Woman, you must be part-near blind. If it looked anything close to what it felt like, it should have given you nightmares.”

“I could pull out my mirror—”

“Nope.” He sank deeper beneath the water. “I don’t like mirrors.”

“You’re not scarred that badly.”

“It’s got nothing to do with my scars.” And he’d be damned if he’d explain himself. Not this evening, not when their time together was drawing to a close.

She sighed heavily. “I’ll admit that the left side didn’t go up as high as the right side, but I still liked your smile.” She touched her fingertip to the corner of his mouth. “Smile for me again.”

He pressed his lips together.

She placed her thumbs on either side of his mouth and tugged up. He jerked back. “I can’t smile if I’m thinkin’ about it.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

She scooted back, skimmed her hand over the top of the pond, and sprayed him.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered.

She smiled mischievously. “Why?” She splashed water on him again.

“Because I said, that’s why.”

“Oh, I’m scared,” she teased as she spattered water at him again.

“You’re gonna be, if you don’t stop,” he threatened.

She laughed then, laughed loud and clear, the melodious sound echoing around the falls. He’d probably never know what overcame him, but he lunged for her, grabbed her waist, and carried her under the water.

When he brought her back up, her arms and legs were wrapped around him. She tossed the hair out of her eyes and laughed. “I’m still not scared.”

He couldn’t help himself. He added his laughter to hers as it floated on the breeze. Deep and strong. The sound shook him, and he fell silent.

Amelia touched his cheek. “You’ve never laughed,” she stated simply.

“Not as a man. Not that I can recall.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I find that incredibly sad.”

He moved her aside and pushed himself to his feet. “Time to get out and get warm.”

But he could still hear his laughter reverberating between the falls, and it was all he could do not to weep himself.