Lorraine Heath (17 page)

“Did you know that Houston was breeding the mustangs?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. He told me. When he needs help, he lets me help him.”

“Dallas never helps him?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Dallas ain’t never even been out to Houston’s place. When he needs Houston, he just sends me out there to fetch him.”

“Why?”

“I reckon ’cuz he needs to talk to him.”

Amelia smiled at the boy’s innocence, an innocence that was belied by the revolver he wore strapped to his thigh. She wasn’t certain if she’d ever grow accustomed to the abundance of guns and the ease with which young men carried them. “No, I mean why doesn’t Dallas go out there?”

Austin shrugged. “Busy, I guess. Least that’s what Houston says. Sometimes I think it bothers him that Dallas ain’t never been out there. I asked him about it once. He said Dallas has empires to build. He’s got no time for the little things, but visiting family don’t seem like a little thing to me. But I’m just a kid, so what do I know?”

She placed her hand on his arm. “I think you’re very close to being a man, and I think you know a lot. Could you take me to Houston’s place?”

“Sure could. It’s just two whoops and a holler away. As soon as the sun finishes coming up, we’ll head out. If you won’t tell Dallas, I’ll show you what the sun sounds like when it’s coming up.”

“Why would he mind?” she asked, taking her hand off his arm.

He lifted a shoulder. “Cookie is a fiddle player, and he taught me to play some songs. Dallas don’t mind those. But I hear songs … Dallas says they ain’t manly so I just play ’em when he’s not around. Since he ain’t here, you want to hear the one that I think sounds like a sunrise?”

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and settled against the beam. “I’d like to hear it very much.”

Austin shifted his backside on the porch, brought one leg up and stretched the other one out. He slipped the rounded end of the violin beneath his chin and picked up the bow. He pointed the bow toward the far horizon. “Watch the sunrise.”

Amelia turned her attention to the distance, but as soon as she heard the first low strain of music, her attention drifted back to the boy sitting on the porch with her. He’d closed his eyes and swayed slightly in rhythm to the music he created. The music rose softly in pitch just as the sun did. She could see the sunrise without watching it, could feel its warmth without touching it, could sense its power as it brought light to the land.

How could Dallas not encourage the boy to expand on his gift? If he played this beautifully after taking lessons from a cook, she couldn’t imagine how well he would play if he had proper lessons. Dallas Leigh needed more than a wife. He needed someone who could teach him that life was composed of more than hard work.

The music drifted into a hushed whisper. Austin opened his eyes, tears shimmering within the incredible blue depths.

“That was beautiful,” Amelia said softly.

Austin sniffed and blinked until the tears disappeared. “Dawn is my favorite time of day, but I got a song for the sunset, and for all the seasons. They just sorta come to me. Like yesterday, when I saw you for the first time, a song just went into my head, but I ain’t had a chance to try it out yet.”

“I’d like to hear it when you’re ready to play it for me.”

He smiled broadly. “I’ll do that, as long as Dallas is off with the men.” He stood and tucked the violin beneath his arm. “You ready to head out to Houston’s place?”

She tried not to appear too eager as she stood, but the truth was: She couldn’t wait to see Houston again.

He was standing on the front porch of a small log cabin, his left shoulder pressed against the beam, his gaze focused on the horses milling around in the corral. He wore no hat, and the wind blew through his black hair much as it blew through Amelia’s blond tresses. She’d worn her hair pulled back, a strip of cloth keeping most of it in place, but much of it had worked itself free.

“Maybe we should yell so he’ll know we’re coming in,” Amelia suggested, anxious to have him turn and see her, wondering if he would be as pleased to see her as she was to see him.

“Won’t do no good. He can’t hear from that side,” Austin said.

Stunned, Amelia stared at Austin. “He’s deaf?”

“Only on the left side. When he was wounded during the war, he lost his sight and hearing on that one side. Always figured that was why he sat with his right side to us, since his hearing ain’t so good.”

Austin’s reasoning made sense, but Amelia didn’t think it was correct. Near the end of their journey, Houston had never turned his face away from her. But she had whispered her heartfelt endearment near his left ear. She realized now that he hadn’t been ignoring her. He simply hadn’t heard her words, although she now understood that his hearing them would not have altered the journey’s end.

As they neared, Houston turned slightly and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. The morning was cool, but he wore no duster or hat. She was certain he’d expected no company.

“What brings you out?” he asked as he stepped off the porch.

“Dallas took the men to the south. He told me to watch Amelia. She wanted to see your place,” Austin said as he dismounted.

“Oh, she did, did she?” Houston asked, his lip curved up slightly on one side as he placed his hands on her waist and helped her dismount.

The warmth of his touch shot clear down to her toes. His hands lingered, his fingers flexing as though he knew he should let her go, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. She wanted to step forward, lean against him, and feel his arms close around her.

As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head slightly and stepped away from her. “Not much to see. House, corral, shed. Nothing fancy.”

“A woman doesn’t always need fancy,” Amelia said softly.

“But she should have it just the same.”

“You gonna let Amelia watch when a stallion mounts a mare?” Austin asked.

Houston turned swiftly to grab Austin. Austin ducked just as quickly, backing off, his fingers splayed before him. “What’d I do now?”

“You don’t talk breeding around a lady,” Houston said, his voice low.

“Makes no sense. You can’t say nothin’ around a lady. What’s the point in sharing your life with her if you can’t speak what’s on your mind?”

“I’m not gonna marry her and neither are you. And you need to call her Miss Carson.”

“Why? Dallas told me last night that she’ll be my sister by marriage. I wouldn’t call my sister Miss Leigh.”

Houston reached to pull down a hat that wasn’t on his head. Then he spun around and faced Amelia. “What do you want him to call you?”

“I’m hoping Austin will come to think of me as a sister so I’d truly prefer for him to call me Amelia.”

“Fine.” He waved his hand in the air. “Fine. Call her Amelia.”

Austin released a whoop. “Hot diggity damn! That’s the first time I’ve won an argument!”

Houston pointed his finger at his brother. “No swearing!”

Wearing a broad smile, Austin raised his palms as though warding off an attack. “I just forgot. Won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t,” Houston mumbled.

“Can I ride Black Thunder to the bluff and back?” Austin asked.

“Black Thunder?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah, he’s over here,” Austin said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a distant corral, leading their horses behind him. “He ain’t gelded, so Houston has to keep him apart from the mares.”

The black stallion threw his head back and trotted around the enclosure. In a separate enclosure nearby, the palomino stallion whinnied.

“He’s beautiful,” Amelia whispered. The horse’s black coat shimmered in the morning sun.

“I named him,” Austin said.

“Why Black Thunder?” she asked.

“Because he runs so fast and so hard that he sounds like thunder rolling over the plains.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ain’t that right, Houston?”

Reluctantly, Houston had followed them over, cursing himself for wanting to see Amelia’s face when she caught sight of the stallion. He’d never given much thought to raising horses until he’d seen this black stallion on a rise. He’d pursued him for two years, wondered at times if he was a phantom, a horse of legend … until he’d captured him with Austin’s help. He hadn’t had a mare worthy of the black stallion until now.

Until Amelia had convinced him to pursue the palomino’s herd. He’d carefully made his selections, choosing the mares that would service his black stallion.

“Yep, he’s fast, but he’s not saddle broke,” Houston said.

“I love ridin’ him bareback,” Austin said, rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “I can feel his power, his strength … Please? Amelia can wait here. I won’t be long. Just a short fast ride.”

Houston felt as though he was trapped between a stampeding herd and a huge abyss. What he wanted and what he knew was right were warring. Amelia looked at him, her green, green eyes filled with hope, and he couldn’t say no, couldn’t send her on her way, even though he knew it was best.

“Just don’t be gone too long,” Houston said, gruffly, offering himself a compromise.

“I won’t,” Austin assured him. He handed the reins of his horse and Amelia’s horse over to Houston, grabbed the hackamore bridle off a post, and slipped through the railings.

The horse snorted and pranced. Amelia sidled up against Houston. “He’s black. Isn’t he dangerous?”

“All horses are dangerous if you don’t handle them right, but he’s not mean spirited.”

She smiled as Austin slipped the bridle over the horse’s snout, wrapped his fingers in the long black mane, and threw himself over the horse. The horse bucked once, and Austin hollered, his smile brighter than the noonday sun.

Houston pulled back the gate, and the horse with rider sprang forth, churning up the dirt as they headed out. Houston slapped Austin and Amelia’s mounts, urging them into the empty corral. He closed the gate.

“I was thinking about working with the mare today. Need to get over to the other corral so she can start getting used to my scent again.”

“Can I come with you?”

Houston nodded. He walked to the corral, Amelia at his side. Sweet Lord, it felt right to have her there with him, to smell her scent, to see her shadow touching his. He crossed his arms over the top railing, and the horses scattered to the far side of the corral.

“They don’t trust us yet,” she said quietly.

He thought now might be a good time to make sure the woman understood there was no “us,” would never be an “us.” But the morning was peaceful, the breeze slight, and she looked so pretty standing beside him watching the horses that she’d helped him capture.

He should have explained to Austin why a man would want a woman in his life. It had little to do with the physical release his body craved. It had everything to do with every memory he had of her from the moment she’d first stepped off the train in Fort Worth until he’d watched Dallas kiss her last night. It had to do with the softness of her voice, the way she believed in him when no one else ever had.

“They’ll get used to us again in time,” he said.

She turned her attention away from the horses, her delicate brows drawn together in a furrow. “Why didn’t you tell Dallas that you were breeding mustangs?”

He averted his gaze, deciding it was easier to watch the horses than her. “I might not have any success at it. Dallas has seen enough of my failures.”

“Such as?”

“You don’t want to know.” “I don’t want to know or you don’t want to tell me?” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“You don’t trust me,” she said simply. “You’re like the mustangs. You don’t trust easily.”

“Look what happened when they finally decided to trust us. We betrayed them.”

“And you think I’ll betray you?”

“No,” he said, unable to stop the ragged edge in his voice. “I think you’ll hate me.”