Eleven

A twisting, rushing current greeted Houston upon reaching the mighty Red the following morning. He pushed back his Stetson and surveyed the river. The Appaloosa stamped his feet impatiently.

“She’ll give us a tussle,” Clay said, wiping his face with his neckerchief. “But we should cross it here just fine.”

Houston grunted. “I agree. This is the shallowest part.”

He wasn’t worried about the cattle or the men that much. The ones that concerned him most were Lara, Gracie, and Henry. Even though Lara had reminded him again that very morning that she was just one of the drovers, try convincing his heart.

Small chance.

She was his partner. His friend.

Hope lodged in his heart that they could heal and grow into this marriage. One thing about him—when he’d decided to take her for a wife, it had been for keeps. There were no half measures either. Despite his past problems, he couldn’t ask her to trust him without being committed.

Maybe he could still give her a happy life without letting her into his heart…and without being allowed into hers in return.

The feel of her slightly parted lips against his still burned in his memory, along with the fragrance of roses that had wafted around his head, making her impossible to forget. Despite being dog-tired, when he’d crawled into his bedroll in the wee hours, sleep had evaded him. Trying to figure out how to act around her was making him crazy. How could he touch her without frightening her to death? What could he say that would put her at ease? When would this awkward stage pass?

“Let’s get these snot-slinging bunch of dogies across, Clay,” Houston said, dragging his thoughts to the job at hand. “I want to help Lara during the crossing, so the biggest portion of this will fall on you.”

Clay shot him a glance out of his good eye, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’m up for the job.”

“Sort of figured that out a while ago,” Houston answered softly. “Thanks for never bellyaching. You’re a good man, Clay.”

“Always figured complainin’ was a pure waste of time.” Clay’s grin spread. “Besides, I need all the air I can get for breathing.”

Virgil Boone rode over to them. “Houston, any special instructions?”

Houston eyed the kid. “Don’t get killed.”

“I don’t plan to. Anything else?”

“Keep an eye on your brothers. Help them if they need it.” Still the kid stayed, as though he wanted to say something. Houston waited.

Finally, Virgil spoke. “You’ll look after my sister?”

There it was. The worried look in Virgil’s eyes hurt Houston’s heart. Lara was precious to countless people and he doubted she knew exactly to what lengths they’d go to protect her. Guilt was a hard thing to handle, and the Boone boys had it in spades.

“Count on it, Virgil.” Houston tugged his hat lower to hide the unease that must show in his face. Whatever, whoever, sought to steal her would have the fight of his life on his hands.

Lara Legend had him to stand beside her in sickness, in health…and in crossing this dang river.

* * *

The water rose higher and higher. Lara gripped the reins, trying to remain calm and let the team feel her confidence. She could do this. She had to.

Houston rode beside the wagon, adding a level of security. He’d wanted to tie the Appaloosa to the back and drive, but she refused to relinquish the reins.

This was her job and she needed to do it—for her self-worth, her need to prove she could, and for her baby girl. Lara had to show Gracie that she should be strong and not wait around for someone to always get her out of difficult situations. Being independent was crucial for a woman in this wild land.

On the plains, a woman needed good wits about her.

Now, as they began to cross the mighty Red, she found herself grateful that Houston hadn’t gotten angry and ridden off. Having him near was a comfort. One thing she knew—if anything should happen and she couldn’t figure out a way past it, her husband would make it right again. He could fix almost anything.

Lara glanced at his rugged profile: the squared shoulders, the set jaw and the hard lines of his face that now seemed carved in granite. Never before had she known a man like Houston. Why hadn’t she met him before that horrible night when the world stopped turning and she had prayed to die?

Back when she could’ve loved a man.

She gritted her teeth and brought her attention to a task she could do something about.

New buoyancy told her when the horses started swimming, and the floating chuck wagon followed behind. Slow and steady. Relieved that everything was going well, she took a deep breath and relaxed her hold on the reins.

“You’re almost there,” Houston called. “I’m proud of you. You’re gonna make it.”

His praise sent a happy glow through her. She gave him a smile. Just a little more and she’d have the river behind her. They floated slowly toward the bank where her brothers all stood.

“You’re one tough lady,” Houston said, riding beside her. “In fact, I’d say you’re a match for your Margaret Heffernan Borland.”

The kindness in his deep voice seeped into her bones. Never had anyone shown such gentle caring, not even her papa and brothers who had nursed her back from near death.

“You’re not still doubting my abilities?” she asked.

“Nope.”

The hard edges Houston Legend wore were deceptive. He could be kind and gentle and encouraging. He could even be sweet.

However, something told her that for anyone who harmed his family or men, he would be someone to fear.

After seeing the chuck wagon safely on dry land, he turned his attention to the others. Her gaze followed Houston’s tall, muscular form. She loved watching him work. Confidence oozed from him. Though she was still learning his ways, she hadn’t seen any task he hadn’t measured up to. Even marry a woman he didn’t know to give her child a name. Sharp pain filled her. He’d given up everything for her and Gracie. And now he wanted to go after Yuma Blackstone.

Fear froze the blood in her veins. When he caught up with the man—and she knew it was only a matter of time—one of them would die.

She took Gracie from Henry and absently fingered her reddish-blond curls. They both needed the man who had just come into their life. The fear riding inside her like the black shadow of a vulture sharpened the brittle hardness that had formed during her recovery. If Yuma put Houston into a grave, she’d go after him herself—and deliver the vengeance that burned inside her like the fiery pit of hell. Except then it would be exacting retribution for two murders—one for Houston and one for the death of her spirit and self-worth.

Yes, Yuma Blackstone would pay. But at whose hand was the question.

Henry propped himself beside her. “I was scared. Were you scared, Lara?”

“No, Henry. Water is nothing to be afraid of. Remember that Virgil and Papa taught you to swim. Do you recall that?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned. “I can swim like a doggie.”

“That’s right. Besides, with all of us near, you’ll never have to be afraid.” She just prayed her brother would always have someone near to save him. Lara hugged his arm. “Thank you for taking such good care of Gracie.”

“I didn’t want the river to get her.”

“You’re a good uncle to the baby.”

“An uncle?”

“Yes, you’re her uncle. Remember?”

“But I’m the brother.”

“No, honey,” Lara corrected in a gentle tone. “You’re my brother but you’re Gracie’s uncle.”

“Who’s her daddy? Can I be the daddy?”

The question caught Lara off guard. She’d cut out her tongue before she spoke Yuma’s name.

“Houston is her papa.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” Henry grinned then turned to watch the men. “I’m hungry. Can I eat?”

“Not yet. Soon, though.”

Gracie looked up at her and babbled something. The child was so pleasant and hardly ever cried. Lara prayed she would grow into a beautiful, caring woman. All Gracie needed was a chance. “Yes, sweetie,” Lara crooned and kissed a dirt-streaked cheek. “Whatever you said is right. I love you too.”

She imagined Gracie was getting hungry. Dismay filled her. She didn’t want to nurse her in front of the men—she’d never even fed Gracie in front of her brothers. Hopefully she could have some privacy before they started moving again. If not, she didn’t know what she’d do.

Houston rode over. “It’ll take a while to get all these cattle across. Stretch your legs if you want.” He leaned to touch Gracie’s chubby cheek, his gaze meeting Lara’s. “I imagine she’s getting hungry. I’ll rig up something so you can feed her in private before we roll out.”

That he clearly guessed Lara’s dilemma astounded her. He didn’t miss anything. “Thank you, Houston. I didn’t want to ask.”

He leaned back in the saddle. “What kind of man would I be to leave you exposed to curious stares?” he asked softly. “You can always ask me anything. You know I’ll move heaven and earth for you, Lara.”

“I know.” Sudden tears sprang into her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Hush with that nonsense. You deserve a good deal more than my feeble efforts,” he murmured low. His words seemed to have a double meaning, almost as though he apologized for not loving her.

Some kind of private message wafted between them. Frustration rose that she was too dumb to read it.

“I’m hungry too,” Henry announced loudly, breaking the spell.

Houston swung his attention to him. “Well, I can’t have my cook’s helper being hungry.” Houston dismounted. “Let’s see what we can find in the back of that wagon.”

Houston climbed up and they disappeared through the opening.

Lara’s heart swelled for the tall man and the boy full of hero worship who yearned to be just like him. Houston didn’t know it, but he’d already made such a difference in all their lives.

And the quickening inside her was getting stronger and stronger.

A few minutes later, Henry crawled from the back, munching on a cold biscuit and a piece of jerky, saying he was going to watch Virgil and Quaid with the cattle. She warned him to stay out of the way.

“Lara, I made a place for you.” Houston reached for Gracie.

Surprise washed over her when she saw the cozy place he’d prepared. He’d moved the large barrels of flour and sugar to one side and had made her a low stool from a crate to sit on. A folded bedroll lay on the floor of the wagon for Gracie when she napped.

“This is perfect. Thank you.” She gazed into his face, wishing she was bold enough to smooth away the deep lines that bracketed his mouth. Maybe one day when she knew him better and the pain of losing the woman he loved wasn’t so strong, she could touch this man she’d married and he’d not wish she was Becky.

“I also have this curtain of sorts you can pull across once I’m out.” He showed her the piece of burlap he’d tacked up.

“You’ve thought of everything.” The private little space was all Lara needed and Houston had fixed it up just for her. A pleasant warmth stole over her. But her insistence that she was one of the drovers crossed her mind. He was already treating her differently. She placed a hand on his broad chest, trying not to notice the beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Now go. You have your men and the cattle to see about. Gracie and I are fine.”

Hearing her name, the baby girl began to babble excitedly.

Houston laughed. “One day Angel is going to lay down the law to both of us and in a language we’ll have no problem understanding.”

“I expect so.”

Still Houston stood as though needing to say more.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked.

“Lara, don’t walk on eggshells around me. I’m not going to get mad or start hollering if you say or do things. This marriage is only going to work if we relax and be ourselves.” Houston touched her cheek with a finger. “I’m not an easy man to live with. I know that. Sometimes I might forget to soften my voice. But it won’t mean anything against you.” He released a deep sigh. “I have far too much of Stoker in me and that’s a fact.”

She took Gracie from him. “I understand what you’re saying. Trying too hard is just as bad or worse than not trying hard enough. I’m going to be a work in progress, though.”

“All this is going to take time.”

Lara just wondered if their life together would always be crowded with Becky’s ghost. Or would Houston one day see Lara instead of the woman he wished she was?

“I’m glad we’re having this conversation,” Lara said. “I need to get something off my mind. Let’s make a vow that if either of us wants out of this marriage, we can leave with no questions asked.”

He jerked in surprise. His voice was quiet. “Is that what you want, Lara? Do you wish to go back to your father?”

“No.” She was only giving him a way out if he grew to find her too lacking. “I like being here away from the memories. I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too.” He appeared relieved that she wasn’t asking out of the marriage.

Or had she only imagined that?

Saying he needed to see to things, he left. Lara watched him through the canvas opening, admiring his lean figure and broad shoulders. He swung into the saddle as easily as stepping from bed and rode to help his men.

She would never leave him. Somehow, unexpectedly, he was becoming her life and this was starting to be her home.