Four

The wedding took place early Saturday afternoon, exactly six days after Stoker and Houston had struck the deal. An hour before the ceremony, Houston dressed in the house he’d built for Becky but had never slept inside the walls. A group of ranch wives had volunteered to clean the dwelling that had sat empty for a year. The rooms now smelled fresh and all the cobwebs were gone. On Tuesday, he’d ridden over to talk to Tillman Boone. Though Houston hated being roped into a loveless marriage, he found the man cordial.

A widower, Till Boone was a big, barrel-chested man. Except for his ruddy complexion, he could’ve been Stoker’s brother. Tangling with him would be like wrestling a grizzly. Houston assumed—maybe wrongly—his bride would share Boone’s sandy-colored hair and brown eyes.

“Treat my Lara right and we’ll get along fine,” Boone had said, his dark eyes drilling into Houston. “You don’t, and I’ll be all over you like stink on a gut wagon. Her happiness is more important to me than my own. I won’t stand for anybody treating her as less than a lady. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir, I do. I’ll provide a home for her and the babe and always show her respect.” Houston had paused to stare into Boone’s eyes. “But don’t expect me to speak words of love.” They might as well get that straight from the start: love wasn’t part of the deal. Though Boone’s face had hardened, he’d nodded.

Upstairs in the new house where Houston would bring Lara following the ceremony, he drew on a clean work shirt and buttoned it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t wear the fancy suit he’d worn to his first wedding. He’d already instructed the preacher to strike the “love and cherish” part from the vows. Time would tell about “for better or worse.”

The mood he was in, he wouldn’t place any bets.

Houston tucked in his shirt and glanced around the bedroom at the things he’d moved from headquarters. The word for the space was modest—no frills, with just enough room to sleep. That’s all he’d need. When he’d built the house for Becky, he’d intended this to be their child’s room.

An ache filled his chest. He’d had such grand plans. He’d thought they’d live happily ever after. Then those dreams, the plans, the future had all come crashing down.

He winced, dragging himself from the painful thoughts. The dream of having his own child had vanished like smoke in mist. There would be no further children with Lara Boone. She and the baby would occupy the large bedroom and he’d stay here. He didn’t yet know their needs, but all she had to do was tell him. He’d see to their comfort.

As the only daughter in a houseful of boys, it stood to reason that Lara’s brothers and father had spoiled her. Houston had met the family the day he’d visited. At fourteen, her baby brother, Henry, spoke with a thick tongue, but he’d had a bright smile for Houston. He was slow but friendly.

The sixteen-year-old twins, Virgil and Quaid, had worn matching scowls and looked as though they wanted to shoot him. Clearly, they doted on their older sister, and Houston suspected they’d make him sorry if he failed to measure up.

Lara was the only one he hadn’t met that day. Houston had left with the disappointment of not knowing what she looked like. But he’d provide for her. He’d promised.

A man always kept his promises no matter how difficult it became.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Stoker entered the bedroom, wearing a vest and waistcoat that showed off his still-lean figure despite his fifty-nine years of living. “You about ready, son?”

“My tie is all I have left.” Houston lifted his western tie from the top of the dresser. “You look nice, Pa.”

“Just because this isn’t a normal wedding is no reason not to put on my best. Need help with that?”

“Nope, but I appreciate the offer.” Houston finished tying it, remembering how Sam had helped him with the ascot a year ago.

Stoker handed him an envelope. “I forgot to give this to you when you thought to wed Becky. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but Lara Boone may change your life for the better.”

Better than what—purgatory?

Houston took the envelope and removed a piece of parchment paper, recognizing his mother’s flowing script. A wedding letter no doubt, similar to the one Sam had received when he wed Sierra Hunt. A mist filled Houston’s eyes. He’d been only twelve when they’d buried Hannah Legend, and the loss still hurt.

Dear Son,

You came into this world scrawny and frail and I remember the moment I first held you in my arms. Although you were so tiny, I saw how fiercely you fought to live. You have the soul of a fighter, just like your namesake, and it won’t ever let you give up. I’ve watched you care for Sam and your staunch determination to guard your brother against hurts. As you take this woman to be your wife, I’m confident she’ll find a protector unlike any other. Love her, Houston, and allow her to love you back. Kiss her, wipe her tears and always make sure to soften your words.

Unable to read more, Houston carefully returned the letter to the envelope to finish later. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for keeping this all these years, Pa. It’s like she’s here, in a way.”

His father squeezed Houston’s shoulder. “I think she is here, and she’s been watching over you boys through the years.” He sat on the bed. “Got a telegram from Sam. He and Sierra send their best. They’d be here if they could. Luke would too, I’m sure.”

“It’s better to keep this small. Lara doesn’t need a bunch of gawking people. Me either.” Houston picked up his coat. “Let’s go.”

He might as well meet this stranger who was to be his wife, and prayed that she wouldn’t make his life hell. If she was kind, that’s all he’d ask and it would be enough.

* * *

Upstairs in one of the many bedrooms in the Legend house, Lara Boone tried to calm her mass of nerves. She stared at herself in the mirror, putting finishing touches to her hair, pulling it high and securing it with two combs. The rest of her mass of copper curls cascaded loosely down her back.

Her hands trembled. What would Houston do when he discovered what he’d gotten? It was a given that he’d be angry, that he’d feel cheated. Any man would. She was not only damaged goods but so broken inside that she didn’t know if she’d ever be whole again.

When he’d come calling earlier in the week, she’d peered at him through her bedroom curtains. His size had made her breath catch in her throat. He stood well over six feet and was hard muscle. How handsome he was, with hair the color of dark coffee beans. The deep lines around his mouth indicated a worrier. His bronze tan and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes said he spent a good deal of time outdoors. Probably squinted into the sun a lot.

Even from the distance at which she’d spied on him, she’d sensed anger in his movements. And who could blame him? She was furious as well, even though she knew it was best for her baby girl. Still, she felt like a piece of property to be sold to the highest bidder. She’d wanted to speak to him and explain that it wasn’t her idea, only her father wouldn’t let her. More than likely, Till Boone had been afraid she’d take pity on him and call off the marriage. The deal their fathers had made must grind as much on him as it did on her.

No one liked being forced into something.

Lara chewed her lip. It asked a lot of him to take on another man’s child and raise her as his own. Would Houston resent her?

From her father, she’d heard about the tragedy of his previous would-be wife, Becky, and how she’d gotten shot as she’d stood in front of the preacher. Houston must’ve loved her and her death must’ve devastated him. She couldn’t imagine what that would do to a person.

A knock sounded at the door and she opened it to her father.

“Are you ready, Lara? It’s time,” her father said.

“Help me with my veil, Papa?”

With a nod, he took the thick, white veil and put it over her head, pinning it snugly in her hair. She was grateful it hid her face, though Houston would be even angrier when he saw what had been kept from him.

“Your brothers have the baby. She’ll be fine until after the ceremony.” Her father took her hand, soothing her. “You’re like a chunk of ice, Lara girl. Don’t be so terrified. When the cards turned my way, it was providence. It’s all going to work out.”

“Is it? What’s going to happen after you all leave and I have to face Houston’s anger alone? He’s going to be furious,” she whispered miserably.

“If he lays a hand on you, he’ll answer to me.”

Lara had learned that anger came in many different forms—silence, coldness, yelling. Taking her forcibly. A man didn’t always have to hit.

She shot him a glare, then realized he couldn’t see her clearly through the veil. “And then what? One of you might end up dead. All because of me.” She couldn’t live with that on her conscience. She wasn’t worth men killing each other over. Her quick hand silenced a sob. “Promise me you won’t meddle in this marriage. Promise me, Papa.”

“I need to protect you,” Till protested.

“No. You’ve been heavy-handed enough. Because you gave the man little choice, I’ll have to repair the damage. The rest is up to me.” And Houston, she added silently. “I’ll make this marriage work.” Somehow.

“Fine. I’ll stay out of it for now, but I don’t like it one bit,” her father finally conceded. “We’d best go now.”

* * *

Unlike twelve months ago, this wedding would take place inside Legend headquarters. Houston turned at the whisper of fabric at the parlor door. Like him, the girl in the doorway wore nothing fancy. Just an everyday dress of Wedgwood blue, and oddly enough, a thick, white veil.

Besides the preacher, only Stoker, Boone, and Lara’s three brothers were in attendance. The twin named Virgil held the baby. Houston was grateful for his wife-to-be’s choice to keep this affair private. This marriage was certainly nothing to celebrate. For him it seemed more of a funeral, burying what was left of his hopes and dreams. From now on, he’d work from sunup to sundown. That would help the ranch and reduce the time he had to make conversation.

He also had the cattle drive that would take him away for months.

As Lara took her place beside him, Houston stared at the heavy veil that concealed her features. He hated that he couldn’t see her eyes. Eyes revealed what was in a person’s heart. He wondered what he’d see in hers. Was she happy, sad, indifferent?

The top of her head didn’t reach his chin and he could tell she was slender, a tiny little thing. He reached for her hand and found it icy and shaking. He realized she was scared to death.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “We’ll make this work.”

Lara didn’t reply. He heard her take in a deep breath as she faced the preacher, and it hit him—they’d forced her into this marriage also. She’d given up every dream she’d ever had, the night she’d been attacked. Before today, he’d thought only of himself. But it wasn’t just him and never was.

Houston relaxed his scowl before he scared her even worse.

The ceremony went quickly. He spoke the vows, then Houston slipped Lara’s mother’s ring on her finger. When that was done, the preacher asked him to kiss the bride to seal their union.

A peck on the cheek would suffice, he decided. She wouldn’t want a real kiss any more than he. Houston lifted the veil and his heart stopped.

Dear God!

A long scar ran down the right side of her face, marring what had once been true, delicate beauty.

Anger raced through him. No one had to tell him the rapist bore responsibility. How could any man do that? Something shifted inside him. Then and there he knew—he wouldn’t rest until he hunted down this animal and made him pay for what he’d done. He would avenge Lara the Legend way, fierce and lasting.

Surely the young woman carried great wounds, not only outwardly, but inside as well. Houston knew he had to choose his words carefully. What he said now would forever affect the rest of his life.

Lara’s eyes, the color of green stones at the bottom of a silent pool, met his in a challenge. Her chin tilted at a defiant angle at his hesitation.

He saw strength, determination, and something else…hope.

All of a sudden, he was glad Lara Boone belonged to him, and he to her. He would help her heal. And maybe somehow along the way, she could heal him too.

Houston bent his head and chose to kiss the cheek that was scarred, feeling the raised ridge under his lips. “You’re beautiful. I’m a very lucky man, Mrs. Legend.”

He allowed a smile, realizing the words sprang from his heart. He hadn’t lied.

“Thank you,” she whispered, gratitude sparkling in her eyes.

As soon as he lifted his head, Stoker wormed in, moving Houston aside. “Come here, daughter,” he boomed, drawing her into a hug. “Welcome to the family. You’re like a warm ray of sunshine after a cold spell. You’re going to brighten up this place.”

When Lara shot Houston a nervous glance, he winked, realizing she’d never met Stoker either. His father could be intimidating, but he was glad Stoker had risen to the occasion as only he could.

Abruptly, Stoker shifted, meeting Till Boone’s eyes. Houston watched his father-in-law nod. He took that to mean they’d squared the deal. The land went back to them.

Lara’s gaze took in both Legend men. “You’re all so nice. Thank you for making me feel…welcome. I didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

Stoker patted her hand. “We think you’re a very beautiful, very exceptional young lady and we’re proud to have you in this family. You’ll bring a level of grace and dignity that I’ve long missed. I want you to call me Stoker.”

Before she could reply, her brothers gathered around. Virgil handed her the baby. Houston watched how she tenderly gathered the child and hugged her to her chest. Such a pretty little angel. As Houston noted her reddish-blond curls and big, blue eyes, a fierce protectiveness wound through him. She would never learn the circumstance of her birth, and he pitied anyone who hurt her. This child of his would be loved and always wanted. He briefly wondered about the babe’s name and decided to ask at the first opportunity.

Houston reached out with a hesitant finger to touch a golden curl the texture of corn silk.

“Would you like to hold Gracie?” Lara asked softly. “She won’t break.”

He wasn’t so sure about that; she looked so small and delicate. Before he could decline, Lara transferred the child to his arms. He was amazed at how light she was. A sack of meal probably weighed more. Gracie gave a soft sigh and snuggled against him. Houston gazed down at her, this little person who now bore his name.

Gracie Legend.

As the babe stared up at him with her bright eyes, her hand closed around his finger and a smile curved her small, bow mouth. She looked like a little angel.

His vision blurred and a lump filled his throat.

He was a father.

Suddenly, the gold fields of California, the Pacific Ocean, the dream of being free to live as he desired all disappeared.

Though they’d come into this marriage very differently than most couples, they would be a family. He’d see to it. Lara and his new little angel needed him.