Five

The magnitude of Houston’s situation suddenly overwhelmed him. Unable to speak, he handed the baby to Lara and went in search of a strong drink. Though a couple of ranch wives were serving punch in the dining room, that wouldn’t numb the panic and fear crawling up his spine. This called for hard liquor.

Outside in the hallway, he found himself blocked by Lara’s kid brother Henry. The fourteen-year-old stepped in front of him and shook his finger under Houston’s nose.

“Be nice,” Henry warned. “If you ain’t nice, I’ll give you a black eye.”

Seeing as how his young accoster would have to stand on tiptoe to do it made the situation border on the ridiculous. The whole thing would’ve been comical if not for the glisten of tears in Henry’s eyes and his quivering lip.

“What are you talking about, kid?”

“My sister. A man hurt her and gave her a baby. If you give her a baby, you’ll be mean too.” Henry stuck up both fists. “I ain’t a-scared o’ you. I’ll black your eye.”

“I can see how protective you are of your sister,” Houston said calmly, wanting to reassure the boy. He wouldn’t give Lara a baby because they wouldn’t be sleeping together, but there was no way Henry would understand that. “She’s lucky to have you stick up for her. I won’t ever be mean to Lara. How about you and me getting some punch to wet our whistles?”

Henry shrugged and dropped his fists. “Okay.”

Just like that, the anger and their impending tussle was forgotten. Houston draped his arm across Henry’s shoulders. “Do you know that I once drank a whole bowl of punch?”

“Wow! Really?” Henry’s brown eyes grew as round as saucers.

“Yep. My brother Sam dared me, so I had to do it.” Houston grinned, remembering the outdoor party so long ago. “And you know what else?”

“Nope.”

“It made me sick. I had to run behind a tree and throw up.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Sure did. My pa sent me to bed. Without supper.” He hadn’t been in any shape to eat it anyway, but he had to make it dramatic for Henry’s sake. “And you know what else?”

The boy shook his head.

“I dared my brother to kiss a horned toad.”

“Ewww! Did he?”

“Yep. And it spit blood in his eye.” Houston grinned. That had felt real good. It was the last time he’d gotten payback for something over Sam.

They reached the table with pies and cakes laid out on one end and a big punch bowl on the other. He stared longingly at the liquor cabinet standing against the wall, but he sighed and dipped Henry a glass of the sweet, red liquid that still made his stomach queasy. Then he filled a glass for himself.

Henry took a big drink and burped. “I think I like you.”

“I’m glad we’re friends. I would’ve hated to have you black my eye. You’ve got a wicked-looking fist there.” Houston noticed the other two brothers, the twins, striding through the door and making a beeline for him. He wondered if a glass of punch would work for them too. It didn’t look it.

“A private word, Legend.” Virgil Boone’s clipped request sounded more like an order.

“We can talk in the office.” Houston set down his glass and led the way.

When Henry tried to follow, the other twin, Quaid, stopped him. “Go back, Henry. This is man business.”

“I’m a man.” The boy stuck out his chin. “Mr. Houston already told me he would be nice.”

“That’s good. But I think I hear Pa calling you,” Quaid answered. “Best go see what he wants.”

“Oh, all right.” Henry trudged off.

Houston opened the door of the study and ushered the Boone boys inside. “What can I help you with?”

“This won’t take long,” Virgil said.

“Care to sit?” Houston motioned to the sofa and chairs.

“We’ll stand.” Virgil’s gaze scanned the room, lingering on the bookshelves lining the walls. Unless Houston missed his guess, the boy liked to read.

“Suit yourselves.” Houston took the chair behind the mahogany desk. “What’s this about? I’ve already had your father and Henry lay down the law. I’m guessing it’s your turn?”

Virgil glanced at Quaid before answering. “Lara’s our only sister and she’s been hurt real bad. We mean to make sure it doesn’t happen again. We know our pa had you over a barrel or you never would’ve married Lara.”

“You’re probably pretty mad,” Quaid threw in.

“We just want you to know that we’re gonna watch you,” Virgil finished. “Make Lara cry, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

Houston held up his hand. “I understand that my wife is your sister and Gracie your niece, but I’m not an ogre,” he said gently. “I’ll work hard to keep Lara happy. I’ll protect her and the child. With my very life if necessary.”

“That’s not all we wanted to say.” Virgil lowered his voice. He was mostly grown, it looked like, and stood almost as tall as Houston. “Don’t let down your guard. The guy is still out there somewhere and he’s gonna come to finish the job. He’s threatened before that he intends to kill her. Gracie too. He’s as mean as they come. I wounded him that night but he managed to get away. Pa lit out after him but lost the bastard in the brush. We’ve been looking ever since.”

Anger charged through Houston. “What’s his name?”

“Pa hired him on for a while at the ranch when we were short. Calls himself Yuma Blackstone,” Virgil answered. “It’s a fake name or I’m a porcupine.”

Probably so. Men on the run from something often hid in plain sight by taking on new names. Houston would do some digging. Something told him he wasn’t going to like what he found.

“What does Blackstone look like?” Houston’s voice was stone-cold and as sharp as flint. He’d kill the man with his bare hands for what he’d done.

“He keeps his head shaved bald but he can’t be that old. I’d put him late twenties. Has a thin mustache and missing half of his left ear. Heard a rumor someone shot it off. Has real strange eyes that make you shiver. Almost white, kinda silvery-like.” Virgil gave his strawberry-blond hair an impatient toss when a strand fell near his eye. “Fancies himself a ladies’ man and was always twirling one of his twin pearl-handled pistols like he was itching to use it. Our ranch hands steered clear of him.”

“Those eyes of his gave me the creeps,” Quaid added quietly. “When the light shone on them just right, I thought he could see inside me.”

Houston filed away the description. He’d have no trouble recognizing someone like that. Big egos always tripped up men like Yuma Blackstone, and it sounded like he had a huge one. Besides, Houston had an ace in the hole, with a former Texas Ranger for a little brother. They’d find Blackstone, and when they did…

“Thanks for telling me.” Houston liked Lara’s brothers. Virgil would be someone Houston would love to have next to him in a fight. He sensed this tall brother would never back away from trouble.

“Least we could do,” Quaid said. “Seeing as how we can’t protect our sister now.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt her again,” Houston promised. “You can count on that. Are any of you married?”

“Naw,” Quaid drawled. “We’re waitin’ for the right girls. ’Sides, we gotta finish growin’.”

Houston smothered a grin with his hand. If the boy grew much more, he’d have to go through doors sideways. “Don’t wait too long. Not many girls around here.”

Virgil gave a solemn nod. “Pickin’s are a mite slim.”

“I don’t know. They’re around if you look hard enough. I’ve got to get back to Lara,” Houston said. “Make yourselves at home, boys. You’re welcome on the Lone Star anytime.”

Stepping from the office, he heard lowered voices in the room across the hall. One belonged to Stoker. He guessed the other to be Till Boone. He would have kept going, but the next words he overheard held him tight.

“Lara seems to accept the situation,” Till said. “She doesn’t suspect a thing. How about your boy?”

“Our plan worked, Till,” Stoker said. “Houston was madder than a bull culled from the heifers at first, but I saw his face when he got a glimpse of Lara. He’s going to do right by her. I hated having to make him think I’d gambled away our land, but he didn’t leave me much choice. He was wasting away, a shell of who he once was. I couldn’t let him destroy himself.”

“My Lara wouldn’t have agreed either,” Boone said low. “She’s a proud woman, like her mother.”

Hell and be damned!

Stoker had manipulated him like a puppet on a string. Houston had half a mind to barge in on the two meddling matchmakers and wring their necks.

Except the memory of Lara’s horrible scar and a babe’s tiny fingers curling around his stopped him.

Maybe there were worse things to have happen.

Let these two think they’d put one over on Lara and him. But this was the last damn time.

Something deep inside tugged against his heart. No matter how it had happened, he was theirs now and they were his, and he wouldn’t go back on his word for anything.

* * *

Lara glanced up when Houston slipped back into the parlor. It hadn’t taken much to put two and two together after her brothers had gone out right behind her new husband. Her heart warmed that they still felt the need to protect her, even though at twenty-one she was very much the oldest. If not for them, she’d have gone crazy after that horrible night. Despite their age, they’d stepped up, even taken turns helping her care for Gracie after she was born.

But now she had a husband and, except for that slight hesitation when he’d lifted her veil and stared in shock, he seemed to accept her appearance. The anger she’d expected hadn’t shown.

At least not yet. But what would happen when they were alone?

Lara raised her chin. She’d bow down to no man. And no one would ever force her to do anything against her will, ever again. Not even her new husband, the towering Houston Legend, who was probably very accustomed to getting his way.

He strode toward her with confidence, his body radiating strength, and she knew he would have no trouble dealing with men like Yuma Blackstone. And yet something told Lara he would never hurt her. She stilled her rapid heartbeat, the thunder that sent blood pumping through her veins. Her husband appeared ten times the man of any she’d known…except for her father.

But would he truly be kind to her when no one was around? That remained to be seen.

“You getting tired, Lara?” he asked when he reached her side.

She hadn’t realized how much until now, and the starch seemed to go out of her at his question. But then, worry had kept her awake all night. A clock somewhere in the Legend house chimed four o’clock. It was time to see the place that was now her home.

“Yes. And Gracie needs to lie down. The poor thing is exhausted from all the excitement.”

Houston followed her gaze. The seven-month-old had crawled into a corner, curled up, and was sucking her thumb. He walked over and picked her up then sauntered back. Lara’s chest tightened. There was something special about a hard man like Houston gently holding her baby in the crook of one muscular arm.

“Let’s get you both home.” He put an arm around her waist and they moved to the door.

Lara loved the protective weight of his arm as they escaped the white-stone headquarters, the walls that glistened in the afternoon sun. She paused for a moment, staring up at the Texas flag fluttering in the breeze.

She bore a kinship with that flag. Both sometimes got ragged and torn, but somehow they bravely kept flying.

“Are you all right?” Houston asked.

“Just thinking.” She turned and they strolled past the businesses. “I’d heard your family built a small town here, but I thought it had to be a joke.”

Houston chuckled. “No one was pulling your leg. Except for a few items, we have most everything a person needs.”

His deep voice seemed to vibrate through her, and she found it very pleasant.

“I’m sure you’re wondering where our house is,” he said.

“A little,” Lara admitted as they walked down a path.

He pointed to a two-story, whitewashed clapboard straight ahead. She liked the small house. It looked comfortable, but one never knew until they tested the fit.

“No one’s ever lived in it.” His words were clipped.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks as reality hit and she remembered Becky Golden. He’d loved her, and he’d built this house for her.

“I’m sorry, Houston. Today must’ve taken a huge toll on you. I can’t imagine how hard it was. And to be saddled with an utter stranger to boot. For what it’s worth, I begged Papa to find another way.” She struggled to say the right words. “When I was younger, I hated to see signs of spring each year, because my father would line us kids up, hold our noses, and give us each a big dose of castor oil.”

Till and Stoker had done the exact same thing to Houston—forced his mouth wide and shoved a double dose of castor oil down his throat. Then held his nose until he swallowed.

“It wasn’t right forcing you into this, forcing us both.” When he didn’t say anything, Lara’s stomach clenched. She mounted the steps leading to the entrance of the house the two strangers would share. He held the door for her and, with Gracie still nestled asleep in the crook of his arm, he ushered her inside.

The coolness of the downstairs rooms welcomed her as she slowly turned, taking it all in. The small parlor that opened to the right off the entryway had large windows that allowed light to flood in, but it had no furniture save for a sofa.

“I haven’t had time to furnish the house yet,” Houston murmured. “A year ago, I didn’t expect to ever live here. In fact, I tried to set fire to it. Stoker stopped me.” Pain made his voice sound tight.

“Please, don’t apologize. Whatever we have is fine.” She’d vowed he wouldn’t see her as needy and she meant to keep to that.

“All the same, you deserve better.”

“Houston, I didn’t expect you to have everything in place,” she said softly. The urge to rest her hand on his muscle-corded arm was almost more than she could resist. She turned to retrace her steps back into the entryway before she gave in to the impulse.

He followed. “I want to make it plain that this house is yours. Buy whatever you need. Browse through the catalogs in the mercantile and order whatever you see fit. Or we could take a trip to Fort Worth after I return from driving a herd of longhorns north to Dodge City. I probably should’ve mentioned that I’ll leave as soon as possible.”

Her swift whirl was a mistake and sent Lara into the hard wall of Houston’s chest. She stared up into his coffee-colored eyes. Heat crept up the back of her neck as she took a step back from the mass of solid muscle and power.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do…” Unsure of what to say exactly, she left the sentence unfinished. “You surprised me. Isn’t May too late to take cattle north?”

“Probably,” Houston admitted. “If I had a choice, I’d wait until next spring. But I don’t. How do you know about cattle drives? It’s not a subject most women care to discuss.”

Lara smiled. “You’re forgetting I grew up in a man’s household. It’s all my brothers talk about. Virgil and Quaid begged Father to let them join one of the cattle drives going through here, but he wouldn’t relent.”

She wandered across the hall into the dining room and gave a soft cry. The room was bright and cheery, with a curved bay window along the west wall. It would be perfect for catching the sunset in the evenings. The dining table and chairs were of beautiful mahogany and shone in the light. “I love this room,” Lara exclaimed. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Houston stood so close behind her she felt his breath ruffling her hair. “It’s the one room I took pains with.”

“Well, you did a wonderful job. Houston, I wasn’t trying to second-guess your decision with the cattle, or tell you what to do.”

“Never thought you were.” He took her shoulder and turned her to face him. “You’re a breath of fresh air. I’m pleased to have you take an interest in ranching and glad I can talk to you.”

Lara searched his gaze and knew he was sincere. “I’m relieved that I didn’t overstep my bounds.”

“I set no boundaries. I always want your opinions. The only reason I would start out now is that we’re already right here on the Red River, so we have a huge advantage. Snow doesn’t generally start flying until December or January. We’ll be back by late September.”

For some reason, the idea of him being gone so long filled her with loss. Maybe it would be good, though. They could adjust to marriage without the pressure of seeing each other every day.

With a nod, she said, “Four months should be plenty of time even if you run into trouble. How soon until you’re ready to leave?”

“Two weeks. That’ll put us at mid-May,” he answered.

Before she could say more, wagons piled high with her belongings pulled to a stop in front of the house, amid the jangling of harnesses.

“They’re here. You hold Angel while I go help,” Houston said.

Angel? The warmth of his voice at the nickname banished some of the coldness from her chest. If he couldn’t find it in his heart to love her, at least he seemed to love the child that had been conceived in a horrific act of violence.

As they transferred the sleeping babe, his hands brushed hers, sending a series of little aftershocks charging through her. Still tingling, Lara watched her husband open the front door and hurry to help her father and brothers unload.

Lara touched the puckered scar ruining her face and her eyes filled with tears.

She wished she was pretty and unsoiled. And that Houston Legend wanted her because he was utterly and hopelessly in love with her.

With a shake of her head, she came down to earth. Such fantasies were useless in the face of harsh reality.

Lara could curse the day Yuma Blackstone had ridden onto their ranch, but she couldn’t change who she was.