Nine

Almost as though on cue, the sun peeked timidly over the horizon and blinked hard at the same moment Houston waved his arm, signaling the start of the long trek to Kansas.

He breathed the Monday morning air, taking in the pink glow that spread across the sky like a young girl’s blush. But when his gaze swept to Lara, inching the chuck wagon forward behind the long line of hide and horns, knots twisted in his stomach.

Houston prayed he hadn’t made a mistake. If she or the baby got hurt or killed, he’d never forgive himself. Nor would he go home to face Till Boone. Death would wait for him on the Lone Star, because Till would surely kill him. If Lara’s brothers didn’t finish the job first.

Tugging on the reins, he turned his Appaloosa and rode toward Lara and Henry.

“We’ll go upstream to Doan’s Crossing and ford the river there,” Houston explained. “I’ll be close in case you have a problem. And if you need help with the baby, I can take her for a while.” He winked. “I’ll make a horsewoman out of her yet.”

The rising sun caressed her face, tilted up beneath the wide-brimmed hat, and for a moment, all Houston could think about was kissing her. The golden rays softened the angles of her features and he had to strain to see the scar. Although it was impossible, the jagged gash appeared to fade a little more each day.

“Relax, Houston. I appreciate your care of me, but at this rate, you’re going to worry yourself to death before we even leave Lone Star land.” The slight breeze lifted a copper curl and laid it across Lara’s emerald eyes. He felt the urge to smooth it back. To lean and touch her. Again, to kiss her.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said.

“Out here, Henry and I are two of the hands. I don’t expect any special treatment.” She brushed back the bothersome tendril of hair. “If I hadn’t thought I could do the job, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Sorry.” Houston rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever see you as one of the hands.”

“You’d better.” She grinned. “If you start harping on that again, I’ll take my frying pan to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Houston grinned back. “I get the message…Cookie. How’s that?”

“Better. If you can’t remember Cookie, call me Short Stuff.”

Henry leaned forward. “I’m Bones.”

“Bones? Where did that come from?” Houston grinned. “Are you a pirate?”

“Nope. I’m a cowboy. It’s my made-up name.”

“I see. I like it, Bones.” Houston loved hearing the boy’s laughter, and it didn’t take much to bring it on. He made a vow to give Henry more reasons to laugh. Sometimes the smallest things could make such a big difference. “Just make sure no one buries you.”

With the boy’s laughter taking flight in the breeze behind him, Houston rode forward. He had a job to do, and while he couldn’t totally forget the woman who drove the chuck wagon, he was able to direct his focus to getting the cattle over to the Great Western Trail and make the Red River crossing.

Quaid Boone rode drag at the end of the herd. As Houston leaned his elbow on the saddle horn and watched, Quaid took out after a runaway steer. The stubborn animal seemed to want nothing to do with going to Kansas.

After a minute or two, Quaid got the miscreant going in the right direction. He handled his horse well and kept an eagle eye on the stream of cows, always keeping them in line, watching out for troublemakers and pushing the lollygaggers forward. Houston admired his ability.

Midway of the herd rode Virgil. Houston had no trouble spotting the other Boone twin, with his reddish-blond hair. Virgil rode swing position behind the tall point man, Clay Angelo, who had worked on the Lone Star just shy of a year. The mysterious man had appeared one early morning asking for a job. The secretive look said he was running from a checkered past, but that hadn’t stopped Stoker from hiring him. Despite his short tenure, Clay had proven his worth many times over. Houston knew him to be a quiet man who kept to himself, but he trusted him completely. Some said he’d lost his right eye during the Civil War, but no one knew for sure. The only thing glaringly apparent was the black eye patch Clay wore. To a kid, he was a scary sight. Except to Gracie. The child adored him.

The mysterious man and Virgil made a good pair. Clay had plenty of patience to offer a young cowhand willing to learn.

After watching the brothers work for a minute, Houston heaved a big sigh of relief. Though lacking experience, they knew their way around horses and cattle.

Yes, he’d chosen wisely. This group of eighteen would give their all and pocket a goodly sum upon reaching Dodge City. He’d known cowboys who’d bought their own spread with money they made driving cattle north. He’d like to see that for each of these brothers. They were smart as whips. In fact, Virgil and Quaid reminded Houston of him and Sam. They yearned to prove themselves, to follow their own path wherever it may lead.

He just hoped it led to good health and prosperity. That was about all a man could wish for.

* * *

Toward sundown, with miles to go yet before they reached Doan’s Crossing where they would spend the night, a dry storm sprang up. Houston felt the shifting nervousness of the cattle. Longhorns were notoriously skittish. A silent warning made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Once, the sound of a man striking a match had set off a stampede. He knew about the danger and there was nothing he feared more. He’d seen seasoned men get trampled to death under the heavy hooves.

Desperate to try to contain the cattle, he galloped toward the front, wanting to be near the lead steer until the storm passed. Before he reached midway, a horrendous thunderclap shook the earth and deafened him in the bargain.

Two thousand spooked longhorns bolted.

The ground trembled violently under the force of thundering hooves. Houston cursed, scanning the sea of cattle for his men, praying they’d come through this alive.

If only he could get to the front, he stood a chance of turning them. If not, they’d have to run themselves out, and he couldn’t hazard a guess as to how many animals they’d lose. The likelihood of it being a good many was high.

With his focus riveted on his goal ahead, he stifled the urge to look back for the chuck wagon. He told himself that Lara and the baby were safe, praying he wouldn’t be wrong. He couldn’t bury their broken bodies so close to the Lone Star.

No, it wouldn’t happen. He’d vowed to keep Lara safe.

As he passed Quaid, the young man’s horse stumbled. Quaid tumbled from the saddle into the midst of the churning, mindless beasts.

Houston’s heart stopped. Thank goodness his Appaloosa kept going, running toward the downed man. Drawing near, he reached down and yanked Quaid from certain death. Grunting, Houston heaved Lara’s brother onto the back of his horse. Quaid was none the worse for wear, but in saving the young man, Houston had lost precious ground. He now had no hope of reaching the front.

Dust billowed up in huge clouds, blocking his vision. His Appaloosa stumbled and went down on one knee. As though by some miracle, the horse picked himself up and kept running.

The bawling longhorns’ eyes rolled back in their heads. They couldn’t see or hear anything except the madness inside their brains.

Quaid’s fingers dug into Houston’s skin in an effort not to lose his seating for a second time, and they galloped for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, through a break in the dust, he saw that Clay and Virgil had managed to get to the head steer. The two turned the cattle in a wide arc to the right—exactly as Houston would’ve done. In his experience, that was the best method for stopping a stampede.

With the big hook beginning, he knew Clay and Virgil had the upper hand and slowed his horse.

Only then did he search for the slow-moving chuck wagon.

But it was nowhere in sight.

His heart leaped into his throat. Had it turned over, buried Lara, the baby, and Henry underneath? Houston’s mouth went dry.

As the cattle began to slow, Houston pulled on the reins and headed back the way he’d come. When he reached Quaid’s horse, Houston let him off then rode toward whatever lay in store.

Please let me find them alive.

He followed the crushed vegetation, remembering a stampede ten years back, the smashed wagon with broken bodies underneath. Fear gripping him, onward he rode until he crested the top of a small hill.

The chuck wagon sat intact thirty feet away. He released a deep breath and charged forward. When he neared, Lara walked from the back. Houston bounded from the Appaloosa before it even came to a stop. With a cry, he raced to Lara and lifted her off her feet. Her hat flew to the ground.

Hugging her to him, he buried his face in her hair. “Thank God you’re all right.”

“Everyone’s fine.” She pulled back and stared in alarm. He was mesmerized by her long, dark lashes that brought out the startling green of her eyes.

“Sorry. I went a little crazy when I couldn’t find you,” he explained. Before he realized it, he’d settled his lips to hers. The minute their mouths touched, a spark flared and sent little offshoots through him.

He hadn’t meant this to happen, none of this, and it surprised him.

The unexpected kiss was full of the kind of heat that joined metals. His stomach flipped upside down as the feeling that this was right raced through him. Confusion warred with the pleasure winding around his heart. He let her go and stepped back.

But then he noticed how still she was. Oh God, he’d scared her. He couldn’t stand the fear written on her face, her breath that came in gasps. And the sounds she made in her throat that sounded like a small, cornered animal. What should he say—or do—now? Should he touch her? No. That probably wasn’t wise. It might scare her even more. Maybe he should just talk.

“I’m real sorry, Lara. I shouldn’t have done that.” He called himself every name he could think of and wished he knew what the hell he was doing. If only she’d slap the daylights out of him or yell.

Lara’s eyes were wide, her hands trembling.

Hell. Houston yanked off his hat and crushed it between his hands. “I was just so happy to find you alive and… I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She glanced up. “I know. Please, it’s all right. You simply startled me.”

“It won’t happen again,” he murmured, watching a fiery tendril blowing in the breeze. He imagined it felt like silk. Unsure of what to do next, he talked about the stampede and told her how far the cattle had run before they could get them stopped. He knew he wasn’t making much sense but he rattled on. If only he could take her in his arms. But that would make everything worse, of course. He felt like a bumbling idiot.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, she moved a little closer to him. “Though I’ve never been in a stampede, I knew to stay back. Did my brothers survive?”

“I think they’re all okay. Quaid fell from the saddle but I managed to pull him to safety before he got trampled.”

She laid a hand on his arm and the warmth seeped down to banish the cold that filled him over his stupid mistake. “Thank you, Houston. If anything had happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Where are—” Houston was interrupted when Henry poked his head from the opening of the thick muslin that formed the domed top and Houston relaxed. The boy held Gracie. “There you are, Bones. I was wondering where you got off to.” He might not know what to do with Lara, but with Henry he found sure footing.

“Hidin’.”

“Smart man.” Houston grinned. “I felt like doing that myself.”

“Mad cows are scary.” Henry dragged his sleeve across his eyes.

“Yep, they are.” Though Gracie held out her arms to him, he told her to stay with Henry. “Let’s go find the rest.” He helped Lara up into the wagon box, tied his horse to the back, and climbed up beside her. He’d drive to the place where they’d camp for the night.

They rode in silence across the vast land. Henry had crawled back into his den, leaving Houston alone with Lara, who appeared to have recovered.

At least so it seemed. He still didn’t know what to say to her and he didn’t want to make things worse. A glance showed that she’d unclenched her hands in her lap. He took that as a good sign.

“Lara, I want to talk to you about something. I should’ve brought this up before we left, but frankly, I forgot about it. Tell me if I ask too much and I won’t bring it up again.” He took a deep breath. “On a cattle drive, the men notice everything. They get bored and look for things to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“They’re going to think it very odd if we don’t act at least a little bit married.” Houston rubbed the back of his neck. This was out of his field and he knew he was making a mess of it. “What I’m trying to ask is…would you kiss me each night before you turn in?” He angled on the seat to look at her. The delicate curve of her cheek and the set of her chin gave no hint of her thoughts. “I won’t have them talking about you.”

If they did, Lord only knew how fast he’d light into them.

The horses’ hooves striking the ground and the rigging clanking broke the quiet.

“A kiss?” Lara met his gaze, her voice still quiet.

“One kiss. Unless it’s something you simply can’t do. If so, I’ll make up something to tell the men.” He watched her turn to stare straight ahead, her back stiff, and wished he could read minds. Dammit to hell!

He forced himself to remember the hard lesson he’d learned. Besides, Lara wanted nothing from him but his name. Why then had it felt so right kissing her? He hadn’t imagined that. She’d even leaned into him just a bit. He knew he was dumb about fragile women, but he hadn’t imagined that for one second. Maybe he hadn’t messed up too badly.

Still, theirs was a bargain struck—a deal made. This marriage was nothing more. For either of them. They were friends.

They lumbered along in silence with Houston calling himself every name he could think of for even suggesting a nightly kiss.

“I wouldn’t mind.” She met his gaze. “You ask for so little. And I think it might be…nice. And, Houston?”

“Yep?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing the best you can. The problem is me. And, Houston, just so you know—the feel of your lips on mine felt real good.”

A sudden smile curved his mouth. He glanced at the vivid blue of the sky to hide the unexpected happiness shooting through him. Despite doubts that had invaded his bones, life was good.

A long way from perfect, mind you. But good all the same.