Page 43 of Texas Destiny
“When Mama died, I placed my ad to travel west and become a wife. I had to leave, to get away from the land that had soaked up my sisters’ blood, away from the memories. I need new memories to replace those that haunt me when darkness closes in.”
The thunder echoed around them, the lightning shimmered through the air, and the rain began to fall again, harder than before. She nestled up against his shoulder.
Houston removed his hat, giving the rain the freedom to wash over them, to wipe the tears from her face, and to ease the hurt in her heart.
The deluge prevented him from hearing her voice, but the shape of her lips revealed the words “Thank you.”
He could only nod and pray that when the storm ended, he would find the strength to let her go.
Chapter Ten
Houston stared at the roiling brown river and cursed last night’s storm. It lingered on the air, threatening to return, leaving gray clouds hovering low and a strong brisk wind toying with the prairie grasses. If the storm returned, it had the power to make the river impassable for days, leaving Houston’s options damn limited as far as he was concerned.
They could wait until the water receded and hope the storm moved on with no others coming to take its place. But they were already behind schedule. As it was now, they wouldn’t arrive when Dallas was expecting them. He didn’t think Dallas could afford to send his men out on a wild-goose chase, so instead, his brother would be pacing on his bad leg, staring toward the rising sun, and working himself into a slow simmering temper.
Or Houston could haul Amelia and the wagon across the river, and hope the good fortune he’d lost somewhere along the way would catch up with him. Not one thing had delayed him in reaching Fort Worth. Nothing should have delayed him in returning to the ranch.
He prodded Sorrel forward. The horse moved cautiously through the swirling water, but she didn’t hesitate. Houston trusted the animal’s instincts. If the horse had balked, he wouldn’t have pressed her on.
The cold water lapped at Houston’s calves. Crossing rivers had never been his favorite part of trailing cattle or moving from one spot to the next.
They reached the middle of the river. The small waves slapped at Sorrel’s sides, but the river itself wasn’t as deep as Houston had expected it to be. He glanced over his shoulder. Amelia sat in the wagon, worry etched along her delicate features.
Despite the cold water, her concern warmed him. She would soon become his sister by marriage, but he seemed unable to steer his feelings toward brotherly concern. They ran deeper, so much deeper. He pulled the reins to the right, guiding the horse back to the bank from which they’d come.
“What do you think?” Amelia asked as they cleared the water.
“I think it’s safe, but I want to take you over on the horse. Then I’ll come back for the wagon.”
“Why are wooden crosses lining the bank?” she asked.
He glanced toward the crude markers, made from tree limbs. “It’s not unusual to lose a man when you’re crossing a river, herding cows. Horse gets spooked, cows get spooked. Man goes under, can’t swim, the cows stop him from coming back up.”
“I suppose, then, that I should be grateful we’re not herding cows.”
“Yep. Reckon you should be.”
She gnawed her bottom lip. “Do you swim?”
“Yep.”
Relief quickly flickered in her eyes, trust soon replacing it. Dallas’s trust had been heavy enough to bear, hers seemed incredibly heavier.
He positioned his horse and held out his hand, anticipating the warmth of her fingers within his grasp. She slipped elegantly onto the back of the horse and wrapped her arms around him.
“The water’s cold,” he said as the horse skidded down the bank and splashed into the river.
Releasing a small gasp when the water rose up to their calves, she tightened her hold on him. “How many more rivers do we have to cross?” she asked.
“Not many, but this is the widest and deepest. It would have been better if we’d been able to cross before the storm.”
Sorrel momentarily lost her footing. Houston’s heart leapt into his throat, nearly suffocating him with the thought of Amelia’s falling from her precarious perch behind him, but she clung tenaciously to him while he held fast to the saddle horn, calming the horse with the pressure of his thighs, his sure hand on the reins.
He knew the moment the horse regained her footing. He urged Sorrel forward, breathing an unsteady sigh of relief as the water grew shallow. Sorrel struggled up the muddy tree-lined bank.
Reaching behind him, Houston helped Amelia slide off the horse. He shrugged out of his duster and draped it over her shoulders. “Why don’t you see if you can find some dry wood so we can warm up before we head out?”
With concern clearly reflected in her eyes, she rested her hand on his thigh. He would have sworn her touch latched onto his heart.
