Page 60 of Texas Destiny
Chapter Thirteen
Houston saw the cloud of gray dust billowing in the distance, the riders shimmering against the afternoon sun. If he weren’t on Dallas’s land, he might have felt a measure of panic, but he was certain Dallas would have had his men out patrolling the area where he expected them to ride in. Besides, he recognized the black wide-brimmed hat that was his brother’s trademark, ordered special from the Stetson factory in Philadelphia. He didn’t know of any other man in the area with a hat brim that wide.
He drew the mule to an ungainly stop. He wished he’d had time to tame one of the mustangs, but his method of taming a horse was slower than his method of capturing them. He didn’t relish meeting his brother with a mule beneath him. He nearly snorted at the odd timing of his pride. His pride. His father had first beat it out of him. Then the war had buried it in an unmarked grave. Amelia brought Sorrel to a graceful halt. Houston couldn’t stop himself from engaging in a moment of self-indulgence, of watching her from beneath the shadows of his hat. She was one hell of a horsewoman as far as he was concerned, an even finer lady. She’d do Dallas proud.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
Reaching over, Houston unwrapped the canteen from her saddlehorn and handed it to her. “Riders.”
She cupped her hand over her furrowed brow and gazed into the distance. He thought of a hundred things he should say to her at this moment before she left his side, never to return.
But he held his silence because it was easier, so much easier. Or at least it should have been easier. For the first time in his life taking the easy way seemed damn hard.
He watched the column of her throat lengthen as she tilted her head back and drank deeply from the canteen. Several strands of her hair had worked their way free of her braid and the prairie breeze whipped them around her face. Her dress was soiled, her feet bare, her face kissed by the sun.
He thought she’d never looked more beautiful.
She handed the canteen back to him, worry etched within her eyes.
“The man riding in the front, the one wearing the black hat, is Dallas,” he said.
She nervously combed her hair back. “I look a mess.”
“You look beautiful.”
He swung his gaze away from her, and Amelia wondered what it was she had briefly seen reflected in his face. Regret? Loneliness? He wore each one closely woven together, like a layered second skin.
The land surrounding her was vast, as vast as her future, her dreams. The man with whom she’d agreed to share both rode toward her. She wrung her hands together, her trepidation increasing. “I didn’t expect to meet him with an audience.”
“It’s just his trail hands. Imagine he had them out lookin’ for us.”
The pounding of hooves intensified as the riders neared, a tide of dust rolling behind them. Then a deafening silence roared around Amelia as the men brought their horses to a staggering halt, as though they’d slammed against a brick wall. The horses snorted and whinnied, prancing before her. The men simply stared, slack jawed.
The man who had been in the lead removed his hat, and Amelia was struck hard by his handsome features. His black hair was cut shorter than Houston’s, trimmed evenly, and indented where his hat had pressed against it. His thick black mustache draped around full lips that she longed to see shaped into a smile. His brown eyes scrutinized her as they slowly traveled from the top of her head to the tip of her tiniest toe. She fought the urge to squirm in her saddle, wishing she’d at least gone to the trouble to work her feet into her shoes.
Slowly, each of the six men surrounding him removed their hats as though in a trance, their mouths gaping open, their solemn gazes riveted on her. Only the young man who had ridden beside Dallas seemed comfortable with the sight that greeted them, his grin broad, his eyes the mesmerizing blue of the hottest flames writhing within a fire.
Dallas dismounted and, with a pronounced limp, walked toward Sorrel, his gaze never leaving Amelia. He grabbed the reins when the horse shied away, and Amelia sensed that his one movement left no doubt in the horse’s mind who had just become his master.
“Miss Carson, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” he said, his voice rich with confidence, his stance bold as though he knew no one and nothing could topple him from the mountain of success he’d climbed.
He was all that she’d expected. He wore self-assurance the way Houston wore his duster. She touched her braid. “A raccoon ran off with my hat.”
Dallas blinked hard and stared at her. Houston cleared his throat, and Amelia wished a dust storm would rise up and sweep her across the plains. After all these many months, she finally had the opportunity to speak with him in person, and she’d said something that might make him think she’d left her wits back in Georgia.
“I told you to put a rattlesnake on that hat instead of a bird. Raccoon wouldn’t have touched a rattlesnake.”
Dallas snapped his head around and glared so intensely at the young smiling man that she was surprised he didn’t topple out of his saddle. “Was she talking to you?”
The young man’s smile grew. “Nah, but I was listenin’.”
Dallas’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Carson, that youngster is my brother, Austin. I’ll introduce you to my men in time.”
Amelia smiled warmly at the young man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
Austin ducked his head, blushing clear up to the roots of his scraggly black hair. Amelia’s cheeks grew warm. From the corner of her eye, she saw a muscle in Houston’s jaw strain as he fought to hold back what she was certain would be a smile if he gave it freedom. He had told her the truth about Austin: He was the sort people took to right away. Even while sitting in a saddle, he was more relaxed than either of his brothers.
His dark brown gaze uncompromising, his jaw tight, and his stance foreboding, Dallas turned his attention to Houston. “You’re over three weeks late, with no wagon, no supplies. Reckon you got some explaining to do.”
