Page 9 of Texas Destiny
She pressed his letters to her lips. Already, she fostered a hint of affection for Dallas Leigh. Surely, love could not be far behind.
The rapping on her door came as softly as the pale sunlight easing through her window.
Taking a shaky breath, she placed the precious letters in her carpetbag, picked up her hat, and walked to the mirror. Ignoring the bobbing bird, she worked a hatpin through the narrow brim. Although it would probably be at least another three weeks before she met her betrothed, she hoped he would recover quickly enough to meet them before the end of the journey.
She anxiously crossed the room, wrapped her trembling fingers around the doorknob, and pulled open the door. Her apprehension receded as she looked at the profile of the man standing in the hallway.
The damp ends of his black hair dragged along the collar of his duster. He smelled of soap, and she realized he’d indulged in a bath as well. She supposed the journey would hold no luxuries for him, either.
“Ready?” he asked in a low voice.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She stepped into the hallway as he walked into the room and retrieved her bag.
She could think of nothing to say as the click of the closing door echoed along the hallway, effectively drawing to a close one phase of her life. She averted her gaze from the tall man standing beside her. She didn’t want him to see the doubts darting in and out like a naughty child searching for mischief: One moment they were gone and the next they were playing havoc with her emotions. She placed her palm over the watch she’d safely stored within a hidden pocket in her skirt. She imagined she could hear its steady ticking as it patiently marked the passing moments until she placed her gift into Dallas Leigh’s hand, a hand she was certain was as large and as bronzed as his brother’s.
“We’d best get goin’,” Houston said.
Breathing deeply, she once again forced her qualms to retreat. “Yes, I suppose we should. Do you have many supplies to purchase?”
“Not many.”
In silence, she followed him out of the hotel and onto the boardwalk. His strides weren’t as long or as hurried as they’d been the day before. Enjoying the leisurely pace as she walked by his side, Amelia studied the clapboard buildings, the men hunched over as they drove wagons down the street, and the horses carrying riders toward destinations unknown to her. Anticipation thrummed through the warming breeze. Savoring the excitement, she hoarded the images, knowing a time would come when she’d share them with her children, her first impressions of a town that had brought her closer to her destiny.
She was so absorbed in her musings that she nearly bumped into Houston when he came to a dead halt in front of a dress shop.
He glared at the simple plank of wood as though it were a despised enemy. Considering his previous hurry to be on his way to the ranch, she thought his time would be better spent picking up the supplies he needed. She was on the verge of suggesting he move on when he took a deep breath and shoved open the door. Bells tinkled above his head, and he cringed.
“Get inside,” he said in a low voice.
Baffled by his choice of stores, Amelia strolled into the small shop ahead of him. When she thought of supplies, she thought of canned goods, cooking utensils, and an assortment of odds and ends that a person would usually purchase at the mercantile or general store. She wondered if he had a wife for whom he wished to purchase some clothing. She knew very little about Houston, but it warmed her to think she might be traveling with a man who would be somewhere he obviously didn’t want to be in order to obtain a gift. She imagined his wife would be as dark as he was, small, and quiet. Very quiet.
A buxom woman with bright red hair threw aside the curtains behind the counter and waltzed into the room. “I thought I heard my little bells,” she exclaimed in a voice hinting at a French ancestry. Her hands fluttered over the counter. “I am Mimi St. Claire. Proprietor and expert dressmaker.”
Amelia watched as Houston clenched and unclenched his hand before reaching up to remove his hat.
“Oh, my,” Mimi St. Claire squeaked, pressing her hand above her bosom. She laughed nervously. “You took me unawares, sir. Shadows one moment, none zee next. What can I do for you?”
“She needs to be outfitted,” Houston said in a taut voice.
“Outfitted?” Mimi questioned.
Houston gave a brusque nod.
Stunned, Amelia stared at the man. “You don’t mean to purchase clothes forme,do you?”
“Dallas told me to get you everything you needed before we headed back.” “
These are the supplies?”
“Yep.”
She wrapped her fingers around his arm and pulled him away from the counter, seeking a small measure of privacy.
“You can’t purchase me clothes,” she whispered. He stared at her hand as though he couldn’t quite figure out how it had come to be on his arm. She snapped her fingers in front of his eye, gaining his attention, and tightened her hold on his arm for emphasis. “You can’t purchase me clothes,” she repeated.
He shifted his gaze back to her hand. “Dallas is purchasing the clothing.”
With a sigh, she released his arm. “He already purchased the tickets for my journey. I don’t feel comfortable having him spend more of his hard-earned money on me. What if he changes his mind about marrying me?”
