Page 14 of Texas Destiny
“I could just pack the hat away, I suppose.”
“Got no room in the wagon for anything else.”
She knew that for the lie it was. A little less than half the wagon remained empty. “You really dislike the hat.”
“If you pack it away, there’s gonna come a day when company’s gonna come to call, and he’s gonna want you to wear it … in front of people who need to respect him. The way I see it, in the long run, you’ll be doing him a favor if it goes no farther west than this.”
“Are there raccoons around here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think I need to give my face a good scrubbing.”
He nodded. “I’ll find Austin’s hat.”
Amelia walked to the stream and knelt. Reaching up, she removed the hat and studied it. Dallas had bought it for her so he could identify her. It had served its purpose. She set it beside her and viciously scrubbed her face, praying he would never discover her deceit. She lifted her skirt and wiped the cool water from her face before casting a sideways glance at the hat. It remained untouched.
She rose to her feet and walked to the wagon. Houston handed her a black broad-brimmed hat.
“Are you sure Austin won’t mind?” she asked as she adjusted the positioning of the hat on her head.
“I’m sure.” He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the wagon, then settled in beside her.
“I feel guilty,” she said as he reached for the reins.
“Don’t.”
He flicked the reins and the mules began to pull the wagon across the stream. Amelia waited until the wagon had cleared the shallow stream before glancing back. The hat remained where she’d left it.
“Do you really think a raccoon will take it away?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But someday.”
The fire crackled softly, shooting sparks into the night. Despite the vastness of the black sky, an intimacy dwelled within the small camp, an intimacy that hadn’t existed in Fort Worth. Amelia wondered if perhaps it existed here because there were only the two of them, alone, surrounded by nothing but the dark shadows of the unknown.
She stole a sideways glance at her traveling companion as he sat on a nearby log and forked beans into his mouth. They had traveled through the afternoon in silence, her thoughts directed toward her hat and the raccoon, his thoughts … she had no idea where his thoughts had traveled.
He had set up a tent, tended the animals, and cooked a meal, speaking only when necessary to convey his needs. As he prepared the camp, he had moved with an effortless grace that always kept the right side of his body facing her. She wasn’t certain if he sought to protect his scarred face or to protect her from the sight of it. Perhaps it was a little of both.
“Are you married?” she asked quietly.
He jumped as though she’d fired a rifle into the night. His fork clattered onto the tin plate and flipped to the ground. He picked it up, wiped it on the leg of his trousers, and started moving the few remaining beans around on his plate. “Nope.”
He jammed the bean-laden fork into his mouth.
She knew his parents had lived in Texas when their children were born. She wondered if they’d lived elsewhere. “Did you grow up in Texas?” she asked, hoping to entice him into discussing his childhood, a childhood that had included Dallas.
“Nope. Lived in Texas when I was boy. Grew up outside of Texas.”
She furrowed her brow. “When did you leave Texas?”
“When the war started. When Pa enlisted, he signed me and Dallas up to go with him.”
Threads of Dallas’s letters wove through her mind. His military life had astounded her, given her cause for pride, but she had thought Dallas was nearly thirty and based on that knowledge, she’d assumed he had enlisted near the end of the war. She wondered if she had misread his letters, misjudged his age. “How old were you?”
“Twelve. Dallas was fourteen.”
“You were children,” she whispered, remembering so many young faces parading along the dirt road in front of their plantation.
