Page 52 of Texas Destiny
Silence was his answer. She wondered if he’d wanted other things in his life, but had put his desires aside in favor of someone else’s. A horse’s whinny broke through the silence. Beneath her cheek, Houston’s heart thudded rapidly.
“Do you think that’s him?” she whispered.
“Yep.”
“And you’re going to let him go?”
“Amelia?” She heard the frustration in his voice. “It’s not like I’ll ride out and rope him and be done with it. Capturing mustangs the way I do is slow goin’.”
She came back up on her elbow. “How do you capture them?”
He sighed deeply. “I become one of them.”
A warm smile crept over her face. “I’d love to see that.”
“Well, you’re not gonna. I need to get you to Dallas. Now go to sleep.”
She snuggled back against him. “What color did you say he was?”
“Palomino.”
“And the first horse that ran through, his favorite mare was the same color, wasn’t she?”
“Yep.”
“And their manes looked silver in the moonlight.”
“They were silver.”
“They ran so incredibly fast. Have you ever seen horses run that fast?” He held his silence.
“I like the way he threw his head back—”
“You’re aggravating, you know that? I’m trying to forget I ever saw them, and you won’t stop talkin’ about them.”
“If you don’t capture them while we’re here, you might lose them forever.” She rose back onto her elbow and cradled his unshaven cheek in her hand. “Sometimes, we only get one chance to realize our dreams.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her face immobile. “I don’t deserve dreams,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Everyone deserves a dream. Dallas wants a son. Our staying here a couple of more days won’t stop him from obtaining what he desires. Your dream is to raise horses. Don’t let Dallas’s dream overshadow yours. Yours is just as important. Those horses could be part of it.” She placed her hand over his. He turned his palm, intertwined his fingers with hers, and brought the back of her hand to his lips.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice taut.
She heard the palomino stallion whinny in the far distance. “I’m pledged to your brother, but that doesn’t mean I’ve closed my heart to other dreams. If I’m with you when you capture the horses, then I’ll become part of your dream as well. And years from now, someone will ride a magnificent palomino horse because we dared to reach for the dream … and we’ll be remembered.”
Chapter Twelve
Houston had never considered his desire to raise horses as a dream, but he supposed that it was. He always found a measure of peace when he worked with the mustangs, perhaps because he knew what it was to have one’s spirit broken, to be beaten down, and to be left feeling worthless. As a result, he worked damn hard not to break the horse’s spirit.
Some horses, like the black mustang Dallas had tried to break, simply couldn’t be broken. They were too proud or just too ornery, much as his older brother was. He figured his father had recognized that stubborn trait in Dallas and realized that he couldn’t be broken so he’d never tried to bend him to his will. He’d accepted him as he was.
Houston, though, had been another matter. He’d have gladly given his life if just once his father had looked at him with pride reflected in his eyes, but then he had to admit that he’d probably never given his father cause to feel pride toward him.
He glanced around the small boxed canyon. The mustangs could drink at the pond nestled in the corner and rest after the chase until he was ready to take them out. He wouldn’t have enough rope to take them all, but he’d take the best. The stallion, his favored mare, and any others he thought would be worth his time. The remaining horses he’d let run free.
Wiping his brow, he watched the woman who wanted to be part of his dream, her fingers nimbly uncoiling a thick rope so he could wrap the individual strands around the tree limbs he had gathered. He didn’t dare tell her that she was already in his dreams, those he had at night while he held her in his arms, those that would never become reality.
He would never wake up with her in his bed. He wouldn’t grow old holding her hand. He would never see her eyes darken with passion. He would never tell her that he loved her.
