Page 55 of Texas Destiny
They spoke seldom during the day, but at night, after they’d eaten, after he’d banked the fire and drawn her into his arms, they’d talk quietly about the past, the present, but never the future.
She came to know more about the man she was to marry in those quiet moments. Houston was more comfortable relating tales of his brother than tales of himself, but she loved best the moments when his story carried a portion of his life.
She learned that Dallas was the favored son, although Houston never came out and admitted it. From the warmth in his voice when he spoke of his mother, she knew that Houston had adored the woman who had fought to bring him into the world.
She hoarded the stories he told her like a miser might hoard gold, sifting through his words, searching for all the keys that unlocked the mysteries that were his.
Houston lost track of the number of days that they traveled, but every night when he gathered Amelia in his arms to sleep, he fought a battle with his conscience, trying to justify what he’d done. He could have taken her to the ranch and returned for the mustangs. Heshouldhave taken her to the ranch.
But dammit, he’d wanted her with him, to share the capture, to know the horses as he knew them, to be able to lay claim to a corner of his dream.
When he turned her over to Dallas, she’d begin to live her own dream, and he had no place in it.
He drew his mule to a halt. Amelia’s mount stopped, along with the mustangs he had in tow. They’d settled on eight. One was a puny thing that he didn’t think would ever amount to much, but the woman beside him was afraid it wouldn’t survive on its own when they released the horses without the stallion and his favored mare to guide them. So he’d kept the gentle creature, knowing full well his world wasn’t made for gentle things.
The shadows were lengthening but they had plenty of daylight left, too much daylight left. He veered his mount to the left, trusting everyone else to follow.
* * *
In awe, Amelia stared at the small spring. Three waterfalls, each no taller than a man, cascaded over the moss-covered rocks and through the brush, melting into the wide pond. The horses lapped at the clear water.
Beside her, Houston hunkered down, stirred up the water near the edge of the bank and dipped his palm beneath the surface. “It’s colder than I expected it to be.”
His voice reflected disappointment, and he glanced up at her. “Thought you might like a swim … but it’s too cold.”
She knelt beside him and flitted her fingers through the water. “When I was little, I used to run and hide when my mother told Dulce to get my bath ready. I thought it would be wonderful to never have to take a bath, to get as dirty as I wanted, and have no one care.” She tugged on her bodice. “I have never felt so filthy in my whole life. I’m surprised you get as close to me as you do.”
“I’m not too sweet smelling myself.”
“I think the horses smell better than we do.”
He nodded slowly. She lowered her hand into the water. “It’s not too cold once you get used to it.” Her gaze circled the pond. ‘Do you think there are snakes here?”
“I’ve never seen one, but let me scout around.”
As he studied the perimeter of the pond, she removed her shoes, her fingers shaking with the thought of a snake digging his fangs into her again. She took a deep, calming breath, determined not to let her fears guide her life.
“Think you’ll be safe. I’m gonna gather up some wood, then I’ll get a fire goin’. You can wade in. Holler if you see anything.”
He walked away. She didn’t care how cold the water was. They’d been traveling for days with little more than shallow streams that wouldn’t get her big toe wet. She wanted a warm bath in a big wooden tub, but she’d settle for this cold spring.
She’d placed his hat on a boulder and stripped down to her undergarments before she thought to glance over her shoulder. Houston was sitting back on his haunches before a pile of wood, staring at her. He scuttled around until he presented her with his back.
After all they’d been through, removing her clothes in front of him had seemed natural. She waded into the water and screeched.
Houston surged to his feet and raced across the clearing. Laughing, Amelia held up her hands. “No, it’s just cold.”
He skidded to a halt. “Don’t go hollerin’ like that. You made my heart stop beating.”
Tensing, holding her breath, she sank beneath the water. She came up laughing and sputtering. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Come join me.”
He looked as though she’d just plowed her fist into his stomach. She glanced down. The white linen clung to her body, outlining her curves, shading the different facets of her body. She eased into the water, welcoming its chill. “Come join me,” she repeated softly.
“Good Lord, woman, are you outta your mind?”
“Maybe I am, traveling across the country to marry a man I barely know. Traveling across Texas with a man I didn’t know. You could have taken advantage of me and you didn’t. I don’t think you will now.” She tilted her head to the side. “It feels nice to get the dust off.”
Houston knew his body needed a cooling off … bad. He tossed his duster onto the ground and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped down to remove his boots and socks. If his body didn’t like the sight of her so much, he’d remove his trousers. As it was, he waded in, cringing as the cold seeped through his remaining clothing. “How long before I get used to it?” he said gruffly.
