Page 75 of Texas Destiny
“I just did. Now get the hell off my land.”
“You bedded her, didn’t you?”
Like most cowboys, Houston had never before hit a man. Guns were a man’s way, not fists. His brother’s face felt like a wall of stone when Houston’s tightened fist made contact with it. The pain shot up his arm as Dallas stumbled back and fell off the porch. Houston leapt off the porch and planted his foot squarely on his brother’s chest. Dallas grunted and wrapped his hands around Houston’s ankle. Houston pressed down.
“I told you to stay off that goddamn horse, but you wouldn’t listen! And I paid the price for your stubbornness. For forty-three days I traveled through hell, wanting that woman like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. For forty-three days, I drew your goddamn brand in the dirt to remind myself that she belonged to you, that she deserved the best of men. Think what you want of me, but never for one goddamn minute think less of her because you forced her into my company.” He jerked his foot back. “She went through hell to get to you: snake, storm, flood, hunger, and cold, and she never once complained. She’s a woman of courage, Dallas, and by God, if you don’t worship the ground she walks on, I’ll find her a husband who will. Now, get the hell off my land.”
Without looking back, Houston strode to the corral and crossed his arms over the railing. He was shaking badly and his legs felt like the thick mud of a bog. He thought they might buckle under him at any moment. That would certainly ruin the effectiveness of his tirade. He thought he might even be sick.
He heard Dallas’s horse whinny and then he heard the pounding of hooves. He slid to the ground and leaned back against the fence post. His father had been a violent man, quick to raise his voice and fist in anger. Houston had never wanted to be like him. He’d kept his temper to himself, letting it gnaw at his insides, never letting it show for fear of what it might do.
Well, now he knew. He was just like the man he despised.
* * *
Within the depths of slumber, Amelia heard her name whispered frantically. She struggled through the haze, squinting against the light burning in the lantern. She could see a slender form hovering over her bed, a young man with worried eyes. Austin.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Bad news always came at night. Houston. Something had happened to Houston. She jerked upright and grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Dallas got hurt.”
“Dallas?” Her momentary relief gave way to panic and guilt. Her first waking thought should have been of Dallas. Scrambling out of bed, she wrapped a blanket around herself.
“It ain’t bad,” Austin explained, “but I think it’s gonna need stitching.”
She rushed to the chair by the window and knelt beside the green dress she’d been trying to repair. She grabbed her scissors and cut the thread before slipping the needle from the cloth. “Where is he?” she asked as she spun around. Caught off guard, she stared at Austin, who had pressed her pillow against his face.
Guiltily, he dropped her pillow to the bed. “Your pillow don’t smell like mine.”
“Do you want to take it?” she asked.
He hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his trousers and ducked his head. “Nah, I’d best not. The men might laugh at me. That sweet smell would surely get noticed in the bunkhouse. It’s rank in there, just like old meat.”
She made a quick mental note to sprinkle some fragrance in his room once he moved back into it after she and Dallas were married. “Where is Dallas?”
“Oh!” He jumped, his arms flailing out. “This way.”
She followed him to the barn. Dallas was sitting just inside the doorway, his head pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed. Dust coated his clothes. Blood trailed slowly down his bruised and swelling cheek.
“Oh, my goodness, what happened?” Amelia exclaimed as she knelt beside him.
His eyes flew open, and he glared over her shoulder at Austin. “I told you to get the cook.”
“I know, but I figured you probably just forgot that we had a woman here to tend to our needs.”
“Amelia, go back to bed,” Dallas ordered. “I’ll get Cookie.”
He started to rise, and Amelia placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, but we’ll need to move to the kitchen.”
“That wouldn’t be proper.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not married, and it’s the dead of night.”
She sighed. “You’re hurt. You’re the man I’m going to marry. Surely the men who work for you know that I can trust you in my kitchen.”
She could see the arguments running through his mind. She thought she might never understand the way a man thought. “It makes no sense that I can travel across the state with your brother and not damage my reputation, but helping you in a time of need will mark me as a loose woman.”
