Page 79 of Texas Destiny
She watched as Austin ran to the corral. She waited an eternity for him to mount the horse and gallop out of sight. She felt Houston’s hand come to rest on her shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself from turning and stepping into his embrace. He closed his arms around her, and she laid her head against his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.
“Dallas came here last night, didn’t he?”
His arms tightened around her. “Dallas has his life planned out in detail. He’s just a little frustrated right now because some of those details didn’t go as planned. Once you’re married—”
She lifted her gaze. “I don’t love him. I don’t know if I’ll ever love him.”
He released his hold on her and stepped back as though she’d suddenly sprouted poisonous fangs. “You knew you wouldn’t be marrying for love when you placed your ad.”
“Because at the time, I didn’t know what it was to love, how precious a gift it is.”
“If it’s a gift, then it can be given away, and you’ll find a way to give it to Dallas.”
“I’ve already given it away. I can’t take it back. But you don’t want it, do you?”
She saw anguish reflected in the depths of his gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that I don’t deserve it.”
“Why?”
“Ask Dallas. It’s the reason he can’t stand the sight of me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sitting astride his horse, Dallas gazed at the tower, admiring its simple design as he admired all works of man that harnessed nature. He found comfort in the steady pounding of the hammer as Jackson worked to finish the wooden structure. Dallas already had three windmills bringing up water on his land. His first had been built where he’d always planned to build his house so he could gift his wife with the luxury of pumped-in water.
He, his brothers, and the men who worked for him had slept beneath the stars before Amelia had accepted his offer of marriage. Her simple words,“Iwould consider it an honor to become your wife,” had set Dallas on a course toward establishing stability. He’d built the house that he had thought about for years: something grand, worthy of the family who would live within its walls. He had erected a bunkhouse to add to the feeling of permanence that Amelia’s letters had stirred in him. The future would find a kitchen next to the bunkhouse to replace the chuckwagon because eventually the cook would become as stationary as the cattle.
The barbed wire would see to that. It would bring dramatic changes to their lives, just as the expansion of the railroads continued to do. Dallas fought a constant battle to stay ahead of the changes, to make decisions that wouldn’t leave him trailing in the dust. He had to be the best. His father would accept no less.
Dallas shifted his backside over the saddle. He wanted to carry his son to the top of the windmill so together they could look out over all the land that he had tamed. He wanted to teach his son to appreciate nature, to understand its weaknesses, to respect its strengths. He wanted to love his son unconditionally, as his father had never loved him.
Everything he owned, all that surrounded him, he had gained through his own efforts, his own persistence, his willingness to take chances when other men held back. If he could obtain a son on his own, he would, but he was a man who acknowledged his own limitations.
He needed a wife in order to have a son. He needed Amelia. And whether or not she knew it, she needed him.
He hadn’t been tactful when he’d confronted Houston last night. When Houston’s fist had plowed into his face, Dallas had thought his brother intended to claim Amelia for his own. Instead, he had threatened to find her another husband. If Houston harbored feelings for Amelia, they didn’t run deeply enough to overshadow Dallas’s desire for a son.
As for Amelia’s feelings … After receiving her gentle ministrations as she had repaired the damage inflicted to his cheek, Dallas had decided it was simply her nature to care about people. He would see to it that she never regretted taking him as her husband.
And the sooner she became his wife, the sooner these needless doubts would stop distracting him from the concerns of running his ranch. “Jackson!”
The pounding stopped, the silence reverberating through the air as the man at the top of the tower tilted back his hat. “Yeah, boss?”
“Need to talk to you.”
Dallas eased his stallion forward as Jackson nimbly climbed down the sturdy structure. His legs were as long as a longhorn’s, his body as wiry. Dallas admired his agility and respected him for doing his job when no one was around to watch him. It was the trait of a good cowboy; a trait all the men who worked for him possessed. He might know nothing of their pasts, but he knew how they worked.
The man hit the ground with both feet and swept his hat from his head. “Yes, sir?”
“I need you to go find the circuit preacher.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped. “What about the windmill?”
“I need a son more than I need water.”
“You won’t be thinkin’ that if we get hit with a drought.”
Dallas raised a dark brow, and the man settled his hat over his dark hair. “Yes, sir. I’ll find him.”
