Page 86 of Texas Destiny
“I never learned how to dance,” Houston said, grateful he had an honest excuse not to hold her within his arms, wishing he didn’t have any excuse.
Her face fell momentarily before she brightened and spun around. “Well, then, I’m most grateful that you asked me … Skinny, isn’t it?”
The cowboy’s face split into a grin. “No, ma’am. Slim.”
“Oh, yes, Slim. You’ll have to tell me how you came by that name,” she said as she slipped her arm through his and followed him to an area near the corrals.
Houston could have sworn her attentions had the cowboy growing two inches. As the couple approached, the men let out a whoop and formed a big circle. Cookie climbed on a wooden box, slipped the fiddle beneath his chin, and started playing a fast little tune. Slim hooked his arm through Amelia’s, skipped her around, then released her and stepped back, clapping and stomping his foot as another cowboy pranced into the circle, slipped his arm through hers, repeated Slim’s previous movements, then backed out of the circle, giving another man a chance.
Houston smiled at Amelia’s surprised expression and the smile of pure delight to which it quickly gave way.
“Imagine she was expecting something closer to a waltz,” Dallas said, a wide grin shining beneath his mustache.
“Reckon she was.”
Dallas leaned on his cane. “Thought you had other plans for the evening.”
“Got to thinking about it and figured if Amelia sent the invite, I’d best come. She’s not a woman you want to rile.”
“So I’m learning.” Dallas shifted his stance. “I’m thinking of setting aside some land for a town. A woman needs certain things. I aim to see that Amelia gets them.”
A town would bring more people. Houston hated the thought, but he hated more the idea of Amelia doing without. “When I was in Fort Worth, I heard talk of them taking the railroad farther west. If it stays on the course they’ve set for it, I’d say it’s gonna hit the southernmost portion of your spread. You’ll need the railroad to bring the businessmen.”
Dallas nodded slowly. “Makes sense. I’ll keep that in mind. Speaking of Fort Worth, I don’t think I ever thanked you proper for going to fetch Amelia for me.”
Houston slipped his hand inside his duster pocket, his fingers trailing over threads that were becoming worn. “I’d planned to shoot you when I got back.”
Dallas jerked his head around, then turned his attention back to the dancers. “Why didn’t you?”
“Lost a case of bullets when the wagon overturned, so at the moment I don’t have any to spare.”
Dallas’s laughter rumbled out. “Then I’d better hope that preacher gets here before the supplies. I think you care for Amelia too much to make her a widow.”
Houston watched as Austin, with his gangly arms and legs, took a turn at dancing with Amelia. Dallas was right. Houston cared for her too much to make her a widow … too much to make her his wife.
Chapter Seventeen
“During the ceremony tomorrow, do you think I should stress that a husband should not beat his wife?”
Amelia scrutinized the minister who had just spoken, a man who leisurely hitched up his hip and sat on the porch railing, his long black coat opening to reveal his pearl-handled revolver. “I hardly think that will be necessary,” she assured him.
Reverend Preston Tucker nodded slowly. “After speaking with Dallas earlier, I didn’t think so, but a wedding ceremony is more for the woman than the man. Most men I know would consider the deed done with little more than a ‘Do you?’ followed by ‘I do’ and a handshake.”
“Incredibly romantic.”
“Romance is seldom involved out here. I’ve performed several ceremonies involving mail-order brides. Some women feel more comfortable if I stress how they should be treated.”
“I feel fairly confident that Dallas will treat me just fine.”
He studied her as one might a bug beneath a rock, his blue eyes penetrating. Dressed all in black—black shirt, black trousers, long black coat—he appeared relaxed, and yet he left the distinct impression that he was ever alert, ever watchful. He reminded her more of a gunfighter than a preacher.
His full lips lifted into a smile that she thought could tempt any woman into sinning.
“Something’s bothering you,” he stated simply.
“I was just wondering if you planned to wear the gun during the ceremony.”
He slowly stroked the revolver strapped to his thigh. “No, I just wear it when I’m traveling. It bothers you, though. Perhaps I bother you.”
