Page 95 of Texas Destiny
“There’s a hell of a lot of difference between a sporting woman and a woman like Amelia.”
“How come?”
Houston sighed with frustration. He didn’t need or want this conversation tonight. Dallas was the one who had the vast experience with women. He should have done a better job of educating the boy. “Sporting women, well, they can be had for a price. A woman like Amelia … doesn’t give herself lightly. Men don’t fall in love with sporting women. But a woman like Amelia … when a man falls in love with a woman like Amelia … he does what’s best for her, no matter what the cost to him.”
“You ever fall in love with a woman like Amelia?”
“Once.”
“When?”
He dug his elbows unmercifully into his thighs, welcoming the distraction of the pain. “Forever. Reckon I’ll love her forever, till the day I die.”
“What happened to her?”
“She married someone else.”
“You loved her, but you let her marry some other fella? Why’d you do a fool thing like that?”
“Because it was best for her.”
“How do you know it was best for her?”
Houston swiveled his head and captured his brother’s gaze. “What?”
Austin shrugged. “What if what you thought was best for her wasn’t what she wanted?”
“What are you talking about?”
Austin slid his backside across the porch. “I’m not learned in these matters so I don’t understand how you know what you did was best for her.”
“I just know, that’s all. I just know.” He surged to his feet, leapt off the porch, and began pacing across the lantern-lit path, into the darkness, then back into the light. Darkness. Light. His life before Amelia. His life after he’d come to know her. Darkness. Light.
Hehaddone what was best for Amelia. She didn’t need to wake up each morning next to a man who was afraid of the dark, afraid of the dawn, afraid of what the day might hold. She deserved better. He’d given her better.
Dallas feared no man, feared nothing. He hadn’t run when the cannons were roaring and the bullets were whizzing past. He’d stood his ground and led the Confederate forces through the charge … over and over … in battle after battle.
Dallas was the kind of man Amelia deserved. Amelia with her courageous heart that had seen them through disaster after disaster. Amelia with the tears shimmering in her eyes, along with understanding.
Why had she looked at him with no judgment in her eyes, no revulsion after his confession?
He wasn’t the hero Dallas had been. He never would be. He had run like a frightened jackrabbit and paid a heavy price: his father’s life.
He had never talked with Dallas about that day. Sometimes, Houston would wonder if the battle had happened at all. Then he’d stop to water his horse at a pond. Within the clear still waters, he’d see his reflection, a constant memento of how his father had died.
He knew his face served as a reminder for Dallas as well. For months after Houston had been wounded, Dallas had preferred to stare at his mud-covered boots rather than meet Houston’s gaze.
Amelia should have averted her gaze as well. She should have been appalled and horrified. The woman kept her heart in her eyes and that was all he’d seen reflected there: her love for him.
He skidded to a dead halt and stared hard at Austin. The boy’s chin carried so many nicks from his first shave that it was a wonder he hadn’t bled to death. He was a year older than Houston had been when he’d last stood on a battlefield. Sweet Lord, Houston had never had the opportunity to shave his whole face; he’d never flirted with girls, wooed women, or danced through the night. He’d never loved.
Not until Amelia.
And he’d given her up because he’d thought it was best for her. Because he had nothing to offer her but a one-roomed log cabin, a few horses, a dream so small that it wouldn’t cover the palm of her hand.
And his heart. His wounded heart.
He yanked the reins off the hitching post and mounted his horse.
