A Texan's Honor (25 page)

“Once you've found a place to camp, let me know,” Bret told his brothers in an undertone. “We need to keep in touch with each other.”

They were standing by the corral again, a safe distance from the bunkhouse and anyone who might be listening. The way Sam had acted, the things he'd said, had caused the cowhands to feel a little sorry for Zeke and Hawk. Lonnie had been so sympathetic, he made no objection when Bret offered to see to their supplies.

“What do we do when we catch them?” Hawk asked.

“Bring them here. I'll let Sam decide what he wants to do.”

“Surely he wants them to hang,” Zeke said.

“If it's Lonnie, he's not really planning to steal any cows. You boys take care of yourselves. Isabelle would never forgive me if I got you hurt.”

Zeke looked at him like he'd lost his mind. “You're
the one who's been sitting behind a desk for six years. We ought to be making sure
you
don't get hurt.”

“I'm not sure anybody cares too much what happens to me.”

“Either those people in Boston taught you to lie or you've gone stupid,” Hawk growled. “I might not worry about your snotty ass, but you know Isabelle does.”

Bret had been sorry the moment the words left his mouth. He knew the feelings of his adopted family for each other hadn't changed. Otherwise he wouldn't have felt he could call on Zeke and Hawk to help him. And they wouldn't have come.

“I didn't mean that,” Bret said. “I've got some big decisions to make. I think I know what I
want
to do. The only problem is, I can't.”

“It's not like you to give up,” Zeke said.

Hawk nodded toward the ranch house. “Has it got anything to do with a certain young woman?”

“Yes,” Bret admitted with an embarrassed grin, “but she's off limits.”

“Who says?” Hawk asked.

“I do.”

“Good,” Hawk said, his intent expression relaxing. “Then you won't have any trouble changing your mind when you get the rest figured out.”

“It's like a half dozen dominoes all set to fall,” Bret explained. “Everything depends on which domino falls first and how it affects the rest of them. The number of possible outcomes are astronomical.”

“Leave it to a businessman to turn everything into a bunch of numbers,” Zeke said shaking his head. “It isn't that complicated. Decide what you want to do, then everything will fall into place.”

“Has it for you?”

“We haven't decided what we want to do,” Hawk said.

“So you're running around catching crooks and putting off the decision.”

“Something like that,” Zeke admitted.

“You're as bad as I am.”

“Not yet,” Hawk said. “We haven't fallen in love and are afraid to take the plunge and see if we pass.”

“You don't understand,” Bret said. “The problem is, I'm afraid I
do
pass.”

Hawk and Zeke looked at each other. “It's time for us to go to bed,” Zeke said. “This conversation is making no sense.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Bret said.

“Thank goodness I don't,” Hawk said. “Being half Comanche and half white is problem enough.”

Bret watched the two men head over to the bunkhouse. He envied the close friendship that had developed between Hawk and Zeke over the years. He was sure that when they married—if they ever did—their relationship would remain just as strong as ever.

He wondered why he'd never been able to form such a friendship. Was he too unlikable, or had he been too focused on his goal to take the time to get to know the people around him and let them know him? He supposed it didn't matter right now. He had a lot to do before he had to be back in Galveston for the winter. He hated to think of leaving Boston before the changes to the company were firmly in place, but at least staying there until December ought to give him time to get over Emily.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with her.

He didn't know when it had happened, but he knew when he'd first realized it: when she practically forced him to kiss her. He knew he was making a mistake, but not until it was too late did he realize just
how monumental his mistake was. He had another chance to pull back the night she joined him on the hillside, but he'd only gotten in deeper by kissing her again. Now every time he saw her, he wanted to touch her hand, put his arms around her, kiss her.

He'd spent his whole life on the outside trying to get in. Why hadn't the acceptance of the family Jake and Isabelle had cobbled together made him feel like he belonged? Why had he thought the acceptance of his Boston family would be any different? Jake had told him a real family wasn't defined by blood, but he hadn't believed it. He was so obsessed with going back to Boston and
forcing
his family to accept him,
forcing
them to admit they'd made a mistake by disowning his mother and abandoning him, that he couldn't see anything else. He couldn't value what he had because it wasn't what he thought he wanted, what was
owed
him.

Now he could finally admit he'd been wrong. You may be able to force a person to
do
a particular thing, but you can't force him to
feel
a particular emotion. And whether he liked it or not, most of his blood family wanted nothing to do with him. Why couldn't he see what was real and what was just a fantasy? Without even thinking, he'd promised Jinx that Jake and Isabelle would give him a home. Without hesitation, he'd turned to Hawk and Zeke when he needed someone he could trust. His first thought when he realized Emily would need a chaperon in Galveston had been to ask Isabelle. His
real
family was right here in Texas, and he'd been too stupid to see it. He'd written several letters to Isabelle over the years, but letters were a poor exchange for what he'd been given by her and Jake. He didn't like his Abbott relatives, yet he'd spent six years trying to make them accept him. What a fool he'd been!

He would have to visit the Broken Circle. It would be difficult to swallow his pride and admit he'd been blind and ungrateful, but it was the least he could do before he headed back to Boston. He'd lost his enthusiasm for the changes he wanted to make there, but he knew they were important to the future of the Abbotts.

Emily was another reason he had to return to Boston: It was the only way he could forget her. Or at least get his feelings under control. It was also the only way he could forget how much he'd enjoyed being back in Texas, on a ranch, on horseback, doing the things he'd said he never wanted to do again.

He looked at the horses in the corral. A couple were lying down, but the rest had bunched along the far side of the corral, looking over the fence like they expected something to come from that direction. He wondered what they heard or smelled. Coyotes, foxes, maybe even a wolf? The piebald broke away from the group and ambled over to him, shoved his head between the rails. Bret obliged by rubbing his forehead. He would miss the cantankerous beast. Unexpectedly, he'd developed a real affection for the horse, who was turning into a good cow pony. Bret thought the piebald's strength and size made him an even better choice for a general mount. More than once, Bret had found himself thinking he'd like to buy the piebald, but it would be cruel to take such a horse to Boston.

Giving the piebald one last affectionate pat on the neck, Bret straightened away from the fence. He was beginning to find answers to his questions, but he didn't like any of them.

Emily couldn't decide where to direct her attention—to Bret, who was deep in thought over something, or
to the incomprehensible relationship that had sprung up between Jinx and Bertie. While clearing up in the kitchen after breakfast, Bertie and Jinx were arguing over where he should sleep. Bertie had made up a temporary bed for him last night on the couch in the great room, but Jinx wanted to sleep in the bunkhouse with the cowhands. Emily sat quietly at the table and watched. Bret sat across from her, drinking coffee, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You're not sleeping in that dirty bunkhouse and then helping me in my kitchen,” Bertie told Jinx.

“I can wash,” Jinx protested.

“You could, but boys like you are allergic to soap and water.”

“I'm not,” Jinx announced with a show of outrage. “I worked in a bathhouse.”

“Did
you
ever use your own soap and water?” Bertie asked.

“Lugo wouldn't let me,” Jinx replied. “He said if I wanted to take a bath, I could use the horse trough.”

Bertie harrumphed. “That's what the men in the bunkhouse use. Now you know why I don't let none of them set foot in my kitchen.”

“But I can't sleep in the big house
and
work in the kitchen,” Jinx wailed. “They'll think I'm a sissy.”

“They'll think what I tell 'em to think,” Bertie announced.

“He's right,” Bret said. “You let a boy stay around a woman too much, and the hands will think he's gone soft.”

“Yeah,” Jinx said, beaming at Bret. “Mr. Nolan knows.”

“That's men all over,” Bertie complained. “They chase wild cows and hang around smelly horses and think that makes them a man. Not a one of them is smart enough to know that being a
real man
is something
that doesn't come off with soap and water. Look at Mr. Nolan,” Bertie said, pointing a finger that looked more like it was accusing Bret than complimenting him. “He takes a bath and sleeps in the big house. You don't see nobody saying he's not a real man.”

“He's a gentleman,” Jinx insisted. “Nobody would expect him to sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Do you want to be a gentleman like Mr. Nolan?” Bertie asked.

Jinx looked flabbergasted. He idolized Bret, but it was clear he didn't think the rules that applied to Bret could also apply to him.

“Isabelle made me sleep in the house, eat at a table with napkins, and wash and change my shirt before I came inside,” Bret said. “But Jake taught me how to ride a horse, wrangle a fifteen-hundred-pound steer, and make my own camp and cook my own supper. As long as you
act
like a man, it won't matter where you sleep.”

It took Jinx a few minutes to digest that. He looked from Bret to Bertie and back to Bret. “If you teach me how to do all those things and let me sleep in your room, nobody will think I'm a sissy for helping Bertie.”

Emily had difficulty suppressing a smile. By giving a little, Jinx hoped to get what he really wanted—to be as close to Bret as possible.

“There's not but one bed in Mr. Nolan's room,” Bertie pointed out.

“I could use your bedroll,” Jinx said, giving Bret his most winning grin.

“If Bret will agree to let you share his room, I think we have a cot you can use,” Emily said.

While Jinx asked Emily about the cot, the smile that had lightened Bret's expression vanished and he
sank back into his earlier frowning silence. She wanted to know what was bothering him, but she was already asking more of him than he wanted to give. But not as much as she wanted from him.

She didn't know if it was love, infatuation, or just happiness at having the attention of a handsome, sophisticated man, but she couldn't get enough of his company. Now she found it hard to imagine how she could ever have thought he was a green tenderfoot. She should have sensed right away he was more than he let himself appear. There was an element of control, of competence, that rode easily on his shoulders.

“I wish Zeke and Hawk didn't have to leave,” Jinx said. “They're a lot nicer than Lonnie,” he said, turning to Emily.

“Lonnie doesn't know what to do with little boys,” Emily said.

“I'm not a little boy!” Jinx exclaimed.

“How hard is it to know you treat a boy just like you would a man?” Bret asked Emily. “With respect.”

She'd made that same mistake with Bret, but he hadn't held it against her.

“I'm going with you to see them off,” Jinx said to Bret.

“You'll do your work for me before you go messing about with horses and cows,” Bertie said, then turned to Bret. “And I'll not have you telling him otherwise.”

She wagged her finger at him, but Emily could tell it didn't have the same emphasis she used when she talked to Lonnie or even her father. Bret had made a conquest of two female hearts without even trying.

“I wouldn't think of it,” Bret said to Bertie, his smile reappearing. “Hurry up, scamp, or they'll leave without either one of us.”

Emily was afraid Jinx would drop a bowl or break a plate in his haste, but he managed to clear the table
without an accident. “I'll fill the woodbox and bring in fresh water as soon as they leave,” he told Bertie. “Can I go now?”

“Don't mess about,” Bertie said. “If Mr. Nolan is going to try to teach you to be a cowhand, he's going to need all the time he can come up with.”

“I'll see he's back well before it's time to help with lunch,” Bret said to Bertie.

“I don't know what that boy's going to do when Mr. Nolan goes back to Boston,” Bertie said, sounding a little sad. She was looking out the window at Jinx as he practically danced alongside Bret. “It won't matter how wonderful those people are he's giving the boy to. They'll never take the place of Mr. Nolan in his eyes.”

Emily wasn't sure what she was going to do, either. She'd promised to go to Galveston to look for a husband because it was the only way she could get out of having to go to Boston, but she knew she'd never find anyone she liked better than Bret. He insisted that people could kiss in friendship, but she was sure his kisses meant a lot more than that. Still, he was going back to Boston. He wanted his life there enough to face certain anger and increased antagonism.