A Texan's Honor (5 page)

“You still in there?” the boy asked.

“Where else would I be?”

“Nobody's ever stayed in there this long.”

“Are you planning to charge me extra?”

“I got another customer who don't want to wait.”

Bret reluctantly climbed out of the metal tub and began to dry off. “I'll be out in a few minutes,” he said. He put his suit on over the fresh underclothes, put his feet in his shoes without socks, gathered up his clothes and the wet towel, and opened the door.

“You got to pour out your water,” Jinx said.

“I'll do it,” said an impatient man who appeared to be around forty and was lean and well muscled. “I can't spend all night in this place.” He disappeared into the bath without a backward glance.

“That'll be two dollars,” Jinx told Bret.

Bret handed him four. “The other two are for you. I want you scrubbed from head to toe and at my hotel room tomorrow morning at six to help me carry down my luggage.”

Jinx was staring at the money in his hand. “He won't believe I didn't steal it.”

“Who won't believe you didn't steal it?”

“My boss.”

“If he has any questions, tell him to see me. Now don't forget. Six o'clock.”

“I don't like him,” Lonnie said to Emily. “If you'll take my advice, you'll send him straight back to Boston.”

“Neither of us has to like him,” she said as she checked the table. She wanted to show Mr. Nolan that people in Texas knew just as much about how to set a table as anybody in Boston. “We just have to put up
with him until he's convinced I don't mean to leave Texas.”

“We ought to be spending our time worrying about the ranch, not babysitting some dude,” Lonnie said. “The rustling has gotten worse since your pa got sick.”

“Then you should have stayed home.”

“Your father wouldn't hear of you traveling alone. Neither would I.”

“That's all beside the point now. I don't expect Mr. Nolan will get in our way once we're back at the ranch, so we can devote our full attention to the rustling. I don't want anybody thinking I'm going to allow my father to be robbed blind just because he's sick.”

But her father was dying, and she was afraid everybody knew it.

“Do you think he'll show up?” Lonnie asked.

“Mr. Nolan? Sure. He was as cross as a castrated bull by the time he got off the train, but I get the feeling Mr. Nolan doesn't like to fail.”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“If that's Mr. Nolan,” she said to Lonnie, “let him in.”

She didn't want Mr. Nolan to think she'd been the least bit interested in whether he showed up or not. She heard him and Lonnie exchange greetings, heard his footsteps draw near as he entered the room. But when she turned to greet him, the face she saw nearly took her breath away.

Bret Nolan had looked good when he got off the train. Now he looked fabulous and smelled just as good. Lonnie was wrinkling his nose, but Emily thought it was wonderful that a handsome man was unafraid of a bath and a little cologne.

“I hope I'm on time,” Mr. Nolan said.

“To the minute. You must have been standing outside waiting for the clock to chime.” He smiled, and she decided two weeks might not be enough to get used to that.

“Please call me Bret. ‘Mr. Nolan' makes me wonder if my boss is looking over my shoulder.”

His raven hair was perfectly combed, his cheeks freshly shaved, and his suit recently pressed. His shirt was so crisp and his tie so expertly managed, he looked as if he'd spent an hour getting dressed.

“After the way I behaved this afternoon, I wouldn't have been surprised if you were hoping I didn't show up. I have to apologize for being so badly out of temper.”

“I'm sure it was a long journey, and you were tired. In any case, Jem isn't here yet. He's one of my father's cowhands.”

As if aware his name had been mentioned, the door opened and Jem entered, looking so uncomfortable in his new suit Emily had to struggle to keep from laughing.

“Sorry I'm late, ma'am,” Jem said to Emily, “but I near'bout couldn't figure out how to get these clothes done up proper. I had to get the clerk to show me how to fix this dratted tie.”

“Since we're all here, why don't we eat?” Emily didn't think she could hold back her laughter much longer. Jem was a top hand, but his best friend was his horse.

Lonnie took an instant dislike to Bret that grew stronger and more noticeable as the minutes passed at the dinner table. He glared at Bret as though he expected him to attempt to kidnap Emily and carry her off to Boston by force. When he spoke to Bret, he practically growled. Poor Jem was so uncomfortable with his clothes, and eating at a table with settings that confused and terrified him, he was unable to talk at all. He barely managed to eat.

Bret, on the other hand, acted as though there were nothing unusual about the evening.

“You won't believe who was managing the wash house,” he said after they'd discussed the weather, the state of recovery in Texas after the end of Reconstruction, the state of the cattle industry, and the smallness of Fort Worth compared to Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. “The urchin who carried my suitcase this afternoon. It turns out his name is Jinx.”

“If it's the bath run by that cheating Lugo Cates, he wouldn't get any business if it wasn't one of only two
baths in Fort Worth,” Lonnie said. “The water's cold even in summer.”

“I talked Jinx into heating it up a little.”

“How'd you do that?”

“I paid extra.”

“He conned you because you're a city slicker,” Lonnie said.

“I expect your Lugo Cates will get the money, not Jinx.”

“I think it's fine you're so interested in the boy's welfare,” Emily said, “but I'd really like to hear your reasons for thinking I should move to Boston.”

Having finished his meal, Bret laid his fork on his plate and took a swallow of wine. “No doubt your father has given you more than enough reason.”

Jem hadn't touched his wine, instead had eyed it like it was alive and might possibly harm him. Lonnie had taken several swallows, but he couldn't hide a grimace

“My father's reasons are based primarily on emotion.” Emily watched Bret over the rim of her own wineglass. “You're a businessman who makes decisions based on logic and pragmatic consideration of the facts. You don't know me, so emotion won't affect your reasoning.”

“That's not quite true,” Bret said. “It's impossible to look at a lovely woman without feeling emotion.”

Emily was aware of a flash of irritation. “I hadn't expected you to be a purveyor of empty flattery.”

Something appeared briefly in his eyes, but there wasn't enough light in the room for Emily to read his expression clearly.

“I'm told you're very fond of horses,” he said.

“I love my horses.”

“Can you look at a particularly beautiful mare or a powerful stallion without feeling any emotion?”

Emily was forced to smile. “I grant you that point. I have the feeling you'd probably be more moved by the sight of a beautiful ship than by me.”

“I don't know who's been maligning my character,” Bret said, “but you wrong me.”

Bret was obviously on his best behavior. It was tempting to forget Boston and enjoy the company of a handsome man who seemed willing to flatter her, but knowing Lonnie was watching her with disapproval and Jem in total bewilderment made that impossible.

“I expect your character is very fine. Since you're neither my father nor a relative, I'm sure you'll see the question from a different perspective.”

Bret's smile was faint. “But you have no intention of being swayed by my argument.”

She returned his faint smile. “None whatsoever.”

Against her will, she was becoming more and more intrigued by this man. He gave every appearance of being intelligent and ambitious, energetic and confident. Yet she was sure he was under a lot of pressure to bring her—or at least her twenty-five percent of the company—safely back to Boston.

Bret pushed his chair away from the table, picked up his wine, and looked at it through the light. “There are several obvious reasons,” he began, his gaze still on the wine. “The most obvious is your safety.”

“I have a half dozen men to protect me.”

“You'll have more domestic servants than that in Boston, and they won't have to contend with thieves and murderers.”

“You've got more than enough thieves and murderers in Boston,” Lonnie growled.

“Not where Emily would be living. In any case, you'd have the police available if you needed them.”

“The boys and I can protect Miss Abercrombie,”
Lonnie said. “We don't need no fancy police, do we, Jem?”

Jem shook his head, but his eyes said he'd lost whatever hold he had on the drift of the argument.

“You would have servants to do the housework, and plenty of free time for yourself,” Bret said.

“I can have both right now if I wanted them.”

“There's one thing you can't have, no matter how much you want it.”

“And what's that?”

“Plenty of female company to go shopping with you and to spend a cold and rainy afternoon in a cozy parlor talking over the latest events.”

Was that what he thought she was, a silly female interested in nothing but pretty clothes and pointless gossip? “I have little interest in shopping and none in gossip.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said.

She could almost feel him smile, like a snake that knew it had its helpless prey cornered. Only he didn't have her cornered, and she would take great pleasure over the next few days making that clear to him.

“My grandmother assures me a woman can never be too careful in the choice of her clothes,” Bret said. “She also assures me that a woman of intelligence—a woman such as yourself—appreciates the opportunity to discuss the events of the world around her. We have several newspapers that bring the world to us on a daily basis. Out here, world events can come and go before you even hear of them.”

“Your point is well taken,” Emily admitted grudgingly, “but I have little need of anything except the most serviceable garments. As for the great events of the world, I'll leave that to the men who are in a position to be familiar with the matters at stake.”

Their conversation was halted when two men came
to clear the table. Jem made use of the interruption to excuse himself. Emily poured coffee for herself and Lonnie, but Bret sampled the brandy, found it acceptable, and poured some into his glass.

“Are you ready to resume our discussion?” she asked.

Bret looked surprised. “You know all the advantages as well as I do. Why do you want me to waste the evening naming them?”

“What you choose to think an advantage will give me a better understanding of your character.”

He took a sip of brandy. “Why should you be interested in my character?”

“I have to have a good opinion of your character before I can put any confidence in your arguments.”

Bret set his brandy down and met her gaze. “I think you're trying to preview all my arguments so you can defend yourself against them.”

“I don't have to
defend
myself.”

She didn't like it when he smiled as if he had a secret.

“I'll give you one more reason and then I'm done for the evening,” Bret said. “You'll have a much wider choice of men when picking your husband, the man who'll become the manager of your property and the father of your children.”

“I'm not sure I want to get married.”

Bret took a large swallow of brandy. “That would be a great waste.”

She supposed he meant it as a compliment, but somehow it felt as if she were a commodity being evaluated for her usefulness in producing children.

“Since you no longer wish to talk about Boston, why don't you tell me something about yourself?”

“I'd much rather you tell me why you're so anxious to stay in Texas.”

“I'd rather show you.”

Much to her surprise, he swallowed the remainder of his brandy and got to his feet. “Then I'll leave you to rest for the journey tomorrow. Is our departure time still set for seven?”

“Yes.”

“Good night, and thank you for a fine dinner.”

“He's got his nerve,” Lonnie said after the door closed behind Bret.

“I have a feeling he's got a good deal more than that,” Emily said. “I think I'll take his advice and go to bed. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“He'll be cross-eyed before noon.”

“That's what I thought at first, but I have a feeling there's more to Mr. Nolan than we know.”

“He's a damned dandy,” Lonnie said with a snort. “You saw how he was dressed, and smelling like a whore in August. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that.”

“I thought he looked very nice. Smelled nice, too. Still . . .” She didn't know what it was. Maybe it was his quiet confidence, the way his gaze never wavered, the way he always seemed to be one step ahead of her.

She was used to men who were so unsettled by being around an attractive woman, they fell all over themselves to please her. They were an open book. Bret, on the other hand, was a closed book with a lock to make sure she didn't see anything he didn't want her to see.

“After a week at the ranch, he'll be so anxious to get back to Boston he won't care whether you go with him or not.” Lonnie grinned as he prepared to go to his room. “I can't wait to see him try to walk after a day in the saddle. He'll probably have to sleep standing up.”

As Emily closed the door behind Lonnie, she was surprised to find she wasn't the least bit inclined to smile at the thought of a saddle-sore Bret. She almost
hoped he'd prove Lonnie wrong. He was probably a reasonably nice man. Being sent to Texas to convince a reluctant heiress to move to Boston had reduced him to the status of an errand boy, and no man could be expected to like that.