Be My Texas Valentine (25 page)

He leaned back in the saddle and enjoyed the remaining five minutes of their ride. As they neared the stables, Buckey stood proudly outside waiting for them.

After reining his stud to a halt, Hunter dismounted and helped her down.

She planted her feet firmly on the ground and looked up at him with eyes that glowed with a savage inner fire. “Thank you for letting me ride with you back to town. It would’ve been a long walk otherwise.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.” He tipped his hat. It took everything in him to resist taking her into his arms and kissing the daylights out of her.

But the sun always rose on another day!

Hunter watched as she took Buckey’s reins and led him into the shadows of the livery. He tied his horse to the hitching post. As much as he didn’t want to leave her, he knew the blacksmith would take care of her dumbnuts of a horse, and she’d be safe walking the short distance home.

Stepping deeper into the shadows and farther away from the corrals, he pulled out a cheroot and settled against the railing. He kept a watch out until Laurel left the livery and continued keeping an eye on her until she opened the gate and walked up to the Duncan house.

Once he knew she was safely home, he headed in the direction of the Coyote Bluff. Some urgent business waited for him, and he planned to take care of it tonight.

He hoped and prayed Greta Garrett still waited for him, too.

Chapter 8

With a sundry of bewildering thoughts attacking her from all sides, Laurel unlatched the gate to her aunt and uncle’s massive house, which looked like it belonged on a Southern plantation. Taking two steps inside, she glanced back toward the livery.

Once she had turned her back on Hunter and led Buckey inside the blacksmith’s shop, she hadn’t seen the gambling rancher again. All the way home, however, she kept looking back over her shoulder feeling she was being watched. Maybe she was just hoping he’d follow her and ask her to supper or something ... anything to keep her from having to go home. If one could call the cold, unwelcoming structure the Duncans lived in a home.

Soft light filtered through the lace curtains in the study, so she knew her uncle was home and probably still up working.

Instead of entering from the front of the house, she walked to the back and came in through the servants’ entrance. She climbed the stairs with a mixture of emotions at odds with one another. While some demanded that she stay as far away from Hunter as possible, others pled with her to run back and throw herself into his arms. He was certainly a multifaceted man who created complex emotions within her. In a very physical way, he had definitely led her to believe he enjoyed her company. Yet at the same time, he sent her another set of confusing signals.

Her heart recognized they shared an undeniable bond, and had for a lot of years. Her conscience screamed for her to be cautious. Things were not as they seemed.

For the most part, she felt satisfied with how the evening had gone, although it had started out rocky, to say the least. She’d told him the truth about the job offer from his mother, although she’d failed to mention anything about the pressure put upon her to lead the women’s group. Since that was a moot issue, she saw no reason to bring it up. She could have warned him about the posters, but that would be taking sides ... the one thing she was determined not to do. She couldn’t have made it any clearer to Melba Ruth and the Wilson sisters, although she wasn’t certain Pearl had gotten the point, that she refused to take any part in their scheme.

Besides, she had all she could handle with her family.

She pushed open the door to her tiny, airless room with little more than a featherbed, a highboy, and a washstand. A small rocker took up one corner, next to an aged rickety wardrobe, which held all of her belongings.

As late as it was, she’d missed supper—not that it mattered. Maybe the cook had found it in her heart to save Laurel a plate of leftovers, and if so, she’d eat alone in a silent kitchen. She couldn’t afford to purchase another meal out. Her savings were down to very little, since her monthly allowance stopped the moment she graduated. She was fortunate to have made good grades and obtained an internship with the magazine during her final three months of school. It brought in money, although not much.

Right now, getting a job had to be her priority. So far, every time the subject of her going to work at the bank came up, her uncle sloughed it off as being unimportant.

The position Mrs. Campbell offered might well be her only choice, becoming more appealing by the second. She’d have a steady income, it’d be interesting, and she could find a place of her own to live, even if it meant getting a room in a boardinghouse. Ever since she’d been back, she’d been concerned for her aunt’s health, and the thought of moving out and leaving her alone left a taste in her mouth somewhere between rancid lard and sorghum syrup.

If she took the position, she’d have regular run-ins with Hunter. Only a fool would believe she could maintain a relationship with Melba Ruth and not have to do the same with her son. Something that couldn’t be avoided and she’d have to take under careful consideration before making her decision.

Laurel took off the silly hat she’d been wearing all day, and considered tossing it across the room just to see if she could hang it on the coat hook on her first try. What had possessed her to wear it in the first place?

After walking across the tattered rug, which provided little more than faded color in the room, she eased down on the side of the bed. The mattress sank dangerously low beneath her weight. She pulled off the gaudy boots. Again, she wondered why she had gone ahead and worn the stupid-lookin’ things, but then she’d had little choice if she wanted to go riding. Without her knowledge, her cousin had taken Laurel’s only decent pair of boots and hat, leaving the gawd-awful ones for her. She almost smiled thinking how they looked like something a rodeo clown might wear.

She was washing her face with a bar of soap that stung like lye when her bedroom door swung open.

Unceremoniously, her cousin, Victoria, stomped in. A couple of years younger than Laurel, the dumpy, bloodless-looking girl who hadn’t spent more than two hours outdoors in months began bellowing at the top of her lungs.

“Where are my boots and hat?” Her shrill voice sent chills up and down Laurel’s spine.

Taken aback, Laurel whirled toward her cousin. “I, uh, they are right by the bed.”

Victoria rushed over and snatched up the boots and began examining them. “You’re lucky. You didn’t scuff them up any.” She looked around. “And my hat better not have so much as a smudge of dust on it.” She put her hands on her plump hips. “So where did you get the idea you could wear them without asking permission?”

Her cousin had always acted like a spoiled brat, and age had only encouraged the entitlement she seemed to think was rightfully hers.

As angry as Laurel was, she chose her words carefully, knowing whatever she said would be twisted around to benefit Victoria. “I didn’t borrow them. You knew I was going riding and took mine, so I presumed you had left yours for me to wear. You left me with little choice.” Laurel tried to depict a calm she didn’t necessarily feel. “Besides, I bought them in New York—”

“With my father’s money!” Sarcasm laced Victoria’s shrill screech.

“No, with what I earned at the magazine,” Laurel said with deceptive calmness.

“Oh yes, you saved
your
money, but continued to take what Father sent you.” Victoria hurled out the words as if they were stones.

“I’ll have a regular payday soon when I go to work at the bank.”

“You think Father is going to hire you? Maybe to clean the floors or empty the trash, just like your mother used to do, but not anything where the public can see you. You know nothing about fashion, and would probably scare customers away.” Her dark eyes narrowed and she let out an evil, haunting laugh meant to humiliate. “You should hear what others say about you. Why don’t you take better care of yourself? You’re too plain, almost ugly, and wearing riding pants doesn’t help. And Father wants to find you a fitting beau to get you off his hands ... and out of our house as soon as possible.” Every word was calculated and meant to hurt.

Old fears and uncertainties rose within Laurel. A flicker of dread coursed through her.

As if she hadn’t said enough hurtful words, Victoria continued in a chiding tone that angered Laurel beyond belief. “Just so we’re clear, don’t ever touch anything that belongs to me again or you’ll be sorry.” She stalked toward the door, then whirled back. “I can make your life a living hell. Oh, by the way, Father wants to see you immediately.” A twisted, cynical smile spread across Victoria’s plump lips. “And I wouldn’t make him wait, if I were you. He’s not in a good mood, and it’s all because of you.”

She slammed the door behind her, then opened it again to say, “And be quiet. Mother has taken to bed as she’s feeling poorly today.”

Victoria deliberately closed the door louder than before.

Laurel sat back down on the side of the bed. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on her knees and rested her face in her hands. She fought back the few tears that she’d not already shed. She doubted there were any left in her soul.

Why was everything that went wrong in life always her fault? She’d been a good girl, or tried to, but no matter how hard she worked at doing the right thing, something went awry.

For over fifteen years, she’d carried the burden of being the cause of her parents’ death. If only she could express her concerns. Her anger. Her doubts. But then who would believe her?

Why had she come up with the stupid idea to take a ride today anyway? If she’d stayed home like she should have, then she wouldn’t have run into Hunter. Now she was not only caught up in old feelings about the crafty cowman, but had a dilemma with his mother. An issue that seemed to have ripped the town apart. The last thing she needed was to divide what little family she had left.

Now her uncle was angry with her or at least that’s what Victoria wanted her to think.

Laurel walked to the washstand and rinsed her face with cold water. She tied her hair back with a ribbon and changed into a plain brown calico dress.

With as much resolve as she possibly could scurry up, she descended the stairs to the study, being careful to be quiet. She didn’t want to upset her frail Aunt Elizabeth.

Uncle Gideon sat behind his massive oak desk in his well-appointed study fit for a banker. Even as big as the desk was, he dominated every inch of it. Tall, potbellied, with a full beard and sideburns, he looked to some people like a big, wild woolly stuffed into a suit and tie. She couldn’t have described him better herself.

“Shut the door,” he bellowed, without looking up. “So you finally decided to come home.”

Laurel did as she was told, easing the door closed, but took a stance in front of the desk. Determined not to be browbeaten, she folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve been out riding—”

He interrupted, “And sneaking around the Sundance Saloon with those no-good Wilson sisters.” He turned the paper he was writing on face down on the desk. “You were also out at the Campbell place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to get this straight.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a cold, nasty look of displeasure. “As long as you’re living in my house, you will have nothing to do with that woman or her son.”

Fury rocked her. “With all due respect, I’m old enough to decide who I will and won’t be friends with.”

“If you want a place to live, you’d best not let me find out you’re consorting with any of them, especially Melba Ruth Campbell. She’s a troublemaker, and is doing everything she can to ruin our town.” His face was marked with loathing, unnerving Laurel. “She’s little more than a tramp, owning a saloon, cleaning houses for people, and then she thinks she’s good enough to lead a rebellion against the men. I will not allow anyone in my family, or my employment, to associate with rubbish like her. She’s determined to undermine the railroad. I don’t trust that son of hers either.”

“Mrs. Campbell befriended me when nobody else did, and I made it clear that I’m not taking sides on what is best for Farley Springs.”

“Oh, but you are. As long as you’re in my house, eating my food, and wearing the clothes I bought for you, you will do what you’re told, and that includes making certain the railroad comes to town. It’s in your best interest.” His mouth took an unpleasant twist. “This is your one and only warning, so listen up, girl.” His eyes darkened dangerously. “I’m a man of little patience. You’ll do as I say or you will be sorry. Very sorry.”

Laurel had no intentions of being dictated to, and girded herself with resolve, praying for self-control. “I can’t understand how you can have such disdain for Melba Ruth, while supporting her son’s stance on the need for the railroad.”

“That’s the men’s affairs. Good business makes for strange bedfellows. You need to learn your place as a woman. Apparently, all the money I spent on giving you an education went to waste. The only thing you’ll be any good at is staying home, having babies, and trying to make your man happy.” He took a long look at her. “Without a dowry, and with a lot of work, you might find a man who will have you.”

Reality of what the future held sank deep into her stomach. “And the job in the bank you said I could have?”

“I never promised you anything. I simply wrote that there might be something available, but after I’ve seen what tramps you like to associate with, there’s no job for you. Just learn to do women’s things. That’s all you’re fit for,” he replied with contempt that forbade any further argument.

“I am certainly capable of making something of myself and doing a lot of good things with my life.”

“There’s one more thing. I cannot overstate how you must not associate with that rogue gambler who calls himself a businessman and beds any woman who bats her eyes at him. That is, of course, if you haven’t already fallen under his spell and into his bed. We have certain allegiances for business’ sake, but as for you ... you will not so much as speak to him.”