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Authors: Leigh Greenwood

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BOOK: Heart of a Texan
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How did he know she didn’t want to suffocate Nate Dolan? Just because he hadn’t shot her father didn’t mean he wasn’t as responsible as every one of those masked cowards for her father’s death. And where were all those citizens of Slender Creek who were so anxious to help people in trouble? They should have been standing in line to bring food, help clear away the wreckage, to help feed and care for Nate Dolan.

She turned back into the house and closed the door. They were probably afraid to help. This part of Texas was dominated by ranchers. No one wanted to offend them because the town depended on them. Her father’s insistence in farming despite the ranchers’ objections had caused many people to avoid them. Considering the murderous nature of the attack, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was now completely isolated.

That didn’t bother her. What to do about the farm did. She didn’t know if the crops could be saved, but she was determined to put the farm back on its feet. She would not let the ranchers win. The farm would thrive once again.
Then
she would go back to Virginia.

***

Roberta had never been a slacker, but trying to save her crops had forced her to work harder than she had in her whole life. Yet she was grateful—it was the only way she could keep the grief and shock of her father’s death at bay. She could push it aside for a short while, but then it would hit her again with the force of a physical blow. She would never be able to forget the sight of her father sinking to the ground, blood running from between his lips as he died in her arms. What made it even more horrible was the way he’d been shot. It was like an execution, cold and deliberate. Who could have hated her father enough to do something like that?

On the verge of breaking down, she forced her mind back to her work. Another bout of tears would needlessly increase her physical exhaustion. She’d reached emotional exhaustion long ago.

The damage to the crops wasn’t as bad as it first appeared. She was hopeful of being able to save enough to survive. The biggest hurdle was that she had to deal with the problem one plant at a time. Her father had planted more than five acres in corn alone. That didn’t count the beans, tomatoes, squash… the list went on. She was only one person. It was impossible to do all this work alone, but she couldn’t afford to pay anyone to help her. So she reached for the next corn stalk that hadn’t been knocked over, stood it up, and packed dirt around the roots to hold it in place. She tossed the ruined corn aside. She would use it to feed the pigs when they came back…
if
they came back. The two mules had been returned, one by a tongue-tied cowhand, and another by a little boy who said his mama had told him to run it out of her garden.

Roberta felt uncomfortable leaving Nate alone. As much as she resented having to take care of him, she couldn’t square it with her conscience to ignore him. She’d gone to the house every hour to check on him. She didn’t know whether he was still unconscious or just sleeping, but he hadn’t moved all day. If it hadn’t been for the bandage, she would have thought he hadn’t been hurt. It was hard to believe a man who had been shot could look that handsome.

It bothered her that she liked looking at him. She should hate him. But if evil was as handsome as Nate Dolan, no wonder so many people got into trouble.

She reached the end of the row. Standing and stretching her back muscles, she was pleased to see how much corn she’d been able to save. The hooded cowards hadn’t been as successful as she’d thought. She was contemplating how much work she could do before her body gave out when she heard an approaching vehicle. She was dismayed to see Prudence Goodfellow driving the small trap she used when she went anywhere. It was pulled by a shaggy-haired pony that remained a curiosity in the eyes of the children in Slender Creek.

“I would have come sooner, but I’ve been over Sligo way taking care of Mrs. Wingate. She’s down with a fever and no one to look after her brood.” Prudence eyed the damage to the cornfield. “Wicked.” She shook her head. “Just plain wicked, but your pa knew what would happen if he rebuilt that dam.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” Prudence was the soul of kindness, but her opinions—delivered in her forthright manner—often made that hard to remember.

“No, it doesn’t,” Prudence agreed as she climbed out of the trap. “You look exhausted. You have no business doing all this work yourself. There ought to be dozens of people from town helping you.”

“Mrs. Pender brought some soup, but no one else has come by.”

“I’ll take care of that as soon as I get back to town,” Prudence declared. “Now it’s time for you to rest. Let me walk you up to the house.”

Roberta would have liked nothing better than to go back to the house, collapse in a chair, and not move for hours, but she didn’t dare as long as Prudence was here. If that straitlaced woman found out there was a man in her house, she was likely to move in to protect Roberta’s honor. It didn’t matter that Nate was unable to sit up in bed. He was a man, and his mere presence was a danger that must be guarded against.

“I can’t stop,” Roberta told Prudence. “Everything I have is in these fields. If I don’t save every plant I can, I’ll be broke.”

“Why should that matter? You’ve always said you intended to go back to Virginia. There’s nothing to keep you here now.” Prudence didn’t approve of Virginia. It was too far north and too proud of its past.

Roberta massaged a muscle that had been throbbing for the last hour. “I’ve got two things to keep me here. First, I intend to find out who killed my father.”

“It had to be the work of vagrants,” Prudence said. “No one from Slender Creek would do anything like this.”

“It was the ranchers. I just don’t know which one pulled the trigger.”

Prudence didn’t look happy. “What’s your other reason for staying?”

“To get this farm working again. I’m determined to show them they can’t drive me out. What kind of coward would I be if I ran away?”

“A sensible one.”

Roberta didn’t know why that struck her as funny, but she laughed. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like it would dishonor my father if I left.”

Prudence looked at the charred remains of the barn, glanced over the devastated fields, then back at Roberta. “You can’t do all of this yourself.”

“I can’t pay anyone to help me.”

“There’s lots of kids in town with nothing to do.”

“You know people are afraid of helping me for fear of what the ranchers might do. If lightning had struck the barn, they’d have a new one up by tomorrow. As it is, they won’t touch it.”

Patience surveyed the damage. “It’s just wicked.”

Roberta thought having someone agree with her would help. Instead, it just made her feel tired. “I don’t mean to run you off, but I’ve got a lot of work to do while it’s still daylight.”

“I’ll help you. There’s not a man in this county who would dare lay a hand on me.”

She was probably right. Except for Joe, every man Roberta knew was scared to death of Prudence.

“If you want to do something for me, you can make the arrangements for my father’s funeral tomorrow.”

“I’ll be happy to. What time do you want it?”

“In the morning. I don’t know that anybody will come, but it should be before it gets too hot.”

“I’ll see to it. I’ll also see that everybody in town is present.”

“I don’t want people there saying things they don’t mean.”

“They’ll be there, and they’ll mean it. Now I have to go if I’m going to make sure all the arrangements are done properly.”

Roberta didn’t say any more. It was nearly impossible to dissuade Prudence once she made up her mind. Besides, Roberta had more than enough to worry about. She turned to start on the next row of corn. She hoped to get the field done before it was time to fix supper.

***

Nate wasn’t sure whether he’d woken up or regained consciousness. It probably didn’t matter. His mind was fuzzy, his vision was blurred, his body hurt, and he had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was seeing what he thought was a fire. He must have gone to help. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember whether he’d found the fire, or what he’d done after he got there.

Exhaustion gripped his body. He felt incapable of lifting his arm, even turning his head, but he was thirty-one years old and supposed to be in his prime. He’d just spent two weeks in the saddle trying to cross the trail of Laveau diViere. He couldn’t be incapable of sitting up.

But he was. What had happened, and why did his chest feel like it was in a vise?

He turned his head to the left and then the right. He was in a small but well-furnished bedroom. It appeared to be a man’s bedroom, but it wasn’t his bedroom or one he recognized. The walls were without pictures or decoration, their monotony broken up by two doors and a window. The blank spaces in-between were taken up by pieces of furniture and hooks on which hung coats, hats, shirts, even a pair of saddlebags.

He listened intently, but he couldn’t hear any sound. As much as the mystery of where he was and why he was there unsettled him, he felt safe. Whatever had happened, someone was taking care of him. He would stop looking for answers just now. He needed to rest more. Maybe then he could sit up.

***

Her father had always said that after a productive day, he felt great even if he was so tired he could hardly stand up. Roberta was so exhausted after a productive day, she felt like she was going to die. She was too tired to think. She was even too tired to be hungry. After she’d checked on Nate, it had taken what remained of her flagging energy to clean up and drag herself to a rocking chair on the front porch. Now all she wanted to do was soak up the cool of the evening, until she could summon the energy to drag her tired body to bed.

A light breeze provided a refreshing contrast to the heat of the day. The sun had set, but it would be light for about another hour. Swallows darted through the air in their erratic flight to catch insects. She suspected some of the airborne predators were bats. She didn’t like bats, but they were certainly more welcome than the man driving an approaching buckboard. She recognized Nate’s foreman long before he reached the house. If Nate was said to be built along the lines of a greyhound, then Russ McCoy was modeled after a bulldog. There wasn’t a man in three counties with shoulders that wide or a neck so thick.

“What do you want?” she asked when Russ brought the buckboard to a stop.

“I’ve come to take Nate home.”

“What took you so long?”

“I didn’t know he was here. Hell, I didn’t even know he had come back until Gill Pender told me his wife had taken some beef broth to you for him.”

“If you know that much, you know the doctor said he can’t be moved. I’m not going to have people saying I was so anxious to get rid of him I killed him.”

Russ had gotten down from the buckboard and come up to the porch. He was probably an inch or two shorter that Nate, but his bulk made him look bigger. It was said half the men in Slender Creek stayed out of his way, but Roberta wasn’t intimidated. She was too tired.

“Taking him home can’t be half as dangerous as leaving him here with no one but you to look after him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past you to poison him. If I thought you could hit the broad side of a barn, I’d swear you were the one who shot him.”

“If I had, it would have been no more than he deserved for being one of the cowards who murdered my father.”

“Nate thought your father was a fool for rebuilding that dam—I heard him say that to your father’s face—but he would never be part of what happened last night. I don’t know how he came to be here. He’s been off hunting Laveau diViere.”

“If your boss is so anxious to kill diViere that he goes looking for him, why should he hesitate to shoot a farmer using water he thinks of as his own?”

“DiViere is a traitor who killed Nate’s brother. Your father was just a fool.” Russ didn’t appear to care that it was considered uncivil to criticize a dead man, especially to his daughter.

“The doctor will tell you when you can take your boss home. I’ll do everything I can to make sure he survives his stay here. After that, I intend to see that every man involved in the attack hangs.”

“They were masked. How can you know who they were?”

“I’ll find out.” She didn’t know how, but she didn’t intend to give up until she did.

“I’m not leaving until I see the boss.”

“He’s sleeping.”

“How can I know that without seeing for myself?”

Roberta wasn’t sure she could summon the energy to get to her feet, but somehow she managed. “Okay, one look. Then I want you out of my house and off my land.”

An agitated voice was heard from inside the house. “Russ, get your butt in here before that woman kills me.”

Chapter Three

Every vestige of civility left Russ’s face. “What have you done to him?”

“Nothing.” Roberta couldn’t understand why Nate would make such an accusation. “Every time I’ve looked in on him, he’s been sleeping.”

Russ pushed by Roberta to go inside. “Where is he?”

“In my father’s bedroom.”

The house was built in an “L” pattern with a bedroom, parlor, and bedroom across the front. Behind the bedroom on the left were the dining room and kitchen, both of which opened onto a porch that could also be reached from the parlor. Russ covered the distance to her father’s bedroom in half the steps it took Roberta. When she reached the bedroom, Nate lifted his arm and pointed at her.

“Why did you shoot me?”

Roberta wasn’t ready to admit she’d shot Nate, but his blunt accusation threw her off stride. “I… you… who says I shot you?”

“I do.” Nate was emphatic. “I saw you pick up a gun and aim it at me.”

“If you know that, then you know why I shot you.”

“I can’t remember everything that happened, but I remember seeing what I thought was a fire. When I got here, it looked like there were men all over the place trying to put it out. It was so dark I couldn’t see their faces, but the clouds parted just enough for me to see you bending over somebody. That’s when you picked up the gun and shot me.”

“You got some of it right, but you missed the important parts. You did see a fire, but they were building it up, not trying to put it out. Men were all over the place because they were riding through my father’s fields. You saw me bending over my father. He’d just been killed by one of the men whose faces you didn’t recognize because they were wearing hoods. I shot at the first man I saw because I was hysterical with grief and shaking with rage. I wanted to kill every man who rode here that night. Oh, I almost forgot. They blew a hole in the dam.”

“I didn’t come here to blow up the dam, destroy crops, burn the barn, or kill your father,” Nate insisted. “I don’t know anything about what happened. I’ve been gone.”

“I know. You’ve been looking for a man you intend to kill on sight. So of course you wouldn’t do anything to hurt a man who was stealing
your
water.”

Nate struggled to sit up but failed. “I thought your father was making a mistake, and I told him so, but I wouldn’t shoot him or blow up his dam.”

“Then why were you with those men?”

“I wasn’t. Didn’t you say they were wearing masks? Well, I wasn’t.”

That had been bothering Roberta all day, but she wasn’t ready to back down yet. “Maybe you took it off so you could see better. Maybe you didn’t think I would recognize you. Maybe you think you’re so rich and powerful it wouldn’t matter if I did. Who’d take the word of a mere woman against that of the most important rancher in the county?”

“I’m taking you home,” Russ said to Nate.

“I’m not the most important rancher,” Nate objected.

“You’re the richest with the largest ranch. Who else would you recommend?”

“Can you sit up?” Russ asked Nate.

“Do you think I’d be flat on my back if I could?”

“I can carry you to the buckboard.”

“You can’t move him,” Roberta insisted. “He’d never survive the trip back to his ranch.”

“He has a better chance than surviving your care.”

“I’m not a murderer.”

“You shot him. It’s a miracle he didn’t die.”

“I wasn’t trying to shoot
him
,” Roberta clarified. “I just shot
at
somebody.”

“A distinction I find hard to appreciate,” Nate muttered.

“Well, it’s a distinction nonetheless. If I’d known it was you trying to kill my father, I’d have shot you because I wanted to shoot
you
. Not that I would have hit you,” she added. “I’ve never touched a gun in my life. I didn’t think I’d actually hit anybody.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill your father,” Nate insisted. “I didn’t even know where he was.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“We don’t believe
you
,” Russ said. “Now move so I can get the boss out of your house.”

“No one is moving my patient anywhere until I say so.”

Roberta hadn’t heard the doctor enter the house. He elbowed Russ aside.

“Why are you arguing like children when the man ought to be sleeping? You want to set his recovery back a week?”

“Not by so much as a minute,” Roberta declared. “I can’t wait to get him out of my house.”

“I’m in total agreement,” Russ growled.

“Then you’ll go home and take care of his ranch,” the doctor said to Russ. “And you,” he said, turning to Roberta, “will fetch the broth Mrs. Pender sent. This man must be starving by now.”

Roberta fled the room, embarrassed at having been caught in a pointless argument. She knew it was fueled by guilt. She hadn’t really wanted anyone dead. Her guilt was made worse by the suspicion that Nate might be telling the truth. There was one other thing she couldn’t understand. One of the men cleaning up after the attack had found two hats for Nate. Whoever heard of a man wearing two hats? She was too emotionally exhausted to sort through everything. Just thinking of her father’s brutal murder made her want to punish every man within ten miles of Slender Creek. In one way or another, they’d all contributed to his death.

Realizing she was about to be overcome with grief, she pushed those thoughts aside and reached for the broth she’d kept warm on the stove. She ladled some into a bowl and hurried back to the bedroom.

Nate was sitting up when she returned. The doctor had removed the bandages and was inspecting the wound. “Feed him,” he ordered without looking up.

Russ reached for the bowl. “I’ll do it.”

“Let Roberta do it,” the doctor said. “Men like you are good in the saddle, but you can’t feed yourselves without making a mess.”

Roberta grinned at Russ’s startled protests. Even Nate managed a faint smile.

“Open your mouth,” Roberta told Nate. “I don’t want to be accused of being as messy as a man.”

“What is that?” Nate demanded as soon as he’d managed to swallow. “It tastes like water.”

“It’s a nourishing beef broth,” the doctor said.

“I’m wounded, not dying,” Nate protested. “Put some actual beef in it.”

“You’ll eat nothing solid until tomorrow,” the doctor said.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You have a low-grade fever, your wound is still draining, and you can’t sit up without help. Swallow all that broth then see if you can sleep through the night. Feed him more in the morning,” the doctor said to Roberta. “Feed him the same at midday. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Depending on how he’s doing, maybe he can have some solid food.”

“When can I take him home?” Russ wanted to know.

“I can’t say,” the doctor replied. “But if you want to make it longer, keep arguing over him.”

Russ seemed angry at the doctor’s strictures on their behavior, but Roberta was chagrined. She didn’t have to like Nate Dolan, she didn’t even have to believe him, but she did have to behave in a manner she could respect.

“Let me know when he can eat real food,” Russ said. “I’ll see he has three hot meals a day as long as he’s stuck here.”

“I can feed him,” Roberta said.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work,” Russ sneered.

Nate opened his mouth to say something, and Roberta filled it with broth.

“Smart girl,” the doctor said with a grin. “You,” he said to Russ, “out of here now. I know you’re trying to take care of your boss—from what I hear he’s too good for that rascally bunch you call cowhands—but you’re just causing needless anxiety. Send someone else with those meals. I expect you’ve got plenty of work to keep you busy. You,” he said to Roberta, “make sure he eats a full bowl of broth at each meal. You can check on him occasionally, but leave him alone to get as much rest as possible. You,” he said turning to Nate, “are to ignore both of them and concentrate on getting well. Now I have to go. I have other patients who actually deserve my attention.”

The doctor left quickly, taking Russ with him, which left Roberta facing Nate with what was left of the bowl of broth.

“You’re going to make me eat the rest of it, aren’t you?” he asked.

“You heard the doctor.”

“He’s gone.”

“But I’m here, and I intend to make sure no one can say I didn’t do everything I could to make you well. Now eat.”

“No wonder you’re not married. Any husband of yours would be so henpecked he wouldn’t have a thought to call his own.”

“The man I marry will love me so much he’ll be eager to do anything he can to make me happy.”

“You’re not looking for a man. You’re looking for a slave.”

“I’ll post a notice in town tomorrow.” She shoved a spoonful of broth into Nate’s mouth before he could reply.

***

Gilbert Travis cursed in three languages. “Why couldn’t the damned woman shoot straight?” he demanded. “That would have been a perfect solution.”

“Did you know Dolan was going to be there?”

“Would I have had you drop his hat if I did? Would I have wasted time shooting that foolish farmer?”

He thought it was wiser not to answer. He wished he’d never gotten involved with Travis. It was becoming clear he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He was uneasy about his own safety once he was no longer useful. He suspected Travis had no use for those who worked for him once their usefulness was over.

“Are you sure he’s in her house?”

“Yes.”

“He won’t have the good sense to die from his injury, so I’ll have to think of something else…”

***

Despite being so tired she could hardly move, Roberta couldn’t sleep. She’d checked on Nate twice that evening, and his temperature still hadn’t gone down. Now he was talking in his sleep, which meant he was having a bad dream or was delirious.

Groaning from the effort, she got out of bed. Modesty caused her to put on a robe, though she couldn’t say why she was worried about a man who wouldn’t know she was there. He probably wouldn’t care. A man as handsome and rich as Nate Dolan had probably been with enough women to populate a small town. He certainly had shown no signs of being impressed by her. Not that she wanted to impress him. She wouldn’t have been interested if she’d been positive he had nothing to do with her father’s death.

Locating the matches she kept near her bedside, she lit her lamp. She settled the globe over the lamp and left her room. Her bare feet made soft plopping sounds on the wood floor of the parlor. Turning the flame down as low as possible, she entered her father’s bedroom.

She could tell right away Nate’s temperature hadn’t gone down. He was restless. His lips looked chapped, his skin unnaturally dry. Despite the restrictive bandage, he’d managed to throw off the sheet. Only his legs below his knees were covered. Roberta didn’t need to turn up the flame in her lamp to know she was looking at a nearly perfect male body.

For a moment, shock held her motionless. She was familiar with the basics of male anatomy, but she’d never been exposed to one so openly. There was nothing to keep her from staring as long as she wanted. No one to tell her that a
nice
woman would avert her gaze until she had replaced the sheet. No one to tell her that a
nice
woman wouldn’t want to look at a man’s body, not even if that man were her husband.

Despite her desire to prolong the pleasure of looking at Nate, Roberta reached for the sheet. As she did so, her hand brushed against Nate’s knee. She had never given any thought to the aesthetics of a man’s knee—she couldn’t remember that she’d ever seen one—but Nate’s knee held a fascination all out of proportion to its humble position on the body. Maybe because it connected a well-rounded calf to a powerful thigh. Most likely it was the scar that ran from above his knee halfway down his calf. At one time, Nate had been seriously injured.

Even though she was quick to pull the sheet up to his shoulders, it was impossible not to take note of what rested between his legs. It was almost as frightening as it was impressive. It was safer to concentrate on his broad chest and muscled shoulders. Safer, but not nearly as titillating.

She chastised herself for taking such unfair advantage of Nate, but she knew she would do it again. What unsettled her even more was how much she
wanted
to do it again. She forced her fingers to release the sheet before sheer impulse made her lower it again.

Only hours before she’d said she wouldn’t have cared if he had died. Now she was struggling to prevent unwelcome images from springing to vivid life in her mind. Taking a deep breath to slow her heart rate and decrease the tension in her shoulders, she leaned against the wall for support. She was here because Nate was feverish. Nothing else was important. She’d never been interested in Nate despite his looks, his money, and his popularity. She wasn’t about to change now.

Feeling more in control, she pushed off from the wall and moved to the side of the bed. She placed her hand on Nate’s forehead. He was hot. Too hot. She needed to bring his temperature down. She left the bedroom and returned shortly with a basin of water she’d drawn from the well. Setting the basin on a table next to the bed, she drew up a chair. She soaked a cloth in water, wrung most of it out, folded the cloth, and placed it on Nate’s forehead.

Nate moaned and threw his head to one side. Roberta dipped the cloth in water and applied it to his forehead again. Over the next several minutes she repeated the motion until the water in the basin had become lukewarm. When she returned from the second trip to get water, Nate had pushed the sheet down to his waist. Having gotten herself under control, she decided to leave it there.

When she put the compress on his forehead, he pushed it away. She put it back and held it in place when he pushed at it again.

“Caleb.”

Roberta didn’t know who Nate was talking about. She didn’t know anyone named Caleb.

“No! No!”

Nate became more and more agitated. When she tried to hold the cloth in place, he pushed her so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. He stopped fighting as abruptly as he started. Moments later, tears rolled down his cheeks. His lips formed words she couldn’t decipher. He seemed to withdraw into himself, sink deeper into the bed.

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