Heart of a Texan (6 page)

Ignore him, maybe. Forget he was there, impossible. In the few hours she’d been around him, Roberta had learned that Nate wasn’t the kind of man a woman forgot. Refuse to talk to him, look at him, or build unreasonable daydreams, that was all possible. Refuse to remember his voice, forget his smile, or be unaware of the physical magnetism that emanated from him, that was impossible.

She wasn’t sure what exactly it was about him that intrigued her so much. Sure, he was handsome, but she was discovering there was more to him than he let people see. The biggest question was: would he ever want a normal life enough to give up his obsession with Laveau diViere?

She couldn’t respect someone who would dedicate his life to the pursuit and death of another man. But the fact remained that Nate Dolan had unsettled her life, and it wasn’t merely because he was occupying her father’s bedroom.

Feeling confined in the house, Roberta left the kitchen and went out the back. The sun had set, but the sky was a deep blue. The coming darkness settled over the tomatoes, corn, and other vegetables, concealing much of the damage done by the attackers. A few more days and she and Joe would have done all they could to save her father’s crops. Her body ached from the bending and twisting. Her skin was tender from the vigorous scrubbing required to remove all traces of dirt and stains. Her nails were chipped and cracked, her skin dry and tight, but she felt good. She had worked hard, but her reward was in front of her. Now the farm’s survival depended on whether she could sell everything before it rotted in the field.

Boone Riggins was her father’s best customer, but people from Slender Creek, as well as the ranchers, had bought their produce in the past. She didn’t know if they would buy from her this year.

She wondered if Nate would help by buying to feed his own crew and encouraging others to buy from her. She had shot him. She had virtually accused him of being a killer. What had she done to encourage him to support her?

Nothing.

She walked to the well less than ten feet from the back door. Had Joe remembered to water the mules, cow, and chickens? She lifted the bucket from its hook and lowered it into the well. When she heard it splash bottom, she waited a few seconds then pulled it up. It always amazed her that a full bucket of water could weigh so much. By the time she reached the temporary pen Joe had built, she was out of breath. The quickness with which the animals thrust their noses into the trough after she poured the water told her Joe hadn’t watered them. By the time she had taken a second bucket to the mules and cow and one to the chickens, she was exhausted.

The chicken coop showed little damage from the attack, but half of the barn would have to be pulled down. Its charred timbers, some silhouetted against the evening sky at angles never intended by its builder, were like skeletal remains. The acrid smell of smoke permeated the light evening breeze. Gazing at the barn, she felt like she was attending a wake. She didn’t know where she’d find the money to replace it. She’d probably have to be satisfied with the remnant that was left.

She wouldn’t worry about that tonight. She was tired and ready for bed. She hoped Nate’s guard would arrive soon. She didn’t want to sit up late, and she didn’t want to wake up to let him in. She took her time walking back to the house, but he still hadn’t arrived by the time she’d locked up, washed up the kitchen, and gone to her bedroom. She changed into her nightgown and put on a robe, but he still hadn’t arrived. She’d have to talk to Russ and make him understand that the guards had to arrive at times convenient for her. Probably mealtimes. That way Nate’s food wouldn’t get cold.

She was trying to decide whether to leave the chicken on the stove or put it away when she heard a gunshot in the distance. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered her. Ranchers were constantly hunting coyotes and wolves. But because of the attack, she was instantly alarmed. She rushed to the parlor window but couldn’t see anyone. A second shot. Was it closer, or was it just her imagination?

She hurried to Nate’s bedroom and slowly opened the door. He stirred but seemed to be sleeping. He spoke when she turned to leave.

“Probably some cowhand hunting coyotes.”

“That’s what I thought. Go back to sleep. Your guard should be here soon.”

She closed the door, but before she reached her bedroom, she heard the distant sound of a galloping horse. And it was a hard gallop, the kind that implied real danger. The rider was headed toward her farm. Unsure of what to do, she got her father’s shotgun down from its pegs and positioned herself at the window.

Moments later a rider materialized out of the night. He rode straight for the house, leapt off his horse, ran up the steps, and pounded on the door.

“Let me in,” he called. “Russ McCoy sent me. I’m the boss’s guard for the night.”

Roberta unlocked the door then stepped back. “The door is open, but you’d better be who you say you are. I’m holding a shotgun.” The man didn’t have to know she’d never fired one.

A young man burst through the door, slammed it shut, and locked it.

“Why were you in such a hurry?” Roberta asked. “Did it have anything to do with the shots I heard?”

“You’re damned right it did. Someone was trying to kill me.”

“Are you sure?” Roberta asked.

“I thought the first shot might have been an accident.” He removed his hat and poked a finger through a small hole in the crown. “When the second went through my hat, I knew it was no mistake.”

“Why would anyone want to kill you?”

“Beats me. But I ain’t stepping outside that door until my relief comes with the boss’s breakfast. And I ain’t coming here again unless it’s broad daylight.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry for forgetting my manners, ma’am, but I ain’t used to being shot at. My name’s Grady. I’ll be taking the night shift ’cause Russ says I can never go to sleep anyways.” Now that he had time to notice Roberta was holding a shotgun pointed at him, he turned skittish. “You mind putting that up? I don’t hold with shotguns since my uncle dropped his and nearly took my Pappy’s head off.”

“Sorry.” Roberta had forgotten all about the shotgun. “I didn’t dare open the door without being able to protect myself.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re taking good care of the boss. Where’s his room?”

She pointed to the far end of the parlor. “It’s over there. You can talk to him, feed him some more supper if he wants, but the doctor said you had to sleep out here. He doesn’t want anything to disturb Nate’s rest.”

Grady looked around. “I don’t see no bed.”

“That’s because there isn’t one. You’ll have to sleep on the sofa or use your bedroll.”

Grady didn’t look pleased.

“You’d better let Nate know you’re here. Tell him the chicken is still warm if he wants some.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“In the bedroom at this end of the parlor.” It took only a few minutes to acquaint Grady with the layout of the house. Roberta pointed to a bowl on the back of the stove. “This is the chicken soup.”

Grady looked inside the bowl. “There’s not much left. What if he wants more?”

“Tell him he can’t have it.”

Grady’s eyes grew wide, and he backed up a step, like someone had tossed a snake at his feet. “I ain’t telling the boss he can’t have nothing.”

“It’s doctor’s orders.”

“Then the doctor can tell him.”

“The doctor’s not here.”

“Then you tell him. He can’t fire you.”

“Is he that difficult to work for?”

“He’s a great boss,” Grady assured her. “He pays more than anybody else, we get decent food, and he built a new bunkhouse last year. He never shouts, cusses, or expects us to do things he can’t do. But he doesn’t like anyone telling him what to do.”

Roberta picked up the bowl. “I’ll go with you, but you’ll have to wash up the dish when he’s done. I’m going to bed.”

Nate was dozing when she and Grady entered his bedroom. He opened his eyes, and a slow grin appeared when he saw Grady. “I figured Russ would send you. He’s our night owl,” he said to Roberta.

“How’re you feeling, boss? You don’t look so terrible.”

Nate’s grin grew. “It’s a relief to know I look only moderately terrible. I guess there’s still hope for my recovery.”

Grady fell all over himself trying to apologize but succeeded only in making it worse.

“He’s kidding you,” Roberta said.

“The boss never kids,” Grady assured her. “He has no sense of humor.” The words were barely out of his mouth before a look of horror indicated he realized what he’d just said. His efforts to explain his way out of that had Roberta turning away to hide her smiles. Nate wasn’t so amused.

“I’ve never been shot when I was trying to help or been forced to stay in a stranger’s house with the window boarded up and a watchman on duty because Laveau diViere is trying to kill me. I’m liable to do all sorts of things, but develop a sense of humor is hardly likely to be one of them.”

“He doesn’t mean half of what he says,” Roberta advised Grady. “He’s just bored and irritable.”

“What makes you say that?” Nate demanded.

“You’ve forgiven me for shooting you. Only a kind and thoughtful person could do that.”

“I never said I’ve forgiven you.”

“Not in so many words, but I can tell.”

Nate eyed her much as he would a puzzle whose solution had eluded him. “I’m not kind and thoughtful. I don’t even want to be.”

“That’s something you can’t hide. Why do you think your cowhands are so faithful?”

“Because I pay better than the other ranchers.”

“You give them better food and have built a new bunkhouse. You never shout, curse, or expect them to do anything you won’t do.”

Nate eyed Grady. “That may change if a certain young cowhand doesn’t learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“Don’t blame Grady. It’s hard to know what to say when someone has just tried to kill you.”

Nate turned to Grady. “What’s she talking about?”

“Someone took a couple shots at me on my way over here. I got a hole in my hat to prove he wasn’t hunting coyotes.”

“Why would anyone want to shoot you?”

“Could it be diViere?” Roberta asked.

“He wants me dead, but I can’t think of a reason why he should want to kill Grady.”

“Then who could it be?”

“Are you sure you didn’t get in the way of someone hunting coyotes?” Nate asked Grady.

“As sure as I can be without stopping to ask,” Grady said. “I took out after that first shot ’cause I figured I was in some hunter’s way, but whoever it was followed me. That second shot came from behind.”

“Somebody shot Roberta’s father, diViere wants me dead, and somebody tried to shoot you,” Nate pointed out. “There can’t be three separate killers all of a sudden.”

“Do you think they’re connected?” Roberta asked.

“If they are, I don’t see how. I don’t see why Laveau should care about your farm or Grady.”

“So who else could it be?”

“I have no idea.”

“I don’t either,” Roberta admitted, “but we’re not going to figure it out tonight. I need to get to bed, and you need to rest.” She handed the bowl of soup to Grady. “You can eat it all if you want, but you can’t have anything else until breakfast.”

“What are you going to fix?” Nate asked.

“Russ is sending breakfast with Carlin,” Grady said. “Miss Tryon don’t need to fix nothing.”

Roberta wasn’t positive, but she thought Nate looked disappointed.

Grady’s brow creased. “Can’t say I understand why Russ thinks she might poison you. She seemed pretty protective of you when she held a shotgun on me. “

“For all I knew,” Roberta said, “you could have been working for diViere, pretending to have been shot. It’d be a clever way of getting into the house. After I was in bed, you’d be free to smother your boss in his sleep and disappear long before I knew what had happened.”

Grady looked as though he’d walked into a house of horrors and didn’t know how to find his way out.

“Right now, though, the most important thing is for your boss to get as much rest as possible. That way he can get well so Russ can take him home and stop worrying that I’ll poison him.”

“And you won’t have to worry about taking care of me,” Nate added.

“I haven’t
worried
about taking care of you,” Roberta said, “but since I shot you, it’s my responsibility to care for you.”

“Is that all you feel, a sense of responsibility?”

Nate’s question was completely unexpected. What else was she supposed to feel? She hardly knew the man. She had seen him only a few times and then only when he was arguing with her father.

“I feel guilt as well,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant. Do you still hate me?”

“I never hated you. At least not after I stopped thinking you shot my father.”

“Whoa! You thought the boss killed your father?” Grady asked. “He’d never do anything like that.”

Roberta didn’t have the energy to explain the past two days to Grady. “Let Nate eat as much as he wants, then you stay in the parlor so he can sleep.”

She left before either man could object, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet. Why should Nate want her to like him? He hadn’t done anything to make her think he liked her or cared how she felt about him. She found him attractive, but the idea of liking him in any but the most casual way had never crossed her mind. He was a rich rancher and she the daughter of a poor farmer. That difference alone should have been enough to keep them apart.

She should put all thoughts of this out of her mind. It was ridiculous, far-fetched, not even in the realm of possibility, but she knew she would think about it half the night. She groaned. She would be exhausted by morning.

***

“Are you absolutely sure those shots were meant to kill you?” Nate asked Grady when Roberta had left.

“I can’t think of a reason why, but I’m sure that’s what he meant to do.”

Nate was puzzled. He understood Laveau’s apparent attempt to kill him, but he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to kill Grady. It didn’t make sense.

“You going to eat any of this chicken?” Grady asked.

Nate glanced at the bowl Grady was holding out to him. “I don’t think so. You can have it.”

Grady eyed the food and wrinkled his nose.

The boy’s reaction amused Nate. “Are you afraid it’s poisoned?”

Grady reacted like he’d been caught in a guilty secret. “No, boss. That lady don’t seem like the kind to go around murdering people.”

“Even though she shot me?”

“Well, that does seem like a mighty big exception.”

“You ought to stop listening to Russ. I don’t know where he got the notion Roberta would try to poison me.”

“Maybe because she thought you killed her pa?”

“She doesn’t think that anymore.”

“Still, females can be mighty vengeful,” Grady said. “There was this time back home when—”

“I’m sure we all know some woman who’s gone after her husband with a pot or broom handle.”

“It was a butcher knife. She carved him up like a slaughtered pig.”

“Roberta isn’t going to carve me up. She’s too anxious to get me well and out of her house.”

“If I was in your place, I wouldn’t be too anxious to leave,” Grady confessed a little sheepishly. “She’s a mighty fine looking woman.”

“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t believe me. Said Boone Riggins never told her she was beautiful. And that’s the man who claims he wants to marry her.”

Grady stared at the closed door. “I’d marry her in a heartbeat.”

“And spend the rest of your life planting corn and digging potatoes?”

“Some sacrifices are worth it.”

“I’ll warn you now her opinion of cowhands is no higher than her opinion of ranchers.”

Grady turned his gaze on Nate. “You aiming to change her mind?”

Nate had barely acknowledged the thought to himself, so he was shocked when the question was flung at him like that. “What makes you say that?”

“You telling her she’s beautiful.”

“You don’t think she’s beautiful?”

“Sure do, but I wouldn’t tell her.”

“Why not?”

“She might think I was up to something.”

“Like what?”

Grady squirmed under Nate’s gaze. “You know.
Something
.”

Nate did know. “I’m sure Roberta could stand being told she was beautiful without thinking you had designs on her virtue.”

“Maybe by you.” Grady hurried to add, “No woman would be afraid of a man who can’t sit up by himself.”

He looked so uncomfortable Nate knew that wasn’t the reason he had in mind. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Grady squirmed, avoided Nate’s gaze, then his words came out in a rush. “Everybody knows you got no interest in women.”

Nate could have anticipated several answers, but that wasn’t one of them. “Who said that?”

Grady looked at the bowl of chicken like he had no idea how it got in his hands. “Nobody in particular.”

“How is it nobody in particular said it, but everybody knows it?”

Grady became so fascinated with the contents of the bowl he couldn’t stop staring down at it.

“There are no answers in that bowl, so you might as well look at me. What have I done to make people think I don’t like women?”

“You haven’t
done
anything,” Grady said.

“Come on. Out with it.”

Grady finally wrenched his gaze from the bowl of chicken. “Are you going to fire me, boss?”

“Why should I do that?”

“I’ve never seen you look at anybody like that.”

Nate was annoyed. He didn’t know why anyone should assume he wasn’t interested in women. Neither did he know what he’d done to make the boy so afraid of him. “I’m not going to fire you, and I’m not looking at you like that. I just want to know why everybody thinks I’m not interested in women.”

“You don’t talk about women,” Grady finally said. “You never go with the men when they go to the saloon for a bit of company. None of us has ever seen you buy a drink for one of the gals or eat supper with her. You never go to the dances in town. There’s one next week, and you haven’t even mentioned it. At first we thought you were gone so much because you were seeing some married woman, but Russ told us you was chasing the man who killed your brother. He said you was so bitter he didn’t expect you’d ever get married.”

Nate didn’t know what surprised him more, that everybody was watching his activities so keenly or their interpretation of them. He hadn’t shown any attention to women in Slender Creek because none of them attracted him. He’d been so preoccupied with his search for Laveau he hadn’t had time to do much else.

“You can tell Russ I’m not so bitter I’m incapable of considering marriage. You can tell everyone else I’ll show plenty of interest in a woman when I meet one I find attractive. On second thought, don’t bother. I’ll tell them myself. Now take that chicken to the kitchen unless you intend to eat it. I don’t need anything now, so you can get your bedroll and go to sleep, that is if your horse hasn’t wandered off. I gather you didn’t have time to tether him. And try not to break anything in the parlor. I’ve imposed on Miss Tryon enough as it is.”

Grady practically stumbled over his feet getting out of the bedroom. Nate felt a little guilty for having spoken so severely to the boy, but he was shocked by what he’d been told. It was true that he’d been focused on his efforts to find Laveau, but it wasn’t true that he was uninterested in women. He had the same needs as any man his age, and he’d managed to take care of them in the same way millions of other young men did. That didn’t mean he was incapable of developing a romantic interest in a woman. It just meant he hadn’t found the one who could make him want to spend more than a few hours—or minutes—in her company.