How to Lasso a Cowboy (20 page)

Seth shrugged. “Not much practice in the past year.”

“But you saw Marilee?” Dillon asked again.

“Yes—and it sent her running into the house. She was scared to death of me. I agreed to take it slow, to let her get used to me before I took her. Abe offered me the use of the old Keller place.”

“How did she look?”

“Beautiful. I expected a baby. Nearly five years makes a lot of difference.”

“And Miss McGuire? What did you think of her?”

“She seems kind enough. Marilee apparently trusts her.” He couldn't add that his own sister didn't trust him.

“She's plain, according to talk, yet Delaney seems to have his eyes set on her for some reason.”

“She's not exactly plain. Her eyes . . .” He stopped suddenly.

“Her eyes?” her brother prompted.

Seth shrugged. “They're quite pretty.”

“A carbetbagger's daughter? You have been at war a long time, brother.”

Unaccountably, Seth took offense. Not for himself but for the woman who was taking care of his sister. “Watch your mouth, younger brother. She's been good to our sister.”

Dillon looked at him for a long time, almost like he still didn't believe he was real. He reached out and touched his shoulder. “It's just the three of us now. You and Marilee and me.”

“I'm going to get us together again,” Seth said.

“And our land.”

“And our land,” he confirmed.

Dillon held out his hand. Seth clasped it. Then pulled his brother into his arms and hugged him.

He was halfway home.

ELIZABETH
cooked supper, wondering when her father would arrive home.

The big pot of stew was simmering. It was the most thrifty meal she could make, and the most tasty, with her little inside garden of herbs. She went upstairs to Marilee's room.

Marilee, holding a doll possessively, was sitting again in a corner.

“Marilee, supper's ready.”

The girl looked up at her with huge blue eyes. “Did he go?”

Elizabeth stooped down. “You don't have to be afraid. The man you met is your brother, and he loves you.”

Marilee shivered. “He has a gun.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean he is a bad person.”

“I don't know him.”

“That's because he has been gone a very long time.”

“Where's Dillon?” Marilee asked plaintively.

The question again. The one that wouldn't go away. The one she'd repeated at least once a day since she had started to talk again.

“I don't know,” she said honestly. She held out her hand. “Let's go down to supper, then I'll read you a story.”

Marilee finally stood and took her hand, following soundlessly as she allowed Elizabeth to lead her down the steps.

What was it about Seth Sinclair that frightened his sister? He had indeed frightened even herself this morning when he appeared. But later he'd been oddly protective.

But Marilee still feared him and that was enough to convince Elizabeth to keep her close.

She would protect Marilee. With her life, if necessary.

 
IF DILLON WAS
right about Delaney's plans, then the McGuires were in trouble.

If they were in trouble, his sister was in trouble.

Seth told himself that was his only concern.

Yet the image of Miss McGuire standing in the doorway of his home with the damned rifle, then her attempts to stop a runaway horse and her coolness afterward had impressed him. She had courage, the kind that could get her killed.

He did not want her killed. Or harmed.

Her father, though, was an entirely different story.

Or was it?

Regardless, he knew he had to warn Elizabeth McGuire.

Would she believe him? Or would she feel that he was just trying to get her and her father off the land?

Even if he did, how in hell could he buy the land back?

A wave of hopelessness washed over him. He needed money. He needed it fast. He could see no way of getting it,
not without breaking the law and that, he knew, would play into Delaney's hands. He hadn't left one prison to go into another.

He tried to brush away those thoughts as he used the trail he knew so well. He had stayed the night at the cabin, talking for hours with Dillon, catching up on all their old neighbors and even the newcomers.

Seth had the seeds of a plan in mind, but he didn't tell Dillon. Not until he felt at ease in his own mind that it would work. He didn't think even the Yankee army would tolerate theft on a grand scale. The question, though, was proof. Delaney would continue to blame the rustling on Dillon and his friends, on un-reconstructed rebels.

He rode by the old Keller place which Abe had said he could use. It had a sturdy ranch house, once well tended by someone who, like his family, loved Texas, loved the land. Now it looked like too many of the Southern soldiers he'd met on the long way home. It looked, in fact, probably as he had when he first met Elizabeth McGuire. Faded and dirty and most definitely having seen better times.

Would Marilee be happy there? Could she ever accept him? Perhaps if Dillon was with him.

He had to clear Dillon's name first.

And Elizabeth? Damn it, but he wished she hadn't touched a tender place somewhere deep inside. It was an emotion he thought long dead after the Wilderness.

Seth used water from the pump outside to wash, then changed into the one clean shirt he had left. He had purchased a change of clothes at the general store, a transaction that further depleted his already dismal purse.

There was an old mirror in one of the rooms and he used it to shave.

He barely recognized the man that stared back at him. His face looked gaunt, his cheeks hollow. His eyes were cold as they weighed the face.

No wonder he'd frightened his sister.

He didn't look anything like his father or brother, and his mother had died at Marilee's birth. He didn't have
Dillon's light hazel eyes and dark hair, the same features their father had.

His face had hardened; the softness of youth gone. It came of commanding men, of sending them into battle where they might—and did—die. It came from leaving too many on the battlefield and in the prison, where hunger was a constant and fever took as many lives as bullets and cannonballs had.

Given that, could he ever provide the nurturing a small child required? The nurturing and sense of safety she deserved?

Would she be better off with the McGuire woman?

The thought was unbelievably painful, but it continued to play in his mind.

And his heart.

Perhaps today his sister would open up to him, or at least acknowledge him. Until she did, he would have a huge hole in his heart.

ELIZABETH
slept restlessly. She had stayed at Marilee's side until she had gone to sleep.

After leaving for her own bed, she still listened for the nightmares before drifting off into an uneasy sleep. At some time, she heard her farther come in the house. By the loud sounds, she knew he had been drinking.

She chose not to confront him tonight. When drinking, he promised the moon. He seldom kept—or even remembered—those promises.

She couldn't really blame him. Not with failure riding toward them. No cattle, no taxes. No taxes, no land. . . .

Sighing, she knew there would be no talking to him tonight.

ELIZABETH
rose at daybreak. Marilee was still sleeping. Perhaps yesterday had not been as frightening to Marilee
as Elizabeth feared. That would make it easier for Seth and Marilee to make their peace.

Easier for her to lose the child that had become a daughter to her. Perhaps the only one she might ever have the chance to mother. A sickening sense of loss flooded her.

But then Seth Sinclair had his losses, too.

She felt small and selfish.

She had no doubt he would return. No doubt that he cared for his sister and her welfare. His leaving her here had convinced her of that.

She tried not to consider the fact that she wanted to see him again. She only wanted him to meet quietly with his sister. It was the right thing to do. At least, she hoped it was the right thing.

She did not want him to meet her father. She knew her father's quick temper. She'd also recognized the tense emotions in Seth Sinclair. He wore a gun like a man who knew how to use it. And after killing Northerners for four years, would he have any qualms about killing one who he believed was stealing his land?

She needed to keep them apart. As long as possible.

She didn't intend to tell her father about their visitor.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he stumbled into the kitchen, his hair mussed, his face still ruddy from drinking, his eyes bloodshot.

“I waited for you last night,” she said.

He looked sheepish. It was an expression she knew too well. He always thought it would cleanse his sins. It no longer did, in her eyes.

“I was talking to Major Delaney. He invited me to dinner to discuss these cattle-thieving rebels.”

“Did he offer any help?”

“Well . . . not right now, but he promised he will.”

“And how will we repay the loan you took out if our cattle keep disappearing?”

“He will help us,” he said stubbornly. “And I asked him for supper tomorrow night. He was asking after you. He's
sweet on you.” He looked at her with his bloodshot eyes.

A cold chill shot through her. She had disliked and distrusted Delaney from the first moment she'd met him. For some reason, he was seeking her out. She'd found that strange, since few men had before. She knew she was no beauty, and she had never tried to improve her appearance for a man who repelled her.

“He is twice my age, and I have no interest in him. You know that.”

His face fell. “Every woman wants a husband and children.”

“Not without love.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. “I always disappoint you, lass. I never wanted to do that.” He dropped his hand. “Howie and I will go out and look for cattle. There's bound to be strays. Enough to start a new herd. Perhaps I can borrow some money. We'll make it.”

“And Major Delaney?” she asked.

“It would please me if you would be pleasant to him tomorrow night,” he said, “but I expect no more.”

Her father rose wearily and he looked old. She'd never noticed that about him before. He was always so full of life, sober or drunk. But now he looked years older than his actual age. His face was pale, even gray looking.

“Are you ill?” she asked.

“Just the effects of last night.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I am sorry, lass. I truly am. I just want to know you will be taken care of.”

The way he said the words sent a chill through her. It was as if he knew something. . . .

“Is anything wrong?”

“Nay, Liz. I'm just getting old and I want to make sure you are safe. You would have a handsome future with the major.”

He had used her before. He had used her as bait, as a shill. But he had never tried to sell her. He wouldn't do that.

Or would he?

As soon as the insidious thought came, she dismissed it.
He would never consciously hurt her. He should know that one of the Sinclairs had returned to reclaim the land her father firmly believed was his. But if she told him now, he would stay. He would try to defend this land just as Seth Sinclair's father had tried to protect what was his.

Elizabeth couldn't stand it if the two men fought and one was killed.

She watched as he gave Marilee a huge hug when the sleepy child came into the room. She remembered those hugs, and how comforting they had been.