Texas Homecoming (19 page)

He hadn’t lied exactly. He
didn’t
want to shoot Laveau, and Laveau
did
have information about the man who betrayed his troop—it was himself—but each word out of Cade’s mouth made him feel a little more guilty than the last. And as much as he wanted to marry Pilar, he knew his friends couldn’t give up their need for revenge. He didn’t know what he would do if he was caught between the two.

“My grandfather isn’t the only one who’s anxious to increase the size of our ranch,” Cade said. “Your half of the rancho will more than double our holdings. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich.”

“I want that too,” Pilar said. “I don’t need to live like my grandmother used to, but I dream about my soft bed and how wonderful it was to live in the hacienda.”

“It’ll take a few years,” Cade said, “but I plan to have a big house in San Antonio. You’ll have all the clothes and jewels you could want. You’ll be invited everywhere.”

“You forget my father and grandfather fought for Mexico.”

“That won’t matter. You’ll be the wife of a rich man. People will want to be our friends.”

“Is that so important?”

“I can’t forget what your grandmother said about me. A lot of other people said the same thing. I want to make them eat their words.”

But as soon as Cade said that, he realized it wasn’t true any longer. He didn’t care what people said about him, because he didn’t accept their evaluation. He was tired of war and hating, tired of feeling like a thief. By marrying Pilar, in a sense he’d be returning the land his family stole. He wanted to build, not destroy. He wanted a family, not feuds. He wanted a warm, happy life, and no one he knew deserved that any more than Pilar.

“Do you like me at all?” Pilar asked.

Her question surprised him. She wasn’t a woman who believed in love. Her social class followed strict rules to secure social position and wealth. That didn’t allow room for passion, only cold calculation.

“Of course I like you. I thought I had made that plain.”

“We’ve both confessed to acting contrary to our feelings for what we thought were good reasons. Everything is different now. I need to know how you really feel.”

“Would you have asked that question of Manuel?”

She looked surprised. “No. The situation would have been entirely different.”

“How? You’d be his wife.”

“We wouldn’t expect to have any feelings for each other. We share the same culture, the same social system, the same religion, roles already defined for us. We could go for days without meeting and know exactly what the other was thinking. It’s completely different with us.”

“How?”

“Your grandfather wants my land, but he scorns me. My grandmother wants you to drive out the squatters, but she wants me to renege on our agreement and marry Manuel. Laveau will hate both of us. Everybody around us will try to drive us apart. If we don’t at least like and respect each other, the marriage will be impossible. I’ve never known anybody more lonely than my grandmother. Her husband did his duty—at least Grandmother says he did—but they were like strangers living under the same roof. They didn’t talk or spend time with each other. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

He hadn’t viewed things in such a grim light, but there wasn’t any question about his liking her. Even before Pilar’s confession, he’d suspected that the old woman would not really give him Pilar. He couldn’t see her throwing away thirty years of hatred so readily.

But he wanted Pilar, not for her land or her cows but for herself. The part of him that admired Pilar and wanted to be equally honest about their marriage struggled against the part of him that demanded revenge. He felt like a heel, but he wanted Pilar too much to be honest. Doing so would mean he would lose her.

His brain said it would be better if he didn’t care for her. Any warm feelings would die after they hanged Laveau. But another part of him wanted her to care about him,
needed
her to care. Somehow he’d figure out what to do about Laveau, but he had to have Pilar. He couldn’t do without her.

Right now he had to convince Pilar he liked her. That shouldn’t be hard. He didn’t have to pretend. He reached out and took her hands in his. She didn’t resist when he pulled her toward him. She slid off the rock, stood so close
he could see the vein in the side of her neck throbbing with the rapid beat of her heart.

“I don’t know when I stopped pretending, but it was long before we went to San Antonio.” He remembered the walk by the river, the kisses they’d shared, the difficulty he had holding himself in check. He pulled her closer until their bodies met, breasts against chest.

He trailed his fingertip across her lower lip. It felt so very soft. “I can’t imagine anyone ignoring you.”

“It’s a matter of honor with men like my father. A husband takes pains to demonstrate his indifference to his wife. Otherwise people might think she influenced his decisions, and that would be fatal to his prestige.”

“Will you try to influence my decisions?”

“It depends on what you’re deciding.”

“Suppose I wanted to put my arms around you,” he said as he slipped his arms around her waist.

“I wouldn’t try to dissuade you.”

“Even if I held you very tightly?” He pulled her to him until their bodies met from chest to thigh.

“You’re not holding me too tightly now.”

He couldn’t see her expression clearly in the shadowed light filtering through the leaves of the live oak, but he felt the invitation of her body as it pressed against him, heard it in her voice. He could sense it in the electricity between their bodies. It was like heat lightning on a hot summer’s night. Whatever her reasons for wanting him to like her, she was not dealing in half-lies now.

There was just as much lightning coming from him. He’d never felt so keyed up. His body had begun to swell. But not even growing discomfort could draw his attention away from Pilar and his desire to kiss her soft lips. He’d spent
far too much time during the last two nights thinking of the kisses they’d shared by the river.

He leaned down until their lips met. His memory hadn’t misled him. Her lips were incredibly soft, so very sweet, yielding, inviting. His gentle kiss deepened into a hungry, greedy kiss which made no allowances for her inexperience. Rather, it yielded to the insistent need inside him, the need which she seemed to fan into a fierce flame. The intensity of this need, this urge to throw himself headlong into this novel experience, battled with his habit of control, with his personal requirement that everything he did have a specific, preplanned goal.

He broke the kiss, teetering on the edge, afraid he would fall into the abyss.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” He didn’t want to admit that fear was at the root of his hesitation. “I didn’t want to do anything that would frighten you.”

“You didn’t.” She looked up at him, and a beam of moonlight found its way through the canopy overhead to illuminate her face so he could see her smile. “I like it. I don’t understand why my grandmother should have told me I wouldn’t.”

“I think she was referring to something else.”

“She said I wouldn’t like anything my husband did.”

She stood on tiptoe, her face upturned, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Cade to drop his head and for their lips to meet in a deep, lingering kiss. Pilar returned his kiss, slipping her tongue between his teeth. Neither shy nor brazen, she seemed eager to enter fully into the experience.

Cade had never felt more than a physical response to any woman. It had taken him a little while before he realized
his reaction to Pilar was quite different.

He told himself he ought to back up, pull hard on the reins, cut and run, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to keep on kissing Pilar.

She didn’t object when his hands left her waist and moved across her back. Nor when they moved over her shoulders or down her arms. She leaned closer to him, tightened her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts more firmly against his chest. Any desire to control himself deserted Cade. He could think of nothing but the woman in his arms, the throbbing need of his body. He pressed against her, knowing she must feel his hardness. The feel of her, the scent of her, the taste, had overpowered his senses. He no longer had any capacity to reason or to consider consequences.

He slipped his hand between them, covered one of her breasts.

Pilar’s swift intake of breath caused him to hesitate. She pulled back, her chest heaving from her rapid breaths. “Is that one of the things husbands do to their wives?” she asked, inquiring, unsure.

“
With
their wives,” Cade corrected. “Do you like it?” He didn’t know if he could stop if she didn’t.

“I don’t know. My whole body feels strange.”

“That’s because kissing and being held in a man’s arms are new to you.”

“Do Americans do that much?”

“All the time.” He had a hard time remembering that though she lived in Texas, she had been brought up like a European.

“Do American women like it?”

“Yes.” According to Owen, they craved it.

“Then let’s try it again.”

She sounded unsure but eager. Cade warned himself to remain in control. But as he put his arms around Pilar once more and covered her mouth with his, it was hard to remember any limits.

A moment later, Pilar pushed him away. “I hear something.”

Somebody was coming in their direction, whistling so he wouldn’t surprise anybody. Cade felt sudden, sharp embarrassment. If this had been a war situation, he would have been dead.

“It’s one of the boys,” Cade said.

“Is something wrong?”

“I doubt it. He’s whistling.”

Moments later, Owen rounded the sprawling branches of the live oak. He was smiling, trying to look nonchalant, but Cade noticed his sharp gaze taking in every detail of their position and expressions.

“I hate to break up this little tête-à-tête, but a rider just came by with a letter for Pilar. He says it’s from her brother.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You cannot marry a man who hates your brother,” Pilar’s grandmother said.

“My father hated his brother. He said he was glad he died of diphtheria.”

“His brother tried to steal his inheritance.”

“That’s not important now. What should I tell Laveau? He wants me to write him back immediately.”

The rider had been happy to accept Cade’s invitation to spend the night in the bunkhouse.

“You must tell him everything,” her grandmother said. “He is your brother. You must be loyal to him.”

“Of course I’m loyal, but what can I tell him that will be of any use?”

“That Cade Wheeler and his friends are here waiting for him.”

“Cade hasn’t made a secret of the fact that he’s angry at Laveau for deserting, but he only wants Laveau to help him find the man who betrayed their troop. The major said any
ex-Confederate soldier would want to see justice done.”

“What is this Anglo justice?”

“He said they hang traitors.”

Her grandmother lost color. “These bloodthirsty Americans cannot be satisfied with taking the life of my husband and my son.”

“Cade doesn’t want Laveau. He wants the traitor.”

“Now they want my grandson, too,” her grandmother said, ignoring her. “They will not have him. I will protect him with my life. You must tell Laveau that Cade and his friends are waiting to kill him. He must come at once with a great army and kill them all.”

“Grandmother!” Pilar exclaimed, aghast. “How can you ask me to marry a man before supper and a few hours later ask me to tell my brother to kill him?”

“They killed my husband and my son,” the old woman said, implacable hatred flashing in her eyes. “They stole our land and did nothing while squatters drove us out of our home.”

“The war killed them, not Earl. And Cade has promised to get the hacienda back.”

“We will not need him when Laveau comes with his army.”

“If Laveau had an army, I’m sure he would have been here already.”

Her grandmother appeared reluctant to give up her dream of such magnificent vengeance, but she was a realist. “What is this Reconstruction he says is moving so slowly?”

“Cade says the Union Army is determined to make sure the freed slaves are treated fairly.”

“We had no slaves. Why should we care about this Army?”

“I think it’s the Army Laveau hoped would help him get back our land.”

“Then why is this Army wasting its time on slaves? They are free, are they not? Our land is not free. They should help us.”

“I think that’s what Laveau wants them to do, but it doesn’t appear that they agree.”

“Why not? Is that not why he changed sides?”

“The major said no one trusts a traitor.”

“This major, he is stupid.”

“Maybe, but it sounds like Laveau’s in trouble with both sides.”

Her grandmother went into a tirade about Americans, which Pilar tried to ignore. The rider would leave first thing in the morning. She didn’t have long to decide what to say to Laveau. She’d never been in such a quandary. Until today, she would have considered herself unshakably loyal to her family. Now she felt like a traitor herself because she kept thinking of Cade.

There really wasn’t anything to tell Laveau beyond the fact that Cade was back, he and his friends were rounding up and branding their cattle, and he had promised to drive the squatters from their ranch.

She guessed it was the idea of being disloyal to Cade that bothered her, telling Laveau about him but not telling Cade about Laveau. She had taken a great chance confessing to Cade all her underhanded behavior and self-interested motives. She had insisted that they had to be honest with each other, had to like each other, feel some sort of bond and respect, or their marriage would be a terrible failure.

And Cade had spent at least half an hour convincing her his feelings were far from detached. She hoped they
were warm enough to make him want to kiss her for the rest of their lives. She’d wanted to tell him that but couldn’t bring herself to put it into words. She wondered if proper ladies felt as she did.

“There’s nothing in this letter I can’t show Cade,” Pilar said to her grandmother.

“You would betray your brother!”

“He says Cade hates him and he’s afraid to come home. Everybody knows that. He wants to know what Cade’s doing. Everybody knows that, too. He doesn’t tell me anything. I don’t know where he is, how or if my letter will reach him. You have to start thinking about Cade differently. I can’t have you hating my husband.”

“I forbid you to marry him,” her grandmother said. “We need him only to get the hacienda back.”

“And what will you do if he refuses to hand it over until we’re married?”

“You will tell him to go. You will say—”

Pilar’s laugh was involuntary. “You’ve watched Earl Wheeler claw his way out of poverty for the last thirty years, and you still don’t understand him. Cade is like his grandfather in that he will not give up anything he takes. He could put us out on the road, and there’d be no one to stop him.”

“Laveau—”

“Laveau isn’t here. If he does come back, he won’t stand a chance against Cade.”

“Where is your loyalty?”

“I’m loyal, but I’m not stupid. Laveau could never stand up to Cade. Now I’ve got to answer Laveau’s letter. When I finish, I’ll show my answer to Cade so he won’t think I’m trying to hide anything.”

“I never thought my granddaughter would turn against her own family.”

“There’s something you’d better learn soon. Nobody betrays Cade Wheeler and gets away with it. I haven’t agreed to marry him yet, but if I do, I will be his wife. If you don’t want that, you’d better speak to him now. Maybe you can work out a deal where we can pay him in cattle.”

“I will give up no cattle. They are mine.”

“We don’t have a whole lot of choices. If Cade agrees to get our rancho back, he’ll expect payment. If I agree to marry him, there will be no going back. For either of us.”

“I don’t think you ought to take her with us,” Owen said. “Women are no good in battle.”

“Normally I would agree with you,” Cade said, “but she’s the only one who’s ever been inside the hacienda. Even with the extra men, we’re going to need every advantage we can find.”

During the last week they had spent their days rounding up and branding cattle, and their evenings trying to come up with a plan of attack. Broc had found six men—four ex-Confederates, one cowhand, and one with a reputation as a gunman.

“We’ve got thirteen men,” Broc said.

“And they’ve got twenty,” Cade reminded him.

“Don’t forget me and Jessie,” Earl Wheeler said.

“Somebody’s got to stay here to protect our rear.”

“Let one of your fancy soldiers do it,” Earl said. “I damned well ain’t staying here when you go after them scallywags. I been holding them off for two years. I mean to kill at least one of the bastards.”

It had taken all of Cade’s persuasive talents to convince his grandfather that Jessie couldn’t hold the ranch alone,
that defending the ranch was a crucial part of their plan. But even now, Cade wasn’t sure his grandfather wouldn’t follow.

Cade had given the job of infiltrating the squatters to the gunman. If he could believe Bolin Bigelow, it had been no problem to stop at the hacienda for one night. He’d been questioned closely at first, but after that, he’d been free to wander about, observing things without hindrance.

What Cade had learned hadn’t surprised him, but it would devastate Pilar to know what was going on in her home.

“They have beef every night,” Bigelow said. “They take only the choicest pieces and leave the rest to rot or give it to the dog.”

Cade wasn’t pleased to learn about the dog.

“Then they drink themselves into a stupor,” Bolin continued.

Bolin had been able to scout only a few of the buildings surrounding the hacienda. “They lock themselves in at night,” Bolin said. “They might as well be in a fort.”

Broc and Nate had argued for a daylight attack. Owen and Ivan said that was foolish. Holt said he didn’t see any way they could win. Rafe said they should consider dynamite. Cade said Pilar and Senora diViere would rather the hacienda remain in the squatters’ control than be destroyed. The discussion had deteriorated into arguments about one undesirable plan as opposed to another until Pilar dropped her bombshell.

“There’s a tunnel into the hacienda.” Every eye in the room swung instantly in her direction. “I’ve never actually been in it, but Laveau has. It was built in case of a Comanche attack.”

“Where does it come out?” Cade asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Where does it begin?”

“In the floor of one of the stables.”

“Describe the stable,” Cade said.

“I can’t, but I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

Cade depended little on such assurances. He’d heard them before from experienced men.

“We can’t build a battle plan around something we may not be able to find and which may not still be in working order,” Owen said.

“I can find it,” Pilar said confidently.

“The squatters could have discovered it,” Broc said. “They’ve had two years to root around the place.”

“Even if they have, we still might be able to use it,” Cade said.

They finally settled on a night attack. Armed with whiskey laced with a sleep-inducing herb concoction prepared by Senora diViere, Bolin Bigelow and two others would get inside the hacienda for the night. The rest of them would have to find the tunnel or depend on Pilar to lead them inside the quickest way.

So after giving Bolin and his companions several hours to get inside the hacienda and generously share their “found” whiskey, Cade and the rest of the men set out for the rancho. Earl had said he planned to hide in the brush.

“You don’t have to worry none,” he said to his brother as he prepared to leave Jessie with Senora diViere. “Anybody finding himself with that woman on his hands will turn tail faster than a wild bronco with a lasso in his face.”

Having Pilar involved in the attack made the men jittery on the ride to the rancho. Cade felt uncomfortable because she had to ride across his lap. She’d never been allowed to ride a horse, not even sidesaddle. According to her grandmother,
a lady traveled in a closed carriage or she stayed where she was.

Cade couldn’t ride so many miles with Pilar’s soft bottom pushing against him without the expected result. Pilar’s confusion didn’t help. Owen’s caustic remarks—he had to know what was happening—only made things worse.

“We can always depend on Cade’s total attention,” Owen was telling Pilar. “Once we set out on a raid, nothing can dent his concentration.”

Pilar couldn’t like being told that Cade was impervious to her presence even when she was sitting in his lap. But thoughts of the upcoming battle weren’t nearly powerful enough to take Cade’s mind off Pilar completely or the feel of her bottom as it ceaselessly rubbed against his groin. He couldn’t banish memories of holding her in his arms, the feel of her breasts as they pressed against him, of her body as it rubbed against his hardness. More than once he had to stifle a groan when she shifted her weight and it nearly sent him over the edge. He was enormously relieved when the dark shape of the hacienda came into view.

Even at night its two stories looked imposing, reminding Cade of the huge difference between the Wheeler and diViere families. The house appeared to be a large block with no windows or balconies to break up the facade, but Cade knew the hacienda was wrapped around an inner courtyard. The lack of outside windows on the ground floor was meant to protect the place from assault.

Cade could sense Pilar’s excitement at seeing her home for the first time in two years.

“Owen, you and Rafe search the grounds for any guards. Look out for the dogs. Bolin says they’ll do anything for food, so be generous with that meat. Leave one man here.”

Cade and Pilar approached the empty stables from the side away from the house.

“I’ve never been in this part of the stable,” Pilar said.

“It’s the safest way to get in. No one can see us from the house.”

Texas ranchers kept their riding horses in a corral or let them run loose, but the diViere stables were large enough to house more than two dozen horses for coaches and pleasure riding. A second courtyard was surrounded by workshops and storerooms, the contents of which had been dragged out and strewn across the courtyard.

“I’m glad my father didn’t live to see this,” Pilar said. “It would have broken his heart.”

“Concentrate on remembering where to find the tunnel,” Cade said. “With nearly a dozen men wandering about the place in the dark, someone is bound to stumble into trouble before long.”

“I don’t recognize any of these stalls,” Pilar said. “But I know I will remember it.”

But a second circuit of the courtyard didn’t yield any better results.

“There must be more stables,” Pilar said. “It’s not here.”

“Time is running out. If we don’t attack soon, it’ll be too late.”

“I know there are more stables. We just have to find them.”

“Let’s look on the other side of the shops.”

Cade’s instincts proved accurate, but a man lay asleep in front of one stall, the one Pilar pointed her finger at and whispered, “There it is. That’s the one.”

“Wait here,” Cade said. He had to reach the man before he awoke and sounded the alarm, but the stable yard was in near stygian darkness. He practically had to drag his feet
to keep from stumbling over debris he couldn’t see. Once, he barely caught himself before falling. Pilar bumped into him. “I told you to wait.”

“I’m afraid of the dark.”

He’d spent so many years fighting at night, he’d forgotten that not everyone liked the dark. “Stay still before you stumble over something.”

“You’re the one who stumbled.”

From the loud snores, Cade guessed the man had passed out. “Wait here,” he whispered, then crept forward. Rather than risk an outcry, he stuck the man over the head with his pistol butt, then tied him up and gagged him. The man came to just as Cade dragged him to a post and tied him securely. Despite being drunk, the squatter’s dark eyes blazed with anger and hatred.