Texas Homecoming (3 page)

“Let me know if you find out when he’s coming back. Maybe we can work together. I probably have squatters stealing my cows, too.”

“Your grandfather and uncle drove out the ones who tried to settle here. That’s how your uncle got hurt.”

“Who took care of him?”

“My grandmother,” she said, glad that Wheelers finally owed something to the diVieres.

“I thought she wanted us all dead.”

“She said she wanted him alive when the army threw you off this land. She wanted him to experience the humiliation she has lived with for so long.” The anger was back. “I’ll have supper ready as soon as I can.”

“We’ll eat whenever you have it ready.”

“I prayed a Yankee bullet would kill him,” her grandmother said to Pilar the minute she entered the room that her grandmother hadn’t left since she’d arrived at the ranch two years ago.

“Who?”

“The young one. Kill off the young, and their tribe will wither and die.”

Pilar didn’t like the Wheelers, but she’d never prayed for Cade’s death. Except for youthful high spirits and general
worthlessness, she hadn’t seen anything wrong with him, though she thought it was a shame for such good looks to be wasted on a Wheeler. There were times when she had difficulty remembering she wasn’t supposed to like him. “He’ll be a lot nicer to work for than his grandfather.”

“Men like him want only one thing. Keep away from him.”

Pilar had never been able to convince her grandmother that Cade’s kidnapping her had been nothing more than a prank. Her grandmother remained convinced that only the pursuit of the ranch hands had prevented his despoiling Pilar among the cactus and catclaw.

“I can’t hide in this room all day like you do.”

“I will not watch that vile old man enjoy his triumph. I will not come out until Laveau comes to carry me back to our hacienda.”

Pilar had found it difficult to care for her grandmother and do all the other work as well, but so far she’d managed. She didn’t know what she was going to do now that she had four extra men to feed.

“Don’t let her know what her brother really did,” Cade said when he rejoined his friends at the corral. His grandfather had been entertaining them with some of his stories but had stalked off in a huff when he saw Cade coming.

“Why not?” Owen asked. “She thinks that traitor is a hero.”

“Everybody ought to know what he did,” Holt said.

“I agree,” Cade said, “but he’s still writing her.”

“But she can’t write him,” Holt reminded Cade.

“I expect that will change. He’ll probably want to know if the coast is clear.”

“Why should he care, if he’s bringing the Union Army with him?”

“I doubt he can do that. In any case, I don’t want you to tell her what he did. If she thinks we’re after him, she’ll warn him to stay away.”

“You planning on flirting with her?” Owen said, his grin mocking.

“She dislikes everyone in my family.”

“She doesn’t dislike you.”

“Yes, she does. Her grandmother has beaten that into her very soul. It’s probably why Laveau betrayed us.”

“She likes you. Give me credit for knowing women.”

“I’ll give you credit for being the most brazen flirt I know, so stay away from her.” Cade grinned at his cousin. He hadn’t much liked his distant relative at first, but he’d come to see that behind all Owen’s bluster and outrageous talk was a solid, responsible man who could be depended on regardless of danger. “Maybe Holt or Rafe should talk to her and see what they can learn.”

“She won’t like Rafe. Besides, it would take her a year to get a full sentence out of him. She won’t like Holt because he’s a Yankee. That leaves me and you. Want to toss a coin to see who gets her?”

Cade was certain Pilar felt nothing but dislike for him, but there was an outside chance that loneliness might cause her to misinterpret the first male attention she’d received in years. He had no intention of letting Owen trifle with her affections. He liked even less gambling over the right to do so.

“We’re not tossing a coin,” Cade said.

“Does that mean you’re giving her to me?”

“No, it means we’re not tossing a coin.”

“What are you so concerned about? She’s the enemy.”

“Laveau is the enemy.”

“Do you think she’d help him even if she knew what he did?”

“Yes.”

“Then she’s not innocent,” Owen said, his grin becoming more pronounced as he fished a coin out of his pocket. “You get heads. I get tails.”

“I’m not gambling,” Cade said, but Owen had already tossed the coin.

He let it fall on the ground. “Damn, you win.”

Cade felt the muscles across his shoulders relax, was relieved he wouldn’t have a confrontation with Owen. He understood the importance of undercover work—espionage, spying, anything you wanted to call it. Had this been war, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

But it wasn’t war, and Pilar was innocent even if she didn’t like him and was loyal to her brother. It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her. Then he remembered Laveau’s treachery, and his heart hardened.

He would have revenge regardless of who suffered. Even the innocent.

But the fact that he’d always liked her made it harder. Her being young and extremely attractive made it harder still. It would be all too easy to like his task, and the more he liked it and the more successful he became, the more he would dislike himself.

“You boys had better check your equipment,” he said, ready to think about something else. “We start looking for the riding stock tomorrow. They ought to be pretty wild by now.”

“My mare’s in heat,” Holt said. “That ought to attract the attention of the stallions.”

“We need the geldings,” Cade said. “Stallions are no good as cow ponies.”

“Then let’s cut them.”

Cade laughed. “You ever try to cut a wild stallion?”

“No, but I bet it would be fun.”

“Only if you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“I’ll do it,” Rafe said.

They all looked at him.

“I’ve done it before.”

Cade wondered when and where. Though he’d known Rafe for nearly four years, he knew almost nothing about him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cade said. “If you boys need to replace any equipment, there ought to be plenty in the bunkhouse.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Owen asked as Cade headed for the barn with the other men.

“I need to check my equipment, too.”

“We’ll do that for you. Get up to the house and convince that pretty young thing you think the sun rises and sets on her. I expect you to know all her secrets by this time tomorrow.”

Chapter Three

Pilar hurried to get dinner on the table. From her experience, men expected food to be in front of them when they were hungry, seconds to be handed to them the minute they were ready. They never seemed to understand that food didn’t prepare itself or that no woman was born with eight arms so she could fulfill all their demands at once.

She grabbed plates from the cabinet while keeping an eye on the stove. The chipped and cracked plates and cups were in stark contrast to the expensive French china the squatters occupying her family’s hacienda were using. She had buried the silver, but she expected that everything else in the house would be gone before they returned.

If
they returned.

She pushed that thought from her mind. Laveau would be home soon. He would drive the squatters out. She grabbed a handful of forks, knives, and spoons and started putting them around the table. They were made of tin. The Wheelers didn’t own anything that wasn’t cheap.

She heard the door open and felt a surge of anxiety. The men were here, and she wasn’t ready. The old man would have a fit.

“Need any help?”

Pilar turned around so fast that one of the knives flew out of her hands. It struck Cade on the shin and landed on his foot. She stood there, too shocked to move. Cade calmly stooped down and picked up the knife.

“I guess you need a clean one.” He turned to the drawer and took out a knife. “The boys will be in any minute. I’ll finish setting the table.”

Pilar couldn’t understand why she couldn’t move. No shock should have affected her this strongly.

“I don’t know what everyone wants to drink. I’ve got plenty of coffee, but I didn’t know if anyone might want milk.” She had to be losing her mind. Only farmers drank milk. A cowboy would go thirsty first.

“I can’t speak for Rafe, but Holt drinks milk. He’s nothing but an old farm boy. Owen will drink whatever you offer him. He’s a helpless flirt around a pretty woman.”

She remained paralyzed, staring at him, acting like a fool, sure her mouth was hanging open. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was worrying about having to feed so many men. He took the forks and knives from her limp grasp.

“You’d better get the food on the table. I think I hear them coming.”

He smiled, but no warmth reached his eyes. His voice sounded cold, unemotional. Pulling herself together, Pilar hurried to the stove, took a very large meat pie out of the oven, and placed it in the middle of the table.

“That smells awfully good,” Cade said as he took cups
from the cupboard. “Don’t we have anything that’s not chipped or cracked?”

“That’s all I’ve ever seen.”

He inspected one of the coffee cups, turning it from side to side. “I guess I never noticed before.”

He’d grown up with cracks and chips. He probably thought that was how plates and cups were supposed to look. She wondered where he’d been and what he’d done to make him aware of the difference now. Her grandmother never stopped reminding her that the Wheelers were poor whites who didn’t have any class or enough sense to know they were trash.

Cade wasn’t stupid. He ought to
know
he was so poor that he was beneath the notice of a diViere. Still, she had to admire the way he brazenly forced the world to take him as he was. He didn’t appear to have lost any of his self-confidence, but he clearly didn’t like chipped and cracked dishes.

She couldn’t afford to stand there speculating about his last four years. She put a large bowl of black-eyed peas on the table, then reached for the stewed peaches.

“Where’s the milk?” he asked.

“Sweet is in the springhouse. Sour and buttermilk in the pantry.”

DiVieres always drank wine with their dinner. She expected that was gone, too.

“Where are the glasses?”

“You lived here for twenty years,” she snapped, wrestling with the hot fruit to keep from burning herself. “Can’t you remember where anything is?”

“It’s been a long time. Besides, you’ve been doing the cooking for two years.”

“And everything is exactly where it was when I came.”
She set the hot bowl on the table and turned to him. “Your grandfather said he wouldn’t have any Mexican wench messing about in his house. He said everything had been put where it was by a good American woman, and I was to leave things alone if I knew what was good for me.”

She turned back to put the stewed corn in a dish. She hadn’t meant to say anything to Cade. She’d intended to walk away from his ranch with her head held high, but here she was about to burst into tears.

“I was in lots of houses during the war,” he said. “None of them did things the same way, but it didn’t seem to make any difference in getting the food on the table or making it taste good.”

She didn’t have time to decide whether he was trying to make her feel better or trick her. The men poured into the room as if they’d all charged the door to see who could get there first.

The old man won. “Where’s the coffee, girl?” he demanded, going straight to the chair at the head of the table.

He said this every night to irritate her. Pilar set the pot next to his plate without a word.

“No wonder your ranch went bust,” he said with a derisive hoot. “You with your highfalutin ancestors and you still can’t count. You’ve set seven places. There’s only six men here.”

Pilar wondered if the old man was finally getting senile. She knew she’d only taken out six plates.

“I set the extra place,” Cade said.

“What for?”

“Pilar.”

“What’s gotten into you, boy? You know the help doesn’t eat at the table.”

“Where does she eat?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“I imagine it matters to her.”

“She’s not paid for it to matter.”

Pilar didn’t want to eat with the old man. His griping would give her indigestion, but his remark about being paid made her furious. She opened her mouth to speak, saw Cade looking at her, and closed it again. She turned back to the stove. The biscuits were ready to come out.

“How much do you pay her, Gramps?” Cade asked, an edge to his voice.

“She gets paid plenty. Now sit down before the food gets cold.”

“How much?”

Pilar turned back. No one else had sat down at the table, not even Cade’s uncle. The power base had shifted on the Wheeler ranch. The old man might own the place, but Cade was going to run it. He’d stepped right into the job without asking anyone’s permission.

In the past she would have attributed that to his arrogance, his assumption that whatever he did was right, but there was nothing of arrogance or conceit about him now. Only confidence.

“He doesn’t pay me anything,” Pilar said. “I take care of him and your uncle in exchange for his letting me and my grandmother live here.”

“Sit down and eat,” the old man grumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“She only had to take care of two before,” Cade said. “There’s six of us now and more to come. I think Pilar ought to sit down with us and work out a new deal.”

“You think you can come in here and tell me what to do?”

“To some degree. This is your ranch, but it’s our work that’ll make it worth something.”

“That don’t mean she can eat at my table.”

Cade started taking up the plates.

“What are you doing?” his grandfather asked.

“No need for so many plates for just you and Jessie.”

“We may be poor, but I won’t have anybody eating out of the pots.”

“The boys and I will wait and eat with Pilar.”

“Are you crazy?” his grandfather asked.

“What’s crazy about wanting a pretty woman across the table?” Owen winked at Pilar. “I’d eat on the steps just to look at her.”

“Please, sit down,” Pilar said, angry to find herself the center of this disagreement. “The food will get cold.”

“We’re used to cold food,” Cade said. “You can’t light cook fires when you’re on a night raid.”

“You’re not raiding anybody now,” the old man said. “Sit down.”

“We’ll be outside,” Cade said to Pilar. “Let me know when he’s finished.”

Pilar couldn’t believe her eyes when the four young men filed out of the room.

Jessie Wheeler looked from his brother to where his great-nephew had disappeared through the door.

“Stop twisting about like a sock in the wind,” his brother shouted. “Sit down.”

“I’ll wait.” Jessie turned and walked out.

Earl sat in stunned silence a moment before he turned on Pilar. “Now see what you’ve done, you foreign hussy. You’ve turned my own grandson against me.”

“Don’t blame me,” Pilar fired right back. “I didn’t make you mean and spiteful. I don’t blame him for not wanting
to eat with you. I’m surprised he wanted to come back at all.”

Pilar knew the old man’s meanness stemmed from his feeling of impotence, but it was time he learned that things had changed. The young men were coming back to Texas. Old men like him would soon be moved to the sidelines whether they liked it or not. She thought Cade would try to protect his grandfather’s feelings. He seemed to have grown up and matured since he’d left, but he also had the habit of command.

“What did you do to him?” Earl demanded.

“I was too busy putting food on the table to do anything,” Pilar said. “Eat your food and stop acting foolish.”

She was angry that all her work had gone for naught. She had a table covered with food she’d worked hard to prepare and nobody to eat it because of this old man.

“You were trying to entice him to—”

Pilar slammed the second coffeepot down so hard it would have broken if it hadn’t been metal. “I wouldn’t
entice
anyone in your family if he were the last man on the earth. Do you think I don’t know you’ve stolen my family’s land?”

“You had too much,” the old man said, dismissing her accusation as though it were of no consequence. “Besides, it was my protection that kept your family from losing the whole grant.”

“It doesn’t change the fact you’re a thief. I’m a Cordoba. My grandmother can trace her family back a thousand years. We don’t have anything to do with thieves.”

“Your father was a diViere and your grandfather before him. They might think themselves fancy French aristocrats, but they were nothing but lazy fools. I’m not ashamed of being common, but I’d be ashamed of being a fool.”

“I’m not a fool.”

“No, you’ve got more sense than the rest of your family put together. Now go outside and tell my stiff-necked grandson to come eat his supper before it gets cold. He can’t put this ranch back on its feet with a belly full of nothing but pride.”

“I don’t know why not. You’ve held it without much more.”

She hated to say anything nice about the old man to his face, but he had held this ranch against a bunch of vicious and determined squatters. He’d kept her and her grandmother safe at the same time.

The old man actually grinned. “That’s all I had when I came to Texas, just me, Jessie, and my young son.” He stopped talking abruptly, frowned. “No sense chattering on to you. Go get those boys.”

Pilar couldn’t decide whether Earl was proud his grandson had stood up to him or just pretending not to care. She had to admire the old bull. And with admiration came tolerance, even a little understanding. But at times like this, it was hard not to loathe him.

“And don’t forget to set yourself a place,” Earl said as she went through the door. “I don’t want to give that young whippersnapper an excuse to walk out on me again.”

Yes, she definitely heard the pride of an old bull seeing the young bull about to take over.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Owen asked as he passed his plate a third time. “Say the word, and I’ll marry you tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?” Cade asked.

“How about it?” his irrepressible cousin asked “We could
get the old man to perform the ceremony. Cade says he’s a justice of the peace.”

“Not anymore,” Earl said.

Owen winked at Pilar again. “We can ride into San Antonio. We’ll have all night to celebrate.”

Cade stifled a desire to punch his cousin in his much-too-active mouth. He was surprised Pilar hadn’t left the table. She had been reared by her grandmother to think herself a Spanish aristocrat. She’d been affianced to a distant cousin in Mexico since she was ten.

But then the war came, and the cousin never appeared. Cade didn’t know what Pilar did after Laveau left for the army, but somewhere in her tired aristocratic background lurked a strong determination to survive, a willingness to do whatever was necessary to stay alive. It must have been difficult for her to learn to cook. More difficult to submit to working for his grandfather.

“Be quiet, Owen,” Cade said. “You’re embarrassing her.”

Owen appealed directly to Pilar. “Am I embarrassing you by saying you’re beautiful?”

“Seems to me I heard more about her cooking,” Cade said.

“That’s your fault,” Owen said. “If you’d been a better cook, I wouldn’t be too starved to devote my full attention to her beauty.”

“You cook?” Pilar asked in obvious disbelief.

“If you could call what he does to food cooking,” Holt said.

“Only ones worse than Cade were Holt and me,” Owen said between mouthfuls of meat pie.

“What about Rafe?” Pilar asked.

“Rafe supplied the food,” Owen said. “We never asked where he found it.”

Cade had been uneasy about returning to the table after his grandfather’s initial refusal to allow Pilar to eat with them. He had been prepared for some sort of trick—the old man wasn’t used to being told what to do—but his grandfather now paid little attention to Cade or Pilar, none at all to Owen.

Pilar had appeared reluctant to join in the conversation even when directly addressed. She’d tried to use the excuse of having to serve the meal, but the men had spent four years serving themselves. They got up to get extra coffee or refill a bowl from a pot on the stove.

“Cade was your captain,” Pilar said. “I didn’t think captains cooked.”

“We soon learned to let every man do what he did best,” Cade said.

“I hope you’re good at wrangling horses,” Earl said, suddenly entering the conversation. “Our riding stock is wild as antelope and peevish as mossyback steers.”