Texas Homecoming (6 page)

Pilar was too used to having her abilities underrated to be upset. She spent several hours that night trying to decide which of the men might be the most susceptible to her.

She kept coming back to Cade.

The fact that they had known each other since childhood might cause him to be more relaxed around her than men who didn’t know her and were suspicious. Cade had gone out of his way to be helpful. Maybe he felt guilty that a Wheeler had had to depend on a diViere. That ought to make him more anxious to please her, maybe anxious enough to tell her what she needed to know.

But there was the fact that he was extremely attractive. From what her grandmother said, all handsome men—unless they were diVieres or Cordobas—were untrustworthy, a veritable collection of snakes in the grass who specialized in using their looks and charm to dupe unwary females. Her grandmother hadn’t explained just what had happened to these unfortunate women, but Pilar believed they’d probably been forced to marry someone of less than noble birth or suitable fortune. In her grandmother’s estimation, a woman couldn’t suffer a worse fate.

But Pilar was in no danger of being forced to marry
Cade, even if she flirted outrageously. Their relationship as enemies was so well defined and of such long standing, nothing could change it. She could be reckless in perfect safety.

She’d just decided that Cade would be her target when she heard a mournful howl from Bullet, followed quickly by a couple of rifle shots. She snatched up a shawl, threw it over her shoulders, and ran out of her bedroom to the kitchen. She looked through the windows.

Moonlight enabled her to see the bunkhouse. Bullet was still howling, but she couldn’t see him. She saw the bunkhouse door open and a rifle barrel appear, followed soon after by Earl in his long johns. Despite the potential danger, she smiled at the sight of his spider-thin shanks as he scurried across the yard in the direction of the shots.

“What is it?” her grandmother asked from the doorway of her bedroom.

“I don’t know. I’ll find out.”

“Stay inside. It could be squatters.”

“It could also be Cade coming back.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“He said they rode during the night for most of the war. Working at night is probably normal for him.”

“That may be, but it’s even more reason for you to remain out of sight.” Her grandmother started in on her litany of Wheeler sins, but Pilar opened the door and slipped onto the porch, ignoring the fact that only a shawl covered her bare shoulders.

Jessie emerged from the bunkhouse carrying a rifle.

“Is it Cade?” she called out.

“It could be anybody,” he replied in a loud whisper. “Stay at the house.” Then he disappeared.

The ranch yard looked bleached and colorless in the
moonlight, shadows deep black, everything else milky pale. The silence felt deeper, bigger, stronger than usual. The night seemed to reach out and wrap itself around her, welcoming yet ominous. What should have been a familiar landscape had become strange, its features nearly unrecognizable.

Bullet was getting closer all the time. His howls changed into a series of yelps that progressed to a whine. Finally he burst forth with an agitated “yip-yip” that caused Pilar to fear he’d been injured by one of the shots.

“What the hell are you doing to my dog!” Earl’s angry voice carried easily through the night as Broc came into view down the trail. He strode openly, clearly not worried about hidden danger. Behind him, a rope around his neck, trotted a dispirited and reluctant Bullet.

“I’m bringing this damned hound dog to you,” Broc replied, clearly irritated. “You ought to lock him up in the bunkhouse.”

“I’m not locking him up anywhere,” Earl said, darting from behind the bunkhouse. “He’s the best watchdog in Texas.”

Broc dragged Bullet into the ranch yard before taking the rope from his neck. “He might have heard the squatters before you did, but he wasn’t warning you. He was begging you to protect him. That dog is yella!”

Pilar thought Earl would have a seizure right there. He charged Broc like a longhorn cow in defense of her calf, waving his rifle at him like a pointed finger.

“If you wasn’t a guest in my house, I’d put a bullet in you. There’s not a better dog in Texas.”

“Then God help Texas.” Broc pushed a cringing Bullet toward Earl. “There was somebody in one of those dry creek beds. I heard him without the help of your
watchdog.
I was about to try to get behind him when that
animal
started howling like he’d stepped on a cactus.”

“He was trying to warn you, you fool,” Earl shouted.

“The cowardly bag of bones poked his nose in my belly and practically crawled under me.”

“That’s his way of waking you up,” Earl said.

“Believe what you want. Just keep him away from me.”

Earl had launched into a scurrilous depiction of the history of Broc’s family, past and present, with some pointed observations on the circumstances of his birth, when Bullet started to whine. Earl only shouted louder. Even Pilar could tell that someone was coming and wasn’t trying to be quiet about it.

“Look at your dog now,” Broc said. “You can’t tell me he’s not a coward.”

Bullet had taken up a position behind Earl and set up a mournful howl. He was pushing up behind Earl, his head between Earl’s legs.

“He’s trying to get me to go after the damned sneaks,” Earl argued.

“That’s nobody trying to sneak in. They’re riding in making plenty of noise. I suspect it’s Cade. He always did like night better than day. You can tell your dog to stop sticking his nose up your butt. There’s nobody going to hurt him this time.”

Earl started shouting at Broc again. Pilar focused her attention on the patch of silvery landscape to the west. She made out moving shapes in the distance. Lots of shapes. Horses. As they got closer, she heard shouts, yells, and calls of the men driving them.

Pilar experienced an unexpected feeling of excitement. She moved a few steps from the door, reached out for a rail post, leaned against it. She told herself it was relief
that the men were safe, that they had found the horses, that they would be able to round up and sell their cows, that somehow this would lead to her and her grandmother going home and everything being all right again. She told herself it was relief that whoever was out in the brush was gone, that they wouldn’t come back, with so many men at the ranch.

But the moment the riders came close enough for her to identify individual men, she knew it was all a lie. She knew that every bit of her excitement was for Cade’s return.

Pilar sagged against the rail post, needing the support to keep her from sinking to the floor. How could this be? Cade had been her enemy her whole life.

Just looking at him caused her heart to beat faster. The moonlight was incapable of turning him into a ghostly image. He looked as vibrantly alive, as smilingly handsome as ever. All the men were in high spirits, but his good humor leapt the distance between them. She could almost believe he was reaching out to her, pulling her into the aura of high spirits that surrounded him. When he looked at her and let out a whoop, she was certain of it. When he separated from the group and rode toward her, she felt her strength drain away.

He leaned out of his saddle to shake hands with Broc, spoke to his grandfather, then brought his horse right up to the steps. He looked down at her with a look that hurtled her back to the day he’d swept her up on his horse for that impossible ride, a juggernaut driving all before him.

That’s how he looked tonight—happy, confident, successful, and so handsome it was impossible not to smile back.

“We brought back more than fifty horses and we’re starved,” he said. “If I help, do you think you could rustle up something for us to eat?”

Chapter Six

As he breathed deeply to savor the aroma of stewed beef, a smile of contentment spread over Cade’s whole face. “You can’t know how often I’ve dreamed of this,” he said to Pilar. “A man can get awfully tired of his own cooking.”

“Especially when he’s no good at it,” Owen said.

Pilar had been a little angry that Cade’s first words to her had concerned food. Consequently she didn’t understand why she didn’t mind cooking so late at night or why she was actually cheerful. She should have been furious.

“Sit still until I finish sewing up this wound,” Holt said to Owen. “You’re lucky that mare didn’t kick you. Not even your hard head could withstand such a blow.”

A mustang had charged Owen’s mount, knocked him out of the saddle, and caused him to cut his head on a rock. Holt cleaned and stitched Owen’s wound while Cade helped Pilar. Rafe and Broc had gone with Earl and Jessie to inspect the aqueduct used to carry water from the creek
to the garden. Fifty horses would use up all the water in the well before morning.

“He’s not seriously hurt,” Cade said to Pilar, giving her a wink. “He just pretended so he could get to the kitchen before anyone else.”

“I’m starved. I couldn’t swallow a mouthful of that stuff you burned,” Owen said.

“I don’t recall having to stuff it down your throat,” Cade said.

“Or you offering to cook,” Holt pointed out to Owen as he wound the bandage around his head.

“We’d have starved if he’d tried to cook,” Cade said. “We let him try once. It was so bad we used it to poison the bluecoats. General Sherman sent out an order that nobody was to eat anything they didn’t cook themselves. He said he couldn’t afford to have his entire army down with diarrhea.”

“Don’t believe him,” Owen said to Pilar. “He’s just jealous I’m more successful with the girls than he is.”

Cade leaned close to Pilar, whispered in her ear. “They were only trying to keep him away from a stove.”

“What lie is he telling?” Owen demanded.

“Would I lie?”

“Yes.”

Even after he moved way, Pilar felt Cade’s closeness, the warmth of his breath on her ear as he whispered to her. It shook her concentration so badly she put sugar in the stewed tomatoes instead of the peaches. She hoped the men would be too hungry to notice.

Cade had been as good as his word. He’d built the fire in the stove, brought in more wood, set the table, fixed the coffee, even helped peel the potatoes. He’d opened cans, got pots off shelves, took cold food out of the storeroom.
But none of this had had the effect of that whispered comment in her ear. Or the smile and wink that followed it. Cade had looked straight at her.
At her and no one else.
The implied intimacy excited her.

It also frightened her.

She wasn’t supposed to be excited about being close to Cade, working with him, brushing against him more than a dozen times. She should have been incensed that he would have the impertinence to whisper in her ear, the effrontery to believe she would tolerate such a show of familiarity, much less welcome it. She should have turned on him immediately, frozen him with a look, blistered him with her words.

Instead she struggled not to blush, not to yield to the giddiness that threatened to swallow her strength. “Everything is ready,” she said, forcing herself to concentrate on ladling the stew into a bowl. “See if the others have gotten back.”

Earl must have been coming up the steps as she spoke. He shoved open the door, nearly obliterating her last words. “I don’t know why the hell you didn’t leave these boys in Virginia. They don’t know a damned thing about nothing.”

“You couldn’t fix the aqueduct?” Cade asked.

“Rafe fixed it just fine,” Broc said. “It just wasn’t the way your grandfather thought it ought to be fixed.”

“What do you know about aqueducts?” Owen asked Rafe.

“That water flows downhill.” Rafe pulled up a chair and sat down at the table.

“I’m going to bed,” Earl said. “There’ll be plenty of work to do in the morning while you boys are lying in bed.”

“Sit down and have a bite,” Cade said.

“I don’t eat in the middle of the night,” Earl said. “It ruins my digestion.”

“Maybe Jessie wants to eat.”

“It ruins his digestion, too.”

“It doesn’t ruin mine,” Broc said, “but Pilar already fed me. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

“You don’t have to go to bed now,” Pilar said.

“Sure I do,” Broc said, grinning. It was disheartening to Pilar to see that his smile made the scar even more unsightly. “Your grandfather won’t have any fun complaining if there isn’t somebody there to hear him.”

“I’d sleep out if I were you,” Cade said.

“I’ve already tried that. His dog tried to hide under me when he heard somebody sneaking down the wash.”

The lighthearted atmosphere disappeared in an instant.

“Did you see who it was?”

“Not a chance with that dratted hound making enough racket to be heard all the way to San Antonio.”

By the time Broc had finished telling Cade about the intruders, he’d forgotten about going to bed early. Pilar poured coffee for him.

“Join us,” Owen said to Pilar, obviously tired of talking about intruders.

“I’ve already eaten,” Pilar said.

“You can’t stand,” Cade said. “It’ll make us too nervous to eat.”

“Not me,” Holt said. Rafe had already served himself.

“Okay,” Pilar said.

Cade pulled a chair up next to Broc. “You’d better sit here. If you sit next to Owen, he’s liable to get a brain fever.”

“Cade will bore you to death,” Owen said. “He can’t
think of two consecutive sentences that don’t have to do with horses, cows, or war.”

“This will give me a chance to practice,” Cade said, beckoning Pilar to sit.

She did. “I suggest you all concentrate on eating,” she said. “If you sleep late, Earl will never let you hear the end of it.”

She didn’t know why she was talking about Earl. She couldn’t think of anybody except Cade, that he was next to her, speaking to her, smiling at her. She tried to withdraw inside herself, but no matter what she did, he remained close. Too close.

She tried to tell herself she would get used to being close to him, that being close to him didn’t matter, that before long it wouldn’t be any different from being close to Owen, Holt, or the others. They were handsome young men in the prime of their lives, charming, energetic, vibrant, masculine enough to arouse feelings in any woman. Maybe it wasn’t just Cade. Maybe it was being around so many men. After all, she hadn’t seen any men except Earl and Jessie for nearly two years.

She had been too young when the men of Texas left for the war to feel the animal attraction she was experiencing now. The energy was palpable, more than enough to disorient her.

It was okay to feel this way as long as it was caused by all four men. It was only dangerous if she felt the same way when she was alone with Cade.

But she had to be alone with him. If she weren’t, she would never learn if Laveau was the traitor they meant to hang.

*          *          *

Cade knew he wasn’t the cleverest man in the world when it came to women. He’d made some mistakes due to ignorance. He’d made even more due to lack of interest, but he was no longer ignorant, and he certainly wasn’t uninterested. But he kept getting conflicting signals from Pilar. One moment he was certain he had her full attention, the next she was doing her best to ignore him.

He had spent a good deal of time over the last few days trying to decide how best to gain her confidence. He’d reached the conclusion that the best way was to make her think he no longer felt the animosity that had kept their families at odds for nearly thirty years. The only way to do that was to be around her as much as possible.

That was partly why he’d offered to help her fix supper. It was also why he’d made certain she sat next to him at the table, why he winked or smiled at her when they shared a joke. But she was acting like a nervous filly being bred for the first time, willing to give it a try but pulling back anxiously just the same.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming, Broc,” Owen said. “I figured you’d be on a stage somewhere.”

Cade’s glance swung to Owen, worried his remarks might have offended, but Owen was watching Broc, intent on his reaction.

“People don’t pay to see anything ugly.”

“Does that mean you’re giving up the stage?” Holt asked.

“Only being on it myself. After being on stage since I was able to walk, I figure I know enough to put together a show of my own. I’d like to take one out West. There’s lots of men in mining towns who’d pay just about anything to watch a pretty woman sing a song and do a little dance.”

“Does it take a lot of money to put together a show?” Holt asked.

“A lot more than I have.”

“I thought that’s why you went back to Memphis.”

“They took one look at my face and told me they had no place for me.”

“Good,” Cade said. “If the cows need singing to, you’re our man.”

Broc’s amusement didn’t mask his bitterness. “My cousins would sure get a laugh out of that.”

“They’ll be laughing out of the other side of their mouths when you have the most famous traveling show in the country,” Owen said.

“Maybe I should hire you as my leading man,” Broc said. “You’re good-looking, charming, and you can lie with a straight face.”

Everyone laughed. “He’s got your number, cousin,” Cade said.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for the stage. I was thinking about being a lawman—you know, being able to shoot people in the name of justice. Seems like a good way to get rid of everybody I don’t like.”

“Could he be talking about you, Cade?” Broc asked.

“He’s too dull to be annoying.” Owen turned to Rafe. “What are you going to do with your share of the money?”

“Maybe I’ll stay here.”

There was something dark and bitter in that man’s past. Even knowing so little about Rafe, Cade was certain he wouldn’t stay in Texas.

“That just leaves you,” Owen said to Holt.

“I need money to set up a practice,” Holt said.

“You won’t make any money here,” Owen said. “Cows aren’t very good about paying their bills.”

“I might go West with Broc. Maybe folks there won’t care about my accent.”

Cade was relieved that Owen didn’t question Holt further. They all knew he’d come to Texas to find the woman he fell in love with during medical school. “Time to pack it in, boys,” Cade said, getting to his feet. “We’ve got fifty horses that need to be reminded what it’s like to have a man on their backs. After four years, I expect they’ve forgotten altogether.”

“I got that dappled gray stallion,” Rafe said.

“He’ll stomp your guts out,” Owen said.

“I’m hoping he’ll try,” Rafe said with what was the closest thing to a grin Cade had ever seen on his face.

“You can have all my ornery ones,” Owen said.

“We’ll help you clear away and wash up,” Holt said to Pilar. “We don’t want you to be up all night.”

“I’ll do it,” Cade said. “You make sure the horses are settled. It’s been a long time since Gramps has had to worry about anything but a lazy old gelding. And don’t stay up bragging about how many horses you’re going to break tomorrow. I’d rather you be awake enough to do something worth bragging about.”

“We’re all waiting to see you on a horse,” Holt said. “We want to see what a
real
Texas cowboy can do.”

“I’m betting the first nag will have him picking cactus out of his bottom,” Owen said.

“If I never had any doubt you were a true Wheeler, I don’t anymore,” Cade said. “You’re too good-looking for your own good, charming as a snake, and mean as sin.”

“What happened to you, cousin?”

“Took after my mama’s side, I guess.”

The quiet the men left behind felt even deeper by contrast, being alone with Pilar more intimate. Pretending to like Pilar to gain information about Laveau was proving unexpectedly difficult. Even dangerous.

He was starting to like her, and it was hard to remember she was the enemy.

When Cade had rolled in at ten o’clock with a herd of horses and four hungry men, she hadn’t complained about his thoughtlessness or fallen into a fit of temper at having to fix a second supper. She didn’t drag her feet or make things difficult. She didn’t say it in so many words, but he could even believe she was glad they were back.

She wasn’t mean-spirited, aggressive, or always looking for ways to make trouble. She was pleasant, cooperative, more than willing to do her share of the work, and she got along with all the men. She seemed the perfect woman for this ranch and this situation.

And he liked having her here. He could barely remember living in a household with a woman. His grandmother had left thirty years before to go back to her family in North Carolina. His mother had left when he was six. His grandfather had always hired men to do the cooking, cleaning, and washing. Having a woman around gave the place an entirely different feeling.

But the stirring deep in his groin had nothing to do with beautiful china, clean clothes, or some feminine style of furnishing a room. It had to do with the fact that Pilar was a beautiful woman to whom he was discovering he had a very strong physical attraction.

“I think you’re just as good-looking as Owen,” Pilar said.

“What?” He had been so deep in thought, he spoke before he realized he had heard what she said.

“I said—”

“Thanks, but everybody knows Owen is the best-looking Wheeler.”

Pilar didn’t look up from the pan of dishes she was washing.
“Men can be good-looking in different ways. Owen is
pretty
attractive. You’re
ruggedly
attractive.”

Cade had spent most of his youth getting by on his looks and high spirits, but coming face to face with the same traits in Owen had caused him to stand back, look at himself, and discover he didn’t like what he saw. Being around a man as truly handsome as Broc had been before he was wounded had convinced Cade he’d been considered handsome only because everybody else was as homely as his grandfather’s hound dog.