The Texan's Bride (44 page)

His teeth nibbled the lobe of her ear, and he said, “Loving. He wants regular daily, make that twice-daily, loving. With you.”

“What!” Katie’s spine snapped straight. “Why that dirty old man. I never—”

Lowering her gently to the ground, he rose above her, planted a wet, sweet-candy kiss on her mouth, and said, “Actually you have. Not an hour ago, in fact.”

Katie found it hard to think when he was doing all those delicious things to her body. She fought for control for a full minute and a half before giving herself up to his magic. And, after all, she had wanted a distraction, hadn’t she?

Only after they both found their pleasure, as they lay side by side, their hands linked while the warm breeze dried the sheen of perspiration from their bodies, did she remember. “You,” she groaned. She freed her hand and punched him. “Finian Trahern. All the time, it was you.”

“Aye,” he said in a false brogue, wiggling his eyebrows lecherously, “and I’m a’thinkin’ it’ll take a lifetime for ye to work off the debt.” Then suddenly he sobered. “So just make sure you’re around to do it, Katie Kincaid.”

“Oh, Branch.” She realized that the time had come to tell him. As much as she hated the idea, there was no more putting it off. There had been enough lies between them; there was room for no more. “I can’t go to Riverrun with you, Branch. I have to disappear. No matter how rigged that trial was, I’m still a convicted murderer sentenced to hang. I know how much Riverrun means to you; I know how long you waited to return. It’s your future, and I’ll not take that from you.”

“You and my son are my future, woman.” Branch got to his feet, raked his fingers through his hair, and began pacing the spring’s bank as he railed at her. “Do you really think a house and a few lousy acres of sugarcane are worth more than my family to me? Dammit, Kate. If you left me again, you’d take my heart with you.”

“It’s not like that. Branch. I only thought—”

He braced his hands on his hips. “I know what you thought. St. Kathleen of Nacogdoches, martyred for money. For the sake of an inheritance. Well, by God, woman, that doesn’t show much respect for me, now, does it? What makes you think I can’t build a home as grand as Riverrun? Am I that much less of a man than my father? Am I so little a man that I must wait for someone to die to amount to anything? Well, thank you, Mrs. Kincaid. It’s so nice knowing you’ve such confidence in your husband.”

“Oh, Branch.” Katie reached for him, but he turned away. “That’s not it at all,” she chided. “What about your father? All these years you’ve been estranged, and now…”

“What do you mean ‘now’?” he roared. “Now that he lied to my wife and told her I was dying? He was there, Kate, in Shelbyville, to watch you hang. You think I could live with him after that?”

Katie looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. Softly, she said, “I’ve already taken one son from him, I’ll not take another.”

“Shit. That’s a bunch of damn shit.” At the venom in his tone, she reared back.

“Look,” he said, “you are not responsible for what happened to Rob. Rob’s responsible, Rob and Jack Strickland.”

Katie looked at Branch in surprise.

“It’s true,” he demanded. “Rob was an adult; he made his own choice, for reasons you know nothing about. Kate, you helped my brother when he needed help, and for that I’m grateful. I don’t ever want to hear any guilt out of you over that again.”

A hollow ache tightened Katie’s throat as she argued, “But, Branch, he went into that cabin for me, for my baby. He didn’t have to…”

“Yes, he did,” Branch stated flatly. “He was ten years old when he started a fire in the attic of our grandparent’s home. It got away from him. He ran and hid instead of telling anyone about it. Pa’s folks both died in that fire. So did my younger sister and my mother. I was seven. He let them believe I did it.”

Branch picked up a rock and tossed it into the stream. He added, “I think eventually it got to him. He regretted it. That’s why he went after your daughter. He was trying to make up for the other. I’ve got an idea he’d have told Pa then what really happened in Virginia. Only he died.” Branch plopped back down on the grass a few feet away from Katie.

He looked at her and said earnestly, “Pa didn’t have diddly-squat to do with me from the time I was seven. Hell, he sent me away from home for riding a damn horse. Your being with me has nothing to do with how much or how little of his love comes my way. I gave up on him long ago.”

Katie’s heart wept for him. He wore the stoicism of an emotionally battered child impervious to pain after repeated abuse. And when he continued to talk, speaking of herself, his expression didn’t change. “Katie,” he said, “after Ma died, I forgot what love meant. Then I met you, and you filled that emptiness inside me. But Pa had dangled Riverrun before me, and like a fool, I thought that was what I needed.”

He leaned back on his elbows, turned his face toward the sky. “God,” he confessed, “the time we were apart near to destroyed me. I know now what’s important in life, Katie Kincaid. It isn’t Riverrun and Hoss Garrett. I’ve finally grown up, Kate. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

Then he looked at her, honest in his vulnerability. “But you can, Sprite. You have the power to tear me into such little pieces, there won’t be any gluing back together. I can’t lose you again. It’d kill me. Promise me, Katie, promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“Oh, Branch.” Her voice caught in her throat as she stood and went to him, kneeling before him and laying her head in his lap. “I promise. I promise, Branch Garrett, I’ll never leave you again.”

He stroked her hair, softly saying, “Kincaid, I want to be Branch Kincaid again, if it’s all the same to you. And Branch Kincaid has a notion to raise cattle, build a ranch. You don’t need slave labor for that, and there’s plenty of land in the west.” His lips twisted in a wry smile as he added, “Besides, you’ve always gotten along well with the Indians.”

He pulled her into his lap. Hugging her tight, he asked, “How ’bout it, Mrs. Kincaid? Want to get our boy and head west?”

Katie lifted her head and smiled through watery eyes. “There’s nothing I’d rather do more, Mr. Kincaid.”

CHAPTER 22

DOUBLE K RANCH, 1848

BRANCH KINCAID APPROACHED THE final turn on the road to the ranch house with two thoughts on his mind—peach cobbler and Katie Kincaid. Together, they were the closest thing to paradise his tongue had ever tasted. And it was just about the right season, too. The new baby turned two months old today, and the fruit hanging on the trees ought to be ripe for the picking.

Damn, it’ll be good to get home
, he thought. The trip into Dallas had taken only two days, but he worried about Katie and the boys. Of course, Daniel Gallagher would defend his sister and her family with his life, of that Branch had no doubt. Even had they not been family, his position as ranch foreman would have assured Daniel’s protectiveness.

Branch didn’t expect trouble, however. Soon after settling here a little over a year ago, he’d gone out of his way to make peace with the Tonkawa Indians that lived around the new settlement of Dallas. No, he didn’t worry, just missed his family something fierce.

Taking the road’s curve at a gallop, Branch smiled at the welcome sight of the dogtrot style cabin that was his ranch’s “Big House.” No six columns here, but a two room dwelling made of roughhewn logs chinked with mud, and a couple of limestone fireplaces to warm them in the winter and cook on year round.

No home in the world could be more grand.

From one chimney, a thin wisp of smoke curled into the endless blue sky. Branch wrinkled his nose and sniffed. Did he imagine it, or was he catching a whiff of that heavenly concoction of his dreams? “Sprite, you certainly know the way to a man’s heart,” he said to himself, grinning. Feeling his heat rise, he added, “Not to mention other parts.”

Katie came out onto the porch to meet him. A smudged, once-white apron covered her dress of buttercup yellow, and ringlets of auburn escaped her braid, framing the face that shone with happiness. “You’re back!” she cried, leaping off the porch and into his sweaty embrace.

“How did you guess?” he teased.

She pulled away, wrinkling her nose. “I could smell you coming.”

“Witch.” Placing his hands around her waist, he lifted her up and kissed her, long and thoroughly. He tickled her as he set her down, then swatted her fanny. “Where are my boys?” he asked, turning to step onto the porch.

Katie held him back. “Wait, Branch,” she said. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.” At his look of alarm, she hastened to assure him, “They’re fine. Everyone is. But we have a visitor, Branch.”

He lifted an eyebrow. Katie wiped her hands on the apron. “Just give him a chance, love. Listen to him.”

Branch’s gut clenched. Well, if that didn’t sound like trouble, he wasn’t a new papa. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Hoss Garrett sat in Katie’s rocking chair, reading a book to Johnny. His gaze held Branch’s for two squeaks of the rocker before Johnny interrupted, clapping his hands and shouting, “Papa, you’re home! Look who came to see us. It’s my Grampa. He likes to read to me just like you. Can we finish this story, please, Papa?”

“Sure, son,” Branch said. He hung his hat on a peg hammered into the wall beside the door. “Where’s the baby?”

Katie said, “He’s asleep in the other room.” Branch headed for the side door to peek in on his infant son, but Katie stopped him. “Give him a few more minutes, please love? I’ve just put him down, and I want him to get good and asleep before you go in there.”

Branch nodded and crossed the room to the fireplace.

He bent down and peered into the kettle that hung above the glowing coals. “Stew for supper?” he asked.

“Brunswick,” Katie answered.

“What’s the meat?”

“Squirrel.”

Branch pursed his lips. She’d not served him such a stew since the day they met. What was she up to? He shrugged and asked, “Your muffins hot?”

“The corn bread is ready. We’ll have dinner as soon as you wash up. Dessert will wait until after you talk with your father, or”—she sent him a pointed look—“later. We’ll just have to see if it turns out all right.”

With brows lowered thunderously, Branch grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her near. He whispered in her ear. “Don’t you be trying to blackmail me, Sprite. I don’t cotton to it, you ought to know by now.”

Katie smiled sweetly and said, “On your way to the well, would you check the squirrel traps for me, please? I just might need a couple more before the evening’s done.”

Branch shook his head at her and walked outside. Tension made his movements sharp and awkward as he washed. He entered his bedroom and changed into a clean pair of denims and a brand new homespun shirt Katie had made before crossing the dogtrot to confront his unwelcome visitor.

Johnny’s excited questions and innocent chatter kept the supper conversation light. Branch told of his trip to town and mentioned a barn raising they’d been invited to in two weeks. He never spoke directly to Hoss Garrett, but he did ask after his brother-in-law. Daniel usually ate supper with them.

“I took him something earlier,” Katie answered. “He thought maybe just the family should eat together this evening.”

Branch glared at his father. “Daniel is family.”

Katie rolled her eyes and stood. “Come on, Squirt,” she said to Johnny, “you get to sleep with Uncle Daniel tonight in the bunkhouse.”

“Yippee!” the boy scrambled from his chair. He headed for the door, then stopped and turned. “Papa, in the morning can I come wake you up and you and me go fishing like you said we might before you took your trip?”

Branch frowned but allowed the boy to see the teasing sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t know, how early do you plan on waking me?”

Johnny shook his head. “Not before two or three.”

Branch grinned, “Make it five or six, and you’ve got a deal.” Johnny ran to his father and threw his arms around his waist. “Thank you, Papa. I love you. I’m glad you’re home.”

Branch ruffled the boy’s strawberry-blond hair. “I’m glad, too. And I love you, too. Now, skedaddle off to bed, young’un, and don’t you dare show yourself in my room before five o’clock.”

“Yessir. G’night. G’night, Grampa.” Johnny flew out the front door. Katie gave Branch a measured look before following her son outside and shutting the door behind her.

Hoss Garrett leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re real good with your boy.”

“Yep, well. It’s easy to do. I love him.” Branch rose from his seat. He carried his dishes to the water basin and began to wash them.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Hoss asked, “You do dishes around here?”

“She mends fences.”

Hoss nodded. “She does at that.” He stood and finished clearing the table, then picked up a towel and a dish to dry. He cleared his throat a couple of times before gruffly saying, “I remember when I used to take you fishing when you were about his age. Once you caught a catfish almost as big as you were. You recall that?”

“I make it a practice not to remember my life before the Virginia fire.”

Spitting an obscenity, Garrett tossed down the towel. “Fine, here it is. I came to tell you I was wrong. I’m sorry. I never should have sent your wife away from Austin.”

“You told her I was dying,” Branch interrupted flatly.

“Dammit, son, I thought you
were
dying. I should have known that you were too stubborn to do it, especially since it was my shot that would have killed you. I died a thousand deaths when I saw you step in front of that bullet.”

Branch said nothing, holding a crockery bowl up before his eyes, checking its cleanliness. Hoss pushed his fingers through his thick gray hair and said with a sigh, “Guilt was a devil ridin’ my shoulder that day, and I said some ornery things to your woman. I’ve already apologized to her, and I’m trying to do the same here with you.”

“You went to watch her die.”

Hoss scowled. “It was the boy. I thought to check on him, discover the arrangements she’d made. I wondered if he was yours.”