WM02 - Texas Princess (23 page)

He ate a few bites without talking as if he were thinking over what she had said.

She heard the back door slam and guessed Tobin was up. He always headed to the barn before sitting down to breakfast. He’d stop and l two buckets of water before he reached them so she’d probably have time to nish feeding the kid.

“You ful grown?” Drum asked as he chewed the last piece of biscuit.

Sage wasn’t sure it was a proper question, but she said, “Yes.”

“You been with a man?” he asked as if he thought the question quite proper.

Sage fought down a blush. She guessed in the outlaw camp a woman was considered grown when she’d slept with a man. “That’s none of your business. Do you want the rest of the milk?”

He studied her as if he’d never encountered anyone like her.

She lifted the cup.

He nodded once and downed the last of the milk. “Thanks,” he said as she wiped his mouth.

“You’re welcome.” She stood, wishing her face didn’t feel so warm. “Tobin wil check on you later.”

She was halfway back to the house before she realized she hadn’t retied the gag.

Marching on, her head down, she decided she would not go back. Let Tobin deal with the boy.

Just a boy! One half-grown kid had embarrassed her with a simple question. Of course she was a woman ful y grown even if she hadn’t slept with a man.

Her cheeks burned even warmer as she thought of the way Michael had kissed her. It had been far more than a friendly kiss. And when he’d helped her on her horse that last day, he’d let his hand brush along the side of her breast. It was probably an accident, but she’d looked in his eyes and known what he was thinking. He might have been too scared of her brothers or too much a gentleman to say anything, but she knew that the next time they met they’d be doing more than kissing.

Sage almost giggled. She was ready. Michael might be shocked at how ready. The

rst time they could manage to be alone again she planned to surprise him with her boldness. She’d had almost six months to think about the way he “almost” accidental y touched her, and she planned to make sure the accident happened again.

The thought of her ranger’s big hand on her bare skin made her body warm al the way to her toes. She’d be nineteen next month, almost an old maid. She not only wanted his touch, she planned to do some exploring of her own. The idea that Michael might al ow her, even want her, to explore made Sage laugh at how absolutely, positively wicked her thoughts were.

“Morning.” Tobin startled her as she stepped on the porch.

She’d expected him to be by the wel , or already in the barn, not just standing on the porch. “What is it?” she asked. Of al her brothers, Tobin was the most predictable.

She could name the day of the week by what color shirt he had on. Blue, she noted, smiling. It was Wednesday.

“Want to ride the border with me before breakfast?” Tobin said.

Sage nodded and they turned toward the corral. Five minutes later they were riding a wide circle around the ranch and Tobin hadn’t said another word. Sage gave him time.

Travis might storm with anger and Teagen often mumbled for hours about a problem before he shared it with anyone, but Tobin was usual y silent when something bothered him. As always, he’d have to nd his own time to tel it.

One thing they both loved dearly was riding. Al the Mc-Murrays lived on horseback.

When Tobin stopped near their parents’ graves and stepped down from his horse, Sage did the same.

She knew Tobin visited this place more than any of them. Maybe because he’d been at the house with their mother when she’d died. He’d only been six, but somehow he must have felt he should have done more. Once he told Sage that when their mother cal ed for him to come get the baby, he hadn’t even asked if there was anything he could do for their mother. He’d just carried Sage to the porch, red a round, and waited for his brothers to come home. By the time they rode in, their mother was dead.

Sage walked to the beautiful spot where the boys had buried Autumn McMurray.

They’d put up a cross for their father too even though his body had been burned on a pile after the mission at Goliad fel . It didn’t matter that his body was missing, they al knew Andrew’s heart was here on the ranch he loved, lying next to the woman he loved.

“I like this spot.” Tobin took her hand.

“Me too,” she whispered. “It’s the most beautiful place on the ranch. Even though I never knew them, I can feel our parents here.”

“Me too,” he answered. “It’s where I want to rest someday.”

Sage had never thought about her own death. It seemed too far away.

For a while, they sat in silence on a natural rock ledge that shielded the graves from the north wind. Sage waited, knowing her brother would nd his time.

The air was stil cold, but the sun warmed her face. She could hear mourning doves in the pasture below them making soft cal s to one another. Tobin took her gloved hand in his.

“I’ve got something to tel you and I didn’t know where would be the right place. I thought here, next to Mom and Dad, might be right.”

Sage nodded wondering what could be so important to say that he brought her al the way out here. She mental y counted down the people she loved. Travis and Rainey were in Austin, safe as far as she knew. She’d checked on Teagen before dawn and he was snoring like a bear bedded down for the winter. Martha looked the same as always and Tobin sat right beside her. Al had to be wel .

“I stopped by the trading post last night and checked to see if we had any mail. I knew Liberty would want to know any news about her father as soon as possible.”

Sage nodded again, feeling a knot in her stomach tighten. Something was wrong.

“Is the senator al right?”

“As far as I know. There was a letter from Travis. He said he was on his way home.”

Tobin closed his eyes, then nished, “With Michael’s body.”

For a moment Sage felt nothing. She tried to put his words together so that they made sense. “He’s bringing Michael here to recover.”

“No,” Tobin answered. “To be buried here.”

Pain, raw and hot, lanced through her. “No,” she whispered, tugging away her hand.

Tobin reached for her but she was on her feet.

“No!”

Before he could catch her, she was running. In seconds she was on her horse riding across the open country trying to outrun what he’d told her.

She didn’t look back. She couldn’t look back. Not at the place where they would be burying her only love. Rubbing her mouth, Sage wished she could rub away the memory of Michael’s kiss. She wanted to forget al about him—al the hours and days of dear memories of how they’d met and when they’d talked and how he’d held her against him like he’d never let go. She wished she could drain the sound of his gentle words from her mind. Promises. Endearments. Whispers of a forever.

Only he’d lied. He’d let go.

The wind dried her tears as she rode toward Whispering Mountain. At the base, she jumped from her horse and ran up the rocky slope until she fel , scraping her hands and knees on the rough rocks.

Sage slammed her st into the mountain and yel ed, “It’s not fair! I don’t even get to dream my future. I have no future. Michael is dead.” He’d been the only man she’d met al her life that she thought she could love forever, could grow old with, could sleep beside, and he hadn’t loved her enough to stay around long enough to make her a real woman.

She curled between the rocks and sobbed so hard she thought her insides would fal out. Tears fel on the ground, pooling against her face, but she didn’t care. Michael was dead.

A few hours later, Tobin found her. She didn’t open her eyes when he picked her up and carried her to his horse. He rode slowly home with her holding tight to his shirt.

He didn’t try to say anything. He knew no words would comfort her.

When they reached the barn, Tobin careful y stepped down from his horse and turned toward the house. Her face was buried against his shoulder.

As he moved past the rst stal , the Roak shouted, “What’d you do to her?”

Tobin glanced over at the boy. He’d forgotten al about him. “Nothing.”

The kid struggled against his ropes. “If you hurt her, McMurray...”

For a moment Tobin just stared. The kid looked as if he’d gladly kil him. Then Tobin realized Roak thought he’d hurt his own sister. The idea made him angry and then sad that the boy would even think such a thing was possible.

Tobin softened slightly. He stared straight at the dark eyes so ful of anger. “She’s not hurt physical y. She just learned that the man she cared about died.”

The kid looked from Tobin to Sage. “Oh,” he said, almost in a whisper.

Tobin moved toward the house as he felt Sage cry softly against his shirt.

chapter 19

Y

liberty watched Tobin walk toward the house

with his little sister in his arms. She’d known when Martha said they’d gone riding that Tobin was tel ing Sage about Michael.

She rushed toward them, then fel into step beside Tobin. He carried Sage to her room and Liberty wiped dirt from the girl’s face. Sage always put on such a big front as if she were as tal as her brothers, but now, curled beneath a blanket, she looked smal and very young.

Tobin watched helplessly from the foot of his sister’s bed. Sadness lined his handsome face. Liberty knew he’d take Sage’s pain if he could.

Sage was so stil she frightened Liberty. A part of her seemed to have died with Michael. They waited as the youngest McMurray took the loss into both her mind and heart.

Final y, Sage looked at her brother and whispered, “You’re right. We’l bury him on McMurray land. Then at least I can visit his grave.” Turning into her pil ow, she let grief overtake her.

Tobin knelt beside his sister’s bed and spread his big hand across her back in comfort.

“He was a good man, Sage. You were right to care about him.”

She turned toward him, brushing aside tears. “I know. I loved him, Tob.”

Liberty thought of the rangers who often rode guard with her father. They al looked pretty much the same to her. She could have seen Michael and not even known it. In fact she couldn’t remember that she’d ever addressed one of them directly. They put their lives in danger often and this was the rst time Liberty thought about the fact that they had families and loved ones. She felt shame for being so shal ow.

Sage lay silent for a while as though forcing the pieces of her mind and life to meld back together. Slowly, she sat up and shoved a nal tear aside with her st. “We have to be ready for them. There’s much to do.”

Tobin looked relieved that his sister was back with him.

“I wil help anyway I can,” Liberty offered.

Sage reached for her hand, silently sealing their friendship. “Wil you check on Teagen this morning? You may have to bul y him, but I don’t want him trying to do too much until he recovers.”

“There is no need,” an angry voice sounded from the doorway. “I’m ne. I found Travis’s letter.” He didn’t need to say more.

Liberty met his hard eyes and guessed Teagen McMurray wasn’t too happy to have a stranger among them. He might have a bandage on his head and one arm in a sling, but nothing about the man looked soft. She’d have more luck bul ying a rattler than the oldest McMurray.

She nodded her greeting and he returned with a slight bow of his head toward her before continuing, “I’l stand guard and see no one comes after our guest today.” His attention turned back to Sage. “You and Tobin do what needs to be done.”

Liberty saw it then, the way the McMurrays almost read one another’s thoughts. She’d never been that close to anyone. No wonder Tobin rarely talked: he’d grown up knowing what al around him were thinking without asking.

They moved to the dining room table and sat down. Martha brought coffee then stood at the door to listen.

“First, Michael wil need a cofn.” Sage looked at Tobin. “Do we have time to cut a few of the tal pine for the job? I think he’d like that.”

Tobin nodded. “There are only two carpenters left over at the site where Travis’s house is being built. They’re working on doors and windows, but I’l have them start on the cofn as soon as I get back with the wood.”

“And I’l get Travis and Rainey’s room ready here. It’s too cold for them to sleep out at the building site.” She fought tears a moment, then added, “I’l ride into town and get navy wool to line his box. Michael told me once that he liked blue.”

Liberty remembered that Tobin said the McMurrays didn’t have ranch hands often, so she guessed there would be no mourners except family. “When wil the funeral be?”

she asked.

They al seemed to gure it out at the same time, but it was Teagen who said, “Dawn tomorrow, assuming they make it in tonight.” The cofn needed to be ready when Travis arrived with Michael.

As if she’d been part of the team forever, Liberty worked readying rooms and helping Sage make a blue blanket and liner for the cofn. Just before noon two men rattled across the pasture with a wagon load of carpentry tools. They set up in the bunkhouse waiting for Tobin to return with the pine.

Martha took the news of Michael’s death without comment. She did what she did every day of her life. She cooked and cleaned. Teagen did as promised, he stood guard.

When Tobin returned with the wood, he talked with Teagen for a few moments, then headed toward the corral.

Liberty stepped out on the back porch in time to watch Tobin go. They hadn’t been alone al morning and she wished he had enough time to hold her. It seemed a tornado of emotions ew around her and Liberty needed his comfort if only for one touch. But he had other problems, it seemed, far more important than she was right now.

She lifted the cup in her hand toward Teagen. “Martha thought you might want a cup.”

“Thanks,” Teagen said, without looking at her.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, wondering if the man ever smiled. Tobin and he were so much alike physical y and so different in al other ways. She had a feeling the oldest McMurray never backed down from a ght or hesitated when he thought something needed saying.