A Texan's Honor (27 page)

“Are you certain she's coming back tomorrow?” Bret asked.

“That's what she said,” Bertie said without turning
around, “but she's missed Ida since she moved away. She might decide to stay a day or two.”

Bret was a little surprised that Emily would leave her father, but he was more concerned about what could have driven her to make such a long and tiring ride. She hadn't told him about anything that was bothering her. He wasn't her confidant, but she had become more and more willing to discuss things with him.

This is what you get for thinking she might be in love with you.

He had tried to convince himself that whatever Emily might be feeling for him, it was no more than an attraction for a new and exciting man. There'd be dozens of men in Galveston who would be newer, more exciting, far better looking, who wanted to stay in Texas. Despite the reservations he'd expressed to her, she'd probably be engaged before the end of the first winter.

“Emily wants you to exercise her horses.”

Bertie's voice brought Bret out of his distraction. “Did she say that?”

“You think I'm making it up?” Bertie was glaring at him again.

“No. I'm just surprised she'd trust anybody with her horses.”

“She never has before,” Bertie said as though clinching an argument Bret didn't know they were having.

“It'll take me all morning,” Bret said. “I was hoping to spend the day in the saddle.”

“I'll help,” Jinx offered.

“What do you know about horses?” Bertie demanded.

“Which end bites and which end kicks,” Jinx said with a gap-toothed grin.

“If I want sass, I'll go talk to one of those good-for-nothing cowhands,” Bertie snapped.

“I know how to saddle and unsaddle a horse,” Jinx said in a more subdued voice. “I can ride a little bit, too.”

“Miss Emily wouldn't allow anybody who can ride just
a little bit
up on one of her horses,” Bertie announced. Jinx wilted like a cut flower.

“It would help a lot to have someone get the horses ready and unsaddle them when I'm done,” Bret said.

Jinx's recovery was instantaneous. He opened his mouth, but Bret cut in before he could speak. “You'll have to settle with Bertie about your work first.”

Jinx turned to Bertie, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Don't you go making big eyes at me,” Bertie said. “I'm not soft like Mr. Nolan.”

“I want to be a real cowboy like Mr. Nolan,” Jinx said, his lower lip protruding. “A real cowboy rides horses; he doesn't wash dishes.”

“Well, you're not a real cowboy, are you?” Bertie snapped. “You're still a little boy, and little boys do what they're told. Once you've done your work, you can help Mr. Nolan with the horses, but not before. And don't you go egging him on behind my back,” she said, turning to Bret. “Things haven't been right ever since you got here. What with rustlers in the bunkhouse, Miss Emily riding all over creation like she was a boy, and you shoving orphans off on me, I don't know that I can put up with things much longer.”

“You can't leave Emily and her father,” Bret said. “They couldn't get along without you.”

Bertie didn't say anything, but her sniff was not reassuring.

“Jinx and I will leave as soon as I catch the rustlers,” Bret said.

“Your leaving is not going to fix things,” Bertie said. “Not even taking that troublesome brat with you.” She cast Jinx a look that wasn't nearly as severe as her words before turning back to Bret. “Nor will catching the rustlers. Mr. Sam is going to die and Miss Emily will be left by herself. She thinks she can run this place alone, but she can't. Besides, messing around with dirty cows and mixing company with cowhands who don't have the morals of a coyote is not a fit life for a lady.”

“I'm sure she'll meet some nice man in Galveston and fall in love with him.”

“There's just as many skunks in Galveston as anywhere else,” Bertie said. “What she needs is somebody like you to take care of her.”

“You think Mr. Nolan ought to
marry
her?” Jinx asked, flabbergasted.

“Why not?” Bertie asked, being careful to look at Jinx rather than Bret. “He's not married, he's handsome enough for any woman, and he knows how to run a ranch.”

“If you marry her, can I stay here with you?” Jinx asked Bret.

“That would be for Miss Emily to say,” Bertie said.

“With Mr. Nolan teaching me, I'll soon be a real cowboy. Then I won't have to work in the kitchen no more,” he concluded triumphantly.

“Don't be counting your chickens before the eggs is laid,” Bertie cautioned.

Bret felt like he was being swept away by a flash flood. He and Emily didn't want the same things, didn't even want to live in the same place. The fact that Emily would run off without even speaking to him was proof they weren't in love. Besides, if two people wanted different things, not even love could keep them together.

“I'm happy to do what I can to help Emily and her father,” Bret said, “but we're not getting married.”

“Why not?” Jinx asked. “I could stay here then.”

“We're not in love with each other,” Bret said. “Giving you a home isn't sufficient reason for two people to get married.”

“You like her enough not to see her get hurt, don't you?” Bertie asked.

“Yes,” Bret said, “but liking isn't enough. I'll do what I can to make sure she's safe, but her life is here. Mine is in Boston.”

“Your life is where you decide you want it to be,” Bertie stated flatly. “Now you'd better go see Mr. Sam and get to the horses before Jinx worries himself into a fever.”

“I've never been sick,” Jinx declared proudly.

Bret had never been sick, either, but right now he felt terrible. Bertie had used almost the same words as Hawk. But they didn't understand. The Abbotts had rejected his parents and him as being inferior. It wasn't about being exiled to Texas. It wasn't even about being left an orphan. It was about rejection. He'd waited his whole life to prove to them they'd been wrong. He couldn't quit now. He had to go back.

He was too conflicted about too many things to know if he loved Emily. He was relatively certain she didn't love him. But that didn't really matter. He was in no position to marry her. He wasn't what she needed, but was she what
he
needed?

Was she what he wanted?

“If you're going to sit there staring off into space, maybe you ought to let one of the hands exercise the horses. From the looks of you, one could run off with you and you'd be none the wiser.”

Bertie's caustic tone jerked Bret out of his thoughts. “I was just thinking.”

“Now's time for doing,” Bertie said. “You can think when you've done your work.”

Bret laughed. That sounded so much like Jake, he could almost imagine he was back at the Broken Circle. “Remind me never to work for you, Bertie. I'd be whittled down to a nubbin in no time.”

“Is she going to whittle me down to a nubbin?” Jinx asked, not certain what a nubbin was.

“I might if you turn out to be less helpful than a broomstick leaning against the wall,” Bertie said, not totally successful in hiding her smile. “If you stop gabbing and get to work, you might be done by the time Mr. Nolan is through visiting with Mr. Sam.”

Bret left Jinx darting around the kitchen at Bertie's orders. He was strongly tempted to postpone his visit with Sam, but he knew he'd only spend the time thinking about Emily and how much more relaxed he'd been since he returned to Texas. He'd been over all of that before, so there was no reason to go over it again. The answers kept coming up the same.

When Bret rode in the next day, he knew immediately Emily was back. The sorrel hammerhead with black markings on its legs was in the corral. He was surprised that Jinx didn't come busting out of the house to pummel him with questions about what he'd done and seen. Sometimes he tired of answering the boy's questions, but he never tired of Jinx. It was impossible to get bored with a child who seemed to have boundless energy, inexhaustible enthusiasm, and perpetual optimism despite the vicissitudes of his life. He was hardly ever without a smile on his face.

Emily didn't come to meet him, either.

Bret unsaddled his horse and started to rub him down. Emily was usually too anxious to know what
he'd done and seen to wait for him to come up to the house. Just more proof she wasn't thinking about building her life around his. He finished rubbing down his horse and turned him into the corral. Less than a minute later, the horse was rolling in the dust. Turning, Bret started toward the house.

He climbed the steps and entered the great room. The silence was nearly complete. Not even the sunlight filtering through heavy curtains relieved the gloom, the sense that all life had been removed from the room. He walked through to the kitchen, certain he'd find Bertie and Jinx, but the kitchen was also silent and empty; no preparations were being made for supper. He returned to the great room and was about to call out when Jinx erupted from the direction of Sam's bedroom.

“Where is everybody?” Bret asked.

“Got to get some more cold water,” Jinx said without stopping. “Mr. Sam took a bad turn.”

Bret hurried down the short hall to Sam's bedroom. He opened the door to find Emily sitting next to her father and Bertie hovering over both of them. Sam was leaning back against a mound of pillows, his skin colorless, while Emily swabbed his sweating brow with water from a pan on the bed. Bertie turned. A tired smile relieved her deep frown.

“What happened?” Bret asked.

“It's his heart,” Bertie said. “He was in a lot of pain earlier, but it seems to be letting up now.”

“He called for both of us.” Emily didn't take her eyes off her father as she spoke. “Neither one of us was here.”

“You couldn't know he was going to take a bad turn,” Bertie said.

“I knew he was sick.” Emily looked pale and frightened. “I had no business leaving him.”

“He wouldn't want you to stop living just because he's sick.”

“I should have been here.”

“Do you want me to do that for a while?” Bret pointed to the damp cloths she was using to remove the perspiration from Sam's brow.

Emily shook her head. “I'd never forgive myself if I left him now.”

Jinx arrived with the fresh water, but from the little bit left in the basin, Bret guessed he'd left a trail of water all the way from the pump.

“Let me have that before you spill it all over Mr. Sam,” Bertie said. She took the basin and exchanged it for the one in Emily's lap. “Now that Mr. Nolan's here, we'd better set about getting supper ready,” she said to Jinx. “Sickness don't mean the cowhands won't be hungry. What do you want to eat?” she asked Emily.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You've got to eat to keep your strength up. It won't help your pa none to have you in bed, too.”

“Bring her supper in here,” Bret said. “I'll see if I can coax her into eating something.”

Bertie nodded and dragged Jinx away, her hand over his mouth to keep him from volunteering to stay as well.

“How is your father doing?” Bret asked.

For the first time since he'd arrived, Emily turned her tear-strained face toward him. “Better than when I got back.”

“You can stop talking about me like I'm not here,” Sam said, his voice a mere thread that was difficult to understand.

“Don't talk,” Emily said. “You've got to save your strength.”

“For what?” Sam asked. “So I can die feeling stronger?”

“So you can live longer,” Emily said, fresh tears streaming down her face. “You're all I've got.”

“Then you'd better start listening to that young man, because you won't have me for much longer.”

Bret wished Sam wouldn't talk about that, but it was time to make Emily aware she had to start thinking seriously about her future.

“And you can take that wet rag off my face,” Sam said. “I feel like I'm wringing wet.”

“You sweated through your clothes and bedsheets,” Emily said. “I'll have to change you.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Sam declared. “I'll lie in my sweat until it dries before I'll have my daughter see me naked. Bret can help me.”

Bret had expected Sam would want Lonnie or somebody he was more comfortable with to help him. “I'll be glad to help,” he said, hoping Emily didn't feel hurt that her father had pushed her aside.

Emily used the damp cloths to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Bret stopped his hand in time to keep from reaching out to do it for her. He hated to see Emily cry. He hated even more that there was nothing he could do to stop her tears.

“Mama said men always stick together.” Emily got to her feet. “Since Bret is here to help you, I'll go see about fixing something for you to eat.”

“Don't give me any more colored water,” Sam grumbled. “Even a sick man needs food in his stomach.”

“You'll get what I fix, and you'll eat it, too,” Emily announced, then left the room.

“That means colored water,” Sam moaned. “I might as well be dead already.”

He didn't look good, but he seemed to be recovering
from his attack. Emily had looked hurt that her father had wanted Bret to take care of him. He'd have to try to explain to her about a man's need for privacy. And his need not to feel completely helpless in front of the child he was supposed to protect and defend.

Looking at him now, Bret knew Sam wouldn't live until December. Who would take care of Emily then?

Bret didn't think he would ever get used to Hawk materializing out of nowhere.

“We found the rustlers,” Hawk said. “I left Zeke to watch them while I looked for you. Where have you been? I figured you'd want to be in on the capture.”