A Texan's Honor (3 page)

Still, Bret had never been able to forget that his
real
family in Boston had turned its back on his mother, then on him. For as long as he could remember, he'd been filled with an unrelenting need to prove they'd been wrong. At twenty-one, he'd finally packed his bags and left for Boston. Now, six years later, he was back in Texas and was beginning to wonder if he should ever have left. He'd never have guessed he'd feel like he was coming home after a long absence. He had convinced himself he was happy in Boston. Had he been a fool? He'd been shaken badly when his uncle had said not to come back if he couldn't bring Emily Abercrombie with him. Surely he didn't mean he'd turn his back on him, not after he had worked harder than anyone else in the firm. His uncle
had
to recognize his value to the company.

Frustrated, Bret turned his attention to his surroundings. The train was coming in to Fort Worth. Established as an army fort in 1849, it had turned into a thriving commercial town supplying cattlemen and buffalo hunters. He would be met by one of Sam Abercrombie's ranch hands. It was a two-day ride to the ranch. Though he'd rarely been on a horse since leaving Texas, he was looking forward to it.

There wasn't much of interest to look at in Fort Worth, so he tried to wrap his mind around the task ahead—convincing a woman to do something she didn't want to do. Isabelle would have told him it was easier to brand a steer by himself, but Uncle Silas didn't care what people wanted. If they didn't do what
he
wanted, they had to be convinced. Bret told himself he might be making too much of the situation. It was possible Emily Abercrombie
did
want to
go to Boston but was afraid. Maybe she thought she wasn't pretty enough, rich enough, smart enough, confident enough to be accepted there. It wouldn't be easy for someone reared in Texas to make the transition to Boston. He'd been trying for years. Without his grandmother's support, he probably wouldn't have made any progress. But he couldn't forget his uncle's parting words.

What if I can't bring her back?

Then don't come back yourself.

It was useless to plague himself with those words. He was relieved when the train came to a halt. A whole tribe of little boys suddenly materialized, competing with each other to carry luggage, to help ladies down from the coaches and across the street to the boardwalk, to recommend the best hotel and the best restaurants. Bret was startled when his suitcase landed at his feet, barely missing his toes.

“Sorry,” the porter said without pausing as he tossed one piece of luggage after another from the train. A grimy-faced urchin grabbed up Bret's suitcase.

“Where're you going, mister? I'll take you to the best hotel for two bits.”

“I'm being met,” Bret replied.

The boy looked Bret up and down. “Probably a good thing. You don't look like you'd last the night by yourself.”

Bret had a very good idea of what he looked like to that urchin—just like city slickers had looked to him when he was a kid.

“I'll manage,” he told the urchin. “Have you seen any cowhands you didn't know hanging around like they were waiting for someone?”

“Half the people in this town are waiting for someone. Can't you tell me any more about the fellow?”

Kids. Isabelle would have tanned his backside if
he'd talked to her like that. “I'm looking for someone from Sam Abercrombie's ranch. The brand is an interlocking S and A.”

“I ain't seen no cowhand with that brand, but I seen a lady ride into town yesterday on a horse wearing that brand.”

“Do you have any idea where she went?”

“No, but I know where she is right now. Give me two bits and I'll tell you.”

Bret knew he was being hustled, but he just wanted to find the
lady
. He fished a quarter out of his pocket. “Here. If you don't know where she is, I'm taking it back.”

“I ain't no cheat,” the kid said, backing out of reach as he put the quarter safely in his pocket. “She's standing right over there in front of that dress shop. Where else would you expect a pretty lady to be?”

“You can bring my suitcase,” Bret said. “If you're right, I'll give you another quarter.”

“Gee, you're some big spender.” But the kid grabbed the suitcase and followed Bret. Two other kids rushed up to carry his trunk.

Bret wondered why a woman should be meeting him and what connection she could have to the cowhand who was supposed to be there. Women had a lot of freedom in Texas, but expensively dressed women seldom went out alone, certainly not to meet strange men.

“Excuse me,” he said when he reached her. When she turned, he was almost too stunned to speak. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. “I'm Bret Nolan,” he managed to say. “A cowhand from the Sam Abercrombie ranch was supposed to meet me. This kid said he saw you riding a horse wearing the Abercrombie brand. Can you tell me where to find the man?”

The woman appeared to be nearly as surprised as he was. “No, I can't.”

“I'm sorry to have bothered you.”

“I didn't say I couldn't help you. I'm Emily Abercrombie. I'm not a man, but I've come to meet you.”

Emily hoped she didn't look as shocked as she felt. It wasn't his citified clothing that surprised her, she had expected to see a man dressed liked a tenderfoot. She wasn't even surprised he was tall and good-looking. What she
didn't
expect, and what stunned her, was that she felt an immediate attraction to this man. A tenderfoot. A dude. A man who probably didn't know one end of a horse from another. What could possibly possess her to be attracted to him? Okay, so he was better looking than anybody she knew, but he was still just a man.

“I expected one of your hands,” Bret said. “I never thought your father would let you travel this far unescorted.”

He dropped a notch in her estimation. “I don't need an escort, but I came with two—our foreman and one of the hands.”

“I wouldn't have let you come at all.”

His stock was plummeting so rapidly she'd be immune
to him in less than thirty minutes. She raised her chin. “It's a good thing you aren't my father.”

“Or your husband.”

If he was trying to make her angry at him, he was succeeding. “I came because I wanted to tell you I have no intention of going to Boston.”

“And I've been told I won't have a job if I return without you.”

“Then it looks like you have a problem.”

“I certainly do. And her name is Emily Abercrombie.”

It would be foolish to hate somebody she knew so little about, but she didn't like what she knew about Bret Nolan.

“Hey, mister,” said one of the dirty urchins who'd followed him, “you gotta pick a hotel. We can't hold this trunk forever.”

“If you'll take my advice, you'll get back on the train,” Emily said to Bret.

“As much as I'd like to do just that, I can't,” Bret said. “Have you picked out a hotel for me, or am I on my own?”

“Follow me.” Emily turned and started down Commerce Street. She was tempted to look over her shoulder to see if Mr. Nolan was following, but when she heard the three boys carrying his luggage grumbling that they hoped the hotel wasn't in the next county, she figured he was. She couldn't decide if she was disappointed that he hadn't taken her advice to get back on the train. In general, she'd scorn any man who was spineless, but she didn't know this man and didn't care if he had a spine or not. She only wanted to be left alone.

On the other hand, she hated to see anybody so gutless they wouldn't struggle at least a little bit for
what they wanted. Texas wasn't an easy place to live in, and defending cows from disease, wolves, and rustlers just made it harder. If people weren't ready to fight for what they wanted, they didn't survive.

Then there was the puzzling conundrum of her attraction to him. She laid that entirely to the fact that he was tall, handsome, and looked strong enough to handle a longhorn steer by himself. Of course, his looks had to be deceiving. How could any man living in a place like Boston be anything but soft? Still, she hoped he wasn't as bad as she feared. She didn't want to be attracted to a weakling.

“Do we have far to walk?” Mr. Nolan asked.

“Are your shoes pinching already?” It was worse than she thought.

“My shoes are fine, but the boys are going to need help with the trunk if it's much farther.”

She turned to see the boys making a great show of struggling with the trunk. All three had assumed the heavy duty, while Bret had taken the suitcase. The boys' expressions of agony made Emily smile. “I believe their groans are intended to arouse your sympathy and cause you to reward them with a larger payment.”

“Lady, that's not fair,” one urchin exclaimed.

“I already guessed that,” Bret said, favoring the boys and Emily with a frown. “I probably know more tricks than they do.”

“You ain't planning on cheating us, are you?” the urchin asked.

“I asked how far it was so I'd know if I had enough money to give you a bigger tip.”

The change in the boys' demeanor was almost comical. They hoisted the trunk as if it weighed only ounces, their faces transformed by smiles.

“I never thought you'd stiff us, mister,” the urchin said. “I can tell a man of character when I see one.”

“Stow it,” Bret barked. “I know all the lines to use on dudes, tenderfoots, or any other name orphans use to refer to people like me, because I used them myself.”

“We ain't orphans,” one of the other boys protested. “We got parents,” he stated proudly.

“Then don't embarrass them by behaving like street rats.”

“Just because I ain't got no parents don't mean I'm a street rat,” the first urchin exclaimed.

“I didn't think you were, but a gentleman watches his behavior around a lady. Most importantly, he doesn't tell lies, not even little ones. And that playacting about the heavy trunk was a lie.”

“But I wasn't lying to
her
.”

“You lied in her presence. That's what counts.”

Emily knew she was staring, but she didn't know what to make of this man. He appeared to be scolding the boys, but she was certain there was a glint of humor in his eyes, even slight admiration for their gumption.

The urchin turned to Emily, raised his head, his face grimy as he looked at her with big brown eyes. “Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to tell no fibs. I just thought he was a soft touch. I couldn't help myself.”

It was all Emily could do to keep from laughing. His shamefaced expression was masterful.

“I accept your apology,” she said with as much gravity as she could muster. “I'm sure you're a very nice young man.”

“My pa says he's a young hellion who'll be lucky if someone don't shoot him dead before he's twenty,” one of his friends said.

“Shut your trap, you whey-faced brat,” the urchin
said. “You've no call to find fault with my character in front of a lady.”

“Well, it's what Pa said.”

“A fella can change, can't he? I'm going to be a gentleman like this tender—um, I mean fancy dude.”

“We're going to the Grand Union Hotel,” Emily said. “Why don't you boys go on ahead?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the urchin said. “We'll wait outside. They won't let the likes of them two”—he pointed at his two companions—“inside.”

“They won't let you in, neither,” his friend said.

“They would if I wanted in, but I don't.”

And with that he marched off, proud as a peacock, ignoring the slanderous remarks of his friends.

Emily turned to Bret. “Do you always set the cat amongst the pigeons wherever you go?”

“I see no point in not dealing in plain truths.”

“Then why did Mr. Abbott choose to send you to Texas?”

“Because he knows I always get the job done.”

“Then I'm sorry to be the one to interrupt your string of successes. You could always go back and tell him you couldn't find me. Texas is a big state. It would be easy to lose a female or two.”

His answering smile was forced. “But I'm a very determined man. I'd have found you.”

Emily turned and headed toward the hotel. “Then you should be grateful I've saved you a lot of time. That'll give me plenty of opportunity to refute all your reasons why I should go to Boston.”

He caught up with her. “You haven't heard my reasons yet. You might find them irrefutable.”

“And
you
haven't heard my reasons for refuting them. You might find
them
irrefutable.”

“Then I expect we're in for a very interesting month.”

“A month!” Emily exclaimed as she stopped dead and turned to face him.

“Or year. Whatever it takes.”

Even if Mr. Nolan had been as charming as he was attractive, she wouldn't have wanted him around more than a few days. She didn't have time to entertain a man who knew nothing about the West or ranching. He probably thought cows were kept in barns and were tame enough for milking.

“It's my father's house, and he'll determine how long you stay, but I can promise you it won't be as much as a year. I'd say two weeks at most.”

“Then I'll have to make sure I've convinced you by then.”

“I told you, I'm not going to Boston.”

“We'll see.”

His unshakable calm infuriated her. He acted as though she didn't have enough intelligence to know her own mind. As though after a few well-chosen words from him, she'd be so overwhelmed by his brilliant arguments, she'd be in a frenzy to pack and leave. Maybe women in Boston kowtowed to their men, but she was a Texan. She didn't jump to obey anybody's orders.