Heart Of Texas (Historical Romance) (17 page)

"I don't want to need anyone, Casey. Don't look
for feelings in me that I don't have." He stepped
away from her. "I need to leave you now."

She looked at him solemnly, feeling heavyhearted. He was so alone, and he didn't even
know how to accept love or to give it. "I must go
in myself. I wouldn't want Jenny to wake up and
find me gone."

He watched her leave, knowing he could never
have her. He was Cyrus's son, and she would
never understand why he hadn't told her the
truth from the beginning. Now things had gone
too far for him to admit he had tainted blood in
his veins.

With a last glance toward the house, he headed
for the bunkhouse. He had to let Casey go. He
had to concentrate on what his father's next move
would be, and he had to be ready for it when it
came.

Jenny was taking a nap, and the house was quiet,
so Casey stepped outside to sweep the front
porch. It must have been windy during the night,
because autumn-colored elm leaves were scattered across the porch.

She had been restless all day. Gabe had been
avoiding her for the last week, and she certainly
wouldn't seek him out. She waited for him to
come to her and explain some of the things he
had said that night in the barn.

She heard the rider before she saw him. He
didn't come by way of the main road to the house
but from the little-used river road.

She gripped the broom as a stranger rode into
view. He dismounted and approached with a rolling gait. His skin was dark and swarthy, his hair
so blond it was almost white.

Silently she watched him climb the steps. He
paused at the railing and looked at her for a mo ment. His eyes were so pale it was almost impossible to tell the whites from the irises. He was tall
and beefy, and he was staring at her as if he knew
what she was wearing beneath her gown.

She started to lean the broom against the porch
railing but reconsidered-it wasn't much of a
weapon, but it was better than nothing. Gabe had
warned her not to be alone with strangers, but
there was nothing she could do to avoid this man.

He shoved his hat farther back on his head and
smiled, making his thin lips appear even thinner.
He had managed to make his smile look like a
threat.

"I suppose you're Miss Hamilton?"

Casey bristled. "In my family, a man introduces
himself to a lady before she gives him her nameif she chooses to give him her name at all."

His jaw hardened, and although his voice was
soft, it was no less menacing. "Name's Ira Teague,
and I'm foreman over to the Casa Mesa ranch. I
waited until everyone rode away so I could have
a little talk with you, alone. Sort of a private talk
to clear up some things for my boss." He ran his
large hand across his chin. "I kinda like the
thought of being alone with you."

Fear twisted inside her, and she had the strongest urge to dash into the house and bolt the door.
But she had a feeling a locked door would not
keep this man out of the house. At last she found
her voice, and she hoped it didn't show how
frightened she really was. "If you have business with this ranch, you can wait at the bunkhouse
until the foreman gets back."

"I didn't come to talk to Gabe. The boss said I
was to talk to you, and no one else."

"Your boss already had a talk with me, and I
didn't much care for his topic of conversation."

"We don't have to talk. You're a pretty little
gal-we could do other things. I could think of a
few I'd like."

She almost stumbled over the broom in her
haste to get farther away from him. There was a
cruel twist to his mouth when he smiled at her.
"Now you don't want to run from me, do you? I
won't hurt you much."

She was never so brave as when her back was
to the wall. "You can just leave now."

"Not yet," he said, taking a step toward her.
"I'm not ready to go." He stopped right in front
of her, his hand touching her sleeve and rubbing
the material between his fingers.

She quickly jumped back and swatted his hand
away. "Don't you dare touch me!"

His gaze swept her body. "I'll do more'n that.
I ain't never had me a woman as pretty as you."

Casey knew she should run, but she didn't want
to draw him into the house where jenny was, and
she knew that if she tried to dart around him, he
would only catch her.

"Get off my land," she said in a voice that shook
with emotion.

He took another step toward her, and she was about to cry out when they heard the sound of
riders. Casey feared it would be more of Mr.
Slaughter's men arriving. She hoped it would be
Sam and Kate returning.

Teague swung around to stare at the two riders,
and so did Casey. Even though they wore white
man's clothing, it was evident that they were Indians. As both of them scrutinized the situation,
hope bloomed inside her. Were they the two Comanches Gabe had sent for?

"Flint, Omous," Teague said with contempt,
"what're the two of you doing here?" His colorless
eyes seemed to darken, and his fists tightened at
his sides. "I guess wherever Gabe is, I'll always find
the two of you somewhere near."

"It's good if you remember this, Teague," the
older Indian remarked. "Our path is not for you
to know. I do not answer to you."

He spoke English with an accent Casey had
never heard before.

"Are you unharmed, miss?" There was concern
in the Indian's dark eyes, as if he knew she had
been threatened in some way.

She nodded her head, relieved that they were
not with Teague. She was trembling so badly she
hid her hands behind her back so no one could
see them.

The younger Indian moved in her direction
and stationed himself between her and Teague in
a protective manner.

"Gabe would not want you to be near this woman. If you are wise, you will leave now," the
older Indian stated.

"It's always been the same, Omous. Whenever
I see the two of you, I know Gabe isn't far behind.
I'm sure the boss'll be mighty pleased to hear
you've joined up with him."

"Your words have no meaning to me. I do not
listen to the skunk that moves in the night."

Teague merely grinned. "I'll be leaving now,
but I'll be back." He looked pointedly at Casey
and winked. "You and I have unfinished business
together, pretty gal."

Casey's legs went so weak, she leaned against
the porch railing for support. "I am so glad you
came when you did," she said to the young Indian. She watched Teague ride away, even now
fearing he might come back. "I was afraid."

"I am Flint," the younger Indian said, then
glanced at her. "If you are Gabriel's woman, you
have nothing to fear from that man. He will not
let anyone harm you, and neither will my father
or me."

She shook her head. "I am not Gabriel's
woman. I am no one's woman."

He looked puzzled. Why would Gabe go to so
much trouble to keep this woman safe if she was
not his? "I am sorry if I mistakenly spoke of something I know nothing about," he said apologetically.

He had a better command of the English language than the older man did, and she thought he might have been educated in school. She was
surprised that she felt no fear of them; in fact, she
sensed only concern for her safety. It was fortunate for her that they had come along when they
had. They were of the same height, each tall, each
with a leather band around his forehead and long
hair that came past his shoulders.

Omous must have been somewhere in his forties, or maybe even fifty; it was difficult to tell. His
features were sharp, his nose was prominent, and
his dark eyes were alert as he stared after Teague,
making sure he didn't double back.

Flint was younger, perhaps in his late twenties
or early thirties. She could see his resemblance to
his father.

"Gabriel is not here?" Omous asked.

"He rode out early this morning, and I don't
know when he'll be home." She pointed to the
bunkhouse. "You can stow your belongings there,
and if you are hungry, I have stew on the stove."

"We will just wait for Gabriel," Omous told her.

Flint's smile was gentle. "You have nothing to
fear from that man. We will be watching over you
until Gabriel returns."

Casey had always imagined that all Indians were
fierce, people to be feared. She now realized that
bringing the Comanches to the Spanish Spur was
Gabe's way of protecting her family when he
wasn't there.

Gabe walked the length of the bunkhouse and
back again. "You are saying Teague threatened
her?"

Omous nodded. "Yes. And she was frightened.
I believe it is good that we came along when we
did. Why did you leave your woman unprotected?"

Gabe frowned. "Miss Hamilton is not my
woman."

Omous smiled. "She said that also. But you
must say this to someone who has not held you
when you took your first breath. My son and I
thought because of the urgent message you sent
to us that this woman is important to you."

"You see things that are not there."

Flint chuckled. "She is unusually fair. If she
smiled at me, I know I could not resist her."

Gabriel swung around to face Flint, whom he
had played with as a boy and who had always been
his best friend. "You will not go near enough to
her to see her smile."

Omous shook his head and smiled at his son.
"It is much worse than I thought. If he is jealous
of you, he is in a bad way."

Gabe waved Omous aside, unwilling to speak of
his feelings for Casey. "I can't let Teague get away
with threatening her. This insult must not go unanswered."

"You know they will be expecting you," the Comanche warned him.

Gabe looked at the two men he trusted above all others. Whenever he had been in trouble, they
had always come to him. Flint was a year older
than Gabe, but they had been like brothers.

"You taught me to move silently, Omous. I will
be in Teague's face before he sees me coming."

"Then we must go tonight."

Gabe nodded. "My father will stop at nothing
to get his hands on this ranch. But at the moment
he's more interested in catching me in a trap than
obtaining the Spanish Spur."

Flint grinned. "Then we must not disappoint
him."

Dark clouds covered the moon, casting the night
in darkness, and Gabe knew that was to his advantage. He had left Omous with the horses some
distance from the ranch house, while he and Flint
cautiously approached the bunkhouse.

There were no lamps burning, but they both
knew they were expected. Silently they crept in
the shadows to an open window.

"They will expect us to go in through here,"
Flint whispered.

"Then we go in by the door, which they won't
be expecting."

"That would be wise."

"You stay low and go to your left, and I will go
to the right," Gabe instructed him.

"I understand."

The door opened easily, too easily. Still, Gabe
stepped inside and flattened his back against the wall, knowing Flint, crouched down behind him,
was sliding in the opposite direction.

It was suspiciously quiet. At this time of night
everyone should be sleeping, and someone would
be snoring. Gabe knew only too well how the
room was arranged, since he had once lived on
the ranch. He also knew the black heart of the
man who waited inside that room to spring a trap.

Someone struck a match, and someone else lit
a lamp. There were only three men present, and
Gabe knew them all. Richard Bates was always
ready to do whatever Teague wanted him to do.
Charley Latter was nearly as mean as Teague, but
not quite.

Apparently none of them had seen Flint, who
had hunkered down behind a cot.

"We've been waiting for you," Teague said with
a sly smile. "You might like to know you've got
friends here, 'cause none of the others had the
stomach for what I'm going to do to you." The
lines around his mouth deepened. "You have
been stuck in my craw for years, and I'm about to
spit you out."