Heart Of Texas (Historical Romance) (7 page)

Gabe shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I need
to know about the people who claim to own the
Spanish Spur. What happened to Bob?"

"He up and died of the lung sickness-he went
fast, and I wasn't expecting it. The people you're
asking 'bout are the Hamiltons."

"Are they related to Bob Reynolds?"

"Yeah, they are. None of them are much
more'n young'uns. They can't make it out here
with Cyrus wanting to get his hands on the
place-you know it, and I know it-but there
ain't nobody gonna make that pretty little gal believe it."

She watched his silver eyes flash in the flickering lamplight. If anyone wanted to get Gabe riled,
all that was necessary was to mention Cyrus.

"They can't go up against him and live to tell
about it, Kate. And no one from around here is
going to help them. Everyone's too afraid of Cyrus.

"He ain't gonna be happy 'bout them being
here-and when he ain't happy, people die."

"I know."

Gabe stood up slowly and stretched his tall
frame. Kate was nearing her sixtieth birthday, but
the sight of that gorgeous man made her eyes
widen.

"It's none of my affair. The woman's husband
should take them back where they came from."

"Husband? There ain't no husband. There's
just Casey and her brother, Sam, and the little
one, jenny."

"Then what in the hell are they doing here?"
He started pacing. "Cyrus won't care that they're young, or even that two of them are female; he'll
only care that they are standing in the way of
something he wants."

Kate shook her head. "I wouldn't want to see
anything happen to them. Hell, if Cyrus could just
wait a month or so, they'd probably be happy to
sell the Spanish Spur to him. They came here all
the way from Virginia, burying their pa along the
way. Now, you know and I know"-she glanced
up at him expectantly-"they can't last out here
without help."

"Then the woman is a widow?"

"She never had no husband. What makes you
think such a thing?"

He had assumed the little girl was her daughter.
"Then the child-"

"Is her sister."

Gabe settled into a cane-bottom chair and
stared at the lamp, which was running out of oil
and needed the wick trimmed.

"You've been away since the war; I didn't even
know you were back till now."

"I had planned to leave for El Paso tomorrow,
and I didn't expect to see anyone I knew. I left
Texas in 'sixty-three, swearing I would never come
back. After the war I bummed around, and I don't
know why I ended up back here. I certainly didn't
intend to."

"Have you seen Cyrus?"

"No. Why should I? We have nothing to say to
each other. We never have."

He leaned his head back and took in a deep
breath before looking at Kate. "I thought I could
ride through and no one would be the wiser. Now
I've become embroiled in the Hamiltons' troubles. It kind of muddies the water, so to speak."

Kate's laughter cackled out. "You're going to
stay and help 'em, ain't you?"

"I don't have any choice. Cyrus already has the
blood of too many innocents on his hands. I can't
let him have these three to add to his tally."

"I didn't think you could."

He was quiet for a moment. "Kate, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my last name to the
Hamiltons."

"I can see how you'd feel that way. Things
should start getting interesting 'round here in a
few days. You and Cyrus was bound to butt heads
sooner or later. I knew the day would come when
you'd return and fight him. I guess you chose the
Spanish Spur as your battleground."

He made no reply, but she saw a muscle clench
in his jaw, and his hands slid into fists.

"Yeah, it's definitely going to get mighty interesting 'round here, Gabriel."

At the moment, all Gabe could think about was
the beautiful young woman, so courageous and
strong, thinking she didn't have a friend in the
world. He couldn't just ride away and leave her at
Cyrus's mercy.

Casey still could not sleep. She sighed, remembering that her father had once told her that
troubles always seemed darker at night, but
brightened in the light of day. She doubted that
the problems that faced her family would look any
better at sunrise.

It was still dark when she dressed and climbed
out of the wagon, taking care not to disturb Sam
and Jenny. She reasoned that if she couldn't
sleep, she might as well get busy cleaning the
house. She lit a lantern and made her way to the
well; tossing the wooden bucket over the side, she
heard it splash below. Hand over hand, she
tugged the rope upward, then cupped her hands
and drew water up to her mouth.

Cautiously, she took a sip, then smiled. There
was nothing to worry about; it tasted as sweet as
springwater.

Half an hour later Casey had gathered a cleaning bucket, lye soap, and a brush, and went down
on her knees to clean the kitchen floor. Soap suds
swirled out about her as her scrub brush dug into
the wooden floor, washing away two years of neglect. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her shoulder,
she dipped her scrub brush back into the water
and sloshed it across the floor. Her heart stopped
when she watched water splash across the toe of
a black boot. Her gaze followed the line up the
long leg to the face of the man she had expected
never to see again.

"Didn't you see that the floor is wet?" she asked, blowing a tangled red-gold curl out of her face.
She dabbed at the toe of his boot with a wet cloth,
but her action only made the suds worse.

He took a step away from her. "Is it your habit
to scrub floors before the sun comes up?"

She bristled. "Is it your habit to go skulking
about whenever and wherever it pleases you?"

She watched his mouth turn up into a grin.
"Skulking about-is that what I'm doing?"

"That is what it seems like to me. You were here
last night and now first thing this morning." She
glared at him and asked suspiciously, "Just why are
you here again?"

Ignoring her question, he knelt down and
stared at her for a moment. "I might have known
you would be a redhead," he remarked, and for
some reason he did not understand, he wanted
to brush the unruly red-gold curls off her cheek.
"You certainly have a temper to match the color.
And," he said with irony in his tone, "for some
reason, you always seem to be having some kind
of mishap with water."

He was too close to her, and she couldn't
breathe as she looked into those silver eyes. She
had intended to get to her feet so she could put
some distance between them, but her hand
slipped on the wet floor and, to her horror and
dismay, her face landed in the bucket of water.
She sputtered and tried to wipe the soap out of
her stinging eyes.

Casey felt strong hands grip hers, and the man lifted her to her feet. She grabbed his arm in an
attempt to steady herself, trying to hang on to as
much dignity as she could with water - streaming
down her face.

She felt his muscles flex beneath her fingers.
This was not a man to be trifled with, and she
feared the way he looked at her. What was the
look; what did it mean?

She managed to move away from him so she
could dab at her eyes with her apron. It didn't
help much, though; her eyes still stung. "You
never did answer me-why did you return?"

"I took the liberty of sleeping in your barn last
night, so I never actually left."

Casey stopped dabbing at her eyes and stared
at him. "You stayed here last night?"

"I hope you don't mind."

She was struck by his audacity. Why would he
have done such a thing? She certainly would not
have slept at all if she had known he was so
nearby.

"You should have asked me if I minded before
you did it."

He leaned against the door frame and watched
her just as the rooster crowed, announcing sunup.
"Do you mind?"

"I... do not feel comfortable with strangers."

He held up his hand and laughed. "I know. You
don't like strangers skulking about. And you're
right-I should have asked you." He watched her face carefully. "I'm sorry. You see, I had nowhere
else to sleep."

She dabbed at her hair with her apron. "Look,
whoever you are, I have troubles of my own, and
I don't need to take on any more."

"I was wondering if you had any work for me."
He gestured outside and shrugged his broad
shoulders. "It looks to me like you could use some
help."

By now her eyes had stopped burning a bit, and
it was light enough for her to get a good look at
him. He wasn't wearing his gun this morning, but
he still looked dangerous to her. His eyes, which
had appeared to be a flat slate color a moment
ago, seemed now to swirl with silver light. He
filled the doorway with his size, and she assessed
his features. He had the kind of handsomeness
that would draw her attention even if he were in
a room with other men. His dark brows arched
above those glorious eyes; his nose was in harmony with his other features. His mouth was what
drew and held her attention. What would it feel
like to have it pressed against hers? She went weak
all over at that thought, and scolded herself for
even entertaining such fantasies.

"I doubt that you know anything about ranching," he said, breaking into her thoughts. "I could
teach your brother some things he needs to know,
and I do need the work."

He needed a shave, and his hair was too long,
but judging by the rich material of his trousers and the fine blue shirt he wore, he didn't look
like he needed money.

"You don't seem to be down on your luck to
me," she quickly pointed out.

He gave her that devastatingly masculine smile
that tightened her insides. "You never can tell;
maybe I'm just a supporter of lost causes."

"We aren't lost, mister. You are the one who
seems to be wandering around aimlessly."

"I would make you a good hand," he said, as if
she had not spoken. "I work hard and don't eat
much."

She didn't want him around, and yet she could
not stand the thought of never seeing him again.

Where had that thought come from? "I don't
know anything about you," she stated firmly.

"Kate knows me. She'll vouch for my honesty."

Casey was torn. She didn't want to admit to him
that she didn't have the money to pay him; it
would be too humiliating. So she chose another
method to turn him away. "I have been warned
that there is a powerful neighbor to the south of
us who is likely to cause trouble. I'm afraid that
anyone I hire would be considered his enemy. I
can't do that to you."

His eyes turned glacier cold, and he stared at
her so hard, she took a step back. She managed
to say without hesitation, "I don't want to be responsible for you if trouble comes."

"I know who you are talking about." There was
a sharp edge to his voice, a coldness, and she imagined it was the tone he might use before he
drew his gun on someone. "I'm not afraid of.Cyrus Slaughter."

"From what Kate tells me, you should be." She
stared down at the hem of her soaked gown, unable to look at him any longer. "I think it would
be better if you rode on."

When she glanced back up, he was watching
her. "I really do need the work."

She took a steadying breath and dived in. "The
truth is, I can't pay you wages. We don't have
much money and-"

"I'll work for a bed and grub. Later we can talk
about wages."

"I don't know. It doesn't seem-"

"I'd like a place to settle for a while. You'd be
doing me a favor."

She didn't believe him. He had a motive for
wanting to work for her, but she didn't know what
it could be. "I don't even know your name."

"I am called Gabe, Miss Hamilton."

She wiped her wet hands on her apron. "I suppose you have a last name."

"Just Gabe."

Casey didn't completely trust him. But it was
true that she and Sam just didn't know how to
run a ranch the size of this one.

"We could use the help," she admitted. "As you
said, you could show Sam a few things, since the
ranch will one day belong to him."

Gabe digested that bit of information and nod ded. "It's settled then. If it's all right with you, I'll
start rounding up what cattle you still have."

"I will want my brother to learn how to work
on this ranch. Do you want Sam to go with you?"

"Not today. It looks to me like you need him to
help around here."

Without another word, he turned and walked
away, leaving Casey wondering how he had gotten
her to agree to hire him-she hadn't meant to.
He had a persuasive way about him, and a gift for
turning a situation to his advantage. He was the
last person she had wanted on the Spanish Spur,
and yet she had just agreed to let him stay.

Suddenly a calmness settled over her, something she had not felt since her father's death.
She was living in the midst of a swirling storm,
and the man called Gabe had just become her
anchor. Where had that feeling come from? She
hardly knew him, and there was certainly no reason to trust him. She wanted to ask Kate if she
had done the right thing in hiring him.