Heart of Texas Volume One (5 page)

Then Laredo Smith arrived, and suddenly his sister's behavior had undergone a drastic change. She'd actually raised her voice to him, and all because of this worthless drifter. Well, she was welcome to Laredo Smith. If she wanted to walk around with her heart dangling from her sleeve, acting like a lovelorn fifteen-year-old, he wasn't going to stop her. By the same token, he wouldn't offer sympathy when a month or two down the road Laredo left her high and dry.

“How old is Savannah now?” Wiley asked. “She's over twenty-one, right?”

“You know damn well how old she is.”

Wiley set his Stetson farther back on his head and grinned. “You're right, I do. I was just wondering if
you
did.”

Grady frowned. “She's old enough to know better.”

“Old enough to know her own heart, too, I'd say.”

Grady nudged his gelding, Starlight, into a trot and turned toward the house, following the fence line. He wanted to check that it was secure and ascertain the condition of the windmill and water tank before he headed in for the night.

“Like I said earlier,” he announced stiffly, “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Then you aren't interested in hearin' what else Smith said.”

What Grady wasn't interested in was playing games. He reined in Starlight and turned to look back at the foreman. “You got something to say, then I suggest you say it.”

“He's a wrangler.”

Grady wasn't impressed. Wranglers are a dime a dozen in Texas.

“We could use a good wrangler. Payin' someone to come in and care for the horses can get downright costly.”

“I can take care of them myself.”

“Sure, the same way you can deliver calves, plant alfalfa, move herds and everything else all by your lonesome. Hey,” he said with a shrug, “it was just a suggestion.”

Despite his dour mood, Grady threw back his head and laughed. “Wiley, why do you think I'm paying you the big bucks? Since you're so concerned about my welfare,
you
can be my wrangler from now on. You think we need to take one on full-time? Then I'm naming you the Yellow Rose's official wrangler. You can feed, water, groom and worm the horses from this day forward. Don't forget to take care of the tack, too, while you're at it.”

“Quit foolin' around.”

“Do I look like I'm fooling?” Grady asked with a broad grin. The expression on Wiley's face was worth a thousand bucks. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Grady threw back his head and laughed until his throat felt raw.

 

S
AVANNAH SET THE PLATTER OF
chicken-fried steak on the oven rack and turned the saucepan of thick cream gravy to simmer. The green beans were tender, and she'd sliced fresh tomatoes from her kitchen garden. An apple pie cooled on the counter. All she needed to do now was stir up a pitcher of lemonade, and dinner would be ready when Grady and Wiley returned.

With a few extra moments on her hands, she decided to step outside. Laredo had been working all afternoon in the hot sun, and knowing he was probably thirsty, she poured him a glass of iced tea. As she walked into the sunshine, she was honest enough to admit that the tea was only an excuse to be with him.

Her gardens had never looked better, but she couldn't find Laredo. He'd been there no more than five minutes ago. Disappointed, she was about to return to the house when she spotted him in the goat pen with Samson and Delilah, her two kids. They were a thank-you gift for the roses she'd given a friend for an anniversary party. Seeing Laredo, she felt her heart go still, and she smiled with pleasure.

Grady had delighted in teasing her about her pets. He called it a silly woman thing, viewing her goats the same way he did her roses. He didn't care one whit about something she dearly loved. Roses were her heart, her joy, her passion. Sometimes Savannah wondered if they could truly be brother and sister, their differences seemed so profound.

Laredo knelt in the grass with the two young goats, petting them, talking to them. Samson, in particular, didn't normally take to strangers, but apparently Laredo was a special case.

Savannah wasn't sure how long she stood there watching. Several minutes, anyway, because the cold glass in her hand had numbed her fingers. Not wanting Laredo to know she'd been spying on him, she returned to the house. She set the glass aside and raised her cold hands to her face, to cool her flushed cheeks.

Incredibly the urge to cry came over her, and she didn't know why. She'd barely exchanged a word with Laredo all day; they'd both been busy with their own chores. And yet Savannah had never felt closer to anyone than she did to him for those few moments, watching him with her goats.

This stranger, this man she barely knew, possessed the ability to touch her soul. Savannah wondered if she'd ever be the same.

S
AVANNAH ENJOYED LISTENING
to Wade McMillen preach. His messages, simple and direct, cut straight to the heart. He was the most unlikely preacher she'd ever seen. A large man, tall and muscular, he looked as though he'd be more comfortable at home herding cattle than delivering sermons. Perhaps that was what made him so popular.

It might have been her imagination, but Savannah felt the curious stares of those around her. The word about her and Laredo was out, she was sure of it. Now everyone in the town knew she—and not Grady—had hired him.

Soon she'd be the subject of speculative comments and whispered questions—if she wasn't already. She felt mortified, but pride helped her hold her head high and look straight ahead. Her mind wandered throughout Wade's sermon, though, something that didn't usually happen. When her thoughts weren't focused on the consequences of her actions, they zoomed with startling ease to Laredo.

She'd wanted to invite him to church and had tried to broach the subject a number of times, but had lost her nerve. Even an invitation to Sunday-morning worship had seemed rather brash. In light of the interest she'd generated, Savannah would be forever grateful that Laredo
wasn't
with her. His presence would've set tongue wagging for sure.

Laredo had worked all day Saturday building trellises, even though she'd insisted she didn't require him to work weekends. He'd brushed aside her protests and pounded and sawed from dawn to dusk. By the end of the day, a long row of freshly painted trellises stood drying in the late March sun.

After dinner he sat on the porch with her until Grady arrived. Her brother's disapproval was evident in everything he said and did. She wanted to plead with Laredo to ignore him, wanted to insist she was her own woman, but again she remained silent.

A coward, that was what she was. Savannah would've given just about anything to find the courage to tell him what was on her mind and in her heart.

Actually, as Caroline had said, she'd done one thing that made her proud. She'd stood up to Grady, and because she had, Laredo was still at the ranch. Challenging Grady was no easy task. His strong personality had quelled braver souls than hers.

The congregation stood, and Savannah reached for the hymnal and opened it to the appropriate page. Her soft voice lifted with those in the choir. She glanced over at Caroline, standing in the front row of the choir in her long white robe. Her friend must have noticed because she acknowledged Savannah with an almost imperceptible wink. Savannah relaxed for the first time since she'd entered the church that morning.

After a closing prayer organ music once again filled the church and the service ended.

Savannah followed Nell Bishop and her two children out of the pew. Jake Bishop had been killed in a freak tractor accident three and a half years ago. They'd always seemed the perfect couple, so deeply in love—a great team, everyone said. Savannah knew life had been difficult for Nell without Jake and she admired the other woman's strength. Nell had refused to leave the ranch, working it herself. When asked why she hadn't sold off the spread and moved into town, Nell had simply explained that keeping the ranch was what Jake would have wanted. Walking with Nell, Savannah felt safe from gossip. The widow was a private person, as she was herself, and would never pry into her affairs.

Louise Powell stood in the vestibule, craning her neck. Savannah strongly suspected the woman wanted to grill her about Laredo.

Savannah wished there was some way she could just vanish.

“Savannah! Savannah, over here!” Louise raised one gloved hand and waved frantically.

It would do no good to avoid her, Savannah decided miserably. If there was one thing she hated more than gossip, it was being the center of attention.

As soon as she reached the vestibule, Louise was at her side. Louise had celebrated her fiftieth birthday in January and hated the thought of being a half a century old. In the weeks since, she'd changed her hairstyle and purchased a new wardrobe, trying for a younger look. Unfortunately she came across as a woman who was obviously fifty and dressed like twenty-five.

“I met your new friend!” Louise exclaimed. Savannah suspected this was Tammy Lee's influence on her. Tammy Lee— Louise's new friend—was a middle-aged divorcée whose reputation could charitably be described as colorful. “What a nice young man.” She paused, waiting for Savannah's comment, but when none was forthcoming, she plowed ahead, wrapping her arm around Savannah's waist. “I understand he's working for you.” An annoying giggle followed. “Savannah, I wonder if we really know you, after all. I've always thought of you as shy and retiring, but you know what they say about still waters.” The girlish giggle returned.

“There's someone I have to see,” Savannah said in an effort to escape.

“Laredo?” Louise asked. This was accompanied with a squeeze tight enough to make Savannah wince. “If you run out of work for him, you send him my way, understand?”

“If you'll excuse me, please…” Savannah said a little desperately.

The Moorhouse sisters, Edwina and Lily, stepped into the vestibule, distracting Louise. Both were retired schoolteachers. Miss Edwina had been Savannah's first-grade teacher and Miss Lily her third. The two were inseparable and Savannah loved them dearly.

“Good morning,” Savannah mumbled as she slipped past the elderly pair.

By the time she walked outside, she felt like gasping for air. Reverend McMillen stood just outside the large double doors and greeted each parishioner by name. Wade had a way of looking at a person and seeing more than the obvious. “Are you okay, Savannah?” he asked, holding her hand between both of his. “You're looking flushed.”

“I'm fine. Just a little warm.” Her discomfort had more to do with attracting unwelcome attention. All she wanted was to hurry home before someone else had the chance to corner her.

“Savannah! Savannah!” Maggie Daniels, Caroline's five-year-old daughter, raced to her side and proudly offered her a crayon drawing she'd made in Sunday-school class.

“Hi there, Maggie-may. What's this?” Savannah asked, studying the paper. Maggie was her joy, the child of her heart. It had been a shock when Caroline Daniels announced she was pregnant her senior year in college. From the beginning there'd been plenty of speculation about the father of Caroline's child, but Caroline had never said, and no one had ever asked. Caroline's mother, Florence, had served as postmistress in Promise for years, and when she died last spring, Caroline had taken over her duties.

Maggie had apparently transferred her love for her grandmother to Savannah. It made Savannah feel privileged, and she reciprocated the child's feelings a hundred percent. Recently Caroline had relied more and more on Savannah to baby-sit, but she never minded. It was a delight to spend time with the little girl.

“That's Joseph,” Maggie explained now, pointing to a lumpish figure in her drawing.

“Ah, I see,” Savannah said. “He's wearing his coat of many colors. Look what a good job you've done!”

Maggie glowed with pleasure. She tucked her small hand in Savannah's. “Where's Mommy?”

Savannah was about to ask the same thing. The question was answered soon enough hen Caroline exited the side door with the other members of the choir. It generally took her a few moments to hang up her robe and put away the music sheets.

“Mommy, Mommy, look!” Maggie cried, rushing toward her mother, pigtails bouncing. The youngster threw her arms around Caroline as if it'd been a year since they'd seen each other.

“Would you like to join us for brunch?” Caroline asked, lifting Maggie into her arms.

Savannah declined with a quick shake of her head. “I put a roast in the oven before I left.”

“Did Louise corner you?” Caroline lowered her voice.

“She tried.”

“Hey, give the old biddy something to talk about.”

“Caroline!”

“She's jealous, that's all.”

“Jealous of what?” Savannah wanted to know.

“Of you. For being young and pretty and having a good-looking man in your life.”

“Laredo's not in my life—at least not in the personal sense,” Savannah felt obliged to protest—although she wished it wasn't true. She'd like him to kiss her or hold her hand—anything so she'd know he felt the same things she did. Once she'd caught him looking at her and she thought he seemed…interested, but she couldn't be sure. If she'd had more experience, she'd know.

“Well, more's the pity,” Caroline said with a laugh. “A little romance would do you a world of good.”

“What about you?” Caroline was a fine one to talk. Savannah couldn't remember the last time her friend had gone out on a date.

“Me? Romance?” Caroline shook her head. “No, thanks. I've had enough romance to last me a lifetime.”

“Oh, Caroline, don't allow one negative experience to sour you forever.”

Sadness dimmed her eyes, although Caroline made an effort to hide it. “Some people are meant to fall in love, and then there are people like me…” Her words faded and she looked away.

Savannah's heart went out to her, but she didn't know what else to say.

 

L
AREDO HEARD
W
ILEY WHISTLING
in the back of the bunkhouse. The old coot was certainly in a good mood. By nature the foreman appeared to be an easygoing sort, but this afternoon he was downright cheerful.

Stitching a stirrup, Laredo inserted the needle into the worn leather. No one had asked him to repair the saddle, but he had time on his hands, and keeping himself occupied was better than sitting around doing nothing. He wasn't a man who could remain idle long.

Although it was none of his concern, he'd visited the barn and inspected the horses. They were well cared for and in good health. Widowmaker, the stallion kept for breeding purposes, reminded Laredo of Grady. Man and beast shared the same temperament—although he figured he'd have a better relationship with Widowmaker than he ever would with Grady. Horses instinctively recognized Laredo as a friend. He shared an affinity with them that was the key to his success as a wrangler. From the time he was a toddler he'd enjoyed working with his father and their horses.

One of his fondest childhood memories was of his father holding him high enough to pet and talk to Midnight, a beautiful roan gelding. Memories of his father were few and far between. Laredo had been six when word came that Russell Aaron Smith had been killed in a country with a name he couldn't pronounce. He'd bled to death in a rice field six thousand miles from home. Shortly afterward Laredo's mother had moved back with her parents, into the very house where she'd been born, and had never remarried. His grandfather was a good man, patient and caring, but he'd owned an office-supply store and didn't understand Laredo's love of the country or his passion for horses.

As a teenager Laredo had started working summers on local ranches. His talent was soon recognized. To please his mother he'd graduated from high school, but the instant that diploma had been placed in his hand he was gone. She'd dated Clyde Schneider for years and Laredo had always assumed that once he was out of the picture they'd finally get married, but it hadn't happened.

His mother would love Savannah, Laredo thought, but he hesitated to say anything in his next letter home for fear she'd give the relationship more importance than it warranted. Laura Smith wanted grandchildren and brought up the subject at every opportunity, reminding him that it was time he settled down, started a family. He'd dismissed her heavy hints; he didn't consider himself the marrying kind. Not now, anyway, when he had nothing to offer a woman other than a few hundred dusty acres he'd bought in Oklahoma and a stallion he'd recently spent his life savings to acquire. Laredo was on his way to pick him up. Renegade—the horse he'd pinned his dreams on. The horse he hoped would sire a dynasty of quarter horses. But right now that was all he had—and Savannah Weston deserved a damn sight more. If he was ever in a position to entertain marriage, he hoped he found a woman like her. No, he couldn't mention Savannah to his mother; if he did he'd never hear the end of it.

Wiley broke into song and Laredo gave an involuntary shudder at the off-key rendition of an old Kenny Rogers hit. He couldn't recall the title, but it was some ballad about a woman not taking her love to town. In Wiley's version the words were barely distinguishable, the tune not at all.

When Wiley appeared, his hair was wet and slicked back, his boots polished. He wore a tan suede jacket and string tie with a turquoise piece the size of a silver dollar. He reeked of cologne so strong, Laredo's eyes watered.

“You're lookin' right pretty,” Laredo teased the foreman.

Wiley laughed. “I'm off to visit the Widow Johnson in Brewster. Grady can work himself into an early grave if he wants, but I've got places to go, people to see. Don't be concerned if I'm a bit late this evening.” He winked and all but danced out the door.

If Laredo remembered correctly, Brewster was at least a hundred miles east of Promise. Wiley's cheer was contagious, though, and he couldn't keep from smiling at the older man's pleasure. His task finished, Laredo carried the saddle back into the barn and returned his tools. He'd watched Savannah walk out to the car this morning, a Bible in her hand, and knew she was headed for church.