Texas Homecoming (5 page)

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, “but I mean to see that things are easier for you from now on.”

She was subjecting him to that look again—measuring, calculating. Did she doubt his word, or was she unable to stop thinking of him as the wild-eyed kid and see in him the man he had become?

She turned back to her work. “The squatters haven’t bothered us in some time. I doubt they’ll do so now with four more men here.”

“Do you think you can handle all the extra work our being here will cause?”

“It’s not much different to cook for six men than two. I just cook more of everything.”

Had he hoped she would admit that the job was too much for her, that she couldn’t manage without him? If so, he was a fool. As she had so often told him, her grandmother was a Cordoba. They had been proud Spanish aristocrats for generations. A Cordoba would
never
ask a Wheeler for help. It would be like asking a servant—or a peasant.

“Just let me know if you need anything.” He picked up
his supplies. “We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow.”

“Breakfast will be ready an hour before you leave.”

“You don’t have to fix breakfast.”

“It’s my job. As long as I’m here, I’ll do it.”

Pride shot from her eyes like tiny swords intended to prick his skin and remind him who she was.

“The army taught me it doesn’t matter who does the job as long as everyone’s working toward the same end.”

“We aren’t,” Pilar said. “We never will be. Breakfast will be ready an hour before you leave.”

“Make sure you fix plenty,” he said, his words sounding sharp even to his own ears. “Working men eat a lot.”

“I hope the horses have wandered very far away,” Pilar’s grandmother said. “I hope they will be gone a long time.”

Pilar had joined her grandmother in the bedroom that had belonged to Earl and his wife. It was barely large enough for the bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and two tables. Her grandmother had removed one of the tables to make room for the chair she occupied most of the day. She had converted the other table into an altar with a small statue of the Virgin Mary, which she prayed to several times a day. A shawl and a mantilla broke the expanse of bare walls, and a heavy shawl draped over the front window gave privacy. The other window looked out on the tangle of oaks that led from the house to the nearby creek.

“The men are a lot of trouble, but I feel safer having them around.”

“How can you feel safe around Cade Wheeler? He is a beast. He—”

“How many times do I have to tell you kidnapping me was just a prank?” Pilar asked, exasperation making her
impatient. “He did it just to prove he could.”

“They’re nothing but thieving peasants. Wait until Laveau returns. Everything will be different then.”

Pilar didn’t bother arguing with her grandmother. She had learned long ago that no matter how much she accomplished, she would receive no credit. Laveau might succeed in driving out the squatters and getting their land back, but he would never restore the family to prosperity. She knew it would fall on her to make their ranch successful, that she was the only one with the will, grit, and perseverance, as well as an open mind capable of seeing the ways in which everything had changed. It didn’t make her like Cade any more to know he had the same kind of mind.

“Whatever they are, they’re all that stands between us and starvation,” Pilar pointed out.

“We’ve paid for everything we got,” her grandmother said. “A gentleman would have refused to take anything. In Spain we offered hospitality to everyone.”

Pilar didn’t bother reminding her grandmother that Earl Wheeler didn’t believe in giving anything to anybody. He had been willing to protect them, but he expected to be paid for it.

Cade was different.

Although he had just as much stiff-necked pride as his grandfather, he didn’t act as if he thought she’d been incapable of taking care of herself while he was gone. He had thanked her for taking care of his grandfather, even acknowledged that it couldn’t have been easy. She didn’t want to think she was silly enough to fall victim to the first man who flattered her, but no man had ever thanked her for anything. Or given her credit for being able to do anything more complicated than choose her own clothes.

“I want you to stay away from him,” her grandmother said.

“Stay away from whom?”

“Cade Wheeler. Whom did you think I was talking about?”

“There are four men here. You could have meant any one of them.”

“The others do not look for wives. They just want money. They will leave after that.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.”

“By looking at them?”

“I hear them talking,” her grandmother said with obvious reluctance. “Men never speak softly. They think it does not matter if a woman hears what they say. This house is built with walls as thin as silk. I hear everything.”

Pilar smiled to herself. Her grandmother must have stood outside the kitchen door listening to the conversation inside. “Why should you feel you have to warn me to stay away from Cade?”

“The Wheelers are very handsome men, and Manuel is slow to come.”

Pilar didn’t want to think of the distant cousin to whom she’d been affianced when she was ten years old. He should have come for her and her grandmother when the war started, prevented the squatters from taking over their hacienda, married her without hesitation.

Instead she had heard nothing from him for more than four years. Now that she was poor and had no dowry, she didn’t expect to see him at all. “Manuel’s coming has nothing to do with Cade Wheeler,” Pilar said. “I talk to Cade because I have to. He doesn’t like me any more than I like him.”

“You are very pretty. Young men like him are subject to wild passions. He might lose control. He might—”

Pilar couldn’t help laughing. The idea that Cade might fall prey to a ‘wild passion’ was absurd. Now that he felt he was in her debt, he probably wouldn’t even talk to her. “Cade would rather take a vow of celibacy than touch me.”

“He must know you are far above him, but these American men think they can marry any woman they want.”

“Marry!” Pilar exclaimed, her voice perilously close to a squeak. “He’d never consider marrying me.”

“I am sure he has thought much about it. You are beautiful, young, rich—”

“Not anymore.”

“—and much too good for him. That is enough to make a Wheeler determined to have you.”

“It won’t do him any good if I refuse.”

“He is very handsome. Have you never wondered what it would be like to be his wife?”

Chapter Five

Pilar couldn’t quite describe the feeling that meandered its way through her body, leaving pockets of warmth in one place, causing shivers in the next, as she considered her grandmother’s question. She’d never felt like this—except the time Cade kidnapped her. She’d been frightened by the speed of the horse, the suddenness of the attack, and the uncertainty of its ending. Yet she’d also been excited. She’d never before sat behind a man on a horse, her arms wrapped tightly around him for safety, her body pushing hard against his. No man except her father and brother had ever touched her. She’d never been alone with a man. She had never been the center of attention. In her family, men held the stage practically from the moment of birth.

“How could I when you always said he was the offspring of the devil?”

“Sometimes young girls cannot see that such a man is a great danger to them. I did not want you to be dazzled by his looks.”

“I’m not.”

“Never forget you are of noble blood.”

“It’s unfortunate our
noble blood
can’t keep us from being dependent on Cade and his grandfather for our safety.”

“Adversity comes to everyone, but we will rise again.”

“With the help of the Wheelers.”

“It is the destiny of such people to be useful. If they had not been thieves, we would have shown our gratitude. As it is, Laveau must destroy them.”

Pilar didn’t bother pointing out that the Wheelers were the ones in a position of power. Maybe being in the army had taught Laveau responsibility, planning, perseverance. The land and the cows already belonged to him. If only he had acquired the knowledge and determination to work. Cade had those things. “In the meantime we’re dependent on them.”

“We have more than paid them for their services. I do not hold myself in their debt.”

In her grandmother’s eyes, people were her social equals or servants. As servants, anything they did could be compensated for and therefore left her under no obligation. Pilar believed that was part of the reason her grandmother stayed in her room. She couldn’t command Earl Wheeler as a servant in his own home. If she came out, she would have to speak to him as an equal, and her grandmother would never do that.

Pilar stood. Though this was Earl Wheeler’s house, entering this bedroom was like entering a different world, one a little bit like the world she had left. It offered her comfort. She could be certain that Earl would never bring his sour face and insults in here.

But now there was work to be done. She didn’t think Cade and the others would get back tonight, but she had
to be ready to feed them if they did. She hoped they wouldn’t come back for at least two more days. Tomorrow she had to do the washing, and she had no intention of washing for all those men. She didn’t know what Cade would say when he discovered that.

“It’s about time you did some work,” Earl said as she stepped out of the house. He was sitting on the porch, rocking, his rifle across his lap, eyeing the trail down which Cade had disappeared. “I could use some supper about now.”

“You’ll eat when I get it ready.” He didn’t expect to eat now. He’d said that to irritate her. She guessed it came from knowing she paid for the food he ate. Treating her like a servant made him feel less beholden. He was like her grandmother. She shuddered at the heresy of that thought.

“If you didn’t hide in that room yapping with
that woman,
you’d have time to do your work.”

He refused to call her by name, always referred to her grandmother as
that woman.

“I hide there so I won’t have to put up with your complaints or see your scowling expression. It’s hard to cook with a sour stomach.”

“You can’t cook no matter what your stomach’s doing.”

“I’ll be happy to turn the stove over to you,” she said, taking down the egg basket and grabbing the milk pail.

“I’m not doing all your work for you.”

She hurried down the steps and across the yard, ignoring his reply. They indulged in the same sparring each day. He couldn’t stop criticizing and complaining about everything she did any more than she could stop replying in kind. It had been going on for so long, neither of them got upset by what the other said. She was beginning to wonder if
they could ever learn to converse differently. Not that there was any need. She would leave this ranch the moment Laveau returned.

It didn’t take long to collect the eggs. The hens were kept penned up to protect them from varmints. It seemed virtually everything that walked on four legs liked the taste of chicken. Earl’s hound dog kept coyotes away from the house, but he’d kill any chicken that managed to get out of the pen. Pilar didn’t complain. The dog had twice warned them of squatters.

Milking the cow took longer, but Pilar enjoyed the company of the large, dun-colored animal. She was surprised the cow had had the patience to endure her learning how to milk, but the placid bovine merely turned a curious eye as she chewed her cud. Pilar had fallen into the habit of talking to the cow while she did the milking. Earl thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care what Earl thought.

“I don’t know whether I need butter, cream, or milk,” she said. “Four new men to feed, and I don’t know a thing about them.” Long streams of warm milk pinged against the bottom and sides of the metal bucket, the sounds becoming muted as milk covered the bottom.

The cow turned her head and focused her large brown eyes on Pilar.

“I shouldn’t care what they want. They’re just like Cade, convinced no woman is half as smart as they are. I wonder how they think we got through the war without them. They probably don’t notice that farms are still producing, ranches still running, and San Antonio is as busy as ever.” As her agitation increased, she milked harder and harder, driving the milk into the bucket with such force that foam began to form on the surface.

A particularly vigorous pull on the cow’s teat caused her
to shake her head and stamp her foot. Part of the milk missed the bucket.

“If you don’t want that, I’d rather you aim it at my mouth.”

Pilar started so badly she nearly turned the bucket over. She turned to find herself facing a total stranger. The man’s tattered Confederate uniform gave her hope that he was friendly, but Earl had filled her ears with many tales of soldiers who preyed on helpless women. “Who are you?” she managed to ask, hoping her voice didn’t betray the extent of her fear.

“Broc Kincaid, ma’am. I’m looking for Cade Wheeler’s ranch.”

“What do you want him for?” She couldn’t take her eyes off his face.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“Then could you tell me how to find him?”

“As soon as I know why you want him.”

She didn’t know why she was trying to protect Cade. He could take care of himself, even with a man as fierce-looking as Mr. Kincaid.

“I served under him during the war,” Broc said. “I’ve come to help him hang the bastard who betrayed us. In the meantime, he offered me work. I could do with a grub-stake.”

Pilar’s fears receded. Cade had said more men would be coming, but he hadn’t mentioned that one of them would have such a badly scarred face. Pilar knew he knew she was staring at his face, but he stood his ground.

She’d been startled at first—no, frightened—but she had herself under control now. Once she realized that the other side of Broc’s face was exceptionally handsome, she felt a
great rush of pity. It must be horribly difficult for such a good-looking man to know that for the rest of his life people would recoil at the sight of him.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for being so suspicious. A woman can’t be too careful these days. You never know who might come up when your husband isn’t about.”

“Is Cade married? Are you his wife?” He sounded shocked.

“No, I’m not Cade’s wife, and he’s not married. I’m Pilar diViere. My grandmother and I are staying here until my brother comes home.”

Even before she’d finished her explanation, she sensed a stiffening in Broc’s posture, a coldness in his attitude. He’d been stiff at first, prepared for her reaction to his scar, but this was different. Now he was angry, and his anger was directed at her.

“Is your brother Laveau diViere?”

“Yes.” She could feel the condemnation in his voice.

“Do you know what he did?”

“I know he changed sides during the war.” She rushed ahead, unable to stop defending her brother. “The Texas courts have let Americans steal our land and will do nothing about it. You can’t blame him for not feeling loyal to such a government.”

“Your brother hasn’t come home yet.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“No. I’m hoping to hear from him any day now.”

“So am I,” Broc said, his expression grim. “I have a lot to say to him.”

“I won’t have anybody on my place taking up with the diVieres,” Earl announced as he rounded the corner of the shed, his rifle pointed at Broc, his hound dancing about his heels, growling, teeth bared, but keeping his distance.
“You look like one of Cade’s bunch of lean and hungry jackals come to fatten on my ranch. Well, you needn’t think I’m going to allow it. I say who stays and who goes.”

“I gather you’re Cade’s grandpa.” Broc stuck out his hand. “I’m Broc Kincaid. Served under your grandson the whole time I was in the army.”

“Lot of good that did you,” Earl said, keeping his distance and his rifle raised. “Looks like he let you get your face blowed off.”

Much to Pilar’s surprise, Broc didn’t seem upset at the mention of his scar. “Our troop was betrayed. This scar is a small price to pay for being alive. If it hadn’t been for Cade’s hunches, none of us would have made it.”

“He’s been having them
hunches
all his life,” Earl said. “Didn’t keep him from turning up with the shabbiest bunch of friends I ever saw, and you look worse than the others. How am I supposed to know who you are?”

“He said he was in Cade’s troop,” Pilar said.

“Well, he can say anything he wants, can’t he? Then he can cut our throats, rob us in our sleep.” He grinned at Pilar. “You got any notion what he could do to you?”

Pilar squeezed a few more streams of milk from the cow before standing. “I have a very good notion. Supper will be ready in about an hour,” she said to Broc. “Why don’t you unsaddle your horse and put your stuff in the bunkhouse?”

“What makes you think you make the rules around here?” Earl shouted at Pilar. “I ain’t bedding down with no man I’ve never seen before.”

“I’ll sleep out, if you don’t mind,” Broc said, to all appearances not the least ruffled by Earl’s lack of hospitality. “Cade said you were as prickly as a cockle burr.”

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” Pilar said. “Don’t
worry about the dog. He acts fierce, but he won’t bite.”

“He’ll tear your throat out if you make a wrong move,” Earl said.

“Then I hope you lock him up tonight. I’d hate to die in my sleep.”

“Bullet ain’t never locked up. Twice he’s warned us of squatters. Drove them off both times.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Kincaid,” Pilar said. “I hope you’ll excuse me while I start supper.”

“Call me Broc.”

“You don’t have to act fancy with her,” Earl said. “She ain’t nothing but hired help.”

Pilar bit her tongue, turned, and headed for the house. Would she ever stop getting riled when Earl referred to her as
the help
? He did it just to provoke her. And she did cook, clean, and wash—the usual tasks for
hired help.
She scolded herself for her pride. She had watched pride turn her grandmother into a dissatisfied old woman who spent her life trying to recapture a past that had ceased to exist. Laveau was too proud to work, to acquire the knowledge necessary to rebuild the family fortune. A man should take pride in his own accomplishments, not look to the past to provide him with respect. The past would not help her now.

Broc said he had come to Texas to help Cade hang a traitor. Pilar had the terrifying suspicion that traitor might be her brother.

Pilar couldn’t sleep. The uneasy feeling that had settled over her when Broc arrived wouldn’t go away. Broc had stayed outside until it was time for supper, then left the kitchen immediately afterward. He had talked easily with Earl and Jessie during the meal, but the whole time he kept
glancing at Pilar as though she were a coiled snake about to strike.

His string of jokes and stories had put Earl in such a good mood he’d invited Broc to bed down in the bunkhouse. Broc said he was so used to sleeping outdoors he expected it would take him some time to get used to sleeping under a roof again. He then proceeded to tell more stories, but he never again mentioned the traitor or what they planned to do to him.

Pilar grew even more suspicious when Broc pretended to have had only a slight acquaintance with Laveau and no interest in his present whereabouts. He’d asked if she knew when he was coming home but appeared to be unaffected when she said she hadn’t heard from him in more than a month.

“Something is going on,” she had said to her grandmother. “I need to find out what it is.”

“How do you propose to do that?” her grandmother asked, uninterested in the appearance of another of Cade’s fellow soldiers.

“I’ll have to try to get friendly with one of them.”

Her grandmother’s attention became sharply focused then. “I order you to stay away from Cade.”

“I didn’t mean Cade. He and Holt are too clever, Rafe doesn’t say anything, and Broc watches me with suspicion. I was thinking of Owen.”

“That one is not serious about anything.”

“I don’t know about that, but he is interested in me.”

“He’s interested in a
woman.
Besides, he is more clever than he looks. You will never get him to talk about anything but women.”

“Then maybe I should try Cade.”

“I do not trust him.”

“I don’t trust him either, but they know something about Laveau. I think they believe he betrayed them. If so, they mean to hang him.”

That had set her grandmother off on a long tirade about the unfairness of a world where people like the Wheelers were allowed to take land from a family like the diVieres. She had ended with a pronouncement that Laveau was smarter than Cade and all his friends put together, that Pilar was not to think of getting friendly with Cade. He would see through her immediately.