A Texan's Honor (11 page)

“See, she doesn't give me any respect at all.”

Bret could tell from the love-filled look on Sam's face that the father-daughter relationship was entirely to his satisfaction.

“I'll give you one hour,” Emily said. “If you're not done by then, I'm coming down and carrying you off to bed. You,” she said, directing a severe look at Bret, “are not to let him get worked up. If you do, you'll be on a horse back to Fort Worth before you know what happened to you.”

“I promise,” Bret said.

Emily kissed her father on the forehead and headed upstairs.

“I love that girl, but she's more than I can handle,” Sam said. “One of the reasons I want her to go to Boston is to find a husband who's good enough for her.”

“Do you mean one who's strong enough to handle her?”

“No, I don't.” The emphasis was impossible to miss. “There's nothing wrong with Emily. She's a lot like me, so why would I think she needs to be handled?”

“I obviously chose the wrong word,” Bret said. “Sorry.”

“I want her to find a man who can appreciate her strengths, not just be interested in her looks and her money.”

“I don't mean to be disrespectful, but you have to realize that men in Boston aren't any different from men anywhere else in the world. Looks and money come first. It takes time for a man to see past that to character. Not many succeed—or want to try.”

Sam seemed to shrink a little in his chair. “I should
have sold this ranch after her mother died, but I didn't want to leave Texas. I didn't want to share my little girl or my life with my family. Hell, I don't like my family. Why would I want to live with them?”

“Are they really that bad?” Bret didn't know the Abercrombies well. He wasn't considered on their social level.

“Why do you think I contacted Silas Abbott? I wouldn't send my dog to my brother.”

“Then why do you want Emily to go to Boston?”

“Because she can't stay here. She could run this place by herself, but who could she marry? Lonnie?”

“She could move to Fort Worth or Dallas.”

“Nothing but cowhands, good-for-nothings, and thieves. I wouldn't send my dog there.”

“You know Emily is dead set against going to Boston, don't you?” Bret said.

“I'm sick, not deaf or stupid.”

Bret laughed. “I just want you to know it'll be very difficult to change her mind.”

Sam gave him a penetrating look. “I get the feeling you're a very capable young man, probably able to convince young women to do things they probably shouldn't do.”

“Maybe, but I haven't talked any young woman out of her reputation.”

Sam laughed heartily. “I never heard it phrased quite so politely. In my day we said a young woman had disgraced herself.”

“I haven't caused one to do that, either.”

Sam's gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong with you?”

Now it was Bret's turn to laugh. “I'm perfectly normal, but I'm a poor relation trying to convince my family I won't disgrace them if they let me in the front door,” Bret said, hoping he hadn't let the bitterness
he felt seep into his voice. “Why would I do something to hurt my own cause?”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “Maybe you've come to Texas to advance your own cause?”

Bret took a moment to taste his brandy. It was very good, quite expensive, but tonight it didn't suit his palate. “My uncle sent me because he thinks I'm the one member of his family who won't be soiled by being in Texas.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I hate it.” Bret hadn't meant to be quite so honest, but Sam wasn't a man to tolerate pretense. “I've worked long hours for Abbott and Abercrombie but have gotten nowhere. When I told Uncle Silas I might not be able to convince Emily to go to Boston, he told me not to come back without her.”

“He sounds a lot like my brother.”

“So I made up my mind to offer you a deal,” Bret said.

“If Silas thinks so little of you, what can you offer me?”

“You want Emily to be where she's safe, but you want someone to look after her to make sure she doesn't marry the wrong man.”

Sam wasn't allowed brandy, but at this point he drew the bottle toward himself and took a swallow directly from the bottle. “Go on.”

“I will undertake to convince Emily to move to Boston. I'm prepared to stay here for several months if it takes that long.”

“Until I'm dead.”

Bret hadn't wanted to say that. He was grateful Sam did it for him.

“If I can convince her to go to Boston, I'll see she doesn't marry anyone who will treat her badly. Don't ask me how I'll do that, because I don't know yet.”

“And what is this going to cost me? Half my ranch? Half my fortune?”

“Just the right to vote your stock.”

Sam pushed the brandy bottle away and leaned forward. “Are you trying to take over the company?”

Bret shook his head. “Uncle Silas has kept me in piddly jobs for six years, but that time has given me a chance to see how the company works. If we don't make some changes, we'll be out of business in ten years.”

“I knew the company wasn't making much money, but I didn't think it was that bad.”

“I've worked out a plan to restructure the company. My cousin Rupert Swithin—another poor relation—agrees it's what we need to do to survive. Even my grandmother thinks it's a good plan.”

“I haven't thought of Elizabeth in years. Is she as independent as she always was?”

“If it hadn't been for her, Uncle Silas wouldn't have given me a job.”

“So you're a young rebel who wants to bring down the head lion. Why should I help you?”

“Because I can help
you
.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Bret laughed. “You can't expect me to give away all my secrets.”

Sam slammed his fist down on the table. “I won't have you trying to make Emily fall in love with you just so you can push your way into a job I can't be sure you can handle.”

Bret sobered quickly, reined in his temper. “I'm not ready to get married, and I'm not in a position to marry in any case.”

“Your position wouldn't matter if you married Emily.”

Bret could see that Sam wasn't going to give in
quickly, but he respected the older man for not accepting Bret's word without any validation. “I'm not asking you to commit to anything now. I realize you don't know anything about me, but you haven't been able to convince Emily to go to Boston on your own, and you won't be able to guide her after you're gone. At some point, you're going to have to trust someone.”

“And you think that person ought to be you?”

“As I see it, you have four choices—your brother, Uncle Silas, Joseph, or me. You have to decide which one you trust with your daughter's future.”

“You think you've got me cornered, don't you?”

“No.”

“Don't lie to me, boy. You know I can't stand my brother and don't trust Silas or his boy.”

“You could ask my grandmother.”

“If she couldn't stop her husband from disinheriting her own daughter, she couldn't protect Emily.”

“You could hire someone.”

“And have him sell out to Silas.”

Bret had expected to have a difficult time convincing Sam to trust him, but he seemed to be gaining ground. It would probably be better if he kept quiet now, but there was one fact he felt he couldn't withhold.

“This may not help my case,” Bret said, “but I feel I have to tell you I find your daughter very attractive.”

Sam grinned suddenly. “I'd think something was wrong with you if you didn't.”

“What I'm trying to say is that although I am attracted to her, I have no intention of deepening our relationship beyond trying to gain her friendship and trust. That will be necessary if she's to pay attention to any advice I might give her.”

“That's obvious, so why are you telling me this?”

“Because you have to trust me. If anything changes, I'll tell you.”

“Are you always so straightforward?”

He shrugged. “I try to be. The couple who adopted me insisted I never keep anything from them, even when I knew it was something they wouldn't like and didn't want to hear.”

Sam chuckled. “I can see why you and Silas don't get along.”

“It has nothing to do with that. Silas just doesn't think I'm good enough for him.”

“Then I know Silas better than you do.” Sam leaned back in his chair, subjected Bret to a look that was so long and hard, Bret had to check the impulse to squirm in his chair. “I'm going to have to trust you. First, because I don't trust anybody by the name of Abbott or Abercrombie. Second, I don't really have another choice. Third, I like the way you present yourself, no pretending you can pull off a miracle. But if you betray me, I'll make you wish you'd never been born.”

Bret was sure his smile was ironic. “You'll have to find a better threat than that. A small crowd of people have done that already, and I'm still here.”

A slow smile gradually lit Sam's hazel eyes. “I like you, boy. I kinda wish you were interested in marrying Emily.”

“It wouldn't do any good. She doesn't think I'm quite as useless as she did three days ago, but her opinion hasn't improved much.”

A door opened and closed upstairs. “Unless my ears deceive me,” Sam said, “that's Emily come to carry me off to bed. We'll talk again, but I accept your offer, on conditions.”

“What offer and what conditions?” Emily asked as she came into the dining room where they still occupied the same chairs they'd used during dinner. She had apparently changed into her bedclothes, because
her body was engulfed in a housecoat with only her hands and head visible. Elsewhere she had disappeared in a cloud of pale blue material that billowed around her when she moved. The most striking change was her hair. She'd unpinned it and allowed it to fall on her shoulders, framing her face in a cascade of soft brown brightened by blond highlights. It made her look more feminine, much more vulnerable. Bret had to remind himself he was here to do a job, not get emotionally involved with Emily.

“It's a secret,” Sam said to his daughter. “We men don't tell women everything, you know.”

“You should,” Emily said. “That way we could keep you out of trouble.”

“I don't want to be kept out of trouble. That's half the fun in life.”

Bret wasn't at all sure he could agree to that sentiment, but he could see how a man like Sam would feel that way. He was certain Emily felt the same. She might end up staying in Texas, unmarried, and running her ranch. But if she did marry, her husband was in for a bumpy ride.

“I know you and Bret have spent the last hour plotting against me.”

“It's for your own good,” Sam said.

Emily took her father's hand and helped him out of his chair. “Time for bed. You can dream about having a dutiful daughter who does everything you want.”

“Sounds very boring,” Sam said as he allowed Emily to lead him to his bedroom on the main floor. “I prefer a filly with spirit.”

“Tell Bret good night. It's way past your bedtime.”

“Stay in bed late,” Sam warned Bret. “She's got so much energy in the morning it makes me tired to be around her. We can see her at lunch after she's had time to slow down.”

“Don't listen to him,” Emily said. “He'd be in the saddle ahead of me if I'd let him.”

Bret remained at the table to finish his brandy. He could hear Emily and her father teasing each other, scolding, showing their love for each other. He found himself thinking of Jake and Isabelle. They teased and scolded each other from the time they got up until they went to bed, yet he'd never seen two people who were more devoted. They'd laid down rules for the orphans and made demands they expected them to fulfill, but no one ever doubted it was all done out of love.

Until he listened to Emily and her father, Bret had forgotten what it was like—and how much he missed such loving banter. Being part of the Maxwell clan had never been comfortable. There were too many strong-minded people who didn't want to trust, didn't want to belong, didn't want to feel they owed anybody anything. Yet somehow Isabelle had woven a web of love around all of them that was stronger than their distrust, their suffering, even their fear—a web so strong they finally began to feel like a family.

That was what he saw in Sam and Emily, a father and daughter who were such close friends they sometimes could switch roles without destroying the fabric of their relationship. He had nothing like that in Boston, and he never would. For the first time, he asked himself if what he hoped to gain could possibly compensate for what he'd given up.

He didn't like the answer.

“What were you and Bret plotting?” Emily asked when she'd finally settled her father in his enormous four-poster bed. “Don't bother denying it. I can see the guilt in your eyes.”

Her father's eyes twinkled. “I like that young man. I think you ought to listen to what he says.”

“I'm not sure we can trust him.”

“Why?”

Emily pulled a letter from her pocket. “This is from Joseph. He warned me Bret was sent here to bring me back to Boston, nothing more.”

“Has Bret implied he has something else in mind?”

“No, but Joseph said he might try to make me fall in love with him. He said Bret has been trying to force his way into the family ever since he arrived in Boston.”

“Since the boy is Joseph's cousin and Silas's nephew, I shouldn't think any
forcing
would be necessary.”

“Read it for yourself.” Emily held the letter out to her father, but he pushed it away.