Heart Of Texas (Historical Romance) (15 page)

After he had gathered everything he needed,
he knelt down beside her, his feelings raw and
close to the surface. "First," he told her, "I am
going to cleanse the wound. That's the part that'll
hurt the most. Hold still." He dabbed at the
wound, wishing he did not have to cause her
more pain.

She sucked in her breath, and tears gathered
in her eyes as the wound burned painfully. She
relaxed a bit when he applied soothing ointment,
then winced when he taped the bandage in place.

Gabe was reluctant to move away from her, but
after he had eased her gown back onto her shoulder, he could think of no excuse to linger.

"You should have Kate look at this tomorrow."

His thigh brushed against her leg when he
stood, and she felt a shock go through her whole
body. She quickly buttoned her gown. When he
held out his hand, she allowed him to help her
stand.

"Thank you."

He smiled down at her and reached out to untangle a curl from the back of her gown. "Anytime, boss lady."

Casey edged toward the door and rushed outside. He stood for a long time without moving.

He couldn't remember when he had wanted a
woman so much. He'd been with a few, but they
had disappeared from his thoughts as soon as he
left them. He had a feeling he would remember this one a long time after he'd left the Spanish
Spur.

Casey slowed her steps when she reached the
house. Her heart was beating so fast she could
hardly catch her breath. She could still feel the
touch of his hand on her skin. When he had knelt
beside her, they had been so close she could see
the stubble where he needed to shave.

When he'd glanced up at her, Casey had lowered her gaze. But no matter what she tried, her
gaze went back to him. He must have just bathed,
because his hair had still been wet, and she had
wanted to push her fingers through the dampness. She wanted desperately to touch him, to lay
her head against his shoulder and cry out all the
pain that had been building inside her since her
father's death.

She quietly opened the door and went inside
the dark house. It was stuffy in the room she
shared with jenny. She opened the window and
stared out into the night while she flexed her
shoulder. It could have been her imagination, but
it seemed to feel better already.

She lay down beside her sister, wondering how
she could get Gabe out of her thoughts. He was
a man, and she was a woman, and he had awakened her to that fact almost from their first meeting.

Why did she feel so empty inside? Why did she
want to run back to the bunkhouse and throw herself into Gabe's arms? She wanted him to hold
her tightly against him. She closed her eyes and
felt a light breeze cool her body.

She had to think of something else. She closed
her eyes, and weariness soon overcame her resistance and she fell asleep.

Saddle leather creaked as Gabe dismounted and
walked up the steps of the house that he had
sworn never again to enter. He stood before the
massive wooden door, hesitant, knowing once he
stepped inside he would start something that
probably wouldn't stop until either he or Cyrus
was dead.

He was suddenly struck by memories of when
he'd first been brought to Casa Mesa. At that time
he had still been grieving for his mother, who had
just died. He had been placed under the care of
a father he had hardly known, who had taken him
away from everything familiar in his life.

As a young boy he had lived through anguish
in this house. Cyrus had been cruel and demanding, and he seemed to derive some kind of sick
pleasure from humiliating those around him. But
Gabe had found an unexpected ally in his half
sister, Nora, who had become a wonderful com panion. It wasn't until a few years had passed that
Gabe understood why Cyrus had brought him to
the house. It hadn't been out of any fatherly affection.

Looking back, he wondered if there could have
been a way to prevent the tragedy that had befallen Nora, but no one had known the extent to
which Cyrus would go to get his own way.

Gabe placed his hand on the doorknob, feeling
the cold brass beneath his fingers. He had been
the one who'd found Nora's body, and the scene
kept playing over in his mind. He would sometimes awake during the night drenched in sweat,
trying to forget the awful sight of her lying in a
pool of her own blood. The rage he had tried to
suppress for so long now reared up inside him,
almost choking him. He remembered how his father had stood in the doorway of Nora's room,
unwilling to go near her lifeless body, cursing her
for a weakling.

He had even refused to attend her funeral.

Cyrus was twisted, cruel, and cunning, and he
had now cast his greedy eyes on the Spanish Spur.
Gabe had to stop him. There were not many men
Gabe could call on to help, because everyone was
afraid of Cyrus; that fear allowed him to ride
roughshod over anyone who got in his way.

Gabe stepped inside the door and looked about
the main room-it was just the way he remembered it. It was large with overstuffed leather furniture that had been made in Italy especially to Cyrus's specifications-a fact that his father repeated to everyone who admired the furnishings.

The wooden floors were beautiful and unique,
made with wide planks that had come from California cypress trees. Gabe remembered the large
kitchen with its open hearth and many copper
pans hanging from racks.

He wondered if the cook, Juanita, was still
around. He had loved the plump little woman as
a boy. She had often made him special desserts
that Cyrus never knew about.

He glanced at the dark mahogany staircase that
curved upward in two different directions and led
to five bedrooms. The one room he knew the
least about was his father's study, since he had
been in it only one time: the day he had told his
father that he had joined the army, and he
wouldn't be coming back.

Memories of the past walked beside him as he
moved down the long hallway that led to the
study. He took a deep breath and stopped at the
doorway. He was there for a purpose, and he
wouldn't leave until he faced his father.

Gabe's footsteps were silent as he stepped into
the room. There behind the desk, with his head
bent over paperwork, was the man Gabe despised
most in the world.

Cyrus didn't even look up when he spoke. "I've
been expecting you, Gabe. Come in and sit down.
I'm just finishing up here. I'll be with you
shortly."

"Thank you, I'll stand. What I have to say to
you won't take long. I know you're the one responsible for poisoning the cattle on the Spanish
Spur. And I came to warn you to stay away from
the Hamiltons. They are under my protection."

Cyrus shoved his papers aside and glanced at
Gabe. "Is that right?" There was utter contempt
in Cyrus's voice, and a coldness in his eyes that
chilled to the bone. "So the boy thinks he's become a man and thinks he can take on his father?"

"I am a man, and I will stop you. No one knows
you like I do. You won't quit until you get what
you want." Gabe leaned against the door and
crossed his arms over his chest. "You aren't going
to win this time, Cyrus."

For the first time Cyrus really looked at his son;
Gabe had become a man in the years he'd been
away. He favored his mother in many ways, but
there was plenty of evidence that Gabe was his
son, too. They were about the same height and
their eye color was the same. Over the years Cyrus
had grown accustomed to people either avoiding
his gaze or looking into his eyes with fear. There
was no fear in his son's eyes, and it gave him a
certain feeling of pride, but that pride would not
stop him from bringing Gabe down and crushing
him beneath his boots.

Gabe noticed the changes in his father. There
was gray at his temples and a slight stoop to his
shoulders. The lines were deeper along his mouth. He had aged more than Gabe had expected. His eyes were just as hard and cold, but
now his brows were dusted with gray and not stark
black, as they had been the last time he'd seen
him.

"And you think you will be the one to stop me?"
Cyrus asked, his eyes marble-hard and cold.

"Yes, I will. I've watched you destroy lives with
the same dispassion you would feel if you swatted
a mosquito. You are responsible for my sister's
death as surely as if you had pulled the trigger
yourself."

His father shot to his feet, rage twisting his features. "I did nothing but try to give her some
backbone, but she was a weakling like her mother.
She latched on to that bastard Yates, thinking she
loved him. She should've known I'd never let her
marry a man like him. But you are not here to
talk about Nora, and I don't want to hear anything more about her. As far as I'm concerned, I
never had a daughter, and I certainly don't have
a son."

Gabe noticed that his father was breathing
heavily, and he had paled. He had struck a nerve
by bringing up Nora's death. Cyrus had been
more affected by his daughter's death than he
would have anyone believe.

"My sister deserved better than you gave her.
She deserved a better life than the one you provided. But you're the one I pity the most. You destroyed everything that was good in your life
because of greed."

Cyrus stormed around the desk and planted
himself directly in front of his son. "Pity me? The
bastard I brought into my home and sat at my
table! Pity me!"

Gabe's gaze did not waver. "A bastard, no. You
did marry my mother, although I never could figure out what she saw in you."

"I'll just tell you about your mother. She was
the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, with her
long black hair and doelike eyes that could look
right into a man's soul."

"You have no soul."

Cyrus went on as if Gabe hadn't spoken. "I
wanted her, but she wouldn't have me without
marriage, so I obliged her with a proper ceremony. But if she thought I was going to parade
her before my friends and introduce her as my
wife, she was disappointed, wasn't she?"

"My mother loved you until the day she died,
even though you moved her to a small cabin miles
from nowhere, and then neglected her. But I'm
not here to talk about my mother. I'm here to
warn you to stay away from the Hamilton family.
I will do whatever it takes to keep you from destroying another life. Nora's spirit demands that
of me."

Cyrus's eyes dimmed, and his eyebrows met in
a frown across the bridge of his nose. "Don't do
it, Gabe. Come home to me and we'll build an empire together, something that will last long after we're both gone."

Gabe was shocked by his father's words. Before
now, he had not been invited to be a real son.
But it was too late now; he didn't want what Cyrus
offered. "If you want to build an empire, you'll
have to do it without me. I never realized it before
this, but you have no family, no friends. No one
to care if you live or die. You have only the men
you pay to be loyal to you, and many of them have
left out of fear. That can't give you much comfort
in the dead of night."

"Know this and remember it-I'll kill you if you
get in my way, Gabe!"

"I have no doubt you'll try. Consider yourself
warned. Stay away from the Spanish Spur," Gabe
said as he turned and walked out of the room.

Cyrus shouted after him, "Come back here and
you can have all this! Don't you walk away from
me!"

Gabe kept walking. He didn't see the dark look
on Cyrus's face, or the fists that had balled at his
sides.

"No one talks to me that way," the old man said
to himself. "No one!"

It was late when Gabe arrived back at the Spanish
Spur. His gaze automatically went to the main
house, and in his imagination he could envision
Casey curled up, soft and asleep. But he wouldn't
allow his mind to go any further than that.

He had been caught by her smile and captured
by the golden laughter that spilled out of her
mouth. That mouth he wanted to take with his.
As he wanted to take her tempting body.