One Texas Night (13 page)

She looked at him with a flash of surprise, as if she thought herself alone in the world.

For a moment he figured she’d tell him to mind his own business, but then he saw it . . . a smile that lifted the corner of her mouth. A pretty mouth, he thought, in a plain face.

“Thank you,” she whispered and took his hand as he helped her down.

The surrey shifted slightly and he placed his free hand on her waist to steady her. Though she stood taller than his shoulder, she felt soft, almost fragile. He didn’t offer to carry her. He had a feeling that would have embarrassed them both, but when she reached the ground, he tucked her gloved hand into his elbow and walked across the road to a boardwalk made from mostly green planks.

Once she stepped on the boards, he touched his hat and turned to leave.

“Thank you, Rowdy Darnell,” she whispered.

He froze. Without facing her, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course. We were in sixth grade together the year you and your father moved here.” Her soft voice changed slightly. “The year before I was sent away to school.”

Shifting, he wished she’d look up so he could see her face again. After his mother died, his father only sent him to school when he wanted an undisturbed day of drinking. Rowdy was there barely long enough to learn the other kids’ names. Not that it mattered much. They weren’t interested in being friends with the town drunk’s boy.

“Laurel,” Rowdy said slowly as the memory of a thin, shy girl drifted across his mind. “Laurel Hayes.” He remembered liking the way her name sounded.

She looked up. The tiny smile was back. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said in a voice as gentle as wind chimes whispering on a midnight breeze. “I ride by your father’s place once in awhile. Part of the roof on the cabin fell in last winter, but the barn still stands.”

He nodded, suddenly not wanting to leave her. “I figured that. The sheriff wrote me when my dad died. Sheriff Barnett said he sold off the last of the stock to pay debts.” Rowdy liked the way she looked him in the eye, silently telling him that she had no fear of him. He’d expected to see fear or even hatred in folks when he returned. “But, miss, I’m not coming back. Just passing through. Thought I’d sell the place and move on.”

Understanding showed in her eyes along with a sadness that surprised him. “The water’s good on your place. You could make a living running cattle.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he had less than twelve dollars in his pocket. Not enough to buy even a calf. If he remembered right, she was the oldest daughter of one of the richest ranchers around. She probably shouldn’t even be talking to the likes of him.

“Well . . .” He wished he knew more about what to say, but for five years most of the language he’d heard hadn’t been something a lady like her should ever hear. “I’d best be going.”

To his surprise, the sadness brushed across her pale blue eyes once more. She offered her gloved hand. “Good day, Mr. Darnell. I wish you luck.”

He hesitated, then gently took her hand in his. Touching someone was another thing he’d almost forgotten how to do.

When he didn’t say anything, or let go of her hand, she added, “I have to go. The registration for the rodeo events ends in an hour and my father wants me to make sure all our cowhands are signed up for at least one event. For a ten-dollar entry fee, each event pays fifty. The best all-around wins cattle. My father says even if his men don’t win, it will work some of the orneriness out of them.”

“I heard about the cattle prize.” Rowdy let go of her hand, thinking that if he entered one event he could walk away with fifty dollars, enough to keep him in food until the ranch sold.

She hesitated another moment, but neither could think of anything else to say. Rowdy watched her walk toward the post office where a banner flew announcing the rodeo.

He fingered the ten-dollar bill in his pocket. If he signed up and lost, he’d starve until he could sell his land and no one in town would likely offer him a job to tide him over. In fact, Laurel Hayes was probably the only person who would talk to him, and she wouldn’t be allowed after her bear of a father found out who he was. After all, at fifteen, they said he killed a man. The facts hadn’t mattered to the town when he’d been fifteen and they wouldn’t matter now.

Rowdy thought of the past five years and how he’d been in the saddle from dawn to dark most days. He’d loved working the prison herd and hated each night when they took him back to his cell. He knew he was good at roping and riding. If he entered the rodeo, he wouldn’t be just riding for the fun of it. He’d be riding to survive. He’d pick the category with the fewest entries, give it his all and collect his winnings.

Walking across to the post office he made up his mind that three days from now he’d be fifty dollars richer no matter what he had to do.

When he reached the registration table on the porch, several cowhands were standing around, but none seemed in line. He walked up and forced himself to stand tall.

“How can I help you, mister?” a man, who looked like a banker, said around a cigar.

“I’d like to enter one event.” Rowdy scanned the choices. Calf roping, bull dogging, tying down for branding, horse racing, saddle bronc riding, steer wrestling.

“Ten dollars for one event, but you can enter all you want for twenty. Then you’d have a chance at the grand prize. A whole herd of cattle.” The banker pulled out his cigar and pointed it at Rowdy. “Now that would make a cowboy a cattleman.” He laughed and waited.

Rowdy stepped away to think. Ten dollars more didn’t seem like much. Maybe he could find something to sell on the old ranch. His father used to have a box of tools in the barn. All together they might be worth ten dollars. But he’d never make it to the ranch and back in time, much less make the sale. The only thing he had of value was his saddle and if he sold that he’d have no way of winning any event.

Turning the corner of the building, he bumped into Laurel in the shadows. His hand shot out to steady her. “Sorry, miss.” With his fingers curved at her waist, he realized he would have known the feel of her even if the shadows had been black as night.

She looked embarrassed that they’d been so close, but she managed to nod her acceptance of his apology.

He relaxed. “Hiding out?”

She nodded again.

Her plan was painfully obvious. She hadn’t been invited to lunch. It was too early to go back to the surrey, and she couldn’t just wander the streets. The small alley between the bank and the post office offered refuge.

He tried to think of something to say. “I’m thinking of entering the rodeo.”

She managed to look up, her cheeks still spotted with embarrassment. “Best all-around?”

“No, it’s too expensive.” Now it was his turn to look down. He shouldn’t have told her that. The town idiot could figure out that he had more than ten and less than twenty dollars to his name.

They stood, silent for a while. He was too tall to see her face unless she looked up, but he felt good just standing near her. He’d been more boy than man when he’d been sent to prison. The smell of a woman had almost been forgotten.

Finally, he found words. “I thought I’d go take a look at the stock being brought in. They were starting to unload them when I got off the train. Would you like to walk over with me?”

“Yes . . . I’d like that, Mr. Darnell.” She didn’t look up.

He thought of telling her that he liked her voice, but offered his arm in silence for fear she’d change her mind if he talked too much.

She hesitated, then laid her gloved hand lightly atop his elbow.

“Call me Rowdy, Laurel,” he finally stammered. “After all, we’ve known each other since the sixth grade.” In his memory he could almost see her sitting in the back of the classroom, curled around a book, looking at no one.

She nodded and said in a very practical voice, “You’re right. We’ve known each other for years.”

They sliced between the buildings and circled to the corrals beside the railroad. Chuck wagons from the big ranches were already setting up camp at the far end. Rows and rows of pens and shoots framed a small arena. He found himself far more interested in her than the stock as they discussed the horses and cattle. To his surprise, she knew livestock, pointing out things he wouldn’t have noticed about the animals.

They walked, stopping now and then. She’d lean into the fence, getting closer to study the wild horses as carefully as a buyer might. But when she finished, she’d turn and place her hand on his arm as if it were the most natural thing.

When they were at the back fence, she finally faced him. She looked up, letting the sun shine on her face. He saw tiny freckles across her nose and tears sparkling in her eyes. Watery blue eyes, he thought, like a rainy morning sunrise.

“You may think me insane, Mr. Dar—I mean Rowdy, but I’ve something to ask you.” She looked like she was mustering every drop of courage inside her.

“Ask.” He studied her, half wishing she’d pull off her bonnet so he could see the color of her hair. Brown, he thought he remembered, light brown. “I’ve already decided you must be crazy to be walking with the likes of me. So I doubt I’ll be surprised by anything you say.”

She grinned, her smile almost crossing her mouth. “All right.” She raised her hand and opened it palm up. Lying atop her glove was a ten dollar gold piece. “If I pay half your fee, will you ride for best all-around? Will you ride for the cattle?”

Rowdy frowned. “Why would you loan me money? If I win, I might be beating one of the captain’s cowhands. Your father, like most ranchers, want men riding for their brand to win these things. I don’t ride for any brand.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And I’m not loaning you the money. I’m buying into a partnership. If you win, you keep any prize money for any individual entries, but I get half the cattle.”

“But—”

“No questions. All I ask is that I’m your silent partner. No one can know of our bargain.”

“You’ve never even seen me ride.”

She didn’t answer, but pressed her lips together as if debating crying. He realized this meant a great deal to her. “I’ve never seen those wild horses buck, but I can tell you which will give you the winning ride.”

He raised one eyebrow studying her. He knew nothing about women, but he had a feeling this one was one of a kind.

“Are we partners or not?” She bit into her bottom lip and waited. “You’ve very little time left to register.”

He took the money. Her reasons were none of his business. “Silent partners, if that’s the way you want it, lady.”

“That’s the way I want it.”

Then the shy Miss Laurel did something he never expected.

She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Before he could react, she turned and ran. Her bonnet tumbled to her back as she ran.

“Brown,” he said, as if she were near enough to hear. “I knew your hair would still be light brown.”

He walked back slowly, turning the gold coin over and over in his hand. He’d ride and do his best. Not just for his start, but he had a feeling for hers as well.

Chapter 2

Laurel ran all the way back to her corner between the buildings and tried to slow her heart while she waited. From the shadows, she watched.

A few minutes passed before Rowdy Darnell stepped in front of the table and tossed down ten dollars in bills and her ten dollar gold piece. The boy she remembered was gone, replaced by a man, hard and lean.

She smiled remembering how kind he’d been to her, helping her down from the surrey and asking her to take a walk. Something no other man in town had ever done. He might look like a man most would fear to cross, but somewhere in the man still lived the boy this town had sacrificed so that none of their sons would go to jail.

Laurel waited for one of the men to recognize him, but none seemed to. Too many families had moved in and out in these parts.

Jeffery Filmore, one of the town’s junior bankers, fingered the money. “Mighty lot of money to toss away if you’re no good.”

“I’m good,” Rowdy answered without a hint of brag in his tone.

The banker snuffed. “Might be, might not be. That’s what we’re here to find out.” He shoved a chart toward Rowdy. “List your name and check every event you’re planning on entering. You got to enter at least three of the four to have a shot at the big prize.”

Rowdy wrote his name and drew a line across all the squares.

The banker raised an eyebrow. “You planning on trying them all.”

“I am.”

Filmore shook his head. “Most cowhands sit out one or two that they don’t think they can place in. It’ll give you time to rest and lessen the chances you get busted up on something you don’t have a chance of winning.”

Rowdy took the number off the top of the pile. “I’ve spent enough time resting and I figure I got a chance at them all. You got an objection?”

Filmore stared at him a moment, then backed down. “No, none at all.”

Rowdy turned and walked back toward the livery. He never glanced at the alley shadows, but Laurel had a feeling he knew she was watching him.

She let out a long-held breath. He was registered. She’d been waiting for two years for this chance. If he won, she’d have enough money to run.

When she’d finished school she’d had offers to go to work in Houston and Austin, but her father had insisted she come home to straighten out his books. Three months later, when she had them in good order, she found her small inheritance from her mother had vanished. Her father made sure she had no money to leave. He wanted her to work for him and remain home under his control. Now, after two years, she saw a way out.