Texas Homecoming (11 page)

“What?”

“I don’t know, but that’s another reason I have to keep close to him.”

“Do you think they mean to hurt Laveau?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t like his changing sides.”

“Cade Wheeler has always hated my grandson.”

“You forget they fought together.”

“War changes nothing. We will always hate each other.”

But Pilar didn’t hate Cade. In fact, she was realizing more and more that her feelings were of a quite different nature.

Cade didn’t like the silence that hung over the ranch like an ominous threat. Even the birds had fallen silent. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed toward the bunkhouse. He ought to be out there with his men, but he couldn’t leave the ranch house undefended.

He was convinced this was an attack of some kind, but couldn’t decide whether the objective was the ranch buildings, the women, or the herd. There was nothing in the buildings that hadn’t been there for the last four years. Why wait until it was defended by six extra men? The same
was true of the women. And if they’d been after the herd—to rustle or scatter it—why wait until most of the cows had been turned back onto the range?

He entered the bunkhouse and took down his rifle. As he let his hands run over it, he was flooded with memories of the war, of depending on his wits more than his weapons. But his wits hadn’t been proof against Laveau’s treachery. He’d asked his commanding officer not to assign Laveau to their troop, but they needed expert riders. He’d watched Laveau closely at first, questioning every move, every statement. But after two years, with the battles becoming more desperate, he’d had less time and attention to give Laveau.

That had been his fatal mistake, and two-thirds of his troop had died because of it.

He couldn’t discount the possibility that Laveau might be behind the attack, but he wouldn’t want to attack the ranch while his mother and sister were still here. He’d wait until they’d left.

I don’t want Pilar to leave.

Cade couldn’t decide whether he’d spoken the words aloud or merely thought them, but they sounded in his brain with the impact of a shout. There could be no doubt. He didn’t want Pilar to leave the ranch. It had nothing to do with her cooking. Well, not much. He would miss her. And he couldn’t deny the physical attraction he felt for her.

That was normal. Expected. She was a beautiful, desirable woman, and he was a normal adult male with normal appetites, none of which were being satisfied. He imagined all of the men had dreamed of her on more than one occasion.

To his surprise, that made him angry. He didn’t want
anybody dreaming of her in that way. He was the only one allowed to think of her as a desirable woman who might have the same physical appetites he did, who might be just as anxious to relieve a need growing more insistent each day.

Cade reined in his thoughts. He had enough on his mind without worrying about rampaging lust. If he allowed himself to start thinking of ways to seduce her, he wouldn’t be giving the proper attention to his objective of capturing her brother. Besides, it would violate his own personal code. He could become friendly, gain her confidence, encourage her to confide in him, and then seize her brother, but he could not do her any permanent damage.

Cade reached for a box of shells, started putting them into his Spencer rifle, a trophy he’d captured from a Union supply train. He was counting on this rifle to help him defend his land. He didn’t have as many men as the scavengers, but he hoped that being better armed would give him an advantage. But they would need more ammunition.

He emerged from the bunkhouse. The silence remained oppressive. Why hadn’t at least one of the men come back? He didn’t like being left out of the action. He liked being in the middle of whatever was happening.

The faint clink of metal on stone caught his ear. Someone on horseback was out there. He strained his ears, waiting for another sound, anything to give him a more accurate idea of the direction of the sound. South Texas had enough trees and thorny shrubs to provide cover for anyone wishing to approach the ranch unseen.

He caught a brief glimpse of a horse’s ears. The rider had dismounted a couple of hundred yards away from the trail, was leading his horse in. Whoever was coming didn’t appear to expect trouble. The horse, a big black animal, approached
at a steady pace. Something about those big, mule-like ears seemed familiar. Almost immediately the picture connected with a memory in his brain, and Cade stepped away from the bunkhouse, raised his rifle, and took careful aim.

Chapter Eleven

“Come from behind that tree, or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

The branches of a post oak quivered, the black mule-like ears appeared, but no man came into sight.

“This is my last warning,” Cade said. The click of the rifle hammer sounded loud in the silence.

“This is a damned poor way to welcome a fella who’s come to sponge off you as long as he can.” A tall, lanky man with a narrow face, piercing blue eyes, and lank brown hair stepped into the open, his black horse following more than twenty yards behind. “And me expecting a band and a couple of dancing girls to make me feel welcome.”

Cade lowered his rifle and grinned broadly at Nate Dolan, a skinny razorback from Arkansas. “You old coon dog. You probably fired those shots yourself just to get everybody in a lather.”

“Wish I’d thought of it,” Nate said, taking his friend’s hand into his powerful grip and giving it an enthusiastic
shake. “Somebody else thought of it for me. Caught them sneaking along one of those dry creek beds. I figured they were up to no good so I took a shot at one of them just to shake him up a mite. Must have done more than that. They started shooting at everything in sight before hightailing it out. I decided to come in sorta quiet like in case Rafe’s about. Anybody showed up yet?”

“Rafe, Ivan, Owen, Holt, and Broc are out there looking for you right now.”

Nate grinned broadly. “I always said an Arkansas coon hunter could get past anybody born east of the Mississippi.”

Cade noticed Pilar looking though the window. “Let me introduce you to the woman who does the cooking and tries to make us take a bath more than once a week.”

“What is she, some sort of fanatic?”

“Just has a highly developed sense of smell.”

Nate laughed. “Poor woman. Must have been hell growing up on a dirt-poor ranch like this.”

“She didn’t. She grew up in a large hacienda with servants. She’s here because squatters overran her place.”

“She the one at the window?”

“Yes.”

“How do I send thanks to the squatters? Is she married? Anybody staked a claim on her?”

“She’s Laveau’s sister.”

Nate’s attitude changed so dramatically, he looked like a different person. His eyes became hard as granite. His mouth pressed into a hard knot. His shoulders drooped slightly and his hair seemed to cover his face. “Where is the son of a bitch?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t know what he did, so pretend nothing is wrong.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“The same way the rest of us do.”

Pain filled Nate’s eyes, twisted his handsome features. Cade was certain that not even hanging Laveau would relieve Nate of the guilt, grief, and anger that tortured him.

“The rest of you don’t have to explain to your mother and sisters how you let their son and adored little brother get killed while you, their not so adored big brother, didn’t get a scratch.”

Cade was relieved to see the other men returning. Nate would soon be engulfed in a rough but hearty welcome that would brush aside some of the bitterness.

The greeting ritual didn’t last long. Nate had hardly had time to shake hands with his old comrades before Owen turned to Cade. “Let’s go to the bunkhouse. We want to talk to you.”

“What did you find?” Cade asked.

“Just some tracks,” Owen replied. “Probably the same guy Broc saw that night.”

“Nate said he saw several men.”

“So the guy has friends. It doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

“It does matter. Who are they? Where did they come from? What were they doing here?”

“We’ll find out if they come back.”

This wasn’t like Owen. He liked fighting. He liked planning strategy. In fact, he would have stayed in the army if the Confederacy had won. Neither did Cade understand the sober, almost grim mood that had settled over his friends. Nate was one of the best-liked members of their old troop. They should have been laughing and enjoying themselves. Yet after a short greeting, all trooped to the bunkhouse without waiting for him to follow.

“What’s going on?” Nate asked as he fell in alongside Cade.

“I don’t know.”

“How’d you get those bruises on your face?”

In the confusion over the gunshots, Cade had temporarily forgotten the fight with Owen. “A difference of opinion over a woman.”

Nate nodded his head over his shoulder. “That woman?”

“She’s the only one here except her grandmother.”

“Owen?”

“Who else?”

“What about?”

“I expect I’m about to find out.”

The men gathered in the bunkhouse looked more like judges than friends. No one sat. Holt didn’t appear comfortable with the situation. Cade couldn’t read Rafe’s expression, but he had no difficulty telling that Owen, Broc, and Ivan were dead serious about something.

“What’s up?” Cade asked as casually as he could.

“We want to talk about Pilar,” Broc said.

“She’s doing about as much work as we can expect.”

“It’s not that,” Ivan said.

“Then what?”

“You’re going soft on her,” Owen said. “You’re supposed to pump her for information, not fall in love with her.”

Cade felt his tension ease. “I’m not in love with her.”

“You’re protecting her from me.”

“I doubt she’d be very cooperative if you seduced her.”

“She’s the enemy.”

“She’s also my neighbor.”

“She’ll get married and move away.”

“Not if you seduce her. Aristocrats are very particular about that,” Cade said.

“Why should you care?” Nate’s voice had lost the friendliness of moments before.

“It’s a matter of ethics. I can’t use Pilar without regard for what will happen to her.”

“Why not?” Owen asked. “Her brother used us.”

“He did much worse,” Nate said.

There was nothing Cade could say that would ease Nate’s pain, but he couldn’t let them punish Pilar for her brother’s treason. “Both sides fought the war for principles we believed in. They had our women behind their lines, and we had theirs. We fought like hell but we never took it out on innocent bystanders. If men in the midst of war, in the heat of battle, can remember that, we have no excuse for forgetting it in time of peace.”

“If you’re too gutless to do what has to be done, I’ll do it,” Owen said. “I—”

“No, Cade’s right,” Broc said.

“Her brother is a traitor,” Nate said, his voice raised to a shout.

“He’s still right,” Holt said.

“But if she’s withholding information—”

“She’s not,” Cade said. “She hasn’t heard from him.”

“How do you know?” Owen asked.

“She’s worried something might have happened to him. She knows that a lot of people might want to get back at him for changing sides during the war.”

“They’ll have to get in line,” Nate said.

“I doubt she’ll come running to me when the letter comes, but I can tell if she gets one.”

“I don’t see why we have to be so secretive about it,” Nate said. “We can all watch her.”

“We might know when she gets a letter, but that doesn’t mean she’ll tell us what’s in it.”

“We can take it from her.”

“You forget Pilar is living with us. If she wanted, she could become a spy in our midst.”

“We either have to trust Cade to gain her confidence or send her away,” Holt said.

“I say we send her away,” Nate said.

Cade felt his stomach clench. He couldn’t send Pilar away. If it came to a choice, he would make the men leave. Shock that he would even think of choosing Pilar over his friends shook Cade to his toes. What had come over him?

“We can’t afford to do that,” Cade pointed out. “If you want to know the grim truth, we are dependent on the sale of her jewelry for our supplies. Do any of you have money?”

Adding up all their resources, they had barely more than a hundred dollars among them.

“We need ammunition,” Cade said. “I think those people we keep seeing are squatters and they’re planning to attack us. We also need supplies for the cattle drive. It’s a long way to St. Louis.”

“When are we going?” Broc asked.

“As soon as we can get supplies.”

“But Texas is as brown as a berry.”

“We won’t take a large herd, but we’ve got to have some money now.”

“Have you thought of shipping them to New Orleans?” Owen asked.

“I’ll take them anywhere as long as I can get more than three dollars a head. I need to tell Pilar everyone is safe, that Nate was just trying to make a spectacular entrance.”

Cade didn’t wait for anyone to disagree. It had been all he could do to remain calm, to all outward appearances unruffled by their discussion. In truth, he was angry they would consider harming Pilar.

Owen was right to some extent. Cade was getting soft
on her, but not just because she was beautiful and seductive. Though no one but him seemed to realize it, she was a remarkable woman. Many Texas women had stepped into the traces after their husbands left for the war, women who had worked alongside their husbands, been bred to trouble and hard work. Pilar had been shielded from the knowledge that it took hard work to produce the wealth she took for granted. Yet she had learned the difference between earning money and spending it.

Everyone would have expected her to collapse into hysterics when the squatters drove her from her home. Instead, she’d gone to where she knew she’d be safe—even though she hated being there. She’d learned to cook and clean, things she’d never had to do in her life. Most remarkable, she hadn’t lost one bit of her dignity. The men might not understand what an amazing journey the last two years represented, but he did, and his respect for Pilar grew a little each day.

But his
liking
her seemed to be growing even more quickly. He couldn’t admit to himself that Owen might have understood more of what was happening between them than either he or Pilar. They’d hardly done more than brush against each other.

But he had held her hand earlier. He hadn’t been so worried about a possible attack that he hadn’t been affected by the feel of her fingers pressed into his own.

He’d better get himself under control. That wouldn’t be easy when he was supposed to give the impression he was falling for Pilar.
That
was getting easier every day.

“You must take the place of honor at our table,” Ivan said to Pilar’s grandmother.

Senora diViere had emerged from her bedroom looking
like a dowager Spanish queen. Dressed in black from her mantilla to her shoes, trailing a fortune in lace, and wearing all her remaining jewelry, she seemed jarringly out of place in the rustic kitchen.

Pilar was so tense, her nerves so on edge, she could hardly concentrate on her work. She would be greatly surprised if she didn’t burn something before she got supper on the table. Despite Pilar’s efforts to change her mind, her grandmother had decided to make her first appearance at the supper table. Ivan was trying to convince her to sit at the head of the table—in Earl’s place.

Pilar couldn’t imagine anything more certain to end in disaster.

“My grandmother doesn’t like to eat with strangers,” Pilar said. It was just like her grandmother to do the opposite of what Pilar wanted. “Besides, Earl Wheeler sits at the head of the table.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to vacate it for your grandmother,” Ivan said. “He must be aware of the honor bestowed on his table by her presence.”

Pilar wanted to shake him, tell him to stop remembering that he had grown up in a formal Polish court and realize he’d landed in the middle of southern Texas. Nobody here cared how many counts or princesses someone had in his pedigree. Most Texans didn’t know what a pedigree was and wouldn’t care if they did. What counted was how many cows you could put your brand on, how many sons you could father, how well you could fight, cuss, ride a horse, and throw a rope. If you could drink enough whiskey to make six ordinary men fall down drunk, you might be considered a real man.

“Earl Wheeler is a foul-tempered, sour-faced, mean-spirited, dried-up husk of a man,” Pilar said. “He doesn’t
even like his own grandson. You won’t be able to stop him from saying the most horrible things imaginable to my grandmother.”

“I’m sure your grandmother is too large-minded to pay attention to anything Mr. Wheeler might say,” Ivan said. “A woman such as your grandmother knows how to handle people like him.”

Pilar didn’t know anything about the Earl Wheeler types in Poland, but she was bone certain they had nothing in common with the Texas variety.

“Please have your dinner in your room as usual,” Pilar pleaded. “You can invite Ivan to join you.”

“I can’t dine with your grandmother in her private chamber,” Ivan said, as if Earl Wheeler’s ranch house were some sort of palace. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Neither is ruining supper for everyone,” Pilar said.

“You underestimate me,” her grandmother said, preening under Ivan’s adulation. “I am more than equal to Earl Wheeler.”

Pilar gave up arguing but made up her mind to warn Cade. She watched for him through the window. He always came in early to help set the table.

Something had been bothering him when he came to tell her of Nate’s arrival. He’d tried to shrug it off, said it had nothing to do with the shots, that it was something personal. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she didn’t feel she could push for an explanation. Their relationship had become much more friendly, more relaxed, but they hadn’t reached the point of sharing confidences, even minor ones.

Ivan said there was trouble in the bunkhouse, but he wouldn’t say any more. She couldn’t imagine what could have gone wrong.

“Was Cade telling the truth when he said we weren’t in danger of being attacked?” she asked Ivan.

“We do not know who Nate saw, but it was nobody to frighten you. They ran off when Nate shot at them.”

Pilar imagined that anybody would run away if someone started shooting at them. That didn’t mean they weren’t squatters or that they didn’t mean to attack the ranch at the first opportunity. Just thinking about it brought back memories of the horrors of the attacks on the hacienda.