Texas Homecoming (13 page)

“They may
want
me, but they won’t marry me.”

Cade felt her statement as an accusation against him. “Everything will be different after Laveau comes home. You’ll see; everything will be like it was before.” He didn’t know why he was saying those things. After he hanged Laveau, nothing would ever be the same again.

“But when is he coming home?” Pilar asked. “Every day I hope for a letter, but nothing comes.”

“He’ll write you soon. I’m sure of it.”

She had stepped farther away from him, as if increasing the distance would disavow the emotion she’d revealed in a moment of weakness. “Where can I go until then? I can’t face your grandfather.”

“Of course you can. Give him the rough side of your tongue like you always do.”

“I can’t—”

“You’ve survived far worse than my grandfather’s ill humor. You’re stronger than he is.”

It wasn’t easy to read her expression in the twilight, but he had no difficulty seeing that she regarded him with a kind of disbelief. “Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I learned a bitter lesson during the war. Life is short. Sometimes cruelly so. We don’t have time for pretense. My grandfather and your grandmother have an argument they will never settle, but that doesn’t involve you and me. We’re in each other’s debt, but my debt is far greater than yours.”

“Why are you being so generous?”

She had recovered from her moment of weakness. She
didn’t sound helpless or afraid. She sounded suspicious. Was he doing all of this simply to gain information? He didn’t want to ask himself that question. It had been just a few hours since he’d assured his friends he had no other purpose in pretending to be interested in Pilar. And he had meant it, hadn’t he?

He didn’t know anymore. His original goal hadn’t changed, but his feelings for Pilar had. No man could be around her and not fall under her spell.

“I’m not being generous, just facing facts. That’s something else I learned in the war. Fooling yourself just gets people hurt.”

“Did everybody come out of the war as wise as you?”

He laughed. “My grandfather thinks I’m a fool.”

“Your grandfather is afraid. He knows his time is past.”

Cade knew that, and he felt guilty, but his grandfather still thought of Texas as an empty, lawless place to be claimed by the strongest. That was still true in some places, but more and more wealth and success would come to the man who knew how to use the laws to make the most of the natural resources. And the most plentiful natural resource was cattle.

“And your grandmother can’t understand that the days of the Spanish aristocrat are past.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Continue to round up and brand cows. You’re going to wait for Laveau.”

She seemed disappointed with his answer. It didn’t satisfy him, either. Laveau’s return would mean that Pilar would leave their ranch. Hanging Laveau would mean he’d never see her again.

Pilar sighed. “I’d better go back inside. They’ll have finished eating by now.”

He reached out and took her by the hand when she started to walk past him. “You don’t have to. We can hire someone else.”

“I have to work for our living. In spite of your grandfather, this is the best situation I could hope for.”

The fact that what she said was probably true made him feel even worse. He ought to do something, but he didn’t want her to leave. The present situation was perfect for him. He couldn’t achieve his objective if she left.

“I’ll talk to him,” Cade said.

“Don’t bother. I don’t know what got into me tonight, but I’m all right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“You would take my side against your grandfather?”

“It’s not a matter of taking sides. It’s being fair.”

That was true in one sense, but it was a lie in another. A necessary lie if he was to achieve his goal—punishing a man who’d been responsible for the deaths of two dozen innocent men. That justified anything he did.

That rationale didn’t satisfy him as it once had. Intellectually he still believed it. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. His men had been betrayed by one of their own. Every law of civilization said he had the right to bring that man to justice. In another corner of his soul he knew he was lying to himself, but he refused to listen. He had many more strident voices demanding his attention. Maybe after they hanged Laveau …

“Did you ever think of going somewhere else?” Pilar asked. “Did you ever want to be something besides a rancher?”

No one had ever asked him that question. He hadn’t asked it of himself. “Texas is my home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“But you’re a natural leader. Men follow you anywhere. You could have done practically anything.”

Odd he’d never considered himself a leader. He’d just done what needed to be done. And he’d always wanted to come home. Much to his surprise, he realized that Pilar had always been part of that vision. Not as his wife, but she’d always been there. Tantalizing. Tempting.

“Your grandmother will tell you that being a leader involves a certain amount of willingness to court danger. I’ve had enough of that. I want something more solid now. Glory turned out to be very hollow.”

“Did losing the war hurt that much?”

“The loss of my men hurt more.” He wouldn’t explain if she asked; she might figure out what he was doing. “It’s time to go back inside. Hold your head up high, stick your chin out. Gramps likes to pinch and poke at everybody around him, but he respects anyone who has the gumption to poke right back.”

“Then he ought to respect me.”

“He does. We all do.”

But what he felt was much more than respect. The extent of it frightened him. “I want you to make a list of everything you need before you go to bed tonight.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to town tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Are the women in San Antonio friendly?” Owen asked Cade.

“Women are always friendly to a handsome rogue like you.”

“Good. Tell me where I can meet you when it’s time to return.”

“You aren’t going with us?” Broc asked.

“You don’t need me to decide on bullets and flour. And I
do
need to see something besides your ugly faces. Not that your face is ugly,” Owen said, flashing his patented smile at Pilar, “but I’m in the mood for some dancing. And maybe a little moonlight.”

“And a lot of mayhem,” Holt said.

“If I’m lucky,” Owen said.

Pilar thought his laugh was almost relaxed and natural. He was a strange man, driven by some inner demon she didn’t understand. But she didn’t want to ruin this day by trying to make sense of Owen’s moods. She was so excited,
she could barely sit still. After two years of being stuck on a ranch, she was going to town. She would see people, new clothes, maybe even hear some music.

They reached the town at sunset from the south along the mission trail. She’d wanted to stop at one of the missions to offer a prayer for Laveau’s safe return, but Cade said they could stop on their way home. When they came to one of the irrigation canals the priests had built a hundred years ago, Ivan said he would build a better one at the ranch. Cade said he wanted a windmill but didn’t have the money for the equipment.

The sight of limestone buildings, wide streets, buggies, wagons, and carriages added to Pilar’s excitement. She felt as though she were waking out of a kind of trance that she’d been in ever since the war started. San Antonio looked alive, happy, and colorful. She felt better just being there. Some buildings of stone and iron rose as much as four stories above the ground. She couldn’t imagine going inside. She was certain she’d be dizzy just knowing she was at such a height.

“What do you want to do?” Cade asked her.

“Go shopping.” She’d just look. Nobody had to tell her she didn’t have money to buy anything.

“Do you have any friends you want to visit?”

“Maybe next time.”

She had no friends. Since her family, at her grandmother’s insistence, had sided with Mexico in both Texas wars, they were disliked and distrusted by everyone.

“They don’t have much in the windows to tempt you,” Broc observed.

“I guess they’re still getting over the blockade,” Cade said.

“What blockade?” she asked.

“Union ships blockaded Confederate ports to keep them from shipping cotton to England,” Cade said.

“They tried to stop commerce altogether,” Broc said.

Everything looked new to Pilar.

“I was wondering if the Union soldiers had reached San Antonio,” Cade said.

“I guess you’ve got your answer,” Broc said.

Pilar turned to see a group of several men in blue uniforms walking in a loose group along the other side of the street.

“It’s a good thing we’re not wearing our uniforms,” Nate said. “They’d probably arrest us on sight.”

“They can’t arrest every man who fought in the war.”

“No, but they can arrest us if we give them the slightest pretext.”

But Pilar wasn’t thinking about arrests. The soldiers might be able to tell her something about Laveau. She opened her mouth to ask Cade to stop, then closed it. She was certain none of the men would be happy that she wanted to talk to Union soldiers. If nothing else, it would bring them attention they didn’t want. She decided to wait for a chance to speak to the soldiers alone.

They found a room for Pilar in a modest hotel on the edge of the business district. The men decided to sleep outside of town to save money.

“I haven’t slept in a bed in so long, I’m still not used to the bunkhouse,” Nate said.

Pilar felt guilty for having to spend money so she could spend the night in a hotel. “Consider this your reward for faithful service,” Cade said.

Everybody except Cade went off to find some “entertainment” for the evening.

“You’re the designated chaperon,” Broc said. “You always
said a good leader should take the jobs nobody else wants.”

Pilar felt sorry for Cade. He couldn’t say he didn’t want to spend his evening entertaining her without being unpardonably rude.

“I prefer Pilar’s company to yours,” Cade said good-naturedly. “At least I won’t have to put her to bed drunk.”

“I’m going to bed early,” she said. “I plan to go into every store in town tomorrow. It’s been years since I’ve seen a new dress or a bolt of cloth.”

The men wandered away, all wondering aloud how a woman could spend a whole day just looking. By the time Pilar got settled in her room, it was almost time for dinner. Cade didn’t act as if they were doing anything out of the ordinary, but Pilar bubbled with excitement. She was having dinner alone with Cade, a meal she didn’t have to prepare, serve, or clear away. It was almost like a romantic assignation.

She told herself not to be foolish. Cade had only brought her because he needed her help to buy supplies. But when she descended the stairs and found him waiting for her, she felt anything but ordinary. She saw in this man the embodiment of just about everything she wanted in a husband. She hadn’t known what that was until now because she’d always expected to marry Manuel, so there’d been no point in thinking about what she could never have.

“They’re having some kind of festival tonight,” Cade said. “Would you like to go after we eat?”

Music! Dancing! Laughter! Pilar thought her heart would burst with anticipation.

“Where do you want to eat?” Cade asked.

“I don’t care as long as it’s not beans and bacon.”

Cade found a tiny restaurant that served French food
exactly like her family used to have. “How did you know what I wanted?” she asked.

“I thought you might miss some of the things you used to have.”

Manuel wouldn’t have considered what she wanted. She’d come to expect Cade to be more thoughtful than the men in her family, but the variety and depth of his thoughtfulness continued to surprise her.

But nothing surprised her as much as his choice of the correct wine to go with the meal.

“I learned in Virginia,” he said, aware of what she wanted to know but didn’t dare ask. “We spent a winter working out of one area. The local gentlemen insisted that I dine at their homes every night. We protected them from attack. They considered it repayment.”

Over dinner she encouraged him to talk about the war, about the years that changed the wild boy she had known into the responsible adult. Even though she asked, he wouldn’t tell her anything about Laveau. She sensed his anger. She supposed she couldn’t expect anything else. Her grandmother might think Laveau was wise to change sides, but she had an uneasy feeling it showed a lack of character.

But what could a man do when the government didn’t protect his property?

She couldn’t answer that question.

“Are you ready to go to the festival?” Cade asked.

The meal had gone by too quickly. Even though worry continued to buzz in the back of her consciousness, she had enjoyed listening to Cade’s stories about the people he’d fought alongside. She felt she knew the six men who’d come to help him a little better now. “I haven’t been to a party or danced and laughed in so long, I’ve almost forgotten how,” Pilar said.

“Then consider this a new beginning. I’ll make sure you have a chance to do all this again soon.”

Pilar refused to let herself speculate on what his statement could mean. She was certain that what he had in mind wasn’t at all what she was thinking. She didn’t ask. She wanted to pretend for just a little while.

It was easy to pretend she was with the man of her dreams. He had been charming, fun, and a pleasant companion. Even though other women had cast glances in his direction all evening, she’d been the sole focus of his attention. That made her feel important, pretty, desired. She was certain he’d rather be with his friends, yet he hadn’t shown any sign of irritation. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn he
wanted
to stay with her.

They walked side by side, talking easily until they reached a small plaza where a band played and people had gathered to sing and dance. Cade put his arm around Pilar’s waist to guide her through the press of people. She was certain it was an instinctive act, but it caused the tension in her body to increase tenfold, her awareness of his nearness to skyrocket. When he took her by the hand and guided her to an open spot, she felt a kind of closeness she’d never experienced before.

A small band of six people—two trumpets, two guitars, and two women who sang and played the castanets and maracas—played a familiar tune. It made her think of a time when she was innocent of all the dangers that lay just beyond the hacienda walls.

She started to hum the tune, then sang the words softly. Cade joined in.

“You know this song?” she asked, surprised.

“I used to go to every fiesta I could find,” he said, his face appearing wonderfully different in the flickering light
of the torches scattered round the plaza. “I considered myself a great Lothario, irresistible to women.”

She imagined he had been. Some of the couples started dancing to the energetic rhythm of the song. The music was infectious, and Pilar’s foot started tapping. Within moments she was swaying to the rhythm.

“Do you want to dance?” Cade asked.

If she’d been surprised he could sing, she was stunned he could dance.

“You can’t be a successful Lothario unless you can dance,” he said, his eyes dancing with laughter. “All the senoritas expect it.”

“And do you always try to fulfill a senorita’s expectations?”

“Whenever I can.”

She couldn’t believe how flirtatious she sounded, but something inside her had burst loose. Maybe it was relief from four years of worry and fear. Maybe it was the natural reaction of a young woman in the company of a handsome young man. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to have a little fun while the opportunity lasted. She didn’t waste time trying to validate the impulse. She would behave tomorrow. She wanted to enjoy herself tonight.

“Can you teach me this dance?” she asked. “Grandmother disapproved of dancing.”

Cade pulled her into the open.

“Not where everybody can see me.”

“They won’t pay us any attention. Just do what I do.”

He demonstrated one four-beat pattern. She copied it. He demonstrated another. She copied that, then put them together. The steps weren’t difficult to do, but as Cade added more, the sequence got harder to remember. She
concentrated so hard, she was unaware of her surroundings until Cade started to chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, looking up slightly irritated. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said. “I’m laughing at them.”

Following his gaze, Pilar discovered they were surrounded by a cordon of interested spectators encouraging her with smiles and occasional supplements to Cade’s instructions.

“They’re rooting for you. Come on, show them what you’ve learned.”

Some strange demon must have taken over her body. She opened her mouth to say she wanted to go back to the hotel, but the only word that came out was, “Okay.”

Even the band appeared to have taken an interest in her progress. They started the next song slowly. When it became clear that Pilar had mastered the steps, they picked up the tempo. Other couples joined in until the plaza was filled with couples whirling, shouting, and encouraging each other. The music built until it came to a climax that left everyone breathless.

“I’ve got to sit down,” Pilar said as she clung to Cade. He didn’t act winded. Apparently wrestling full-grown cows to the ground was good conditioning for dancing. Cooking and washing dishes wasn’t.

Cade led her to a bench under a tree. “I’ll find us something to drink.” Moments later he handed her a richly colored red drink.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know, but the woman who made it said it would give you energy to dance all night.”

Considering the way she felt, Pilar doubted that. The
drink, a medley of fruit flavors, was delicious.

“Don’t drink it too fast,” Cade warned. “I’m sure they put something alcoholic in it. I don’t want anybody saying I tried to get you drunk.”

“I’ve drunk wine all my life,” Pilar said.

“Just take it easy. Fruit juices can disguise practically anything. I expect it’s made with tequila instead of wine.”

Pilar had never had tequila. Her grandmother said it was a drink for common people. “Is anybody else drinking tequila?”

“I imagine everybody is.”

Nobody around her seemed drunk. They were all talking, dancing, laughing, and having fun. If it didn’t bother them, it wouldn’t bother her. “I’ll be careful, but it’s very good. What are you drinking?”

“Beer.”

Laveau had let her taste his beer years ago. She thought it was awful. She was glad Cade had brought her the fruit drink even if it did contain tequila. The music started again, but this time the tune was slow and mournful. Pilar looked to see what steps the dancers were using, only to find it didn’t seem to matter. That the men held the women in their arms seemed much more important.

“Are you rested?” Cade asked.

Immediately her heart started to hammer in her chest. She’d never danced like that with a man. French dances were all pattern dances with couples doing little more than touching hands. The Spanish dances her grandmother approved were even more formal. A married woman could go through an entire evening and barely touch her husband’s hand. Unmarried women had been known to quiver and quake from fear of any contact.

But none of the women here tonight appeared the least
bit upset by being held close. Rather, they seemed quite pleased. Pilar took a swallow of her drink. “I’m ready.”

She wasn’t, but a diViere never admitted fear. And of course all Cordobas reaching back into the mists of time had been fearless warriors. Pilar wondered what unacknowledged ancestor she could blame for her shaking knees.

They shook even more when Cade pulled her into what could only be described as an embrace. He didn’t force her, just gently guided her into the crook of his arm. A big, strong arm that wrapped around her with the solidity of stone. She knew without asking that he would be here tomorrow, the day after, and all the days after that.