The Texan's Bride (11 page)

“He must be a saint,” John replied, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a white napkin. “’Twas the damnedest thing I ever saw, the carpenters and such a’ridin’ up like they did. Just set to building with nary a word. Picked the spot and everything.”

Branch licked his lips, then winked at Katie after swallowing a particularly succulent bite of meat. “In town they’re saying Trahern’s your new partner. How did you come to know the man?”

Daniel chimed in, “That’s the damnedest thing about it.”

“Daniel Benjamin Gallagher!” Katie warned.

He rolled his eyes. “That’s the
darndest
thing about it. We can’t remember. Supposedly, he stayed here a couple years back and he and Da shared a bit of the Irish.”

“Just a wee bit, I’m sure,” John added, frowning.

Even Katie smiled at that. Daniel continued his story. “Anyway, Mr. Trahern has enough money to choke a horse, and he was traveling through Nacogdoches when he heard about the fire. He remembered Da’s hospitality, so he hired the men and bought the materials and sent them our way, asking only that we pay him back out of the profits from the inn.” Daniel turned to Katie. “Is there a saint named Finian?”

Katie very carefully sliced her turkey into tiny pieces. Absently, she nodded. “Fifth or sixth-century Ireland. St. Patrick’s successor.”

“Maybe our Finian’s not a saint; maybe he’s a leprechaun. What do you think. Da?”

John made a show of pondering the question. “Well, son, you may be right. Mayhap I found a pot-o’-gold and never knew it. What are you thinking, Katie-love?”

“I’m thinking I’d feel much better had we met the man. What sort of person makes this type of arrangement with strangers? It makes no sense. It worries me.”

Branch asked casually, “Did you sign anything?”

“Yes,” John answered. “He sent a contract through an attorney. A straightforward agreement it was. Katie, you read it, you needn’t be so fretful. ’Twasn’t charity—after all, I wouldn’t be taking charity. Trahern’ll earn a good profit from this deal.”

Katie shrugged as she passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to their dinner guest. “I just wish I could remember him. Tell me, Branch. Why would Finian Trahern help the Gallaghers?”

Branch took his third helping of potatoes and passed the bowl to Daniel. He stared solemnly at Katie and answered, “Maybe when he was here, you helped him in some way. Maybe his money is all he is able to offer in return.”

“You think so?”

He nodded brusquely and returned his attention to his plate. The way he pushed the food around gave Katie cause to wonder if she’d missed something in the exchange.
No
, she told herself,
he’s just full, finally
.

Frowning slightly, she said, “I’ve molasses cookies for dessert if anyone cares for some.”

Three male faces beamed at her.

CROUCHING IN the shadows of the forest as the last red tints of sundown flame edged the sky, a man continued his vigil on the Gallagher homestead. Since his arrival earlier that afternoon, he’d watched and speculated at the activity he beheld. Soon now he would ask his questions and hear the answers he’d traveled so far to find.

Illuminated by the frosted light of the rising moon, a bead of nervous sweat dripped down his temple and fell onto his bare shoulder. He’d shed his traveling costume soon after leaving the more populated lands around Nacogdoches. Now he wore the clothing of his youth. Dangerous, certainly, to dress as such in East Texas, but the declaration came from within. Even the weather conspired with his soul, a pleasing change from the bitter north.

During the long afternoon he’d witnessed the commotion as the laborers put finishing touches on the new structure and departed. He’d wondered as one stranger remained behind, his familiarity with Kathleen obvious and troubling.

Nighttime had arrived. Soon he’d have his answers.

But would he have the help he so desperately needed?

THE AROMA of roasted turkey lingered in the air as Branch sat at the kitchen table and brooded, staring at Katie.
Damn, she’s beautiful tonight
, he thought.

Weariness from the day’s hard work had drained the color from her cheeks, and her mahogany hair fell across her shoulders like a warm tear. Sitting in the rocking chair carding cotton, she reminded him of a porcelain doll. All she needed was a ruffled silk dress and a parasol.

Or maybe a ruffled corset and silk stockings.

“Damn!” He rose from his seat and walked to the window. Outside, a full moon and countless stars bathed the yard in a silvery glow. He could almost see her out there with moonlight melting over her creamy skin, the plump white globes of her breasts, their tips erect and straining…

Branch thumped his forehead against the log wall. It was a good thing he was only staying overnight. This place and the people in it were making him as crazy as a loco’d calf.

His dinner rested in his gut like grapeshot. Uneased lust for Katie plus all that talk about the mythical Mr. Trahern plain didn’t make for good digestion. When in the hell had it begun to bother him to lie?

He never should have come here today, but he’d let his curiosity get the better of him. He’d wanted to see the inn he’d bought for them; he’d wanted to see their reaction. One thing he knew without a doubt, the money had been well spent. “Finally something good comes of Hoss Garrett’s riches.”

“What’s that, son?” John asked from his seat before the hearth, occupied with his evening ritual of filling his pipe with the woodsy-scented tobacco he smoked every evening.

“Nothing, just thinking about town.”

“Been meaning to ask, how’s the new job suitin’ you?”

Branch looked over his shoulder. “Fine. Nacogdoches is a friendly place, and I like Sheriff Strickland. He seems to be a good man, and he cares about the town.”

Katie glanced up from her work, her eyes wide and innocent. “I guess hunting men is more exciting than tracking food for the table?”

Daniel answered, “Of course it is, Katie. The only thing that shot back at him when he was workin’ for us was a skunk.” At that Daniel and Katie shared a look that set his blood to boiling. Smart-aleck pair—someone should take a switch to their behinds.

A vision of his hand cupping Katie Starr’s bare bottom beneath the moonlight burst upon his mind.

He turned away from the window and returned to his seat. He picked up the week-old newspaper from the table and pretended to read. He should have headed back to town straight after supper. Instead he’d let Daniel’s beagle pup eyes and John’s hound-dog face persuade him to hang around long enough to help move a few things in the morning.

Stupid move, Kincaid
. She’d goaded him into it, acting like she didn’t care one way or the other. The ornery little witch, she’d chatted all the way through the dish washing, happy as a two-tailed puppy. She’d thanked him for bringing the meat for dinner, then yammered on and on about her plans for reopening the inn. Even now she was humming a happy little tune in rhythm with the brush of the cards.

She was putting on, he knew it. He bothered her every bit as much as she plagued him. He was tempted to hang around a little longer, just to put a hitch in her gitalong. But one day away from town was all he could afford right now.

In the past few weeks he’d managed to learn the names of a dozen Regulators; he was slowly working his way into their trust. Soon he hoped to learn the identity of the man with whom he’d bargained the night of the fire.

He had a hunch that man had information Branch could use. After all, a fellow willing to beat an old man, whip a young boy, and take phony money in exchange for gun hands wouldn’t hesitate at murdering a government agent—or inform on the one who had.

That’s what his presence in East Texas was all about. He was here to do a job—to find his brother’s killer. The little interlude with Katie had been pleasurable, but it was over now. He had to put a stop to the meanderings of his mind. He had to quit thinking about her at inappropriate times, like when he rode a Regulator raid or ate breakfast at the boardinghouse where he roomed. He had to stop the dreams that haunted the dark of his nights when he’d wake up aching and hard with a blue-eyed wraith lying beside him.

He turned away from the window and ambled over to her worktable. He sat on it—something he knew she hated—and swung his legs back and forth while he watched her and thought,
Course, I’ll always wonder what it would have been like to scratch the itch that was Katie Starr. Damn, but I hate to leave a job undone
. His gaze fastened on that fabulous bosom that had attracted his attention from the start. Maybe when this was all over, he could breeze back by Gallagher’s on his way to Riverrun and provoke just one more battle in their little war.

Katie bent to take more cotton from the basket at her feet, and he caught a glimpse of her breasts.

Yes, the idea definitely had merit. He reached for a leftover cornbread muffin and, popping it into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. He had to go. Wandering around like a pony with the bridle off didn’t get a man to the end of the trail. But nothing said he couldn’t follow the same path on his way home.

Feeling measurably better, he swallowed the bread, licked his lips, and grinned. Katie was watching him. She didn’t look as happy as before. Branch nodded to her and said, “Nothin’ like good home cookin’ to comfort a man, Miz Kate.” He bit into another muffin.

She carded cotton furiously. “Jeez, Katie,” Daniel said, “at that rate you’ll be through the entire harvest before Christmas.”

Branch choked back a laugh and searched the room for a deck of playing cards. Whistling his hymn, he took a seat at the table and dealt a game of solitaire.

Just a temporary ceasefire, Sprite
. The war would be won, the shrew tamed, and then the conquering hero would go home. It was a right fine plan. The room fell quiet except for Branch’s low whistle, the squeak of Katie’s rocker, and the rustle of paper as Daniel turned the pages of a battered schoolbook.

The mournful wail of a screech owl cut through the night, and all four of the occupants of Katie’s kitchen jumped.

With widening eyes, Branch watched the Gallaghers react to the sound. John’s head snapped around at the noise while Daniel scrambled to his feet and asked in a querulous voice, “Da?”

Katie sat stiff as a three-day corpse, her eyes fixed and glazed. Branch jerked to his feet, intent upon going to her, when the sound came again. “Ooo…” It sent shivers up his spine.

His chin dropped in amazement when John’s face lit with a smile, and Katie threw the cotton cards to the floor and dashed outside.

“Da, it is him!” Daniel rose as though to follow his sister, but John held up his hand.

“No, son, let them have a moment to themselves,” Gallagher instructed.

Well, hell
. Branch didn’t like the sound of that. He turned and looked through the open window just in time to see Katie fly into the embrace of a near-naked man.

The visitor lifted her at the waist, twirling her around, and she covered his face with kisses. When her joyous laughter danced across the night, the stars seemed to flare in response.

Branch worked to swallow the lump that blocked his throat. Cornbread must be caught, he absently thought. Through hooded eyes he watched the tall figure wrap Katie in his arms and merge the two outlines to one.

“Well, sonofabitch.” Only his pride kept him from tearing through the window and forcing the lovers apart. With fists clenched, a muscle twitching above his jaw, he waited.

The silhouette separated. Katie pulled the man’s arm, dragging him toward the kitchen. Then he said something and motioned sharply in Branch’s direction.

Both Katie and the stranger halted, and she glanced anxiously at Branch. The night obscured the man’s features as he looked Branch’s way. Words tumbled from Katie’s lips, and although he couldn’t see it, Branch felt the intensity of the stranger’s gaze. Branch answered the unspoken challenge with a hard stare of his own.

Finally Katie raised both her voice and her fist and delivered a loud, frustrated declaration punctuated by a futile punch to her companion’s stomach. “Trust me, you stubborn Cherokee!”

Indian? He’s an Indian? Well, that explained the breechclout. It also meant this freehanded fella wasn’t her beloved Steven.
Wait just a minute
! If this wasn’t her husband risen from the dead, then who the hell was he?

Branch didn’t get much of a chance to ponder the question; the Indian’s reaction to Katie’s jab stole his attention. The devil laughed uproariously. He bent down, scooped her up, and threw her over his shoulder. With one quick slap to her bottom, he carried her boldly into the woods.

The ladder-back chair that stood between Branch and the door hit the floor with a bang. John reached the portal first and planted himself firmly in the middle, arms crossed, facing inside. “Whoa there, boy. Settle yourself down.”

Branch exploded. “What the hell are you doing, Irishman? That Indian bastard is stealing your daughter!”

Gallagher’s reply hit him like a Mexican cannonball. “Shaddoe isn’t stealing Katie. He loves her.” John shook his head. “And weren’t we thinking he’d died in the Cherokee War? Sure that me girl nearly cried herself dry over it. A miracle, that’s what it is, a holy miracle.”

He motioned to Daniel. “Get the playing cards, son. Let’s have a game of euchre, what do you say?” He all but dragged Branch back to the table, where Daniel sat separating cards lower than seven from the deck. He dealt the thirty-two cards into three hands, but Branch just left his on the table. He stared out the window into the empty yard.
And don’t I just love a water-walking act
?

“SHADDOE, YOU put me down this instant!” Katie said, sputtering with laughter.

“I think not, woman with the feather fist.” Shaddoe chuckled as he marched toward the river. He pulled off her shoes and proceeded to tickle her feet while continuing in a stern voice. “Once again you have dared to strike the fierce warrior. Dances In The Night, and you shall be dealt the traditional punishment.”