Authors: Geralyn Dawson
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #A Historical Romance
The Texan's Bride (45 page)
He waited, but Branch remained silent. “Won’t you at least look at me?”
Slowly, Branch lowered the bowl. He swallowed hard, then turned and stared his father in the eye. “What do you want from me?” he asked quietly.
“I want you to come home. Bring your family and come live at Riverrun. Rob’s girls are home with us now, and Eleanor, well, I married her and she’s having a baby.” Hoss paused to let that sink in, then continued. “She’d like, we’d like the rest of our family with us.”
Branch tried to picture Eleanor and Hoss together. It made a certain kind of sense. “My wife is a convicted murderess living under a death sentence,” Branch said. “What’s the deal, Hoss, you got a sheriff waiting at the plantation ready to hang her from the nearest oak?”
“Aw, hell, you stubborn cuss.” Garrett whirled and went to his saddlebags that lay across the bed in the corner. Pulling out two sheets of paper, he stomped back over to Branch and shoved them beneath his nose.
Branch scanned the lines and his chin dropped in amazement. “Pardons? You got her pardoned?”
“Straight from the governor to you. For both the killing and the escape. You too. I wasn’t sure how much you had to do with her getting loose, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have it.”
Branch forgot the dishes and carried the documents with him to the rocking chair. Turning up the flame in the oil lamp, he sat and stared at them for a full minute. Then he raised his head and looked at his father. “Why?”
“It took losing just about everything for me to admit the truth. I know the story. I knew it then. Katie Starr only tried to help my boy. She was never responsible, only Jack Strickland. By the way, here’s something else you might be interested in.” He pulled a folded newspaper from his saddlebags and handed it to Branch. “Bottom right corner,” he said.
Branch read the headline.
County Judge ambushed near Shelbyville: Indians in East Texas
. He snapped his head up to look at his father before continuing to read. Judge Jack Strickland had been riding with two other men when he suddenly fell from the saddle. The other men dived for cover, and when no other attack was forthcoming, they returned to Strickland. He was dead when they turned him over. An arrow lay buried in his chest.
“Shaddoe,” Branch murmured.
Garrett shrugged. “Wasn’t me.”
Branch struggled with his thoughts, trying to figure a reason for his father’s actions. “If you didn’t hold Katie responsible, then why?”
Garrett sank onto the bed. He sat there and spat, “Because it was my fault he went into that cabin to begin with.”
Branch stared incredulously at his father. He felt he was looking at a stranger. Then something he never could have imagined happened. Tears began to fall from Hoss Garrett’s eyes.
“I know you didn’t start that fire. It was such a mess— all of them dead, your mama dead, I was crazy with grief. Rob had guilt written all over his face that night, but when I found you with the matches and you didn’t deny it, I lost all sense.”
He looked at Branch, the tears of sorrow and shame etching the wrinkles in his face. “You know, you were so much like me. From the day you were born, I felt something special for you. So I got angry when you let me down. Later when I came to my senses, I suspected the truth and I waited for one of you to let on about it. Neither of you ever did.” He shook his head wonderingly.
He was silent for a few moments before he continued. “Rob was always weak. You were younger than he and already twice the man at seven that he was at ten. I should have done something, and I didn’t. I thought the competition between you two would eventually harden him, make him into something.”
“Why did you send me away?”
“For him. I thought if you weren’t around, he’d work harder to make something of himself. He always competed with you, and he never could win.”
Hoss stared at Branch, his whole body shuddering in anguish. “I thought you could make it by yourself. Besides, every time I looked at you, I felt guilty for letting the charade continue. But I ended up killing one son and making the other hate me.”
“You didn’t kill Rob, Pa. That can be laid at Jack Strickland’s feet, and I’m sure the judgment he faced for it wasn’t pretty.”
Hoss slapped his hand against the wall. “It is my fault. If I’d made Rob admit what happened, he might have dealt with his guilt over the fire. I think that’s why he went after your Katie’s baby.”
“I do, too,” Branch said. “But that was his choice, Pa. His and no one else’s, not yours, not Katie’s, and not mine. His.”
Emotions were whirling inside Branch like a tornado. He didn’t know yet just what he felt about all of this, but he did state the one conclusion he’d drawn some time ago. He said, “Pa, I don’t think you should feel guilty. Katie’s told me what he said, how he looked before he died. I think he was glad he’d done what he did.”
Garrett swallowed. “Why?”
“He smiled, Pa. He looked to be at peace with himself.”
Garrett nodded as silent tears continued to coarse down his cheeks. “He didn’t die weak, did he son?”
Branch looked out the window where a lamp glowed in the bunkhouse. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. He walked over to the bed, sat beside his father, and put his arm around his shoulders. “No, Pa, he didn’t. Rob died a brave man.”
Together, they wept.
THE SUMMER sun rode at the eastern treetops as Hoss Garrett swung into his saddle. A bittersweet smile spread across his face as he turned to his family. Branch held a cane fishing pole in one hand and Johnny in the other, while Katie’s arms held the cooing bundle whose single tuft of blond hair stuck straight up.
Hoss said, “Would it do me any good to ask one more time?”
Katie and Branch both smiled and shook their heads. Branch drawled, “Now, Pa, there’s a road running between here and Brazoria. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had some visitors at Riverrun come Christmas.”
“Don’t expect me to quit askin’. I’ll probably send a pitifully lonely letter with Chase when he comes this way.” His horse whinnied as though in agreement.
“Why don’t you and Eleanor deliver it personally, Hoss?” Katie told him with a smile.
“That’s not a half-bad idea,” he said, nodding.
Branch stepped off the porch and held out his hand. “You’re welcome on the Double K any time, Pa. Remember that. And thank you for all you’ve done.”
Hoss shook his son’s hand. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me, Britt—uh, Branch, I mean. By the way, any chance you’ll change the name of your spread now that the Garrett name wouldn’t be so dangerous for you to use?”
Stepping away from the horse, Branch looked at Katie. She lifted her shoulders and grinned. Branch said, “We’ll think about it, Pa. My wife’s had so many names, maybe it’s getting to be time to change it again. We’ll let you know when we visit at Christmas.”
“Well, goodbye, son.”
“Goodbye, Pa.”
Hoss pulled the reins and turned his horse. They took a few strides before he yanked the mount to a halt and twisted around in his saddle toward Branch.
“Son?”
“Yeah, Pa?”
“I, um, y’all take care now.”
“Sure Pa, we will.” Branch paused significantly. “You too,
sir
.”
A beaming smile spread across Hoss Garrett’s visage as he kicked his horse into a run. Just how many years had it been since the boy had called him “sir?”
Long after his father had disappeared from sight, Branch stood staring at the horizon. Quietly, Katie slipped her hand into his. He heaved a sigh, gave her fingers a squeeze, then turned to her and asked, “You going fishing with us, Sprite?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve a bit of wash and some baking to do.”
Branch angled his head toward an elm tree, where a mourning dove cooed her melancholy song. “Ah, Kate, I want you with us. You work too hard, you can take the morning off.”
A slow smile spread across her face, and she shook her head. “This isn’t something I need to do, it’s something I want to do.”
Branch folded his arms and gave her a measuring look. “Laundry? You do laundry on Monday. This is Wednesday.”
Her expression was as innocent as an angel’s, an imitation of the one he so often used. “A lady can’t wash her red things with her white things, now, can she?”
“Red things?” Branch repeated in his slow molasses drawl. He grinned. “And baking, too?”
Katie stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “What’s your pleasure, sir? Blackberry or peach?”
“Hell, Sprite, I’m working’ up quite an appetite. Make ‘em both.”
Don't miss any of
New York Times
bestselling author Geralyn Dawson's romances now available in digital format!
Historical Romances
THE TEXAN'S BRIDE
CAPTURE THE NIGHT
THE SCOUNDREL'S BRIDE (Originally published as TEMPTING MORALITY.)
THE WEDDING RANSOM
THE KISSING STARS
THE BAD LUCK WEDDING DRESS, Bad Luck Wedding series #1
THE BAD LUCK WEDDING CAKE, Bad Luck Wedding series #2
SIMMER ALL NIGHT, Bad Luck Wedding series #3, Bad Luck Abroad trilogy #1
SIZZLE ALL DAY, Bad Luck Wedding series #4, Bad Luck Abroad trilogy #2
THE BAD LUCK WEDDING NIGHT, Bad Luck Wedding series #5, Bad Luck Abroad trilogy #3
HER BODYGUARD, Bad Luck Wedding series #6, Bad Luck Brides trilogy #1
HER SCOUNDREL, Bad Luck Wedding series #7, Bad Luck Brides trilogy #2
HER OUTLAW, Bad Luck Wedding series #8, Bad Luck Brides trilogy #3
Contemporary Romances
MY BIG OLD TEXAS HEARTACHE
THE LAST BACHELOR IN TEXAS (Originally published as MY LONG TALL TEXAS HEARTTHROB.)
Women's Fiction novel
SEASON OF SISTERS (Originally published as THE PINK MAGNOLIA CLUB.)
Contemporary Romances written as Emily March
ANGEL'S REST
HUMMINGBIRD LAKE
HEARTACHE FALLS
LOVER'S LEAP
NIGHTINGALE WAY (September 2012)
About the Author
Geralyn Dawson is a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of over twenty-five novels written in a variety of sub-genres including historical romance, contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and women's fiction. She is a three-time Finalist for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award and a recipient of
Romantic Times
magazine's Career Achievement Award. Her novel THE WEDDING RANSOM was named one of Romance Writers of America's Top Ten Favorite Novels of the Year. The
Detroit Free Press
named her THE WEDDING RAFFLE as one of the best romances of the year.
Geralyn is currently writing romantic women's fiction for Ballantine Books under the pseudonym Emily March. The first three novels of Emily March's Eternity Springs series, ANGEL'S REST, HUMMINGBIRD LAKE, and HEARTACHE FALLS each earned coveted starred reviews from
Publishers Weekly
magazine. The fourth book of the series, LOVER'S LEAP is a January 2012 release with NIGHTINGALE WAY to follow in Fall 2012.
Geralyn invites you to visit her website at
www.emilymarch.com
and register for her e-newsletter, which includes contests, news about her upcoming releases, and other fun stuff.
You can follow her on
Twitter
at both @geralyndawson and @emilymarchbooks. Geralyn is also active on her Facebook page,
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