Texas Woman

Chapter 21

“YOU CRACKBRAIN JOBBERNOLL! WHAT WERE you thinking to ride out in the middle of the night like that. You had us all worried sick,” Cricket greeted her eldest sister.

“Oh, my,” Bay said, hugging Sloan, a gesture becoming less awkward for them as they grew older. “You’re a mess. What happened to you?”

Sloan suddenly realized how she must look-bruised, disheveled, and wearing the shirt Cruz had given her off his back to replace the one Alejandro had torn away. “Despite the way I look, I’m fine,” Sloan said. “Really.”

Her protestations didn’t save her from her sisters. Cricket ordered up a tub, and Bay raced to see what she could find to doctor Sloan’s bruised face. Sloan was reminded of the homecoming she and Cricket had given Bay when she had returned from her life among the Comanches.

Sloan’s absence from Three Oaks hadn’t been nearly so long as Bay’s, but she had still found her family’s welcome cup of love full to overflowing.

It was pleasant to be coddled, to have her sisters worry over her and pamper her. In the past, she had been the one to worry. She had been the one to coddle-although she hadn’t been much for coddling.

As with everything else, that was changing too. She no longer needed to be mother to her sisters. They were mothers in their own right. They had grown up and changed. As she had changed.

Allowing herself to love Cisco and Cruz had meant unfolding the softer side of her nature. It had taken her by surprise, like fluffy cotton bursting from a sharp, prickly boll. It had left her able to accept her sisters’ pampering and coddling and to enjoy it wholeheartedly.

“Have you seen Rip?” Sloan asked Cricket as she dried herself off with a towel.

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“He’s been sleeping most of the time since I arrived. The way he sounds… it hurts to listen to him breathe. When he coughs, you can see how much pain he’s in. It’s awful.”

Despite Cricket’s warning, Sloan was unprepared for the sight of her father fighting pneumonia. Even in sleep, he struggled to breathe. She couldn’t stand to watch his pain.

She quickly left the room to go in search of Luke. She found him downstairs in Rip’s office, working on the books for Three Oaks. He looked comfortable sitting behind Rip’s desk.

If she was destined never to have Three Oaks herself, she begrudged it least to Luke. But that issue hadn’t yet been decided, and she hoped it wouldn’t be for years to come. Rip wasn’t about to let a little thing like pneumonia put him down.

“Are you ready to talk to Tomasita now?” she asked.

Luke wiped his hands nervously on his trousers and then stood. “Are you sure she loves me?”

Instead of reassuring him, she grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him upstairs after her. He pulled free at the door to Tomasita’s room.

“I can handle this alone,” he said.

“Of course you can,” Sloan agreed. “But I’m not sure Tomasita can. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Sloan could tell that Bay had been here to visit. The curtains were drawn wide to let in the sunshine, a vase of spring flowers sat on the table beside the bed, and Tomasita was sitting up in bed with at least a half dozen pillows fluffed up behind her.

“Hello, Tomasita,” Sloan said.

Tomasita turned from gazing out the window at the fields. The smile that had been on her face faded when she saw Luke standing beside Sloan.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her eyes flashing angrily. “I told you I did not want to see you again.”

“Luke has something he wants to tell you,” Sloan said, sensing that Luke was going to bolt rather than take the chance of being rejected again.

Luke looked desperately at Sloan, then back at Tomasita. “I love you,” he blurted.

“What did you say?”

Luke crossed to the bed and stood facing Tomasita. Determined to see this through, he cleared his throat and repeated, “I love you.”

Sloan slipped out the door. She had done her part. They could handle the rest themselves.

“May I sit beside you?” Luke asked.

Tomasita eyed him warily. “All right.” She inched over a little in the four-poster to give him room to sit.

Luke gently laid a hand on Tomasita’s belly. “Don’t pull away,” he said, to stop her from doing just that. “I want to feel our baby inside you. I want a chance to prove how good we’d be together, a chance to be a father to this baby. I want you to marry me.”

“You do not have to marry me to be a father, Luke. Babies come whether marriage vows have been said or not.”

“I want you for my wife. I want to spend my life with you,” Luke said, his hazel eyes earnest.

Tomasita closed her eyes and then opened them again. This wasn’t a dream. Luke was really here, saying he loved her, saying he wanted to marry her.

Luke was starting to doubt Sloan’s word. So far, Tomasita hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to marry him. Fear forced him to confront her. “Sloan said you loved me. Was she right?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

“And we’ll live happily ever after?”

Tomasita was silent for a moment and Luke held his breath.

“Oh yes,” she answered. “Most definitely yes.”

“Come here, little mustang girl,” Luke murmured as he reached over and lifted her into his lap. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

Sloan hesitated with her hand on the doorknob to Rip’s room. The past few days had been hell. Rip’s condition had worsened, then gotten better, then worsened again. She had barely had the chance to say a few words to him since Cruz had rescued her from Alejandro’s clutches.

She had just returned from riding the boundaries of Three Oaks, only to discover that her father’s illness had reached the critical stage. The family had gathered at his bedside. Either he would live through the day… or he would not.

Rip had already conquered one life-threatening bout with illness in the past year. She closed her eyes against that memory-slurred voice, sagging flesh, grayish skin, lumplike hands of clay. She tried telling herself pneumonia was different. It only made it hard to breathe; it would not take the life from his skin and bone.

But deep down, she knew she was only deceiving herself. Pneumonia was just as capable of killing Rip as the stroke he had conquered a year ago. She dreaded watching her father have to fight for his life again.

Surely she could find the courage to endure this tragic moment, as she had endured all the other challenges in a lifetime filled with adversity. Her personality had been molded by Rip long ago-by example, by instruction, by force, when necessary.

She had become indomitable, a fighter, the strong, brave heir to Three Oaks. She had never once given up or given in. She had to believe that Rip would follow his own teachings and that if it was humanly possible, he would overcome this second ravaging of his body by the forces of nature.

Sloan felt Cruz’s comforting hand on her shoulder and turned her head to meet his concerned gaze.

“Are you all right, Cebellina?”

She smiled at him. “I’m fine. More than fine.”

Her shoulders straightened; her heart lightened. This time, things were different. She did not have to face this calamity alone. She turned the knob and entered Rip’s bedroom with her husband by her side.

Sloan had only rarely come into Rip’s room. It was a spartan place. A giant four-poster bed, a tall cedar chest bearing a framed miniature painting of her mother on a stand, a copper-topped dry sink with a flowered pitcher and bowl for water sitting on top, and a worn rawhide chair comprised all the furniture and decoration in the room. It was good there wasn’t more or all those who had come to observe the bedside vigil wouldn’t have fit.

A very pregnant Cricket sat in a chair beside Rip’s bed while Bay perched on the edge of the mattress holding his hand. Their husbands, Creed and Long Quiet, stood on the opposite side of the room while Luke leaned against the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Only Tomasita was missing from the family that surrounded Rip, and Sloan knew that was only because she was still recuperating from her fall.

“How is he?” Sloan whispered to Cricket.

“I’m not dead yet,” Rip replied irritably. “Speak up so I can hear you.”

The strength of Rip’s voice startled Sloan, yet she could see it was a struggle for him to talk.

“You don’t have to talk,” she said. “I can see for myself you’re still ornery enough to complain.”

“Come closer, girl. Bay, get out of her way so she can sit down.”

Sloan and Bay exchanged brief, chagrined smiles of understanding for Rip’s brusque dismissal of his middle daughter.

Sloan reached out a hand and brushed a stray lock of gray hair from Rip’s forehead. It was a gesture of love he would not have tolerated had he been standing on two feet.

“I’m glad to see that husband of yours has managed to keep you safe here at home since your latest escapade.”

“I’m safe, all right, but-” Sloan stopped, unwilling to bring up the antagonism over Three Oaks.

“But what?” Rip prodded.

“I don’t want to argue-”

“Then speak up, girl.”

Exasperated, Sloan said, “I was going to say that this isn’t my home anymore. You saw to that.”

Rip grunted as he exhaled. It was plain he intended to have his say and the pain be damned. “Hell, girl, what did you expect me to do when that Spaniard came hunting for his wife? Let you sit at Three Oaks and wallow in regret for the rest of your life?”

“What?”

“You heard me. I had to find some way to make you sit up and take another look at that hombre, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you dare say you disinherited me for my own good,” Sloan bit out.

“That was the gist of it.”

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t want a living, breathing son to carry on at Three Oaks!”

Sloan held her breath as Rip grimaced in pain.

“Oh glory, girl, what I wouldn’t have given to have three sons!”

There was utter silence in the room as Rip’s three daughters absorbed that devastating statement.

Sloan watched a lone tear slip down the side of her father’s face and felt her stomach knot. She couldn’t help being born female, and she wasn’t about to apologize at this point for being a daughter instead of a son. “I wish-”

Rip cut her off with a bitter epithet, then began coughing. His face was a deathly gray by the time he managed to stop.

“Stop talking, you old fool!” Sloan cried. “Can’t you see it’s killing you?”

“If I don’t talk, I may never get a chance to say this,” he rasped. “I didn’t get the sons I wanted, but Lord knows I did the best I knew how with you three girls. Nothing turned out like I had it planned. Not for Cricket. Not for Bay. And not for you, Sloan, my eldest, my heir.”

“I am not your heir. Not anymore.”

“Oh yes. My heir.”

Sloan frowned in confusion, thinking maybe the fever from his illness had caused him to forget what he had done. “You disinherited me. You gave everything to Luke.”

Rip glared at her and said, “I’m not saying I didn’t think about it, but-”

“Think about it? I heard you myself! You offered Three Oaks to Luke.”

“Only so you’d have a chance to find out whether you wanted to stay with the Spaniard.”

Sloan stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not joking, are you? How could you-”

“Shut up a minute, girl, and listen to me!” It took him a moment to catch his breath and to come up with the energy to talk, but talk he did. “You always were hard to rein when you got the bit in your teeth. I’m telling you I never for a minute planned to take Three Oaks away from you. I wanted Luke to stay around, and I figured if he thought-”

“You lied to him, too? You never intended to give him anything-your own son?”

Rip snorted in disgust, which started another coughing fit that left Sloan so frightened she was furious with him for speaking at all. And yet what if he was right? What if he never got another chance to say the things he needed to say?

“Dear Lord, girl,” Rip said when he had recovered. “If you could hear yourself talk. Are you ranting at me because you thought I gave Three Oaks away or because I didn’t do what I threatened?”

“I’m riled because you manipulated my life. Because you didn’t respect me enough to speak plainly about what you were thinking. And because I love you, you stubborn old man, and it was tearing me apart to hate you for what you had done.”

There was a tense silence. No one moved. No one breathed. At last Rip hissed in a painful breath of air and said, “Three Oaks is yours. Always was. Always will be.”

He had not, of course, apologized. It was a tremendous concession, Sloan knew, that he had even bothered to explain himself to her. She clenched her teeth to hide the betraying quiver of her chin.

Rip’s eyes moved slowly around the room, meeting the fierce, protective gazes of his daughters’ husbands; sharing the understanding of his son, Luke; adoring Cricket, his pride and joy; approving Bay, his not-so-disappointing daughter; and respecting Sloan, his eldest, his right hand, his other self. “I’ve said my piece. Are you all going to get out of here and let me die in peace, or are you going to stand there and worry me to death?”

Sloan wasn’t conscious of Cruz’s touch at her elbow leading her from the room, wasn’t conscious of being ushered into her bedroom or of being picked up in Cruz’s arms and held in his lap in the rawhide chair beside the window. Too many thoughts held her prisoner.

She heard Cruz’s deep voice crooning to her, offering a haven, a surcease from suffering. She slid into the comforting niche he provided and hid from the anguish that threatened to overwhelm her.

It was dark by the time her thoughts released her to the world of the present. Cruz still held her in his arms, his chin resting at her temple. His fingers moved gently on her skin, caressing, reassuring. He felt solid, a rock to steady her and keep her from foundering.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

He smiled. “I am not surprised. You missed dinner and supper both. Would you like to go downstairs and see what we can find?”

He had started to help her stand when she said, “After everything that’s happened, I can hardly believe I’m heir to Three Oaks.”

She felt his whole body tense. He sat down again and pulled her back into his arms, holding her close. She could tell he was struggling with something. She reached up to smooth the lines of worry from his brow, but he jerked away from her touch. Hurt, she laced her hands tightly in her lap and waited.

He chose his words carefully when he finally spoke. “I am leaving Three Oaks tomorrow to begin rebuilding Dolorosa. I want you to come with me.”

“How can I?” she protested. “Rip is so sick! Who’ll take care of Three Oaks until he’s back on his feet? He needs me here.”

“I need you, too. Dolorosa needs you.”

Sloan tried to get up, but Cruz held her where she was. His voice was low, intense, urgent. “I love you, Cebellina. I want to make a life with you. Earlier, you spoke of love lasting forever, of nothing ever coming between us. But it seems there is something that can come between us.

“You must choose between a life at Three Oaks and a life at Dolorosa with me. I wish there were a way you could have both, but it simply is not possible.”

He paused long enough to trace the rigid line of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “If you do not come to Dolorosa with me tomorrow, I will know you have chosen Three Oaks.”

“I’m needed here now!”

“I need you with me.”

“Don’t force me to choose now, Cruz,” she warned, “or you may not like my decision.”

He stood up so suddenly she had to grab at his shoulders to keep from falling. His hand automatically circled her waist. Standing body to body, lightning flashed between them. Cruz reached up a hand and twined it in her hair. His blue eyes were hooded with need, his nostrils flared for the scent of her.

His head angled downward, and he took his time, daring her to run, daring her to stay. His mouth, when it settled on hers, was gentle, with a sweetness that made Sloan ache.

He slowly unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders, leaving her in her cotton chemise. Sloan shivered as his lips found the pulse beneath her ear. It was as though he had never touched her before, as though this were the first time… or the last.

“Touch me,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in her ear. “Put your hands on me.”

She pulled his shirt off and threaded her fingers through the hair on his chest, traced the hollows below his collarbone, and admired the washboard of muscle across his belly. The more she touched, the more she wanted to touch.

He returned the favor, mirroring her touches, murmuring love words as his hands caressed her through the soft cloth of her chemise. He wanted to give her pleasure; he wanted her to remember this night.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the soft feather mattress on the bed. He undressed her slowly, enjoying the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

Soft, he thought.

She mimicked him, running her hands down the front of his trousers, then feeling the texture of smooth buttocks and hair-roughened hips as she stripped him bare.

Hard, she thought.

Their loving was no less gentle than the touching had been. He entered her slowly, taking his time, testing her patience. When he was seated deep inside her, he said, “I want you to have my baby.”

He expected her to resist the idea, and she didn’t disappoint him.

“I can’t-”

“Oh, but you can, Cebellina.” He grasped her wrists and stretched her hands out above her on the pillows. His smile was feral. “I want to watch your belly grow round. I want to hold your hand while you labor, and bring our child into the new, civilized world that Texas will surely become. I want to be at your side while we watch our son or daughter grow.”

He withdrew slightly and then pressed slowly, steadily back into her, thrusts that reached to the heart of her.

He spilled his seed inside her with a joyous cry of exultation.

The seed might not take root. It might be rejected by the woman, as she might reject him. But he had given her the one gift he could leave with her if this was their last night together.

He didn’t mention his ultimatum.

She didn’t mention her warning.

They slept in one another’s arms and woke to the sound of children laughing and a baby crying. Still dressed in her chambray wrapper, Sloan left Cruz to investigate all the noise.

Cricket’s daughter Jesse was playing with Cisco, while Bay’s son Whipp was demanding to be nursed. Sloan felt an ache deep inside, an inexplicable yearning for the happiness she saw in her sisters’ faces, and touched her womb where Cruz had planted his seed.

If there was no child there now, there never would be. She loved Cruz, but there was only the promise from him to guarantee that their love would last. Who knew what might pull them apart? Look what had already happened. Within days of his declaration, he was allowing this situation to come between them.

It was too dangerous to love Cruz. Three Oaks would always be there. It was the reasonable choice.

Cruz took one look at Sloan’s face when she returned to the bedroom and knew she had made up her mind. Still, he had to hear the words. “Will you come with me to Dolorosa?”

She met his gaze with a courage she drew from somewhere deep inside and said, “I can’t leave Three Oaks right now.”

She said nothing more as she finished dressing in planter’s garb, ready to do a man’s job with a woman’s hands and heart.

Cruz’s face was grim as he finished dressing. When he spoke his voice was hard, his blue eyes cold. “Adiós, Cebellina. I will make arrangements to visit Cisco. A young boy should be with his mother.”

Before she had time to protest, he was gone. She heard his booted step on the stairs, then the murmur of voices, before the front door to Three Oaks slammed shut. Closing her inside. Closing him out.

She ran after him but got no farther than the portal to her room before she stopped. Cruz was being totally unreasonable! Didn’t that arrogant Spaniard know better than to give her an ultimatum at a time like this? She didn’t even know whether Rip was going to live or die. And she wasn’t about to follow after him like a distressed puppy.

Her chin jutted obstinately as she left her room and headed down the stairs. She found Luke waiting for her at the bottom.

“Aren’t you going after him?”

“No.”

“I thought you were smarter than you’re acting. And more forgiving.”

Sloan snorted. “Forgiving? Who am I supposed to forgive?”

“Cruz.”

“For what?”

“For being Antonio’s brother.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sloan said.

“I’m talking about blaming Cruz for the fact his brother broke your heart. He isn’t going to betray you, Sloan. He isn’t going to die and leave you-”

“Stop it!”

“Three Oaks is going to be slim comfort on a cold night, Sloan. Texas is going to blossom like a flower in spring once it becomes a state. You can spend your life with a man who loves you, helping him grow the sweetest smelling, prettiest garden on earth, or you can spend it alone. What’s it to be?”

Sloan bit back her retort. If having Three Oaks was what she really wanted, why didn’t she feel happier right now? Why did she have the urge to go running out the front door after a tall, arrogant Spaniard? Because the truth was, Three Oaks wasn’t enough.

“All right, Luke. Say I admit that you’re right. Say I agree that I need Cruz. That means I’ll be living at Dolorosa. Who’s going to take care of Three Oaks?”

Luke frowned. “You can work something out with-”

“You’re going to have to do it, Luke.”

“What?”

“You deserve it. I don’t need it, and it would make Rip as happy as a wolf at a lambing. Say you’ll do it.”

“I-”

“Hurry up! I want to go after Cruz, but I’m not leaving until I’m sure there’s someone here to take my place.”

Luke grinned and stuck out his hand. “You drive a hard bargain, Sis.”

Sloan grabbed Luke’s outstretched hand and pumped it twice before she turned and ran for the front door.

Cruz was coming out of the stable with his bayo when Sloan caught up to him. She ran full force into him and threw her arms around his neck.

“I love you. I’m going with you. You’re never getting rid of me,” she said between planting frantic kisses on his face. “When do we leave?”

Cruz claimed her mouth in a devastating kiss. When they finally came up for air, he found the presence of mind to ask, “What about Three Oaks?”

“Ask Luke. Three Oaks is his responsibility now.”

Cruz swung her in a circle, laughing aloud in relief. “I love you, Cebellina. I will do my best to make you happy.”

“Spending my life with you will make me happy. Watching our children grow will make me happy. Loving you will-”

He cut her off when his mouth captured hers. And from the smile that rose on her lips beneath his, there was no doubt she was the happiest woman in the Republic.