The Heart of a Texas Cowboy Read online

  Also by Linda Broday

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  Texas Mail Order Bride

  Twice a Texas Bride

  Forever His Texas Bride

  Men of Legend

  To Love a Texas Ranger

  The Heart of a Texas Cowboy

  To Marry a Texas Outlaw

  Texas Redemption

  Christmas in a Cowboy’s Arms

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  Copyright © 2017 by Linda Broday

  Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Gregg Gulbronson

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  A Sneak Peek of The Last Outlaw by Rosanne Bittner

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Jan for always having my back and reading my stories when your plate is already so full it’s running over the sides. Your comments, suggestions, and advice are invaluable. We didn’t know when we were young and making up stories for our paper dolls that one day we’d still be making up stories—only this time in books. You’re my sister, my friend, my partner in crime, and I’m glad we’re taking life’s journey together. Love you.

  One

  North Texas

  Spring 1876

  Some old wives somewhere probably said that blood on a wedding day forewarned of things to come. But he didn’t have any patience for curses or omens today. Becky Golden was the only girl he’d ever loved. They were perfect for each other.

  Nothing would stop him from making a future with her. Nothing.

  Houston Legend sucked a drop of blood from the thumb he’d cut on a piece of shattered coffee cup. “Great,” he muttered. He’d probably get blood on the highfalutin ascot he was trying to tie. One good thing—it was black.

  “Houston, get a move on. You’re going to be late for your wedding.” His brother’s bellow was louder than a snorting, snot-slinging steer on the rampage. The huge stone house that served as headquarters for the famous Lone Star Ranch picked up his voice and bounced it around the walls.

  “Hold your horses!” Houston Legend fumbled with the fancy neckpiece that his beautiful bride-to-be had insisted he wear.

  The bedroom door flung open and his younger brother Sam poked his head in. “What’s the holdup?”

  “This damn tie. For two cents I’d wear my normal clothes.” Houston shot a longing glance at his comfortable trousers and shirt on the bed. He seldom wore a neckpiece and when he did, it was a simple western tie. “This isn’t me. I think it’s called an ascot or some such nonsense, but with this thingamajig on, the only ass in the room is me.”

  Sam strode forward. “You can do anything once, big brother. Becky wants her wedding perfect and you’re gonna give it to her. Let me see it.”

  With a flick of his wrists, Sam had the silk neckpiece tied in nothing flat. “Where’s your stickpin?”

  Houston handed him the diamond pin. “You’re not wearing your sheriff’s badge.”

  “Not on duty.” Sam reached for the black cutaway coat and held it for Houston. “Besides, it ruins the look of my suit.”

  A former Texas Ranger, Sam had given up the job when he married Sierra Hunt and adopted an orphaned boy two months ago. Sam was now sheriff of Lost Point, Texas—a place that until recently had been an outlaw haven. The town was only an hour’s ride from the Lone Star, so that made their pa happy. Stoker had said if Sam couldn’t live on the ranch, he wanted him nearby. Houston was glad he hadn’t gone far. He liked having his brother around.

  “Shouldn’t need the badge today. At least I hope not.” Houston nodded and shot him a grin. “Were you nervous when you and Sierra tied the knot? My hands are shaking.”

  “Mine shook too the day I wed Sierra.” Sam shot him a narrowed glance. “Becky’s the right one, isn’t she? I mean, you don’t have any doubts or anything.”

  Houston paused for a moment in thought. Although they’d grown up together on different ranches, he knew the exact second he’d fallen hard. Becky was ten and Houston had been twelve. It was right after they’d buried his mother. Although he protested, his father made him go to a barn dance at the Golden ranch. She wore a blue dress that seemed woven from his dreams and the soft lantern light shining on her hair reminded him of daffodils. He knew right then that there would never be another girl for him. Lord, how his heart pounded when he took her in his arms. Becky pushed away the dark shadows of his life with rays of sunshine. He’d known then that she was his one true love for all eternity, and he still knew it now.

  “She’s the one,” Houston assured him.

  “I wish Mother was alive to see you,” Sam said quietly. “You’d make her proud.” He wandered to the window and pushed the curtain aside. “I wonder if Luke will show up.”

  With one last glance in the mirror, Houston turned. “Hope so. I miss him, you know. I really like having our outlaw brother in the family—it’s easier than having a lawman like you, anyway.”

  Sam moved from the window and flicked off a piece of lint from Houston’s shoulder.

  Houston slapped his hand. “Stop it. You’re not Mother.”

  Pay
ing him no mind, Sam straightened the ascot. “I worry about Luke out there all alone, searching for the man who framed him for murder. He needs us.”

  “It’s what he chose,” Houston reminded him.

  Music drifted upstairs from the piano they’d lugged outside for the ceremony. Both bolted from the room. Houston would never hear the end of it if he kept Becky waiting at the altar.

  A few moments later, he pushed through the door and stepped onto the wide porch. Though this was a ranch, it was so large that it was more like a town, complete with a mercantile, school, telegraph office, and its own doctor. The early May afternoon was beautiful, with sunshine splashing onto rooftops and whitewashed buildings.

  Everything was perfect, and not a cloud in the sky.

  He and Sam strode to stand next to the preacher they’d brought all the way from Squaw Valley, the nearest town with a church. Overhead, the Texas flag fluttered in the breeze and the sun caught on the huge bronze star that hung suspended twenty feet away. The brilliant rays passed through the cutouts in each star point, creating a beautiful image at Houston’s feet.

  Reverend Smith fought a sudden gust of wind that sent his long red hair tumbling, blocking his vision. Remaining ramrod straight, he calmly parted the copper strands in the center like a curtain and peered out. Houston covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

  The pianist launched into the “Wedding March” and all eyes turned. Houston’s tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Becky was truly a vision with her golden hair hanging in ringlets from the crown of her head.

  How had he landed such a breathtaking woman? Must’ve been fate. She slowly made her way to his side and took Houston’s hand. Crazy with love for her, he stared into her soft brown eyes and squeezed her palm. He mouthed, “I love you for all of eternity.”

  The sound of a horse whickering outside caught his attention. Guests had been arriving all day. When he glanced up, he spotted his brother Luke, standing apart from the rest next to his black gelding. He’d made it after all. Their gazes met and he nodded to Houston. Houston nodded back, happier than he’d ever been in his life.

  Just as the good reverend opened his mouth to speak, a single shot rang out. It happened so fast, no one had time to react. As if in a daze, Houston heard Becky cry out, watched her collapse. He caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

  Blood oozed from a hole in her chest and stained her beautiful blue dress.

  Two

  Chaos ensued. Guests screamed. Some dropped onto their bellies while others ran for cover. Mothers shielded their children with their bodies.

  In shock, Houston stared as Luke whirled and fired faster than a man could breathe, aiming toward the corner of the house. Sam leaped over bodies, racing to capture the shooter.

  Shrugging off his coat, Houston placed it over his bride. Her eyes were open and filled with pain. A gurgling came from her throat, freezing Houston’s heart.

  “Someone get Doc Jenkins!” he shouted as he focused on his bride. “Dearest, hold on. Doc will be here in a minute. He’ll fix you up and you’ll be fine. Just don’t go to sleep. Please don’t close your eyes. Look at me and don’t close them.”

  Houston’s hand trembled when he brushed her hair back from her face. This couldn’t happen to the woman he loved.

  She had to live. They had so much happiness ahead of them.

  Please, God, don’t take her. Take me instead.

  The gurgling worsened. She went limp as life drained from her body.

  Doc Jenkins knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. Sadly, he shook his head.

  How long Houston held her to him, he didn’t know. His father knelt beside him. “Son, you have to let her go. Becky is gone. You can’t do anything else for her. Let us take her into the house.”

  “I can’t, Pa.”

  “Yes, you can. Just let her go.”

  “I love her.” The deafening cry that sprang from Houston’s mouth sounded like it came from some wild animal. He met his father’s stricken gaze. “Why? Why did this happen to Becky of all people?”

  “I don’t know, son.” Stoker laid an arm across Houston’s shoulders. “We’re going to find out, though; you can damn sure bet on that.”

  “I hope they catch the bastard and that he’s alive.”

  “I only know Luke’s bullet struck him. I haven’t heard how bad it is.”

  “Good that they caught him. I hope he doesn’t bite the dust before I can talk to him.” Houston would do a damn sight more than talk. He’d rip the man apart piece by piece and take deep satisfaction in the pain he inflicted.

  “Houston, let these men have her so they can take her into the house, away from curious eyes,” Stoker said gently.

  Houston slowly released his grip.

  Fighting crushing pain, Houston watched as men carried his love into the Lone Star headquarters and out of sight. Nothing made sense. How could Becky be dead? He accepted his father’s hand and put weight on legs that seemed made of wood.

  Only one thing penetrated the shock and horror—he’d lost the love of his life, and someone would pay. He’d take great pleasure in making sure the murdering bastard never hurt another woman. He knew ways to get the shooter to talk.

  Oh yeah, lots of ways, and all of them very painful.

  * * *

  How much time had passed Houston couldn’t venture a guess, although something told him it must’ve been quite a while. He sat next to Becky’s cold body in the dim parlor. Seeing her on the sofa so silent and still, he couldn’t believe she was dead. Piercing pain ripped through him and he had to force himself to breathe. He was glad someone had pulled the thick drapes that blocked out most of the sunlight. The dim shadows let him grieve in private. He just wanted to be left alone in the darkness of his soul.

  In the shadows, he could pretend it was all a dream and she’d wake up. Sobs erupted around him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone as he wished, but he paid them no heed. He was lost in a thick haze, where little thought could penetrate. Though he felt sympathetic mourners touch his back, he didn’t turn to acknowledge them.

  Why couldn’t they leave him be with the woman he loved?

  He unclenched his fist and stared at the bloody veil he gripped. He couldn’t let go of the last thing his bride had worn.

  Wailing echoed through the walls of the huge house that was still filled with wedding guests. He’d briefly spoken to Becky’s parents but they, like him, were grief-stricken and in shock.

  How the hell had this happened? How could the love of his life lie stone dead? It couldn’t be possible. Houston still felt the weight of her in his arms as she fell. Still heard the gurgle as life drained from her body. Still smelled the stench of death.

  How would he be able to live without his Becky?

  Stoker Legend pressed a glass of whiskey into his hand. “Drink this. It’ll brace you for what you have to do.”

  Houston took the offering but didn’t drink. “Why, Pa? Why did someone have to shoot her? She never hurt a fly, nor spoke ill of anyone.”

  “I don’t know, son.” Stoker dropped heavily into the chair next to Houston. “But you can damn well bet we’ll find out, even if we have to rip the killer apart.”

  “Sam and Luke really caught him? There’s no mistake?” Houston’s thoughts were so muddled. Words refused to penetrate his brain, or maybe they were rebelling like him, refusing to believe what had happened.

  “Yes, your brothers did get the bastard. Doc Jenkins is treating the wound where Luke shot him.” Stoker emptied his glass in one gulp.

  Houston stared down at the bloody veil.

  Becky was gone and he didn’t know how he could live without her.

  * * *

  Daylight had begun to fade and Houston still sat with Becky in the parlor. The room was quiet and he had such a frightening stillness i
nside. Houston gripped the glass of whiskey but had yet to take a sip. He hadn’t heard his father leave.

  Maybe when the bullet took Becky’s life, it had taken his hearing too.

  Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor and Sam sat next to him. “Luke and I locked the murdering varmint in the basement, where no one would hear him yell. Doc removed the bullet without benefit of anything for pain.”

  “Did the sorry bastard say why he did it?” Houston met Sam’s eyes. “I hope you waited for me.”

  “We did, but he’s saying plenty without prodding. He says Becky belonged to him, and he couldn’t let you have her.”

  “She wouldn’t let some cur dog think he had a chance in hell at her heart.” Becky wasn’t that sort of woman.

  She would’ve made a wonderful mother for their children. The house he’d built for her just past the schoolhouse would sit empty forever.

  The cry that tore from Houston’s throat made a sound he’d never heard before. Rage built higher and higher until he shot to his feet and hurled the still-untouched whiskey glass against the wall. It shattered, sending shards everywhere and amber liquid running down the expensive wallpaper like tears. “I want to hear that from his lips, see his eyes. I want to taste his fear. I want him to choke when I put my hands around his damn throat.”

  Full of blinding fury, Houston stuffed Becky’s wedding veil into his pocket and stormed from the room with Sam trailing behind. The crack of his boot heels against the floor sounded like rifle shots all the way down to the basement door off the kitchen.

  In seconds, Houston stood over the rotten bastard who’d viciously stolen his bride. He recognized him from the handful of times he’d seen the man on the Golden Ranch. Ernie Newman lay on a blanket on the dirt floor with Luke guarding from a nearby crate.

  Cold, sullen eyes glared up.

  Overcome with a rage unlike anything he’d ever felt, he grabbed Newman by the shirtfront, lifting him off his feet with one hand. Houston slammed a fist into the man’s face.

  When he drew back to hit him again, Luke grabbed his arm. “Beating him senseless won’t change the facts, brother.”