Page 17 of Texas Destiny
And envied his brother, who would have the privilege of watching the woman with no canvas cloth separating them.
A hundred strokes. A hundred long, torturous strokes.
She braided her hair. He thought it a crime to confine something so beautiful. To confine her glorious hair into a braid, to confine a lovely woman to an isolated ranch in West Texas.
Slowly, she peeled away her clothing, every stitch, until nothing remained but the shadow of her flesh. His body reacted to the sight and his hand fisted around the blanket. Sweat beaded his brow, his chest, his throat.
He prayed for a cool breeze to whisper along his flesh and remove some of the heat, but the heat only intensified when she dropped a rag into the bucket and bent over to retrieve it. She tilted her head back, lifted her arms, squeezed the cloth, and let the drops rain over her face, her shoulders … her breasts.
Leisurely, she wiped the cloth along her throat, following the trail of droplets coursing down her body.
Houston imagined he could feel the pulse of her heart, the warmth of her flesh. He imagined it was his hand gliding over her body instead of the cloth, his hand touching her curves, his lips leaving a damp trail over her skin.
Rolling to his side, he brought his knees toward his chest and huddled like a child trying to protect himself from the aching loneliness. A solitary tear slid along his cheek.
He had his horses. He had his solitude. And on nights when the moon was full, he could look across the vast prairie and hear nothing but the lowing of distant cattle, the whisper of the wind, and the promise of tomorrow.
And if there were moments like this one, when he wished for more, he had but to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the still waters of a pond to remember that he deserved less.
So much less.
Chapter Five
Amelia awoke to the scent of strong coffee permeating the air. She had a feeling it would be as thick as molasses on a winter’s day. Grimacing slightly, she rolled off the cot. Every muscle, every bone she possessed protested her movements.
Standing, she pressed her fists into the small of her back and stretched backward. She wondered if she would be better off walking part of the day. Sitting in a jostling wagon was hard on the body.
Using the remaining water from last night, she quickly washed her face, then separated the strands of her braid, brushed her hair, and swept it into a coil. She glanced at her clothing, wishing now that she’d taken the time to wash it while they were near a creek. She had no idea if they would have water every night.
She carefully placed all her belongings into her carpetbag, folded the blankets that had covered the cot, and put out the flame in the lantern. It was a childish thing, really, to sleep with a flame burning beside her.
Cautiously, not certain what she would find beyond the tent this morning, she slipped her fingers between the tent opening and peered through the small slit. She could see Houston crouched before a boulder, a razor in his hand. He had set a jagged mirror no larger than the palm of her hand on the rock so it rested against the tree. He tilted his head slightly and slid the razor up his throat, scraping away the shaving lather and his morning beard.
Amelia withdrew from the opening, and with excitement thrumming through her veins, she snapped open her bag and reached inside. She withdrew her mirror, a large hand mirror that had belonged to her mother.
She rushed out of the tent, grateful that at last she had a way to thank him for all he’d done for her: the tent, the fire, the meals, the warm water. “Mr. Leigh!”
He turned, a furrow creasing his brow.
“You can use my mirror,” she said ecstatically as she thrust it toward him.
Waving his hand through the air, he jumped back as though she had offered him a snake. “God Almighty, get that away from me!”
Amelia hugged the mirror against her chest. “But it’s so much larger than yours. I thought it would make shaving easier.”
“I don’t even know why I bother to shave,” he mumbled as he picked up the small mirror and dropped it into a box along with the rest of his shaving gear. “Do whatever it is you need to do to be ready. Coffee and biscuits are by the fire. We’ll be leavin’ right after breakfast.”
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him rush out of the camp as though his life depended on it. She pressed the mirror closer to her chest. She wondered if he used the smaller mirror so he wouldn’t have to see all of his face at the same time, if in small pieces, perhaps he could pretend he wasn’t disfigured.
He’d only been fifteen when he had been wounded. She tried to imagine how devastating it would have been for a fifteen-year-old boy to awaken from battle to discover that a portion of his face had been ravaged by enemy fire. An older man who had learned not to place much value in appearances might have adjusted, but a young man who had yet to court and marry might have withdrawn from the world.
Every conversation they had shared—with the exception of one—had begun when she had asked a question. She had assumed that he considered her a burden. Now, she wondered if perhaps he simply had no experience at socializing. He always looked as though he was searching for something. Could he possibly be searching for something to say?
She held out her mirror and studied her reflection. She wasn’t prone to vanity, but she couldn’t imagine avoiding the sight of her face. She thought of him tugging his hat brim down, leaning against walls, and standing in shadows. She had a feeling Houston Leigh carried other scars that were visible only to the heart.
Houston knelt beside the creek, habit forcing him to stir up the water before he leaned over to fill the canteens. Still waters could throw a man’s reflection back at him.
He dropped to his backside, closed the canteens, and rubbed his hands over his face. He owed her another apology. His reaction to her kindness had frightened her. He’d seen it in those eyes of clover that reflected her heart as openly as a book. They had been filled with joy when he’d turned around, and he’d walked away leaving them filled with despair.
