Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy

“Really?”

Travis chuckled and held up his hand. “Enough. Your point is well taken. We’re both among the walking wounded.”

Nell smiled. “Perhaps we could learn from each other,” she suggested.

Travis nodded. “Perhaps we can.”

They drove back to the ranch in separate vehicles. Travis pulled into the yard seconds behind her.

“Good night,” she called, offering him a friendly wave as she headed toward the house. A single light shone above the back porch door. In all likelihood Jeremy and Emma were sound asleep; it would surprise her if Ruth was still up.

“’Night, Nell.”

Once inside the house, she climbed up the stairs to her room, undressed in the dark and sat on the edge of her bed, reviewing the events of the day. When she turned on the bedside lamp and took out her journal, it wasn’t the five-hundred-dollar prize money she thought of. Instead, she found herself writing about Travis’s kiss and the discussion that had followed.

* * *

Jeremy and Emma had been up for at least an hour by the time Nell got out of bed. Sundays were just as hectic as schooldays because chores needed to be finished before they left for Sunday School and church.

Nell had coffee brewing and was cracking eggs for French toast when the kitchen door opened and Travis strolled casually inside. “Morning” he said, helping himself to coffee.

“Good morning,” she said, whipping the eggs into a frothy mixture before adding the milk. The griddle was ready and she had six slices of egg-soaked bread sizzling in short order.

“You coming to church with us?” Jeremy asked as he and Emma dashed in.

“Ah...” Travis glanced at Nell.

“It’s the Lord’s day,” Emma said severely, as if there should be no hesitation on his part.

“You’re welcome to join us if you wish,” Nell said.

He didn’t show any sign of reluctance. “I’d enjoy that.”

At breakfast Jeremy sat on one side of Travis, Emma on the other, the children accepting him as easily as they would a much-admired uncle.

“We’re lucky Mr. and Mrs. Patterson didn’t have any rooms left to rent,” Jeremy said.

“Real lucky,” Emma agreed.

“With the rodeo over, the Pattersons should have plenty of room,” Ruth muttered as she walked into the kitchen, yawning.

The news landed like a bombshell in the kitchen. The children stared at each other as though they’d just learned the horrible truth about Santa Claus. Nell felt an immediate sense of disappointment, but Ruth was right. Phil and Mary would have space available for Travis now, and the accommodations would be far more comfortable than a too-short mattress in the bunkhouse. At Phil and Mary’s, Travis wouldn’t need to worry about a goat eating the socks off his feet, either.

“That’s true. Mr. Grant could move into town,” Nell said, trying to sound as though it made no difference to her. It shouldn’t, but hard as she tried to convince herself it would be best if Travis left, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Every eye went to their guest. “Move into town?” he repeated, glancing at each in turn. “Would anyone mind if I stayed on here? Your goat and I have recently come to terms. It would be a shame to leave now.”

She shouldn’t be this happy, Nell decided, but she was. She really was.

* * *

“What time is it?” Frank Hennessey mumbled as he rolled over in the large feather bed and stretched his arms to both sides.

“Time for you to be up and dressed,” Dovie said. “Church starts in less than thirty minutes.”

“Church,” Frank groaned. “Dovie, you know how hard it is for me to sit through Sunday service.” But he eased himself up in bed to enjoy the sight of his wife fluttering about the room, hurriedly dressing. Dovie was a fine-looking woman and he took pleasure in watching this woman he loved.

It’d taken him long enough to make the leap into marriage. Not many men waited until they were sixty years old—maybe that was why the decision had been so hard. He might have remained single all his life if not for a woman as wonderful as Dovie. Their arrangement was perfect, he’d thought. Twice a week he spent the night. Two of the best nights of any week.

Dovie, being the kind of woman she was, had wanted them to get married. He’d led her to believe that eventually he’d be willing, and for ten years he’d believed it himself. Then all at once Promise experienced a rash of weddings and Dovie became possessed by the idea of marriage.

That was when he’d realized he simply wasn’t the marrying kind. Painful though it was, he’d confessed to Dovie that he just couldn’t do it—and she’d promptly ended their relationship. Those weeks apart had been agonizing for him.

He loved her, but he’d broken his word to her, and although he hated himself for hurting the woman he adored, he couldn’t give up the comforts of his life as a bachelor. For instance, the fact that his house was a mess. It was his mess, though, and he knew where things were. Dovie wouldn’t tolerate the unsightly stack of magazines by his recliner or the pile of laundry beside his bed.

Marriage meant more than making a commitment to her, he’d thought; it meant he’d be forced to alter his entire life. At sixty such a drastic change didn’t come easy.

Things had looked hopeless—and grew even worse when he made the mistake of taking Tammy Lee Kollenborn out one evening. That was the night he’d known he could never love anyone but Dovie. Afterward, when Dovie had gone away on a short cruise, he’d been terrified she’d meet another man. It seemed inevitable that he was going to lose her, and the knowledge was destroying him.

The solution had come from an unexpected source. From the man he’d assumed would be the least understanding. Reverend Wade McMillen. Frank owed him big time. The local preacher had suggested that Frank and Dovie get married but maintain separate households, the same as they were already doing. Then they could both have what they wanted. What they needed. Dovie had the commitment she craved, the wedding band on her finger. And Frank was free to eat baked beans out of a can in front of the television, wearing nothing but his underwear, if he so desired.

“Dovie,” he whispered softly, watching a silk slip float down over her breasts and hips. “Come here, love.”

“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, Frank Hennessey. I’m running late as it is.”

“Dovie,” he coaxed, and sat up. He held out his arms to her. “How about a good-morning hug?”

“Not now.”

“No?” Frank was surprised. Dovie rarely refused him anything, especially when it came to what she called “the delights of the flesh.” He’d never met a woman like her. Dovie was a lady to the core, but when it came to lovemaking, she was both lusty and generous.

“It won’t stop with a hug and you know it,” she chastised.

He did know it, and he sighed deeply.

Dovie disappeared into her closet.

“Where are you going now?” he called.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” she called back, giggling.

Frank tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t bother to tell her it didn’t work that way, at least not with him. The time they’d been apart, he’d done nothing but think of her. Thoughts of Dovie had tormented him day and night, until he was sure he’d lost his mind.

“Do that again,” he said, savoring these moments in bed.

“Do what?” came her muffled question.

“Giggle.”

“That’s a silly thing to ask.” But she did.

Frank loved the sound of it. He had to smile every time he heard her giggle. Or laugh. Or just heard her, period.

Dovie reappeared a minute later in a royal blue dress that buttoned up the front and belted at the waist. She braced one hand on the bed post as she slipped into her pumps.

“I’m going to do something with my hair and then I’m heading for church.”

“No hug?”

One outraged glance answered the question. Frank laughed.

“I’m driving out to see Savannah, Laredo and the baby after church,” she said.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked.

Apparently his question caught her by surprise because she abruptly stopped brushing her hair and met his gaze. Her eyes softened. “You want to see the baby?”

Frank nodded. “That surprises you?”

“Yes. Do you like babies?”

“Actually I’m quite fond of children.” It was his one regret in life. He’d give anything to have met Dovie as a young man and had children with her. She would have been a wonderful mother, just as she was a fabulous wife. “I would have liked kids of my own,” he confessed with a hint of sadness.

She continued to stare at him and he noticed a sheen in her eyes—as though she was about to weep.

“Dovie?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, damn,” she said, sniffling. “I’m going to ruin my makeup and I don’t have time to fuss with it now.”

Frank climbed out of bed and reached for his robe. “What is it, Dovie?” he asked again.

“I always wanted children,” she whispered. “So badly.”

“I assumed you and Marvin decided not to have a family,” he said. They’d never discussed the subject, and it seemed strange to be doing so now.

“We couldn’t have children,” Dovie said. “Marvin...had the mumps as a teenager. I never complained, but...”

“Couldn’t you have adopted?”

“Marvin wouldn’t hear of it. I asked him to reconsider many times, and he refused. As much as I wanted to be a mother, I couldn’t bring a child into our home when my husband felt the way he did.”

“I’m so sorry, Dovie.”

She attempted a smile. “It was a long time ago. I don’t even know why I’m crying. But when you said how much you regretted not having children, I realized...why I love you so much.”

The hug he’d been longing to collect all morning was now given with spontaneity. Frank held her tight and closed his eyes.

“Perhaps Savannah and Laredo will allow us to be substitute grandparents for Laura Rose,” he whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Dovie said. She cradled his face and smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I love you, Frank Hennessey.”

“I wish we’d met years ago,” he said, voicing his earlier thoughts.

“We met at exactly the right time,” she told him. “Any sooner and I would’ve been married.”

“Any later, and you might’ve been with that judge you met on the cruise. The Canadian guy.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted, but skeptically. She dabbed at her eyes. “Frank, I really must rush. You know how compulsive I am about being on time.”

Frank checked his watch and knew if he hurried, he’d have time to dress and join her.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Any reason?” she asked.

“Several reasons—but if I take the time to list them, we’ll be walking in during the middle of Wade’s sermon.”

* * *

Travis waited until Jeremy and Emma had left for school on Monday morning before he approached Nell, who was in the barn. “Ruth said I’d find you here,” he said, feeling a bit awkward.

She was busy tending a newborn calf, but glanced up and smiled when he entered the barn. Kneeling in the straw, feeding the animal with a large baby bottle, she explained that the calf was one of twins and had been rejected by its mother. Once again Travis found himself admiring her compassionate capable nature.

They exchanged a few pleasantries as she worked, and when she’d finished, he opened the stall gate for her.

“Thanks,” she said, walking over to the barn faucet where she washed and dried her hands. “So what can I do for you?”

“Do you have time to talk for a few minutes?”

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“Well, I’m a writer,” he explained, “and I’m working on a project that has to do with this area.”

“All right,” she told him, “but I haven’t got time to stop now. I need to go out and check the fence line. Tag along if you want.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

It wasn’t until Nell led a gelding out of his stall that he realized she didn’t intend to use the truck. Travis had ridden before—in Central Park. Years ago.

“You’re going on a horse?” This probably wasn’t the most intelligent question he’d ever asked. But he had to weigh his decision; on the one hand, he wouldn’t mind some Western riding experience and it would be a chance to talk to her. On the other, he didn’t want to risk looking like an idiot in front of a woman he found very attractive.

“You don’t ride?” she asked in a voice that suggested she should have thought of that herself. She expertly placed the saddle on the gelding’s back.

He hesitated before he answered. “A little.”

“You’re welcome to join me if you want. I’ve got Jake’s saddle and you’d fit that comfortably.”

“Is Jake’s horse still around?” He figured that would have to be an older horse, which could only help his situation.

“Yup.”

“Does he take to strangers?”

“Some.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Nell tossed back her head and laughed, her long braid swaying. “Come on. It’ll be fine.”

Within minutes she’d brought a huge quarter horse out of his stall. Travis watched her saddle him, amazed at her ease with animals.

“Twister, meet Travis,” she said, handing him the reins.

Travis found it amusing that she’d introduce the horse to him and not the other way around.

She led the two geldings outside into the sunlight. With a swift graceful motion, she mounted. “Do you need help getting up?” she asked when he stood there, unmoving.

He tried to look as if the question had insulted him; actually he wouldn’t have objected to her holding the reins while he swung his leg over the saddle. With a mighty effort he did manage to scramble onto Twister—appreciating the fact that Nell didn’t laugh at him.

As they started out, she set a slow easy pace, for which Travis was grateful.

“You wanted to ask me about the area?” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he said jerkily as his butt bounced against the saddle. “Te-ll m-e wh-at you kn-ow abou-t the gh-ost town.”

Nell eased to a stop. “Ghost town?” she asked, frowning.

Twister, following the other horse’s lead, stopped, as well. “If I remember correctly, it’s called Bitter End.”

“That’s why you’re here?” she asked. “Why you came to Promise?” She nudged her horse into a trot. “I thought you were a writer!”

“Yeah.” Travis managed to keep pace with her, but not without a price. If he survived this with all his teeth intact... “I am. And I w-want to—”

“Who told you about Bitter End?” she asked, stopping her horse again. The warmth she’d shown him had cooled noticeably. “You’re from New York,” she said. “You know Richard Weston, don’t you?”

“I met him once, yes, but, Nell—”

“What did he tell you about Bitter End?” she demanded. “We were afraid of this,” she muttered, not looking at him. “Everyone was.”

“Afraid of what?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Nell, if you’d give me a chance to explain.” He shifted in the saddle, wishing he could touch her, reassure her in some way.

“You’ve already said everything I need to know. You’re a friend of Richard’s—”

“No, I’m not! Don’t even think that. I met the man once, Nell. Just once. For a couple of hours. But it only took me a couple of minutes to see the kind of person he is.”

That brought her up short. Her gaze returned to him, cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure even now. But he could see she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him. He yearned for that as much as he did her kisses.

“Valerie, my ex-wife, defended him—his state-appointed attorney. Richard mentioned the ghost town to her, and she told me. I was intrigued. A ghost town from the Old West, one that’s basically undiscovered and hasn’t been commercialized. I wanted to see it for myself, as background for a project I’m working on.”

Nell said nothing. Then she said, “So you came all this way because of Bitter End?”

“That’s what initially brought me here. Yes.” But he liked the people of Promise, especially Nell and her family.

“Now I suppose you’re looking for someone to take you there?”

“Yes—I want to see the town.” He wanted to learn the history behind it, too. It was more than just a ghost town, if what Weston said was true, and Travis was hoping to unravel its secrets, include them in his book.

“I’m afraid you’ve made a wasted trip.”

Her unwillingness to help him took him by surprise.

“I won’t take you to Bitter End. And no one else will, either.”

She sounded stubborn about it, but he could be stubborn, too. “I’m going there,” Travis said. “I’ll find it, Nell. Others have and so will I. But I’d rather we did it together.”

“I can’t...I won’t. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“That town has done nothing but bring Promise grief. We just want to forget about it.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

His question seemed to catch her off guard. She was silent for a long time; when she spoke again, it was with the seriousness of a woman who knows more than she wants to. “Nothing good has ever come out of that place. Nothing. The best thing for you is to forget you ever heard it mentioned.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Then how do you know? Who told you? How many people have actually been in the town?”

Nell shrugged, not answering him.

“Then how can you be so sure if you’ve never been there yourself?”

“Everyone knows,” she whispered.

“But you’ve found out where it is?”

She hesitated. “I have a vague idea where it might be.”

“Where?”

Nell made a sweeping motion with her arm. “It’s out there somewhere. Exactly where, I couldn’t tell you.”

“And even if you could, you wouldn’t.”

She nodded.

“This is a historic site. Doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Bitter End?” Nell laughed without amusement. “Why is it so important to you?” she asked again.

“Curiosity, mainly,” he told her. “Like I told you, I’m a writer and I’m using a ghost town in my book. I wanted to make it as authentic as possible. I’m also intrigued by the mystery.”

“Well, you’ll have to ask someone else to take you, because I won’t.”

“Who, then?”

“I doubt that anyone will. But you might try Grady Weston.”

Richard Weston’s brother, Travis remembered.

“I wish you well, Travis. If you ride back to the house, Ruth will give you the Westons’ phone number.” Having said that, she galloped off, leaving him to make his own way back to the barn.

“All right, Twister,” Travis said, doing his best to sound calm. “It’s you and me, boy. We’re friends, right?”

He pulled on the reins to reverse their direction. “See the barn, Twister?” He pointed toward it. “Let’s walk there...slowly.” Apparently the horse didn’t care for Travis’s tone of voice, because he took off at a gallop. It was all Travis could do to stay in the saddle.

When he reached the barn, he managed to dismount, then, legs shaky, succeeded in removing the saddle; the bridle he left for Nell. He coaxed Twister into the stall with his name on it, then tottered back to the house.

That afternoon when he phoned Grady Weston, he learned Nell wasn’t the only one with strong feelings about Bitter End. It took him several hours to reach the other man; once he did, Weston practically bit his head off. In no uncertain terms, he made it clear that he’d have no part in satisfying Travis’s curiosity. Travis supposed Grady’s aggression could be attributed to his negative feelings about his brother.

Nell sought him out in the bunkhouse an hour or so later. “Did you speak to Grady?” she asked, her mood more conciliatory, or so it seemed.

“Briefly.”

“And?”

“And he isn’t willing to show me where Bitter End is, either. Just like you predicted.”

She nodded. “You’ll be leaving, then?”

“No.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected; he could tell by the way her eyes widened. “No?”

“I’m going to locate Bitter End, Nell, with or without this town’s help.”

Five

Nell was furious with Travis, but she didn’t know why. That morning, as she’d ridden across her property, checking the fence line, she’d thought about him. And she’d thought about Bitter End.

Just when she was beginning to like Travis, really like him, she’d discovered that he had an ulterior motive. He’d made friends with her children, kissed and flattered her, pampered Ruth. All this because he wanted her to take him to Bitter End.

He’d been open enough about telling her he was a writer. Now everything was beginning to fall neatly into place. His job was what had brought him to Promise, probably with all expenses paid by his publisher. She should have suspected he had an ulterior motive for befriending her and her family. He was planning to write about Bitter End—although she didn’t really know why. He’d told her he was working on a book. What kind of book? she wondered, and what, exactly, did he hope to achieve?

What really infuriated Nell was his comment about Bitter End being a historical site. He seemed to be implying that Texans were a bunch of hicks who didn’t appreciate their own history. Well, that was the furthest thing from the truth! She knew as much about this state’s history as anyone around here. In fact, she thought grimly, maybe she respected history more than that...that Easterner. That wannabe cowboy. Because at least she recognized that the past still had power over the present—the way Bitter End had power over Promise.

Everything she’d ever heard about the town had been negative. Her family’s roots went back to the original settlement, which had been founded shortly after the Civil War; so did Jake’s. Something ugly had happened there, something horrible. Whatever it was, it’d been disturbing enough to cause everyone to vacate the town. No one knew why, and for years and years the town was rarely mentioned. When people did discuss Bitter End, they spoke in hushed whispers. Now some ignorant Yankee wanted to turn it into a historical site!

When Richard Weston was fleeing the authorities, he’d holed up in the town, and that made sense. He belonged there, if anyone did. Richard had figured out where the town was partly because of Savannah. Despite Grady’s objections, she’d explored the countryside to find Bitter End in her quest for lost roses.

Nell had asked Savannah about it, and she’d watched a shiver move down the other woman’s arms as she recounted her visit. Savannah had mentioned an impressive find in the cemetery—Nell had forgotten what the roses were called. Savannah had gone on to describe the eerie feeling that had come over her; she’d hurriedly taken the rosebush and left.

Later, convinced she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, Savannah had returned, hoping to rescue other roses. She’d told Nell the most astonishing fact. Nothing grew inside the town. Not even a weed. The town was completely without life.

Yet all Travis saw was a money-making opportunity. He’d come to Promise to dig up information about a place best forgotten. Despite everything she’d said, everything Grady had told him, he’d insisted he was going to find Bitter End. Then he’d write about it and attract more people, strangers, to the town. Soon tourists would pour into Promise and their lives would no longer be their own. No one here knew why the settlers had abandoned Bitter End—and Nell thought it was better to leave things that way, to let whatever secrets were buried there lie forgotten. She wasn’t the only one to feel this way.

She wished now that Travis had chosen to move into town, to the bed and breakfast. Phil and Mary would know better how to handle his curiosity.

Nell closed her eyes and groaned at the memory of how pleased she’d been when he decided to stay on at the ranch. She felt lost and inadequate; worse, she felt foolish for having allowed this man to weave his way into her life.