Texas Proud (Vincente 2) (15 page)

Mr. Nunn took several deep swallows of lem onade and nodded with satisfaction. Setting the
glass back on the tray, he turned his attention
back to Noble, assuming a businesslike pose. "As
you know, your mother's parents, your grandparents, are both dead. They left everything to their
only child, your mother."

"I'm beginning to understand."

"Your mother's trust states that you are to inherit the money on your twenty-fifth birthday. Of
course with the war, we were unable to locate you.
Imagine our joy when we learned you had survived and had returned to Casa del Sol."

"I was never told about any of this, Mr. Nunn.
You will understand if I need a moment to grasp
what you're telling me."

Mr. Nunn nodded, leaned back and folded his
hands across his ample stomach. "I can well imagine this must be a shock for you."

"You spoke of my father."

"The only contact I had with Don Reinaldo Vincente was a bank draft of considerable size along
with his last will and testament. His instructions
for the trusts were explicit in every detail. Under
no circumstances was the money to be changed
into Confederate currency." Mr. Nunn smiled. "If
only we had had your father's insight." He
shrugged. "Ah, well, at least you and your sister
will reap the benefit of his wisdom."

Noble placed his hands on the desk, lacing his
fingers together. "Just how much money are we
talking about here, Mr. Nunn?"

The attorney rummaged through his leather
case, withdrew several papers and smiled. "I could
read the will to you, if you like, or I can tell you
what it contains and leave you to read it at your
leisure."

"Just tell me what it says."

"Your share amounts to" he cleared his
throat "three million, five hundred thousand
dollars and some-odd cents. And, of course, you
inherit Casa del Sol and all holdings, buildings
and dwellings thereon. Your sister inherits her
grandparents' plantation near Atlanta, Georgia,
and ten thousand dollars per annum. I'm sorry to
say I don't know what condition the plantation is
in. I understand that most of the plantations
around Atlanta were laid to ruin."

Noble stared at Mr. Nunn in stunned silence. A
vision of a great manor with white columns and
rolling green hills crossed his mind. He swallowed
hard and swallowed again. He hadn't thought
about the grand old plantation house being destroyed. He had to know that Saber was all right.

"Have you been in contact with my sister?"

"Ah, yes, sir. She is staying with" he thumbed
through several sheets of papers-"Here it is! Miss
Vincente now resides with her great-aunt in Savannah, Georgia." He raised his head. "Your father wanted us to know where to locate your sister
in the event that -that --"

"In the event I died in the war?"

Mr. Nunn nodded grimly. "You're a wealthy man, Mr. Vincente. You and your sister should
have no worries about finances. I might add that
your father left your sister in your guardianship
until she is of age, or is married."

Noble felt the warmth and comfort of his parents reaching out to him and his sister from beyond the grave. Moments ago he had felt alone
and in the depths of despair. Now he could take
care of his vaqueros and their families. He could
buy cattle and horses. Casa del Sol would come
back to life.

He realized that Mr. Nunn had spoken and he
had not heard him. "I beg your pardon, what did
you say, Mr. Nunn?"

"I asked if you would like me to deposit a bank
draft for you in a local bank?"

"No. I'll want you to transfer some of the funds
to a Fort Worth bank. But the greater amount will
remain in New Orleans. If my mother and father
trusted you, then I shall do likewise."

Mr. Nunn looked pleased. "I took the liberty of
bringing five thousand in cash, knowing you
might need it."

Noble smiled. "It seems that you thought of
everything."

"We try, Mr. Vincente. If you allow us to continue to handle your affairs, we will serve you as
faithfully as we did your parents."

Noble stood and walked to George Nunn and
held out his hand. "I will use your firm and no
other."

George Nunn stood quickly, shaking Noble's
hand vigorously. "I'll have the proper papers
drawn up for you to sign before I leave. It has been
a pleasure doing business with your family. And I
look forward to our further association."

"My sister and I are in your debt," Noble said.
"Thank you for coming all the way to Texas, Mr.
Nunn. I hope you weren't inconvenienced."

The older man smiled. "Not at all. Not at all.
You and your sister are my firm's most important
clients, and I wanted to meet you in person." He
dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead. "I
always wanted to see Texas, but no one warned
me it was so hot."

"It's the drought. You must visit us when nature
isn't so selfish with its bounty." Noble liked
George Nunn. He seemed to be a man of great
loyalty, and Noble trusted him. "Has Texas met
with your expectations?"

"Oh, yes, and much more. Would you mind if I
just look around a bit?"

"Please go where you will. You are my guest,
and you are welcome to remain at Casa del Sol
with us as long as you wish."

Regret showed in the attorney's eyes. "I will take
advantage of your hospitality for the night, if you
don't mind. But unfortunately, I must return to
New Orleans tomorrow." He looked around the
library. "Magnificent."

"It once was," Noble told him.

"It will be again, my boy." Mr. Nunn's eyes rounded in horror at his error in etiquette. "You
will accomplish it, Mr. Vincente."

Noble gazed out the window, where he could
see one of the vaqueros hammering a loose board
to the barn door. There would be no more trying
to hold rotten wood together with rusted nails.
Not after today.

Like the legendary phoenix of myth that rose
out of the ashes, Casa del Sol would rise out of the
ashes to reclaim its place.

Although it was early morning, the grueling heat
had already tightened its grip on the land. Noble
pushed the stable doors open to circulate the stagnant air. The horses didn't seem to suffer from the
heat as did humans, he thought. He gripped the
curry brush and with wide, even sweeps ran it
across the haunches of his mahogany gelding.

Since Mr. Nunn's visit last week, Casa del Sol
had become a beehive of reconstruction. His men
no longer had to act as laborers, because carpenters and stonemasons had been hired to make repairs. A new coat of paint gleamed on the barn.
The corrals no longer sagged, and Noble had personally hung the new sign over the entrance to the
ranch.

He moved past his gelding to the next stall to
groom a three-year-old mare that would be perfect for Saber when she returned. The brush ran
the length of the horse's back. Noble was so absorbed in his task that he didn't realize he was no
longer alone.

"Hello, Noble."

He knew that voice well, and he knew it meant
trouble for him. Laying the curry brush aside, he
turned slowly to face his visitor. She hadn't
changed much. Perhaps she was a little more polished in her appearance and manner, but the face
was the same. She was still slender and beautiful.
He caught a whiff of her perfume and it was almost overpowering,, like a garden full of roses on
a hot day. Rachel had smelled fresh and clean, like
a spring morning. He wondered how two sisters
could be so different.

"Hello, Delia, or should I say Mrs. Chandler?"

"You can still call me Delia," she said, tightly
clutching the blue parasol that matched her gown.
"We never stood on formalities, did we, Noble?"

His dark eyes probed hers. "I somehow never
thought I'd see you at Casa del Sol." He went back
to grooming the mare. "You will forgive me if I
work while we talk."

"You haven't changed much," she said, moving
closer to him.

He glanced up. "You have."

"A gentleman would never point out a lady's
flaws."

"The change is for the better," he said woodenly.
"You shook off the dust of the ranch and took on
the refinement of a town dweller."

Her vivid blue eyes wavered and she concentrated on the brush strokes he applied to the
horse, wishing he were touching her. "I'd heard
that my sister was here, but Alejandro tells me she
was well enough to go home."

"Yes. I expected you to come earlier, when your
sister needed you."

She blinked her eyes and watched his hands as
they glided over the mare. "I would have, but I was
detained."

There was anger in his voice. "I see."

"No, you don't," she said wistfully. "But it
doesn't matter."

Noble tossed the brush into a wooden bucket
and turned his full attention to her. "Your sister
left yesterday, Delia."

She stepped closer, her eyes devouring him. He
was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.
His features were perfect, his body hard and lean,
his legs long, his shoulders wide he was perfect.
Danger emanated from him, and that was more
intriguing than anything else about him. When he
gazed into her eyes, as he was doing now, she
wanted to melt against him.

"What can I do for you, Delia?" he asked coldly.

"Is that all the greeting I'm to expect, Noble?"

His eyes darkened intensely. "What do you want
from me?"

"I want nothing from you. I... just wanted to
say that I'm... sorry."

"You've said it before." His voice was devoid of
feeling. All pretense of politeness had been
stripped away. "Now you may leave."

Delia reached out to him and then let her hand
fall away. "Will you ever forgive me, Noble?"

His gaze swept over her as if he didn't really see
her. "I forgave you a long time ago, Delia. I wonder if you will ever forgive yourself?"

She was overwhelmed by shame, yet she could
not look away from his searching gaze. "I don't
know if I can, Noble. So much has happened between our two families. Will anything ever be
good again?"

"Don't look back, Delia." He breathed deeply
and his voice grew a little kinder. "You are married now, and I understand you could one day be
the first lady of Texas. That's something to anticipate."

She touched his hand; he did not pull away but
waited for her to speak.

"How is Rachel, really?"

"She will still need more time to heal, I think.
But she's strong in will and resolve. It'll take more
than a mere bullet to discourage Green Eyes."

"You... admire her, don't you?"

"Yes."

Delia opened her parasol and spun it around to
give her something to do with her hands. "Do you
know who shot her or why?"

"I believe whoever shot Rachel was aiming at
me and shot her by mistake."

Delia frowned. "You were with her when she
was shot. I didn't know that. What happened?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself? Now, if you'll
excuse me, I have work to do."

He stepped around her and walked away, leaving her to stare after him. She ached deep inside
from wanting him, but she knew in her heart that
if he were not a gentleman he'd have thrown her
off his ranch. She had felt his coldness and it had
chilled her to the bone.

On arriving at the Broken Spur, Delia immediately directed one of the cowhands to take her
trunk upstairs. Then she removed her bonnet and
patted her flattened curls into place. She didn't
hear Winna Mae when the woman came up behind her.

"So you are here."

Delia jumped and turned to the housekeeper,
trembling. "The Indian in you allows you to sneak
up behind people when they don't expect it. I
would appreciate it if you would announce yourself before scaring me out of my wits." Her gaze
went to the scarred, work-worn hands of the
housekeeper, and she recoiled. "I don't appreciate
your skulking around corners."

Winna Mae's expression remained calm. "Will
you be staying long this time?"

Delia and the housekeeper had been adversaries from the beginning, at least as far as Delia was
concerned. To her way of thinking Winna Mae
had ingratiated herself into the family, and ran the
household as if it belonged to her. "It depends on
how long my sister needs me," Delia said haughtily. "I was afraid of what I would find when I got
here."

"She's mending well." Winna Mae nodded toward the stairs. "She's resting."

Delia moved to the banister and Winna Mae
stepped in front of her, blocking the way. "Let her
rest for now. She's tired after the trip home from
Casa del Sol."

Delia pushed past her. "You see to your duties
and I'll tend to my sister."

"If you care about her health, you will let her
rest a bit."

Delia sighed, knowing the woman was probably
right. "I'll just go to my room and put on something cooler-unless, of course, you object."

Winna Mae stepped aside, and without a word
disappeared through the door as quietly as she'd
appeared.