WM02 - Texas Princess (14 page)

Liberty stepped forward, her back as straight and proud as a queen. None of the shattered, frightened girl Tobin had held only minutes before remained. She took charge as she’d been born and raised to do.

“You did what you had to, Dermot,” she said to the old man, then turned to the maid.

“It’s al right, Stel a. I understand. It wasn’t your fault.”

Stel a produced a handkerchief from her cleavage and blew her nose. Her t was over as quickly as it started.

Wes looked disappointed he wasn’t going to get to do the lady a favor and shoot her.

“McMurray, you’d better be heading out. Looks like folks are wearing a road to your hiding spot.”

Tobin agreed. “Help me saddle up.”

As they moved into action, Stel a’s voice drifted to them. “Thank you, miss. You’ve always been very kind to me.” She fol owed Liberty to the old cottonwood where Wes had left Liberty’s boots.

Stel a knelt, helping her mistress slip the boots on. “I’ve been thinking, miss, and the only way I can pay you back is to go with you. With you hurt and al , I could be a great help to you.”

“No!” Al three men said it at once, but Stel a barely paused.

“You’l need someone to take care of you and your things and I’m a good cook and I know how you like your clothes ironed and your breakfast cooked, and—”

“No,” Tobin repeated. “We’re traveling fast and she has no things to look after.”

Stel a was insulted. “I was raised on a farm. I can ride as fast as any woman.”

“No,” Tobin repeated.

Stel a started to cry, big tears bubbled from her summerblue eyes and rol ed across her freckled face. “I have to help you, miss. I just have to. I got a sense about the future and I know mine is black for what I did if you’d don’t let me make it up to you. I’l die if you don’t let me help you through this time of trial.”

Wes leaned closer to Tobin. “Should I offer my services to shoot her again?”

105

Tobin grinned. Just as he mumbled, “She’s not going, so it doesn’t matter,” they both heard Liberty say, “Al right, you can come along, Stel a, if it’s that important to you.”

Tobin took a moment to think about his options. He could protest, but he wasn’t sure what Liberty would do. She was fragile right now. Maybe she thought she needed the magpie. Maybe she was too tenderhearted to leave her behind. Stel a probably had good reason to fear the captain now. If he’d hit a senator’s daughter, there was no tel ing what Buchanan might do if he found out Stel a saw Liberty and didn’t tel him.

Tobin looked directly at Wes. “Change of plans. Shoot
me
now and put me out of my misery.”

To his surprise, the hard ranger laughed. “My pa used to say one woman in your life is heaven, but two is hel .” He slapped Tobin on the back. “Welcome to hel , McMurray.

I’ve half a mind to change my plans and ride along with you.”

Tobin frowned wondering how, for a man who loved solitude, he managed to get in this parade.

Wes grinned. “Look at the bright side. Now you’ve got more to worry about than half the soldiers in Texas hunting you down.”

He looked at Liberty. “We can’t—”

She raised her hand and said simply, “End of discussion.”

Tobin raised his eyebrow. He hadn’t planned on discussing anything; he’d planned on ordering, but she beat him to the draw. The beautiful little general was denitely back.

He watched Dermot help Liberty into the saddle. Her movements were stiff as she tried to avoid any more twisting than necessary. She was fragile and for now she needed protecting, but he knew before this trip was over they’d have a long discussion... with or without words.

“Mount up, Stel a,” he ordered. “And keep quiet.”

Wes, to his credit, helped the maid up as she chattered. “I won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m along. I’l be like a mouse fol owing along in total silence, I won’t even

—”

Wes pul ed out a rag of a handkerchief that was so dirty it was stiff in spots. “You want me to gag her, McMurray?”

Stel a’s eyes rounded into saucers again.

“No. She’l be quiet,” Tobin said.

Wes looked like he doubted it but added, “Dermot and I wil stay around for a few hours and make sure no one fol ows you. Then I’m riding to join the senator. If he’s going hunting, I’m not missing the fun.”

Tobin glanced to make sure Liberty was in the saddle and had a good hold on her reins. “Ready?”

She nodded.

He pul ed his horse close to her and whispered, “I’l take it slow the rst hour. You let me know if you’re in pain and remember al the rules I taught you about riding.”

He swore he could feel Liberty push fear aside with determination. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the reins. Today she’d learn to ride. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

chapter 12

Y

liberty fought the pain in her side as they rode

the rough ground between the creek and the tree line. She knew Tobin wanted to stay out of sight, but as the morning passed she prayed for even ground. She didn’t have to look at him; she knew he was watching her, expecting her to crumble.

Most of her body ached—her face and ribs, thanks to Samuel—her back and legs thanks to the horse. Tobin had taken the time to tel her how to hold her body so that the movements didn’t hurt so badly. He’d even used his bedrol to brace her back. But nothing she did helped for more than a few minutes.

Stel a made little effort to keep her promise to be quiet. She seemed to see the escape as an outing and complained about the pace, the wind, the tree branches that snagged her clothes. The third time Tobin threatened to leave her behind if she didn’t keep up, she believed him. Liberty had no doubt that he would do just that if she tried to delay them again.

They stopped at noon at an old wel that had been abandoned on an early homestead.

The water had long ago turned bad, but the remains of a barn and house offered shade and shelter from the wind. Except to give orders, Tobin hadn’t said more than a few words to her al morning. He’d said even less to Stel a.

As he helped Liberty down, he held her next to him and whispered, “I want you to lie down and try to rest your back. It should be safe on the porch.”

“I’m ne,” she lied.

“No discussion,” he retorted with a frown. “No argument.”

He moved away and offered Stel a a hand down, but his orders were sharp. “Spread out a few blankets for Liberty to rest, then see if you can nd something for lunch in that bag.” He pointed at the our sack the cook had packed. “I’l take care of the horses.”

Liberty wanted to argue that she could help, but in truth, she could barely walk. Riding seemed no harder than breathing to them, but she’d been ghting to stay in the saddle al morning. As soon as Stel a spread the blanket, Liberty melted on top of it.

Tobin poured enough water from his canteen to dampen a scrap left from the shirt he’d ripped apart. He knelt beside her and lay the cool cloth atop the bruises on her face.

“This’l help,” he said.

“Thanks,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

She heard Tobin mumble something to Stel a about leaving her behind if she bothered Miss Liberty. Then Liberty heard nothing. She slept.

When she woke and moved her arm, she felt Tobin’s leg next to her shoulder. Liberty rol ed her head and saw him sitting a few inches away, his arms folded, his hat low as if he were asleep, his boots crossed. Only the rie within easy reach reminded her that he was on guard.

“You awake?” she asked.

“Yep,” he said, “but don’t tel your maid or she’l start talking again.”

Liberty laughed, surprised at how much the nap had lifted her spirits. “Where is my chatty helper?”

He shoved his hat up. “She left about ten minutes ago, saying she needed some time to herself. I gure if something

109

attacked her over by the privy we would have heard about it by now.”

“You don’t trust her.” Liberty whispered the obvious.

“Nope, but I gure you had your reasons for letting her come along.”

Liberty nodded.

“And as long as she doesn’t know where we’re headed, she’s not likely to run back to tel anyone like the captain.”

Liberty winked. “We’l know her true colors long before she knows where we’re headed.”

Tobin smiled and she saw the silent compliment in his gaze. “Something about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

She grinned, then touched her painful lip. “Something like that.”

He traced his thumb along the side of her cheek and gently caressed the corner of her mouth where a scab had formed.

“How long have I been asleep?” She rested her hand on the rough wool of his trousers, wishing she had the words to thank him, not only for last night but also for sticking with her this morning. If Captain Buchanan claimed he’d kidnapped her, Tobin could be in real trouble. But Tobin guessed Buchanan would prefer to believe the lie of kidnapping than any truth he might hear. Which suited Tobin ne. He’d rather have the captain mad at him and not Liberty.

mad at him and not Liberty.

“Almost an hour.” He made no move to pul away.

She felt the warmth of the muscle just above his knee even through the heavy fabric.

“Do we have that much time to spare?” They both stared at her hand lightly brushing his leg, ironing the material at.

“We’l make time.” He met her gaze but stil didn’t move.

Liberty felt his warm skin beneath the trousers, but it was nothing compared to the re she saw in his eyes. She looked away, not because the raw need she saw frightened her, but because his openness surprised her. She wouldn’t speak of it, this attraction she knew they both felt. They seemed to have some unwritten rule that as long as she didn’t, he wouldn’t. A silent pact to ignore an attraction they both felt.

“How long until we get to Whispering Mountain?”

“Five days if we push hard.”

She twisted, stretching her back against the solidness of his leg and felt his hand lightly brush across her hair. His rough hand was feather light as it caressed her cheek just beneath her swol en eye.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” She didn’t want to think about the pain. If she did, she’d have to think about Samuel and what he’d done so easily, almost casual y. “Tel me about this ranch cal ed Whispering Mountain.”

He was silent so long she wasn’t sure he planned to grant her request.

Then he began like a man who’d never told a story in his life. “My father was from Ireland, a teacher. He met my mother at a mission when he was seventeen. My mother said she fel in love with him when their hands touched beneath a book. They were married within days. He took al the money he’d inherited from his father and applied to Mexico for a land grant. By the time it came through, they were living on the ranch and my brother Teagen was on the way.”

“They homesteaded at seventeen?”

“Yep. My father loved the place he found because it was so isolated, bordered on two sides by hil s and two by rivers. And he loved the mountain the Apache cal ed Whispering Mountain. They told him of a legend that says if a man sleeps on the summit of Whispering Mountain, he’l dream his future. So one summer night my father climbed the mountain.”

“And...” Liberty waited, but Tobin had stopped. She poked his leg. “And?”

Tobin caught her ngers in his before continuing. To anyone watching, the gesture could have looked light, almost playful, but there was nothing casual in the way he gripped her hand, rm and solid. He didn’t let go as he continued. “My father dreamed his death that night, right down to how old his sons would be when he died, Teagen almost twelve, Travis ten, and me six. He spent the rest of his life preparing both the ranch and us for that day. He knew my mother wouldn’t be al owed to claim the land because of her Apache blood.”

Liberty turned so that she could see him. “And the three of you held the land.”

“Yes, we did. We burned the only bridge over the river and fought off those who swam across. We fought for months before nal y outsiders decided it wasn’t worth the risk to step on McMurray land. But we never let our guard down. Not then. Not now.” His eyes were suddenly hard. “Whispering Mountain remains a fortress even though it’s in our names now and no one can ever take it away.”

Liberty squeezed his hand and he turned loose of her ngers as if he wanted no comfort. “And your mother?” she asked as her hand brushed past his knee to the leather of a high moccasin boot he wore. “Did she help?”

No emotion reected in his face as he said, “She died in childbirth a few months after my father was kil ed at a mission cal ed Goliad. My baby sister, Sage, lived.” He smiled suddenly. “She’s smal like my mother was, but she’s no less of a McMurray. By the time she could talk she was giving orders.”

He lifted Liberty’s braid and added, “Reminds me of you.”

She started to react, then caught the hint of teasing in his dark eyes. “I have a feeling I’l like your sister.”

Liberty rested her hand back on his leg, wanting their conversation to continue. “You kept the ranch, just like your father planned. Now your children wil inherit, and their children, and...”

“Maybe Travis’s children, or Sage’s, but Teagen is a conrmed bachelor and I have no plans to ever marry.”

“You’ve slept on the mountain and you know your future?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need to sleep on the mountain. I saw my future when I was six covered in blood. I tricked death that day, but it’s bound to catch up to me sooner or later. The only thing I can control, I made a promise to do.

I’l not leave any children to have to grow up like I did with one eye watching for trouble and a gun always close. I’l never marry.”

Liberty felt his determination, heard it in his voice, saw it in his eyes. Nothing she could say would change his mind. She admired him for that. Unlike her, he knew the kind of life he wanted. Lacing her ngers in his, Liberty wished a little of the solidness that was Tobin McMurray would rub off on her. She’d spent her life oating between goals like a buttery in a garden.