Two Texas Hearts

ONE

‘‘I CAN’T JUST WALK INTO THE WIDOWS’ MEETING LIKE a beggar looking for a handout.’’ Winter shifted in the saddle and glared down at Logan, who was already hitching his horse to a rail. The banty rooster of a man had been pestering him all month, and now Logan had dragged him halfway across the county to a meeting.

‘‘This was a damn fool idea,’’ Winter mumbled. ‘‘They’ll laugh us into the next state.’’

Logan folded his spider-thin arms and waited for his boss to quit complaining.

Frustrated, Winter said, more to himself than the suddenly deaf Logan, ‘‘I’ve got diseased cattle from down south to worry about. This whole area is fixing to break into a battle. I don’t have time to go courting. Seems like blocking any herds to keep half of mine from dying is more important than dropping in on some ladies’ tea party.’’

‘‘You want to give up the prettiest twenty acres on your place, Boss?’’

‘‘I’ve never given up anything in my adult life!’’ Winter growled. He’d been hell-raising angry for a week after they’d read the will. Win had thought all he’d have to do was ride over to Tascosa and ask that pretty Mary Anna Monroe to marry him. She’d given him enough signs every time she was here visiting her kin. During the few socials he’d attended in the past five years, she’d made it plain she was interested in getting to know him better. Plus, the woman could talk ranching as good as any man he’d met when she wasn’t batting her eyes and acting coy.

But flirting was obviously one thing to Mary Anna, and marrying another. He would never forget standing in her aunt’s parlor like a greenhorn as Mary Anna not only turned him down but told him that she didn’t care how many miles of land he owned because everyone in the country knew he didn’t own a heart.

‘‘Well, if you’re not giving up’’-Logan spit a long line of brown fluid-‘‘then you’d best get off that horse. Because according to the will, come sunup, if you ain’t married, the First Methodist Church gets that house and the twenty acres smack-dab in the middle of your spread.’’

‘‘The old man did this to me just to get the last laugh from the grave. He knew I never wanted a wife, any more than I’d stand for some preaching farmer living on my land.’’ Winter swung his long leg over the saddle, shoved his dark brown hair out of his eyes, and stepped to the gate. ‘‘Let’s get this over with, Logan. I’ll marry the devil’s sister to keep what’s mine. I swore once that no one would ever take anything from me as long as I live, and it’s time to make good on that promise no matter who I have to partner up with.’’

The two dust-covered cowmen walked to the side of the huge window of Widow Dooley’s home and looked in at the circle of women, mostly dressed in black. They were having tea, and though Armstrong County had little society, it was plain these ladies all considered themselves gentlewomen just by the way they held their china cups. Leaving a widow was a hard fact of life in this country. The society had started up about the same time as the cemetery.

‘‘Unless you’re looking for a schoolgirl, these are the only pickings for a hundred miles.’’

‘‘I’ll be twenty-eight this spring, and the last thing I want is some giggly girl running my house. A woman no more than five years my junior seems a good range. And a widow would be practical because she’d already know her duties.’’

Win stared into the room with the interest of a condemned man asked to choose a rope. Half the women looked old enough to be his mother. Two others he couldn’t imagine ever being lucky enough to find one man to outlive. One was young, but outweighed him by double, at least, and the last was tall, well-proportioned… and toothless.

‘‘Well?’’ Logan’s bushy eyebrows danced up and down. ‘‘Which one will it be, Win?’’

‘‘I had no idea the devil had so many sisters.’’ Winter squinted hard, as if he could improve the looks of the group. ‘‘Are there no others?’’

‘‘None.’’ Logan shook his head. ‘‘Every widow in Armstrong County is here tonight except Mrs. Adams. She keeps to herself out on that little farm by Saddleback Ridge. It wouldn’t even be proper for her to make the widows’ meeting for at least another month… not that she’d likely come anyway, being new in town and all. Most of the farmers’ wives don’t get into town much. She’d be about the right age, though, if you had the time to wait for her to finish grieving.’’

‘‘How’d he die? Not poisoning, I hope.’’

‘‘Who?’’ Logan carefully looked over each woman in the room as if the choice were his.

‘‘Mrs. Adams’s husband.’’

‘‘He was killed in a stage robbery, I heard. Not too long after they was married. She’s been trying to run the place, but without money to hire help, she’s not having much luck. Talk is, he wasn’t much of farmer. I remember seeing him a few times. Didn’t seem like much of a man, either. Since his place is between ours and town, he used to run deliveries for us once in a while. Folks wondered why he even wanted a wife, unless maybe he thought she’d come with a little money to help get his place going. He always seemed long on lazy and short on sense, but he did all right picking a wife.’’

‘‘What does she look like?’’ Winter started moving toward his horse, already making up his mind. ‘‘Does she have all her teeth?’’

Logan tried to stop him, but the little man’s arm wasn’t quick enough, so he hurried to catch up to his boss. ‘‘She’s just a mouse of a woman I’ve seen a few times. Not so pretty you’d remember or so ugly you’d need to forget. But you can’t ride out there. Pick one of these, Boss. These are ranchers’ widows. They know the life better. I doubt Mrs. Adams would marry a man this soon after her husband’s death even if the fellow were a farmer and someone she’d known for years. It wouldn’t be right.’’

Winter swung into the saddle. ‘‘I’ll take a slip of a woman before I’ll be strapped to any one of those crows for life. And she’ll say yes if I have to promise her the moon.’’

‘‘But, Boss?’’ Logan spat a stream of tobacco as though just the thought of approaching a newly widowed woman left a bad taste in his mouth.

‘‘Get the preacher and meet me at the ranch in an hour.’’ Winter didn’t give Logan any more time to argue as he rode off toward Saddleback Ridge. He’d talk Mrs. Adams into marrying him, then he’d live with a shadow roaming around the captain’s huge house. If she was as mousy as Logan thought, he’d hardly notice her. And as far as Winter was concerned, that would make her the perfect wife.