Heart of Texas Volume One (9 page)

With a moan, Laredo finally broke away, his shoulders heaving. “That shouldn't have happened,” he said in a tortured voice. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me,” she assured him, her face against his chest. In all her days she'd never been more brazen with a man, asking him outright to kiss her, to hold her. But hard as she tried, Savannah couldn't make herself regret what she'd done. If anything she wondered why it had taken her so long. She'd had no idea kissing could be this…incredible. Her friends should have told her!

“Say something,” she pleaded. “I need to know you're feeling it, too.”

“I think I knew the minute you stopped to offer me a ride.” He got to his feet and walked away from her.

“Laredo?”

“I promised Wiley I'd check on Roanie. Remember?”

In other words their discussion was over; he had nothing more to say. Nor did he wish to hear what
she
might say. “All right,” she said, hanging her head in defeat.

He got as far as the garden gate, then turned back. “You won't go to the ghost town without me?”

“No,” she promised.

He nodded. He seemed about to speak again but hesitated. If he dared apologize for kissing her, she didn't know what she'd do. Probably scream in frustration. That would be an unprecedented event—Savannah Weston screaming! She gave an involuntary giggle.

Savannah watched him leave, then carried the tray of empty glasses back into the house. Despite his withdrawal, his abrupt departure, she felt like dancing around her kitchen. He'd kissed her! And it had been wonderful.

Not only had Laredo kissed her, he'd said he'd been thinking about it for days. The same as she had. That was enough to make her heart wild with joy. But there was more. He'd as much as said he loved her.

“Oh, please,” she prayed, closing her eyes and clasping her hands, “let it be true. Don't let this be a cruel joke.” But she knew otherwise; she'd felt it in the wonder of his kiss.

With the afternoon free, Savannah baked chocolate-chip cookies, one of her many specialties. She tucked a dozen inside the freezer to save for Maggie's visits and filled the cookie jar with the rest.

Because the kitchen door was open, she heard Grady's truck pull into the yard, followed by his near-frantic shout.

“Savannah!”

It wasn't her name that shook her, but the way he yelled it. Rushing to the door, she found him stalking toward the house.

“Grady, for heaven's sake, what's wrong?”

“You're not to talk to him!”

“Grady,” she said, her patience gone. “We've already had this discussion. Laredo—”

“Not
Laredo,
” he barked as if she were slow-witted or being purposely obtuse.

“Who?”

“Richard.”

“Richard?” She saw him then, her younger brother. Her “big boy,” the baby she'd loved and cared for and spoiled. He walked slowly down the long driveway, hefting his suitcase, eyes focused on the house as if the sight of it was the only thing that kept him on his feet.

“Richard,” she cried and pressed her hands to her mouth. “Grady, how could you drive past him like that?”

“He's not welcome here, Savannah.”

“Grady, he's our
brother.
” Not caring what he thought, she flew out the door and raced down the stairs. Richard. He was here at last. Now they'd learn the truth, the real truth, and everything would be right with their world again.

Richard had come home.

R
ICHARD HAD CHANGED
, Savannah mused. Although dusty from the road and weary to the bone, he'd acquired a look of sophistication she hadn't seen six years ago. This was Richard, her brother, but at the same time he was someone she no longer knew. None of that mattered, however, the instant he wrapped his arms around her and joyously hugged her close. Her tears mingled with laughter and pleas that he put her down.

“Savannah, oh, it's so good to see you.” His face brightened with excitement. “You're even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she smiled up at him. “I can't believe it's you.”

“I'm home. You have no idea how good this old place looks.” He gazed longingly toward the house.

Her heart warmed in that moment, and she was almost willing to forgive him the agony his betrayal had cost them.

“Don't get comfortable, little brother.” Grady's eyes were savage. He stood on the top step, feet apart, arms akimbo, barring the door.

Slowly Richard set Savannah away from him and faced his brother.

“Grady,” she said in warning. Despite his faults, Richard
was
their brother and the least they could do was hear him out. “Give him a chance to explain.”

Richard looked from brother to sister. He advanced slowly toward Grady, then paused. “I don't blame you, Grady. You have every right to be angry.”

“You've got that straight.”

“What I did was despicable.” Richard stretched out his arm to Savannah as if he needed her to stand with him. She stepped to his side, wanting to right the past and thrust all the ugliness behind them. They were a family, and if they couldn't forgive one another, then they'd be hypocrites to sit in church every Sunday. The Good Book was full of the power of forgiveness. Only this wasn't what Grady wanted to hear. Not now. Not yet. He demanded his pound of flesh first, and while Savannah understood his anger, she wanted him to give Richard the opportunity to set things straight.

“Despicable is only one in a long list of words that come to mind when I think of you.” Grady's face was hard and unyielding. He'd braced his feet apart in a way that said it would take the strength of ten men to budge him from that porch. Nothing Richard could say would change his mind. Savannah had bumped against that pride of his often enough to know. Unless something drastic happened, Grady wouldn't let Richard set foot in the home where he was born and raised.

Her younger brother hung his head in shame. “I don't blame you for hating me.”

“Oh, Richard, you don't know how difficult it was for us,” Savannah said, despite her determination to hold her tongue.

Richard's face crumpled with regret. “I'm so sorry. I was young and stupid, and then once I owned up to what I'd done…I couldn't face you and Grady. I was too ashamed.”

“You stole that money from your own flesh and blood!” Grady spit out.

“I was crazy with grief,” Richard pleaded, sounding the same way he had as a child when he knew he'd done something wrong. “I didn't think. All I knew was that Mom and Dad were gone.”

“And Dad had stored away a hunk of cash,” Grady said.

Richard gestured weakly. “I was never cut out to be a cowboy, even you have to admit that,” he said and glanced up at Grady for confirmation. “I could read the writing on the wall. With Dad gone you'd expect me to help around the place, and it just wasn't in me. Still isn't. Cows and me never saw eye to eye. You said it more than once yourself.” He gave a crooked half smile, enticing Grady to agree with him.

Grady remained cold and silent, his eyes as hard as flint.

“I know it was wrong to take that money. A thousand times since, I've cursed myself for being so stupid, so greedy.”

“You should have phoned,” Savannah chastised. “You could have let us know where you were. Grady and I were worried sick.” She looked to her brother to continue, to explain what they'd endured because of Richard.

Once again Grady's cool silence was answer enough.

“I thought about coming home,” Richard said in a small pleading voice. “You don't know how many times I've thought of it. You're right, Savannah,” he said, rushing his words. “I should've called. I know that now, but I was afraid of what you'd say. I didn't have the courage to face you.”

“What happened to the money?” Grady threw the question at his brother with a vengeance.

“The money,” Richard repeated, and the sigh that followed said it all.

“You blew it,” Grady said with disgust.

“I put it up as capital in a business venture. My plan,” he said, glancing desperately at Savannah and then Grady, “was to triple it and share the profits with you two. I thought if I did that, you'd forgive me and let me come home. Then we could go on the way we always have. But—” he paused and looked away “—the venture went sour.”

“In other words you lost everything.”

Richard nodded slowly. “The investment wasn't as solid as I was led to believe. It was a bitter lesson. But you have to understand,” he added, motioning toward Grady, “I was desperate to come home.” His voice shook as though the memory was as painful to him as it was to Savannah and Grady. “By this time I missed you both so much I would have done anything to find a way home.”

“You could have written,” Savannah said. “Even if you weren't ready to talk to us.…” For months she'd prayed for a letter, a phone call, anything that would explain what had happened. She'd refused to give up hope, refused to believe Richard would steal from them and then just disappear. After six months she stopped making excuses, and when they hadn't heard from him after a year, his name was dropped from their conversations.

“I
wanted
to write,” Richard said, leaping on her words. “I tried. As God is my witness, I tried, but I was never good with words. How could I possibly explain everything in a letter?”

Grady snickered loudly. “Seems to me you're about as slick with words as a snake-oil salesman.”

A flash of pain appeared in Richard's eyes. “You really hate me, don't you, Grady?”

“How could we hate you?” Savannah answered in Grady's stead, fearing his response. “You're our brother.”

At her words Richard rallied somewhat and gazed around the yard. “You've obviously done all right by yourselves. The ranch looks great.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Think about it, Grady,” Richard challenged. “What good would I have been to you if I'd stuck around? As far as I'm concerned, cows smell bad, have a negative disposition and are always needing something done to them. If I'd stayed, I wouldn't have been any help. Okay, I admit taking the money was pretty underhand, but all I really did was lay claim to part of my inheritance a little early.”

“We almost lost the ranch,” Savannah felt obliged to tell him. Surely he must have realized that? “Richard, I don't think you have a clue how hard it's been for Grady and me,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated with what sounded like genuine regret. “How many times do I need to say it?”

“Sorry?” Grady said the word as though it were the foulest obscenity.

Richard ignored the outburst. “I'll admit that what I did was rotten, but would it really have been such a bad thing if you'd been forced to sell the land?”

“What do you
mean?
” Savannah asked, certain she wasn't hearing him correctly. This land had been in the Weston family for generations. Their ancestors had settled here, worked the land, raised cattle. Generations of Westons had been buried here in a small cemetery plot overlooking the main pasture. This land was their heritage, their birthright. Their future. That Richard could suggest selling it revealed how little he understood or appreciated the legacy.

“These days everyone knows it's not a good idea to eat a lot of red meat,” he explained when it became apparent that his words had upset her. “The beef industry's been declining steadily for some time, or so I hear. Actually I'm surprised you've held on to the old place this long.”

Savannah's heart sank. It seemed impossible that Richard shared the same blood that flowed through Grady's veins and hers. But he was her brother and she refused to turn her back on him, despite his shortcomings. Despite his betrayal.

“You think because you say you're sorry it makes everything right?” Grady asked, his voice shaking with such rage Savannah feared he was near exploding. “Do you honestly believe you can walk back into our lives as if you'd done nothing wrong? I'm here to tell you it's not going to happen.”

Confused and uncertain, Richard looked to his sister for support. “But I'm willing to do whatever's necessary to make it up to you.”

“Give me back six years of constant hard work,” Grady shouted. “Days that stretched fifteen hours without rest. Days in which I did the work of two men. Back-breaking work. Can you do
that,
little brother?”

Richard stood still and silent.

“For six long years I fought off the wolf at the door. For six years I dealt with grief and stress and worry so bad I couldn't sleep.” He climbed down the steps, one step for each statement. Anger seethed below the surface unlike anything she'd ever seen in Grady. Not the explosive kind common with him, but the deep bitter anger that gnawed at a man's soul.

“I can't change the past,” Richard muttered, his shoulders hunched, “but I'd hoped we could put all this behind us and start fresh.”

“Not on your life,” Grady said. He stood face-to-face with Richard now, glaring at him. “You haven't shown any true regret. Not once have you asked Savannah and me to forgive you. As far as I'm concerned, you got your inheritance, and you wasted it. Now get off
our
land.”

“You want me to leave?” Richard sounded incredulous. He looked at Savannah but she turned away. “You're my family!” he cried. “The only family I've got. You don't mean this. Okay, okay, you're right, I should have asked you to forgive me. I meant to—that was the real reason I returned. Like I said, I want to make it up to both of you.”

Savannah wavered, ambivalent.

“You should have thought of that sooner,” Grady replied, his voice clipped.

She'd hoped they could resolve their differences and make Richard a part of their lives again, but Grady was right. Richard hadn't revealed any sincere sorrow for the agony he'd caused them. But then he'd always been weak and easily influenced. Nevertheless he was their brother; it came down to that. If for no other reason than to honor the memory of their parents, she wanted there to be no ill will between them.

“You're serious?” Richard's face clouded with disbelief. “You want me off the ranch?”

“I've never been more serious in my life.”

Brother stared down brother.

“I…I'm without a job. I was working at…at a sales job, and they downsized. I don't have anywhere to go. I left instructions for the check from my severance package to be mailed here.” He glanced hopefully at Savannah and then at Grady.

Savannah silently pleaded with Grady, but he refused to look in her direction. It was hell staying quiet, especially when Richard begged for her help.

“You, too, Savannah?” he whispered in the hurt voice that tugged at her heart. “Do you want me to leave, too?”

Savannah was in torment, not knowing how to respond. Of course she wanted him to stay, wanted their lives to return to the way they'd been before. But she didn't know if that was possible.

“I'm ruined,” he whispered brokenly. “The money's gone. I lost my job and I have no savings. All I could think about was getting back to you and Grady. Making things right again.”

Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip, trapped as she was between the strong wills of her two brothers.

Not waiting for her reply, Richard leaned down and reached for his suitcase. Apparently he was weaker than they realized because he staggered, but caught himself in time to keep from collapsing.

Savannah could hold her tongue no longer. “Grady, please! He's about to faint. One night,” she begged, sliding her arm around Richard's waist. “Let him stay one night.”

For a moment she didn't think Grady would relent. “All right,” he gave in, his reluctance clear, “but he sleeps in the bunkhouse. First thing in the morning he's out of here. Understand?”

“Thank you, brother,” Richard said softly. “You won't be sorry, I promise you that. I'll find a way to make it up to you and Savannah. I didn't know, didn't realize… I'll do whatever you want if you'll just let me stay. You're the only family I've got.”

 

L
AREDO HADN
'
T MEANT TO LISTEN
in on the scene outside the house. But he'd been in the garden at the time, and it had been impossible to ignore. He wasn't sure what had finally occurred between Savannah and her two brothers, but the three had apparently come to some kind of understanding. He didn't see Savannah again until dinnertime, and when he entered the house, she was all aflutter. He smelled biscuits baking, their aroma more enticing to him than the world's most expensive perfume. An apple pie cooled on the kitchen counter beside a standing rib roast, recently taken from the oven.