Wild Texas Rose (13 page)

He galloped away, leaving her standing with her mouth dropped open.

Then she raced back to Goliath. The noble stallion was patient as she mounted him using the rails on the corral, and although he wore neither saddle nor bridle, he knew where she wanted to go — after Thorn, wherever he was going.

She caught sight of him and his stallion in the distance as they topped hills and followed trails … and before too long she realized he was returning to her place.

Why? What was he expecting from her? An explanation? An apology? Because she hadn’t chased after him like every other woman in the world? Because she was a lady?

By the time she reached the Corey Ranch, she was thoroughly angry and thoroughly windblown, and she slammed into the stable without a thought to disturbing the horses. Finding Thorn feeding the neglected ponies did nothing to improve her mood. Thanking him seemed like more graciousness than she could manage right then. Instead she swung down off Goliath and shouted, “I suppose you would say that ladies don’t breed, raise, and break horses.”

As quiet as she was loud, he answered, “I would say that it’s not horses or proper etiquette that makes a lady, but a kind and loving heart.”

Which knocked the indignation right out of her. Was she a lady? She’d always thought so, but right now she wasn’t being kind and loving.

She was being petty and vengeful.

Leading Goliath to his stall by his forelock, she groomed him before replying, “My mama used to say that ladies do the right thing, whether it’s the proper thing or not. She said ladies try to see things the way other folks see them before making judgments.”

Thorn leaned over the gate. “I always liked your mama. Did she ever say anything about folks who make mistakes?”

“That they ought to learn from them.”

“I think that could be us.” Presenting his open, callused palm, he said, “How about we learn together?”

She looked at the hand and looked at him. It was easy to love a man who could admit he’d made a mistake.

She hoped it was easy to love a woman who made them, too. Putting her hand in his, she said, “I’d like that.”

He tugged her to the gate and helped her out of the stall.

They stood looking at each other, half-shy and all hungry.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, plain and simple.

Plain and simple, she answered, “I’d be honored.”

Then they were in each others’ arms. The straw crackled beneath them as they sank to the floor, kissing like long-lost lovers.

Which they were, Thorn decided, looking around for a place. The stalls all contained horses, the stable equipment posed a hazard to the wild coupling he imagined. “Someday,” he grumbled as he hefted her in his arms, “we’re going to make love in this stable. But for now, we’ll use your bed.”

He stepped outside.

The wind took their breath away. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

He tucked Rose close and ran for the wide porch of the house. He clattered up the stairs before he realized … there were horses tethered to the rails.

“Dognation,” he said. “Rose, those horses! They’re Sonny’s. Sue Ellen must have come in with him. We’ve got company!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Rose’s flushed, hopeful face fell, and she looked more dismayed than Thorn felt.

But Thorn had no time to plan evasive action.

Sue Ellen must have seen them running across the yard, for from the door she screeched, “You all have an announcement to make?”

Rose’s arms tightened around his neck.

“I’ll give up drinking and fighting and wild women for you, Rose.” Thorn let her feet drop to the ground. “But at times like these, I don’t know if I can give up swearing.”

“Try.” Rose patted him sympathetically before she went into Sue Ellen’s embrace. “Yes, we’re going to be married.”

“I knew it. I knew it!” Sue Ellen’s wild enthusiasm contrasted with Rose’s quieter pleasure. “I feel like an old-fashioned matchmaker.”

Thorn held the door for the ladies, then followed them inside.

“Oh, you are.” Sonny had his lard butt seated right in the best chair in Rose’s parlor. “Did you two get your differences settled?”

“We got everything settled.” Thorn glared. “Without your help.”

“Don’t know about that. That was my gun you shot,” Sonny said.

“Sonny told me all about it.” Thrilled, Sue Ellen clasped her hands at her bosom. “You two men are so brave.”

Thorn and Rose exchanged questioning glances.

Before they could ask what Sonny’s contribution had been, Sonny asked hastily, “So, Thorn, if you’re not a Texas Ranger, how’re you going to earn a living?”

Thorn leaned one shoulder against the wall. “I guess I’m going to dance in Rose’s saloon.”

“What?” Sonny yelped.

“And Sue Ellen’s going to be my first customer in the saloon.” Rose leaned, too, faced Thorn and smiled.

Sue Ellen giggled, and when Sonny glared, she giggled again.

“Women aren’t interested in seeing a man dance like a … a floozy.” Sonny obviously wanted to be derisive. He succeeded in sounding weak and confused.

“You’re right, sugar. I’m only interested in seeing
you
dance.” Sitting on the arm of the chair, Sue Ellen walked her fingers up his shirt buttons. “Won’t you dance for me, you sweet thing?”

A flush started up Sonny’s neck and flooded his face.

“Come to think of it, Rose” — Thorn stroked his stubbly cheeks — “I guess ladies don’t open saloons with dancing boys.”

“I suspect I’ll be wanting to keep your dancing for myself, too.” Still smiling, Rose sat down on the settee, tugged off her boots, and sighed with pleasure. “The saloon will have to wait.”

“Since I’ve got no saloon to work in, I guess I’ll have to live here on the Corey Ranch with Rose and breed horses. Horses and … maybe some babies. Huh, Rose?” Thorn was asking a serious question of her.

Rose gave the perfect answer. She blushed and looked at her wiggling toes. “Yes, Thorn. I’d like that.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Sue Ellen demanded.

Thorn shrugged. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to Fort Davis and find ourselves a Justice of the Peace.”

The two women cried “No!” together.

Bewildered, Thorn looked from one to the other.

Sonny cackled like an old hen. “You dreamer. You crazy dreamer.”

“Why not?” Thorn asked.

“You’re not sneaking off and depriving us of the wedding we’ve been waiting on for years.” Sue Ellen sounded determined. “It’ll be the event of the year.”

Thorn tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Is that what you want?” he asked Rose.

“No, not a fancy wedding.” She smiled shyly. “But I would like to be married by the preacher.”

“Oh, yeah.” Of course she would. She was a good, church-going woman.

“And don’t you think your family would like to be there?” Rose asked.

“My mother would skin me alive if she missed it,” Thorn admitted. His mother was a good, church-going woman, too.

Which meant henceforth Thorn would be a good, church-going man.

It wasn’t so bad. He’d gone when he was a kid, and sometimes as a Ranger, he’d slipped in for the occasional service — being shot at made a man think about stuff like God and religion. Anyway, going to church would make Rose happy, and that was what he intended to do.

“There you have it!” Sue Ellen said in triumph. “We’ll have a Christmas wedding right here in the parlor. Everybody’ll come. You’ll see.”

“If we wait that long, first baby’s going to come early.” Thorn sat beside Rose and tugged at his boot.

Sue Ellen grabbed his arm. “Don’t you sit down there and make yourself comfortable. You haven’t got no cotton-patch license, and you’re not staying the night until you two are hitched.”

“The baby’s still going to be early, Sue Ellen,” Rose said.

Sue Ellen gasped.

Sonny examined the ceiling.

A mixture of shock, embarrassment, and delight struggled for dominance in Sue Ellen. Being Sue Ellen, delight won. “Honey, I’m so glad.” She hugged Rose. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

Rose beamed and nodded.

Thorn lounged back against the settee and grinned.

“I told you not to get comfortable.” Sue Ellen scolded Thorn as she tried to drag him to his feet. “The whole county will be talking if you move in before you’re married. It’s scandalous. Now, I can arrange a pretty nice wedding in two weeks—”

“I’m not waiting any two weeks,” Thorn said.

“That’s as fast as we can make the dress,” Sue Ellen insisted.

He planted himself firmly on the settee. “One week, and you can stop digging your fingers into my arm, Sue Ellen. I’m not moving until you promise.”

“But her dress!”

“One week. And my hindquarters are putting down roots.”

“I can tell,” Sue Ellen said tartly. “One week, then. It’ll take every woman for a hundred miles working all hours, but you’ll have your wedding in one week.”

He looked sideways at Rose. “She looks good in that riding outfit. Couldn’t she be married in that?”

Sonny hooted.

Rose laughed and wiped at the mud that stained her skirt.

Sue Ellen placed her fists squarely on her hips and glared. “Thorn, you stop grinning like a baked possum and get your fanny off that settee. You got your week. Now, we women want our wedding.”

Thorn appealed to Sonny. “
You
understand. Can’t you call off your wife?”

Sonny smirked. “I wouldn’t do it if I could. Seeing the almighty Thorn Maxwell with his tail in a wringer does my heart good. You’re paying for your reputation now. Face it, man — you’re going to be married in a week in one of the biggest fiestas this county’s ever seen, and until then, you’re going to be with … out.” He spaced the syllables so clearly, no one in the room was in any doubt what Thorn would be with … out.

Especially not Thorn.

His last appeal exhausted, Thorn unfolded himself from the settee. Taking Rose’s hand, he asked, “Walk me to the porch?”

Shy as a bride, Rose went with him into the windy evening.

As two self-appointed chaperones, Sonny and Sue Ellen followed, and Sonny broke off to unhitch the horses from the post by the front porch.

Scanning the clouds, Thorn pronounced, “It’s clabbered up to rain. Look, it’s flashing in the north. Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Just” — Rose glanced guiltily at Sue Ellen — “lonely.”

“It’s not right to leave you alone.” Thorn kept his soulful gaze fixed on Rose.

Sue Ellen answered. “She’s been alone before, and she knows how to use her guns.”

“Well, that’s all, then.” Thorn lingered, letting his fingers trace the bones of Rose’s face. With a meaningful glare at Sue Ellen, he asked, “Do you think we could have one moment of privacy before I vamoose?”

Sue Ellen jumped. “No need to get huffy, Thorn. I suppose you can.”

Thorn didn’t wait to see her leave. Lifting Rose off her feet, he kissed her until he saw flashing lights behind his closed eyelids, until he heard the roar of cannon and felt the ground shake beneath his feet.

Kissing Rose took all his concentration, all his strength, all his tenderness. This was what he wanted from life — to live forever in this woman’s arms.

He would never have stopped, but something pushed him.

Rose pushed him
?

He lifted his head.

No, not Rose.

The wind pushed them, shoved at them. The storm burst upon the world. Sheets of water came at them across the prairie. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

“Come on, Maxwell,” Sonny roared. “We’re going to get wet.”

In a daze, Thorn looked at him, then down at Rose. Her eyes were still shut tight. Bliss lit her face.

“Magnificent,” he murmured, and he didn’t mean the storm. He waved acknowledgment to Sonny, and carefully set Rose on her feet. When he knew she had her balance, when reason had returned to her gaze, he grinned as wickedly as he knew how. In a voice meant for her ears only, he said, “Make sure you leave your window unlatched, darlin’.”

She didn’t even seem to pause and think. “After a day like this, I’ll have to bathe.” Standing on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “It will be so … embarrassing … if you sneaked into my room and caught me all naked and wet and … soapy.” She drew out the sibilance of the last word, and slowly, slowly leaned back and smiled.

His grin had been wicked.

Her smile was innocent. Or rather …
almost
innocent.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you, Miss Rose Laura Corey?” he asked fervently.

“I don’t think you have, Mr. Thorndike Samuel Maxwell.”

“Well, I do.”

“I love you, too. I will love you forever … and beyond.”

Transfixed by her vow, and the image he built in his mind of a naked, wet, soap-bubble-covered Rose, Thorn had to wet his lips before he could speak. “Sonny! Sue Ellen! Rose just now reminded me someone has to tend her horses and do her chores. You two go on without me.”

“No, you don’t.” Sue Ellen started forward.

Sonny caught her arm. “Forget it, Sue Ellen. Those two are making up for lost time, and nothing you can do will stop them.”

“Oh, I suppose.” Sue Ellen strode toward her horse and mounted in a hurry. “So
I’d
better make up for lost time and start working up the pattern for that wedding gown tonight.”

Sonny stopped right there in the yard, facing the wind and the lightning and the rain and his damned stubborn wife. In an injured tone, he said, “I thought you wanted me to dance for you?”

“You bet, sugar.” Sue Ellen looked at the two figures on the porch, staring into each other’s eyes, then leaned over and patted Sonny’s cheek. “As soon as that wedding gown is sewn, you can dance for me all … night … long.”

Sonny watched Sue Ellen ride into the rain.

Then he turned and gazed in disgust at Rose and Thorn, wrapped in each other’s arms and oblivious to the blistering storm, the promise of scandal, and his own soggy discomfort. “I knew that damned Thorn Maxwell was going to cause me nothing but problems.” Hefting himself into the saddle, Sonny rode after his wife, muttering, “First thing in the morning, I’m going into town, and I will buy Sue Ellen one of those model fifteen Singer sewing machines, and by God, she’d better get that dress sewn in less than seven days so we can get those two married. In the meantime” — his eyes narrowed, for he was a man on a mission — “I gotta learn to dance.”