Read Online The Texan's Bride by Geralyn Dawson - Free Book Online
Authors: Geralyn Dawson
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darkness of her soul, the animal that had teeth sharpened by hatred, blood pumped by rage, and a roar given voice by anguish, strained against its bonds here beneath the warmth of the midmorning sun. “I want revenge.”
Branch squeezed her tightly. “I do understand. More than you can guess, I understand. But don’t get yourself all worked up over it, Sprite. What you are feeling is warranted. You have a right to want justice.”
“Not justice, Branch. Vengeance . I want to make the murderer suffer like he made Steven and Mary Margaret suffer.” She pictured in her mind the events of the night that had ended lives and torn apart her own. “I want to make him hurt.”
She heard the frown in Branch’s voice as he slipped his hand along her braid. “Aw, now, Katie. You may think you want that, but I know you really don’t. It’s only natural to want to hurt someone when they hurt us. That’s human nature. But it’s not civilized, and though it doesn’t seem that way at times, we are civilized here in Texas.”
He pressed a quick, friendly kiss to her cheek. “Come on, let’s start back. Graveyards are poor places to reason.”
She chose to accompany him, though in her thoughts she protested his claim of empathy. He couldn’t grasp how she felt. But then, there was no reason why he should. He’d never lost any family to a murderer’s gun. He’d never felt the guilt.
Some fifteen minutes later, they walked their horses through a meadow not far from Gallagher’s. The sun warmed the gentle breeze as Branch reached down and pulled a withered stalk of grass. He stuck it between his teeth, saying, “I bet this field comes alive in the spring.”
Katie nodded, the topic of spring a welcome direction for her thoughts. “Oh, it does. The birds sing and wild flowers blanket the ground. They’re mostly buttercups and black-eyed Susans, but every so often a few blues sneak in. I’m kind of partial to blue.”
“Me too.” He said it with a purr in his voice, and when she looked at him, she knew by his expression that he referred to the color of her eyes.
Nervously, she glanced away. She lifted her gaze to the sky, where high above, a bird soared with the current. “We’re busiest in springtime,” she said, anxious for a safe topic of conversation. “Every year we get more and more settlers through on their way south and west. I’m always worn out at the end of the day during spring and summer.”
“I’ve often wondered why you have no slaves at Gallagher’s,” Branch said. “Running your place is too much work for three people.”
Katie shrugged. “During the busy season Da tries to hire some help from town. He won’t hold for owning slaves, though.” Pretty Girl stopped to pull at a clump of grass, and Katie tugged on the reins. “Actually, he’ll tell you all about it if you ask. My father ran from his indenture in Tennessee. That’s what brought him to Texas to begin with.”
They reached the edge of the meadow and took the forest path that led back to Gallagher’s. Katie continued. “It’s quite a romantic story, he and my mother fleeing in the night, hitching a ride on a flatboat down the Mississippi to New Orleans. They sailed on the Good Intent to Texas in ’22.”
“And you were born here?”
“Shortly thereafter.”
“Sounds more harrowing than romantic to me,” Branch drawled. “But since you brought the subject up, I seem to recall something about a wager.”
“Now, that’s harrowing.” Katie stopped with a sigh and rolled her eyes. The wolf look was back on his face. She should have known he wouldn’t forget. “All right, do it,” she demanded.
He halted, arching his eyebrows in innocence. “Do what, Mrs. Starr?”
“Kiss me. Get it over with.”
He threw back his head and laughed. She almost punched him in the stomach. “Ah, but, Kate, that wasn’t the bet. You’re to kiss me.”
“Oh,” she said. Pretty Girl snorted and tugged at the reins. Katie
Branch squeezed her tightly. “I do understand. More than you can guess, I understand. But don’t get yourself all worked up over it, Sprite. What you are feeling is warranted. You have a right to want justice.”
“Not justice, Branch. Vengeance . I want to make the murderer suffer like he made Steven and Mary Margaret suffer.” She pictured in her mind the events of the night that had ended lives and torn apart her own. “I want to make him hurt.”
She heard the frown in Branch’s voice as he slipped his hand along her braid. “Aw, now, Katie. You may think you want that, but I know you really don’t. It’s only natural to want to hurt someone when they hurt us. That’s human nature. But it’s not civilized, and though it doesn’t seem that way at times, we are civilized here in Texas.”
He pressed a quick, friendly kiss to her cheek. “Come on, let’s start back. Graveyards are poor places to reason.”
She chose to accompany him, though in her thoughts she protested his claim of empathy. He couldn’t grasp how she felt. But then, there was no reason why he should. He’d never lost any family to a murderer’s gun. He’d never felt the guilt.
Some fifteen minutes later, they walked their horses through a meadow not far from Gallagher’s. The sun warmed the gentle breeze as Branch reached down and pulled a withered stalk of grass. He stuck it between his teeth, saying, “I bet this field comes alive in the spring.”
Katie nodded, the topic of spring a welcome direction for her thoughts. “Oh, it does. The birds sing and wild flowers blanket the ground. They’re mostly buttercups and black-eyed Susans, but every so often a few blues sneak in. I’m kind of partial to blue.”
“Me too.” He said it with a purr in his voice, and when she looked at him, she knew by his expression that he referred to the color of her eyes.
Nervously, she glanced away. She lifted her gaze to the sky, where high above, a bird soared with the current. “We’re busiest in springtime,” she said, anxious for a safe topic of conversation. “Every year we get more and more settlers through on their way south and west. I’m always worn out at the end of the day during spring and summer.”
“I’ve often wondered why you have no slaves at Gallagher’s,” Branch said. “Running your place is too much work for three people.”
Katie shrugged. “During the busy season Da tries to hire some help from town. He won’t hold for owning slaves, though.” Pretty Girl stopped to pull at a clump of grass, and Katie tugged on the reins. “Actually, he’ll tell you all about it if you ask. My father ran from his indenture in Tennessee. That’s what brought him to Texas to begin with.”
They reached the edge of the meadow and took the forest path that led back to Gallagher’s. Katie continued. “It’s quite a romantic story, he and my mother fleeing in the night, hitching a ride on a flatboat down the Mississippi to New Orleans. They sailed on the Good Intent to Texas in ’22.”
“And you were born here?”
“Shortly thereafter.”
“Sounds more harrowing than romantic to me,” Branch drawled. “But since you brought the subject up, I seem to recall something about a wager.”
“Now, that’s harrowing.” Katie stopped with a sigh and rolled her eyes. The wolf look was back on his face. She should have known he wouldn’t forget. “All right, do it,” she demanded.
He halted, arching his eyebrows in innocence. “Do what, Mrs. Starr?”
“Kiss me. Get it over with.”
He threw back his head and laughed. She almost punched him in the stomach. “Ah, but, Kate, that wasn’t the bet. You’re to kiss me.”
“Oh,” she said. Pretty Girl snorted and tugged at the reins. Katie
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