Heart Of Texas (Historical Romance) Read online

  HALF MOON RANCH: MOON RACER "Kudos to Constance O'Banyon!"

  RIDE THE WIND

  "Ms. O'Banyon's story is well written with well-developed characters."

  TYKOTA'S WOMAN

  "Constance O'Banyon delivers a gripping and emotionally charged tale of love, honor and betrayal."

  TEXAS PROUD

  "Texas Proud is another good read from Ms. O'Banyon. With its excellent characters and strong plot, readers will find enough action and surprises to fill an evening."

  LA FLAMME

  "Constance O'Banyon tells a tale replete with action- adventure and glorious romance."

  SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE "Mesmerizing, engrossing, passionate yet tender and richly romantic?'

  DESERT SONG

  "Constance O'Banyon is dynamic. Wonderful characters. [She is] one of the best writers of romantic adventure."

  "This has never happened to me before," she admitted, more confused than ever.

  His lips feathered softly across her cheek. He was trembling when he realized her mouth. was just a breath away from his. Sweet torment tore at him, and he felt like a man dying of thirst.

  He had to have her, all of her, or he would drift forever with nothing to live for. He could feel her body soften against his, and he knew she wanted him too. His mouth touched the edge of her full lips, and they trembled against his.

  Casey felt his breath on her mouth and an incredible sweetness touched her heart. He hadn't kissed her yet, but merely brushed his lips across hers.

  What would she do if he actually kissed her?

  Other books by Constance O'Banyon:

  MOON RACER

  THE AGREEMENT (SECRET FIRES)

  RIDE THE WIND

  SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE (anthology)

  TYKOTA'S WOMAN

  FIVE GOLD RINGS (anthology)

  SAN ANTONIO ROSE

  TEXAS PROUD

  CELEBRATIONS (anthology)

  This one is for you, Jennifer Dawn Gee, my little redheaded daughter-in-law. I am so glad my son chose you.

  And my son, Jason, why do I always have to smile when I see you? You are the light of my life.

  Kimberly Melton, my dearest daughter, I treasure every day I have with you. We so often walk the same path.

  My son, Rick, the rock that so often holds this family together. Words are inadequate to thank you for your strength and devotion to those you love. We all benefit from your caring nature.

  Pamela, my first born and sometimes writing partner. We think so much alike it's scary. Especially when the words you write are also in my mind.

  To my uncle, Henry Hoyle. Once again you came to my rescue when I needed advice on ranching. What would I do without my favorite uncle?

  Dr. R.N.Gray. I tapped into knowledge of Texas once more. Thanks for letting me know how to do away with a large number of cattle in the 1800s.

  The day was bleak and dreary, and it had been raining off and on all morning. But the weather didn't seem to dampen the spirit of the young woman who stood ramrod straight, her pale blue eyes intense and unflinching as she stared at the wagon master.

  "I'm not going back!"

  Her unrelenting demeanor somehow made her seem formidable for such a small slip of a girl. She came only shoulder high on Marty Grimshaw. The stubborn tilt of her head warned Grimshaw that she was going to give him trouble. He felt pity for Casey Hamilton because her life had taken a devastating turn-only yesterday they had buried her pa after several of the men had recovered his mangled body from the floodwaters that had crushed him between two wagons.

  Grimshaw respectfully removed his hat, then shifted from one booted foot to the other, knowing he was only adding to her pain, but he had no choice. It was his duty to do right by everyone under his protection, and if that meant sending her back to Virginia, then that was what he would do.

  He stared at her, assessing her features. She was a pretty little gal with a mass of red-gold hair that curled around her face in ringlets. There was a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and she had the most unusual and beautiful turquoise- blue eyes he had ever seen. She was delicately built, her mannerisms those of a fine lady.

  Grimshaw knew some of her history from what her father had told him. Her mother had died some years back, and the family had, at one time, owned a bank in Charlottesville. From what he could tell, the Hamiltons had lost everything in the war. He couldn't conceive what fool notion had driven John Hamilton to embark on such a dangerous venture with his motherless family. There was no way in hell Miss Hamilton could make it to Texas on her own. Her brother, Sam, was barely thirteen, and little jenny was somewhere around four or five years old. That alone was a lot of responsibility for one little gal to contend with, without adding the hazards of the two- month journey still ahead of them.

  "I'm sending you back to Virginia, Miss Ham ilton, but you needn't worry. Joe Franks will be going with you. He's a good man-he'll see you safely home."

  Casey was fighting back tears along with feelings of anger and frustration. "Virginia isn't our home anymore, Mr. Grimshaw. Our house is gone, and our land was taken for back taxes. But we do have a home and land waiting for us in Texas-and that's where we are going to go, no matter what!"

  She paused, and he realized that she was choosing her words carefully.

  "You have every right to refuse to let us stay with the wagon train, but you can't prevent us from going to Texas on our own."

  Grimshaw thought he'd seen everything in the fifteen years he'd been wagon master, but the accident that had left the three Hamilton offspring without a father had gotten under his skin. Maybe he felt partly responsible because he should have prevented John Hamilton from swimming to help the Larsons' two stranded wagons. The pain in this little gal's eyes, her helplessness, and her desire to keep her family together made him feel guilty. It was hard for families to rip up their roots and leave everything that was familiar to them. But it was near impossible to make the crossing without a man to do the heavy, backbreaking work that kept the wagons rolling.

  "This land can be a mighty cruel place for those who don't know what they're doing, and you don't have any idea what hardships still lie ahead of you. How do you expect to take care of yourself, let alone your brother and sister?"

  In some ways Mr. Grimshaw reminded. Casey of her father-he was about the same age and build and had the same color brown eyes. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fill her own eyes at the thought of her father. Right now she had to concentrate on the problem at hand.

  She had to admit that Mr. Grimshaw was making a good argument, and it scared her some. In truth, she didn't know how she was going to make it without her father, but she wasn't going to give up.

  Life in Virginia had not been easy for her family since the Yankees had laid siege to Charlottesville. They had survived for three years in a small two-room cottage, living on little more than hardtack and beans. Still, they had been fortunate, because they at least had a cow, so jenny and Sam could have fresh milk, and the family could have butter.

  No matter what faced them on the journey ahead, it couldn't be harder than living through war and its devastating aftermath. They had come through hard times before; somehow, they would have to get through their father's death, too. No matter how much it hurt to think about going on without him.

  Texas was where her father had wanted to take them, and Texas was where they were going to go, although she had no idea what would await them when they got there.

  "My uncle, my mother's brother, left us some land. I don't know much about it, but I do know that it's more than what we left behind in Virginia."

  Her stor
y was becoming a familiar one to Grimshaw. Since the war had ended, the migration west had become the only hope for many Southern families. But he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by sentimentality.

  .The plain truth is, you've got to go back to Charlottesville. We'll be pulling out in the morning... without you."

  "I'm eighteen years old, and I'm strong for a woman," Casey stated emphatically. "I will make it, because if I don't, my father died for nothing. It was his dream for our family to start a new life in Texas and put the old life behind us."

  Grimshaw slapped his battered hat against his thigh in frustration. "Miss Hamilton, I've seen many families that had to turn back, and there's no shame in it. Everyone has a dream of a better life, but sometimes those dreams are buried along the way like the broken carcasses of the deserted wagons you've seen littering the trail. And sometimes those who reach their destination find it more of a nightmare than a dream."

  Grimshaw watched Casey flinch at his hard words. He didn't feel good about wrenching her heart out, but he had to drive the truth home to her. He already had her father's death on his conscience; he didn't want to be responsible for this courageous young woman's death as well.

  "I got to know your pa pretty well, and I liked him. It didn't take me long to understand that he took real good care of his family despite hard times. I think he would want you to go back to Virginia."

  Casey was distracted for a moment as she watched her brother try to unharness the horses- a task he usually performed with their father. Sam was struggling to complete the task alone. He was too young to be doing a man's job, but he was determined to do it. It was only the three of them now, and they had to take care of each other, because no one else would.

  "You didn't know Papa at all if you think he would expect his children to turn tail and run."

  Grimshaw had little doubt that she had the courage to push on, but that alone could get her killed, along with her brother and sister. He had twenty families to look after, and he couldn't let her have her way. She had a power of persuasion about her, though, and he felt himself wavering in his resolve.

  If he did allow her to stay with the wagon train, he would be breaking a rule he'd never broken before: letting a woman make the trek without a man to help her. He watched her chin angle upward, and he could see that her fingernails were digging into the palms of her clenched hands.

  "Why don't you sleep on it, and we'll talk more about it in the morning," he advised her, hoping that when she'd had a chance to think it over, she'd realize he was right.

  "There's nothing to talk about. We are going on to the Spanish Spur, and neither you nor anyone else is going to stop us. You only have to decide if you'll let us go part of the way with this wagon train."

  Grimshaw's mouth thinned to a narrow line. "Did you say the name of the ranch was the Spanish Spur? I've heard of it-and from what I remember, it's quite a spread."

  "I don't know much about it." Casey studied his face. She reasoned that the longer she kept him talking, the less likely he was to tell her they had to leave the wagon train. "What have you heard about it?"

  "Was your uncle's name Bob Reynolds?"

  "Yes. Did you know him?"

  "Never met him. But he was well respected, and his name is known to me."

  "He was my mother's brother. Papa said Uncle Bob never married and had no family of his own. I guess that's why he left everything to us. The will said the property is located on a river. Do you know anything about that?"

  Grimshaw grinned. "I'll say it's located on a river-the Brazos!" He scratched his head and then shook it. "I don't know what you're going to do with all that land."

  Casey flinched at his hard tone, but never took her gaze from his. "We'll do just fine. It belongs to us, and we are going to settle there."

  "Lord help you." Grimshaw felt grudging respect for the young woman's temerity-she just wouldn't let go. "I don't guess it would do any good to ask you to think about what's best for your brother and sister?"

  "What's best for them is to have a home," Casey said stubbornly.

  "As I said, we'll talk more on this in the morning." Grimshaw put his hat back on his head and nodded as he courteously touched the brim. "Good evening to you, Miss Hamilton."

  Only when Casey watched him walk away did she allow her shoulders to droop and uncertainty to settle over her. She might have sounded confident when she had been talking to Mr. Gricnshaw, but she wasn't confident at all. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. But she had to hold the family together-she just had to. Casey summoned her courage, refusing to give in to the tears that burned behind her eyes. She had to be strong for Sam and Jenny.

  Sam was hobbling the team horses when she reached their campsite. Instinctively, she moved forward to help him. She lifted a bucket of water for the horses to drink. "You do that just like Papa did," she said encouragingly.

  "No, I don't," he answered, knowing his sister was trying to bolster his courage. "Not yet, any way." His shoulders straightened, and he met her gaze. "But I'll learn, because I helped Papa plenty of times."

  Sam was so much like their father, with the same soft brown eyes, and the same smile that made a person want to smile back. His dark hair fell in an unruly manner across his forehead, and he needed a haircut. At thirteen, Sam came only to her chin, but her father had claimed that Sam would do most of his growing in his sixteenth year, just as he had.

  Sam watched Casey closely as he asked, "Did Mr. Grimshaw agree to let us stay with the wagon train?"

  "Not yet. But I think... I hope he'll change his mind. He's a reasonable man."

  Casey moved on to the next horse with the water bucket while her brother tightened the tether rope.

  "What if he refuses?"

  She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to sit down and quit, but she couldn't. She turned and faced Sam squarely. "Then we'll go on to Texas on our own. I want you to start practicing with the rifle tomorrow. I know Papa taught you to fire it, but you need to be good enough to hit what you're shooting at."

  "Are you scared, Casey?"

  "Yes, I am," she admitted, because she thought Sam deserved complete honesty from her. She set the bucket on the ground and ruffled his hair.

  "But I'm a Hamilton, and we Hamiltons don't give in to fear, and we don't give up-ever!"

  He nodded and looked at her hopefully. "Then we go on regardless."

  "Regardless," she answered solemnly, wrapping her arms around him.

  When Sam moved away, Casey dropped her head in her hands, feeling as if the world were crushing down on her.

  It was quiet throughout the camp, except for an occasional whinny from restless horses. The storm that had hung over them all day had moved on, allowing soft moonlight to filter in through the canvas flap and fall on her little sister's face as she lay curled up next to Casey. Casey felt her heart swell with love for the tiny girl who had never known the mother who died the night of her birth. Now her father was dead as well.

  The child was too young to understand the tragedies that had touched her life. Jenny had asked several times today why their father wasn't with them, but so far, Casey had managed to guide her questions in a different direction, because she just didn't know what to tell the child.

  Casey had been only fourteen at the time of her mother's death; since then, she had tried to teach her brother and sister some of the things her mother would have wanted them to know. In truth, she could not imagine loving her own children any more than she loved Sam and jenny.

  And she was the only mother jenny had ever known. She had to be strong for all of them.

  Just the night before Sam had started sleeping under the wagon, with their father's rifle by his side. Casey had tried to comfort him since their father died, but Sam would have none of it. She realized that he was trying, in his own way, to assume responsibility as the man of the family.

  With troubles weighing heavily on her mind, Casey was still awake whe
n the first light of dawn filtered through the wagon flap. As quietly as possible, she dressed and crept out of the wagon in search of Mr. Grimshaw. As she approached his campsite, she found him shaving. He smiled at her reflection in the mirror he'd hung from a tree branch.

  "I'd have bet money that yours would be the first face I saw this morning, Miss Hamilton. You have the look of someone who is ready to dig her heels in and do battle."

  She stared back at him. "Do I have to do battle with you?" she asked crisply.

  He snapped his razor shut and slowly turned toward her. "If I let you stay with the wagon train, you'll have to keep up. If you lag behind, I will leave you. The rest of these people are going on to California, and they don't want anyone holding them up."

  Casey saw the fixed expression on his face, and she knew he meant what he said. "You won't have to worry about us."

  "Miss Hamilton, I have to get these people safely through, and to do that, I've got to beat the winter storms in the Sierra Nevadas-if that means leaving you behind, I'll do it."

  Casey could hardly contain her excitement, but she managed to speak past the lump that had formed in her throat. "You needn't worry about us, Mr. Grimshaw-we'll keep up with the rest of you. You'll see."

  "You know, I just bet you will." His grudging smile turned into a boisterous laugh. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet my last two bits on it."

  It had been a week since they had split off from the wagon train at Cimarron Crossing. There had been many tearful good-byes with people they would never see again, people who had become almost like family to them.

  Casey knew she would miss Mr. Grimshaw. He was a man she had grown to like and respect. It was frightening to go out on their own, but so far, they had met with no mishaps. The only person they had come across had been a grizzly old buffalo hunter who lingered with them long enough to have five cups of coffee before he rode off into the night. Jenny looked upon their situation as a new adventure, while Sam, who was ever vigilant, kept his rifle beside him at all times.