Free The Texan's Bride by Geralyn Dawson Page B

to own all of Texas if you’ve got a hankerin’ for it.”
    “How?”
    “Why, make it, of course.”
     
    TRUST ME .
    The words echoed through Katie’s mind. But he betrayed me. Betrayed us. Or had he? I could have ended it right then. The Regulator would be dead. I would be dead. I thought Da and Daniel were dead. Sweet Mother Mary.
    Trust me.
    Katie hung her head in despair. Daniel needed some salve for his cuts. She’d washed his back, but he needed the salve. It would sooth the burn. Five lashes, as best she could tell. A boy, he’s just a boy .
    Another boy had brought well water when she asked. She knew him, she recognized his voice. Keeper McShane. Another boy, frecklefaced beneath that awful hood. She had bought him candy, and now he held a gun on her, on them. She remembered what Branch had said earlier about Texas being a hard land. Perhaps he was right. What kind of country was this where boys suffered from the cruelty of men, where boys acted with the cruelty of men?
    “Mavourneen,” John croaked, interrupting her thoughts. “Water. Please.” Katie lifted the pail to her father’s split and swollen lips. Tears burned her eyes. Da, poor Da . Bruises covered his body. When she could get into the kitchen, she’d get something to bind his ribs. If she ever did get in, that is.
    They’d been in there for an eternity.
    The Regulator leader had left the kitchen once, long enough to send a man after Striker and Branch’s saddlebags and to order all but three of the Regulators back to Nacogdoches. Now, along with Keeper, two men guarded her and her family.
    Keeper seemed nervous. Every few moments he’d shift his pistol from his right hand to his left and wipe his palm on his dirt-streaked trousers. Katie began to wonder who was guarding whom.
    Sweat ran in rivulets down her back. Was it the heat from the fire? The coppery taste of fear wouldn’t leave her mouth. Damn you, Branch Kincaid, what are you doing in my kitchen?
    Trust me.
    The door swung open. The Regulator and Branch stepped outside, both all smiles, the hooded man gripping a handful of what looked like bank notes. Katie watched them walk toward her and was struck by the similarities between the two men.
    Each carried himself with arrogance. Broad of shoulder, a swagger to their steps, they both exuded strength and tenacity. They both could be cruel.
    The Regulator hid behind a mask. Who was he? Where did he live? How did he make his living? Was he a neighbor, a customer, someone she called friend? The thought made her shudder.
    And what of Branch Kincaid? He hid behind that innocent expression and wicked grin. Who was he and why was he at Gallagher’s? He asked her to trust him; did she dare? And heaven help her, he gave her an entirely different kind of shivers.
    The Regulator looked her over, eyes gleaming. “I don’t know, Kincaid. Perhaps I made a mistake including her in the deal. I’ve seen the lady in town before. Calmed down and cleaned up, she’s an attractive woman.”
    Branch shrugged and said nothing.
    Katie couldn’t stop the shudder when the hooded man sat on his haunches and reached for a strand of her hair. He let it slide between his fingers. “Beautiful,” he said. “Silky, a bit of red. What color are the rest of your curls, honey?”
    He grabbed a handful of auburn tresses and wrapped them around his wrist. Yanking her so hard that tears sprang to her eyes, he pulled her to within inches of his masked face. “Come at me again, bitch, and I’ll carve you up so bad that even a blind man can’t stand to look at you.”
    He threw her into the dirt and stood. Keeper retrieved his horse, and taking the reins, the Regulator leader swung into the saddle. The sorrel snorted as he called, “Come on, men. The boss will be waiting in Shelbyville for a report. Let’s ride.”
    Glancing at Branch, he added, “Report to Sheriff Strickland in Nacogdoches in a week, Kincaid. He’s been asking the town council for a deputy,