Free Texas Homecoming by Leigh Greenwood Page A

grandmother hadn’t explained just what had happened to these unfortunate women, but Pilar believed they’d probably been forced to marry someone of less than noble birth or suitable fortune. In her grandmother’s estimation, a woman couldn’t suffer a worse fate.
    But Pilar was in no danger of being forced to marryCade, even if she flirted outrageously. Their relationship as enemies was so well defined and of such long standing, nothing could change it. She could be reckless in perfect safety.
    She’d just decided that Cade would be her target when she heard a mournful howl from Bullet, followed quickly by a couple of rifle shots. She snatched up a shawl, threw it over her shoulders, and ran out of her bedroom to the kitchen. She looked through the windows.
    Moonlight enabled her to see the bunkhouse. Bullet was still howling, but she couldn’t see him. She saw the bunkhouse door open and a rifle barrel appear, followed soon after by Earl in his long johns. Despite the potential danger, she smiled at the sight of his spider-thin shanks as he scurried across the yard in the direction of the shots.
    “What is it?” her grandmother asked from the doorway of her bedroom.
    “I don’t know. I’ll find out.”
    “Stay inside. It could be squatters.”
    “It could also be Cade coming back.”
    “In the middle of the night?”
    “He said they rode during the night for most of the war. Working at night is probably normal for him.”
    “That may be, but it’s even more reason for you to remain out of sight.” Her grandmother started in on her litany of Wheeler sins, but Pilar opened the door and slipped onto the porch, ignoring the fact that only a shawl covered her bare shoulders.
    Jessie emerged from the bunkhouse carrying a rifle.
    “Is it Cade?” she called out.
    “It could be anybody,” he replied in a loud whisper. “Stay at the house.” Then he disappeared.
    The ranch yard looked bleached and colorless in themoonlight, shadows deep black, everything else milky pale. The silence felt deeper, bigger, stronger than usual. The night seemed to reach out and wrap itself around her, welcoming yet ominous. What should have been a familiar landscape had become strange, its features nearly unrecognizable.
    Bullet was getting closer all the time. His howls changed into a series of yelps that progressed to a whine. Finally he burst forth with an agitated “yip-yip” that caused Pilar to fear he’d been injured by one of the shots.
    “What the hell are you doing to my dog!” Earl’s angry voice carried easily through the night as Broc came into view down the trail. He strode openly, clearly not worried about hidden danger. Behind him, a rope around his neck, trotted a dispirited and reluctant Bullet.
    “I’m bringing this damned hound dog to you,” Broc replied, clearly irritated. “You ought to lock him up in the bunkhouse.”
    “I’m not locking him up anywhere,” Earl said, darting from behind the bunkhouse. “He’s the best watchdog in Texas.”
    Broc dragged Bullet into the ranch yard before taking the rope from his neck. “He might have heard the squatters before you did, but he wasn’t warning you. He was begging you to protect him. That dog is yella!”
    Pilar thought Earl would have a seizure right there. He charged Broc like a longhorn cow in defense of her calf, waving his rifle at him like a pointed finger.
    “If you wasn’t a guest in my house, I’d put a bullet in you. There’s not a better dog in Texas.”
    “Then God help Texas.” Broc pushed a cringing Bullet toward Earl. “There was somebody in one of those dry creek beds. I heard him without the help of your
watchdog.
I was about to try to get behind him when that
animal
started howling like he’d stepped on a cactus.”
    “He was trying to warn you, you fool,” Earl shouted.
    “The cowardly bag of bones poked his nose in my belly and practically crawled under me.”
    “That’s his way of waking you up,” Earl