The Texan's Bride by Geralyn Dawson Read Free Book Online Page B

fiddler sure made the strings sizzle.” He chuckled, remembering. “Rob danced with every pretty girl there and even some of the ugly ones. He told me that if he’d known turnin’ seventeen could be so much fun, he’d have done it sooner.”
    Branch absently rearranged his cards, reflecting that his brother’s dancing days were done. I’ll find the bastard who did this, Rob, I swear it .
    Bell sipped at his drink and commented, “You were thirteen.”
    “No, fourteen. My birthday was two days before Rob’s. Not many people knew it.”
    Conversation ceased as the men stared at the cards in their hands. Bell frowned and tossed a coin onto the table, but his next words proved the direction of his thoughts. “Hoss was wrong, Branch. Terribly wrong. I know that in his mind he recognizes it. I believe that he has been looking for a way to bring you home for years. The problem is that you two are so much alike. That damnable Garrett pride is keeping you apart. This is your chance, son, seize it. Be the better man. Forgive him.”
    Branch turned his head away and stared into the flames dancing in the hearth, the memory of a blaze in another time, another place, searing his heart. How different a life would he have lived if the fire in Virginia had never happened, if his mother and grandparents had not met their deaths when Eagle’s Nest burned?
    Certainly Branch would not now be a Texian. Hoss Garrett joined the many Southerners who painted GTT — Gone To Texas—on their front doors only because he fled painful remembrances. Hoss and his sons would not have established Riverrun. Branch wouldn’t have been banished from his home. Rob wouldn’t have died in East Texas.
    Hell, why waste his time wondering about it? What’s done is done. Nothing could bring Rob back to life.
    But Branch could return to Riverrun.
    When he spoke, his voice betrayed his emotion solely by the flatness of its tone. “Hoss’s bellow rose above the music and laughter, everybody heard. Do you remember, William? I’d ridden his prized thoroughbred trying to impress Eleanor, and he cursed me for it, condemned me before all of South Texas. He declared his hatred of me and demanded that my friends and family hate me too.”
    “Branch, he may have said that, but no one—”
    “William, we talked about this before when you ran me to ground at the Colby’s ranch. I took only my nickname and my mother’s maiden name when I left Riverrun that night. I’ve done fine with my life up till now. Why should I want to change? I’ve got a good thing going here at Gallagher’s.”
    He looked toward the door through which Katie had exited moments earlier. “In fact, I’m presently embroiled in a skirmish that’s making life more interesting than it’s been for quite some time. Maybe I’ll forget what brought me here and simply enjoy myself instead.”
    “You won’t.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Because you loved your brother. Because even if you choose not to admit it to yourself, you love your father.”
    Branch’s words blazed across the table. “Go to hell, William.” His chair banged against the floor and he stomped outside into the bitter winter night.
     
    ABOVE THE small clearing the thinnest of homed moons hung in the west, and stars died beneath the dawning light of day. Under the cold air a rounded roll of fog followed the twists and turns of the creek that meandered across the meadow, while at the forest’s edge, indigo shadows hid from sight the tearing, splintering progress of a tree choosing the moment of dawn to crash to an ignoble end.
    As daylight burst upon the land, thirteen-year-old Keeper McShane peered furtively at the motley collection of humanity gathered around Regulator leader, Colonel Watt Moorman. Goramighty, Keeper thought. It’s a good thing it was dark when I got here, or I’d a been pure-dee scared of these creepy-crawly folks.
    At least thirty men and horses now crowded into the small clearing. Grubby