Texas Brides Collection Read online

  “Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson. I appreciate your tolerance of my bad manners. Will you still be joining Pa and me in the morning?”

  He swallowed hard and attempted to gather his wits. “Yes, ma’am. I’d be honored.”

  Serena glanced at her pa, and he nodded his approval. She sat down to finish her meal, but Chet noticed she picked at her food. Odd, he didn’t feel so hungry anymore either. He sneaked a peek at James’s daughter. Yeah, she looked way too skinny for him, but she did have a right pretty face.

  Serena gave up trying to sleep. Chet’s words echoed through her mind like a herd of horses stampeding across the dry plains. He hadn’t noticed her as anything more than James Talbot’s little girl. Even worse, when he got ready to settle down, he wanted a big, strong woman. Humph, strength didn’t necessarily mean size. Hadn’t Pa taught her those things? Strength meant courage in the face of danger or when she needed to stand for her beliefs. It meant trusting God to see her through bad times and thinking things through with her head and heart—not her muscles. Just because she didn’t have much meat on her bones didn’t mean she lacked gumption. It would serve Ranger Chet just fine to saddle himself with some huge woman who’d run from her own shadow.

  Oh, Lord, could You make Chet see I’m strong enough to be a ranger’s wife? Amen. And Lord, You probably need to change Pa’s mind about me marrying up with a ranger.

  Tossing on the straw pallet in her tiny room, she heard Chet snoring in the kitchen.

  Good for him; glad he can sleep.

  She cast aside his dismissal of her and tried to convince herself he didn’t matter. But he did. Fighting the urge to cry, she focused on the following morning and Dugan Niall’s palomino.

  Staring up at the darkness, she couldn’t help but feel excitement about the mare. What a wonderful birthday present. She’d never dreamed of such a fine horse. Pa and the other rangers took special pride in their mounts. A good horse often meant the difference between living and dying. Although she treasured the love from Pa for his generous gift, it didn’t stop the ache in her heart for Chet.

  Serena finally found a few hours’ sleep before she woke to fix breakfast. Staring out the small window of her room, she saw a glaze of pink and gold ushering in the dawn. She quickly dressed, then remembered Chet was sleeping in the same room where she’d be cooking.

  She told herself she had nothing to be wary about. He had insulted her, not the other way around, and, besides, he didn’t know her feelings about him. Still, they were both bound to feel uncomfortable around each other, and Serena realized she needed to make things right.

  Stealing into the kitchen, Serena tied an apron twice around her waist. Someday she would pile enough weight on her bones to secure it in back like a normal woman. She studied Chet sleeping on the floor and struggled with wanting to kick him or allow him to rest peacefully.

  Pulling her gaze from the blanket-clad figure, she mentally calculated what she needed for breakfast. Due to the quickly rising temperatures, she welcomed the task of frying bacon, baking biscuits, and boiling coffee outside over an open fire. They might eat there, too, which would be a refreshing way to start the day. On second thought, Pa shared enough meals under an open sky. He’d prefer sitting around the table inside. After all, she’d promised him a good breakfast.

  The idea of eggs floating in a pool of bacon grease would be an added treat, and the chickens had been laying good. Ma told her she could use all of the eggs she wanted.

  Grinning with satisfaction, Serena collected matches, the coffeepot, and the empty water bucket before moving outside to gather dry wood. Not long afterwards, a fire crackled and spit. She loved the smell of wood burning and the sight of sunrise faintly splitting the darkness. A rooster perched on the well top and crowed. He peered about as if to make sure every living creature had heard him. Serena laughed as the birds seemed to sing a little louder in answer to the rooster’s call.

  A trip into the cabin produced a skillet filled with thick slices of bacon and peeled potatoes ready for her to slice into a second skillet. She’d already mixed up the biscuit dough and silently kneaded it before cutting the huge rounds.

  “Can I help you, Miss Serena?” Chet whispered from his position on the floor.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine,” she replied in the same soft tone and immediately felt her heart race with the low sound of his voice. “Sorry to wake you.”

  “I’ve been awake. Hard to sleep in when you’re used to rising before dawn.”

  She said nothing else but took the bacon-filled skillet outside, knowing she’d be back inside the cabin at least two more times to bring out the other skillet and biscuits. While at the fire, Serena checked the coffeepot and inhaled the aroma of freshly ground coffee.

  “Here, I brought these for you,” came a voice from behind her.

  Startled, she whirled around to see Chet carrying the other items she needed. “How nice of you,” she said and smoothed her apron before taking the skillet and the pan of biscuit dough.

  He stood barefooted with his suspenders resting haphazardly on his shoulders, and he’d buttoned his yellowed white shirt wrong with something bulging at his heart. His sun-colored hair lay every which way but flat against his head, more like a boy than a grown man. A second later, his dimpled smile gripped her senses.

  It ought to be a sin for a man to affect a woman so.

  Embarrassed and grateful for the dim light, she pulled a paring knife from her apron pocket to slice the potatoes.

  “Sure I can’t help?”

  “You can eat later,” she said, “and maybe have a little coffee now.”

  Chet produced a tin mug from inside his shirt. “I hoped you had it ready. Can I sit and talk a spell?”

  “Of course.” While he settled down into the dew-covered grass and leaned back on his hands, she prepared her words. “Mr. Wilkinson—”

  “Chet. My friends call me by my given name.”

  She took a ragged breath. “All right, Chet. I did a bad thing to you last night, and I am truly sorry.”

  “Naw, it’s me who wronged you.” He shook his head. “Funny how a man can earn a reputation as a Texas Ranger or a preachin’ ranger or a big talker and still make a fool out of himself in front of a woman. Leastways, I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

  “I know.”

  “So can we go back to being friends?”

  How could she refuse? Masking her sinking spirits with a flair for teasing, she eyed him suspiciously. “Aren’t you afraid I might poison your coffee?”

  “Would you do that to me?”

  She lifted the pot from the fire, and he held out his mug. “A skinny little girl like me has to fight back any way she can.”

  He grinned and it eased her ruffled feelings.

  She slid the coffeepot back onto the burning embers. “You know what Pa used to tell me?” she asked, poking at the fire with a thick stick and sending sparks into the slowly lifting blanket of night.

  “Hard to tell with the cap’n.”

  “He told me if Indians attacked the cabin while he was gone, that I could hide myself behind a fence post.”

  Chet laughed heartily. At least she could lighten his morning with a little humor.

  “Be back in a minute. Got to get my eggs.” Serena headed toward the cabin.

  “I can tote ’em out here for you,” he called after her.

  “No, sir. I don’t want them broke before I fry them.”

  He chuckled, and she felt better since supper the night before. A lot of truth in freeing a body from sin.

  Inside, Serena found Ma bustling about the kitchen, placing plates and cups on the table. She stopped and watched Serena. “Honey, you don’t need to be fixing breakfast all by yourself.”

  “I told Pa I wanted to last night.”

  “I know, but I slept a mite longer than I intended.”

  “Good,” Serena said. “You don’t rest well when Pa’s gone.” She picked up the egg basket alon
g with a platter to pile on the meat and eggs.

  “Serena?” Her questioning voice sounded soft and tender.

  She glanced up into Ma’s face in reply.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for Chet?” she asked, placing a hand on Serena’s shoulder.

  Avoiding Ma’s eyes, she shrugged. “Seemed like a secret thing, and I needed to keep it to myself.”

  “But we’ve always been able to talk.”

  For a moment, Serena felt like releasing all of her pent-up emotions in her mother’s arms. “I didn’t mean to hold anything from you. It just seemed too personal to tell anyone—not Moira or even you.”

  “Can we talk after he and your pa leave?”

  Serena felt unsure of her answer. Talking about it wouldn’t change a thing. “Are you going to tell Pa?”

  “Not unless he asks, and he’s said nary a word.” She offered a smile, and Serena returned the gesture. “Certain things only a woman can know.”

  Only a woman can know. She spoke the right words. “All right, Ma. We can talk.” Serena turned and opened the door. She gasped. In the pale daylight, a huge, wild boar stood between Chet and the cabin.

  Instantly, she set the basket of eggs and the platter on the rough-sawn table and reached for Pa’s rifle leaning against the fireplace. Pulling it up to her shoulder, she rushed outside.

  “James, come quick,” her ma said. “Serena, wait on your pa.”

  Chet waved his hands above his head. “Serena, don’t come any closer. It’ll tear you apart.”

  Ignoring first her ma’s warnings and now Chet’s, she knew exactly what to do. Suddenly, the boar took an unexpected turn in her direction and barreled forward.

  Chapter 3

  The boar raced straight toward her. Serena faintly heard her mother’s cries and another shout from Chet, but she had her focus dead center between the animal’s eyes. She squeezed the trigger. Rifle fire echoed and the boar fell six feet in front of her in a puddle of blood.

  Instantly, Chet stood by her side, clearly amazed. “You got him right square between the eyes.” His face had paled, and he looked a bit angry.

  Serena blinked. “I know. That’s where I aimed.”

  He poked the boar with his boot. “Who taught you to shoot like this?”

  “I did,” James boomed from the doorway of the cabin. “Good shot, Serena. You didn’t flinch once.”

  Serena beamed. “Thanks, Pa. I tried to remember everything you taught me, but it took me by surprise when it barged forward.”

  “Couldn’t have handled it better myself.”

  She adored her father’s praise. “You hungry? I just about have breakfast ready.”

  “Nigh starved,” her pa replied. A grin spread across his full face, as he wrapped his arms around Ma’s waist.

  Serena glanced at her ma, trembling beneath Pa’s firm hold. Her grim expression left no question as to the fear she’d felt.

  “She’s fine,” Pa said, obviously realizing Ma’s apprehension. “She can handle a rifle better than most men.”

  Ma nodded and sniffed, blinking back tears. “There’s a few things about our daughter, James Talbot, that I wish she hadn’t gotten from you.”

  Chet cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I can understand your fright, but I’m glad she has her pa’s eye and smooth pull on the trigger. Thank you, Miss Serena. I’ve been in a lot of dangerous places, but taking on a boar didn’t rank among them. Praise God for your shootin’.”

  His words broke the tension flaring around them, and Ma laughed and cried at the same time.

  “I’ll get this overgrown pig out of the way so we can eat,” Pa said. He released her ma and walked toward the dead animal, passing along a wink to Serena.

  She handed his rifle to him, and he squeezed her hand. Fighting the urge to take a quick glimpse at Chet, she moved toward her ma, still quivering in the doorway. They held each other without uttering a word. Ma had been right; certain things only a woman could know, and Serena had just earned a note of admiration from Chet.

  Once breakfast and chores were completed, Serena rode with Pa and Chet to Dugan Niall’s. She felt completely immersed in the hill country around them—the cedars dressed in blue-green leaves and gnarly post oaks with an occasional mesquite tree. She admired patches of orange trumpet-shaped wildflowers, purple wide-leafed petals, and a host of yellow beauties. She listened to the singing insects and calling mockingbirds as they offered their lulling songs, but Serena knew the dangers of the land—more powerful than any wild animal.

  Three races of proud people claimed Texas: the Mexicans, despite the war for independence; the Apache and Comanche Indians; and the proud Texans. She’d long ago decided whoever fought the hardest would have the vast land. Pa told her once if he’d been Mexican, he’d be fighting for them, and if he’d been born an Indian, he’d be warring alongside the red man. Lucky for Texas, James Talbot was a white man and believed in the Rangers.

  “God did a pretty good job out here,” Chet said, squinting as he stared up at a robin’s-egg-colored sky. “No wonder the land’s restless; everyone wants a piece of it.”

  “No matter the cost,” Pa said. “He made Texas for those willing to die for it—or defend it like we do.”

  “Some folks claim we rangers are of the devil,” Chet said, “but they sure call us angels when there’s trouble.”

  Pa chuckled. “ ’Cause we aren’t afraid of anything—leastways, nothing we show. The only thing I hate is leaving my family so much. Guess I’m lucky Rachel knew my commitment to the Texas Rangers when we met. Sometimes it’s right hard to push thoughts of her and Serena away when we’re in the thick of things.” He lowered his gaze at Chet. “You listen to me, now. God’s done me a fair amount of blessings, but this is a life for a single man. Your head can’t be clouded with anything but the job at hand.”

  Serena listened intently. Pa seldom talked so freely, and she knew every word meant something important. The only thing was she didn’t like what he had to say. Oh, he spoke the truth about wits and clearheaded thinking keeping the rangers alive and winning, but the yearning in her heart for Chet couldn’t subside so easily. If Chet ever decided to look her way, he’d have to deal with Pa. Some said the devil could be more obliging than James Talbot when he was riled.

  Lord, if me and Chet are supposed to be together, then let it happen. I’m already a Texas Ranger’s daughter, and I can be a good ranger’s wife. With Your help he could be right proud of me.

  Dugan Niall met them as they rode up. He grinned from ear to ear. Most likely he anticipated the sale of his palomino and a stallion to Chet. Moira accompanied him along with a dozen other rusty-headed siblings.

  “Aye, James, Chet, and Serena. Ya do me pleasure by stoppin’ by. Is it the palomino you came for?” Dugan’s Irish brogue sounded musical, and his wild, fiery-red hair and beard were a colorful match to his character.

  “We sure are,” her pa replied, lifting his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow. “I want to give the mare to Serena before her birthday.” He waved at the Niall clan. “Mornin’, all you rooster tails.”

  They loved Pa’s teasing and greeted him all at once.

  Dugan’s eyes twinkled, and he laughed till his round belly jiggled beneath his suspenders. “And you, Chet, do ya still have an eye for me stallion?”

  “I’m just looking today, but I’m looking hard.”

  Dugan’s mirth roared above the treetops. “First let’s have some coffee. Me wife has just made a fresh pot.”

  Serena and Moira stayed outside, knowing the men would be talking awhile. The two walked to the corral, where a half dozen fine horses grazed.

  “Why’s Mr. Wilkinson with you?” Moira asked, her brown eyes dancing.

  “He and Pa are riding out in the morning,” Serena replied, hoping her friend thought Chet’s presence meant nothing to her.

  “He’s a mighty handsome man,” Moira continued, her gaze lingering on the cabin door t
hen back to the horses. “I’d give anything to have hair as yellow as his.”

  Serena frowned. “Your pa would skin you alive if he knew you were contemplating a ranger.”

  “Yours, too. But they’re right. Rangers live too hard a life for us. Besides…” She clasped her hands behind the back of her green print dress and teetered on her heels.

  “Besides what?” Serena asked, feeling a giggle rise in her throat.

  “Aaron Kent’s been calling.”

  Clasping her hand to her mouth, Serena tried to stifle her enthusiasm. “Since when? How long has this been going on?” Aaron Kent had been widowed about a year, and he had two small young’uns to raise.

  “Three times now—and I’m not saying another word.”

  Serena couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s serious face—the same round face as her pa’s, beautiful skin, and huge brown eyes. “Oh, you have never been able to keep secrets from me. And Aaron Kent is a good man, Moira, and easy to look at.”

  Moira blushed from her neck to her eyes. “He wants to talk to Pa.”

  The two girls hugged and, with no one in earshot, began to plan Moira’s wedding.

  An hour later, Dugan and Chet settled on a price for a chestnut stallion to be picked up after the ranger’s next pay, and Serena rode her palomino home. Pa paid a fine price for the mare, and the horse acted frisky enough to please Serena.

  She patted the mare on its neck. “Pa, I know I said this before, but I really appreciate this horse. I’ll take good care of her.”

  His dark blue eyes peered into hers. “I know you will. That’s why she’s yours.”

  Serena treasured the proud look in her pa’s eyes. As a little girl, she’d lived for his special look and smile meant only for her. Now, she wished Chet would show some kind of affection. Certainly, she wouldn’t have to save him from a wild boar again to get him to notice her.