Long, Tall Texan Legacy Page 4

  “And she did,” he added with a chuckle, darting a look over his broad shoulder. “Her father told me I must keep her occupied to keep her happy, so I turned the stables over to her.”

  “Quite a revolution of sorts in our part of the country, I must add,” Mrs. Maxwell confessed. “But the lads finally learned who had the whip hand, and now they do what I say.”

  “We have the finest stable around,” Maxwell agreed. “We haven’t lost a race yet.”

  “When I have more horses, you must come and teach my partners how to train them,” John told Mrs. Maxwell.

  “And didn’t I tell you that people would not be stuffy and arrogant here in Texas?” she asked her husband.

  “I must agree, they are not.”

  “Well, two of them, at least,” John murmured dryly. “There,” he said suddenly, pointing out across a grassy pasture. “That is my land.”

  All three heads turned. In the distance was the big cabin, surrounded by pecan and oak trees and not very visible. But around it were red-and-white-coated cattle, grazing in between barbed wire fences.

  “It is fenced!” Maxwell exclaimed.

  “Fencing is what keeps the outlaws out and my cattle in,” John said, used to defending his fences. “Many people dislike this new barbed wire, but it is the most economical way to contain my herds. And I don’t have a great deal of capital to work with.”

  “You are an honest man,” Maxwell said. “You did not have to admit such a thing to a stranger.”

  “It is because you are a stranger that I can do it,” John said amusedly. “I would never admit to being poor around my own countrymen. A man has his pride. However, I intend to be the richest landowner hereabouts in a few years. So you must plan to come back to Texas. I can promise you will be very welcome as houseguests.”

  “If I am able, I will,” Maxwell agreed. “So we must keep in touch.”

  “Indeed we must. We will trade addresses before you leave town. But for now,” John added, “make a left turn at this next crossroads, and I will show you a mill, where we take our corn to be ground into meal.”

  “We have mills at home, but I should like to see yours,” Mrs. Maxwell enthused.

  “And so you shall,” John promised.

  Chapter Three

  TWO HOURS LATER, tired and thirsty, the tourists returned to the livery stable to return the horses and surrey.

  “It has been a pleasure,” John told the Maxwells, shaking hands.

  “And for me, as well,” Ellen added.

  The older couple smiled indulgently. “We leave for New York in the morning,” Maxwell said regretfully, “and then we sail to Scotland. It has been a pleasure to meet you both, although I wish we could have done so sooner.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Maxwell said solemnly. “How sad to make friends just as we must say goodbye to them.”

  “We will keep in touch,” John said.

  “Indeed we will. You must leave your address for us at the desk, and we will leave ours for you,” Maxwell told John. “When you have made your fortune, I hope very much to return with my wife to visit you both.”

  Ellen flushed, because she had a sudden vivid picture of herself with John and several children on a grand estate. John was seeing the same picture. He grinned broadly. “We will look forward to it,” he said to them both.

  The Maxwells went up to their rooms and John stopped with Ellen at the foot of the stairs, because it would have been unseemly for a gentleman to accompany a lady all the way to her bedroom.

  He took her hand in his and held it firmly. “I enjoyed today,” he said. “Even in company, you are unique.”

  “As you are.” She smiled up at him from a radiant face surrounded by wisps of loose dark hair that had escaped her bun and the hatpins that held on her wide-brimmed hat.

  “We must make sure that we build a proper empire,” he teased, “so that the Maxwells can come back to visit.”

  “I shall do my utmost to assist you,” she replied with teasing eyes.

  He chuckled. “I have no doubt of that.”

  “I will see you tomorrow?” she fished.

  “Indeed you will. It will be in the afternoon, though,” he added regretfully. “I must help move cattle into a new pasture first. It is very dry and we must shift them closer to water.”

  “Good evening, then,” she said gently.

  “Good evening.” He lifted her hand to his lips in a gesture he’d learned in polite company during his travels.

  It had a giddy effect on Ellen. She blushed and laughed nervously and almost stumbled over her own feet going up the staircase.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, righting herself.

  “Not to worry,” John assured her, hat in hand, green eyes brimming with mirth. “See?” He looked around his feet and back up at her. “No mud puddles!”

  She gave him an exasperated, but amused, look, and went quickly up the staircase. When she made the landing, he was still there, watching.

  * * *

  JOHN AND ELLEN SAW EACH other daily for a week, during which they grew closer. Ellen waited for John in the hotel dining room late the next Friday afternoon, but to her dismay, it was not John who walked directly to her table. It was her father, home unexpectedly early. Nor was he smiling.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down, motioning imperiously to a waiter, from whom he ordered coffee and nothing else.

  “You are home early,” Ellen stammered.

  “I am home to prevent a scandal!” he replied curtly. “I’ve had word from an acquaintance of Sir Sydney’s that you were seen flagrantly defying my instructions that you should stay in this hotel during my absence! You have been riding, in the country, alone, with Mr. Jacobs! How dare you create a scandal here!”

  The Ellen of only a week ago would have bowed her head meekly and agreed never to disobey him again. But her association with John Jacobs had already stiffened her backbone. He had offered her a new life, a free life, away from the endless social conventions and rules of conduct that kept her father so occupied.

  She lifted her eyebrows with hauteur. “And what business of Sir Sydney’s friend is my behavior?” she wanted to know.

  Her father’s eyes widened in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I have no intention of being coupled with Sir Sydney in any way whatsoever,” she informed him. “In fact, the man is repulsive and ill-mannered.”

  It was a rare hint of rebellion, one of just a few he had ever seen in Ellen. He just stared at her, confused and amused, all at once.

  “It would seem that your acquaintance with Mr. Jacobs is corrupting you.”

  “I intend to be further corrupted,” she replied coolly. “He has asked me to marry him.”

  “Child, that is out of the question,” he said sharply.

  She held up a dainty hand. “I am no child,” she informed him, blue eyes flashing. “I am a woman grown. Most of my friends are married with families of their own. I am a spinster, an encumbrance to hear you tell it, of a sort whom men do not rush to escort. I am neither pretty nor accomplished…”

  “You are quite wealthy,” he inserted bluntly. “Which is, no doubt, why Mr. Jacobs finds you so attractive.”

  In fact, it was a railroad spur, not money, that John wanted, but she wasn’t ready to tell her father that. Let him think what he liked. She knew that John Jacobs found her attractive. It gave her confidence to stand up to her parent for the first time in memory.

  “You may disinherit me whenever you like,” she said easily, sipping coffee with a steady hand. Her eyes twinkled. “I promise you, it will make no difference to him. He is the sort of man who builds empires from nothing more than hard work and determination. In time, his fortune will rival yours, I daresay.”

  Terrance Colby was listening now, not blustering. “You are considering his proposal.”

  She nodded, smiling. “He has painted me a delightful picture of muddy roads, kitchen gardens, heavy labor, cooking over open fires
and branding cattle.” She chuckled. “In fact, he has offered to let me help him brand cattle in the fall when his second crop of calves drop.”

  Terrance caught his breath. He waited to speak until the waiter brought his coffee. He glowered after the retreating figure. “I should have asked for a teacup of whiskey instead,” he muttered to himself. His eyes went back to his daughter’s face. “Brand cattle?”

  She nodded. “Ride horses, shoot a gun…he offered to teach me no end of disgusting and socially unacceptable forms of recreation.”

  He sat back with an expulsion of breath. “I could have him arrested.”

  “For what?” she replied.

  He was disconcerted by the question. “I haven’t decided yet. Corrupting a minor,” he ventured.

  “I am far beyond the age of consent, Father,” she reminded him. She sipped coffee again. “You may disinherit me at will. I will not even need the elegant wardrobes you have purchased for me. I will wear dungarees and high-heeled boots.”

  His look of horror was now all-consuming. “You will not! Remember your place, Ellen!”

  Her eyes narrowed. “My place is what I say it is. I am not property, to be sold or bartered for material gain!”

  He was formulating a reply when the sound of heavy footfalls disturbed him into looking up. John Jacobs was standing just to his side, wearing his working gear, including that sinister revolver slung low in a holster slanted across his lean hips.

  “Ah,” Colby said curtly. “The villain of the piece!”

  “I am no villain,” John replied tersely. He glanced at Ellen with budding feelings of protectiveness. She looked flushed and angry. “Certainly, I have never given Ellen such pain as that I see now on her face.” He looked back at Colby with a cold glare.

  Colby began to be impressed. This steely young man was not impressed by either his wealth or position when Ellen was distressed.

  “Do you intend to call me out?” he asked John.

  The younger man glanced again at Ellen. “It would be high folly to kill the father of my prospective bride,” he said finally. “Of course, I don’t have to kill you,” he added, pursing his lips and giving Colby’s shoulder a quiet scrutiny. “I could simply wing you.”

  Colby’s gaze went to that worn pistol butt. “Do you know how to shoot that hog leg?”

  “I could give you references,” John drawled. “Or a demonstration, if you prefer.”

  Colby actually laughed. “I imagine you could. Stop bristling like an angry dog and sit down, Mr. Jacobs. I have ridden hard to get here, thinking my daughter was about to be seduced by a bounder. And I find only an honest suitor who would fight even her own father to protect her. I am quite impressed. Do sit down,” he emphasized. “That gentleman by the window looks fit to jump through it. He has not taken his eyes off your gun since you approached me!”

  John’s hard face broke into a sheepish grin. He pulled out a chair and sat down close to Ellen, his green eyes soft now and possessive as they sketched her flushed, happy face. He smiled at her, tenderly.

  Colby ordered coffee for John as well and then sat back to study the determined young man.

  “She said you wish to teach her to shoot a gun and brand cattle,” Colby began.

  “If she wants to, yes,” John replied. “I assume you would object…?”

  Colby chuckled. “My grandmother shot a gun and once chased a would-be robber down the streets of a North Carolina town with it. She was a local legend.”

  “You never told me!” Ellen exclaimed.

  He grimaced. “Your mother was very straitlaced, Ellen, like your grandmother Greene,” he said. “She wanted no image of my unconventional mother to tempt you into indiscretion.” He pursed his lips and chuckled. “Apparently blood will out, as they say.” He looked at her with kind eyes. “You have been pampered all your life. Nothing that money could buy has ever been beyond your pocket. It will not be such a life with this man,” he indicated John. “Not for a few years, at least,” he added with a chuckle. “You remind me of myself, Mr. Jacobs. I did not inherit my wealth. I worked as a farm laborer in my youth,” he added, shocking his daughter. “I mucked out stables and slopped hogs for a rich man in our small North Carolina town. There were eight of us children, and no money to be handed down. When I was twelve, I jumped on a freight train and was arrested in New York when I was found in a stock car. I was taken to the manager’s office where the owner of the railroad had chanced to venture on a matter of business. I was rude and arrogant, but he must have seen something in me that impressed him. He had a wife, but no children. He took me home with him, had his wife clean me up and dress me properly, and I became his adoptive child. When he died, he left the business to me. By then, I was more than capable of running it.”

  “Father!” Ellen exclaimed. “You never spoke of your parents. I had no idea…!”

  “My parents died of typhoid soon after I left the farm,” he confessed. “My brothers and sisters were taken in by cousins. When I made my own fortune, I made sure that they were provided for.”

  “You wanted a son,” she said sorrowfully, “to inherit what you had. And all you got was me.”

  “Your mother died giving birth to a stillborn son,” he confessed. “You were told that she died of a fever, which is partially correct. I felt that you were too young for the whole truth. And your maternal grandmother was horrified when I thought to tell you. Grandmother Greene is very correct and formal.” He sighed. “When she knows what you have done, I expect she will be here on the next train to save you, along with however many grandsons she can convince to accompany her.”

  She nodded slowly, feeling nervous. “She is formidable.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a son, but I do like little girls,” John said with a warm smile. “I won’t mind if we have daughters.”

  She flushed, embarrassed.

  “Let us speak first of marriage, if you please,” Colby said with a wry smile. “What would you like for a wedding present, Mr. Jacobs?”

  John was overwhelmed. He hesitated.

  “We would like a spur line run down to our ranch,” Ellen said for him, with a wicked grin. “So that we don’t have to drive our cattle all the way to Kansas to get them shipped to Chicago. We are going to raise extraordinary beef.”

  John sighed. “Indeed we are,” he nodded, watching her with delight.

  “That may take some little time,” Colby mused. “What would you like in the meantime?”

  “A sidesaddle rig for Ellen, so that she can be comfortable in the saddle,” John said surprisingly.

  “I do not want a sidesaddle,” she informed him curtly. “I intend to ride astride, as I have seen other women do since I came here.”

  “I have never seen a woman ride in such a manner!” Colby exploded.

  “She’s thinking of Tess Wallace,” John confessed. “She’s the wife of old man Tick Wallace, who owns the stagecoach line here. She drives the team and even rides shotgun sometimes. He’s twenty years older than she is, but nobody doubts what they feel for each other. She’s crazy for him.”

  “An unconventional woman,” Colby muttered.

  “As I intend to become. You may give me away at the wedding, and it must be a small, intimate one, and very soon,” she added. “I do not wish my husband embarrassed by a gathering of snobby aristocrats.”

  Her father’s jaw dropped. “But the suddenness of the wedding…!”

  “I am sorry, Father, but it will be my wedding, and I feel I have a right to ask for what I wish,” Ellen said stubbornly. “I have done nothing wrong, so I have nothing to fear. Besides,” she added logically, “none of our friends live here, or are in attendance here at the Springs.”

  Her father sighed. “As you wish, my dear,” he said finally, and his real affection for her was evident in the smile he gave her.

  John was tremendously impressed, not only by her show of spirit, but by her consideration for him. He was getting quite a bargain, he thought. Th
en he stopped to ask himself what she was getting, save for a hard life that would age her prematurely, maybe even kill her. He began to frown.

  “It will be a harder life than you realize now,” John said abruptly, and with a scowl. “We have no conveniences at all….”

  “I am not afraid of hard work,” Ellen interrupted.

  John and Colby exchanged concerned glances. They both knew deprivation intimately. Ellen had never been without a maid or the most luxurious accommodations in her entire life.

  “I’ll spare you as much as I can,” John said after a minute. “But most empires operate sparsely at first.”

  “I will learn to cook,” Ellen said with a chuckle.

  “Can you clean a game hen?” her father wanted to know.

  She didn’t waver. “I can learn.”

  “Can you haul water from the river and hoe in a garden?” her father persisted. “Because I have no doubt that you will have to do it.”

  “There will be men to do the lifting,” John promised him. “And we will take excellent care of her, sir.”

  Her father hesitated, but Ellen’s face was stiff with determination. She wasn’t backing down an inch.

  “Very well,” he said on a heavy breath. “But if it becomes too much for you, I want to know,” he added firmly. “You must promise that, or I cannot sanction your wedding.”

  “I promise,” she said at once, knowing that she would never go to him for help.

  He relaxed a little. “Then I will give you a wedding present that will not make your prospective bridegroom chafe too much,” he continued. “I’ll open an account for you both at the mercantile store. You will need dry goods to furnish your home.”

  “Oh, Father, thank you!” Ellen exclaimed.

  John chuckled. “Thank you, indeed. Ellen will be grateful, but I’ll consider it a loan.”

  “Of course, my boy,” Colby replied complacently.

  John knew the man didn’t believe him. But he was capable of building an empire, even if he was the only one at the table who knew it at that moment. He reached over to shake hands with the older man.

  “Within ten years,” he told Colby, “we will entertain you in the style to which you are accustomed.”