Jodi Thomas - To Kiss a Texan

When Allie stepped from the house, Wes almost didn’t recognize her. She wore a wine red riding skirt with a jacket and hat to match. Her hair had been curled and tied to one side as Victoria’s had been fifty years ago in the portrait. There could be no doubt to anyone seeing Allie that she was a lady. A fine, beautiful lady. The wild creature had disappeared.

If she’d been smiling, Wes thought, she would have been perfect. But Allie never smiled. He wasn’t sure she even knew how.

‘‘Are you sure you still want to go?’’ he asked as she paused on the step above him. ‘‘Victoria tells me you’ve a home here if you want it.’’ He’d done what he set out to do, he’d found her family. She would someday inherit a ranch far bigger than the Montago spread.

‘‘You said you’d take me back to my cave,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Do you go back on your word?’’

‘‘No. I’ll take you, if that’s what you want.’’ He handed her the reins to her horse. ‘‘Let’s ride.’’

She didn’t say a word as they rode south toward the Guadalupe River. By nightfall, they were both too tired to do more than build a fire and eat the leftovers from the lunch the cook had packed.

Wes knew they should talk, but he didn’t know where to start. It didn’t seem right that he should tell her how he felt without having some inkling of what her feelings were. He wasn’t a man who spilled out his longings like some actor on a stage. And Allie never said anything unless she had to.

He leaned against his saddle and stretched his feet toward the fire, watching as she removed her jacket and hat. ‘‘There’s a cot packed in the supplies, and a tent. I’ll put it up if you like.’’

She shook her head and lifted a blanket from the stack. Without a word, she crossed to his side and lay down beside him.

He pulled her next to him. This might be their last night together, but he didn’t kiss her. Wes just wanted to hold her and remember what she felt like against him. She’d said she wanted to go back. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d beg or even ask again. He’d offered to take her to his ranch more than once, and she’d said no.

Wes fell asleep thinking of all the things he should say to her, but not knowing where to start.

By midafternoon the next day, they reached the Guadalupe River and stopped along its banks for supper. Allie felt her heart pound within her when she recognized the land. Suddenly, she could follow no longer. She raced ahead of Wes.

He seemed to understand and mimicked her movements as she picked her way through familiar landmarks. The trees had been green with late spring when she’d last seen them. Now, winter made the land seem cold and unwelcoming. But Allie could hardly wait to see her cave.

Darkness enclosed them as they reached the clearing that had once been a campsite years ago when the raid came. Now, a tiny thread of a stream cut into the land where once teepees stood. Grass grew over former campsites and the blood of a slain people had been washed away by years of rain.

‘‘We can leave the horses here.’’ Allie jumped down and studied the clearing in the moonlight. ‘‘There’s water and grass.’’

‘‘How much farther to the cave?’’

‘‘Just beyond the trees and up the hill a little.’’

Wes unsaddled the horses but left the mule loaded. He hobbled the mounts and swung one saddle over the pack while he carried the other. ‘‘Lead the way. I’ll take the mule as far as I can, then unload and bring her back here. You sure you can find this place at night?’’

Allie took his hand and led him into the blackness of the trees. She didn’t explain that most of the times she’d left the cave had been at night. She knew every tree, every branch. She was no longer in a strange world. She was home.

When she reached the entrance, she stopped and turned loose of his fingers. ‘‘I’ll pull the brush back and you can unload.’’

Wes lit a lantern and made several trips depositing their belongings at the opening.

While he took the mule back to the clearing, Allie waited in the darkness. Not all the seasons had changed since she’d seen her home, yet it seemed smaller than she remembered. The air was heavier, and the smell of decaying leaves penetrated the cold night.

When Wes returned with the lantern, he stood just inside the opening, almost brushing the top of the rock. She didn’t remember it being so small. She’d always thought of it as big.

‘‘I can sleep here for tonight if you want your privacy,’’ he offered.

‘‘No,’’ Allie almost shouted. ‘‘Come back with me. Tonight you will sleep beneath my robes.’’ She almost added,as I’ve planned. But she couldn’t tell him she had a plan. Not until she knew she could carry it out.

They collected a few of the supplies and moved deep into the cave.

After several turns, Wes asked, ‘‘How’d you ever find your way to this place?’’ His low voice echoed through the tunnels, creating a lonely sound as if a voice had lost direction.

‘‘It took me many tries to find the chamber. At first,I brought sticks and lit one after the other, using the charred ones to mark the walls.’’

Wes lifted the lantern to see markings along one wall. They looked like the scratchings of a child, reminding Wes of how young Allie must have been when she first began her search. What courage it must have taken for a child to enter this world where most adults would hesitate to go.

‘‘When the lights burned out, my exploring was over. So I brought freshly cut branches and spread the sap to mark my way. Even when it dried, it left the walls smooth at finger-level. Then, even in total blackness, I could feel the once sticky syrup along the rock. Every time I turned down a dead-end tunnel, I brought fresh horse droppings to place in the opening so I’d know not to turn that direction again. By the time I’d learned my way, the droppings had dried.’’

Wes laughed. ‘‘You were just a kid exploring this place.’’

Suddenly, they turned the last corner and were in a cavern twice the size of Victoria’s greatroom.

Wes set the lantern down and slowly circled. ‘‘This is grand, Allie. Grand.’’

She’d only seen the room in firelight and by the thin light that filtered from far above. Now, with the lantern, she could see her home clearly. The jagged walls, the poor array of handmade bowls and baskets. Dirty buffalo robes others had discarded spread on the hard rock to make a carpet, and ashes from dozens of fires were swept into one corner. Compared to all the homes she’d now seen, her cave looked terrible, little more than the den of an animal.

Allie knelt in the center of the room, fighting back tears. She stopped thinking about being safe in her cave. All she could remember now were the cold nights and days without sunshine. And the terrible loneliness of never hearing a human voice.

‘‘I’ll build a fire,’’ she managed to whisper. She couldn’t bear to allow Wes to know she was unhappy after she’d made him bring her here.

Wes wasn’t listening. ‘‘This is a great place, Allie. Did you make the bowls? And the baskets? Of course you did.’’

With the fire started, Allie lifted the lantern and moved to the space where she kept her treasured pelts. ‘‘You can have these.’’ She held the lamp high. ‘‘I have no need for them. Maybe you can start your herd with the money you get from them. They will repay you.’’

Wes knelt beside the pelts. They were not the fine winter pelts found farther north, and they looked to have been tanned and cut by a child with a dull knife. Maybe, on a good day, with a blind trader, they’d bring enough money for a dozen head of scrawny longhorns. But they were her gift. Her most valuable possession.