The strains of a lively tune reached her as she neared El Regalo. She reined in her mare and studied the stately ranch house, silhouetted against the setting sun. Made of stone, with its majestic tower scraping the clouds and its wealth of windows, the massive structure resembled a castle, more imposing than inviting, although the Hart family itself was the embodiment of hospitality. So, why did she feel so out of place?
Coralee rode to the stable, where a ranch hand took her horse. She searched the crowd for Chisholm. Tall, like all of Houston’s brothers, he wasn’t hard to find. He stood beside his father. She wove her way toward the two men, slipping through the crush of people surrounding the dance floor. The festivities had gotten underway early and would continue well into the night.
Chisholm saw her and smiled. “Welcome, Coralee. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Good. Then you have the message for my brother?”
George Washington Hart answered. “There’ll be time enough for that later, young lady, after you’ve enjoyed some good old-fashioned Texas food and fun. But first let me welcome you.” He yanked off his Stetson, waved it over his head, and offered her a gentlemanly bow with his hat pressed to his chest. The lively number ended rather abruptly, and the musicians launched into a waltz.
GW nodded. “That’s more like it. I’ve been hankering after a dance, but I need a partner. Would you do me the honor?”
She couldn’t very well turn down the patriarch of the family, even if he intimidated her. “Yes, sir.”
He escorted her onto the wooden dance floor. In deference to their host, the couples parted, allowing GW to guide her to the centermost spot. He took her in his arms and guided her in slow, easy circles.
“I heard the drive was a huge success.”
“It was.”
Their conversation was cut short when a gentleman with his hat tugged low and his face turned away tapped GW on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”
Coralee recognized the voice at once. “Houston! You’re here?”
Chapter Eleven
Houston’s father released Coralee and grinned. “She’s all yours, son.”
It took all the restraint Houston possessed not to kiss Coralee then and there, but he reined himself in. His plan had gone smoothly so far—aside from having been spotted leaving town—but he was far from certain how she’d react to the next step.
Houston and Coralee assumed the waltz position, and off they went, swirling about the dance floor. He drew in a breath of her floral-scented perfume and gazed into her beautiful face. “You look lovely.”
His compliment didn’t even seem to register. She was still overcoming the shock. Perhaps his plan to take her by surprise wasn’t a good idea after all, but it was too late to change things now.
“I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you’d gone.”
“I wouldn’t leave without telling you.”
“But you did. Meribeth saw you board the stagecoach yesterday, and I saw Fred load your trunk with my own eyes.”
He led her through a crush of dancers with a series of deft moves, narrowly avoiding a collision with a rather enthusiastic ranch hand and his lady. “The trunk wasn’t mine. I was only going to San Antonio to make a special purchase, so all I took was a satchel.”
“I thought you’d left for California.”
“So I heard.”
Coralee’s chocolate-brown eyes widened, and her brow furrowed. “You knew, and yet you allowed me to go on believing that you were gone?”
“I’d hoped to keep my whereabouts a secret.”
“Oh, they were, all right. I thought you’d gone off and left me like you did before. But you didn’t.”
Was the tremble in her chin a good sign or a bad one? At least she was here, thanks to Calvin, no doubt. Her brother had promised to say whatever it took to get her to attend the post-drive dance. Unlike her, Calvin was in on Houston’s plan—and heartily approved of it.
Despite a stomach so heavy it felt as though he’d swallowed an anvil, he had to enact the next phase. Things would either go well, or they wouldn’t. Please, Lord, give me the courage to make it through this.
Houston caught the eye of his nearest brother and nodded. Crockett raised his hat over his head, a signal to the musicians to stop playing, which they did. Houston released Coralee.
She looked around, obviously searching for answers. “How odd. That’s two numbers in a row they’ve cut short.”
“There’s a reason for that. You’ll see.”
The other couples gathered at the edges of the dance floor. Crockett and the rest of Houston’s brothers—with the exception of reclusive Bowie—strode onto the planked surface and formed a ring around Houston and Coralee. They were joined by Pa, the Hart women, and Houston’s nephew, Robbie.
Coralee’s eyes grew wider and wider. “What’s going on?”
Houston drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. Moments from now he would either be the happiest man in all of Texas, or he would be forced to take his miserable self back to California and carry on with a large part of his heart missing.
He took Coralee’s hands in his. “I know how important family is to you. I have a wonderful one, and I want them to witness this moment. Coralee Culpepper, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was a fool to leave you all those years ago, but I’m back, and I’m here to stay.”