Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection

“I see. Well, it’s in good hands, then.”

“It’s just between us,” Crockett told his brother. “Nobody else knows except Ben. Well, Boyd overheard us talking about it. I’m pretty sure that’s why he tore into Ben.”

Bowie nodded. “Just tell it all to the sheriff when he gets here.”

“No fear,” Crockett said. “I’ll tell him everything I know.”

“So will I,” Jane said staunchly. She glanced at him and back at Bowie. “Crockett won’t be in trouble, will he?”

“I don’t think so. All of you saw what happened.”

“Yes.” She frowned and walked over to the fence, avoiding looking at her father’s body.





Chapter Eight


Jane watched Ben ride out with Houston Hart. She could hear Crockett and Bowie behind her, talking softly where they stood near the barn. She sniffed. In the last five minutes, her life had changed, but how? The sun still glared down on them. The skinny cattle grazed on what little they could find. The new house still had only part of a roof.

Would she actually live in that house? Would Ben stay, now that Pa wasn’t here any longer? Would he ride off to find his own life now? And what about Crockett—would he still want to come courting, after what he’d just done to her pa? Too many questions crowded her mind. She closed her eyes and leaned on the fence.

Pa had made her life and Ben’s miserable the last ten years. A thousand times she had wished he would go off and not come back. She’d thought she and Ben could get along just fine on their own, without him. Maybe better than with him, since they wouldn’t have to worry about whether he ate anything that day, or where he got the latest jug of liquor, or if he was going to draw off and hit them for no good reason.

But she hadn’t wished for him to die.

Slowly, she turned. Crockett was sitting on the far edge of the bench, and his older brother was talking to him. She couldn’t hear what Bowie said, but Crockett’s face was sober. He’d killed a man. That must have brought him up short, but she couldn’t help him now. They weren’t talking about just any man. It was her pa. Could things ever be the same between them?

Bereavement settled on her heart, not just for pa. She may well have lost Crockett, too, before he was really hers. She had dreamed of a life with him, and last night he’d seemed to want that, too. Could they look at each other across the breakfast table every morning, knowing he’d killed her father?

Jane hauled in a deep breath and looked toward the clean, new little house. How foolish she had been to think her life had taken a turn for the better.

She stood leaning on the fence. A half hour passed, and the sun didn’t seem to have moved. She ought to think about fixing dinner for the men. She took a few steps toward them, achy and stiff from hunching over the fence so long.

Bowie had covered Pa with a saddle blanket—at least, she assumed Bowie did it while she was turned away, with her face to the range. Crockett still sat on the wobbly bench. He stood when she drew near.

“Jane.” His brown eyes were broody, and his face was creased with lines, which made him look much older. She couldn’t talk to him now, not with all the contradictory thoughts that jabbed at her from all sides. Relief was the main one. Was that wrong? Guilt was a close second. Sorrow was somewhere down the list, but she knew it would probably catch up later, when the full import of Pa’s death became clear.

She looked away, unable to hold Crockett’s troubled gaze. “I thought … I thought I should cook something.”

“Don’t bother. Not for us.” He huffed out a breath. “We haven’t even set up your stove. Should have done that first, I guess.”

Jane shook her head. “I’ll heat water for coffee over the fire, and there’s cans of beans and a few things left from last night.”

Bowie eyed his brother closely. “We could get up on that roof and get a little more done.”

“They should be back soon,” Crockett said.

Bowie shrugged.

“You go ahead,” Crockett told him. “I feel like one of us should stay here with … with Boyd.” He looked over at the blanketed body, and the creases on his brow deepened.

“Thank you,” Jane said. “Thank you both. I’ll bring you some coffee.”

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