A Texan's Promise Read Free Page A

could really keep her safe. "I do."
    Her voice sounded unsure. Would she try to bolt? "Vanessa, promise me."
    His knot of fear dissipated as trust filled her gaze, gifting him with a present he could hardly bear to accept. "I promise. I won't open this door for anyone but you."
    "I'll be back within fifteen minutes."
    "I'll be waiting."

     
    Clay knew where her room was. After letting himself in through the back door, he climbed the stairs, then strode toward her room. He hadn't bothered to remove his boots; he supposed half of him was itching for a fight.
    When he heard nothing, he searched Vanessa's room, pulling out sturdy boots, undergarments, and calicos with the ease of a lady's maid. He silently thanked his sister Corrine for being such a ninny. From the time she'd been eight, he'd had the misfortune and experience of serving as her dresser, thanks to their mother passing soon after their little brother Scout had been born.
    The silly chit had been blessed with a penchant for numerous buttons and the sore inability to fasten them easily.
    The memories of Corrine's vanity reminded him to grab Vanessa's silver-backed brush and combs. He was just gazing at the pale ivory wool shawl she wore on Sundays, remembering how pretty she looked with it wrapped around her shoulders on her way to church, when Miles stepped in.
    "Clayton? What are you doing in here?"
    Miles was one year older than Vanessa. At twenty, he was more than old enough to be a man. Unfortunately, no one had seen him that way.
    His father had ignored Miles's assertions that he was ready to manage the ranch, leaving it firmly in Clayton's hands.
    When Price had come along, he too had kept a firm grip on the boy, ignoring his ideas, tamping down his efforts to accept responsibility. Now, few on the ranch thought much of Miles. The twenty year old seemed destined to falter forever on the brink of manhood—old enough to be responsible but too green to be of use.
    His somewhat tentative, almost lazy disposition had driven Clayton to distraction more than a time or two.
    And now the boy had the audacity to ask why he was gathering Vanessa's things in the middle of the night. "I think you have a fair idea why I'm here. It's obvious your sister can't stay near Price a moment longer."
    Miles's eyes bugged. "You can't just take her."
    Clay felt like he was speaking to a child. "I can, and I will."
    Twin spots of color splashed across his face. "You've got to keep her here. You don't know what Price will do if she's gone missing."
    A sharp image of Vanessa's back, damaged and hurting, struck him hard. "I believe I do."
    "Clayton, you need to stop and listen. Price . . . he didn't mean to get out of hand."
    "Out of hand?" His patience snapped. Gripping Miles by the shoulders, Clay pinned him in place. "He hit your sister with a leather strap. He tried to do far worse."
    "I know." Miles's skin turned a pasty white. "But—"
    Disgusted, Clayton dropped his hands, shoved Miles to one side. "If you intend to talk some more, do it outside. Your sister's waiting." Clay scooped up Vanessa's clothes and brushes, stuffed them into a pillowcase. At the last minute, he added her shawl, her diary, and her ivory fountain pen. There'd hardly been a day go by that he hadn't seen her writing.
    He strode out the room, pausing as Marilyn peeked out from the master suite. A cheek was bruised and swollen, accentuating the lack of color in her face.
    Gesturing to the stuffed pillowcase, she whispered, "You taking Vanessa, Clay?"
    "I am."
    Overwhelming relief flooded her features. "Good. Price drank almost a bottle of whiskey. He won't wake for some time. I'll do my best to keep her disappearance quiet for as long as possible."
    Clay struggled for control. "Yes, ma'am."
    She stepped forward and gripped his arm with a shaking hand. "Tell Van I love her. I did my best—"
    Clay couldn't bear to hear anymore. To his way of thinking, Marilyn's best had been a poor effort. "I will," he said,