Joan Johnston - Texas Woman

“Sí, we shall take this back to the hacienda with us. Your papa will be home soon, and he will surely want to see it.”

And if Cruz did not return before Saturday, what then? Tomasita closed her eyes and prayed to the Blessed Virgin to give her strength to resist the awful temptation that had been laid in her path.

SLOAN SENSED SOMEONE IN HER BEDROOM WITH her and rolled over in the large feather bed. As she slowly sat up she saw Rip standing at the foot of her bed, silhouetted against the last rays of the sun.

She had only meant to rest for a moment, but she must have fallen asleep. She realized that the bed was no place from which to conduct the arguments she had formulated, but Rip didn’t give her a chance to get up before he began speaking.

“Well, well, well. The prodigal daughter has returned.”

Sloan bristled at his smug tone. She rose from the bed and stood beside it, tucking her gingham shirt into her trousers.

“It’s about time someone showed some common sense around here,” he said.

She leaned down and tugged on a Wellington, then had to search before she found the other boot under the bed. While she was pulling it on she asked, “Where’s Luke?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Sloan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “That’s a new tune you’re singing. I must say I like the sound of it, though.”

Rip chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up. He’ll be back.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“That boy hates my guts.” Rip took his time getting to the ladder-back chair in the corner of Sloan’s room. After he had settled himself in it, he leaned his hands on the handle of his cane and said, “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you guessed everything wasn’t honey and roses between me and my son.”

“No. No, I hadn’t… exactly.” Sloan hopped up on the foot of the bed and let her heels dangle over the bedstead. “Why does he hate you?”

“It’s a long story, and not a very pleasant one. I’d as soon not repeat it. Suffice it to say, there are things that happened that I’m not proud of. Things that hurt Luke’s mother.”

“Is there anything you can do to mend fences?”

“No. Luke’s mother Charity died a few years ago.”

A look of such great longing, mixed with pain, came across Rip’s face that Sloan nearly got up to go to him. In another instant, the strained look was gone and he was in control again.

“There’s nothing I can do to help her now,” he said with a sigh of regret. “And Luke isn’t going to let me forget it.”

“But there’s something you can do to help him. Is that it?” Sloan said. “Is that why you want to give him Three Oaks?”

“Something like that,” Rip admitted. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t have wanted to help him anyway. After all, he is my son.”

“How do you know he’s actually your son?”

To her surprise Rip grinned. “Charity made sure he knew about my birthmark. Luke has the same one.”

“I never knew-”

“It isn’t in a place that shows.”

Sloan had never thought of her father as an ordinary person with ordinary flaws. He had always been someone larger than life, the bedrock of Three Oaks, the stubborn, opinionated head of the household.

Now she realized he was only a man, one who had made a terrible mistake once upon a time. It was a mistake he clearly regretted and one that would likely haunt him the rest of his life.

It was also a mistake for which she was being forced to pay the consequences.

Sloan scooted off the bed and walked the few steps necessary to lay a hand on Rip’s shoulder, offering the comfort she hadn’t dared to offer before.

Rip’s head came up with a jerk, and his gray eyes turned dark as he perused her face. “I assume you’ve come back to be my overseer.”

“I’ve come back to claim what’s mine.”

Rip chuffed out a breath of air. “What about Cruz?”

“What about him?”

“The man seemed pretty certain he wanted you for his wife. Do you mean to tell me he’s changed his mind?”

“Not exactly.”

Rip cocked a brow and waited.

“No, dammit, he hasn’t changed his mind,” Sloan admitted in a rush.

“Seems to me your marrying Cruz would be the perfect answer to all our problems,” Rip said. “You would be mistress of Dolorosa, and I could leave Three Oaks to Luke. Everything would be even all around.”

“Except I don’t want Dolorosa. I want Three Oaks,” Sloan retorted.

“We don’t always get everything we want.”

A silence descended between them as they both digested the bitter truth of Rip’s statement.

“Why are you so determined to disinherit me?” Sloan asked.

“Maybe I’m just trying to do what’s best for you,” Rip said, his brow furrowed.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s best for me.”

Rip took a good look at his eldest daughter, who defied him with shoulders back, chin up, and arms crossed aggressively under her breasts. He had trained her well, molded her in his image. Perhaps he had done too good a job. Perhaps she was going to plow bullheadedly forward in the wrong direction just to get her own way.

He had learned a few hard lessons over the past few years. The hardest of them was that he wasn’t as smart as he had thought he was. He had dreamed of having three sons, of creating an empire that would begin with Three Oaks.

Now he realized that he hadn’t counted on the vast opportunities Texas would offer his children. He hadn’t counted on their wanting to take off, like eaglets leaving their aerie, in search of their own domain.

He hadn’t counted on the choices being taken out of his hands.

Rip had watched his two younger daughters leave Three Oaks and start fulfilling new lives with their husbands. He couldn’t help wanting that same kind of happiness for Sloan, the child with whom he had shared so much of the burden of Three Oaks, the one on whom he had been hardest because she must be best.

She had always been independent, and determined to do everything her own way. Now she was going to throw away the chance of a life with Cruz in order to possess Three Oaks.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. So he said, “I guess I’ll let you and Luke fight it out.”

Sloan could hardly believe her ears. “You have no objection to my claiming Three Oaks?”

“You’ll have to settle the matter with Luke. He makes the decisions about Three Oaks now.” Rip rose from the chair and walked across the room, not stopping until he reached the door. “If you want to wait, Luke said he would be back along about sundown. It’s good to see you, Sloan.”

It was all the welcome she was going to get, Sloan knew, and yet it was more of a statement of caring than he had ever made in the past. Still, her sense of betrayal ran deep. Luke hated Rip; she loved her father; yet Rip had given control of Three Oaks to his son.

Damn right she planned to wait and talk to Luke!

She was sitting in Rip’s office when she heard footsteps in the central hallway. She waited for Luke to come in, belatedly realizing that she had heard the steps of two men.

“Howdy, Sloan,” Luke said.

She turned her head to greet him and was stunned by the sight of Cruz standing next to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came home and found you gone. I thought we had an understanding.”

Sloan rose to confront Cruz. “I understood what you wanted. But I don’t think you have an inkling of what I want.” She turned to Luke. “Rip told me he’s given control of Three Oaks to you.”

“If that’s what he said, it must be so,” Luke said.

“I want it back.”

“Why?” Luke asked. “You’re married to Cruz. Or so he just told me. You’ll be living at Dolorosa.”

“I… we…” She looked into Cruz’s eyes and saw him dare her to deny it. “This has nothing to do with whether I’m married to Cruz or not.”

“I’m afraid I have to differ with you,” Luke said. “A woman belongs with her husband.”

Sloan didn’t know what argument to use against that reasoning.

“But that’s not why I went to Dolorosa looking for you today,” Luke said.