Nora. Diana Palmer

clear before I left home.”

      “King has mellowed just recently, thanks to Amelia,” Alan mused. “You really will have to come home long enough to meet her. She’s quite a girl.”

      “She must have a backbone of solid steel to cope with our brother,” he said flatly.

      “She threw a carafe at him.”

      Cal’s eyes widened. “At King?”

      “He’s still laughing about it. She’s more than a match for him. One shivers to think what sort of children they’ll have. I want to move away to a safe place before the first one comes along.”

      Cal chuckled. “Well, I’ll be. I thought he was going to marry Darcy, and there were times, mind you, when I thought he deserved to marry her.”

      “Shame on you. I wouldn’t wish such a cold fish on King. Amelia is much more his style.”

      He glanced at Alan curiously. “I had a letter from Mother about her. She thought you were the one with marriage in mind.”

      Alan looked uncomfortable. “I was, when she seemed gentle and in need of protection. After her father’s death, she changed. She was more woman than I could handle.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m not like you and King. I want a gentle, sweet girl, not a warring Valkyrie.”

      “Not me,” Cal said, eyeing the rig. “If I marry, I don’t want a woman I can browbeat. She’ll need to be spirited and adventurous to keep up with the way I want to live. If I strike anything here, I’ll move onto the place and never leave it.”

      “Camp out here, you mean?”

      “Something like that. I don’t need a city woman with snobbish attitudes.”

      “That sounds suspiciously like you’ve met one already.”

      “Who, me? Go home, Alan. You aren’t suited to drilling. You’ll just get in the way. I don’t know why you came.”

      “I’m on my way to Galveston for some fishing. It’s just the second week in September, and I won’t be gang-pressed into roundup by Father until the end of the month at least. I need a break. This was just a stop on the way,” he said, grinning. “I have a train to catch.”

      “When are you coming back?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe after next weekend. Maybe a little later.” He frowned. “I did want to see a man in Baton Rouge about some ranch business as well. Maybe I’ll go on east first, and then double back. I’ll cable you.”

      Cal clapped his brother on the back. “Go carefully, young Alan. We may be oil and water, but we’re family. Never forget.”

      “I won’t.” Alan smiled. “Good luck.”

      “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

      Alan climbed onto his hired horse and waved at Cal as he started back toward Beaumont. Cal watched him with a peculiar sensation in his chest, a feeling of loss. He laughed at his own foolishness and turned back to his chores. He had very little time left before he had to get back to Tyler Junction and the Tremayne ranch. He envied Alan that fishing trip. Drilling for oil was an occupation that was expensive, physically exhausting and not a little dangerous. Just last week, a derrick had toppled on a nearby piece of property, and a prospector had been killed. The dry hole was an occupational hazard as well, and after days of hope for a strike, it was a bitter break. Cal hoped that this next attempt would be more successful. He hated to leave the drilling crew alone, but it couldn’t be helped. He was putting all his spare capital into the venture. He needed what he made as foreman at the ranch to supplement his income.

      Besides, it gave him the opportunity to keep an eye on the family’s massive investment in the Tremayne ranch. He hated spying on Chester, but it couldn’t be helped. As much as the combine had paid to take it over, the Tremaynes stood to lose the most. In these unsafe days, it was better to cover a bet than risk the hand. He had to keep Chester solvent, for the family’s sake as well as Chester’s. If only he could bring the man around to some modern thinking. He’d have to work on that angle when he got back.

      Chapter Four

      THE NEXT WEEK, CAL HAD a telegram from Alan in Galveston, mentioning the fine weather and asking about progress on the rig. Cal took time enough to wire him back and tell him, tongue in cheek, that he’d hit the biggest strike in Texas history and hoped Alan wouldn’t be sorry he missed it.

      He wished he could be a fly on the wall when Alan got the message, although his brother knew him very well and wasn’t likely to fall for the joke. He went back to work, but his mind wasn’t on it. He was thinking about his new venture and worried about the capital he was investing. Perhaps he was trying to build a life on dreams after all. King had said as much when Cal announced his intention to go looking for a big oil strike near the Gulf. But, then, King was practical and a realist. He was content to manage the ranch and oversee the combine with their father. He wasn’t a risk taker.

      Nora was out walking when he made his way to the bunkhouse late that evening. He looked unusually solemn.

      “Hello,” she said gently, hesitating when he stopped just in front of her. “Goodness, you look somber. Is something wrong?”

      He’d deliberately avoided her since his return Monday afternoon. The way he felt about her confused him. He wanted to make her uncomfortable, to hurt her because of her arrogance, her treatment of Greely. But when it came right down to it, he hadn’t the heart.

      He studied her quietly, aware that for the first time, she wasn’t moving back or wrinkling her nose at him. Her blue eyes were shadowed in the dusk light, and they were curious as they searched his strong, lean face.

      “It’s nothing I can share with you,” he said slowly. “A…personal matter.”

      “Oh, I see.” She paused. “Life is not always what we would wish, is it, Mr. Barton?” she asked absently.

      He scowled at the proper use of his name. “I have kissed you,” he reminded her curtly. “How can you still be so formal with me?”

      She cleared her throat and folded her hands at her waist. “You embarrass me.”

      “My name is Callaway,” he persisted. “Usually I’m called Cal.”

      She smiled. “It suits you.”

      “What is Nora short for?”

      “Eleanor,” she replied.

      “Eleanor.” It sounded right on his tongue. He smiled as he studied her in the fading light. “You shouldn’t be here. The Tremaynes are very conventional people, and so, I think, are you.”

      Her blue eyes searched his face. “You are not.”

      He shrugged. “I have been a rake, and in some ways, I still am. I make my own rules.” His eyes narrowed and he spoke involuntarily. “While you are a slave to society’s rules, Eleanor.”

      Her name sounded magical on his lips. She hardly heard what he was saying. She wanted to touch him, to hold him. He made her think of beginnings, of pale green buds on trees in early spring. These were feelings that she had never before experienced, and she coveted them. But he was a cowboy. She couldn’t imagine what her parents would think if she wrote that she had become infatuated with a working man, with a hired hand. They would have a fit. So would her aunt Helen. Just the fact of speaking with him, alone like this, could cost him his job. Why had she not realized it?

      “I must go in,” she said uneasily. “It would not please my people to find me here with you like this.”

      His fingers caught hers and soothed them, eased between them. The contact was shocking. He made a rough sound deep in his throat and had to fight the urge to bring her body into his and kiss her until he made her lips sore. It was in his eyes, that terrible need. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman; surely that was the reason