Chapter One

> Chapter One > Boston, 1881

Bret Nolan approached his Uncle Silas Abbott's office with barely concealed anticipation, a smile threatening to banish his habitual frown. He was certain he was being called in for the long-promised but often postponed meeting about the changes Bret had proposed for the company.

He had worked in his mother's family's shipping company, Abbott & Abercrombie, since leaving Texas six years ago. During that time he'd carefully studied the inner workings of the transportation industry as the last of the great clipper ships gave way to steam power. He had spent more than a year developing a detailed plan of changes the company needed to make to remain competitive into the twentieth century.

He was doubly excited because the changes would mean bigger roles for him and for his cousin Rupert who supported him. He wished Rupert were here today, but he was in Providence, Rhode Island, inventorying the contents of Abbott & Abercrombie's warehouses. It was the kind of job that reminded the two men they were poor relations.

"Your uncle said you were to go right in," his secretary said with a broad smile when Bret entered her office. "He's anxious to see you."

Bret's steps grew lighter. His uncle was never anxious to see him. In fact, seeing Bret usually gave him gas. He must have grasped the value of Bret's plan. Finally, he would begin to see his nephew as a valued member of the company, not merely the son of a disinherited sister and her rabble-rousing husband who was thoughtless enough to get himself killed in circumstances that brought unwelcome publicity to the family.

He knocked on the door of his uncle's office. The words Come in sounded so welcoming he smiled.

"You wanted to see me, sir."

"Come in and have a seat," his uncle said.

He was in such a sunny mood Bret began to feel uneasy. He felt certain his recommendations were sound, but he'd expected his uncle to argue every point. Silas Abbott liked to think all good ideas were his own. When they weren't, he'd talk in circles, making and discarding suggestions, until he arrived back at the starting point, convinced he'd come up with the solution himself.

"How have you been keeping yourself?" his uncle asked. "We haven't had a chance to see much of each other lately."

Bret grew even more apprehensive. His uncle never wanted anything to do with him, had only hired him because Bret's grandmother had insisted he give Bret a job. Uncle Silas paid Bret barely enough to live on, a measure of his displeasure at having his hand forced.

"I have nothing to complain about," Bret lied. "Working ten hours a day six days a week doesn't leave much time for me to find trouble ... or it to find me." He could tell from the twitch of his uncle's eyebrows the remark had angered him, but Bret was tired of seeing his uncle and his son, Joseph, leave the office when he and Rupert still had several hours of work to do. Even the regular staff went home before they did.

"Honest work never hurt anyone," his uncle said. "It's how you get ahead."

But Bret hadn't gotten ahead. Everybody in the office knew he and Rupert could work circles around Joseph, yet Joseph continued to get promoted, with commiserate raises in salary, while Rupert stayed a glorified errand boy and Bret an equally exalted clerk. Bret had tried very hard to control the bitterness that burned in his stomach like an acid, but it had become increasingly difficult in the face of Joseph's unwarranted promotions.

"I don't mind. I like the work." Okay, he was lying, but telling the truth wouldn't get him anywhere. This was his chance for a real future. It was worth a little white lie.

"Shepherd tells me you've done a very good job," his uncle said. "In fact, he can't seem to stop talking about you."

Unlike Silas, Shepherd wasn't one to deny praise where it was due.

"I'm glad he thinks I've been helpful."

When he first came from Texas, Bret had had difficulty making meaningless conversation. There was no such thing in the Maxwell household. Jake was brusque, Isabelle direct, and the other orphans just waiting for a chance to put somebody down. As long as what they said was fair, Jake and Isabelle let them say pretty much what they thought. They believed all the boys had a right to be heard, that their feelings should be respected as far as possible, and that treatment should be fair. But most of all, they'd loved every one of their eleven adopted kids. The orphans had worked hard, played hard, and occasionally fought hard, but they were a loved and a valued part of a family. They knew they belonged.

Bret hadn't expected his mother's family to feel the same way about him, but reality had been a brutal shock. His father's sister had welcomed him back, but she was involved in her causes and was seldom around. Only his grandmother's attention enabled him to keep his tongue between his teeth. She had encouraged him to be patient, said that his hard work and intelligence would pay off someday. Today was that day.

"I called you in because I have a very special assignment for you," his uncle said.

"I was hoping we could discuss the suggestions I gave you. It wouldn't take more than a few minutes to-"

"I'm still studying them." Silas tried unsuccessfully to hide his irritation at Bret's interruption.

"I doubt you're aware of it," his uncle said, "but Ezra Abercrombie had a brother who went west. Samuel was something of an embarrassment to the family so Ezra was relieved to be rid of him. But apparently their father had a change of heart before he died."

Amos Abercrombie, ninety-three-year-old only son of one of the original founders of Abbott & Abercrombie, had died the previous year and had been buried with all the pomp and recognition the city fathers of Boston could give him.

"It came as quite a surprise to Ezra to learn his father had left a quarter interest in the firm to Samuel in his will."

Bret could see how that would upset his uncle, but he didn't see what it could have to do with him. The Abercrombies were a proud family who didn't waste time on poor relations. He doubted they'd let him in the door.

"It seems the old renegade has managed to make a fortune in cows somewhere in that godforsaken state of Texas," Silas grumbled. "You ought to know all about that sort of thing."

Bret did know all about that sort of thing, and his family never let him forget it. Whenever one of them made any slurring remark about the South or the West, they always turned to him as though he'd been personally responsible for the Civil War as well as anyone wanting to settle west of the Mississippi River. The fact that he would not back down in his admiration for Jake and Isabelle was held to be proof he was not yet rehabilitated.

"How does that affect me?" Bret asked.

"You can keep twenty-five percent of our company stock from ending up in the hands of some ignorant cowpoke."

Bret had to force down a spurt of anger before he could reply. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Samuel is dying. He wants this daughter - his only child - to move to Boston. The only problem is the old turncoat has given the girl such a poor image of the Abercrombies she refuses to budge. The only person she remembers favorably is Joseph, so Samuel wants us to take her in. I want you to bring her to Boston before she gets any foolish ideas about marrying a cowpoke."

Bret wasn't the least bit flattered by this very special assignment. His uncle had chosen him to go to Texas because he thought everybody else was too good to be subjected to the rigors of entering a state he was convinced was populated almost entirely by thieves and murderers.

"It's your job to make sure she gets here in an unmarried state. Until she's safely settled in Boston, it's your only job."

"I can't force her against her will."

"Who said anything about forcing her?" his uncle asked. "You lived among those people for years. You understand them. If you want me to believe you're smart enough to figure out a better way to run my business, you can begin by delivering that girl without a husband in tow."

"Sons and daughters of those people don't always do what their parents want."

"That would serve Samuel right," Silas said with a nasty smile. "He never did what anybody wanted, but we can't afford to let those shares go out of the family. You get her here, and I'll find somebody to marry her."

"Who?" She might be heir to a quarter of the company, but Bret couldn't see one of the Abbotts or Abercrombies marrying anybody who hadn't been born into Boston society.

"Samuel has sent his brother several pictures of her over the years. I don't know where he found anyone with a camera in that godforsaken place, but the girl appears to be rather attractive. Joseph is quite taken with her. I admit I'm not pleased at the prospect of a woman of that kind as my daughter-in-law, but we can't allow that twenty-five percent to leave the family."

"I'll have nothing to do with marrying her to Joseph."

"Joseph is capable of handling his own affairs," Silas said. "Your job is to get her here. And don't get any ideas about marrying her yourself." Silas never thought anything he said was insulting. As far as he was concerned, only people like himself had feelings.

"I couldn't marry if I wanted," Bret said. "I don't make enough to support a wife much less a family."

"Don't despair," Silas said without the slightest hint of sympathy. "Once you work off some of the rough edges you got from spending so many years with horses and cows, you might find a wife. Boston is full of wealthy young women who don't come quite up to the mark and are willing to accept something less in a husband."

Bret wasn't willing to accept something less in a wife. "If Joseph is interested in marrying Miss Abercrombie, maybe he should go to Texas."

"He wouldn't know how to deal with those people," Silas said. "Besides, I have no intention of letting him marry that girl until she's brought up to our standards. No, it will be much better for you to bring her here. That will give you plenty of opportunity to sing Joseph's praises, let her know how fortunate she is to have attracted the notice of a man of his quality. If you do your job right, by the time she gets here, she'll be ready to fall into Joseph's arms and do anything he asks."

Bret knew he had no choice about going to Texas, yet he wouldn't be a party to talking any woman into marrying his cousin. "If she's spent her whole life on a ranch in Texas, she won't know what to do in a place like this."

"Joseph will take care of that. All you have to do is get her here."

"What if I can't bring her back?"

His uncle's cold stare bored into Bret. "Then don't come back."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from "A Texan's Honor" by Leigh Greenwood. Copyright (C) by Leigh Greenwood. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.