by Pam Crooks
“Our baby will know the many good things his grandpapa has done, Trey,” she said firmly. “Our forgiveness will make speaking of the bad things unnecessary.”
Zurina could feel the tension seep from his muscles. His embrace tightened.
“I love you, Zurina. I wish he was here so he could see how complete you’ve made me.”
She lifted her head, peeped at him beneath her lashes and turned coy. “If only my mother could be here, too. She’d be amazed how a cattleman could make a sheepherder’s daughter so happy.”
He chuckled. His head lowered, and his mouth found hers in a lazy kiss of agreement. Of sublime satisfaction. He took his time in showing her how much happiness he would give her for the rest of their lives.
As if their little one could feel their joy and wanted to remind them he was a factor in it, he wiggled and stretched in Zurina’s womb. Without breaking their kiss, Trey laid a gentle hand over her swollen belly in acknowledgment.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Wells.”
Zurina ended the kiss and drew back at her housekeeper’s reluctant interruption. Even now, it felt strange to be called that. Mrs. Wells. A name which inspired so much respect. And, oh, how she loved being addressed by her husband’s name.
Trey straightened, and his hand fell away. Both turned toward the woman hovering in the doorway.
As wife of one of the WCC cowboys, Rita Clementson held her position in the Wells household in high esteem. Middle-aged, slender and with strands of gray just beginning to show along her hairline, she was one of the hardest working women Zurina had ever known.
Trey had insisted Zurina have help during the last weeks before their baby’s arrival. At first, Zurina dismissed the notion for its silly extravagance, citing she loved her house so much, she gladly did every chore required in its upkeep. But her stubborn husband prevailed, and in the time since, Zurina had grown to appreciate Rita’s efficiency.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Rita said. “But they’re coming. I figured you’d want to know.”
Mikolas! Zurina’s pulse leaped in anticipation. “Oh, yes. Of course, I do.”
Her brother’s sentence in the territorial prison was over. He’d paid the price for his part in Allethaire’s kidnapping, and for long, worrisome months, Zurina had prayed he would come to accept being Sutton Wells’s bastard son.
Initially it seemed he never would, but eventually, he began to respond to her weekly letters. And with every one, he sounded more and more like the brother she remembered.
Still, it wouldn’t be easy for him to come here. To the WCC. But Zurina had insisted, and so had Trey. Papa, too, and well, with no other choice, Mikolas had reluctantly agreed.
For days, Zurina had been getting ready for him. With Rita’s help, she’d prepared one of the bedrooms, cleaned the house until the floors and furniture shined and cooked the Basque foods that had always been his favorites. She looked forward to seeing him eat his fill, but how would he act when he arrived? Would he be resentful? Unhappy?
After the housekeeper left, Trey twined his fingers with hers. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I can’t help it.”
“We’ll need time to get used to one another again, that’s all.”
“I hope it doesn’t take too long. For Mikolas, I mean.”
Giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze, Trey led her from the nursery. She cast a lingering glance over the beautiful new cradle and rocking chair. There’d be time enough later to arrange them just right.
“He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, at least, deep down,” Trey said.
Despite the practicality of his words, however, Zurina fussed at the impression Mikolas would have of her new life with Trey. Her new home. A cattleman’s house, two levels tall and with more bedrooms than any Basque family would have.
Would he find it too pretentious? Would he resent her for leaving the poor simplicity of Papa’s tiny cabin in the hills for the house of her dreams?
She descended the stairs, her free hand trailing along the smooth, polished handrail. On the way down, her gaze absorbed the thick, floral carpets adorning each room. The dark, solid furniture, too. As solid and strong as Trey Wells himself.
She loved every inch, every piece, every moment in her house. If Mikolas didn’t approve, well, there was nothing more she could do to change his mind. She’d worked through her prejudices and found more happiness with Trey than she ever thought possible. She only hoped Mikolas would work through his prejudices, too.
Through the glass, she glimpsed three riders approaching. In light of her delicate condition, Dr. Shehan forbade her from journeying to meet her brother’s train. Papa and Uncle Benat had gone without her, leaving Deunoro to watch over her father’s new flock, grazing in Sun River Valley. If not for the generosity of her husband, Papa would never have been able to start over again, but Trey’s loan allowed him to continue to afford caring for the sheep he loved so much.
“Are you ready?” Trey halted at the door, his hand on the knob.
As long as she had Trey, she’d be ready for anything. She would always be content, living with him, right where she needed to be, and on impulse, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his lips.
“Of course,” she said.
He slid his arm around her waist, and together, they went outside to wait on the porch for the three men in her family to draw near. They pulled up in the yard, and her gaze fastened over her brother. He appeared thinner, paler. His hair was shorter, his clothes new and unfamiliar. But he was home, and he was free, and before she knew it, she found herself in his arms, held carefully in his embrace.
“It is good to see you again, ’Rina,” he murmured in a fervent voice. He stepped back, as if he feared he’d hurt her baby if he held her too long or too close.
Zurina stood perfectly still and endured his inspecting gaze. Her heart pounded from worry that he would find contempt in what he saw. A powerful cattleman’s wife. His half-brother’s wife, too.
Mikolas would notice she wore her hair differently now, swept up in the latest style, according to the drawings in her favorite magazine, Harper’s Bazaar. When his perusal lowered, he would see how she’d developed a passion for fashion as well. Her russet sateen wrapper with its pleated folds and fitted bodice trimmed in black velvet was as fine as could be found in the territory. Yet when his gaze touched on her rounded belly, his attention jumped over to Trey.
Who stood waiting for his reaction with his feet braced and his gaze direct. As if he challenged Mikolas to defame the new life he’d made with Zurina as her husband.
“Hello, Mikolas,” Trey said.
Her brother acknowledged the greeting with a slow nod. “Trey.”
“Welcome home.”
Mikolas swallowed. His scrutiny dragged off Trey and slid over the expansive ranch before him. The yard with its clipped lawn already a deep spring-green. The barn. The bunkhouse. Sheds and corrals. Farther out, more cattle on the range than a man could quickly count. Horses, too. The snow-topped Bear Tooth Mountains sprawled beyond them, under a crisp azure sky that never ended.
Looking overwhelmed, he pulled his gaze back again. Pride shone in his jet-black eyes.
“It’s not mine to call—” he began.
“In time, Mikolas.” Trey’s voice rumbled with understanding. With certainty. “Just give it some time.”
Zurina held her breath, sensing the demons her brother fought. Again, his glance lifted, this time to the large square window on the far left side of the house.
He would be forever haunted by the night Sutton was murdered in his office, she knew. Though Mikolas was innocent of the killing, he would never forget. He would always wish that his actions, his intentions, had been different.
Perhaps, in time, he would forgive himself for what Woodrow had done. Time that would help him bury the ugliness of the past and encourage him to look forward to the future.
To accept the Wells legacy as his own.
And w
hen better to begin his new future than now?
Zurina slid her arm under Trey’s, then extended her hand toward Mikolas.
“Come,” she said softly. “We have much to talk about.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move.
“It’s your place, Mikolas,” Trey urged. “To be here with us.”
As if their words conquered his trepidation, he took Zurina’s hand in a tight clasp.
“Yes,” he said.
She drew him closer to her side. Together, the three of them turned and headed toward the house. But before climbing the stairs, she paused and tossed a questioning glance back toward the pair waiting on horseback.
“Papa? Uncle Benat? Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
Trey grinned. “You’d best hurry. She’s fixing sausages for supper.”
Her father’s eyes lit up. “Txistorras?”
“Our mouths water at the thought of them, eh, Gabirel?” Uncle Benat said, swinging his girth out of the saddle. “The sheep can wait.”
Zurina laughed, climbed the steps and strolled into her house. The men followed right behind.
She would always be a sheepherder’s daughter, but she reveled most in being a cattleman’s wife. Their lives had merged. They’d become one.
They’d become a family.
THE END
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About Pam
While expecting her first child (more years back than she cares to count), Pam Crooks read her very first romance novel, and she’s been in love with them ever since. She grew up in the ranch country of western Nebraska, and it was inevitable she’d eventually write lots of books about cowboys. Pam still lives in Nebraska with her husband (who is not a cowboy), four married daughters and a whole slew of perfect grandchildren.
She’s a long-time member of RWA and RAH, her local chapter. Pam is also one of the founders of Petticoats & Pistols, a popular blogsite for western romance. She loves to cook, hang out at her lake cabin, and decorate birthday cakes for anyone who will let her.
To see more books Pam has written, visit www.pamcrooks.com
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