When he returned for another load, Tyler stepped in his path. “Did some checking by wire. Know you’ve returned more than half the stolen money. Even refused the bounties you were owed. Seems to me that speaks of more than guilt and revenge.”
“Yeah? What does it say of me, Sheriff?”
“Says you’re a man of honor.”
Reed dropped the wood. Honor wasn’t even in his grasp. Yet. Once, the need to regain what he’d so foolishly lost had been his sole reason for surviving. Now he knew even that wouldn’t be enough.
“Honor won’t bring Anne back. Or your brother.” Reed jerked his head toward the house. “It won’t bring back their parents either. But I’ll sure as hell die trying to stop anyone else from being killed.”
He thought of Mattie and his refusal to let her do what she wanted. The plan to take the youngsters to her other family was good. She’d see that, and when Renny and Matthew returned, he’d go into town and see if Leo had arrived. Leo, who would lead him to Malcolm.
“Where’s Mattie?”
Reed scowled. “In the house.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “She okay?”
“How the hell should I know? The woman won’t let me in!” His frustration flew out of him.
“What’d you do to her?”
Looking up at Tyler, Reed sneered, “Where’s all that trust you were talking about?”
“Reed…” The sheriff’s voice was a low growl.
“She’s in a pisser of a mood. What do you know about these visions and things?” He gave Tyler a brief rundown of the events of the morning—omitting the kiss, of course. Hell, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of that kiss, and he refused now to do so. It had been a mistake. A very distracting mistake that none of them could afford.
“You know, now that you mention it, seems I heard Mattie talking about knowing her parents were going to die.”
At Reed’s look of disbelief, Tyler shrugged. “She was pretty torn up with grief after their murder.” He sent Reed a sharp glance.
It was like a punch to the gut. Though Tyler didn’t say it, Reed knew the sheriff was also grieving the death of his brother. And it was all his fault.
“So…you believe that nonsense? Her knowing ahead of time? Visions and stuff?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Hell, that’s more in line with your own heritage. Why are you asking me?”
“Because she believes her brothers and sisters are in danger now,” Reed ground out. “She rode out of here on her own because she believes it.” He kicked a hunk of wood into the air. “And she won’t come out or let me in until I believe it and agree to take her and go after them.”
Tyler spun on his heel. “We’ll see about that. She’ll let me in. I’ll make her see sense.”
Reed watched Tyler run up the stairs and knock on the door.
No answer. Tyler tried to open the door. Still locked.
Grimly satisfied, Reed spread his feet and crossed his arms across his chest, listening as Tyler bellowed like a thwarted two-year-old. He chuckled, thinking his own son Danny had lungs that could raise the roof!
Annoyed, Reed cursed and ordered himself to think only of today. Not yesterday. Not the past. Not even the future. He scowled as the front door opened. For a few minutes, Mattie and Tyler talked. Reed strode closer, saw the sheriff shaking his head, heard the tears in Mattie’s voice.
Then he saw her bow her head, step back and shut the door. Not slam it. She just closed it and them off from her. Part of Reed felt vindicated. Had Tyler gained entrance, he would have been furious. Hurt, even though he was essentially a stranger.
But the shadow of their kiss blurred his thoughts. No two people could be strangers after sharing such an incredibly tender moment as in the meadow, a voice whispered in his head.
“Mister Sweet-Talker himself, aren’t you,” he said when Tyler tromped back down the stairs.
“Shut up, Reed.” The sheriff sounded frustrated. “I happen to agree with you. She’s better off here where you can protect her.”
“And if she’s right about her family?”
“You think there’s a chance about all that nonsense?”
Reed shook his head. “I only believe in what I see, Sheriff. But she obviously believes that she’s having visions or whatever. Maybe—”
Sheriff Tyler grabbed the reins to his horse. “Keep an eye on her. If she won’t let you in come dark, you go in. I don’t want her alone. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
Reed watched the sheriff ride out of the yard. Great. He’d hoped that Mattie would be over her sulking come nightfall. But Tyler’s interference had probably just made her mad all over again.
Picking up another load of firewood, Reed stalked back across the yard to the woodpile. “Women!” He shouted the word loud enough to be heard inside by Mattie.
* * *
“Fools! Cain’t do nothin’ right!” Leo Granger kicked his cousin Jasper. “You were supposed to lay low and watch, not open yer trap.”
Jasper yelped and hopped on one foot. “Ow! What ya kickin’ me fer?”
“Yeah, wha’d we do?” Jasper’s brother, Bart, jumped hastily out of Leo’s way.
“Ya screwed up,” Leo said. Fury rode him. There was a time when he’d given an order and it was followed. Those days had been taken from him, one brother at a time.
“But, Leo, the old geezer said it was easy money, like takin’ candy from a baby.” Jasper and Bart snickered.
“It wasn’t what I ordered the pair of you fools to do,” Leo spat. God, he hated his cousins. Stupid idiots, both of them. But with all his brothers dead, he didn’t have much choice. Family was family. He eyed them. And they were expendable after he got what he wanted.
Jasper edged around him. “Don’t see the harm in it,” he sulked.
“Ain’t payin’ either of ya to think.” Leo whipped around, ignoring both the pain in his leg and the protests coming from his cousins, and stared out at the horizon. It held a spreading sheen of gold.
He was here for one thing: the money he’d stolen from the bank. Leo looked around him. Nothing seemed familiar. But then again, the last time he’d ridden through here, he hadn’t been checking out the scenery; he’d been evading a posse.
He spat on the ground. It should have been simple. Rob the bank, run, hide out for a while, then live high. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stalked off to stare into the growing dusk. The ’breed would pay. With his life. When he’d first learned that Reed was after them, he’d laughed at the thought of the drunk city boy taking on him and his brothers.
But he’d underestimated Reed. The man had proved to be a cold, formidable enemy, and a deadly shot, but he still didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. That would be his downfall. It was Reed’s own loose tongue that had brought Leo back here, and maybe to the man who’d cheated them all out of their share of the loot in the first place.
The number of men in the posse had made them split up. He and Mac—Malcolm—were to meet back and split up the loot. Half for Mac, half for Leo and his brothers. But Mac had never returned.
Leo had been double-crossed.
Bart approached and handed Leo a brown wrapped package.
“What’s this?” Leo asked.
“Payment. The old man said it was half. The rest comes after we do the job.” His eyes glowed with greed. “Lot of money to pass up, cousin. Easier than robbin’ some bank.”
Leo silently scoffed at the idea of robbing a bank with these bumbling idiots. He unwrapped the bills and stared in disbelief at the paper banding them together; it bore the mark of the money they’d stolen a year before.
He laughed as he fanned his finger over the edges of the bills. Not only was this a lot of money, it was the money he was after. Excitement
raced through Leo. He tossed the banded stack from one hand to the other.
“Ya know? Maybe I’m bein’ a bit hasty here.”
* * *
“Mattie! Open the door!”
Sitting at the long kitchen table, Mattie ignored Reed. His fist pounded on the door. She grimaced, her head pounding with each thud.
“Dammit, Mattie, answer me!”
Mattie shivered, pulling her woolen shawl more tightly around her. Getting up, she went to the door. “Only if you promise that we leave at first light,” she called, leaning to one side.
A long silence followed. Steps scuffed back and forth outside. “No.”
Putting her hand on the door, she spread her fingers. “Then that too is my answer.” She felt his rage in the ensuing quiet.
“At least let me light a fire for you. A lantern.” A pause followed. “Scratch that. You don’t need a lantern.” A slight creaking at the window told her he was trying to see inside, but she knew it was as dark in here as out.
Sighing, Mattie returned to the table, her silence her answer. A fire would be nice. But lighting the wood stacked in the fireplace for warmth, or the stove to cook, was something she could not—would not—do while alone. Her fear of fire was too great.
Within minutes, Reed started pounding and shouting all over again. It would have been so easy for him to break a window or even to kick the door in, but he didn’t. He alternated between swearing, threatening and pleading, but the words she needed to hear from him did not come.
She needed to hear him say he trusted her, believed in her.
Too sick with worry and exhaustion for food, and too cold to sit at the table, Mattie stood and wandered. Her bare feet went from the cold, hard flooring to a soft carpet. It was small, fit to the small sitting area, which made that the coziest part of their small home.
Two chairs crowded the area, one for each of her parents. She and her brothers and sisters had been more than content to sit or lie on the thick carpet her father had given their mother after building this house.
Above the chairs was the loft where they’d all once slept crammed together—boys on one side, girls on the other. Mattie paced across the house. It was small, especially in comparison to the three-story townhouse in St. Louis. She still remembered her awe on arriving at her stepfather’s house when she was but a child of eight. Years ago, now.
Years. A sad smile flitted across her face. Winters, years. She now thought of the passing of time in the white man’s manner, had become more white than Sioux. But deep inside, where it was important, she’d not lost her heritage.
Which included listening to spirits. And to her own intuition. Right now, all that she was screamed for her to ride off and find her siblings. But she couldn’t. Not alone. Entering the small alcove where she slept, Mattie drew in a sharp breath at a blast of cold air. She’d forgotten about the broken window. Hesitating, she closed her eyes. She’d not be able to sleep here. She felt too vulnerable.
“Mattie, it’s getting late. If you don’t let me in I’ll kick down the door. Tyler even told me to do so, you stubborn woman!”
Her eyes flew open. Reed’s voice came in the window. She heard the soft hiss of a lantern.
“You won’t,” she said. “Or you’d have done so earlier.” She had no real idea of the passing of time—there was no light for her to watch fade. She only knew that it was dark by the coldness seeping into the house, and by the weariness of her body.
Wanting the robe she’d left on the rocking chair, she made to fetch it. Reed’s sharp voice stopped her. “Glass,” he warned.
“It’s been swept,” she said, walking toward the window. She heard his breathing, knew he was close enough to reach in and grab her. But he didn’t. Mattie picked up the buffalo robe and turned away.
“How long are you going to stay locked inside there?”
“Until you believe,” she answered.
“What about a fire? It’s cold. At least let me come in and build you a fire,” he begged.
She sighed, not bothering to tell him that she also wouldn’t stay alone in the house with a burning fire. Not after the past. She took another step away from him.
“Food! You need to eat.”
Mattie turned. He was starting to sound frantic. “Not as much as I need you to believe me.”
She went back through the old quilt that served as a curtain, separating the room from the rest of the house. This time there was no pounding. No yelling. No curses. Just silence that pressed in on her with the same heaviness as the darkness behind her eyes, and that stole into her heart.
How could a man who made her see so much color with just his presence, feel so much warmth with just a touch, be so cold to her needs? She needed him to believe. So much depended on it. She felt it, knew it with as much certainty as she knew the darkness of night would give way to the light of day.
Climbing the ladder, she entered the loft and slid into the bed she’d once shared with Renny. For just a while, her world had been renewed. That kiss she’d shared with Reed had changed her. He was her destiny. How could he not be when he made her feel and see so much?
Closing her eyes, Mattie held her fingers to her cheeks, remembering every line of his face, the firmness of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the bushy brows, thick hair that fell over his forehead. And his mouth. His incredible mouth.
Mattie had never thought much of a man’s mouth. It was just there, a part of the man but nothing special. How wrong she’d been. Reed’s mouth told her much. Firm and soft and moist as the morning mist… Rolling to her side, Mattie curled into a ball. And stubborn, that mouth was.
Wrapping herself in her robe, she buried her face in a pillow and cried. The spirits had returned her gift, sent her a man who made her see and feel like never before. He was her soul mate, her other half, but the spirits were full of deception. How else could her soul mate not know and trust her as she knew and trusted him?
This time, the scent of her mother’s buffalo robe failed to provide her much-needed comfort, for she was also surrounded by the scents of her siblings and the knowledge that she might never see them again.
* * *
It was going to be a long, sleepless night. Reed stared at the dark house. Mattie was in there, alone, cold and probably frightened. He smacked his fist into the barn door, then swore at the pain. He’d promised Tyler he’d go inside, even if he had to force his way in, but he couldn’t.
Just as he couldn’t make false promises for whatever Mattie asked of him. Not even in his need to protect her. He wouldn’t lie to her. And yet he couldn’t agree to what she asked of him.
Reed refused to be responsible for another death. His belly churned with bitter bile. So where did that leave him? He grimaced.
Cold. Hungry. Angry.
And most of all, battered.
The last year had been spent mourning his losses, kicking himself for his foolishness, regretting the pride that had kept him from giving the man who’d adopted him the one thing that would have most likely put things right—a simple apology. An apology for running off with Anne to marry her. But he’d been too young and arrogant And it was not something he was sorry for. He only regretted that it had come to deceiving the man who’d loved him as a son. Pride had kept him silent. His wife and his adoptive mother had begged him, but he’d remained as stubbornly silent as his father.
And look where that had gotten him. Instead of losing the love and respect of one man, he’d lost it all. Had he put things to right, none of this would have happened. He’d have been home in the evenings with his family, not out drinking and trying to prove to himself that he didn’t need the old man’s love and acceptance.
Hell, the old man had actually tried once to apologize and make things right between them, but Reed had refused to listen. Instead, he’d
allowed his bitterness to turn him into the very image he’d fought all his life—a drunk half-breed.
Then, while drunk and full of righteous anger, he’d allowed himself to be manipulated. And people had died.
He crossed his arms on his chest and glared at the house. The woman inside was trying to manipulate him, and he wasn’t having any of it. He would do what he needed to keep her safe.
But what about the others? What if she’s right?
What would it hurt for him to take her and go after her family? He could protect her just as well on the road as here. He stared out into the night. In fact, he might be able to protect her a hell of a lot better.
Houses could be set to fire, they could become traps. Hell, someone could easily find her here. And there were many places for an enemy to hide on this property. Reed found himself considering the idea. He could even just ride Mattie around in circles until her brother and sister returned.
He scowled. No, he wouldn’t do that to her. He picked up his rifle and started for the house. Reaching the door, he settled on the crude porch swing and stared up into the blinking night sky. The chain squeaked in the crispy cold of the night, and seemed to whisper, But what if she’s not right? What if this is the wrong decision?
All the regrets of the last year came at him with the speed and impact of flying bullets. He felt the wounds—each and every one of them—and felt the blood pour out of him.
His vision turned red. He saw her, his Annie, lying on the hard, polished floor of the bank, her new daffodil-yellow dress stained with blood. Her eyes were glazed, fearful. Tears streamed out as the blood pooled beneath her.
“My babies. Promise to take care of our babies.”
Reed heard the echo of his own voice promising that she’d be all right, that he’d make everything all right again. But things weren’t all right. There was still blood. Lots of it. Too much. His hands were slick with it.
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