She forced a smile and opened the door, praying to find relief from a deep ache that hurt worse than her head wound.
Renny stepped inside. Her smile died slowly when no one appeared to realize she was home. Mattie was mixing flour for biscuits. Caitie and Kealan wrestled on the braided carpet with Reed, Mattie’s new husband of only a few weeks.
Nine-year-old Daire sat in the chair that had once belonged to their father, hooting with laughter and calling out encouragement to his younger brother and sister. The large room, the heart of the house, rang with laughter, love and warmth, yet the scene chilled Renny. Inside, she felt as though a ball of ice had lodged in her very soul.
Renny felt her eyes dull and fought resentment and anger. She tried swallowing her disappointment and hurt. Before Reed had come into their lives, Renny had clung to the exuberant welcome of her siblings after a long day working the land. It got her through the next day. And the next.
No matter how tired she was, she, Renny, had always found a bit of energy in reserve to play and wrestle with her much younger siblings.
A small sound of distress must have escaped because Mattie turned to her.
“Don’t blame them,” she said softly. A small smudge of flour streaked one cheek.
Renny walked over to her sister, younger by only a year. Using the hem of Mattie’s apron, she wiped the flour from her face. “For someone who is blind, you see an awful lot.” There was no anger in her voice. Although she was her sister by marriage, Mattie had been Renny’s best friend since she’d been nine and Mattie eight. They’d been soul sisters before their parents had met and married.
“You know I don’t blame them.” Renny sighed. “For a while I was afraid they’d never laugh or play like this again. I’m grateful that they’ve recovered as well as they have and are getting back to being themselves.”
Renny meant every word. Sights like the one before her meant that time would heal the wounds fate had inflicted on them all.
Her gaze rested on Caitie, who still woke screaming in the night. Her kidnappers had paid—with their lives—but there were times when Renny felt that death was not punishment enough for those who’d brought death and terror into their family.
Mattie stroked her hand along Renny’s arm. “The children love you. Nothing has changed, my sister.”
Watching Reed rise up on his knees to give a big roar as he grabbed Caitie and hugged her until she squealed, watching Kealan jump onto his back as he tried to wrestle his much older, and much-beloved brother-in-law, Renny shook her head. Everything had changed that day, nearly a year ago, when she’d found the bodies of her parents, murdered, shot in cold blood.
She forced lightness to her voice. “Don’t fret, Mattie. I understand. Truly. I’m so happy for you. All of you. Reed is good to them and they love him.”
Compared to what Mattie had suffered through, Renny had no business complaining. Shortly after losing their parents, Mattie had gotten married. Fate had cruelly taken her husband of only a few short hours.
Trapped in a burning barn, he’d died trying to get Mattie out. Mattie had survived, barely. But she hadn’t come away unscathed. A blow to her head had left her blind.
Yet Mattie remained strong, never growing bitter. She’d adapted to her limitations, refusing to be a burden. Renny had admired her sister then, and still did. She was grateful that Mattie and Reed—and all of her siblings—were safe, loved and content.
All was right with their world. Or nearly, Renny corrected, thinking of Reed’s need to return to the home of his parents, who were taking care of his children. But for now, all was as it should be. It was only her own life that seemed so bleak at the moment.
Mattie gave Renny’s dangling braid a tweak. “Stop torturing yourself, my sister.”
Renny rolled her eyes. She’d never been able to hide her thoughts and feelings from Mattie.
“I saw that,” Mattie said.
Renny couldn’t help the small laugh. “Saw what?” Mattie smiled back. Mattie knew Renny so well, she didn’t need to see Renny to know her thoughts or feelings.
Mattie lifted a hand to Renny’s face. She stroked softly. “Your turn will come.”
Renny’s eyes widened as she searched her sister’s features. The small smile made her shiver. She might respect and believe in her sister’s gift of Sight, but it still startled her sometimes. Besides, the last thing she had time for at the moment was a man. Her eyes narrowed as she thought of one man in particular.
“I’m fine. Happy already.” To prove it, she leaped into the fray, reaching down to tickle Kealan, who was on Reed’s back. “Gotcha!”
Kealan fell off of Reed. He giggled and squirmed to get away from Renny.
Caitie squealed loudly and flung herself at Renny. Renny scooped up her baby sister, swung her around three times before burying her face in her Caitie’s soft, silky curls.
“I love you, Caitie-girl,” she whispered.
Caitie leaned back, framed her big sister’s face between her small hands and grinned. “I love you too, Renny. Will you play dolls with me?”
“Dolls! Yuck!” Kealan picked himself up off the floor and stood in front of Renny.
Though he kept insisting that he was getting too old for hugs and such, Renny swooped down, yanked him off his feet and tossed him over her shoulder, much to Caitie’s delight.
“What say we go dump him in the water trough, Caitie my girl?”
The O’Brien house once again erupted with laughter and good-natured shouts and teases. Finally, Renny set Caitie and Kealan back down so she could help Mattie finish preparing the evening meal.
Family was important to Renny. Her siblings were all she had in the world, all she held dear to her heart, yet throughout the evening, Renny felt lost and alone.
When the fire died out, Caitie and Kealan, who were both yawning sleepily, were ushered up the ladder into the loft with Reed. Hearing their eager pleas for bedtime stories, Renny once again felt deserted, just as she had felt as a young child, abandoned by the father who’d preferred his military life to that of staying home with his young daughter. It hadn’t been until her father remarried that Renny finally had the security and love she’d craved.
But murder had thrown her life into a crazy spin. It was bad enough to resent her parents for dying and then dealing with the guilt that came with those thoughts, but now she felt abandoned by her own brothers and sisters.
Her safe, comfortable existence had been shattered, and Renny was afraid that she’d never be able to pick up the pieces and glue them back together.
Chapter Two
Twilight settled around Sheriff Tyler like a comfortably worn flannel shirt. He stood beneath the spreading boughs of a lone oak, a dark figure in the purpling hues of dusk. The light of day faded. A hush settled over the land as though Mother Nature held her breath.
Dusk was a time of change, a shifting of activity. The energy of the day was collected, gathered as to a woman’s bosom, then released back into the heavens to create a climax of shattered light.
Tyler embraced the change taking place around him, just as he did each morning when the sun peeked over the horizon and he had a few quiet moments to consider what that day would bring. He welcomed change. Change kept a man alert and on his toes. It made him stronger, smarter and vigilant, whereas a man who never varied his routine or took time out to embrace the new grew stale and old of heart and mind.
It was for this reason alone that he’d taken on the responsibility and role of lawman over that of farmer. Though he dealt with his share of the mundane—drunks, fights between a man and his wife, petty thefts—he was never bored.
He smiled sadly. A year ago, he’d been deputy; his brother Grant had been sheriff. But Grant was gone now—a not-so-welcome change. Change wasn’t always good, wasn’t always
what we wished for, but Tyler was of the belief that man must deal with the hand he was dealt. So he now embraced his new role as sheriff for the small town of Pheasant Gully.
Aside from his own outlook, and the need for law and order, he was also able to keep his brother alive in this way—by combining his brother’s vision with his own to make a difference in their world.
Grant had been content with keeping things the same, enforcing the letter of the law while maintaining a distance between himself and others. Tyler, on the other hand, enjoyed the aspect of meeting both friend and stranger alike each day, seeing what life created and how each person played their hand.
Dealing with petty problems didn’t aggravate him as it had Grant, yet all the paperwork required of his office drove him crazy, which was why they’d made a good team. Until his brother was shot and killed in the line of duty.
He drew in a deep breath. Change. He’d survived. Love and his belief in what he stood for had gotten him through the fog of grief. The very predictable nature of his town had restored his faith in mankind.
He scratched his chin. Yep, he could predict the daily routines of most, from the eldest to the youngest. He made it his duty to know the people of Pheasant Gully. Only by knowing them could he protect them.
His fingers stopped scratching. His nails dug into his jaw. Eyes straining, he peered across the dark meadow. He knew everyone well, could anticipate behavior and reactions with a high degree of certainty—with one exception.
Ranait O’Brien.
Tyler shifted, his calm demeanor giving way to irritation as he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to stare out into the darkening shadows.
He never knew what to expect from Renny, except trouble. And tonight was no different. She was late.
Again.
Which irritated the hell out of him. He strode off into the darkness, away from town. But after a few steps, he stopped and stared around him. Last night she hadn’t taken the usual path home. He’d walked out to meet her and had been left to return to town, alone with his frustration and anger.
Kicking a clump of rock and grass, he returned to the proud oak tree that graced the small meadow. A small buzz near his ear made him swipe at the air to move the insect along.
Pulling his pipe from his shirt pocket, he struck a match. The flare of light revealed strong, rugged features and hard eyes that glittered for just a moment. He had to admit, if only to himself, that dealing with Renny O’Brien could never be considered boring.
He made a rude sound in the back of his throat. In this one matter, he’d prefer some semblance of routine and conformity. And hell, while he was wishing for the impossible, he’d gladly take some respect from the hotheaded O’Brien woman, who kept him dancing on his toes like a well-trained ballerina.
The image of a small figurine spinning slowly to a tune he couldn’t remember flitted across his mind. His mother used to stare at the dancing figurine that her own mother had given her. As the ballerina went ’round and ’round, she’d sometimes sigh as though with regret.
Tyler knew she’d once been a dancer with dreams of dancing for a living but had given up that dream when she married and moved west with her new husband.
The sudden rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker shattered the peace. Tyler glanced up, but the thick boughs that held hundreds of oak leaves hid the bird. The irritating racket drove away the sadness that he still felt when he thought of his mother, who’d passed away when he’d been on the cusp between boy and man.
Bending down, he picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the branches, not to hit the bird but to drive it away. If he had to stand here and stew, he preferred to do it in silence.
Once again he scanned the darkening meadow. There was no doubt in his mind that Renny was deliberately provoking him by returning to town late.
Tyler folded his arms across his chest and drew deeply from the stem of his pipe. The burning tobacco glowed hot, like the anger welling from deep inside him. He narrowed his eyes as he searched the shadows for Renny.
No sign of her. He glared at the horizon, then paced. With each passing minute his anger grew. A sting on the side of his face made him smack himself to kill the mosquito that had bit him.
“Dammit! A man oughta be able to relax in his chair in the evening and not be stuck out here fighting damn bugs.” He thought of his meal waiting at home for him, likely stone-cold by now.
“Should just go.” But he couldn’t. He’d promised Mattie that he’d make sure Renny arrived home safely each evening, even though Renny insisted that she was a grown woman and didn’t need looking after. Still, she’d agreed to return to the boardinghouse at the same time, via the same route, each evening, so he and Mattie wouldn’t worry.
He gave a small bark of laughter. Worrying over Renny wasn’t new. Neither was waiting for her. For the fourth night in a row, Renny had changed her routine. Last night she’d arrived south of his position. Night before, she’d slipped into town much earlier, leaving him waiting for hours before he went to the boardinghouse to find that she’d once again returned without him knowing. She was going out of her way to inconvenience him.
Tyler laughed shortly. Nothing new there. Renny went out of her way to inconvenience him whenever and however she could. The woman was bullheaded, unafraid to take on the world—or him. It was a trait he admired despite himself.
Renny was well liked by everyone, always polite, kind and helpful, except to him. Tyler stared at the pipe, eyes fixed on the glowing embers. Him, she hated.
“Never meant to hurt her,” he said. Hearing the words spoken out loud didn’t ease the ache in his heart. He needed Renny to forgive him, or at least attempt to understand why he’d tried to take her three young siblings from her last year.
Staring up at the stars appearing in the night sky, Tyler knew that what was done was done. There was no changing the past and, it seemed, no getting through to Renny. The woman wouldn’t give him the time of day, let alone sit still in his presence long enough to allow him to explain that he had just been trying to help the O’Brien family, that he couldn’t stand by and watch their pride cause them to make the same mistake he and Grant had made when they’d lost their parents.
Tyler leaned back against the lone oak in the meadow and inhaled the aromatic blend of tobacco and spice. He blew a ring of smoke upward, watched it waver, then fade into nothing. Memories of other nights, in another time, another place, rolled across his mind…
Harsh hacking coughs shattered the stillness. Tyler closed his eyes tight against the tears trying to burst through the fragile control of a fourteen-year-old boy trying so hard to be a man.
The creaking of a rocker on the porch stilled for one moment. He held his breath. When the coughing inside the house stopped, the rhythmic rocking began. Opening his eyes, he stared at the climbing roses just beginning to bud after the harsh winter. He sprawled lower in the porch swing.
“Ma’s sleeping.” A young girl with dark, golden hair stepped onto the porch, shutting the door gently behind her.
Tyler saw the gleam of tears streaking her young face. He held out his arms and caught Gracie in an awkward but comforting hug meant as much for himself as her. Over her head, he met his older brother’s somber gray gaze. Death wasn’t far from claiming their mother. Over the harsh winter, the same illness had taken their father.
Staring at the nearly barren vines of the climbing roses that come spring would cover the tiny porch with bloom and scent, Tyler knew his ma wouldn’t make it to spring—would never again sit here on her beloved porch swing and inhale the sweet scent of blooming roses.
Tyler tightened his arms around his much younger half-sister, his hand gently stroking hair a shade lighter than his own as her tears soaked his shirt. Across from him, Grant rocked and smoked the pipe that had been their father’s. Soon, very soon, th
e Tilly children would be on their own.
A sharp, creaky squeak brought Tyler out of his bittersweet memories. Across the meadow he spotted the schoolmarm, Miss Marley, leaving the church that doubled as schoolhouse. She was on the plump side and laden with an armful of books and tablets. The wooden stairs protested her firm, pounding steps.
Out of habit, Tyler pulled out his pocketwatch. Yep, precisely six. Not a minute after, not a minute before. You could tell time by Miss Marley’s schedule.
And that thought reminded him why he was still standing beneath the oak tree. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it was well past suppertime. Tyler decided that enough was enough. It was time to put an end to Renny’s petty games and make her listen to him.
The schoolmarm approached. “Evening, Miss Marley,” he called out. He didn’t want his presence in the shadows to startle her.
Eugene Marley, prim and proper in gray, stopped crisply in front of him. “Good evening, Sheriff,” she said, her voice stiff and formal. She sniffed and turned her head, her way of indicating her aversion to his pipe.
He lowered the pipe, holding it behind his back. “Lovely night.” Tyler eyed the stack of books and knew she’d be putting in time this evening planning her lessons.
“How are your students these days? Enjoying their new classroom?”
When the townsmen had rebuilt the church, which had burned nearly to the ground a few weeks ago, they’d added on a separate room to be used as the schoolroom during the week, and for meetings and socials when school was not in session.
Eugene Marley shuffled her load. “Restless today, Sheriff.”
“Blame the weather. Day was a beaut. I imagine most of the children are eager for school to be out.” He paused, smiled wickedly. “Fishin’s good these days.”
He’d caught three boys playing hooky from school that morning and had taken them to the church, and their stiff-as-a-board teacher, himself.
White Vengeance Page 2