Tyler looked wary. “Uh-oh, do I need to move away, clothe my vulnerability, lest you decide to resume your stomping?” He looked serious, his hand going to cover his groin area.
Renny rolled her eyes. “I only stomp feet, Troll.”
Exaggerating a huge sigh of relief, Tyler sat up. He held out his arms. Renny went to him, let him pull her across his lap. “Glad to hear that.” He paused. “Why the frown?”
Renny stared at the slow-moving stream. Weeks ago, it would have been wider, full of melting snow, cold and gushing as it cut a swath through the earth.
Yet now, it seemed lazy. Sluggish, as though in no hurry as it meandered its way through the land. Once, not long ago, she’d seen streams as living entities.
They sustained life, and sometimes they took life. Each river, each stream or creek, had its own sound and personality. This one reminded her of an old woman enjoying her last days.
A nudge from Tyler brought her attention back to him. “I’m not sure. I feel good and that makes me afraid,” she said honestly. “Too good to last.” Afraid that this tiny bit of happiness would be taken from her, that the man holding her was now such a part of her that she’d not be able to survive without him.
The last year left her unable, and unwilling, to believe that anything good would last.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked.
Renny glanced away but Tyler turned her head back to face him.
“All I ever wanted was for you all to be safe. And happy,” he said.
The moment of truth had come. Renny had a choice. She could accept what he had been telling her for a year or she could throw it back in his face and ruin the most wonderful moment in her life.
She took a step of faith. “I know.” She said it quietly, and seriously.
“Can you accept that I still want that? And that I want more? Renny, I won’t say the words. Not today, but I won’t hide what I feel. Not now. Not ever.”
“I know.” And she did. They’d crossed a line that would never be erased. There were words in her, buried, caged. What if she could never say them?
“We’ll save it for another day, baby. Just enjoy what we have right now.”
Renny relaxed against Tyler, happy and content with the moment. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Tyler tightened his hold. “Will you let me explain?”
Renny closed her eyes, afraid of destroying the mood with talk, but she nodded. “Guess I owe you that much.”
Renny was afraid to hear the truth from his lips. What he said would probably make it impossible for her to continue hating him, and losing that emotion would make her vulnerable.
She scoffed at her own foolishness. Couldn’t get more vulnerable than sitting naked out in the open. Reaching for her shirt, she pulled it on. “Can we get dressed first?” She stood and surveyed the area.
Tyler stood, pulled on his pants, then pulled her down before she even finished buttoning her shirt.
“No one is coming.”
Renny twisted in his arms. “That’s right. You told them to stop and make camp. Lots of light left, we could’ve—”
Tyler put his finger over her lips. “You were riding off hell-bent for leather, your sister was upset, the kids tired. I made the decision, for their benefit—and yours.”
Renny wanted to protest, to lash out, but didn’t. He was right. She’d gone to pieces, then—and he’d put her back together.
She nipped his finger gently. “You’re right.” She bit her lower lip.
“Relax. They know you are with me and I suspect Mattie will know that we are fine.”
“True.” Renny still felt fragile and very vulnerable but she didn’t feel so lost and alone. Scared of the future, and of failing, but for the first time in a long time, she felt as though she could share the burden—at least in part.
For now she wouldn’t think about or dwell upon the fact that it was up to her to lead them to Matthew. She just couldn’t face the thought of failing.
So she drew herself in, then gave herself back over to the man who’d managed to enter her barren, lonely heart after all this time.
Afraid of going beyond the moment, Renny pulled her shirt down over her drawn knees. “Talk.” Better for him to talk than her. Her emotions were too volatile, too close to the surface.
“Okay.” Slowly, he told her of his mother and father, how illness took them. Then he told her about his baby sister. His brother, Grant, she’d known as sheriff of Pheasant Gully while Tyler had been deputy.
“You would have loved Gracie,” he said softly. “She was fragile, but so full of life. We had to be careful with her. She was so sickly, but that didn’t stop her from demanding to go outside with me and Grant.” He rubbed his chin on her head.
“She used to love to ride…” His voice trailed off.
Renny tipped her head back so she could see him. “What happened to her?” It was clear from the sadness in his eyes that she was no longer alive.
“She died.”
“Sickness?” Renny figured it had to be sickness if she was so frail of health.
Tyler shook his head, his eyes bleak. “No. She snuck out of the house one day while we were plowing the field. Fell, cut her leg.” He fell silent.
Renny closed her eyes for a moment. She could guess the rest. She’d seen infection cause the loss of limb or life many times.
“Tyler, I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning to look at him.
Tyler let out a long, shuddering breath. “Gracie didn’t tell us, knew we’d be mad that she’d gone outside without us. She was eight. Not a baby, she’d say to us. But dammit, if she’d done as told, or confessed, she might still be alive. She didn’t have to die!”
Tyler fell silent. Renny waited patiently.
Taking a deep breath, Tyler continued. “The cut turned nasty. She couldn’t walk without us knowing, so she pretended to be sick so she could lay in bed. Then she got real sick. The doctor came, he found the cut and lanced it but—”
Renny took his hands in hers and kissed the rough knuckles. “You don’t have to say it, Tyler.”
“Yeah, I do. Still hurts, but you have to know.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “She was too weak to fight the infection. She died. We blamed ourselves. We should have checked her, seen it.”
Renny understood Tyler’s fear now. He’d been genuinely afraid that the past would repeat itself. Remembering her meanness, some of the things she’d said, made Renny shudder.
She turned in his arms. “I’m so sorry I gave you such a hard time. But Tyler, you can’t blame yourself.”
Tyler refused to meet her gaze. “Why not? Don’t you?” His pain-filled eyes held her gaze.
“Don’t you blame yourself for what happened to Caitie and Daire and even Matthew?”
The truth of that statement struck home. Renny jumped up, her shirttails brushing against her thighs. She pulled on her pants then turned back to Tyler. He hadn’t moved. He watched her silently.
“Yeah, I do.” She paced. “Don’t tell me it’s stupid. If I’d been paying more attention, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten ambushed.”
She paced in front of him, her hands crossed. “If we’d gone cross-country instead of following the river, we’d have seen them coming.” She glanced back in the direction where her family waited.
Tyler’s voice dropped. “You go over and over it in your head, finding all the things that you should have done better, or differently, but no matter how many times you replay it, remember it, regret it, it never changes. Never fixes itself. Can’t go back.”
Renny didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. He was right.
“Renny, you can’t blame yourself.”
“I know.”
“But you do.”
Sighing, Renny answered honestly. “Yes.” She stared down at her feet. “Pa used to say that life was often unfair. He was right.”
Tyler stood and came over to her. “Renny, O’Leary killed your parents and there was nothing you could have done to stop it.”
Renny felt pierced by cold. She stared up at Tyler. “You’re wrong.”
Lifting her chin, Tyler forced her to meet his gaze. “Tell me, Renny. Why is it your fault?”
Pulling away, Renny paced. “I told them they had to go there, that I had a surprise for them. Waiting.”
She smiled sadly. “I snuck some food out there, and flowers. Lots of flowers.” She remembered how she’d walked for miles the previous day to gather the armful of blooms that she’d strewn everywhere.
“I wanted to give them a gift of time. Their time. Alone time.” If they hadn’t gone there, if she hadn’t made them go, they wouldn’t have been shot by Patrick O’Leary who’d gone there to bury his stolen gold.
“Renny.” Tyler took a step closer.
“No.” She held up a hand to ward him off. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Not once in the past year had she cried over the death of her parents. She told everyone that she had to be strong, but the truth was, she denied herself that cleansing.
Grief and guilt were her burdens to bear. She turned away from Tyler.
Strong hands closed over her shoulders and drew her back. “You are not to blame. What you did was sweet. Thoughtful. We cannot say why tragedies happen, or if they could have been stopped. Some things just are, and you cannot blame yourself any more than I can blame Reed for Grant’s murder or myself for Gracie’s death.” He pressed his lips to her head.
“Fate decides. Or God, or Spirits, whichever. Point is, there are some things out of our control.” He fell silent.
Logically, Renny understood, but her heart bled with guilt.
“So much is within our control, but we make decisions, and oftentimes they are wrong and others end up paying the price for them.” She knew this well.
Renny longed to turn in to his embrace. She so desperately wanted permission to grieve, to let the guilt flow out of her. But she tightened her lips for fear that Tyler would release the demons darkening her soul.
Tyler tried to guide her into his arms. She shrugged him off and stalked away.
Tyler finished dressing in silence. “That went well,” he muttered as he watched Renny pace along the bank. He frowned as she kicked at some loose pebbles and sent them flying.
Tyler sighed. She was wound tight as a snake ready to strike. Everything inside him longed to go to her and beg her to let him help, but he hesitated to intrude.
He glanced at the horizon. There wasn’t much daylight left and he didn’t want Mattie and the others worrying about her.
After checking that the horses were fine, he strode after Renny. She hadn’t gone far. He stopped a few feet away. She didn’t move. She was lost in her thoughts.
“We’d better get back to the others,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.
Renny turned, her eyes filled with grief and sorrow. “Can’t. Not yet. You go.”
Tyler let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Not a chance in hell am I leaving you out here alone.”
Renny jerked her head, indicating the distance behind him. “I can see the smoke from our camp from here.”
“So?” He crossed his arms. He was not going to leave her.
“So, Nanny Troll, I’m a big girl. Don’t need a mother hen clucking around me. Need to be alone for a while.”
Tyler rocked back on his heels. He recognized the pattern: goad him, make him angry and push him away. “Not going to work anymore, Ranait. Know you too well.”
He glanced down at his booted toes. “And no more stomping. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But you will not be alone. Ever,” he promised, determined to gain her trust and prove that she didn’t have to do this by herself.
Renny looked surprised. Then she scowled. Tyler crossed his arms. “We do this together and nothing you can say will change that fact.” He jutted out his jaw to match her own tipped-up chin. He could be just as stubborn and pigheaded if he needed to.
Renny looked as though she’d love to give him a good stomp or tongue lashing, but instead she sighed, turned her back and walked away. She didn’t go far, just to the edge of his sight line. And he let her go.
Tyler figured his heart was truly ensnared when he found himself missing her arrow-sharp insults. At least when they argued and fought she didn’t look so sad and lost.
And alone.
That bothered him the most. Surrounded by so much family, by so much love, she felt so very alone.
Tyler folded his arms across his chest and finally admitted to being in love with Renny O’Brien. She’d found the way to his heart.
No matter how much she frustrated him, she also fascinated him. He loved her, all of her. Stomping foot, lashing tongue, flashing blue eyes. She was full of life, had an indomitable spirit.
So Tyler did what did not come naturally. He sat and let her be without leaving her alone.
Chapter Fifteen
“Stubborn woman,” Silver said as she stared down at Renny, who gazed out across the stream, unseeing. She shook her head. Her silvery mane flowed around her as she dipped her head, nose butting against Renny’s shoulder.
Renny batted her away as though she were a bothersome insect.
Silver kicked up her heels in frustration. “What are we to do?”
As though in answer, a strong burst of wind caught the strands of her mane and kept them flying around Silver’s strong, translucent head.
“We remain patient. She is strong. It is this trait that will see her through.” The voice of Tate hummed through the air.
Silver shook her head. “Time is short. The journey must be made.”
“You cannot make the journey for her. She must do this on her own.”
Hiding her thoughts from Tate, she knew she’d do much to help this woman. Even break rules.
A low, rumbling laugh came from the wind as it ripped across the land. “You think to hide your thoughts, my friend.”
“You do not know all,” Silver said. Her tail swished back and forth and she pawed the ground.
Silence fell between them. Silver was nearly at her wit’s end. What else could she do? She was pleased that Renny had let the other human close, but she had not let him into her heart. Renny refused to reach out and take what those around her offered. All Silver could do was to give Renny access to what she’d need to complete this particular journey.
“She needs help.” Silver faced Tate, ready to challenge him.
“You are doing more than you should already.” Tate, Spirit of the Wind, one of the four superior gods, sighed gently when Silver remained stubbornly quiet. He understood Silver. She cared much for this charge, this child of the land.
His breath calmed; the air blanketing the land grew still.
“Show her. Give her hope,” he commanded in a gruff voice.
Silver bent her head as the wind swept over her before fading into warm, still air.
Once more she nudged Renny, whose focus was inward, reliving the past, dwelling on regrets and the hopelessness of the guilt that enveloped her.
Look.
See not with your eyes but with your heart and soul.
Let the spirits guide you. I give you the gift of hope.
Silver breathed softly, letting her breath mingle with the air Renny drew in.
* * *
Around her, the air grew quiet and still. Renny sighed. Dusk was settling and there wasn’t much light left. There was nothing more that could be done tonight except reassure her siblings that somehow, someway, they’d find Matthew.
No matter how much she hated the idea, Renny knew it was up to her. Mattie was never wrong. And no matter how much she had tried to convince herself that the spirit world no longer existed, she had to admit the truth: one could not believe in Mattie, and her visions, and not believe in spirits.
All spirits. Including the voices she’d been hearing as of late, ones she’d rejected because it was easier to dismiss and reject that world rather than admit that she was no longer worthy of what she’d once taken for granted.
She rested her head on her knees. As a child she’d taken delight in studying life, finding the ties that bound her with the land. She’d found guidance, happiness and comfort in such simplistic yet complex living.
A long-distant memory stirred. It must have been a dream, for it couldn’t have been real. She’d been a child with a companion—a beautiful silvery-white horse that came to her in her dreams.
She ridden that horse, soared through the heavens. Once she’d also thought the magnificent animal had walked beside her during the day, as well as during the night. The images and feelings of comfort and friendship were still strong. She’d never told anyone, even though she’d been taught about animal helpmates.
As a young girl, she’d wanted to believe that she had a helpmate, a horse that walked beside her in her journey through life. She grimaced. The dreams were just that: dreams of a child who’d loved horses. Yet somewhere deep in her heart, she still believed in the ways of the Sioux. But after the death of her parents, she’d cut herself off from that world. She’d felt betrayed, and guilty. She no longer felt worthy of that world where pureness of the heart was revered.
Sitting there, alone, Renny tried to recapture that simple way of life, but the fear of failure kept her from concentrating. What would she do if they were too late to save Matthew? Could she be strong enough to sustain them all? Again?
White Vengeance Page 14