Angel's Embrace

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Well, well, well! If it ain’t the illustrious Billy Bristol, come back home for a visit. Like what you see, Beaner?”

  The nickname scraped like a dull razor: only Wesley had ever called him Beaner, referring to his skinniness as a kid. He swallowed hard.

  “Cat got your tongue, little brother?” that familiar voice goaded. “Or has that whore of a banker’s daughter been bendin’ your ear? Either way, you may as well clear out, Billy. This ain’t your place anymore.”

  His pulse pounded in his ears. The voice came from inside the house, upstairs, but Wes wasn’t showing himself.

  “Fine way to treat your brother, after ten years of bein’ apart!” Billy countered. His voice sounded shrill, but he had some things to say before this situation got nasty. “Christine and Mama and I figured you might be dead, after not hearing from you for—”

  “Too bad Eve had to shoot off her mouth. It was Eve, wasn’t it?” his twin demanded. “Showin’ up with her belly stickin’ out and blamin’ it all on me.”

  “No doubt in my mind—or Mama’s—that the baby’s yours, Wes,” Billy retorted. He squinted beneath the hand shading his brow, wishing he could see his brother, the notorious outlaw. “Would it be such a horrible thing to own up? To take care of the girl you ruined, and the baby—”

  “Still stupid, ain’tcha?” came the retort, followed by a low, hard laugh. “Still takin’ up for the one who whimpers loudest. Don’t tell me you believed everything that traitor’s daughter said!”

  Billy bit back a retort. For all he knew, other members of Wes’s gang were using this conversation as a cover, while they encircled him from behind the trees. Or watched him from downstairs, with their guns against the window sills, waiting for Wes’s order to shoot him down.

  “All I know is what I’ve seen,” he replied carefully. The shifting of his horse confirmed his suspicion that all was not right. It would be typical of Wes to fire just to scare the bejesus out of him. His twin had always delighted in catching him off-guard, and now that they were adults, his shenanigans would be a lot more dangerous.

  “Why don’tcha put down that pistol?” Billy suggested. “We had our differences as kids, but you’ve surely wondered what Christine and I—and Mama—have been doing with ourselves.”

  “Oh—Mama! Now she’s a fine piece of work!” Wesley blurted. “Last I heard, she and that Wyndham fella were writin’ up phony deeds for homesteads. Saw in the paper where she was holdin’ a lottery out in California to fund some asinine school for spiritualism.”

  His laughter sounded out of kilter. “Guess Mama’s been way too busy to worry about the boy the Border Ruffians snatched away from her.”

  Billy was about to tell him Mama had reformed and remarried, but such information might be an ace up his sleeve for later. His outlaw brother didn’t need to know that her new husband was a Pinkerton operative, either.

  “You’re not the least bit interested in that baby, are ya?” he asked, his anger rising. “You have a sweet little girl named Olivia, Wesley. She needs a daddy, and Eve Massena—”

  “Eve Massena can go straight to hell! Nothin’ but a tease who bats those eyelashes and flashes her assets,” Wes jeered. “And then what’s she do but bemoan the consequences, after I gave her exactly what she asked for?

  “No thanks!” he went on with another sarcastic laugh. “I’ve had all of that slut I can stomach. Got what she deserved, findin’ her daddy strung up in the barn.”

  “No one deserves that!” Billy cried.

  A shot rang out, making Pete dance and toss his head.

  “Worthless! That’s what those Massenas are!” Wes hollered. “Whatever bad happens to ’em, they got it comin’, after the way Leland foreclosed on Mama.”

  Billy clenched his jaw; he couldn’t let his brother see how agitated this talk was making him.

  “So you’re sayin’ this was all Leland’s fault?” Billy ventured. If he could keep the conversation going, maybe he could talk Wesley out of the house.

  “Nope. None of this—none of it—woulda happened, if Daddy had just given them Border Ruffians the horses they came for.”

  His twin paused, to be sure Billy got the point. “It was that simple, Beaner. Daddy was tryin’ to be the hero, standin’ up for his rich man’s principles, but we lost everything that night, didn’t we?”

  Billy’s mind froze. No one had ever blamed their misfortune on his father. Owen Bristol was protecting his family and his prime breeding stock when the Border Ruffians galloped in, brandishing their guns and demanding fresh mounts. If Wesley believed for one minute that those no-account bandits deserved their horses—or deserved to live when their daddy didn’t—

  But his brother had run with the outlaws so long, apparently he thought they were right to take whatever they wanted.

  “You can’t really believe—”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe, Billy boy!” came the retort. “Fact of the matter is, you’re trespassin’! You’re on my property, and I didn’t invite you here. And maybe I’ll defend it a whole lot better than our daddy did.”

  Billy paused, stalling. Did he detect movements from the sides of his eyes, or was fear spooking him?

  “What do you mean, it’s your property?” he called out. “When Leland Massena—”

  “Leland and I became partners, Beaner. He deeded the place back to me as payment for some of the business I did for him.”

  “And what sort of business would that be?” Billy didn’t really want to know, but he needed to find out if Wes’s story matched up with Eve’s.

  “Let’s call it cullin’ out the bad apples,” his twin answered with a nasty laugh. “Folks who weren’t keepin’ up with their payments, or other bankers competin’ against Massena’s bank. Real easy to shoot the man of the family—like the Border Ruffians did—and then scare the widows and kids into movin’ out, so the bank could take over their land.”

  Billy’s jaw dropped. “That’s the most underhanded—”

  “Aw, what do you care?” Wes taunted. “When I saw that piece in the Kansas City paper, about you bein’ the big hero in Abilene, I figgered you weren’t gonna reclaim the place. So at least I kept it in the family,” he scoffed. “Soon as I saw my brother had rescued a family of niggers, there was no use in askin’ you to come home. You’d obviously forgotten your place.”

  Billy bit back a remark, his mind spinning. Had Mama been here, she’d have fallen over in a faint and—

  No, she’d be rushin’ inside to box that boy’s ears, came his mind’s reply.

  And why wasn’t he doing that? What kept him from going into the house where he’d grown up—where it was his birthright to be, same as Wesley’s?

  The breeze stirred the trees around him—a breeze that caressed his sweaty face and whispered in his ear like a guardian angel.

  Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord—the Everlasting God—tires not, nor grows faint! He gives power and strength to the weak, and His understanding is unsearchable!

  Billy inhaled deeply, trying to sort this out: the verses from Isaiah were running through his mind as though Mike Malloy were reading them during devotions. It was clearly a sign from God. And though Billy wasn’t used to receiving such direct messages from the Almighty, he knew better than to ignore them.

  Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength! that confident voice continued. They shall mount up with wings like eagles! They shall run and not be weary! They shall walk and not faint!

  But then it was his brother’s voice taunting him again. “Are ya tongue-tied, Billy boy? Or are ya settin’ there wettin’ your pants?”

  Billy nudged his horse forward. He’d come all this way to see the place—to find his long-lost brother and demand respect for the woman and child Wesley had abandoned. He wasn’t going to tolerate this confrontational talk any longer! God had led him here today for a reason, and—

  A shot whined, striking the ground not ten feet away from
him. Billy gripped Pete with his knees to keep from being tossed off.

  “Don’t come another inch!” Wesley warned. “Like I told ya, this here’s my land and you’re trespassin’! You got a home, you got a job on that Kansas ranch, and you got a family, Billy. You don’t belong here no more.”

  His heart thudded in his chest. Why would his brother shoot at him? That was envy he heard in Wes’s words, but what could he have done differently all those years ago? He hadn’t asked Mama to abandon him!

  Lord, watch over me. I don’t know what might happen next! came his frightened prayer.

  And then, over the sound of his galloping heart, he heard hoofbeats behind him. Another shot whistled past his head, followed by a female shriek.

  “Well, looky here!” his twin crowed. “If it ain’t that purty little Massena gal! She comin’ to save you, Billy? My God, Beaner—you hung behind Mama’s skirts when we was kids, and now you’ve got Eve watchin’ out for ya!”

  “You have no idea what—”

  “Get outta here, sissy-boy!” his twin cried. Billy saw his shadowy form in the window, aiming the rifle. “After all the trouble Eve’s daddy caused us, I’d just as soon shoot her as look at her! Get outta here! You’ll be nothin’ but sorry if ya stay here runnin’ your mouth!”

  Billy glanced back and yes, it was Eve. She looked as terrified as he felt. The image of her red-haired infant flashed through his mind—a baby who couldn’t help it that her daddy had gone bad—and he wheeled his horse around. Surely his brother wouldn’t shoot him in the back—

  But then, this show of bravado—these words hurled at him from inside the house—were the acts of a far bigger coward than he. Any man who’d threaten a woman wasn’t worth dealing with: Wesley would behave even more recklessly if he didn’t get Eve out of here.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Billy, what’s happened?” Eve cried. “He’s gone crazy!”

  “And what would you know about crazy?” Wes retorted from the window. “You had it easy all your life! You never lost your home or got kidnapped. You’re crooked just like your daddy, blamin’ me for that baby! I hear tell it coulda belonged to any one of a dozen—”

  Billy grabbed the reins of Eve’s mount and wheeled it around. “Hang on!” he whispered hoarsely. “We’ve gotta ride beyond the range of their rifles. There might be men in the bushes around the house, too.”

  Billy cantered back down the tree-lined lane as fast as he dared, recalling that Eve had never been much of a rider. The peace and security he’d felt here as a kid was shattered—yet a sudden surge of power was shoving them out of harm’s way.

  They shall mount up with wings like eagles . . . they shall run and not be weary . . .

  Behind them, more shots rang out, ricocheting against the tree trunks. His heart thudded hard in his chest. What would he tell Mama? What could he do now? It wasn’t safe to return—and his twin could track him down when he went back to Abilene.

  He suspected Wes wasn’t finished with him: His twin had always been the type to pick at scabs and reopen wounds—a kid who’d delighted in wringing the necks of the chickens Beulah Mae cleaned for their Sunday dinners. Wes didn’t let his prey limp away and lick its wounds. He demanded total victory.

  “Whoa, Pete,” he breathed as they reached the road. “Let’s go a little farther, to be sure they aren’t followin’ us.”

  He caught the shine of frightened tears on Eve’s face. She looked away, determined he wouldn’t see them, so he gave her a moment to compose herself. He, too, needed to collect his thoughts after that unexpected showdown with his long-lost brother.

  Why have you led me into this trouble, Lord? Will we be like Cain and Abel? Brother against brother, like happened so much during the war? I can’t believe Wesley’s gone so rotten he won’t listen to—

  “You should’ve shot him when you had the chance,” Eve sputtered. Her voice sounded tight and high, as if she was still frightened.

  “I’ve got no gun,” he said, wishing he sounded more heroic. “Never dreamed I’d have to defend myself—much less you!”

  His emotions boiled over then, more fear than anger. “What in tarnation were you doin’, comin’ out here, if you knew Wesley would—”

  “I was checking on you, dammit! If he shot you down, I’d never know what happened to you!” she cried. “The countryside’s littered with unmarked graves where Wes and his men have dumped their victims. After all you’ve done for me and Olivia, I—I couldn’t stand it if you were one of them.”

  Billy watched her gush all this, in a voice that wasn’t shaking just from riding hard and being shot at. Eve’s eyes shone like huge green moons. She couldn’t stop looking at him—as though it really would matter if he hadn’t made it off the place alive.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, honey. Should’ve listened to your warnings, but I didn’t want to believe my own twin had gone from bad to so much worse.” He stroked a tear from her blotchy face. “And what would I have done if you’d gotten shot?”

  His insides clenched—and not just for the baby who’d be without her mama. “I left you at your mother’s for a reason, Eve.”

  The worry in her eyes blazed into bitterness.

  “And I’m sick of her telling me how evil I am!” she spat. “You’d think she’d be glad to have me, after living alone in that gloomy old house! But no, she says my presence upsets her—and that my baby is the spawn of the devil.”

  Her face was contorted with such anguish that Billy had to believe she was sincere—and that Wes was lying about her wayward inclinations. He squeezed her slender shoulder. “Did you love him, Eve?”

  She sniffled, looking away. “I—I thought I could make a home for him. Change him into a decent man again,” she whimpered. “He was so different in the beginning; so considerate and caring after Daddy hanged himself. I’ve known you Bristol boys all my life, so I wanted to believe he was the same old Wesley—ornery, yes, but not cruel. I was a fool to get caught up in the web he was spinning, wasn’t I?”

  Billy’s lips twisted in a rueful grin. He knew just how cunning his brother could be, after being blamed for Wesley’s stunts when they were younger. “So when he asked you to marry him, you thought he meant it? I’m really sorry, Eve,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve that.”

  How difficult it must have been for her facing her father’s suicide, being the one to find his lifeless body. Enduring the local gossip about it—and then learning of her daddy’s misdeeds with other people’s property. Taking a job she’d never prepared herself for, to keep food on the table.

  A girl like Eve Massena, reduced to such circumstances after reigning over a childhood even more privileged than his own, would fall for things she’d have turned her nose up at before. It had to hurt that she’d not only lost her father but had become one of Wesley Bristol’s living victims. The dead ones were actually much better off.

  Eve shook all over, trying not to bawl or fall off her mother’s sorry old mare. She had no explanation for the unseen force that had swept them ahead of the gunfire. Had Billy gotten himself killed, it would have been her fault. If she hadn’t let him come here—if she hadn’t run from Mother’s hellfire-and-damnation sermon this morning and then chased him down—

  —if you hadn’t thought you could outsmart Wesley Bristol—

  —none of this would have happened. She’d still be teaching school, eking out a living with—

  She looked down in horror. Two dark, wet spots were spreading across the bodice of her threadbare dress. Her breasts were so achy and swollen, she wanted to cry about that, too.

  What was happening to her? She was wet in the eyes and wet on her dress and unable to control anything anymore! She’d always been so self-assured, believing she could have whatever she set her heart on, and now nothing was going her way. Wesley Bristol had cast a huge shadow over her life, and she wondered if she’d be cursed forever.

  She turned away so Billy wouldn’t see her pred
icament.

  “You all right, Peaches?” he asked. Then, despite his sun-bronzed complexion, he flushed. “What a stupid question! You’ve just been shot at, so of course you’re upset about—”

  When his gaze moved lower, she wanted to die. He quickly looked into her eyes again, but he’d seen those horrid, telltale spots on her bodice.

  “Eve, you didn’t get shot in—? If one of those bullets hit you—” He nudged his horse close to hers so he could put his arm around her shoulders. Eve was torn between swatting him away and craving the comfort of his touch, until the wail of a baby made them both stare down the road, toward an approaching wagon.

  The woman driving it wore a stylish purple suit with a matching plumed hat. Her red hair blazed like fire in the sunlight.

  “Mama!” Billy cried. “Mama, what on earth possessed you to—”

  “Well, first of all, Olivia needs her mother,” Virgilia Harte replied with a sly smile. “And if you thought for one minute I could stay away, knowing my Wesley was using our home as his hideout, you’ve sadly underestimated your mama, Billy.”

  Eve’s heart thudded. She had no choice but to take the bundle of wiggling, wailing baby Billy’s mother thrust at her. Always a woman who took the direct approach, Mrs. Harte focused on Eve’s wet bodice.

  “I see you’re needing Olivia as much as she needs you. Let’s find you a place to—”

  “Mama, it’s not safe here!” Billy insisted. “We nearly got ourselves killed when Wesley turned peevish, talkin’ to me. I can’t let you—”

  “That’s ridiculous! Your brother might be ornery, but he would never shoot his own—”

  “Please believe him,” Eve pleaded as she rocked her fussy daughter. “I tried to tell Billy his brother has changed for the worse, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Well, he’ll listen to me!” The woman sat taller, arching her neck like a swan in regal purple plumage. “Feed my granddaughter, so he won’t ride out here to shut her up. I’m going to the house to—”