A Reason To Live (The Forrester Brothers)

by McKade, Maureen

  Laurel couldn’t hold his compassionate gaze and stared past him. “I’d be living in fear, knowing Thomas would be back and take his anger out on me. Or my children.” She closed her eyes as sickness churned through her. “I’d kill him before he hurt my children.”

  Creede tilted her chin up and she opened her eyes to find his face close to hers. “Then she’d have to live with the guilt of killing another human being, even if he was a son of a bitch.”

  His breath wafted across her cheeks and his blue eyes caressed her face, making it difficult to think. “So what can we do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He studied her and she lifted her hand and placed it in the middle of his chest, feeling his heart beat against her palm. She became aware of one of his legs between hers, touching her skirt and teasing her with his closeness. Her gaze fell on his lips and hunger exploded, urging her to taste him.

  Abruptly, as if guessing her thoughts, he stepped away. “I have an idea.”

  Although her body crackled with tension, she regained some semblance of control. “What is it?”

  As Creede explained, Laurel’s desire faded, replaced by equal doses of anticipation and apprehension.

  Every bone in Creede’s body urged him to return to the cabin, but this had been his idea—an idea he was fast beginning to dislike. Leaving Laurel, Mrs. Gaddsen, and her two children alone for even an hour didn’t set right with him. Maybe Jasper Thomas was watching from near the cabin instead of having returned to town.

  Sweat rolled down the side of his face and he wiped it away with an impatient hand. No, what he knew of Thomas told him he’d gone back to town to fortify himself with a drink or two while he watched for them to return. Once he knew he’d only have women and children to face, he’d go back to the Gaddsen cabin. But what would he do when he got there?

  Dickens drew the wagon down the main street as Creede unobtrusively searched for Jasper Thomas. There were few people about so it would’ve been easy enough to spot him, if Thomas was outside. But Creede suspected the coward was watching from a saloon window.

  Creede halted Dickens outside the livery and patted the mule’s withers, giving him more time to look for Thomas. But Creede didn’t see him and had to hope Thomas spotted him.

  The liveryman took care of Dickens and the wagon while Creede headed back to the hotel. He wanted to hurry, but forced himself to stroll down the street. Pausing by the restaurant, he poked his head in and motioned to the waitress. It was the same one who’d told them how to find Katy Gaddsen. She approached Creede warily.

  “Since you’re a friend of Katy’s, I just wanted to let you know she delivered a little girl this afternoon,” Creede said in a voice pitched low enough that only she could hear. “Both Katy and the baby are doing fine.”

  The waitress smiled, but it was tempered by the sorrow in her eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You’re a friend of hers, right?”

  She nodded, again with suspicion.

  “How many more women are there like Katy—women that Jasper Thomas has used?”

  The waitress’s plain face paled, but after a moment, she stiffened her spine. “Seven that I know of. He’s taken possession of their land and turned three of them into his mistresses.” She bit her lower lip. “The others either had to leave town or go to work in one of the saloons.”

  She didn’t have to say what they did in the saloons—Creede could see it in her expression.

  “Are you one of them?” Creede asked gently.

  She glanced up, startled. “No. I’m not married so I didn’t have anything he wanted.”

  “Thanks for the information.”

  He turned to leave, but she caught his arm.

  “Tell Katy I’ll be over to see her as soon as I can.”

  Creede nodded. Knowing he probably shouldn’t have spent those precious minutes talking to the waitress, he strode to the hotel and paused a moment, unobtrusively turning in a half circle. If Thomas was watching for him, Creede wanted to make sure he saw him entering the hotel.

  Not wanting to waste another second, he went inside and nodded at the clerk then climbed the stairs as if he had all the time in the world. In case the clerk was listening, Creede unlocked the room and entered it, but stepped right back out.

  Fortunately the hotel had back stairs and he went down them quietly, not wanting to alert anyone to his leaving. He opened the door and cringed when it creaked, then stepped out into the alley. He only had a split second of warning before the world went black.

  Laurel listened to Willie chatter about Rachel, his new sister, while she warmed the leftover stew. Her shoulder throbbed from where it had struck the wall when Thomas had shoved her. She hadn’t really noticed it until after Creede had gone. Nothing was broken, but she was certain it was bruised.

  Willie tiptoed to his mother’s room and peered inside. “Ma and Rachel are sleeping,” he said in a loud whisper.

  “We’ll let them nap until dinner is ready.”

  He tipped his head back to look at her quizzically. “We ate dinner before. This is supper.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Where I grew up, this meal was called dinner.”

  “Then what was dinner called?”

  “Lunch.”

  Willie’s brow puckered up as he thought about that.

  Laurel ruffled his fine hair. “Why don’t you go lie down with them? I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”

  The boy seemed torn for a moment then scampered into the bedroom to lie beside his mother. He extended his arm over her and his fingers rested protectively on his sister.

  Feeling the sting of dreams unrealized, Laurel turned away.

  She stirred the stew while she gazed out the window. Dusk fell and she hadn’t seen a sign of Creede or Thomas. She wasn’t surprised about Creede since the plan was for him to stay out of sight until Thomas showed his hand.

  She knew it was risky. When Creede had outlined his plan, she’d agreed with it, but wanted Katy’s approval since she would be in the middle of it all. Katy hadn’t even hesitated. She wanted Jasper Thomas out of their lives for good.

  Laurel lit a lantern and turned just as the door was thrown open. She froze, shocked to see Thomas standing in the entrance, even though she’d been expecting him.

  “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Forrester.”

  Laurel blinked at the unfamiliar title. Thomas must have checked with the hotel clerk to learn their names.

  “The feeling isn’t mutual, Mr. Thomas.” Acid dripped from her voice.

  Thomas made a show of looking around. “Where is your husband?” Then he deigned surprise. “Oh, that’s right, he’s busy right now.”

  Laurel had counted on Creede being nearby but Thomas’s tone inferred he knew something she didn’t. “What do you mean?”

  Thomas approached her, his eyes lit with unholy glee. “He thought he was being so clever by sneaking out the back door, but I was waiting for him.”

  Her heart compressed with fear. “Wh-what did you do?”

  “He’s been taken care of so I can take care of … loose ends here.” He laughed at his own gallows humor. He took another step toward her. “Starting with you.”

  Laurel took a step back and bumped into the stove. She jumped away, but only far enough that she wouldn’t set her skirt on fire. “I don’t have any land and my husband isn’t in the army so I don’t see why I’m of any interest to you.”

  “You have other things I’m interested in.” He motioned to the bedroom where Katy and her children slept. “Now that Katy won’t be able to perform her duties for a little while, I’ll have you.”

  Fear spiked in Laurel and as quickly as it came, it disappeared. A strange calm spread through her. She was well acquainted with death and wasn’t afraid of it. Before Thomas could use her, she’d find some way to kill him or herself.

  His eyes glittering with lust, Thomas neared her. Laurel automatically backed away and en
countered the stove … and the pot of hot stew.

  ELEVEN

  Consciousness prodded at Creede and his body resisted, wanting to remain in the comfort of floating darkness. However, unease nagged at him, urging him awake. He opened his eyes and blinked his dim surroundings into focus. Trying to remember where he was and how he ended up here proved more difficult.

  The memories slammed back and he shot to a sitting position, making his head and stomach roll. He swallowed back the nausea and lifted a hand to the base of his throbbing skull. Sharp pain stabbed him and he hissed through clenched teeth as he pulled his hand away. Blood stained his fingertips.

  Surprisingly, he still had his revolver. Obviously Thomas didn’t know who he was up against. Creede grinned ferally. Thomas’s cockiness would be his downfall.

  Spotting his hat nearby, he picked it up and placed it on his head gingerly. He forced himself to his feet, moving with deliberate motions. Taking a good look around, he realized he was by the hotel’s back door. Whoever had struck him had left him where he’d fallen.

  How long had he been unconscious? The dusky light told him it hadn’t been any longer than half an hour, but that was time enough for Thomas to ride over to Gaddsen’s. And Creede had no doubt it was Thomas who’d waylaid him.

  Ignoring his pounding head and roiling gut, he half staggered, half ran to the livery. The liveryman wasn’t in sight and he saddled Red with as much haste as he could muster.

  Creede leaned over his mare’s neck as he spurred her out of the barn and down the dark street. The horse stretched into a gallop. Creede’s head thundered with the hoof beats, but he didn’t dare travel any slower. He might already be too late.

  Although he was worried about Katy Gaddsen and her children, he was more concerned for Laurel. Thomas didn’t have her under his thumb and knowing Laurel, if he tried anything she’d fight like a wildcat. With nothing to lose, Thomas might hurt or even kill her. Determination shoved aside his headache and churning gut.

  Creede spotted Thomas’s horse at the same time he saw the lights from the cabin windows. Fear for Laurel tightened his muscles. He considered rushing inside, but Thomas wouldn’t think twice about using a woman or child as a shield.

  Making a wide circle around the cabin so he wouldn’t be seen, he stopped at the creek where he and Willie had played earlier. He dismounted and dropped his horse’s reins, knowing Red wouldn’t stray far with abundant grass and water. His fingers curled around the revolver’s handle, the smooth indents as familiar as his own hand.

  He crept with measured stealth toward the house. At the edge of the brush, he searched the fifty feet of open ground between him and the door. Nothing moved but the milk cow and the scratching chickens. But, more disturbing, he didn’t hear anything—no voices, no baby’s squalls. Nothing.

  Despite the sweat gliding down his back and soaking his shirt, a chill swept through him. Had Thomas killed them?

  A bellow ripped through the air, shocking Creede. Cold dread snapped through him and he sprinted across the yard, not bothering to keep down. The roar had come from a man and the only man inside was Jasper Thomas.

  He dashed around the corner of the cabin and shouldered aside the closed door, exploding inside. The smell of food hit him immediately. And it appeared the food was all over Thomas, from his head to his feet. Creede would’ve laughed, except Thomas had a stew-covered arm wrapped around Laurel’s throat.

  “Come any closer and I’ll snap her neck,” Thomas said, his arm squeezing to demonstrate his threat.

  Creede expected to see terror in Laurel’s face, but calm acceptance shown instead, despite her reddening cheeks from the lack of air. He didn’t have time to ponder her odd reaction, but slipped his revolver into the holster and held up his hands. “Let her go.”

  Thomas’s gaze bounced around the room before settling on Creede. Hatred blazed from the depths of his eyes. “You two spoiled everything. We had a nice arrangement—I took care of the widows and they took care of me.”

  “Did you ask the widows what they thought of your ‘arrangement’?” Creede asked with a twist of derision.

  “They needed me.”

  “You made them need you so you could get your hands on their land and them.” Creede struggled to keep his voice steady. He didn’t know how close Thomas was to breaking Laurel’s neck.

  “No one complained.”

  “Because you played on their emotions,” Laurel said, her tone raspy. “You turned them into your own personal whores.”

  “Only the prettiest,” Thomas admitted. “The rest had to find their own man.” His cruel laughter made Creede flinch. “Or men.”

  His reference to those who’d had no choice but to work in upstairs saloon rooms ignited Creede’s temper. He took a step forward, but Thomas jerked Laurel hard against him.

  “Don’t come any closer, Forrester,” Thomas warned.

  “Let her go, Jasper Thomas.”

  Creede spun around to see Katy Gaddsen standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing a nightgown and holding a double barrel shotgun. Even though her gaze was directed at Thomas, Creede felt a chill at the loathing in her eyes.

  “Katy, no!” Laurel cried weakly.

  “I won’t let you die for my mistakes, Laurel.”

  “You won’t shoot me,” Thomas said with bravado. “You had a hundred chances before and you never did.”

  “Things are different now,” Katy declared.

  Although he’d never had control of the situation, Creede felt it spinning onto dangerous ground. “Put the shotgun down, Mrs. Gaddsen,” he said softly. “You don’t want him to hurt Laurel.”

  “Or Rachel or Willie,” Katy added not taking her gaze off of Thomas.

  “Let her be, Creede,” Laurel said. “Even if I’m killed, she’ll be rid of Thomas.”

  There was resignation in her voice and expression. It reminded Creede of a badly beaten horse that had given up fighting back.

  Suddenly Laurel sank her teeth into Thomas’s forearm. With a bellow of rage, Thomas shoved her away. An explosion filled the room and Thomas fell back, blood pouring from dozens of pellet wounds in his chest and neck. The man’s breath rattled once, twice, then stopped altogether.

  Thick smoke filled the hushed room and Creede coughed, breaking the brittle silence. The baby began to cry, bringing back a sense of normalcy.

  Laurel crossed to Katy’s side and gently took the shotgun from her unresisting hands. “Go and take care of Rachel and Willie. Creede and I will clean up in here.”

  Katy weaved slightly and comprehension seeped back into her blank expression. She nodded and shuffled into the bedroom.

  Laurel leaned the shotgun against the wall, not thinking about how close she’d come to being killed. She turned to Creede. When he’d charged into the cabin, she’d nearly fainted in relief. She hadn’t cared about her own safety, only that he was alive and whole. How could she live with another death on her conscience, especially his?

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “He didn’t hurt me.” She spotted dried blood on his shirt collar. “What happened to you?”

  Creede placed his hand at the back of his head and winced. “He got me when I came out the back door of the hotel. I didn’t expect him to be waiting for me.”

  Laurel moved behind him. Her heart hammered at the sight of his blood-encrusted hair and for a moment, she thought she’d be sick. She reminded herself this was nothing compared to the wounds she’d dealt with during the War. She examined the wound carefully. “There’s no fresh blood.”

  “I was out for less than an hour.”

  Irrational anger seized Laurel. “Head injuries aren’t to be trifled with.”

  “My head hurts some but I’ll be fine.” He motioned to Thomas’s body. “I’ll get him out of here.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No. I can handle it.”

  “I’ve seen more dead men than you ever will.”

  Creede’s stu
bborn expression eased. “That’s why I don’t want you to have to take care of another one.” He turned her toward the bedroom. “Go check on Katy and the children.”

  Like a lamp being blown out, Laurel’s annoyance fled, replaced by deep, lingering exhaustion. Not possessing the strength to argue, she did as he said.

  Katy was sitting on the bed, her bare feet flat on the floor. She rocked Rachel in her arms as Willie pressed close to her side, his young face wan.

  “How’re Rachel and Willie?” Laurel asked.

  “They’re fine,” Katy replied, not meeting her gaze.

  Laurel eased down beside her and studied the baby’s perfect button nose and tiny pursed lips. She lifted her gaze to Katy. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “It was as much for me and Willie and Rachel.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t make my gratitude any less.” Laurel gathered her thoughts. “Will would’ve been proud of you.”

  Katy shook her head vehemently. “No. He would’ve been shamed.”

  “You survived, and that’s what counts.”

  “Then why’d you give up?” Her eyes blazed challengingly.

  Laurel’s heart slammed against her ribs. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw it in your face. You didn’t care if Jasper killed you or not.”

  Laurel couldn’t meet her gaze. As Thomas had begun to squeeze and her body began its involuntary battle for air, she’d welcomed the numbness. There were no memories there. No accusing ghosts. For a few moments, she’d been free.

  Katy set the now sleeping baby on the bed and Willie lay down beside his sister. She sat sideways, her knees touching Laurel, and took her hands in her own.

  “You gave me hope again,” Katy said in a low voice. “You convinced me it was all right to do what I had to in order to survive. Why is it right for me and not for you?”

  Laurel’s mouth lost all moisture. “Your children need you.”

  “You have Mr. Forrester. He needs you.”

  Laurel stifled the insane urge to laugh. “He doesn’t need me.”

  “He cares about you. I could see it in his eyes. He looks at you like my Will used to look at me. It made me feel safe but all excited, too, inside here.” She pressed her hand to the middle of her chest.