Scotsman Wore Spurs

by Potter, Patricia;

  That same killer would learn that a woman named Gabrielle was also on the trip. A woman on a trail drive was news, and Drew had learned how fast gossip spread.

  “I want you to think back,” he said to Kirby. “Remember everything you can about each of those three men—anything distinguishing about them that wouldn’t have changed over time.”

  Kirby met his gaze, held it.

  “You think he’ll be waiting in Abilene, don’t you?” he said.

  “Don’t you?” Drew replied.

  Day had melted into dusk when they approached the spot where the drive at stopped for the night. Muted pastels colored the sky with whimsical patterns, setting the stage for Drew’s favorite time of day. A slow, lazy time. A time that was normally quiet, peaceful. Restful.

  Instead, chaos greeted them when they rode into camp.

  Two wagons were pulled up near their own, two dilapidated, tattered vehicles overflowing with boxes and furniture. A man dressed entirely in black was shouting balefully at Gabrielle as Honor ran barking in circles around a skinny, whey-faced boy who cowered against the wheel of a wagon, plainly wanting to play with the dog and trying to get past the shrieking man to do so.

  “Jeremiah!” the man warned in a booming voice. “Stay away from that beast!”

  The boy slunk farther against the wagon, and Honor slunk underneath.

  “I am not giving you this baby,” Drew heard Gabrielle shout back at the man as she clutched the child to her.

  “You’re interfering with the Lord’s will,” the man said, drawing himself up rigidly. “And you, woman, should be ashamed, dressed like a whore of Babylon.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Kirby interrupted pleasantly. “I’d think a whore of Babylon might be wearing fewer clothes.”

  The man spun around, his face mottled with anger. He struggled to control it as he noted Kirby’s air of command. “At last, a man in authority,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll agree that the little savage should go with us.”

  “Savage?” Drew said softly. “I think savagery has to be taught, and it’s not always the province of your American Indian.”

  The man whirled to face him and drew himself up straight. “I’m the Reverend Joseph Dander. I understand that the infant is an orphan, and I’m demanding that you give him to us to be raised righteously.”

  “Demanding?” Kirby said in a tone every hand on the drive would have recognized as dangerous.

  “Demanding,” the man replied, oblivious. “We’ve come to bring the Word to the savages. You can’t stand in the way of the Lord.”

  Kirby’s eyes cut to the boy cowering near the wagon wheel.

  “The others sitting in the reverend’s party—three women, four other men, two older boys, and a girl—looked on with anxious expressions.”

  Kirby’s eyes narrowed.

  Drew looked at Gabrielle. He recognized the determined glitter in her eyes and knew that no one was going to take that baby from her. Not without a fight.

  The reverend reached for the child, and Gabrielle backed away. Drew moved forward, placing himself between Gabrielle and the reverend.

  “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Kirby growled at the man.

  Reverend Dander turned to him. “We’ve been called to save the savages.”

  “You got food with you, then?”

  “Food?” The man looked blank.

  “Food,” Kirby repeated. “You want to save them, then supply something they need. Salvation means precious little when you’re starving to death.”

  Drew’s gaze remained fixed on Gabrielle, and he noted her surprise at Kirby’s unexpected defense. The amazement melded into approval, and a small grin soon made her eyes fairly dance.

  “Are you a disbeliever, then?” the reverend challenged, his cheeks flaming with fervor.

  “That’s none of your business,” Kirby said with deceptive laziness. “Be assured the baby will be well cared for.” His eyes turned toward the thin boy with the frightened face. “I would suggest you take care of your own flock.”

  Reverend Dander’s body went stiff with indignation. “The Lord will provide.”

  “I expect you were hoping we would help the Lord,” Kirby said sarcastically.

  The man’s face gave him away. That was exactly what Dander had expected, Drew thought.

  Kirby looked again at the reverend’s forlorn band. “You’re going west with just those two wagons?”

  The reverend nodded.

  “Hell, don’t you know there’s hostiles out there, along with outlaws who’d kill you for your horses?”

  “The Lord will protect us.”

  Kirby’s lips straightened into a thin line. “That might be good enough for you, but what about those children? They look to be starving, and I don’t think they’re so anxious to meet their maker.”

  For the first time, the man’s stiff back dropped, and his maniacal gaze lost some of its shimmer. “We are hungry. We had a broken axle and—”

  “And you want another mouth to feed?”

  “It’s our duty!” the man snapped.

  Kirby shook his head, then turned to Gabrielle. “How much food do we have left?”

  “We’re running low,” she replied. “Just one more sack of coffee, a barrel of flour, a bag of beans, and some remnants of bacon. But we can probably spare a little of each.”

  “I-I was hoping we might get a cow,” the reverend said hesitantly.

  Kirby spun on him. “We don’t slaughter steers—our own or other ranchers’,” he said. “Besides, your family could never use all the meat before it spoiled, and I’ll not waste an animal. You’re welcome to join us tonight for a meal, and you can have what supplies we can spare.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “For the children.”

  “And the Indian baby?” the reverend persisted.

  “He stays with us,” Kirby said, glancing at Gabrielle.

  Reverend Dander visibly struggled between his need for food and his desire to save a heathen. He surrendered to hunger as he sniffed the bacon and fresh bread on the fire. “We would be grateful,” he said stiffly.

  But Drew suspected that he hadn’t given up. Seeing Gabrielle looking helplessly between the chuck wagon and the fire, realizing she didn’t trust the good reverend enough to put the infant down, he strolled over to stand beside her.

  “I’ll take the bairn,” he said in a voice meant only for her ears.

  She hesitated, obviously reluctant, and when she looked up at him, he held her gaze steadily.

  “I won’t let Ha’Penny out of my sight,” he assured her.

  Her eyes searched his in a way that did extraordinary things to his heart, that somehow stormed the barriers he’d erected to protect himself.

  He reached for the child, and without further hesitation, Gabrielle handed him over. He felt nine feet high as the bairn snuggled against him, trusting and content.

  He saw Kirby’s amused eyes on him, felt the reverend’s frustration.

  He closed out both and did what he had vowed never to do. He lost his heart. Entirely.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabrielle kept an eagle eye on the reverend and his brood.

  She’d known precious little about the West before she and her father had started out eight months earlier. But she’d had a university’s worth of education thrust upon her since joining the drive.

  She could eye the newcomers now with something akin to pity. They knew even less than she had. At least, she’d had the good sense to be frightened, to know she was doing something dangerous. And she had been alone, risking no one’s safety but her own. At least she’d thought not. Now she knew that one tenderfoot could cost lives. One mistake could kill.

  Her observation of Reverend Dander’s band made her search her own conscience. Her preconceived notions had been proven wrong. She’d misjudged the drovers, believing that her “sort”—Easterners—had a monopoly on civilized sentiments. Though the drovers expressed theirs in s
tarkly different ways—mainly with curses and wagers and joshing—their courage, kindness, and steadfastness humbled her.

  Kirby Kingsley had also humbled her. She no longer questioned the Scotsman’s loyalty to the trail boss. Although loath to show any weakness, the trail boss was a good man, decent to the bone. He was not her father’s killer, and she owed it to him to tell the whole truth. Perhaps she would have discerned his character earlier had she not been so grief-stricken and obsessed with the convenient belief in his guilt.

  Stubbornness, she knew, was her greatest fault. Once set on a path, she had difficulty leaving it. Her stubbornness was the reason her father had finally consented to come West. It was the reason he had died. Kirby Kingsley was not at fault.

  Kingsley’s startling defense of the Indian nations had astounded her, as had his ploy to get Ha’Penny milk from the cow. Clearly, he was a man who despised prejudice and injustice. And she had committed both against him out of her fierce but misguided desire to find justice for her father.

  Justice? No, in honesty, she couldn’t call it that. She had not set out from San Antonio with justice in mind. She’d only been seeking someone to blame for her sudden, unbearable loss.

  Worse, still, she had tried to use the Scotsman to accomplish her ends. Not deliberately, perhaps. But could he ever see it otherwise?

  As she stirred the pot of beans over the cookfire, she glanced toward Drew. He still held Ha’Penny, and she didn’t miss the tender look in his eyes as he whispered comforting words into the babe’s ear. She wished she could hear what he was saying. She wished he were whispering in her ear. Certainly not until she told Kirby Kingsley the truth, told him everything she knew.

  But when? And how? She would have to find a way.

  Reverend Dander’s gaze followed her throughout the meal, his mouth pursed disapprovingly at her trousers and cropped hair. In honor of the visitors, she used the last of their canned fruit for dessert. The six children gobbled everything as if they hadn’t eaten in a month.

  “Where exactly do you plan to go?” Kingsley asked the reverend.

  Dander shrugged. “Wherever we’re needed.”

  “You mean you have no destination?”

  Dander looked indignant. “The Lord will guide us.”

  “You know anything about any of these tribes?”

  “I know they need the Word of God.”

  Kingsley’s sigh was loud enough to be heard in God’s vicinity. Several of the drovers smirked, and one laughed outright. Kingsley silenced them with a look.

  “They have their own god,” Kingsley said. “They have their own religion, and it’s a right fine one. If you don’t respect that, you’ll never be welcome among them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to my wrangler.” He rose stiffly and strode off in the direction of the remuda.

  Gabrielle watched him, more curious than ever about the man she had been so sure was a murderer. Seen with new eyes, he was far more interesting and complex than she’d realized.

  She gathered up the dishes. She would have to wash them and start a new pot of coffee before being through with her chores. At least she had water to wash with and not just sand. She gave Honor the few scraps that remained on the plates, then turned to walk toward the river.

  She hesitated when her gaze was caught by Drew’s. He was sitting by the fire, Ha’Penny tucked in the crook of one arm and his supper plate balanced on his thigh. His golden hair and eyes both seemed to reflect the firelight. Dear Lord, how she loved him, loved the gentleness in him that he tried so hard to hide.

  Hesitating, she approached him. “Will you come with Ha’Penny and me to the river?” she asked.

  He cast her an ironic glance. “The good reverend will suspect the worst.”

  “He does already,” she replied.

  “In that case …” Drew handed her his plate and rose, babe in arms. “Aye, I’ll come with you.”

  Ha’Penny gurgled, letting out a tiny squeal of excitement, and Gabrielle tore her gaze from Drew’s to see that the baby had grabbed the end of the red bandana tied around his neck and was tugging on it, clearly delighted with his toy.

  “Little Ha’Penny,” she said. And raising her gaze to Drew’s once more, she smiled.

  His gaze burned through her with fierce intensity, but he only looked at her for a moment, before saying, “Let’s go.”

  She nodded.

  They walked side by side to the river, with Honor bounding ahead of them. When they reached the bank, Gabrielle set the pans at the water’s edge, then turned to see Drew at the top of the bank, making a bed of sedge grass in which to lay Ha’penny. She joined him, and they both looked at the baby, lying happily in his cozy spot. His eyes were growing droopy, his movements lazy, and she hoped he’d fall asleep.

  Still looking at the babe, Drew spoke quietly. “Are you sure you don’t want the reverend to take him?”

  Her gaze flashed to him. “To be raised like those sad, silent children?” she asked.

  “There’s something to be said for silence.”

  She searched his features, looking for a hidden meaning in his words, but clouds, scurrying across the moon, put his face in shadows. “Who would want silent children?”

  He rose to stand beside her, and his voice was suddenly tight, as if each word was forced out. “My father used to say that they were the only kind worth having.”

  “Your father?” she repeated cautiously, wanting him to continue. He’d said so little about himself.

  “We were talking about Ha’Penny,” he said. “How can you raise a baby alone? Perhaps it’s best to give up the child.”

  She gazed at him sorrowfully. “How can you say that?”

  “I know women often grow weary of bairns,” he said. “’Tis sometimes best to let them go before they …”

  She waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, she said, “You think I’ll grow tired of Penny and abandon him?” She couldn’t disguise the hurt in her voice.

  He shrugged, taking a few steps along the bank to stand with his back to her. “It’s been known to happen.”

  As it happened to you, she added silently, knowing she was right. Though his words had been spoken dispassionately, she recognized the pain behind them.

  Walking over to him, she turned to face him. “It will never happen to Ha’Penny,” she said quietly. “I have some money, and I can always sing.”

  “With a child tugging at your skirts?”

  Gabrielle supposed she ought to be indignant at his lack of faith in her, but she wasn’t. Instead, she felt like crying. She understood now, she thought, the source of his pain, and it made her ache for him.

  No one had loved a small boy, least of all the father and mother he spoke of in such toneless phrases. But had the grown man allowed anyone to love him? She doubted it, doubted he’d ever permitted anyone to get close enough to give him what she knew he needed. It explained so much—why he kept his distance from everyone, why he had avoided Ha’Penny. Why he was so angry—so hurt—over what he perceived as her betrayal.

  “I will take care of Ha’Penny,” she said to him. “I will watch over him and love him.”

  “Isn’t this maternal streak rather sudden?” he said wryly.

  “I’m old enough to know my own mind,” she said. “And I’ve always thought I would have children someday.”

  He hesitated, shoving his hands into his back pockets to look up at the clouds racing across the moonlit sky. “If you wanted children, why haven’t you married?”

  She spoke past the lump forming in her throat. “I haven’t met anyone I wanted to marry.” Until now …

  “Ah, bloody hell.” He shrugged. “I donna pretend to know a woman’s mind.”

  “You’re just suspicious of them?”

  His golden eyes bored into hers. “Haven’t I reason to be?”

  His words and the brief glance he gave her were full of skepticism, and she couldn’t deny it was deserved. She had lied to him
repeatedly. She had lied to his friend. Though she’d considered her reasons good ones, he obviously did not.

  “I’m going to tell him,” she said. “I’m going to tell Kingsley everything.”

  His head jerked toward her, his eyes spearing hers in the darkness. “Everything?”

  “Aye,” she said, trying a tiny smile.

  His mouth twitched at one corner, but he didn’t actually return her smile. Quietly, he said, “Kirby might well ask you to leave.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “You don’t have to tell him, Gabrielle,” he said. “I won’t.”

  “Don’t you think I know how much it’s been hurting you to keep my secret?” she said softly.

  “It was my choice, lass.”

  “I made you choose, and I’m sorry for that. And I don’t want you to have to keep choosing—not any longer.”

  Drew was silent. She wished she could see his expression, wished she knew what was in his eyes. How she yearned to see again the passion and longing, there in his tawny gaze.

  She swallowed hard. Had her decision come too late?

  “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

  “The man who defended Ha’Penny wouldn’t hire someone to kill for him.”

  “No,” Drew agreed. “He wouldn’t.”

  He could have said more. He could have said that he’d tried to tell her that. Instead he simply looked at her, and as the clouds broke overhead, letting the moonlight through, she saw in his eyes a slow thaw beginning.

  She would have liked to help the thaw along a little further, but at that moment, Ha’Penny decided he’d had enough of adult conversation and let out a loud protest. Honor, who had been lying beside the babe, guarding him, hopped up and uttered a quiet “Woof,” also telling them that it was time they paid attention. Gabrielle walked over to scoop Ha’Penny into her arms, cuddling him, which brought immediate satisfaction to his tiny face. Content once more, he let his eyes drift closed.