And despite his and his family’s efforts to convince her otherwise, Deanna blamed herself for what had happened to him. Even though Tyler had no concrete evidence against Phyllis Atchley or anyone connected to the Circle A, there was no doubt in Luke’s mind that whoever shot him had been working for the Atchley family.
Luke finished dressing himself, but when it came time to put on his socks and boots, he found bending over still painful. He glanced at Deanna, who was watching him closely. He grinned. She smiled back at him.
“Need some help, cowboy?” she asked.
Luke ran his hand over the bandage that covered his healing gunshot wounds. “Do you mind?”
Deanna knelt at his feet, picked up his socks and lifted his right foot. “I don’t mind at all,” she told him.
Luke looked down at Deanna while she slid his socks onto his feet and then struggled with his boots. A tight knot of emotion formed in his chest. God in heaven, don’t do this to me! Don’t let me love her again. Don’t you remember who I am? I’m Luke, Mae Keeler’s quarter-breed bastard, who isn’t worthy of being loved or respected, who doesn’t deserve to be happy.
His mother had left the Cherokee reservation in Oklahoma when she was seventeen and she’d never returned. She had lived her whole life, all thirty-three years, trying to fit into the white man’s world. She had fought a losing battle and had taught her son that people like them—who were scorned for being different—didn’t belong anywhere, wouldn’t find the happiness other people had, weren’t worthy of love and respect.
When he’d found a home with the McClendons, been accepted by his new family and legally recognized by his natural father, Luke had thought his mother must have been wrong about him. Then Deanna Atchley had come into his life, professing her undying love and giving him hope. False hope. Life had taught him that he was better off alone.
“Well, I’m here,” Kizzie announced as she breezed into Luke’s hospital room. “I’ve taken care of all the paperwork, the nurse’s aide is coming with the wheelchair and the car is parked out front.”
“I’m not leaving here in a wheelchair,” Luke said.
“Yes, you are,” Deanna informed him sternly. “And when we get you home, you’re going straight to bed. Doctor’s orders.”
Luke opened his mouth to speak, then glanced over at his stepmother and grinned. Kizzie knew, perhaps better than anyone, how he hated to take orders. When Kizzie winked at him, he laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Deanna asked innocently.
“Not a thing,” Luke replied. “Why don’t you go find that nurse with my wheelchair. I’m ready to get out of this place.”
A month after Luke’s homecoming, he was champing at the bit to return to his normal activities. But the doctor had told him he couldn’t rush back into the heavy workload he’d had before he’d been shot. Deanna and Kizzie were having the devil’s own time reining him in and keeping him occupied without letting him overdo.
Deanna had been living on Montrose for nearly two months now, and in that time she had gone from unwanted visitor to practically a member of the family. Kizzie’s acceptance of and faith in her meant the world to Deanna. And although Luke’s attitude toward her had softened somewhat, he kept a protective barrier between them. She realized that he was fighting his feelings, working overtime to keep his emotions in check. Luke wouldn’t allow himself to love her again. Maybe he never would.
With each passing day, with each sweet hour spent with Luke, Deanna regained more and more of her memory. She remembered the trial and the weeks following, those painful days after she had lost not only Luke, but their child as well. She could recall almost all of the past—everything except the details surrounding her father’s murder.
She decided the time had come to return to the Circle A. But she planned to steer clear of her family, if at all possible. She hadn’t seen the stables at the Circle A since the night her father died, and had thought she’d never have the courage to return. Perhaps if she forced herself to go back to the very spot where her father had been killed, the horror of that night would return to her. As much as she dreaded the thought of confronting her fears, Deanna hoped this desperate measure would at long last completely free her mind and allow her to fill in that final missing piece of the puzzle.
Despite her reluctance to ever go near the stables, she had considered going there when she first arrived at the Circle A, over a month ago. Lack of courage hadn’t been the main reason she’d stayed away. She’d realized, when she first came home, that she wasn’t ready to take the last step in the journey of remembrance. Not then, when the memories had just begun. But even then, she had instinctively known that once all the other memories had returned, she would have to brave this final moment—this one excruciating trip back into a past her subconscious had hidden from her. Returning to the Circle A stables before she was ready—before the other memories had returned—would have been useless.
But now she was ready. God help me. Please, help me.
She hadn’t told Luke or Kizzie what she’d planned. She knew Kizzie would be upset and Luke would forbid her to go. She’d fabricated a little white lie, telling Kizzie that she needed a day away from Montrose, away from an irritable, grumbling Luke, who hated being restricted by his slow recovery. She didn’t think anyone would check on her whereabouts, to see if she was visiting Patsy Ruth as she’d said she was.
Deanna parked her Mustang half a mile from her mother’s house and walked the rest of the way. Avoiding the driveway altogether, she trekked off into the woods and came around behind the stables. She didn’t see a soul. Good. If she was lucky, she might be able to accomplish her goal without confronting any of the Circle A hands.
The stables had been well maintained, as had the ranch as a whole. Outwardly, the Circle A was as beautiful a ranch as anyone could find in the state, but Deanna knew that looks could be deceiving. There was a dark, deadly secret lurking behind the inviting facade.
She hesitated before rounding the east side of the stables. You can do this, she told herself. You can look at the very spot where your father lay penned to the ground by the prongs of a pitchfork. You can face the past. And you can remember.
Please, dear God, let me remember everything!
The morning sun drenched her with warmth, adding to the heat rising within her as her heart thumped erratically and her palms grew damp. Without thinking, forcing her body to move, she rushed toward the stables and stopped dead still just inside the open doors. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back against the wall and willed herself to be brave. She could be afraid. She could dread facing the truth. But she could not weaken and run. Too much depended on her remembering.
Opening her eyes, she focused on the interior of the stables, seeking and finding the exact stall that had belonged to her palomino, Dublin. That night, she had been alone in the stables when Luke arrived. He had called to her from outside. She had turned and run to him, going into his arms without hesitation.
Deanna retraced her steps from that night. She ran outside, mimicking her actions from the past. Stopping suddenly on the spot where she had stood, wrapped in Luke’s embrace, she recalled pleading with him to leave the Circle A before someone discovered his presence.
“Come away with me, Deanna,” he said. “Leave here with me tonight. Let’s get married as soon as possible. ”
“Oh, Luke, that’s what I want more than anything,” she told him. “To spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Then let’s go, babe. Let’s get out of here now.”
“I can’t. What if Daddy comes after us? He’ll kill you, Luke.”
“No, he won’t. If he tries to keep us apart, I’ll kill him first.”
“Never thought I’d see you here,” Eddie Nunley said.
Gasping, Deanna jumped at the unexpected sound of the Circle A foreman’s voice. She turned and faced him defiantly, determined not to let him see the fear gripping her mind and heart.
�
�Hello, Eddie.” She glanced at the stables and the nearby corrals. “The place looks the same.”
“Does your mother know you’re here?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t inform her or Junior that I planned a visit.”
“I’m sure she’d like to see you. You need to talk to her, DeDe, and try to work things out between the two of you.”
Deanna searched Eddie’s weathered face for the truth and saw that he was sincere. But his sincerity did little to appease her shattered nerves. She’d never been afraid of Eddie. In the past, he had been her friend, her substitute father, her protector. Eddie would never hurt you, she told herself. But a tiny grain of uncertainty formed in her mind, creating doubt and fear.
“I thought that if I came here, to where Daddy was killed, I might remember exactly what happened,” Deanna admitted. There was no point in lying to Eddie when she was certain he knew why she was there.
“And have you remembered?” he asked.
“No, not yet. But I’m sure that I will.” She looked directly into Eddie’s faded gray eyes. “You know the truth, don’t you, Eddie? You’ve known all these years. Who are you protecting? Mother?”
“Why can’t you just leave things be, DeDe? Why’d you have to come back and dig up the past?” He removed his Stetson, raked his bony fingers through his rusty-gray hair and shook his head sadly. “Can’t nothing change the past. Finding out what really happened won’t give you back what you lost and it could cause a world of hurt for your family.”
“What really did happen? Who killed Daddy? Did you do it, Eddie? Did you kill him for Mother? Or did you kill him to protect me? Did you—”
Dropping his hat to the ground, Eddie grabbed her shoulders. Deanna’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened on a silent cry. “Dammit, gal, do you honestly think I’d have hurt a hair on Rayburn Atchley’s head? The man was my best friend. I’d have died for him, but I would never have killed him.”
“Then who, Eddie? Who?”
He tightened his hold on her shoulders. “The worst day of your life was the day you met Luke McClendon. If you’d never set eyes on that young heathen, nothing bad would’ve ever happened. You damned this whole family by taking up with the likes of him. Luke might not have rammed the pitchfork through Rayburn’s heart, but he killed your daddy all the same, just like he destroyed this whole family.”
Deanna noted the rage in Eddie’s eyes, felt the tension in his hard, callused hands that held her so tightly, and realized how desperate he was to protect the real killer.
“Did you shoot Luke?” she asked, her pulse racing madly as fear surged through her body.
“You’d be better off without him,” Eddie said.
“Oh, God!” Realization of the truth hit her hard. Eddie, who’d been like a father to her, had indeed tried to kill the man she loved. She struggled to free herself from his hold, but he shoved her up against the fence behind her and glared down into her face.
“Are you willing to destroy your family—your mother and brother, Benita and little Lauren—for that bastard? He doesn’t love you. He never did. He just saw you as some sort of prize. He knew he wasn’t fit to kiss your feet.”
Deanna forced herself not to scream, not to fight, not to give in to the fear she couldn’t hide. “What if I said yes, that I am willing to do anything for Luke? Would you try to kill me, too, Eddie?”
She saw the conflict in his eyes and wondered if she had pushed him too far. Was he trying to decide her fate right this minute? Was he contemplating whether or not to let her live?
Soft giggles came from close by. Eddie eased his hold on Deanna’s shoulders and took a step back from her. Deanna glanced around him and saw Benita and Lauren walking toward the stables, mother and daughter talking and smiling.
“I’d never kill you,” Eddie said. “You’re an Atchley. You’re Rayburn and Phyllis’s little girl.”
Eddie moved away from her just as Benita and Lauren drew close. Deanna’s stomach lurched and for a moment she thought she might throw up.
“Deanna!” Benita rushed toward her, her hands extended in greeting. “I’m so glad to see you. You must go and talk to your mother and Junior. Please speak to them before... before—” Benita glanced at Eddie, then clasped Lauren’s hand. “Go see that our horses are saddled, while I speak to your aunt Deanna.”
Lauren obeyed her mother instantly. Benita took a hesitant step toward Deanna. “My daughter is an innocent child. You don’t want to hurt her, do you? If you pursue your quest to clear Luke McClendon’s name, you will be sorry. You hold the power to save or destroy your family.”
“You know the truth, too, don’t you, Benita? You know who really killed Daddy.”
“Please, Deanna. Please—”
“Was there a conspiracy to frame Luke for Daddy’s murder? Did my entire family know the truth and allow an innocent man to go to prison?”
“You don’t understand,” Benita said.
“You’re right,” Deanna agreed. “I don’t understand. Perhaps you can explain it to me.”
Eddie, who had stood quietly to the side, stepped forward and grasped Benita’s arm. “Lauren will be back out in a few minutes.”
“Please, go speak to your mother,” Benita said, then pulled away from Eddie and went inside the stables.
“Stay here on the Circle A, DeDe,” he said. “Stay with your family. Fifteen years ago you knew where your loyalty lay.”
“Fifteen years ago, I buckled under to my family’s threats. I betrayed the man I loved because I was so afraid of my mother.” Deanna lifted her chin, her eyes focused on Eddie’s face. “But I’m not that same little girl. I’m not weak and frightened and easily manipulated. Tell that to my mother!”
Deanna walked away. Although she wanted to run as fast as she could to escape the Circle A, she reminded herself that she had to remain in control.
She half expected Eddie to follow her, but he didn’t. When she slid into the bucket seat of her car, she locked the doors, breathed a sigh of relief and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
She started the engine, turned her Mustang around and drove away from her family’s ranch. In twenty minutes, she would be back at Montrose, on McClendon land—back where she felt safe.
The noonday sun glared down, creating hazy spots on the highway. Deanna’s mind replayed the scene with Eddie and Benita. Over and over again she heard Eddie telling her that she would be better off without Luke. The exact words of the phone message that had been left for her the day Luke had been shot. But she’d heard those words before that day. Someone had said them to her years ago. Eddie! Eddie had said those very words the night her father died.
“You’ll be better off without him. Do you hear me, gal?” Eddie shook her gently, then pulled her into his arms. “Ain’t nobody going to hurt you. Me and your mama are going to take care of you. You just do what we tell you to do and everything will be all right.”
“But she will tell the sheriff what really happened,” Benita said. “She loves Luke McClendon. She knows he didn’t kill her father. She saw what really happened.”
“Is that right, Sis?” Junior looked pleadingly at her. “Do you love Luke more than you do us? Are you willing to see one of your own go to prison?”
“Luke had every reason to want to see Rayburn dead,” Phyllis said “Your father nearly killed that boy. Any jury would understand that Luke acted in self-defense. At most he’d get off with a manslaughter charge.”
Eddie hugged Deanna to his side. “The best thing you can do is forget what happened here tonight. Put it out of your mind We’re going to have to call the sheriff and when we do, I want you to tell him that Luke McClendon rammed that pitchfork into your father. ”
“No! I can’t! I won’t lie! Luke didn’t kill Daddy!” She jerked free of Eddie’s tender hold. One by one she looked at the group of people circling her. Eddie. Her mother. Junior. And Benita. She felt them closing in on her, their lips moving, but all she heard was th
e roar of her own heart. Everything began to swirl around and around. Her legs felt like rubber. Suddenly everything went black.
The Mustang swerved off the road at high speed, taking a deadly course toward the fence enclosing the pastureland to her right. Deanna realized, too late, that she had lost control of her car. The Mustang hit the fence, flattening it to the ground. Deanna slammed down on the brakes. A huge live oak tree loomed in front of her.
She heard herself screaming as the car came to a thundering halt.
Chapter 14
The driver’s-side air bag ballooned open, protecting Deanna, cocooning her with soft safety. Her heartbeat blared in her ears like a wild trumpet. Nausea rose from her stomach, burning an acidic trail upward and into her throat She gagged on pure fear. She touched her cheeks, felt for the pulse in her neck and breathed a sigh of great relief. She wasn’t dying. She wasn’t even injured. Or was she? Commanding her trembling hands into movement, she unsnapped her seat belt, eased back the bucket seat, unlocked the door and got out of the car. Staggering on wobbly legs, she stepped away from the Mustang. The front end rested against the live oak’s massive trunk. A sheet of onionskin paper wouldn’t fit between the car and the tree.
Thank you, God. Thank you. Deanna dropped to her knees as gratitude overwhelmed her. There had been times in her life when death would have been a sweet solution to her problems. But not now. Now, more than ever before, she wanted to live. Live to clear Luke’s name. Live for the chance of loving and being loved once again.
Her stomach churned with the residue of fear mixed with relief. She could no more control the sickness than she could the memory flashback that had caused her wreck. Kneeling there in the pasture, Deanna tossed back her head, letting the warm breeze caress her. She breathed deeply, in and out, repeatedly, until the nausea subsided.
Lone Wolf's Lady Page 21