The McKettrick Legend: Sierra's HomecomingThe McKettrick Way (Hqn)

by Linda Lael Miller

“Yes,” Hannah whispered. She dropped to her knees next to Tobias’s bed, unable to stand for another instant. Tobias had said “them.” He’d seen the woman, too, then, as well as the boy. “Dear God, yes.”

  “She was wearing trousers, Ma,” Tobias marveled.

  Hannah raised herself from the floor to perch tremulously on the side of Tobias’s bed. Fumbled for the matches and lit the lamp on the stand.

  “Tell me what else you saw, Tobias,” she said. Her hands were shaking so badly that the lamp chimney rattled when she set it back in place.

  “She had short hair. Brown, I think. And she saw us, Ma, just as sure as we saw her!”

  Hannah nodded numbly.

  “What does it mean, Ma?” Tobias asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Hannah said.

  Present Day

  Sierra stood still at Liam’s bedside, hugging herself and trembling, trying to understand what she’d just seen.

  What the hell had she just seen?

  Lightning.

  A woman in an old-fashioned dress, standing on the opposite side of Liam’s bed.

  Hannah?

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Liam asked sleepily. He’d protested a little, when she’d roused him from his slumbers in the kitchen and brought him up here to sleep in his own bed. Then he’d fallen into natural oblivion.

  She couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Mom?” Liam prompted, sounding more awake now.

  “We’ll…we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “Can I sleep with you?”

  Sierra swallowed. Travis had gone back to his trailer several hours before. She’d sat down stairs in the study, with a low fire going, catching up on her email, checking in on Liam at regular intervals. Anything, she realized now, but open the family album and come face-to-face with a long line of McKettricks, every one of them a stranger.

  The house seemed empty and, at the same time, too crowded for comfort.

  “I’ll sleep in here with you,” she said. “How would that be?”

  “Awesome,” Liam said.

  “Just let me change.” Down the hall, she stripped to the skin, put on sweats and made for the bathroom, where she splashed her face with cool water and brushed her teeth.

  Such ordinary things.

  In the wake of what she’d just experienced, she wondered if anything would ever be “ordinary” again.

  Liam was snoring softly when she got back to his room. She slipped into the narrow bed beside him, turned on to her side and stared into the darkness until at last she, too, fell asleep.

  1919

  While Doc Willaby’s nephew was getting his medical gear together, Doss took the opportunity to slip into the church down on the corner. He hadn’t set foot inside it since he and Gabe had come back from the army, him sitting ramrod straight on a train seat and Gabe lying in a pine box.

  He’d had no truck with God after that.

  Now they had some business to discuss.

  Doss opened the door, which was always unlocked, lest some wayfarer seek to pray or to find salvation, and took off his hat. He walked down front, to the plain wooden table that served as an altar, and lit one of the beeswax candles with a match from his pocket.

  “I’m here to talk about Tobias,” he said.

  God didn’t answer.

  Doss shifted uncomfortably on his feet. They were so cold from the long drive into town that he couldn’t feel them. Cain and Abel had been fractious on the way, and he’d had all sorts of trouble with them. Once, they’d just stopped and refused to go any farther, and then, crossing the creek, the team had made it over just fine but the sleigh had fallen through. Sunk past the runners in the frigid water.

  He’d still be back there, wet to the skin and frozen stiff as laundry left on a clothes line before a blizzard, if three of Rafe’s ranch hands hadn’t come along to help. They’d given him dry clothes, fetched from a nearby line shack, dosed him with whisky, hitched their lassos to the half-sub merged sleigh and hauled it up on to the bank by horsepower.

  He’d thanked the men kindly and sent them on their way, and then spent more precious time coaxing Cain and Abel to proceed. They’d been mightily reluctant to do that, and he’d finally had to threaten them with a switch to get them moving.

  The whole day had gone like that, though the frustrations were at considerable variance, and by the time he’d pulled up in front of the doc’s house, the worthless critters were so worn-out he knew they wouldn’t make it back home. He’d sent to the livery stable for another rig and fresh horses.

  Doss cleared his throat respect fully. “Hannah can’t lose that boy,” he went on. “You took Gabe, and if You don’t mind my saying so, that was bad enough. I guess what I want to say is, if You’ve got to claim somebody else, then it ought to be me, not Tobias. He’s only eight and he’s got a lot of living yet to do. I don’t know exactly what kind of outfit You’re running up there, but if there are cattle, I’m a fair hand in a roundup. I can ride with the best of them, too. I’ll make myself useful— You’ve got my word on that.” He paused, swallowed. His face felt hot, and he knew he was acting like a damn fool, but he was desperate. “I reckon that’s my side of the matter, so amen.”

  He blew out the candle—it wouldn’t do for the church to take fire and burn to the ground—and turned to head back down the aisle.

  Doc Willaby was standing just inside the door, leaning on his cane, because of that gouty foot of his, and dressed for a long, hard ride out to the Triple M.

  “You ought to tell Hannah,” the old man said.

  “Tell her what?” Doss countered, abashed at being caught pouring out his heart like some repentant sinner at a revival.

  “That you love her enough to die in place of her boy.”

  Doss heard a team and wagon clatter to a stop out front. “Nobody needs to know that besides God,” he said, and slammed his hat back on his head. “What are you doing here, anyhow? Besides eavesdropping on a man’s private conversation?”

  The doc smiled. He was heavy-set, with a face like a full moon, a scruff of beard and keen little eyes that never seemed to miss much of anything. “I’m going out to your place with you. And we’d better be on our way, if that boy’s as sick as you say he is.”

  “What about your nephew?”

  “He’d never stand the trip,” Doc said. “My bag’s out on the step, and I’ll thank you to help me up into the wagon so we can get started.”

  Doss felt a mixture of chagrin and relief. Doc Willaby was old as desert dirt, but he’d been tending McKettricks, and a lot of other folks, for as long as Doss could remember. His own health might be failing, but Doc knew his trade, all right.

  “Come on, old man,” Doss said. “And don’t be fussing over hard conditions along the way. I’ve got neither the time nor the inclination to be coddling you.”

  Doc chuckled, though his eyes were serious. He slapped Doss on the shoulder. “Just like your grand father,” he said. “Tough as a boiled owl, with a heart the size of the whole state of Arizona and two others like it.”

  Getting the old coot into the box of the hired wagon was like trying to hoist a cow from a tar pit, but Doss managed it. He climbed up, took the reins in one hand and tossed a coin to the livery stable boy, shivering on the sidewalk, with the other. Cain and Abel would be spending the night in warm stalls, maybe longer, with all the hay they required and some grain to boot, and, cussed as they were, Doss was glad for them.

  He and the doc were almost to the ranch house when the lightning struck, loud enough to shake snow off the branches of trees, throwing the dark country side into clear relief.

  The horses screamed and shied.

  The wagon slid on the icy trail and plunged on to its side.

  Doss heard the doc yell, felt himself being thrown sky high.

  Just before he hit the ground, it came to him that God had taken him up on the bargain he’d offered back there in Indian Rock at the church. He was about to die,
but Tobias would be spared.

  Someone was pounding at the back door.

  Hannah muttered a hasty word of reassurance to Tobias, who sat up in bed, wide-eyed, at the sound.

  “That can’t be Pa,” he said. “He wouldn’t knock. He’d just come inside—”

  “Hush,” Hannah told him. “You stay right there in that bed.”

  She hurried down the stairs and was shocked to see old Doc Willaby limping over the threshold. He looked a sight, his clothes wet and disheveled, his hair wild around his head, without his hat to contain it. His skin was gray with exertion, and he seemed nigh on to collapsing.

  “There was an accident,” he finally sputtered. “Down yonder, at the base of the hill. Doss is hurt.”

  Hannah steered the old man to a chair at the table. “Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.

  The doctor considered the question briefly, then nodded. “Don’t mind about me, Hannah. It’s Doss—I couldn’t wake him—I had to turn the horses loose so they wouldn’t kick each other to death.”

  She hurried into the pantry, moved the cracker tin aside and took down the bottle of Christmas whisky Doss kept there. She offered it to Doc Willaby, and he gulped down a couple of grateful swigs while she pulled on Gabe’s coat and grabbed for a lantern.

  “You’d better take this along, too,” Doc said, and shoved the whisky bottle at her.

  Hannah dropped it into her coat pocket. She didn’t like leaving the old man or Tobias alone, but she had to get to Doss.

  She raised her collar against the bitter wind and threw her self out the back door. Out in the barn, she tossed a halter on Seesaw and stood on a wheel bar row to mount him. There was no time for saddles and bridles.

  Holding the lamp high in one hand and clutching the halter rope with the other, Hannah rode out. She soon met two of the horses Doc had freed, and followed their trail back ward, until the shape of an over turned wagon loomed in the snowy darkness.

  “Doss!” she cried out. The name scraped at her throat, and she realized she must have called it over and over again, not just the once.

  She found him sprawled facedown in the snow, at some distance from the wagon, and feared he’d smothered, if not broken every bone in his body. Scrambling off Seesaw’s back, she plodded to where he lay, utterly still.

  She knelt, setting the lantern aside, and turned him over.

  “Doss,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move.

  Hannah put her cheek down close to his mouth. Felt his breath, his blessed breath, warm against her skin.

  Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. She dashed them away quickly, lest they freeze in her lashes.

  “Doss!” she repeated.

  He opened his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding be fuddled.

  “I’ve come looking for you, you damn fool,” she answered.

  “You’re not dead, are you?”

  “Of course I’m not dead,” Hannah retorted, weeping freely. “And you’re not either, which is God’s own wonder, the way you must have been driving that wagon to get yourself into a fix like this. Can you move?”

  Doss blinked. Hoisted himself on to his elbows. Felt around for his hat.

  “Where’s the doc?” His features tightened. “Tobias—”

  “Tobias is fine,” she said. “And Doc’s up at the house, thawing out. It’s a miracle he made it that far, with that foot of his.”

  A grin broke over Doss’s face, and Hannah, filled with joy, could have slapped him for it. Didn’t he know he’d nearly killed himself? Nearly fixed it so she’d have to bear and raise their baby all alone?

  “I reckon Doc was right,” Doss said. “I ought to tell you—”

  “Tell me what?” Hannah fretted. “It’s getting colder out here by the minute, and the wind’s picking up, too. Can you get to your feet? Poor old Seesaw’s going to have to carry us both home, but I think he can manage it.”

  “Hannah.” Doss clasped both her shoulders in his hands, gave her just the slightest shake. “I love you.”

  Hannah blinked, stunned. “You’re talking crazy, Doss. You’re out of your head—”

  “I love you,” he said. He got to his feet, hauling Hannah with him. Knocked the lantern over in the process so it went out. “It started the day I met you.”

  She stared up at him.

  “I don’t know how you feel about me, Hannah. It would be a grand thing if you felt the same way I do, but if you don’t, maybe you can learn.”

  “I don’t have to learn,” she heard herself say. “I came out into this wretched snow storm to find you, didn’t I? After I suffered the tortures of the damned wondering what was keeping you. Of course I love you!”

  He kissed her, an exultant kiss that warmed her to her toes.

  “I’m going to be a real husband to you from now on,” he told her. He made a stirrup of his hands, and Hannah stepped into them, landed astraddle Seesaw’s broad, patient old back.

  Doss swung up behind her, reached around to catch hold of the halter rope. “Let’s go home,” he said, close to her ear.

  Hannah forgot all about the whisky in her coat pocket.

  It was stone dark out, but the lights of the house were visible in the distance, even through the flurries of snow.

  Anyway, Seesaw knew his way home, and he plodded patiently in that direction.

  Present Day

  The world was frozen solid when Sierra awakened the next morning, to find herself clinging to the edge of Liam’s empty bed. Voices wafted up from down stairs, along with heat from the furnace and probably the wood stove, too.

  She scram bled out of bed, finger combed her hair and hurried down the hallway.

  Travis said something, and Liam laughed aloud. The sound affected Sierra like an injection of sunshine. Then a third voice chimed in, clearly female.

  Sierra quickened her pace, her bare feet thumping on the stairs as she descended them.

  Travis and Liam were seated at the table, reading the comic strips in the newspaper. A slender blond woman wearing jeans and a pink thermal shirt with the sleeves pushed up stood by the counter, sipping coffee.

  “Meg?” Sierra asked. She’d seen her sister’s picture, but nothing had prepared her for the living woman. Her clear skin seemed to glow, and her smile was a force of nature.

  “Hello, Sierra,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my showing up unannounced, but I just couldn’t wait any longer, so here I am.”

  Travis stood, put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. Without a word, the two of them left the room, probably headed for the study.

  “Everything Mom said was true,” Meg told Sierra quietly. “You’re beautiful, and so is Liam.”

  Sierra couldn’t speak, at least for the moment, even though her mind was full of questions, all of them clamoring to be offered at once.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Meg said. “You look as though you might faint dead away.”

  Sierra pulled back the chair at the head of the table and sank into it. “When…when did you get here?” she asked.

  “Last night,” Meg answered. She poured a fresh cup of coffee, brought it to Sierra. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Interrupting anything?”

  Meg’s enormous blue eyes took on a mischievous glint. She swung a leg over the bench and straddled it, as several generations of McKettricks must have done before her, facing Sierra.

  “Something’s going on between you and Travis,” Meg said. “I can feel it.”

  Sierra wondered if she could carry off a lie and decided not to try. She and Meg had been apart since they were small children, but they were sisters, and there was a bond. Besides, she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.

  “The question is,” she said care fully, “is anything going on between you and Travis.”

  “No,” Meg answered, “more’s the pity. We tried to fall in love. It just didn’t happen.”

 
“I’m not talking about falling in love.”

  Wasn’t she? Travis had rocked her universe, and much as she would have liked to believe it was only physical, she knew it was more. She’d never felt anything like that with Adam, and she had been in love with him, however naively. However foolishly.

  Meg grinned. “You mean sex? We didn’t even get that far. Every time we tried to kiss, we ended up laughing too hard to do anything else.”

  Sierra marveled at the crazy relief she felt.

  “Too bad he’s leaving,” Meg said. “Now we’ll have to find some body else to look after the horses, and it won’t be easy.”

  The bottom fell out of Sierra’s stomach.

  “Travis is leaving?”

  Meg set her coffee cup down with a thump and reached for Sierra’s hand. “Oh, my God. You didn’t know?”

  “I didn’t know,” Sierra admitted.

  Damned if she’d cry.

  Who needed Travis Reid, anyway?

  She had Liam. She had a family and a home and a two-million-dollar trust fund.

  She’d gotten along without Travis, and his lovemaking, all her life. The man was entirely superfluous.

  So why did she want to lay her head down on her arms and wail with sorrow?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  1919

  COME MORNING HANNAH made her way through the still, chilly dawn to the barn. Besides their own stock, four livery horses were there, gathered at the back of the barn, helping themselves to the haystack. Remnants of harness hung from their backs.

  Hannah smiled, led each one into a stall, saw that they each got a bucket of water and some grain. She was milking old Earleen, the cow, when Doss joined her, stiff and bruised but otherwise none the worse for his trials, as far as Hannah could see.

  They’d shared a bed the night before, but they’d both been too exhausted, after the rigors of the day and getting Doc Willaby settled comfortably in the spare room, to make love.

  “You ought to go into the house, Hannah,” Doss said, sounding both confounded and stern. “This work is mine to do.”

  “Fine,” she said, still milking. There was a rhythm in the task that settled a person’s thoughts. “You can gather the eggs and get some butter from the spring house. I reckon Doc will be in the grip of a powerful hunger when he wakes up. He’ll want hotcakes and some of that bacon you brought from the smoke house.”