by Linda Broday
His gaze found Callie. Kind of ironic that he hadn’t discovered her in town but out on the ranch, where he’d never expected it.
But why exactly hadn’t he looked for his mother after escaping from that orphan train with Cooper and Brett? Even though he was only eleven at the time, he knew she was alive somewhere. He had her name.
Why hadn’t he wanted to find her?
He squirmed in his chair. Maybe he’d been afraid of what he’d find? That she’d reject him again?
Maybe he’d stayed away from her because the truth would’ve hurt too much. Part of him didn’t want to examine these questions too closely.
The uncomfortable ache in his chest made him lose his appetite. He needed some fresh air. Without a word, he pulled on his coat and disappeared into the black night.
* * *
Callie readied for bed a while later. Rand still hadn’t returned. She suspected the question she posed to him about his mother had upset him. Whatever the problem was between mother and son went far deeper than even he had seemed to realize. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut and her nose out of things that didn’t concern her.
But Rand intrigued her. She’d never known a more generous, caring man. It hurt her to watch him wrestle with some inner demon and not be able to help him.
What kind of mother would leave her son in an orphanage? Maybe the same conniving, spiteful kind as her stepmother, Liza. Icy fingers crept up Callie’s spine.
Lord help him if this was true. She prayed that whatever was between the son and his mother could find resolution soon.
She knew what happened when it didn’t come, the holes that hate and anger left. She’d said too much tonight. Except for Rand now, few had ever known why she hid in her stepmother’s kitchen so often. In truth, the room had been her sanctuary. She thought of Cook and wondered about the dear lady. Lord knows, Liza made life in that house a living hell.
Callie prepared to crawl in beside a softly snoring Toby when she heard the back door open. The tension inside her eased. She’d be able to sleep now.
Rand had returned.
Blowing out the lamp beside the bed, she slid beneath the quilts. Memories of Rand’s vivid blue eyes banished the cold from her body. She’d never felt this safe with any man before. It felt real nice. She’d waited a long time for someone like Rand. She didn’t know what to make of it, so she forced herself to close her eyes and try to sleep.
* * *
A cold dawn came far too soon. She rose and dressed, dreading a trek outside for wood for the stove. Making coffee would be first on her list. She tiptoed into the dim kitchen and stumbled over something, nearly falling on her face.
An animal’s sharp yelp sent alarm ricocheting through her heart. She grabbed for the first thing she could find—her broom—and wielded it like a club.
Rand’s soft chuckle filled the room. She hadn’t even seen him sitting at the table. He struck a match. When he lit the lamp, a warm glow spread over the kitchen.
“You gonna beat the poor critter to death with a broom?”
The growling way Rand had of talking sent delicious quivers along her nerve endings. Then a dog’s velvety tongue licked her hand, bringing her focus back to what it should be on: the furred intruder in her kitchen. “Where did the dog come from? It wasn’t here when I went to bed.”
“She.”
“She what?”
“You called our furry friend an it. She’s a female.”
Finally, Callie thought to put the broom away. “Begging your pardon. Where did she come from? If it’s not too much to ask.”
“Found her last night when I went out for some fresh air. She was bleeding. Looked like she’d tangled with a wild varmint. I doctored her a little and brought her inside, since it was far too cold to leave her out in the elements.”
Callie knelt and inspected what appeared to be a scraggly golden retriever. The retriever was covered with ticks and cockleburs. She’d evidently been out in the woods for a long while, maybe her whole life. The hound touched her cold nose to Callie’s hand.
Staring into the dog’s expressive brown eyes, Callie stroked behind the ears and crooned. “You’re such a loving girl, aren’t you? We’ll get you cleaned up and brushed, just wait and see. Rand, she’s so sweet.”
“That she is,” Rand agreed. “Broke my heart when I saw the whimpering, bloody mess shivering by the barn door.”
“How old do you think she is?”
“Doubt if she’s more than a year.”
“What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t told me that yet. She’s pretty shy. But she did say that she likes it here.”
“Ha, ha. You’re a funny man.”
Rand squatted down beside Callie, resting on the back of his heels. “Thought I’d let Toby do the naming honors.”
Only a whisper of distance separated them. With Rand so close, she could smell the fresh air that lingered on him, the faint fragrance of coffee and…shaving soap? She hadn’t expected that, and it caught her by surprise. A quick glance from beneath her lashes revealed that he’d indeed shaved. This was the first time she’d gotten an unobstructed view of his firm, square jaw.
The solid warmth of Rand’s shoulder brushed hers, and a heated flush climbed to Callie’s face. His very kissable lips were much too close.
Getting to her feet before she succumbed to temptation, she glanced around the kitchen. He’d already brought in wood, a low fire burned in the stove, the coffee was made, and a half-full cup sat on the table where she’d seen him sitting.
In the next room she noticed a fire in the fireplace and the pile of neatly folded blankets.
“You haven’t been to bed, have you?”
Sighing, Rand got slowly to his feet and retrieved his coffee cup, taking a swallow. “Had too much thinking to do. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me roaming around all night.”
Anger at Rand’s mother rose. What she’d done, whether she meant to or not, had come near to destroying her son. What was she like? Callie couldn’t help but wonder.
“You didn’t have to do my chores.” She yanked a skillet off the shelf beside the stove. “Some hired help I am.”
“It wasn’t any trouble. I was already up.” He refilled his cup and set the empty pot to the side. “Besides,” he said, grinning, “I left the cooking for you. Wouldn’t even dare make a mess of that.”
“Good. Now sit down and stay out of my way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Still grinning, Rand dropped back into his place at the table. Ruffling the dog’s ears, he said, “You hear that, hound? We’ve just been given a boot to our backsides.”
Grabbing the empty coffeepot, Callie filled it with water and put more on to boil just as Toby wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
The boy noticed the new resident right away. His eyes widened. “A dog! Oh boy! Can we keep him?”
“Her,” Callie and Rand said at the same time.
“I want you to think of a good name for her,” Rand said. “Something real good. Not like Yellow Dog or Outlaw or Bullet.”
Toby squinched up his eyes and glanced around the kitchen, thinking hard. “Biscuit!”
The dog gave a sharp bark and ran up to the youngster.
“Well, I think she knows her name.” Rand grinned. “Couldn’t have thought of a better one myself.”
Callie’s heart filled with love as she watched Toby. He’d needed something to get his mind off his rotten outlaw father. A son needed a father, but not one like Nate. No kid deserved a parent like that.
It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Rand’s mother had left him because she thought herself wrong to raise him. But surely she hadn’t been as unworthy as Nate. No one was.
Nate Fleming had robbed every train, bank, packhorse, and stagecoach he came across, killing anyone
who got in his way. He’d bragged that everyone in his family since 1764 had followed the lawless path. It all started with a pirate grandfather who plundered and murdered up and down the eastern seaboard. Even his mother and his sisters had embraced the outlaw lifestyle. His mother, Big Foot Lucy, had established quite a reputation before the law ruined her promising career.
None of them tended to live past the ripe old age of thirty-eight, either succumbing to bullet wounds or a hanging, whichever came first.
Nate had another think coming if he thought she’d let him drag Toby down with him. Her nephew would get a chance to amount to something. Callie would see to it. She would have, even if she hadn’t pledged that to her sister.
Some things were just right, and this was one of them.
“Toby, don’t get too close to Biscuit until we get these ticks and burrs off her,” Callie said firmly.
“I’ll give her a bath after we eat and get her cleaned up real good,” Rand promised. “Until then, mind your mama.”
“Awww, yes, sir.” Toby sat down at the table. Biscuit’s nails clicked on the floor as she padded over and rested her muzzle on Toby’s leg, looking just as dejected as the boy.
Callie turned back to getting breakfast on the table for her hungry men. But when she realized she’d counted Rand as part of her family, a stillness came over her. She raised her gaze and fell smack into Rand’s blue eyes. The seriousness with which he studied her created a warmth that didn’t come from the cookstove.
What was this thing between them?
Or was she simply seeing something that wasn’t there?
Lord help her if she knew.
Putting away the confusion, she turned to something she understood—cooking up hot, nourishing food for Toby’s and Rand’s bellies.
Rand rose, pulled on his coat, and announced he was going out in the raw, overcast day to milk the cow.
By the time he came back in, she had plates of ham, eggs, and biscuits on the table. In short order, she had them fed and agreed that Biscuit could have her bath in the warm kitchen as soon as she finished the dishes.
A damp chill hung in the air despite the fire in the stove.
A chill that went all the way down to her bones.
A strong premonition swept over Callie, terrifying her to the marrow. Evil stalked them like some wild beast, intent on feasting upon their carcasses.
She couldn’t stop it, not even if she ran as far and as fast as she could.
Death and disaster would hunt her down.
Nate was coming.
Icy edges of fear gnawing into her veins told her so.
Six
The next few days, Callie looked for her mother’s treasure box every chance she got, but still the hiding place eluded her. If only her mother had told them where she was putting it.
On this day, Callie started a systematic search the minute Rand went outside to tear off rotted boards from the barn in preparation for repairs. With the two horses, a cow, and now a dog, he needed a place for them that wasn’t about ready to fall down. He’d already put in an order for some lumber. The new sawmill in Battle Creek would have it cut and ready for pickup in a week.
She thought it smart of him to order only what he needed a little at a time. But then, Rand was not missing anything in the brains department.
Her search for the treasure chest resumed in the downstairs rooms. She checked for loose floorboards and fireplace bricks. Then she began running her fingers along the walls for hidden compartments. Having no furniture yet made it easy, especially with Toby outside with Rand and Biscuit.
When nothing came to light, she stood back and tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes. She doubted the woman would’ve buried it outside, because of the heavy rains that summer. Due to the soggy ground, they’d had to wait three days to bury Nora Quinn Powers. She remembered how impatient her stepfather had been, the way he’d railed at everyone.
Looking back now, she realized the reason he’d fought the delay had been because he intended to marry Liza as soon as possible. That meant he’d known the socialite months, maybe even a year, before his wife died.
And he’d had the nerve to chastise and lock Callie in the basement for three days for letting Marcus Wolfforth kiss her after he’d given that louse Andrew Jameson permission to come courting. Fury swept through her.
She ran to her room and jerked on the coat that Rand had bought. She had to find her mother’s grave. She wouldn’t waste another second.
Marching to the barn, she stopped to gather Toby. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Where to?” The boy squinted up at her.
Callie’s breath caught in her throat. He was the spitting image of Nate Fleming, right down to the same mannerisms. Even had his father’s way of walking. Toby would be very handsome one day.
Dear God, just don’t let him be an outlaw.
Rand leaned against the side of the barn, watching. Though the breeze carried a chill, he’d removed his jacket and now wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. The muscles in his upper arms strained his shirt.
Riveted by the sight of both boy and rancher, she struggled to get her thoughts back on track. “Exploring. Who knows what we might find. At the least we’ll have an adventure.”
“Can Biscuit come?”
“Absolutely. I’ll bet she’s an expert at finding hidden things.”
“Don’t go too far,” Rand cautioned in a low voice. “I’ve noticed a lot of mountain-lion tracks lately.”
“Thanks. We’ll stay close.”
Toby laid down the hammer and they set off. A faint recollection of the house being visible from the gravesite gave her the general vicinity. While they trekked through the trees, she kept a sharp eye out for predators, both the wild and the outlaw kind.
Again, relying on an eight-year-old’s faded memory proved quite a task. She’d scoured several areas before Toby accidentally stumbled over it. With a cry, he landed face-first in a pile of dead leaves and dank earth. She brushed him off while Biscuit licked his face as though checking for injuries.
Though Edmund Powers had promised to put a headstone on the grave, the only thing marking it was the cross fashioned from rocks that she and Claire had laid on top of the burial spot.
Tears pricked her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Her mother deserved more than to be forgotten and betrayed by a faithless husband.
Kneeling, she ran her hands lovingly over the crude marker.
Toby stood watching. “Ma’am? Why are you sad? It’s only some dumb ol’ rocks.”
Callie wished she could explain, but the youngster wasn’t old enough to understand yet that his grandmother’s bones lay beneath the soil. She smiled up at Toby. “I know, but they’re arranged in a pretty cross.”
“Who did it?”
“Your mother and I.”
“She did? Why?”
“To mark the spot so we could find it.” Callie got to her feet and draped an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“I’m sad too,” Toby said. “I miss Mama.”
Callie kissed the top of his head. “So do I.”
“Aunt Callie, why do people have to die, anyway?”
“I wish I knew. I wish I knew.” A strangled sob rose.
Then the brush rustled. Something was coming into the small clearing.
Her heart pounded as she looked around for a weapon.
“Get behind me, Toby.” She pushed him away from the danger, though a mountain lion would make quick work of her and get him anyway. Still, she’d give her all to protect him.
Relief swept through her when Rand emerged from the thicket with a rifle.
She turned and brushed away the lingering tears before she faced him.
“Got worried about you,” he said, peering curiously at her. “Is everything all r
ight?”
“We’re fine. Thanks for coming.”
“We found a cross,” Toby piped up.
“You don’t say.” He moved around Callie to look at it. “I didn’t know this was here. Wonder who put it there?”
“My mama an’ aunt.”
Callie could’ve strangled the boy. Toby looked so pleased with himself and what he’d divulged. “It’s nothing. We’d better get back. I just remembered I was going to bake a pie for supper.”
“A pie! Oh boy!” Toby gave a whoop and a holler.
“Come then. The day’s going fast,” she said, moving toward the house. When she noticed Rand wasn’t behind them, she turned. “You coming, Rand?”
“I’ll be along. Want to check for signs of mountain lions.” He was staring curiously at the grave though and not looking for wild-animal tracks at all.
She kicked herself for not being more careful. He was too smart. The truth she’d sought to hide was most certainly going to be uncovered.
And she didn’t know how to stop it.
* * *
Rand’s gaze followed Callie. Only when she disappeared from view did he turn back to the grave. He’d heard everything. No wonder Toby always called her ma’am and not mama. He wasn’t her child—the boy was her nephew. Though she hadn’t exactly lied, she’d let him think that the boy was hers. Probably to protect them.
So, who was Toby’s mother and how had she died?
And who rested in this grave?
He’d seen Callie’s tears, though she’d been quick to turn away. The person buried here was very special to her.
Did that mean that Callie had once lived here on this land?
This grave and the fact she’d picked the Last Hope as a hideout told him that it was very possible. And the possibility existed that she might even have a claim to the property. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He knew he wouldn’t fight her for it. If this land belonged to her, she could have it.
It bothered him that she wouldn’t confide in him, though. How could he protect her and Toby with his hands tied behind his back?