by Linda Broday
The lawyer pocketed the money. “I’ll start on it today.”
Shaking Jones’s hand, Rand opened the door. He was anxious to hear what Coop had found out. As he stepped onto the boardwalk, he plowed into Cooper.
“What did you find out from the stranger?”
“Rand, you barge through life like you’re on a bucking bronc, hanging on for all you’re worth,” Cooper said, straightening his crooked tin star. “Never ask me how things are at the Long Odds or how Delta is these days. It’s pretty rude, if you ask me.”
A long sigh left Rand’s mouth. “How’s the ranch?”
“Fine.”
“How’s Delta doing?”
“Fine. About ready to explode and crankier than all get-out.” Cooper took a sack of lemon drops from his pocket. “Want one?”
“Nope.” Though Rand chafed at the delay, he knew better than to try to hurry his brother. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “Well?”
“Relax. The man is no cause for concern.”
“Why the hell not? He scared Callie half out of her wits.”
Cooper’s gaze scanned the growing crowd. “Tom Mason is his name. He’s a retired Pinkerton and claims he’s looking for someone.”
“Are you buying that wagonload of manure? Because I’m sure not. I’ll bet everything I have he’s connected to Nate Fleming.”
“Damn it, Rand, settle down and listen. You always were the impatient one, the one who always thought he was right, the one who never could stand to wait more than three seconds for anything. You don’t listen to reason, either.”
“I didn’t come to town for a character assessment.” Seething, Rand leaned against a post that held up the overhang from the establishment’s roof. “What about this Mason? Who’s he looking for?”
“Brett. Mason wants to find our brother.”
Twenty-three
Alarms went off in Rand’s head as he digested the information. “You didn’t tell him where Brett is, did you?”
“Nope.” Cooper stuck the sack of lemon drops back into his pocket. “Want to check him out first, make sure he doesn’t mean our baby brother any harm. It’s my job to see to it, and I will.”
“Why is it your job? I’m just as capable as you.”
“I know that, but number one, I’m the sheriff, and number two, I’m the oldest and I’ve always looked out for you and Brett. Figure I always will.”
“I’m a bit old for a nursemaid,” Rand said dryly. “Stop treating me like I’m still wet behind the ears.”
“Don’t mean to. Just a habit, I reckon.”
“Well, try to break it.” Rand lifted his hat and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Why would Mason be looking for Brett, anyway?”
“Wouldn’t say. Insisted it was confidential.”
“Horsefeathers! What do you think, Coop? If Mason is who he says, what business could he have with Brett?”
“I took the fellow’s measure and I’m inclined to believe him. Probably has to do with Brett’s horses—heard about the fine stock on the Wild Horse and wants to buy some. Or maybe he wants to pay him some money. Hell, I don’t know. I’ll ride out and ask Brett if he can shed any light on this.”
Rand pushed away from the post. He had a lot to do and he didn’t have time to waste. “I’d watch that man, Coop. Don’t let him near Brett.”
Cooper bristled. “You want my job, Rand?”
“Nope.”
“Then quit telling me how to do it.”
Leaving seemed an excellent idea. Rand wove through the crowd toward the mercantile, where he picked out a pretty new dress for Callie, a deep rose with a row of lace around the collar. Then he ordered some furniture for the room that would be his son’s and the pretty wallpaper Callie had chosen earlier.
After adding various and sundry other purchases to the bill, he told John Abercrombie he’d be back to get them later.
“I’ll have ’em ready.” The mercantile owner waved and moved to the next customer.
Lively music greeted Rand when he stepped onto the boardwalk. He stopped for a moment to watch couples who broke into dance. He’d promised a dance to Callie, and he meant to do just that as soon as he fetched her from Mabel’s.
With anticipation of holding Callie in his arms, Rand turned his boots toward the boardinghouse and his family.
Minutes later, he strolled into Mabel’s. Callie’s smile warmed his heart. She was so pretty, sitting there in the parlor with the sunlight streaming through the window bringing out the auburn streaks in her brown hair. The baby lay beside her on the settee, happy as a lark. Busy playing at Callie’s feet, Toby looked up and grinned. The boy was playing with the top Rand had made for him and was getting the hang of keeping it spinning.
“Look, Papa, I can do it real good.”
Papa. The word settled in Rand’s heart like silt drifting to a riverbed after it had been disturbed. This woman and these children were his whole world. He wouldn’t want to keep living if something happened to them.
“You sure can, son. You make me very proud.” Rand turned to Callie. “We should probably head home soon. I have lots to tell you on the way.”
Callie gathered little Wren and stood. “Did you get everything done that you came for?”
“Yep.” He took the baby from her and settled the child in the crook of his arm. “We’ll just swing by the mercantile and collect our purchases on our way out.”
She nodded and turned to Mabel King. “Thank you for your hospitality. I enjoyed getting to know you.”
Mabel hugged her. “Stop by the next time you come to town, dear. I’ll have some tea waiting for you. And I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Jenny Barclay. She has a boy about Toby’s age. Ben and Toby will make quite a pair.”
“I’d love to meet Jenny. She sounds lovely.”
Rand’s arm slid around his wife’s waist. “Thanks for giving Callie and the children a place to rest. We’ll see you next time, Mabel.”
Outside the house, Rand herded them toward the street musicians. “I promised to dance with you, Mrs. Sinclair, and I aim to do just that. Besides, if we don’t show our appreciation, the fiddlers will get their feelings hurt.”
Callie colored. “Have you forgotten about the baby?”
“I haven’t forgotten about anything.” He aimed Toby toward a bench in front of the Lexington Arms Hotel and plopped Wren in the boy’s lap. “We won’t be long.”
Then he swung Callie into the thick of the dancers, her skirt swirling around his feet. The waltz seemed to be made for them. He held her close and breathed her fragrant hair. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. Your body moving against mine as music swirls around us. I can feel your heart beating.”
Unshed tears swam in Callie eyes when she glanced up at him. “Rand, I don’t know what you expect of me…of us. I’m sure to be a disappointment.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Darlin’, you’ll never let me down, no matter what you do. I’ll always be proud to call you my wife. I know you’re keeping something back, something that terrifies you. Just know that whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. Trust me with your secret.”
“I just need a little more time.”
“I’m a very patient man where you’re concerned.” He kissed her forehead. “My heart and my arms are always open.”
The last strains of the waltz drifted into the air like smoke through a keyhole. Rand sighed. “Guess we’d better mosey along home.”
When they went to collect the children, Rand could barely see Toby over the group of youngsters around him. Rand heard his son announce to the gaggle of pint-sized minions that he had to take care of his baby sister on account of his aunt and papa were keeping the fiddlers from getting sick of playing music and going home.
&nb
sp; Then Toby announced to his subjects, “My baby sister grows her own teeth too. All by herself. One of these days when she’s big as me, she’ll be able to chew and everything.”
What a boy. Rand’s heart swelled inside his chest. Somehow or another, the county judge had to approve the adoption. Rand refused to consider that he wouldn’t.
They collected their purchases from the mercantile and took the road toward the Last Hope Ranch.
Toby had hopped into the back of the wagon at the mercantile with the packages and sacks of sugar, flour, and meal. The boy didn’t fool Rand. Toby would look through everything for the stick of candy John Abercrombie had thrown in. Rand didn’t mind, though. That would give him private time with Callie. He noticed she sat closer to him, and that made his heart beat faster.
“What did Cooper find out about the stranger?” Callie had Wren sitting up in her lap. “I’m about to die of curiosity.”
Rand told her what Coop had learned about Tom Mason. “If that’s to be believed.”
“What does he want with Brett?”
“Don’t know.”
“Sounds like you don’t trust this man.”
“Nope.” Rand pushed back his hat to scratch his forehead, then told her about his talk with his mother. Callie tucked the edge of a blanket around the baby and reached for his hand. “I’m so glad you got everything ironed out, Rand.”
“Me too.”
Callie’s laugh filled the breeze with music, lifting his spirits. “Sometimes life knows just what to give us to make everything better.”
“Yes, it does.” Rand recounted how his repressed memory came back and the conclusion that his father was murdered.
“What a horrible thing for a little boy to witness. Your mother truly had no idea what happened to you.”
“I can see that now. She didn’t just go her merry way with never a care like I’d always thought.”
“I’m glad you made your peace. What did you learn at the lawyer’s office?”
“Micah Jones thinks adopting Wren will be easy. I may have to appear before the judge and plead my case for Toby. At any rate, we’ve got the ball rolling. Soon they’ll belong to us.”
“Oh, Rand, that’s great news.” The baby began to fuss, so Callie put her on her shoulder and patted the small back.
Rand swiveled in the seat to glance in the back. Toby had been quiet far too long. The boy was sitting on the edge of the wagon with his feet dangling off the end, happily eating the peppermint stick he’d found in the purchases.
Just then, the wagon ran over a big rock and the child flew out, landing in a clump of winter grass. Callie screamed. Rand pulled on the reins and leaped down, barely giving the wheel that was lying to the side a cursory glance.
“Toby, are you hurt, boy?”
High-pitched laughter filled Rand with relief. The boy couldn’t be hurt too badly if he could laugh. The lad sat up. “Whooee! Can I do that again?”
Callie appeared at Rand’s side, clutching the baby. “No, young man, you cannot. You could’ve been seriously injured. Are you sure you didn’t break anything? Rand, check his arms and legs.”
Before Rand could follow her request, Toby popped to his feet. He wiggled both arms this way and that, then his legs. Rand was hard-pressed to keep a straight face. The six-year-old looked like he was trying out for a part in a traveling sideshow of some sort.
“He’s fine, Callie. He thought it was fun.” Rand draped an arm around her shoulders.
“Well, I’m not fine. He scared ten years off my life.” She jiggled the baby up and down to keep her from fussing.
Rand turned toward the tilted wagon. “If everyone is all right, I have some work to do.”
After situating Callie and the children over to the side, he looked around for a sturdy piece of wood to use for a lever. A substantial tree limb would work, he decided.
Everything was going well. Using the big rock that had caused the whole mess of problems to start with and the tree limb, he got the wagon raised.
“Callie, I’m going to need your help. Can you hold the wagon up with this limb while I put the wheel back on?”
She passed the baby to Toby and came to assist. Being so slight, she had to drape herself over the makeshift lever and apply all her weight. But she finally managed.
Rand turned to get the wheel when a loud crack rent the air a half second before something slammed into his head, knocking him to the ground.
He plunged into a deep, dark cavern.
* * *
Callie stared in horror at the snapped piece of wood in her hand and then at Rand’s prone body at her feet. “Rand!”
She knelt and put her ear to his chest to see if he was alive. Only she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart. Dear God, had she killed him?
“Rand, please wake up.” She patted his face and felt the knot on the back of his head. Blood covered her fingers when she finished her examination. Though she didn’t know for sure, his injury seemed serious. She had no doubt that she could get him into the back of wagon, but without a wheel, it couldn’t go anywhere. Trying to still the panic that lodged in her throat, she got a blanket and covered him.
How would she get him home?
Her stomach clenched tight as she glanced up and down the road.
“Is Papa gonna wake up?” Toby’s voice quivered.
“Sweetheart, he’s going to be just fine. Don’t you worry.”
“Can we go home soon? I’m scared of the dark.”
“I know. I’ll have you home before night sets in.” She looked at the growing shadows, wondering how she’d keep her word. Maybe she and Toby together could put the wheel back on. She had to try something.
Telling Toby to watch after his sister, Callie went searching for something else to use as a lever while staying within sight of her children. After several minutes, she located a small downed sapling that might work. She dragged it back to the wagon. Emptying out the basket she’d brought from home that morning, she laid Wren into it. Then she carefully explained to Toby what she needed him to do.
Positioning the sapling just right took a few tries, but her confidence grew when she finally raised the wagon. “Toby, honey, I know that wheel is heavy, but see if you can get it on.”
The boy grunted and strained but finally had to give up. “I cain’t. I’m sorry.” Tears bubbled up in his eyes.
“It’s okay. You did the best you could.” She lowered the wagon and placed an arm around his shoulders. Rand gave a moan and moved his hand.
Callie scrambled to him. “Lie still, Rand. You’re hurt. Toby, can you get me some water from the wagon?”
While she waited, she smoothed Rand’s hair and tried to reassure him as much as herself. “You’re going to be just fine. You simply took a blow to the head, and it knocked you out.”
Rand worked his tongue and finally managed, “Fleming?”
“No, you were putting the wheel back on the wagon and the limb broke, flying up and hitting you.”
He tried to rise. “Have to fix. Dark.”
Callie held him down. “You’re not able. I’ll think of something.”
Just then Toby brought the water canteen. Removing the stopper, Callie held the vessel to Rand’s mouth. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
The clip-clop of a horse sounded. The bend in the road prevented her from seeing the rider, and that sent a frisson of alarm arcing through her. Closer and closer the form came, like a dark vulture bearing down on them.
They had nowhere to go.
She grabbed Toby. “Get into the wagon under the quilt and don’t make a sound. Hurry!”
Sliding Rand’s Colt from his holster, she cocked it. She’d shoot anyone who even thought to do her family harm.
Twenty-four
Standing protectively
above Rand, Callie steadied the Colt and stiffened her spine, ignoring the bunched nerves that screamed for her to hide. But she’d never been a coward—it wasn’t her way.
The white horse came into view first, and the person sitting astride the animal was nothing but a dark figure. She knew how to shoot, and she’d make sure to aim for the heart.
As the rider drew closer, she recognized the stranger whom Rand called Tom Mason. Though Rand said he was an ex-detective, she didn’t lower her guard. Too often people claimed to be something they weren’t.
Mason halted and leaned forward in the saddle. The scar on his cheek was white against his skin, which said it’d been there a while. “Reckon you can use my help, Mrs. Sinclair. Mind if I fix your wagon before you shoot me?”
When she hesitated, Rand attempted to get to his feet, only to fall back, murmuring, “Let my family be.”
“Don’t believe you’re in any position to bargain, ma’am. Your man’s hurt, and I’m sure your children are close by.” Mason’s kind gray eyes flicked to the tilting wagon. He appeared harmless enough, but was he? “It’ll be dark soon. You’ve gotta trust someone.”
Yes, but who? Danger seemed to lurk around every corner.
Finally, Callie lowered the weapon. “A woman can’t be too careful. I’d be obliged if you help with the wheel, then be on your way.”
“I truly mean you no harm, Mrs. Sinclair,” Mason said with a smile.
Callie saw the sincerity in his eyes and suddenly found herself liking the strength of his jaw. It was possible she’d been wrong about him. “Maybe not us, but we have a bone to pick with anyone who seeks to do Brett Liberty wrong. We’ll put a shield around him that you’ll never penetrate. Just so you know.”
“I don’t suppose you want to tell me where he lives.”
“I’d sooner shake hands with the devil.”
“Ma’am, he’s in no danger from me.”
“Then why are you hell-bent on finding him?”
“Afraid I can’t say. That’s between Mr. Liberty and me.”