The Sons of Johnny Hastings Box Set

by Patty Devlin

  Emmalee could tell by the look on Clint’s face that the situation didn't sit right with him. They both felt strongly that Cordelia had as much right as anyone to a share of the bequest. Wouldn’t that hold true for any other poor bastards (literally) who popped up later? They all seemed like good men, but what could anyone of them know about the other after only a thirty-minute meeting? Would they begrudge another sibling’s right to his or her share? If the brothers knew about Delia, would they dig in to protect their piece of the pie, or would they be generous and insist that it be equally divided? She didn’t think Clint would want a fight on his hands. None of the men looked like they came from obvious wealth. They were all ranchers, except Jackson Owens, the lawman. Decidedly, they all could benefit from the money.

  Clint had cleverly interjected his suspicions into the conversation, opening up the floor for a debate on the topic, but none had taken the bait. Maybe they were all decent, respectable men just like her husband. Nevertheless, Delia’s secret would be hers, and Clint would see that her life was made easier with a share of the inheritance after the meeting,

  There was another thing that bothered Em which she had yet to discuss with Clint. How had Hastings known about him—one half of a set of twins—without knowing about the other? Even if they were separated immediately at birth, it seemed unlikely to know about the one who had been taken out of state and not the one who remained with her mother for thirteen years. There were so many unanswered questions remaining and with Hastings dead, along with Clint’s mother, he might never learn the whole truth.

  The journals had to hold the key.

  Murmurs and discussion about the division of Hastings’ personal effects and the journals went on around them. No one was interested in Hastings’ belongings, so the lot would go to charity. That left the custody of the journals to be decided.

  "I'll take the journals," Abel said, addressing Hobart.

  He looked up from his writing and nodded. "As the eldest, that makes a certain amount of sense. They're in that bandbox over on the table."

  Emmalee stiffened in alarm. If Abel took the journals, they might never uncover the truth.

  Clint said from behind her, “I’d like to take a look at those, too, and see what he says about my mother.” Of course, he was thinking along the same lines as her. He was intelligent and rarely missed a trick.

  Abel nodded in understanding, readily agreeing to send the journals to Clinton after he'd finished reading them. Emmalee, who had been taking this all in, saw Clint nod graciously and murmur his thanks.

  As the others spoke amongst themselves, Abel turned to his wife. After a few private words with her, he suddenly left the room. Em thought this strange. Worried that something was wrong, she reached over to Sunny and squeezed her hand in concern. “Is he alright?”

  Sunny nodded, answering quietly. “This has been hard on him; on all of them I’m sure. I can only imagine…” She shook her head, appearing to rethink what she was going to say. “Abel wants very much to know all of his brothers and hopes to keep in touch.”

  Not having a shy bone in her body, Emmalee leaned forward and whispered to Sunny, dying for an answer to her question. “Your husband wouldn’t happen to have a dimple in his chin and a square jaw under that beard, would he?”

  A becoming blush crept into Sunny’s pretty face as she smiled and whispered back, “We’ve only been married a short while. I never thought to ask!”

  Em returned her infectious smile; regretting that like the others, Abel and Sunny lived well over a week away by train. She would have liked to know her better.

  Shortly, Abel returned, approaching every brother and speaking to each one individually. When he reached Clint, he offered a calling card with his address.

  "I hope you'll write," he said. "Come visit, if you can."

  Emmalee looked up at the two men; both seemed to be greatly affected by the experience.

  Clint looked at his eldest brother and said, “Onward to Texas would add days to the trip so a visit is unlikely, I’m afraid. I would like very much to correspond, however.”

  Sam’s voice rising above the others cut her short. He suddenly announced, “I hope you will forgive us, but we left our ranch back in Wyoming Territory unattended and we are anxious to get back to it.” He then turned toward the Marshal and shocked them all. “I want you to know I cleared up that business with Mick Malone, just in case my face looks familiar from the wanted posters.”

  A hush fell over the room as they all stared at the second oldest brother, a wanted man. Emmalee and the others now knew the reason for the earlier tension. She looked at the Marshal for his reaction, but Sam’s wife stood and took his arm, her pride and love for her husband obvious as she announced, “My husband was unjustly accused after acting in self-defense.”

  With no other explanation, they took their check and their leave.

  Unsure what to say, a silence fell over the group. Slowly, one after the other, the couples left. They all shook hands with Clint and gave him their direction, each going back to the lives they had built without the help of an absentee father and the brothers they didn’t know they had. Emmalee wondered whether any of them would ever see each other again and felt sad.

  By the time they were all gone, leaving she and Clint alone with Hobart St. James, Em slumped in fatigue against the back of her chair. She hadn’t realized she was holding on to so much tension.

  “You haven’t taken your check, Mr. Ryan. Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, Mr. St. James, but what I tell you must be held in strictest confidence.”

  “Of course, I am most discreet. Now that your father’s estate has been settled, I am technically no longer his attorney and can act on your behalf, if necessary. Have you had trouble in town?”

  “No, this is not that kind of business.” He moved to take the now vacant chair beside Emmalee, sitting for the first time since he’d entered the office. Looking at Em, he picked up her hand and entwined their fingers, silently asking her opinion.

  “It’s the right thing to do, honey,” she whispered supportively.

  Nodding, he looked back to the quirky older man and announced, “I have a twin sister.”

  Epilogue

  The cab pulled up in front of the three-story Park Street town home at half past seven. Clinton assisted an exhausted Emmalee down the steps as the cabbie unloaded their luggage. What had started out as one medium-sized suitcase for Clint and an oversized carpet bag for Emmalee had grown into a chest and two large bags. They wearily climbed the stone steps to the front door, which Clint unlocked, and they entered the dark empty house.

  The two servants he employed were still on holiday and not expected back for two more days. They left the baggage by the front door and began climbing the curved staircase to the second-floor master bedroom, when a loud knocking sounded at the front door.

  They both closed their eyes with a tired groan.

  “Let’s just ignore it,” Clint suggested.

  “I saw you go in, Ryan. Open the door so I can see my girl.”

  “Papa!” Em breathed in alarm.

  “Damn,” Clint swore beneath his breath, “was he lying in wait?”

  A fist pounded.

  “Better let him in, honey. He’s stubborn and won’t go away until we open the door.”

  Clint stomped down the stairs and threw open the door. “Edward.”

  Ignoring him, Edward Gray rushed by, his eyes searching for Emmalee.

  “Papa.”

  He stopped, eyes sliding to where she stood on the stairs and sweeping over her as if he expected the worst. After a moment, he moved toward her and up the three steps until he could wrap her in his arms.

  “Daughter, I was so worried.”

  Barely able to breathe, she looked at Clint who had closed the door and was looking on.

  “Papa,” she gasped.

  “She can’t get air, Edward. Ease your grasp.”

  Holding her at arm�
�s length, he looked down at her. “What were you thinking?”

  “I thought I’d be back before you knew I was gone. Aunt Henry—”

  “Henrietta came for a visit the day after you left. We we’re frantic. You didn’t think this foolhardy plan all the way through, now did you?”

  “I’m sorry I worried you, but you got Clint’s wire.”

  “Yes, for what it was worth.” He turned his glare on Clint. “My new son-in-law seems less than verbose when it comes to telegrams, I’ve learned. It was so short, I can repeat it verbatim,” which he proceeded to do:

  Emmalee’s with me… Stop

  Married in Iowa… Stop

  Onward to Denver… Stop

  Explanation on return… Stop

  “I could have sent a detailed letter by post, Edward, but likely we would have beaten it home.”

  His response was a grunt. Looking directly at Clint, his eyes narrowed. “Did you see to her correction, son?”

  “Papa!” Emmalee was shocked, knowing exactly what her father was asking.

  “He whaled on your bottom before you married, so I assume he’d handle this the same way.”

  “Emmalee and I have come to an understanding, Edward. Haven’t we, sweetheart?”

  At a loss for words, she could only nod. That they were talking about her being spanked was beyond too much.

  “This cannot happen again, Emmalee Gray! My heart won’t take it.”

  “It’s Ryan now, Papa, and I promise, it won’t happen again.”

  She searched his eyes as he stared down at her. They were misty with tears, and she felt her own well up in response. Thinking herself a nuisance to him, she hadn’t known he cared so much. A tear overflowed as she moved into his arms.

  “I can’t lose you, Emmalee. I need a sweet woman in my life, like your mother was.”

  “But Paulette…”

  “I said a sweet woman, not a fork-tongued viper.”

  “Edward!” his name screeching across the room told Em that her stepmother had slipped in behind her father. Papa ignored her.

  “I’ll expect you to bring her for dinner once a week.” Edward’s demand was directed at Clint, but he didn’t take his eyes from Emmalee’s face.

  “Yes, sir,” Clint answered.

  “And an invitation from you wouldn’t be declined, little missy.”

  “Yes, Papa,” she answered tearfully as she hugged him tight.

  “I suppose I should let you two rest.”

  “It’s been a difficult two weeks,” she agreed.

  “You can tell me all about it over dinner this week.” With a kiss to her forehead and Clint’s promise to bring her by on Monday evening, he took his leave, a miffed Paulette in tow. As the door closed, Em wiped her tears away with the edge of her sleeve.

  “He loves you very much, sweetheart, he just doesn’t always know how to show it.”

  Nodding, she sniffled, at the same time stifling a yawn. “I never knew.”

  “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I can barely keep my eyes open, Clint. It seems we’ve been traveling for a year, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.”

  His arm around her waist, he guided her in the right direction at the top of the stairs. As she moved, she wondered if she would have collapsed without his support.

  Emmalee had never been above the ground floor of his townhome before; it wouldn’t have been proper before they were wed. Now that the chance to admire and explore had arrived, she was too tired to care.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday, with nothing pressing. We can sleep the day away and recover.”

  “Nothing pressing? What about your parents? Shouldn’t we go see them and explain all that has happened?”

  “Not tomorrow, nor the next day, my parents will keep. We are wed now, so there is no hurry.”

  “But they might have answers to all your questions.”

  “I’ve decided to wait for the journals. I may not even mention it at all.”

  “Why?”

  “It would upset my mother, and what would that accomplish?”

  “But your sister—”

  “Delia will be married soon and made her wishes clear. She’ll get her funds shortly and my letter about what I’ve done by setting up the trust. I’ll let her absorb everything and see how that pans out, but I’d like to give her time.”

  “You are a very understanding man.”

  “It’s easy to be empathetic when you’ve gone through the same experience. I’ve just had more time to process it all. I also had a good woman to help me deal with it, no matter the happenstance. I hope Delia will come around one day with our brothers, but if she doesn’t, I can still keep a relationship with her.”

  Walking slowly down the hallway, they approached a set of double doors.

  “I can’t think beyond sleeping in my big comfortable bed, which I know you’re going to love.” He opened the door to the master suite, moving toward the bed where he lit an oil lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in soft light. Sitting on the bedside, he pulled off his boots and slumped back onto the soft mattress. “Mmmm…this bed feels so good.” He groaned in contentment. “I could sleep for a month of Sundays.”

  “I’d like to wash off the dust before I crawl into that clean bed. Once I climb in it, I can’t say I’ll ever get out again.”

  “Behind you, the door on your left is the bathroom.”

  She started toward it, but stopped. “I don’t have a change of clothes. Everything is in the trunk downstairs and in need of washing.”

  “Borrow something of mine, baby. Better yet, wear nothing at all. Just forgive my snoring when you get back.”

  She smiled; he sounded like he was half-asleep already. Taking the oil lamp with her, she entered the lavish bathroom, eyeing the porcelain claw foot tub sadly. With the servants gone, no one was there to stoke the steam furnace to heat the warm water. Most likely, she would have fallen asleep in it anyway. Stripping off her dusty traveling clothes, she washed up quickly in cold water. Wrapped in a towel, she searched his chest of drawers for a nightshirt. Naturally, the man didn’t own even one. Finding a soft shirt, she slipped it on and went to the bed. As she walked, the long shirt tails brushed her knees. It was enormous on her.

  Standing by the bed, she looked down at Clint. He’d pulled back the covers and slipped under the thin sheet. He must have disrobed while she was in the bathroom, because with the sheet draped around his waist, his broad back was left bare. As she slid beneath the sheet, she noticed he’d taken off more than just his shirt. That’s why there were no nightshirts. Her husband slept in the buff.

  Curling up beside him, she sank into the mattress and groaned in pleasure just as Clint had. The bed and pillows were softer than any she’d felt before, or so she thought with several days of rock-hard berths her most recent point of comparison. Closing her eyes, she allowed sleep to overtake her, minimally registering her husband’s long arm curling around her waist and hauling her against his warm body.

  ***

  A warm hand gliding along her belly teased her awake. She opened her eyes to find lapis blue pools framed by long silky lashes watching her. They crinkled at the edges as he smiled. He had his head propped on his hand and looked thoroughly gorgeous with his hair all tousled from sleep and his black scruff of beard shadowing his jaw.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Morning, honey.” Stretching languidly, she practically purred in contentment as she realized she felt rested for the first time in two weeks. She rolled toward him until her head rested on his bicep and she snuggled close. “I slept like a baby. Your bed is amazing.”

  “Our bed is amazing,” he corrected, his arm gliding up her back, pulling her closer.

  “Our bed,” she agreed. Her belly rumbling had her head coming up in surprise. She met his twinkling eyes; he’d heard as well.

  “Hungry? I don’t know what’s in the kitchen, want to go explore?” At her nod, he dipped his head and kis
sed her. “Let’s go.”

  There was very little in the pantry: no bread, cheese, or milk. But Clint found a jar of peaches, some cured ham steaks, a jar of pickles and tea bags, and they made do. Seated on stools at the big butcher block prep table in the kitchen, they gobbled up their cold collation.

  After she’d eaten her fill, Emmalee leaned back and patted her stomach. “Not what I imagined for breakfast, but it sure hit the spot. Do we need to go to the market?”

  Clint gathered up their dirty plates and tea cups and set them in the sink. Walking toward her, he grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him. “Maybe after our nap.”

  Their bare feet slapped the wood floor and then the stairs treads as Clint towed her back toward the bedroom.

  “We just got up!”

  At the top of the stairs he stopped, causing her to crash into him from behind.

  “The plan was to stay in bed all day,” he said absently, seemingly fascinated by something down the hallway.

  Puzzled as he continued to stare, obviously preoccupied, she turned to look but didn’t see anything unusual. “You don’t really want to stay in bed all day, do you?”

  “Why, too boring?”

  “Well…”

  “We certainly can’t have you bored.” His hands rose to the buttons of her shirt, well, technically it was his shirt, but it was all the same because in a minute, he had it open and was pushing it off her shoulders.

  “Clint!” she protested, grasping at the vanishing linen as he pulled it away. “I can’t be naked in the hall.”

  “Says who? No one is here but us.”

  “But—” The words froze on her tongue as his hands slid around her bare hips and around to cup her bare bottom. As he pulled her against him, he buried his face in her neck as he squeezed her full cheeks.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Meeting expectations.”

  Her brows gathered. What did that mean? His touch had already muddled her brain. “I don’t understand.” Her voice trailed off as his hips aligned with hers and his lips found the hard peak of a breast.

  “I promised to be creative,” he said against her skin, “and keep the level of excitement and adventure up when we got home, remember?”