Promises Reveal

by Sarah McCarty

  Her gaze snapped up. “You feel guilty.”

  He shrugged, weariness, old and new, dragging at his bones. “It’s hard not to.”

  “You’re a minister, not a miracle worker.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  Easing the hammer down, she tilted her head to the side and studied him with those discerning artist’s eyes.

  “She’s why you feel so strongly about helping Erica, isn’t she?”

  “Partly. And there’s also the fact that the law is just wrong in the choice it leaves.”

  “Yes, it is.” She held up the gun. “Show me how to load this.”

  Sixteen

  THE KNOCK CAME again. Harder, breaking into her concentration.

  “Go away.”

  There was no chance whoever was pounding on the door heard her muttered order, any more than she was going to be able to utilize the last few minutes of good light this stingy house allowed her with which to paint. The reflection of the sunrise on the church’s window was going to have to wait. Downstairs, the front door latch clicked.

  “Evie?”

  Asa. She dropped the paintbrush into the tin of turpentine and wiped her hand on a rag. She practically flew down the stairs, stopping halfway when she saw him standing inside the door. Her skirts swung about her legs as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Asa looked up from where he was hanging his hat on the hat rack. “Not a darn thing. I’m heading home to catch a few minutes with the family, and was wondering if maybe Brad was up and feeling like company.”

  If he wasn’t, he would be. The man needed a distraction from the fact he was stuck in bed. “Of course!”

  Asa raked through his hair, smiling and looking up at her from under his forearm. “That’s a lot of enthusiasm. Brad that bad of a patient?”

  “The absolute worst I’ve ever taken care of.”

  “How many would that be?” he asked, following her up the stairs.

  “He is my first, and definitely my last.”

  “Let me guess—he won’t stay in bed.”

  She turned at the top of the stairs and looked at him. “To the point I’ve now started making threats.”

  Asa laughed, coming up alongside. “I bet that was effective.”

  She knocked on the bedroom door before walking in. “Actually, it’s been quite effective.”

  Brad sat propped up against the headboard, papers spread on the sheet in front of him. Beside him on the table was the breakfast she’d cooked. Untouched. The frown on his face said that not only had he been listening, he wasn’t amused.

  He put the papers carefully on the bed beside him, the control in the act belied by the darkness of his glare. “You’d do well to remember I’m not going to be in this bed forever, Evie.”

  “Lord, I hope not.” She’d probably bash him on the head with a bedpan if he were. She motioned Asa in. “See if you can lighten his mood, would you?”

  Asa smiled, stepping aside so she could pass through the door. “I’ll do my best.”

  BRAD WAITED UNTIL Evie’s footsteps faded before asking, “You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette on you, would you?”

  He could use both a cigarette and a stiff drink. Brad wasn’t used to being weak, didn’t tolerate it well, especially when his wife was in danger. Relying on others to protect her went against the grain and made him distinctly uneasy.

  Asa laughed and grabbed the chair, dragged it closer to the bed before dropping into it. “Evie riding you that hard?”

  Brad sighed. “That would be a no?”

  Asa nodded. “That would be a no.” He jerked his thumb at the plate on the bed stand beside him. “What in hell is that?”

  Brad sighed again, his stomach clenching on nothingness. “My breakfast.”

  With a poke to the side of the dish, Asa asked, “What was it before you gave it last rites?”

  “I think scrambled eggs.”

  “Damn!” Sitting back in the chair, he shook his head. “Maybe she really was aiming to poison the Simmons kid.”

  “Nah. She’s just that bad at cooking.”

  “How can a woman that creative with a paintbrush be that cursed in the kitchen?”

  Brad wished the hell he knew. “No clue, but I’m thinking that hoping she’ll develop some skill is a lost cause.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Either find someone to take over the job, or learn to do it myself.”

  “Shadow Svensen playing wife? I know a lot of men who’d pay to see that.”

  Cutting a glance at the door, he hissed, “Watch what you say.”

  “You haven’t told her yet?”

  “There’s no yet about it. She’s not ever going to know.”

  “That’s a tough game, especially with Casey playing fast and lose with revelation.”

  “I’ll handle Casey.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Then I’ll handle the consequences.”

  “If Evie’s not prepared, it could cost you everything.”

  “No shit.” What had started as a game had turned into something serious, but while he might want to change the rules now, the game was set, the ending preordained. And when it was over, the one place Evie would not be standing was by his side. What he didn’t need was Asa reminding him of it. “Shouldn’t you be home doting on your daughter and spoiling your wife?”

  “Shouldn’t you be making a daughter of your own?”

  A little girl with Evie’s spirit? Big eyes? The thought filled him with dread, and a wrenching longing. “No.”

  “A shame.” Asa hooked his ankle over his knee. “I think you’d make a good father.”

  “Because my own father was such a stellar example?”

  “Because of who you are.”

  Damn, he’d love to believe that. “It’s not going to happen.”

  Asa sighed. “You are so stubborn on the way you see things.”

  “It’s my nature.”

  “Want me to change the subject?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want to talk about the current betting frenzy going on in town?”

  “Not if I’m the subject.”

  Asa leaned back in the chair, the corner of his lip lifting in a provoking half smile that raised the hairs on the back of Brad’s neck. “Then you pick a topic.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  Asa rested his head against the back of the overstuffed chair. “I didn’t have to do a darn thing.”

  With Asa, one always had to watch the phrasing. “If you didn’t have to do anything, then someone else did. What’s up?”

  “There might be a few bets going ’round.”

  “Bets on what?”

  “On how long it’s going to take you to piss off your wife to the point she starts showing that picture of you all over town.”

  He closed his eyes. Damn. When he opened them, Asa’s smile had grown. “They heard the argument this morning?”

  “Pretty much everyone in town heard her declare that if you didn’t settle into being a better patient, she would take that painting and hang it on the front porch.”

  “That will never happen.”

  “You might not have a say in it. There are a few souls with a vested interest in the relationship between you now. Quite a few who are damn curious about that painting.”

  Shit. “Who?”

  Asa cracked his lids. “Well, Doc has a bet placed. I believe Millie and Patrick both took a piece of it. Of course, once Cyrus got word of the hoopla, he placed a bet.”

  “Not that his wife knows.” Cyrus’s wife, Gertie, was notoriously tightfisted with money.

  “Nope. Though there are some side bets on how soon he’ll be riding into town for a pound of that candy to sweeten her temper once she finds out.”

  “I’m afraid you’re all in for a disappointment.” Because no way in hell would anybody see that picture.

  “Uh-huh. I guess we’ll have to wait for ti
me to tell that.” With the motion of his hand, he indicated Brad’s wound. “How are you feeling?”

  “I should be good enough to help y’all look for Casey in a few days.”

  Evie’s voice carried clearly through the door. “I heard that.”

  “Good,” he hollered back, “then that will save an argument when I ride out.”

  Asa shook his head. “You want some advice?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t challenge a woman like Evie that way. Unless”—the door opened a crack, and there was the slide of wood across wood—“you want to suffer the consequences,” Asa finished on a bark of laughter as the door closed, leaving the naked painting of Brad leaning against the wall.

  “Son of a bitch!” Brad lurched up. Pain knifed through his side. He grabbed it, bellowing, “Evie!”

  Asa kept laughing. Brad threw a pillow at him. “Stop looking at the damn thing.”

  “Kind of hard to look away.”

  “Find a reason to.”

  Sweet as pie, Evie called back, “You get out of bed, Brad Swanson, and it’s going on the front porch.”

  That just set Asa into fresh guffaws.

  “When I get out of this bed, Evie, you’re going to get your ass paddled.”

  Just imagining that had him hard with anticipation, forcing him to draw up his leg to hide the reaction.

  “I’ll worry about that when it happens.”

  Asa just laughed harder. “Good to see you’ve taught the little woman who’s boss.”

  “Like you taught Elizabeth?”

  “Hell, man, I never even tried. I like her wild. Keeps me on my toes.”

  Truth was, Brad liked Evie wild, too. He just hated that painting. “Do me a favor and bring that painting over here, would you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  There was only one reason he would refuse. “You placed a goddamn bet, too.”

  The man didn’t even have the grace to fake guilt. “I got caught up in the excitement.”

  “Like hell.” Asa never did anything without a plan. “You keep laughing, you irritating son of a bitch, and I’ll wipe your brain clean with a bullet.”

  Running his hand down his face in a token attempt to hide his laughter, Asa asked, “You mean the one in the revolver downstairs?”

  The anger inside coalesced into a tight ball. Laid up without even a revolver within reach did not put a smile on his mood. “Meant to talk to you about that.”

  “There was the risk of delirium. We didn’t want you shooting up the place.”

  He bared his teeth in a smile. “I’m not delirious now.”

  “Now you’re pissed, so I think we’ll just leave the thing where it is until you calm down.”

  Brad cracked his knuckles. “You’re running up quite a tab.”

  “Consider it payback.”

  “For what?”

  “For being so aggravating.”

  No one was more aggravating than Asa. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

  The door opened. Cougar stood in the doorway. “Which one of you is the kettle and which one is the pot?”

  Brad gritted his teeth. “Evie let you in?”

  “Even invited us for coffee.”

  “Us?”

  “If Cougar would stop hogging all the space, you’d see I’m here, too,” Clint called from behind.

  Asa got to his feet, still grinning ear to ear. “That wife of yours sure has a mean streak. If I were you, I’d stay on her good side. At least until you heal.”

  “You heading out, Asa?” Cougar asked.

  “Yep. I thought I’d catch some breakfast with Elizabeth and Tempest before hitting the sack.”

  It struck Brad then how much Asa was sacrificing to protect him and his family. How much they all were. He knew why Cougar and Clint were helping him out. Saving a man’s life put him in another’s debt, but Asa didn’t owe him anything that he could recall. “Hey, Asa.”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  The man turned back and actually looked surprised. “No problem.”

  Driven by that inner voice that said safety lay in keeping accounts even, Brad called, “I owe you.”

  Finally, Asa stopped grinning. “You can fucking try.”

  As he passed through the door, only Brad noticed the sleight of hand that had the as-yet-unnoticed painting traveling discreetly with him. The inner voice quieted under the press of guilt. Hard to fathom, but he got the impression he’d hurt the gunslinger’s feelings.

  Cougar’s “You sure can be thick” only increased his unease.

  Brad stared at where the painting had been. Asa had no reason to take the painting with him. No reason at all as it would have been a hell of a lot more fun to share the joke with Cougar and Clint.

  “Hell, you know friends don’t owe each other,” Clint growled.

  Yes, he did. He just hadn’t thought the rule applied to him, because he hadn’t realized there’d been a shift. That pretend had become reality.

  “You’ll owe him an apology,” Cougar tacked on, sitting in the chair. “Asa can be touchy that way.”

  “And if you don’t want him reminding you of it for the rest of your life at the most inconvenient, not to mention, the most embarrassing moments,” Clint drawled, “do it soon.”

  Brad blinked. They were right. He’d been living in the shadows so long, never depending on anyone, glossing over offers of friendship, just passing through life, that he hadn’t noticed the change when it had occurred. But it had, and whether he’d planned it or not, he had friends. And apparently a life. The revelation was a shock.

  What else do you have in store for me? He was afraid to find out.

  THE MAN RODE too darn fast. Evie pulled the buckboard up at the fork in the trail and searched the fields of grass for signs of Asa. Her plan had been to follow him home and make her request there, but she hadn’t allowed for the man’s penchant for speed. Her plump little mare couldn’t hope to keep up, especially pulling the buggy, which now meant she had no idea whether to ride left or right. She only had a vague idea of where the Rocking C was located. While it had seemed like such a good idea to follow Asa out into the countryside at the crack of dawn, now that she was sitting in the middle of the vast stretch of rolling grassland spreading toward the dramatic rise of the mountains, she could see there might be a few flaws in her plan. Like her ability to keep up. The potential for getting lost. Her relative vulnerability. She curved her hand around the hard outline of the pistol, taking comfort from its presence. “Any ideas, Betsy?”

  Betsy whickered. Her ears pricked up and she looked down the path to the right. The horse had a better sense of hearing, and they had been following Asa since he left town. “All right. To the right it is.”

  All it took to get Betsy in motion was releasing the reins. A half mile farther the path dipped down and then up. At the tip of the next rise she spotted a large sign with the words Rocking C emblazoned in the wood with a well-worn path cutting beneath.

  “Good job, Betsy.”

  Betsy snorted and picked up her pace. That could only mean one thing: a barn ahead. Betsy was notoriously lazy except when in pursuit of grain. At the top of the next rise, she whinnied a greeting. Evie couldn’t blame her. The Rocking C was quite a spread with two barns, four corals, and what looked like two bunkhouses. To her, it screamed success. To Betsy it had to scream comfort.

  Nestled at the foot of the mountains, the ranch bustled with activity, even at this early hour. In her heart of hearts, Evie had always wondered what could have driven Elizabeth to propose to the hard-eyed Asa two years ago. A ruthless gunslinger, whom she knew only by his reputation. A stranger to her. She now had her answer. The Rocking C wasn’t just a home. This was a dream, a future in the making. The kind of thing a woman fought for the same way Evie had fought for her freedom. Elizabeth’s path had been clearer to her goal, while Evie’s had taken an unexpected turn, but both goals were g
ood. Clucking her tongue, she sent the eager Betsy down the hill. She just hadn’t achieved hers yet.

  As soon as she got to the edge of the ranch buildings, Old Sam limped out of the barn and waved, his smile, beneath the low brim of his hat, putting more creases in his face than were in his faded blue-checked shirt.

  “Morning, Evie. Asa says you’re to go on up to the back door. Breakfast will be waiting.”

  She set the brake. “Asa told you . . . ?”

  Sam came up alongside and offered her his hand. “Said you’d be along in a bit.”

  Asa had known she was following. Taking Sam’s gnarled hand, she stepped down. “Thank you.”

  “You go on up now.” Sam moved up toward the mare’s head, patting her softly as he did. “I’ll take care of this sweet girl.”

  “Her name’s Betsy,” she called after him.

  Taking a breath, inhaling the scents of horses, hay, summer, and hope, she headed toward the house. Since the MacIntyres were expecting her, she opted for the kitchen door. At her knock, Asa called, “Come in.”

  Elizabeth smiled over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove as Evie entered. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

  From the wonderful aroma, they were having bacon and eggs. “Thank you.”

  Evie glared at Asa, who held Tempest in his lap. The little girl was alternately standing and sitting, chortling every time she stood, grunting every time she sat. Asa was laughing with her, obviously enthralled by his daughter’s enthusiasm for the simple game.

  “If you knew I was following you, why didn’t you stop?”

  Asa didn’t spare her a glance. “You seemed to be having so much fun with your sneaking, it didn’t seem worth spoiling your game.”

  “I almost got lost.”

  That did have him looking at her. “Almost doesn’t count for much.”

  “It scared me.”

  “Good.”

  “Asa,” Elizabeth sighed, taking Tempest from him. Tempest fussed but then shoved her fist in her mouth and started chomping. “You didn’t stop?”

  He shrugged, making a face at his daughter that had her staring. With her blonde hair wisping all over her head, she looked like a startled elf. “The woman’s so bound and determined to be foolish, I figured she needed the excitement.”