by Janet Dailey
He opened the car door and turned to face her. “It’s even more important now that Mrs. Mitchell and the children have a safe place to stay.”
Laura had forgotten all about the Mitchell woman. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that Sebastian hadn’t.
“Let’s go inside,” Boone urged. “Your grandfather wants to see you.”
Once more she started up the steps, accompanied by the sound of the rental car reversing away from The Homestead. Already Laura was conscious of the vacuum that was created by Sebastian’s departure.
Trey met her in the entryway when she walked in. There was no touching, no hugging. Such expressions of sorrow weren’t necessary between them.
“Are you all right?” Trey studied her with a twin’s sensitivity.
“I’m fine. What about Quint?” Laura asked, voicing the concern that was foremost in her mind. “Has he been told yet?”
Trey nodded. “Mom called him shortly after she talked to you. She chartered a private jet to fly him back. He should land some time early afternoon.”
A slight smile lifted the edges of her mouth, but it had nothing to do with Quint’s imminent arrival. “That’s how she knew.”
A frown flickered across Trey’s forehead. “Who are you talking about.”
“I always call her Mother,” Laura explained. “But when I phoned about Logan, I said, ‘Mom, this is Laura.’ And she knew right away that something was wrong. I didn’t understand how she knew . . . until now. I haven’t called her Mom in years.”
“She doesn’t miss much,” Trey said.
“Where’s Gramps?”
“In the den with Laredo. He decided to wait until Quint gets here before he goes over to Aunt Cat’s.”
Without so much as a glance at Boone, Laura accompanied her brother to the den. It wasn’t a deliberate snub. She simply forgot he was there.
It was shortly after two o’clock when the chartered jet carrying Quint landed at the Triple C’s private airfield. Trey and Laura waited on the concrete apron while the aircraft completed its shutdown procedures. The hot wind gusted, blowing dust across the hangar area and whipping Laura’s long blond hair. She held it out of her eyes as the cabin’s hatch door swung open and one of the pilots lowered the steps. Then Quint took his place in the opening.
As one, she and Trey moved to the bottom of the steps to meet him. Encumbered by the walking cast on his leg, Quint made a slow descent from the plane. Seeing him, Laura was haunted by the strong resemblance to his father, both sharing the same blue-black hair, sharp cheekbones, and smoke gray eyes. Only this time, Quint’s eyes were shadowed with the deep pain of grief.
Tightly jawed, Trey was the first to speak. “Dammit, Quint, I wish . . .” But the right words wouldn’t come.
Quint eliminated the need for them. “You don’t have to say it. I know how you both feel. It isn’t something you can put into words.”
A small smile curved Laura’s mouth. “You always manage to make things easier for others, Quint,” she said and kissed his cheek.
No further reference was made to Logan’s death until they were on their way to The Homestead. Then Quint turned to Laura. “Aunt Jessy said you were there.”
She had known all along that he would want to know the details. Aware that his interest was both personal and professional, Laura told him about the shooting and its aftermath as well as the circumstances surrounding it.
When she finished, Quint didn’t say anything for several long seconds. Finally, as he stared out the window at the grassy plains, he said, “I can’t remember a time when my dad wasn’t aware of everything going on around him, whether off-duty or on. I’d be willing to bet he saw the truck parked outside and knew this Mitchell guy was in there. But he wasn’t expecting trouble when he walked up to that door—at least not the shooting kind. He was in uniform, though. That’s probably all Mitchell saw.”
A silence followed, weighted by a mix of undirected anger, regrets, and grief. It lasted the rest of the way to The Homestead.
Boone was in the entry hall when they walked in. “We haven’t met before,” he said to Quint, extending a hand in greeting. “I’m Boone Rutledge, Laura’s fiancé.”
“I’ve heard about you,” Quint replied, but in a tone that had Laura studying the impassive set of his features as he briefly gripped Boone’s hand. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
“So am I,” Boone stated, as Quint leaned on his cane for balance.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to see my grandfather.” He pushed off the cane, taking that first step around Boone before he moved aside.
Boone fell in beside Laura, accompanying her as she followed Quint to the den, the walking cast giving him an uneven, hobbling gait. When they arrived, Chase had already moved around to the front of the big desk. Quint walked up to him. The moment he was within reach, Chase pulled him close.
Laura watched the emotional meeting, only vaguely conscious of Boone’s arm possessively along her shoulders. For a long minute the two men embraced, heads bowed into each other, each hugging the other tightly. Laura had always been aware of the special bond that existed between the two, but it had never been more evident than now.
When they separated, Quint’s cheeks were wet with tears, but Laura found nothing unmanly about the sight of them.
“It should have been me, son.” The husky tremor in her grandfather’s voice had Laura blinking back tears of her own.
Quint shook his head. “You’re wrong if you think it wouldn’t hurt as much to lose you.”
The front door opened, but Laura paid little attention to it. People had been stopping by for most of the day, ranch hands and neighbors alike. Then something triggered an awareness within her. Perhaps it was something familiar in the tread of those footsteps that pulled her glance to the doorway, but she knew it would be Sebastian even before he walked in.
His eyes cut a path straight to her, and something quickened within her at the contact. Almost with irritation, she felt Boone’s fingers tighten their grip on her upper arm.
Her grandfather was the first to openly recognize Sebastian. “There you are, Sebastian. I don’t believe you’ve met my eldest grandson, Quint Echohawk.”
With that smooth grace of his, Sebastian stepped forward. “I regret I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“This is Sebastian Dunshill from England, Quint,” he said, finishing the introduction.
Quint smiled as they shook hands. “Trey’s talked about you.”
Sebastian responded with a droll slant to his mouth. “Yes, your cousin has been most intelligent in his efforts to teach me the cowboy way—without much success, I’m afraid.”
“Mrs. Mitchell and the children,” Laura began, unable to suppress her curiosity any longer.
“They are tucked away in a safe place,” Sebastian assured her. “And I stopped in town to inform the police where they could be found when it becomes necessary.”
“I take it Mitchell hasn’t been caught yet,” Quint guessed, his features hardening a little.
“Not to my knowledge,” Sebastian answered. “Roadblocks have been established on all the major arteries around Blue Moon, and helicopters are making a sweep of the side roads. I expect it’s only a matter of time before he will be apprehended.”
“With any luck, he’s drunk all the beer he took,” Trey said. “and they’ll find him passed out on some back road.”
“There’s no point standing around here speculating about it,” Chase stated. “It’s time we headed for the Circle Six. I don’t have to tell you, Quint, how anxious your mother is to have you home. She’s going to need to lean on you a lot these next few days.”
Quint nodded. “I know.”
They started for the door together, one young and one old, but each requiring the balancing support of a cane.
“Are you going over to your aunt’s?” Boone asked.
“For a while,” Laura replied.
“The
n I’ll come with you.”
“If you want.” She was cool to him, but it was the way she felt.
He remained smotheringly close to her as they passed Sebastian and followed the others into the hall. Laura was tempted to say something, but this was neither the time nor the place to make a scene.
In the entryway she stopped to collect her purse from the side table. “I’ll drive the Suburban, Trey. That cast on Quint’s leg will make it too crowded for all of us to ride together.”
Trey never had a chance to answer her as the front door burst open and Mitchell lurched into the house, all wild-eyed and holding a gun. Half-drunk, he reeled to a stop when he saw them. The barrel of the gun made an arcing sweep of all of them.
“Where are they?” he demanded, then spotted Boone and advanced toward him. “You took ’em, didn’t you? I’ll give you two seconds t’tell me what you did with m’wife an’ kids!”
“You’re crazy.” Boone’s gaze jumped from the gun to Mitchell’s angry face and back again.
“What d’ya expect when someone steals a man’s wife an’ kids from him?” the man raged. “Damn right it’ll make ya’ crazy—crazy enough to use this”—he brandished the gun—“if you don’t tell me where they are.”
In that moment Laura knew he meant it. Fear struck deep in the pit of her stomach, shooting adrenaline through her system.
“You are addressing the wrong gentleman, Mr. Mitchell.” Sebastian’s voice rang clear and strong far to the right. Laura swung her gaze to him, stunned to find him there. “I am the one who took your wife and children to a place of safekeeping.”
Mitchell whirled in his direction, and, to Laura’s horror, Sebastian stepped forward, separating himself from the others. “You did?” Mitchell looked at him none too certainly. “Then where are they?”
“See here, young man.” Chase hobbled forward, his cane lifting.
“Gramps, no,” Laura protested, terrified that he intended to foolishly shake it at Mitchell like a man scolding a naughty child.
Instead he swept it upward with lightning swiftness, striking the underside of Mitchell’s gun hand and evoking a yowl of pain. At almost the same instant Laredo launched himself at Mitchell, tackling him from the side and driving him to the floor.
With amazing calm, Sebastian planted a foot on Mitchell’s wrist and twisted the gun from his grasp. By then, Trey and Boone had joined forces with Laredo to pin Mitchell to the floor.
In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the threat was over. Relief skittered through Laura as she turned an amazed look on her elderly grandfather. He was once more leaning on his cane and smiling at Quint.
“You have to use whatever weapon you have, son.”
Quint responded with an amused shake of his head and glanced at Laura. “You’d better call the police.”
Less than twenty minutes later a state patrol helicopter landed in the Triple C ranch yard. Its arrival was soon followed by a squad of police cars. In short order Mitchell was handcuffed and escorted off the premises, and the usual round of questioning and statements followed.
Trey and Laredo accompanied the last of the officers onto the veranda while everyone else remained in the den. Boone sat beside Laura on the leather sofa, his arm draped along the back of it behind her head. Quint and Chase occupied the two wingbacked chairs in front of the desk. Tall and lean, Sebastian stood at the window, observing the departure of the last officials and looking as unflappable as he had been through it all.
He turned from the window, his glance briefly making contact with her. Laura was conscious of the instant rise of her heartbeat. She realized it was a normal reaction to him, one that had existed from the outset.
“I think we can safely conclude this business is over,” Sebastian declared to no one in particular.
Uncrossing her legs, Laura rose from the sofa and carried her empty coffee cup to the service tray on the desk.
“You do realize that you took a terrible risk speaking up like that.” She eyed him with more than a little interest.
“But a calculated one,” Sebastian replied with customary insouciance. “After all, if I was the one who knew the location of his wife and children, it was unlikely he would shoot me.”
“As drunk as he was, he could have pulled the trigger without even knowing it,” Laura countered.
“As I said, it was a calculated risk.” His eyes had a warmly amused gleam to them.
Boone pushed off the leather couch, his jaws rigid with anger. “Was it part of your calculation to put this entire family in jeopardy?” he demanded. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t stuck your nose into something that wasn’t any of your business. You’ve caused this family enough trouble, Dunshill. It’s time you packed your bags and went back to England. And I mean right now.”
In that instant, any lingering doubts vanished as Laura turned a cool look on Boone, her chin lifting. “You are only half right, Boone.”
“What do you mean, half right?” he said with a frown.
“You are the one who needs to pack your bags and leave this house. Immediately.” There wasn’t an ounce of heat in her voice, only an icy determination.
“What are you talking about, Laura?” His expression was all shock and confusion. “We’re going to be married.”
“We were. But not any more.” She twisted the engagement ring off her finger. “Here. You can take this with you.” Laura flipped it to him with a touch of disdain.
The stunned look on his face as he caught the ring was almost laughable. “You’re upset, Laura,” he protested in a dazed fashion. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I always know exactly what I’m doing, Boone,” Laura corrected, while Sebastian looked on, struggling to hold back a smile. “You have about as much style as one of your Texas barbeques. And I certainly don’t want anyone as cunning and ruthless as Max Rutledge for a father-in-law. I don’t care how much money he has; marriage to you would still be a step down. Now, leave.”
Chase spoke up, “I hope he doesn’t go. I would enjoy having him thrown out.”
Boone glared at them, for a moment angry beyond words. “You’ll regret this,” he pushed the words through clenched teeth and stalked out of the den, roughly shouldering Laredo aside when he met him and Trey in the doorway.
“What’s got into him?” Laredo hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Boone had taken.
“Laura just told him to get lost,” Quint replied with a quietly approving smile.
“It’s about time,” Laredo muttered.
The grin Trey gave her was big and wide. “I guess that means we won’t be hearing wedding bells around here any time soon.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Laura replied with a trace of smugness.
As she had known he would, Sebastian abandoned his post by the window and crossed to her side, snaring her waist with his hand. “I believe that last remark requires some clarification,” he stated, addressing the others. “If you will excuse us, Laura and I will go somewhere and discuss this in private.”
“By all means, do,” Chase urged.
Nothing had ever felt so right as the light pressure of Sebastian’s arm around her as he ushered her out of the den and into the living room. But it was nothing compared to the swelling of pure joy within when he turned her into his arms and Laura met his ardent gaze and the suggestion of a twinkle it possessed.
“Have we finally gotten past the money issue?” The husky pitch of his voice was like a caress.
“I wouldn’t say we’ve gotten past it exactly,” Laura demurred with a touch of coyness.
An eyebrow arched in silent challenge. “Then what would you say?”
She slid her hands up to his shoulders and loosely clasped her fingers behind his neck. “That I’ve decided to marry you in spite of it”—Laura paused, a tiny smile showing—“After you sign a prenuptial agreement, of course.”
A smile grooved the corners of his
mouth. “Of course.”
Laura touched a finger to the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I do hope you don’t pass any of these freckles on to our daughters. It would be nice if our sons had them, though.”
“Regrettably, that’s something over which I have no control, Lady Crawford,” Sebastian countered lightly, even as desire darkened his eyes.
“I do like the sound of that,” Laura confessed.
“And I look forward to calling you that for the rest of our lives.”
“I do love you, Lord Crawford.” She made the fervent declaration as she pulled his head down to kiss him and share all the fullness of her love.
Epilogue
Snowflakes fell thick and fast from the cloud blanket that covered the Triple C. Now and then a blustery north wind sent them swirling against The Homestead’s windows, creating shifting patterns of gray and white. Try as they might, the cold and the snow couldn’t penetrate the towering white house that stood so proud and tall on the knoll overlooking the ranch headquarters.
Lights gleamed from its windows in defiance of the premature darkness the November storm had brought to the afternoon. In the den, flames crackled and leaped over the stack of split logs in the fireplace, the heat from it bringing an extra warmth to the room.
Chase dozed in a wingbacked chair next to the fire, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. A heavy sweater hung loosely from his stooped shoulders, the added layer of clothing an attempt to warm his old bones. Dimly he felt the brush of something across his legs and stirred. His drowsy eyes were slow to identify the petitely built woman standing by his chair. For a moment her features swam in and out of focus, but the striking green of her eyes and the shining darkness of her hair, only faintly threaded with gray, registered immediately. Joy swelled within him and a tightness gripped his throat at the sight of his beloved Maggie.
As he reached out to her, she spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, Dad.”
Dad. His hand fell back onto the armrest, the illusion shattered. Chase worked to conceal the bitter disappointment he felt at the discovery it was his daughter Cat standing before him and not his late wife.