by R. C. Ryan
Quinn knew that this was his last chance. Calculating the distance, he leaped at Abbott and managed to take him down.
“Run, Cheyenne. Get out. And don’t look back.”
The two men rolled across the floor, grunting, exchanging blows, breathing hard each time a fist made contact with flesh. Each man fought like a demon, neither willing to give an inch.
Even while he was pummeling his weakened opponent, Abbott struggled to free the gun from his waist. As he slid it loose, Quinn’s fist connected with his nose, sending up a fountain of blood.
With a scream of pain Abbott pressed the pistol against Quinn’s chest. “Now you’re going to—”
Quinn brought his head up under Abbott’s chin with such force, he could hear bone scrape against bone at the same instant that the sound of the gunshot reverberated through the room. With a cry of pain at his broken jaw Abbott dropped the pistol. But the bullet had already shot into Quinn’s body with enough force to send him slamming against the wall before slumping to the floor.
Clutching his broken jaw, Abbott began frantically searching for his fallen weapon. Just as his fingers closed around the cold steel, he felt a boot clamp down hard, crushing his hand. He looked up to see Cheyenne standing over him.
“Don’t try it,” he hissed.
“Try to stop me.” In one quick motion she bent and snatched up the handgun before straightening and taking aim.
Abbott rolled aside and knelt over Quinn’s motionless body, the knife in his hands pointed directly at Quinn’s chest.
“Well now. It’s your turn to gamble.” His smile was back and, with it, his too-cheerful confidence. “I’m betting that before you have time to pull that trigger, I can plunge this knife so far into his heart, he won’t have a prayer of a chance of surviving.”
Cheyenne hesitated.
That was all Abbott needed. He gave a high-pitched laugh. “Just as I thought. Coward. You’re all a bunch of—”
A single shot rang out and Abbott went rigid, staring at Cheyenne with a look of shock mingled with pure hatred as she prepared to fire again.
“You… can’t…” The knife slid from his nerveless fingers. His mouth worked, trying to speak, but no words came out.
His eyes went suddenly blank and he slumped forward.
Cheyenne tossed aside the pistol and pulled Abbott’s deadweight off Quinn.
“Oh, Quinn.” Seeing so much blood, she began feeling for a pulse. “Oh, sweet heaven. Please stay strong. Please don’t die.”
“Get… out,” he managed to mutter. “Fire—”
“No!” She began dragging him through the open doorway. “I’m not leaving without you.”
His body, pure muscle, was massively heavy, and she had to use every ounce of her being to drag him to safety.
Just as they reached the porch there was a deafening explosion as the flame hit the gasoline and erupted in a fireball that tore off a piece of the cabin’s roof.
Cheyenne and Quinn were thrown down the steps by the force of the blast and landed in the grass.
“Oh, Quinn.” Cheyenne’s tears were now sobs as she felt for a pulse. “Please stay with me. Please.”
“Don’t… cry.”
Hearing his voice, she wrapped her arms around him and rocked him like a baby. “Oh, God. There’s so much blood. You’ve been shot. Stay with me, Quinn. Please, please don’t die.” She couldn’t stop the tears that flowed like rivers.
Quinn tried to lift a hand to her face, but the effort was too great and his arm fell heavily to his side.
Suddenly the scene around them erupted into chaos.
The Conway men raced forward to gather around Cheyenne and Quinn, followed by Chief Everett Fletcher and a team of state police officers.
For the space of several seconds they simply stared at Cheyenne, sitting on the ground, cradling Quinn’s body in her arms, her tears mingling with his blood to form a mottled puddle in the grass around them.
“Is he alive?” Cole demanded, dropping to his knees beside Cheyenne.
“He is. But barely. He’s been shot.”
Cole felt his son’s feeble, thready pulse and took a deep breath, knowing nothing else mattered as long as Quinn’s heart continued to beat.
Big Jim, needing to do something, anything, began shouting orders. “We need an ambulance. Our boy needs a medic.”
Cole’s next thought was the madman. “Josh. Jake. We need to make certain that scum doesn’t get away.”
“Don’t worry, Cole.” Chief Fletcher put a hand on his arm and pointed to the line of uniformed officers swarming about the burning cabin.
Minutes later they emerged carrying Abbott’s lifeless body while others raced around bagging evidence before it could be swallowed by the raging fire.
A team of medical personnel began strapping Quinn to a gurney and administering an intravenous to ease his pain.
Through it all, Cheyenne refused to let go of Quinn’s hand.
“Sorry, ma’am,” a burly medic said. “We need to load him into a copter for a flight back to town.”
“I’m going with him.”
One of the officers started to refuse until Quinn said, “She… goes… or I stay.”
The officer gave a nod of his head and the medic smiled. “This way, ma’am.”
Minutes later, as the police helicopter lifted off, scattering a mix of dirt and snow, Cheyenne huddled beside Quinn, her head resting against his chest, her heart taking comfort in the steady beat of his.
It was, she thought, the very best sound in the world.
The world? It no longer mattered. For now, for as long as she could be with him, all that mattered was this man. He was, she thought contentedly, her world, her universe, her everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dr. April Walton walked through the doorway connecting her office with her walk-in clinic to discover a mob scene.
Quinn lay in the examining room, surrounded by family. Because he had steadfastly refused to be airlifted to a hospital in Casper, insisting that he would go no farther than Paintbrush, the Conway family had completely taken over the little building.
“Drink,” Ela said, lifting a spoon to his lips.
The old woman, her gray hair perfectly braided, her native dress covered with a white apron, held a bowl of homemade soup that perfumed the room with its steam. “It will heal you.”
To keep her from fussing, Quinn accepted several spoonfuls from her before lifting a hand to refuse any more.
“Enough.”
“But I made a pot of it.”
Quinn pointed to Micah, seated in a wheelchair in a corner of the room. “Feed the rest to him.”
Quinn expected her to give him an argument. Instead, the old woman waddled across the room and planted herself beside Micah.
Big Jim settled into a chair by the bed and propped his feet on the edge of the mattress. “This reminds me of the time Clementine had to haul me into town after a bear attacked me up in the hills.” He looked over at his grandsons. “Have I ever told you this story?”
Josh and Jake exchanged knowing smiles.
Jake muttered, “Probably a hundred times or more. But what’s one more time among family?”
“It was the spring of ’46, and this old bear must have just come out of his den after a long winter of hibernation. Probably hungry, and mad as a hornet,” he added, chuckling. “I turned around and there he was. I dropped my rifle and started up the nearest tree, but he was quicker, and he grabbed me by my leg and hauled me back down. Luckily, as he started dragging me on the ground, my rifle was close enough to snag, but by the time I got off a shot he’d put his teeth through my thigh, and I knew I’d bleed to death if I didn’t get help fast. I tied a tourniquet and rode my horse down the hill. Clementine tossed my hide in the truck and drove through a spring thunderstorm into town, where old Doc Walton, Dr. April’s daddy, sewed me up good as new.”
Dr. April took one look at Big Jim’s feet on
the bed and gave him her best hairy eyeball until he dutifully slid them to the floor and straightened the bed linens.
Cole walked in with a tray of burgers and shakes from Flora’s Diner. As he began passing them around, Phoebe Hogan shook a finger in his face.
“Don’t you even think about eating all that grease and sugar, Cole Conway.”
He was about to argue until he saw the glint of anger in her eyes. Adopting a contrite tone, he said, “Hell, I was just trying to stave off starvation. Why, my poor old father—”
“Can still outwork, outrun, and outtalk everyone in this family, and you know it. It was just an excuse for you to sneak over to Flora’s and have a piece of her coconut cream pie.”
He gave her a pained expression. “How can you even accuse me of such a thing?”
“How?” She touched a finger to the corner of his mouth before holding it up. “Here’s the evidence. Whipped cream. Oh, Cole, how could you?”
He looked truly contrite. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Phoebe. It’s just—”
“While you two argue, would you mind passing over those burgers and shakes?” Jake took the tray from his father’s hands and began handing the food and drinks around.
Quinn looked at Cheyenne, who sat silently beside him, holding his hand in hers.
“Feeling a little smothered yet by my crazy family?”
She managed a laugh. Oh, it was so good to be able to laugh, after all they’d been through. “Not at all. I just love watching all of them, and listening to all their crazy stories. They’re really special, you know.”
“Yeah.” He motioned her to come closer.
She inched her chair closer and leaned over him. “What is it? Are you having some pain?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “With all the painkillers Dr. April gave me, I probably won’t come down until next week. Believe me, I’m high as a kite. I just want you close.”
“What can I do to make you feel better?”
“You’ve already done it. You saved my life.”
“And you saved mine.”
“I guess that makes us even.”
She shook her head. “Hardly. When I think about all the trouble you and your family suffered because of me. I never dreamed that Austin… I mean Abbott… was a cold-blooded killer.”
“Chief Fletcher called him a textbook sociopath. Perfectly charming, until anyone got in his way. Then he could kill without a second thought.”
She shivered. “All the same, your beautiful family shouldn’t have had to deal with it.”
“Look at them. They’re none the worse for it.” Quinn couldn’t stop grinning. “They’re treating this more like a family reunion than some kind of medical emergency.”
“Like I said, you have a very special family.”
“They think you’re special, too. And I happen to agree with them. So, how about joining us?”
“Joining?”
He paused. This wasn’t at all how he’d planned on asking her. The painkillers must have loosened his tongue, as well as his brain. But now that he’d blurted it out, there was no going back. He decided to soldier on. Especially since it was such a great idea. “I guess what I’m saying is, how would you like to become a Conway?”
It took her a moment to get his meaning. She cocked her head to one side, regarding him. “Are you… proposing?”
“Yeah. Are you accepting?”
She let go of his hand and stared hard at the floor. “This wasn’t at all what I was expecting in this madhouse. It wasn’t a very romantic proposal.”
Quinn experienced a slice of razor-sharp fear. “I know the timing’s all wrong. And it wasn’t at all romantic, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.” He paused a beat, his smile fading. “Maybe I should have waited. I know my timing isn’t always—”
She put a hand over his mouth. Just a touch, but they both felt the rush of heat.
She had to nearly shout to be heard above the din. “Actually, I was just thinking how much I’d like to join your crazy family. But I was figuring I’d have to ask your father to adopt me.”
Quinn shook his head. “Not a good idea. That would make you my sister. And that would really mess with my plan.”
“Just what is your plan?”
“The first part is having you accept my unromantic proposal.”
She pretended to consider for long, silent moments. Finally, unable to keep from laughing, she said softly, “Even though it will probably get the award for the most unromantic proposal of all time, I accept. Call me crazy, but I want to be a part of your life, Quinn.”
He gave a long, deep sigh. “Thank heaven.” With his good arm he gathered her against his chest and kissed her until they were both sighing.
When the kiss ended, they became aware of an ominous silence. When Cheyenne lifted her head, the entire family had gathered around the bed.
As if on cue they broke into cheers.
Big Jim and Cole were laughing and slapping each other on the back. Josh and Jake came around the bed to hug Cheyenne while old Micah began wiping away tears.
Ela bent over the bed to kiss Quinn while Phoebe hurried around to embrace Cheyenne.
“All right.” After this went on for several more minutes, Dr. April used her most authoritative tone of voice. “You will all clear this sickroom at once. I need to change my patient’s dressings.”
After more hugs and handshakes, the entire Conway clan began moving toward the hallway.
Cheyenne bent to brush another kiss on Quinn’s lips before starting away.
The old doctor put a hand on her arm. “Not you, Cheyenne. You can stay.”
“But—”
The old woman winked. “I’ve had a lifetime of dealing with the Conways. Sometimes, until you get used to them, they can be a bit overwhelming. I just figured you and Quinn deserved some quiet time. As for me…” She crossed to the door. “I’ve got appointments in my office. Folks in town will want to know the latest Conway gossip. And I have an inside track on it.” She winked. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. I’m sure you’ll find something to do with the time alone.”
With a mischievous grin she walked out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Quinn caught Cheyenne’s hand in his and drew her close. “Now, let’s see. Where were we?”
She lay down beside him in the bed, curling against him. “I believe we were about to plan a life together.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her, lingering over her lips, and felt a deep welling of contentment settle over him. When he could finally find his voice, he said against her lips, “I’m not sure one lifetime will be enough.”
She laughed, low in her throat, before wrapping her arms around him. “Then we’d better start putting whatever time we have left to good use.” She paused a moment before asking, “Just how much pain are you in at the moment?”
He gave a deep rumble of laughter. “What pain?” He reached for her. “Come here, woman. Let’s get a head start on our future together.”
EPILOGUE
Come on, Cheyenne honey. Time’s a wasting. If we don’t get going, the preacher will be there ahead of us.” Micah leaned on his three-pronged cane and stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at his watch.
In honor of the occasion, the old man had gone to town and bought himself a new suit and string tie, while insisting that he couldn’t possibly replace his comfortable weathered boots that had seen him through years of ranch chores. Instead, he’d polished them until he could see his face in them.
When Cheyenne started down the stairs toward him, he had to swallow the lump that threatened to choke him.
She’d insisted on keeping things simple. No lacy bridal gown for her. Instead she’d chosen a fluid column of supple bleached cowhide that kissed her slender body and swirled about her ankles. The hem was scalloped and bore intricate Arapaho symbols.
“Is that your mama’s wedding dress?”
Cheyenne nodded.
“She once told me she’d made it herself.”
She wore her thick, dark hair long and loose, the way Quinn liked it, pulled to one side with a diamond and pearl clip, leaving it to spill down her breast in a riot of curls. The effect was stunning.
“What do you think?” At the foot of the stairs she paused to twirl. When she turned back, she saw the tears in Micah’s eyes. “That bad, huh?”
“Oh, Cheyenne honey, you’re absolutely perfect.” He caught her hand and led her toward the kitchen table, where a small white box lay. He picked it up and handed it to her. “I didn’t want to give you this in front of everybody. It’s… personal.”
She opened the box to find a sparkly bracelet of woven bands of delicate silver and gold filigree.
“This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have of hers, and”—he smiled through his tears—“since you’re the daughter I never had, I’ve been saving it for you.”
“Oh, Micah.” She held out her arm and he fastened it about her wrist.
She turned it this way and that, allowing the delicate bands of precious metal to catch and reflect the light. “I love it. I’ll treasure it always. Thank you.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I couldn’t believe it when you said you wanted me to give you away. I figured you’d give that honor to Cole or Big Jim.”
“They’re my new family, Micah. You’re my always family.”
The old man turned away to keep from embarrassing himself. “Come on. Time to get going.”
She followed him outside, to find Wes Mason and the wranglers seated on horseback in a semicircle around the truck. When they spotted her they tipped their wide-brimmed hats and began applauding.
Seated among them was Deke Vance.
She had arranged to meet with him to let him know all that she had learned about the man who had assumed the identity of a dead man named Austin Baylor. After her apology, which Deke had graciously accepted, he’d expressed relief that the truth had finally been uncovered and regret at the price her family had been forced to pay for their trust of a stranger. And then he’d surprised her by saying that he was still in need of a job and, since she would need a few extra hands while she settled into married life, he was more than willing to help out.