Three steps off the porch, something hit him hard on the back of the head. With the second blow, everything went black.
Chapter 6
Mack woke up on the floor of a carriage, or maybe it was a wagon. Whatever it was, the springs were poor, and the road was worse. He’d been rolled into a blanket, just as he’d done with the Jones boys, leaving him unable to move or cry out. Unlike the Jones boys, however, at least he was alive.
By the time the ride was over, his head ached and he was surely black and blue from head to toe. He heard the rumble of what had to be a train. His hands and feet were bound, and a foul-tasting gag kept him from calling out as someone hauled him up and then tossed him down again.
His thought as he lay there waiting for the next thing to happen was that his father’s men had finally found him. Or, perhaps, Colin had.
The last thing he expected when the blanket was peeled away was to see Sheriff Drummond standing over him. The sheriff’s boot lifted and moved toward him, and the world went black once more.
He’d lied. He said sweet words but didn’t mean any of them.
Those were the thoughts that kept taunting Gloree as she paced the front porch and kept watch for her husband. He’d told her he would stay and help her raise this child. Said he wanted to keep the vows they’d made.
“Well, you’ve got a strange way of showing it,” she muttered as she turned back toward the door and then walked past it to stare over in the direction of the barn.
He’d been doing a fine job of bringing the ranch back to what it once had been. The barn now stood straight and fine, and no longer could a person stand on one side and see all the way through to someone standing on the other.
“He’s just gone into town,” she decided after she’d searched every inch of the ranch on horseback twice. “Or maybe he’s gone off to help a neighbor.”
Yes, of course. She turned the horse toward the east and the nearest ranch, where she was told he hadn’t been seen there. The result was the same at the other places she tried—all of them neighbors who looked at her with pity when she begged for any help to find him.
Finally, she rode into Callyville to alert the sheriff that her husband was missing. She found him deep in conversation with an elderly man whose accent sounded familiar.
“You’re English, aren’t you?”
The fellow rose with care and waved away help from a younger fellow, who must have been his assistant. “Nicholas Crenwright, at your service, Miss…?”
“Mrs.,” she corrected. “Mrs. McCoy.”
At the name McCoy, the man’s silver brows rose. He cast a glance at the younger fellow and then returned his attention to the sheriff. “It appears this young lady has business with you. Perhaps I shall allow her to converse with you alone.” He nodded to the assistant. “Come, and let’s leave these two.”
Sheriff Drummond remained mute until the older man was gone. Then he nodded toward the chair the Englishman had recently vacated. “What can I do for you, Gloree?”
“Who was that man?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Private business,” he stated firmly. “Now tell me what brings you to Calleyville.”
“My husband,” she said as she collected her thoughts. “It appears he’s missing.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“Well, you see, that’s all I know. When I woke up this morning, he was gone. I’ve looked all over the ranch and spent the better part of the morning going to the neighbors to see if anyone has seen him, and they haven’t.”
“That’s most unfortunate.” The sheriff rested his palms on the desk. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, Gloree, but it sounds like your husband has run off. Now the good news, which I was going to have to find a way to tell you, is that Pitt’s man has finally arrived. He’s staying at the hotel until I can escort him to the ranch that’s properly his.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Mack and I were legally married. He paid to remove my property from foreclosure. You were there. You witnessed it.”
“And so I did,” he said. “But unfortunately, another document has turned up. A will that Pitt sent along with his payment to his cousin.” He shrugged. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Pitt was so sure his cousin was coming out here to marry you that he gave everything he owned, including the ranch, to him.”
“But that’s not possible,” she managed as she gasped for a breath. “Pitt wouldn’t do that. He just…” She shook her head. “He just wouldn’t.”
“But he did.” The sheriff rose and came around his desk to help Gloree to her feet. “You’re looking poorly, Miz Lowe. Why don’t I—”
“McCoy,” she corrected with all the force she could manage. “It’s McCoy. Gloree McCoy, and I’ll thank you to remember that.” She shrugged out of his grasp and stumbled toward the door.
“I’m truly sorry, Gloree,” Sheriff Drummond said. “But I’ve seen the will myself.”
She stopped just short of the door and turned to face him. “I don’t need a will to know that Pitt would never bypass me to give our property to someone else, and I certainly don’t need to hear it from you or some fellow who manages to show up two months late.”
“Suit yourself,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “But if I were you I’d take a trip over to the hotel and see for yourself. Meanwhile, I’ll get to work on that missing-person report. Where do you figure it is that a card shark like Mack McCoy would be going?”
Gloree let the door slam on the question as she stumbled out into the afternoon sunshine. To her surprise, the elderly Englishman was waiting on the sidewalk. His companion was nowhere to be seen, although she guessed he was probably nearby. Men of this man’s caliber rarely traveled alone. Or at least that was what she guessed.
“Might I have a word with you?” The Englishman nodded toward the hotel. “I’ve a private railcar at the station. We will not be disturbed there.”
She must have looked doubtful, for the man’s eyes softened. “You have my word as a gentleman that I merely wish to discuss family business in private.”
Private business. That’s what Sheriff Drummond said, too.
He leaned close, his right hand clutching a cane with a silver crest. “It is about Mack.”
Gloree needed no more convincing. “Where is he?” she demanded as soon as she stepped into the sumptuous surroundings of the railcar.
“That is what I had hoped you could tell me.” The elderly man took a seat on a massive velvet chair and motioned for her to sit in the one nearest to him.
“Who are you?” she said as she complied.
“Haven’t you figured it out?” He gestured around the room and then returned his attention to her.
The crest hung on the wall above his head declared him to be the Duke of Crenwright. When she repeated that to the older man, he grinned.
Something in that smile looked very familiar.
“Indeed, that is my title,” he said. “But that isn’t who I am.” He paused as a fit of coughing took over him. Gloree rose to offer him the handkerchief she always kept close.
The duke held the folded cloth in his hand and studied it closely. Tracing the double Ms with his forefinger, his eyes misted.
“She always did the best needlework.” He met Gloree’s gaze. “I miss that woman,” he said as he dissolved into tears.
Instinctively, Gloree placed her hand over his. When that simple touch did not console the elderly gentleman, she rose to wrap one arm around his shoulder. He leaned against her and cried. Then he dabbed at his eyes with the handkerchief and shook his head.
“I’m an old man. Forgive me for my emotion.” He reached to grasp her hand again. “You’re Mack’s wife, aren’t you?”
Gloree came around to stand in front of him. “I am,” she said. “He married me some two months ago. Almost three, actually.”
His eyes went to her belly where the evidence of her child was likely showing. “No,” she said. “The child is
not his. You see, I was widowed, newly so. When Mack heard I was about to lose the land where Pitt and my children are buried, he stepped in to help.”
He clutched her hand tighter. “Yes, he would do that.” He paused to dab the handkerchief against his eyes once more. “Tell me what you know about Mack.”
She smiled. “I know all I need to know about him, sir,” she said. “I know he’s a good man who sacrificed all he had to keep me from losing my home. I know he’s worked hard to make the ranch something to be proud of.” She paused. “And I know that even though we started out thinking we were making a temporary marriage, he didn’t run when he could have.”
“Yes,” he said. “He didn’t run.”
“Do you know where he is, sir?”
The duke looked away. “I know where he was. I’ve known for some time.” When he returned his attention to Gloree, he was smiling. “You see, I planned to bring him home. I even warned him of it. I told him I had men coming after him. What I didn’t tell him is that it was I who was coming. See, he and I, well, we haven’t gotten along well for some time.”
“Oh?”
“It’s all my fault,” he admitted. “I’m rather stubborn. I’m afraid it runs in the family.” He met her gaze. “He’s my son, you see.”
“Your son?” She shook her head. “How is that possible? You’re a duke and he’s a…”
“Gambler and a card shark?” The duke shrugged. “I’ve been accused of worse but generally from another member of the House of Lords.” His expression sobered. “He believes I paid him to stay away because I was ashamed of him. You see, his mother and I weren’t married. She was a maid, and well, it just wasn’t done.” He swiped his hand through the air. “Yes, I know how it sounds, but I was young and stupid. I married the woman I was told to marry. From that marriage came his brother Colin.”
“Mack has a brother?”
“A half brother,” he said, “and not a man I’m proud to call my son. I have recently become aware of what Colin has been up to, and I felt it was time to show myself to Mack. To let him know the truth about some things that he does not know.” He shook his head. “His mother is dead, you see. Has been for almost two years.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Does he know?”
He shook his head. “Nor does he know that before she died, we were married. She’s buried in the family plot. And Colin? While I would like to have had him arrested, suffice it to say he will not trouble your husband again.”
“My husband,” she said. “Where is he?”
The duke checked the clock on the mantel and smiled. “We’re due to meet him in Denver in an hour’s time. Would you consent to coming along?”
“Just try and keep me from it,” she said.
“I’ve just one matter to attend to before we’re off. Might I offer you some refreshment in my absence?”
“Of course,” she said as his assistant entered the room to assist the duke’s exit. A short while later, both men returned and the train soon left the station.
During the trip to Denver, the duke entertained Gloree with stories of Mack’s childhood. The older man seemed to delight in telling the tales of the young man’s misadventures. “Oh, but he was stubborn,” he told her.
“He still is,” she said with a laugh as the train began to slow, indicating they were approaching Denver.
“You wait here,” he said when the train stopped moving. “They’ll bring him to us.”
A few minutes later, two men in suits arrived, and the duke went outside on the platform to speak to them. When one of them turned, she spied the badge pinned to his lapel.
The pair shook hands with the duke and then went off to disappear into the crowd milling about on the platform. She stood to pace the railcar’s elegant parlor. It seemed as though hours were passing when the clock only ticked away a few minutes.
Finally the door opened and Mack stepped inside. She hurried across the room to fall into his arms.
“Well now,” he said with his familiar laugh. “That’s a nice welcome, wife.”
“Mack, I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again. Then when the sheriff said…” She held him at arm’s length and studied the bruise that darkened his right cheek. “What happened to you?”
“Someone took exception to the fact that I married you,” he said. “Or at least that’s how I understand it.”
“Yes,” the duke said. “You certainly ruined what was a well-thought-out plan.” He shrugged. “They just didn’t count on an old man’s persistence and a young man’s thick head.”
Mack winced. “Not thick enough.”
“I don’t understand,” Gloree said.
Mack and his father exchanged matching glances. How had she missed the fact these two were related?
“It all starts with my younger son, Colin,” the duke said. “He decided his chances of inheriting were increased if he was the only son. Mack here isn’t keen on taking over for me, so it was a simple matter to send him off on an adventure where he’d be safe from Colin and his schemes. It took some time, but I finally managed to catch Colin in the act of intercepting mail sent to Mack’s mother and banish him.” He shrugged. “Not that it’s a terrible banishment. He is in charge of my holdings in the Caribbean.”
Mack chuckled. “Colin detests the heat. For him, it’s a terrible banishment.”
“Your mother,” Gloree said.
“Yes, I know.” His voice was rough, his expression soft. “But they married and were happy. A much better fate than I expected.”
She nodded and then leaned into him again. “I have news,” she said. “We may no longer own the ranch. A will has been produced. Pitt’s man finally arrived in Calleyville.”
The duke snorted. “That will is as fake as the man who delivered it. Both hired by Colin and supported by the sheriff himself. You’d be surprised what money will buy, including a sheriff’s loyalty.”
“It was the sheriff who hauled me out of the ranch and threw me on a train. I don’t know where they thought they were taking me, but they didn’t get any farther than Denver.” Mack glanced over at the older man. “Thanks to my father, they were caught.”
The duke smiled and clasped his hand on Mack’s shoulder. Neither spoke.
Finally, Gloree’s curiosity got the better of her. “So, you’re the son of a duke and not a card shark?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s true,” he said with a grin.
“That makes me…”
“The wife of the next duke, I suppose,” the elderly man said. “Though he’s going to accept the title with much argument, I’m sure.”
Mack shrugged. “I’m learning to like the idea,” he said. “Though my wife will wish us to split our time, won’t you, dear?”
“Split our time?” She shook her head. “You mean…”
“The title will be ours someday,” he said gently, “but for now Father presides over the family home and lands. However, we’ll never be far from the ranch, I promise.”
She grasped his hand and held on until she could manage to speak. “I just have one more question, then.”
“What’s that?”
“If your name isn’t Mack McCoy, what is it?”
Both men laughed. “McCoy was his mother’s family name,” his father said. “The man you married was christened Maximillian Alexander Claudius Kennedy Crenwright.”
He shrugged. “I never knew if Mack was an abbreviation for my mother’s last name or just created from the first letter of my many names.”
The duke shrugged. “Could be either.”
Epilogue
Calleyville, Colorado
June, 1879
The letter tumbled out of the Bible that Mack had found when he finally got around to fixing the loose board on the stairs. He had kept up with his repairs of the ranch because, much as Gloree loved England and Crenwright House, her home was here in Colorado with the man folks here knew simply as Mack.
So
meday he would take his place as the next duke, but with his father’s restored health thanks to the clear air of the Colorado mountains, that day was likely many years in the future.
Gloree smiled as the child in her belly stirred. Funny how the Lord worked things. This time last year she thought her life was over. Now she had a husband who loved her and two sons.
Yes, she knew this child she carried would be a boy just as she knew the son she held sleeping against her shoulder would be as much loved by Mack and his family as his brother.
She slid the letter out of its place marking the sixteenth Psalm but hesitated before opening it. When she was ready, she unfolded the page.
Dear Gloree,
If you’re reading this, then I know you’ve found my hiding place. I’m sorry I never did find the right man for you. I tried, the Lord knows I did. Just seemed like every time I sent a letter to someone, it came back unopened. I reckon I lost track of just about everyone I knew who might be worthy of you. Not that anyone is, Gloree, because they aren’t.
Still, I prayed for a hero for you, for a man who would take my place and love you like I do. God keeps telling me he is out there and I shouldn’t worry. I’ll try not to, but you know me. I worry about you. So if you’re reading this, I figure that whoever took the time to fix the step I broke on purpose has given this letter to you. I sure hope I didn’t put my trust in a God who wouldn’t come through. I can’t imagine that I did.
With all my love,
Pitt
“Oh Pitt,” she whispered as she kissed the head of their sleeping son. “He did come through.”
Gloree tucked the letter back into the Bible and returned it to its hiding place. Someday she would tell the whole story to their son, a story that began with the loss of a good man and ended with the love of another.
Someday, but not tonight. Tonight the tale was too fresh, the boy too young to understand that sometimes great love comes from great loss.
And that sometimes true love means setting aside what seems to be for what is. That’s what faith looked like to Gloree Lowe McCoy, or rather Gloree, future Duchess of Crenwright, as the shadows of the fire danced across the floor and her husband slept beneath a quilt that once hung on a rope in the middle of the room.
The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection Page 47