Once a Lawman

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Once a Lawman Page 19

by Raine Cantrell


  “Oh, yes, Marty, Conner will heal.”

  His gaze lowered to the floor. He noisily sucked his lower lip. Kenny said he had to stop, but when he was scared, it was hard for him.

  “You like Conner very much?”

  “Sure do. He was bringing me my badge. He promised to make me one of his deputies.”

  “Everyone must be proud of you.” Belinda couldn’t bring herself to ask if Jessie or Logan were especially proud. She did not want him to leave her.

  “You’re the…the 1-lady that came to t-take me away?”

  “I am your Aunt Belinda. Your father was my older brother.”

  “He’s d-dead. So’s my ma.”

  “It must have been a terrible time for you. I wish I had been there for you.”

  “I had Kenny.”

  Without the least bit of resentment, Belinda murmured, “I am glad that he was with you, Marty. You have become close to Kenny, and I can understand how depending on each other would make you feel—”

  “You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know me. Kenny lied to Logan and Jessie so’s no one could take me away. Kenny knows about the bad dreams an’ he fixes them for me.”

  Belinda closed her eyes briefly. If he had said go away, I don’t want to come with you, his declaration could not have been plainer. When she started out on her search to find him, she had not given much thought to what he would want. In the past few weeks she had undergone so many changes in her thinking that she could not answer Marty with a firm directive. Legally she was his guardian, it was her right to have him live with her. And morally…

  “How come I don’t remember you?” Marty asked.

  The question fell artlessly from his lips, but it was one she had dreaded being asked. Conner shifted in his sleep and she seized the excuse to stand. Placing one finger over her lips, she motioned Marty toward the doorway.

  Marty tugged on her skirt and, in a very hushed, stammering voice, asked, “Didn’t you ever want to know me?”

  Jessie reached the doorway just as they did.

  “Marty. I told you not to bother her.” For all that she reprimanded him, she welcomed Marty. He buried his face against her skirt and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him there. “Didn’t I tell you that when your aunt is ready to talk to you, she would? And didn’t I tell you not to ask questions?”

  Marty’s head bobbed up and down, but he didn’t release his hold on Jessie.

  “He has a right to ask questions, Jessie.” Belinda looked into Jessie’s eyes and found both resentment and sympathy for her. She wanted to dislike this woman who held her nephew within sheltering arms. Belinda could not. Jessie had been there for him, like Kenny and the rest of the Kincaid family when Belinda had not.

  Seeing the way Marty clung to Jessie made Belinda feel woefully inadequate to deal with the young boy’s needs. She had just told Jessie that Marty had a right to ask her questions, but Belinda knew she needed more time to form answers that were not composed of lies.

  Belinda could not censure her deceased brother and his wife for keeping her away from their child. The boy had suffered enough without learning the cause of their being kept apart. But she did not want him to think that she had never wanted to know him. She had, from the moment he had been born.

  “I came to see if you would join us for supper?”

  “But Conner…” Belinda began.

  “My husband’s already eaten with your uncle. He’ll sit with Conner.” Jessie cradled Marty’s cheek, gently lifting his head. “Go wash up. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Both women watched him until he darted out of sight into one of the rooms far down the hall. Jessie was the first to speak.

  “We have lots to talk about, but it can all wait until tomorrow. No,” she added when Belinda attempted to protest. “Those are Macaria’s orders.”

  But it never came to pass, not the next day, for the night was torn with the shouts of stampede, and the ranch turned into an armed camp.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Belinda woke from a fitful sleep as booted feet pounded down the hall outside her room. She could hear shouting and it seemed the whole household was awake.

  Grabbing her borrowed robe from the foot of the bed, she ran from her room. In various states of undress the family gathered in the front courtyard to listen as a winded rider told of the stampede.

  “Swear we had no warnin’, Logan. Tarabee went down before we could try and turn the herd. There’s only three men holding those bastards off. Can’t tell how many are up on the rim of the valley firin’ down at ’em.”

  The furious clanging of several bells, one from the courtyard, and the others near various buildings scattered outside began ringing their alarming summons.

  Belinda stood at the back, questions and orders flying too quickly for her to follow the speakers.

  It appeared as if every man who worked for the Kincaids poured through the open gates, men still hitching up suspenders, buttoning shirts or buckling on gun belts. She had to stand on tiptoe to see. Logan and Ty were visible as torches lit the courtyard. They worked their way through the milling crowd.

  Jessie and Macaria rushed back into the house just as Santo, with Sofia’s help, hobbled into view from around the house where their small home was. They, too, were soon swallowed up in the crowd of men.

  Belinda called out when she spotted her uncle, but he couldn’t hear her above the raised voices. It took her moments to realize the bells were silent. The crowd seemed to shift to one side and she saw the reason why. Three men led saddled horses to the gates of the courtyard. Jessie dashed past, her arms filled with boots and weapons, while she yelled for Logan and Ty.

  Belinda had steadily been stepping backward until the very wall of the house stopped her flight. She had never felt so useless.

  “No quarter!” The words swelled to a roar as men mounted.

  In minutes they were gone. The ground shook with the thundering hooves, then the night fell silent with the thudding as the massive gates were closed and barred.

  Belinda focused on her uncle meeting Macaria in front of the gates. His arm slipped over Macaria’s shoulders as they turned to walk back toward the house. Light and shadow wove over them, but there was enough light to see Phillip’s head bent toward hers. If they spoke, it was in whispers to each other. They stopped near Jessie, and she, too, turned away from the gates, then beckoned to Santo and Sofia.

  A blunted curse brought Belinda away from the wall to face the house. Conner, his chest tightly wrapped in linen strips from beneath his arms to the waistband of a pair of black pants, stood swaying on his feet, one hand gripping the doorframe. Kenny, who had his shoulder wedged beneath Conner’s arm, was swearing at him.

  “Help me get this ornery critter back to bed,” he yelled, struggling to hang on to Conner.

  “Let go. I’ll tan your bottom—” Conner threatened.

  “Too big for that.”

  “I’ll show you—”

  “Conner, stop it!” Belinda reached him first. “You are as pale as that linen holding you together. Kenny’s right. You belong in bed. The boy has more sense than you do.”

  “They’re my cattle. It’s my problem. I’m still the law—”

  “Yes, yes, you are.” In a flash of understanding, Belinda knew how he felt. As useless as she had moments ago. But this was something she could do. “If you attempt to ride out now, you will only hurt yourself. What good will you be when your brothers bring those men in for justice if you cannot walk?”

  She went closer, intending to replace Kenny’s support with her own.

  “Damn you, Belinda.”

  “Curse at me, lawman, and I will give you the same back.” She knew his furious whisper was directed at himself, for his eyes closed and he stopped struggling with Kenny.

  Before Belinda made her move, Marty’s frightened voice came from within the house.

  “Ma Jess! Ma Jess! She’s yelling for you!”
>
  Marty wiggled and squeezed his way passed Kenny and Conner. His nightshirt tucked halfway into his pants flapped like a tail as he ran for Jessie.

  “What happened, Marty? What’s wrong? Who’s yelling?” Jessie demanded.

  “Dixie.” Marty gulped. “She’s all wet and hollering the b-baby’s coming.”

  “Oh, my Lord!”

  “Calm, Jessie. We all must be very calm.” Macaria left Phillip and came forward. “Belinda, you and Kenny will take my son back to his bed. Stay there with him so he does not add to his injuries. Conner, remember, you are to set an example for the young ones. Sofia, the kitchen, we have much to do with the baby coming early. Jessie, you will help me with Dixie.”

  “And me?” Marty wanted to know. “What’s there for me to do?”

  “Ah, my brave niño, for you there is work, too.” Macaria knelt in front of Marty and placed her hands on his thin shoulders. “I give to you the most important work of all. You must keep watch for us.”

  “In the tower?”

  “Sí. In the tower.”

  “You want me to be the lookout? I can use the field glass, too?”

  “Sí. Sí, my child, you will do this.” She released him and stood up with Phillip’s assistance. For a moment they watched Marty jumping around before he ran to Kenny.

  “Did ya hear? Oh, boy, Kenny, did ya hear?” He turned to Macaria. “Can I take PeeWee with me?”

  “Sí,” she answered, hurrying into the house.

  Belinda managed to get a reluctant Conner away from the doorway when Macaria suddenly stopped in the hall.

  “Sofia, where is your daughter?”

  “She is here, in the house. She wished to spend the night should you have need of her.” Sofia looked over her robe-clad shoulder at her husband, who had stopped a few feet behind her. “Santo, you hear Rosanna say this?”

  “Sí, I heard her. But my eyes did not see our daughter out there. Call her,” he ordered with a hard edge to his voice. “Call Rosanna for la patrona.”

  Phillip stepped forward. “Go on, Sofia, help Macaria. I will look for your daughter.”

  Belinda, feeling Conner break out in a cold sweat, urged him back to his room. They all heard the moans coming from the last room down the hall. Dixie was not going to suffer in silence. Kenny, without being told, closed the door behind them as Belinda helped Conner into bed.

  “I feel as helpless as a calf when a mountain cat comes hunting,” Conner whispered in Belinda’s ear as she tucked the sheet around him.

  “Then we make a pair, lawman, I feel pretty useless myself.”

  “Don’t.” He worked his hand free of the sheet to grab hold of hers. “You’re not useless. I need you right here with me.”

  “To hold your hand?” she asked with self-directed sarcasm.

  “That’s one thing.”

  “Fluff your pillows?”

  “It’d be a mighty big help if you would.”

  “And I suppose you would like me to sit beside you and read you a story until you fall asleep?”

  “How about a whiskey? And if Kenny weren’t here, I’d tell you what else you could do to ease my awful discomfort.”

  “Heck, don’t mind me none.”

  “Fetch me a drink, Kenny.”

  “You don’t drink, Conner.”

  “Don’t argue with me. I need one tonight.”

  Belinda glanced at Kenny. His face reflected his indecision. “I guess one drink won’t hurt him, Kenny. He should not have gotten out of bed. Maybe the whiskey will help him to sleep.”

  “Gee, Conner, if you want to kiss her, go ahead. I ain’t gonna look. I seen enough of that kissin’ stuff with Jessie and Logan. He’s always—”

  “Kenny!” Belinda protested.

  “Kincaids don’t tell,” Conner whispered in a voice that attempted to be stern but was filled with resignation.

  “All right. I’m going. I’ll even knock before I come in. Okay?”

  “Do that,” Conner answered.

  Belinda heard pain and anger mixed in his voice. “Go quickly, Kenny,” she added, thinking the whiskey might mellow the anger in Conner. She waited until the door closed. “Conner, your anger is misdirected. You cannot help being injured. Lord knows,” she said, closing her eyes briefly. “You did nothing to provoke that attack. I didn’t understand at first why you did not shoot those men.”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve come to realize that you risked your life to prevent me from being shot. And they would have killed me.”

  “It was a thought.”

  “I wish I could wind the clock back to the minute you first told me to leave.” She could not look at him now when guilt beat at her, and confession truly would bring her ease. “I could have summoned help.”

  “Belinda.” Conner rejected the struggle it would take for him to get out of the bed, but not without frustration coloring his voice. “You couldn’t have gotten back in time, even if you had known where to go.”

  “Then you did think about it.”

  “Stop. Don’t do this to yourself or me. It’s over. We’re alive.” And they’ll pay.

  And you are hurt. “I think you’ve done enough talking. I know you’re brave, Conner. Braver than any man I’ve known. So you will obey me and rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Not that I have any right to give you orders—”

  “Permission granted.”

  “Conner. Silence. Remember?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Belinda glared at him. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. Conner was making a buttoning motion over his mouth.

  It was moments more before she could speak. “Much better, Mr. Kincaid,” she stated in a prim tone. But the joking truly was at an end. Conner’s eyes closed, and she saw the lines of pain etched on his face.

  When she attempted to move away from the bed, his grip tightened on her hand. Before she could stop him, Conner shifted on the soft mattress to make room for her to sit beside him.

  Belinda hesitated. The events of the day had been harrowing, but sitting alone with Conner in his bedroom suddenly seemed the height of folly. Not for the act of sitting down beside him, but for the great temptation to curl up next to him.

  She had done more than lose her virginity today. She had cast off twenty-six years of following what society deemed right and proper and allowed her desire for one man, this man, to cloud her thinking.

  She was not sure if she should thank Conner Kincaid or hate him for setting her adrift from the rules that governed her life.

  “Such a hard decision?”

  She glanced down at their entwined hands. “I am not sure it’s a wise thing to do.”

  “Don’t be wise.”

  “I have not been sensible from the moment I met you.”

  “Such a bad thing? So troubled?”

  “No, I—”

  “Liar.”

  “You are not to talk, Conner.”

  He tugged on her hand. “Then you can.”

  Perhaps it was the soft glow of lamplight that added to the intimacy of being alone with him, but Belinda found it increased the temptation not only of Conner himself, but to tell him of her confusion. Confusion tangled with the guilt she harbored, her indecision over Marty, and her feelings for him.

  Just as she made up her mind, Kenny knocked on the door, announcing, “It’s jus’ me.”

  When he opened the door, Dixie’s scream entered the room with him. Belinda could not repress a shiver. She knew nothing about childbirth except that married friends spoke about their experiences in secretive whispers, and if she or another of their unmarried acquaintances dared approach them, the talk stopped. How was she supposed to know anything if no one would tell her? Conner had taught her more about her woman’s body in a few hours than she had learned in twenty-six years.

  She felt Conner’s hand squeeze her own. A look revealed the compassion in his eyes. With a wry thought, Belinda had
a feeling he knew exactly how the birthing process proceeded, and what’s more, would not share it with her. But she took the comfort of his hand and tried for a smile to reassure him that she would not fall to pieces.

  Kenny set the glass on the small table near the bed then backed away to the footboard. “The baby’s coming real fast. Thought you’d want to know. Ty’s gonna be madder than a calf on ice with its tail froze that he ain’t here.”

  The look that Kenny shared with Conner served to nudge Belinda’s anger. A sorry state. A boy half her age knew more than she did.

  “Kenny, I know you must be eager to help out somewhere other than here. I’m worried about Marty being alone in the tower. It’s high and he is a little boy. I know it is not my place, but I think he would welcome your company.”

  “You, too?” Kenny looked from Belinda to Conner and shook his head. “Jeez. What’s with folks tonight? Santo chased me from the office. Jessie chased me out of the bedroom. Now you’re getting rid of me. Gettin’ so a fella can’t find a place to light ’round here anymore.” Mumbling, Kenny left them alone.

  Belinda would have called him back, but she caught the wink of his eye and his grin just before the door closed.

  “Good idea,” Conner murmured.

  “I really am concerned about Marty being up there alone. Thank you for the warning about Kenny. He is wise beyond his years.”

  “You disappoint me. I thought you wanted—”

  “To help you drink your whiskey so you can sleep,” Belinda finished for him in a no-nonsense voice.

  She lowered herself to the edge of the bed, then had to scoot forward to reach the glass. She ignored Conner’s attempt to smile and slid one hand behind his neck to lift his head as she placed the glass against his lips.

  His skin felt warm to her touch, but not heated, and she released a sigh of thanks that he had no fever. The damp ends of his hair clung to her fingers. The corded tension in his neck beckoned her to rub the knots away. Belinda could not stop the image that formed of how she had held him for more of the hungry kisses that had set her on fire.

  With a rough shake of her head, she dispersed the image. Conner was injured. What was she thinking of? But as she focused on his features, she found that Conner was staring at her. For a few moments she thought he was aware of exactly what she had been thinking. She blinked several times, but the invitation was still there, brightening his eyes.

 

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