“Go on. You’re greedy for gold. There are fifty-dollar gold pieces inside. Five thousand dollars’ worth. It was to have been your wedding present,” he stated in a cold, relentless voice. “Of course, we were going to pay for the wedding and the trip to San Francisco you wanted so badly. And my mother, the woman who made a slave of you, ordered the satin for your wedding gown from France, and the lace and the silks, no expense to be spared for our Rosanna.
“And this,” he added, lifting the gilt-edged deed from the box. “This was the balance of your gift. One thousand acres in the south quarter made out to you and Enrique. Despite what I believed about him, despite my suspicions, my mother insisted this be done. She wanted everything for your happiness, Rosanna.
“But she is not a wise woman, this softhearted mother of mine. She nursed a viper who put us through hell.”
Conner was breathing heavily. He didn’t think he could continue with his cold delivery, but when he looked at Santo, at the hard, implacable features, he knew he had no choice.
“Take your Judas gold, Rosanna. But not the deed to our land.” He ripped the paper into shreds then let them fall while her eyes watched him like a wary animal watched a predator.
“I do not want your gold.”
“Think of the money as payment for the service you have tendered this household. There will be no debts between us. I want you off Kincaid land by morning. And if you think I am weak because I don’t kill you now, I won’t be in the morning. You will keep your life because of the love I bear for your father and mother.”
He quickly went to Santo and helped him stand. “Lean on me, old friend, it is finished now.”
“No.” Santo stared at his daughter. “I grieve the loss of my child. I have no daughter. My wife has no daughter,” he said in a strong, ringing voice. “My son will claim no sister. You are wiped from our memory as if you had never been given life. You will go as you are, as el patróne has ordered. You will never return.”
“Padre.”
“You have none.” He leaned heavily against Conner. “Take me from this room. I will not breathe the air with this foul betrayer.”
“You think you have won, el patróne,” she cried out in a shrill voice.
Conner kept walking. Santo handed him the key as they stood by the door, but as Conner slipped the key into the lock, his blood turned cold when Rosanna spoke.
“Go look in the silken purse of the fine lady you brought into your fine house, señor. Go and see who is the true betrayer beneath this roof.”
“What lies—”
“Leave her, Santo. I didn’t hear anything.” But he had heard her. Rosanna was many things, but would she make a claim so easily disproved against Belinda when the girl had barely escaped with her life? Yet to even consider there was any truth…no! He refused to play her game.
“Do you not ask yourself how Charles knew where to strike this night? How could Charles know where there are no guards?”
Conner unlocked the door and urged Santo out into the hall.
Before Conner fathomed her intent, Rosanna shoved past her father, knocking him into Conner. She flew down the hall to the guest room given to Belinda.
“Go. Go after her,” Santo ordered as Conner steadied him against the wall.
Conner ran. He wanted her to have no chance of planting some false evidence against Belinda. Coming through the doorway, he almost slammed into Rosanna.
“There, go look.” She pointed at Belinda’s reticule sitting on the low dresser. “Are you afraid?” she mocked.
“You were ordered to leave this house.”
“Is that all you can tell me? Look at it. Look,” she dared in a rising pitch. Rosanna grabbed the silk pouch from the dresser and tore open the drawstring. “Here,” she declared, throwing a small, folded paper at him. It fell to the floor at his feet. Enraged, she rushed to sweep it up and pushed it into Conner’s hand.
Her gaze shifted from Conner to the door. Belinda stood there, one hand covering her mouth. Behind her stood Macaria and Phillip.
“I am guilty. I will leave this place gladly. But see first the viper you nestled in your arms, Conner.”
“Conner, wait. I can explain.”
He gave no indication that he heard Belinda’s softly spoken protest. He opened each fold slowly, dreading what he would find. He noted the fine trembling of his hand but couldn’t stop it. His gaze locked on the map he held. He studied each dark dot, each place marked to show where they had posted guards around the land that bordered Riverton’s.
“A most damning piece of evidence,” he murmured in a very controlled voice. Then he dropped the map to the floor. His boot heel ground the paper into the carpet.
He leveled a cold look at Rosanna. “Is there more?”
Head held high, defiant to the end, Rosanna walked out of the room. No one spoke to her, their attention was on Conner and what he would do.
Belinda could not wait, she stepped forward, stopping behind him.
“Conner, I copied that map from one that Charles had. I overheard him buying the map. I was going to use it to bargain with you if you continued to refuse to let me see Marty. But I brought it with me with the intention of giving it to you so you would know that Charles had this information.”
“Your confession is unnecessary, Belinda.”
“What did you say?” She grabbed his arm, but he caught hold of her hand and drew her to stand in front of him.
“Since this is your first visit to my home, Belinda, you couldn’t have copied the map here. When did you have time to search? You didn’t even know anything about it.” He lifted his hands and very gently threaded his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her neck.
Belinda searched his features, studying his weary eyes. No accusation gleamed in their darkness. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for your belief and your trust.”
“You’re very welcome.” He ignored the tremor of his hands as his thumbs caressed the sensitive skin beneath her chin, then tilted her head up. Her dark eyes held a potent magic as they gazed into his. Conner couldn’t resist his need. He lowered his mouth to hers.
Due to their audience, the kiss was, of necessity, chaste and far too brief, but filled with promise.
“Your bed,” he mouthed with barely a sound against her lips, “is very tempting.”
“Your mother. My uncle.” She brushed the words over his mouth in a regretful reminder.
“Forgive me.” His forehead touched hers. “I’m not thinking. It wasn’t meant as an improper suggestion. I’m afraid I’ve reached the end of my endurance.”
Belinda took a moment before she jerked her head back. Conner’s hands slipped from her neck. His eyes shuttered closed and he pitched forward. Only her uncle’s fast reflex saved them from both toppling to the floor.
Belinda spent what remained of the night in Conner’s bed. Alone.
The most incredible display of color heralded the dawn by the time she finally closed her eyes.
She had discovered a most frightening feeling.
She was in danger of falling in love with Conner Kincaid.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Logan and Ty led a weary, somber group of men past the burned barn late the next afternoon. Kenny, who had ridden out to meet them at Marty’s first warning shout from the tower, had told them what transpired while they were stopping the stampede and rounding up the scattered, frightened cattle.
There were whispers from a few of the men, but one rode without remorse when he viewed the destruction the fire had left. Charles Riverton sat as erect as his bound arms would allow, and smiled as they rode past the barn.
Kenny scowled at the man, wishing he was older, bigger, he’d show him what it meant to mess with the Kincaids.
Just as the men pulled ahead, veering off to the corral near the bunkhouse, Jessie stepped out of the bunkhouse kitchen. For a few moments she stood there, wiping her hands on her apron, hiding their trembling as she studied each man w
alking his horse past her. Shoulders slumped, dust laden and tired, each one nodded, or attempted a smile for her.
“Smell that hot coffee,” Hazer said.
“There’re hot biscuits and bacon waiting inside,” she called out in a choked voice when she finally saw Logan. He drew rein to wait for her and, with a glad cry, she ran to him.
Jessie stood looking up at her husband, blinking back the sudden spurt of tears. Dark stubble covered his face, his clothes were dusted with reddish brown dirt, but he had never looked more handsome to her. She spared a quick smile for Ty, knowing by his presence that Kenny had not told him about the baby. But then Jessie knew firsthand how well Kenny kept secrets.
Logan held out a leather-clad hand for Jessie. “Casey,” he ordered, “take Riverton down to the woodshed and lock him up till Conner decides what to do with him.” He leaned over, kicking his boot free of the stirrup, so Jessie could mount in front of him. Holding her close, without a word exchanged, Logan absorbed the incredible feeling of coming home that stole over him. With his chin he nudged aside her single braid to kiss her bare neck.
“I swear, sweetheart, you’re sweet as water to a thirsty man.”
When he lifted the reins, Riverton’s shouts stopped him.
“What the hell does Conner decide?” Charles demanded. He twisted around as far as his bound arms allowed, to keep Logan in sight. “I’ll have a fair trial. I have powerful friends, Kincaid. And you’ve got no proof that I had anything to do—”
“Your men stampeded our cattle. Folks around here don’t need more proof of guilt than that. Conner’s the law. In case you forgot, Riverton.”
Ty continued, his voice rising to cut across Riverton’s tirade. “Conner says you get a trial, you’ll have one. Should he want to see you hung on the old Cottonwood outside town, that’s the way it’ll be. If he figures you should get lost in the canyons yonder, that can happen, too.”
Ty ignored the rest of Riverton’s threats and looked at his brother. “I’ve got a hurting pair of empty arms, I’m for home.”
“I’m right behind you, Ty.”
Jessie leaned back against Logan’s warm body. “It’s a terrible burden to place on Conner,” she murmured.
“And you know Conner wouldn’t have it any other way, love.” He cradled her closer, urging his horse at a walk toward the open gates. “Can you wait,” he asked her softly, “till we’re all together so I tell only once what happened?”
“You’re home and unhurt. I know all that I need,” she replied. Her hands covered his as she offered another prayer of thanksgiving.
“You would have been so proud of our boys, Logan. And Belinda fought alongside us. She didn’t quit till Conner did. I have a feeling…”
“Keep your feelings for me. Ah, Jess, I love you. I never want to live through the hell of last night again.” And I never want to see your lovely eyes bruised with sorrow and fatigue again. Logan briefly thought of the sketchy details Kenny had provided about Rosanna. He added that grief to what he carried for the loss of three good men.
“They’re here! They’re here!” Marty shouted from the tower. He waved at the small party riding through the gates then scrambled down the ladder.
Macaria stood with Phillip near the front door. Her lips moved in prayer when she saw that her sons were weary but not wounded. Logan set Jessie down, then dismounted. Ty, however, sat on his horse, a bewildered look in his eyes as he glanced around for Dixie.
“She is well, my son,” Macaria hastened to explain. “Go to her, Ty. She waits in your room for you.”
His initial fear subsided. His mother would not wear a joyful smile if anything had happened to Dixie. Ty gave himself a mental kick. After the ordeal of fighting the fire, his whole family had to be exhausted, and expectant mother or not, if he knew his wife, she had been right there in the thick of the battle. He wished for the hundredth time that Logan hadn’t stopped him from beating Riverton to a bloody pulp. He swung his leg over the horse and stood for a few moments before he tossed the reins to Marty.
“Give the horses grain and plenty of it, son.”
“I’ll take care of ’em. Don’t worry.” His eyes held a merry expression as he shot looks over his shoulder at Ty while he walked the horses back toward the gate.
Ty shook his head, tilted his hat back and pecked his mother’s cheek. “Riverton’s tied up in the woodshed,” he whispered. “Me, I’m for my wife and bed.” He was already stripping off his gloves and the sweat-dampened bandanna from his neck as he walked into the house.
“Logan, there is hot water for you, my son,” she told him as he approached with his arm around Jessie’s waist. “There will be no talking until you and Ty have rested and eaten.”
He wasn’t about to argue with her. He didn’t know if he could stand long enough to wash. “Just tell me one thing. Where is Conner? We brought him a present.”
“He must have seen you return. He went up the hillside to your father’s grave. He wanted to ride out after you, but we managed to convince him to wait.” She frowned when the expected shout of joy was not forthcoming from the house. Looking at Logan, she said softly, “If you will promise you will pretend surprise, I will tell you of the blessing we received.”
“Promise,” he said. “Blessing, huh? Like in Dixie and a baby?”
“Sí, the baby. A sweet little girl, Logan. Both are well,” she reassured him. “Do not spoil the news for your brother when he comes to tell you.”
Logan glanced at the open doorway. “He must know by now and not a peep out of him. Maybe I’d better go see if he’s passed out. It’d be just like him.”
“No, you don’t.” Jessie locked both arms around his waist. “This is their time, alone.” She smiled up at him.
“Well, if it was me, I’d be shouting down the house.” He hugged Jessie and whispered in her ear. “I’d like some time alone, too, Mrs. Kincaid.”
“But Conner will want to—”
“Go,” Macaria ordered. “I will tell Conner.”
“Come along, Jessie. Did I ever tell you what a good, dutiful son I am? Madre only has to order, and I obey.”
Her soft laughter helped to chase his weariness.
“Have I ever told you, outlaw, that you have a most lecherous smile?”
“The better to please you with, wife.”
Their banter stopped before they reached Ty’s room. Without a word spoken, they crept past the closed door. But the silence had them share a look of concern.
Logan and Jessie needn’t have worried. Ty had not passed out. Nor did he shout his joy. The darkened room scared him at first, just as seeing Dixie in bed, under the covers had. But the moment he stepped closer and saw what his dozing wife held tucked against her side, Ty could barely think, much less speak, as he gazed down in awe.
He and Dixie, with love, had created this tiny angel. He blinked back the wetness stinging his eyes as he fell to his knees beside the bed. His heart pumped furiously, and he felt small as the tide of emotions rose.
“Ty.” Her whisper brought his head up. She lifted a hand to touch his beard-stubbled cheek.
“I’m here, love. I—”
She smiled. “I know. I keep looking at her and—”
“A girl? We have a little girl? Now I have two angels to love.”
Dixie shifted the baby and herself to make room for Ty.
“Let me wash my hands.” When Ty joined her on the bed he kissed his wife.
Dixie took his hand. “Touch her, Ty. I promise she won’t break.”
His finger trembled as he traced his daughter’s tiny features. “She’s beautiful.” He stared as his finger touched the corner of her small mouth that opened in reflex, seeking what Ty couldn’t give her.
Dixie freed the soft cashmere shawl wrapped around the baby. She lifted up one tiny hand, marveling, as she had while waiting for Ty, at how perfectly formed she was.
“Have you told them what name we chose?”
“N
o. I want you to do that.”
“The first Kincaid princess. I want to promise her the world. Dixie, was it hard for you?”
As countless women had done before her, Dixie looked at her husband and lied. “The moment I held her in my arms I forgot the pain.”
“Thank you for the sweet lie. And for our baby. Reina Justine Kincaid, welcome to the world.”
Conner had watched his brothers return with Riverton from the hillside where their father was buried. Two ironwood trees shaded the plot. He wished he could feel relief that their enemy had been caught, some sense that it was over. But he knew what he still faced as he made his way back to the house.
At the last minute he veered away from the front gates and went around to the back ones that led to the garden.
Belinda had been there when he left the house earlier.
He couldn’t begin to explain to himself why he sought out her company at a time when he needed to be clearheaded. If there was one thing Belinda did well, it was cloud his thinking.
Unfortunately, just as he discovered her whereabouts in the far corner of the garden, he heard his mother’s and Phillip’s voices as they walked on the rose-bordered flagstone path.
Belinda sat on a wooden bench built to encircle an aged juniper tree. The berries Sofia used for cooking hadn’t ripened yet, but he recalled the scoldings she had delivered when he and his brothers used the berries in peashooters. She appeared lost in thought, oblivious to his approach.
“I had hoped to find you alone, Belinda. We need to talk. But it seems we are about to have my mother’s company.”
Surprise rippled through her that Conner had sought her out after avoiding her most of the day. Kenny had come to tell her that Logan and Ty returned with Charles. Although she had come to this quiet corner to make a few important decisions, she also wondered what Conner intended to do with Charles.
She gathered the skirt of the gray twilled silk gown that Macaria had lent her, to make room for Conner to sit. But he had glanced down the path and missed her silent invitation. When he looked back at her, Belinda stared straight ahead, hands folded primly in her lap.
Once a Lawman Page 22