Promises Kept

  That comment snapped Colt to attention. “What do you know about Maddie?”

  “Everyone knows about you and Maddie,” T. J. interjected.

  “That’s because all of you talk too dam . . . dang much,” Colt said.

  “Ma says when a fella starts getting desires for more than kissin’, then he’s old enough to consider the consequences.”

  Colt was happy that Tate’s mother gave him such good advice.

  “What do you know about desires, whippersnapper?” T. J. asked.

  “I’m growing up,” Tate answered seriously. “I know about all that stuff.”

  Tate was growing up, Colt realized. Sometimes he wished the boy could remain young forever and not have to face any of the hardships life was sure to throw at him. He’d already seen enough difficulty for one so young.

  “Those boys are crazy about you,” Tate continued. “When I took them to the restaurant, all they did was talk about you.”

  “They’re good boys.” Colt smiled, thinking about all of the questions the boys could come up with. He’d asked his fair share when he was a boy, as had his brothers, as did Tate, but he thought the twins set a record.

  “You should have more in your life than the ranch. You need someone to share your life with,” Tate said. “Ma says men need a woman’s touch or they become too predictable.”

  “All women say that because they all want husbands,” T. J. informed them.

  Tate sounded so old and wise, it surprised Colt. He couldn’t argue the boy had a point. Until Victoria came to Promise, his life had been fairly predictable. Now it was anything but. Wait a dang minute, I like predictable. I like things as they were before.

  “Ma also told me it’s important for boys to have a pa. She says women can’t teach a boy how to become a man without a man’s help. That’s why she’s so thankful to you, Colt. She says you’re a good influence on me. She tells me all the time that I will grow up to be a good man like you. She doesn’t want me to be like my pa. He was drunk all the time and mean to us kids before he took off.”

  That brought a lump to Colt’s throat, and it took him a minute to collect himself. “I’m honored that your ma thinks highly of me. I’m sorry about your pa; a man should live up to his responsibilities.” He thought about the parents of the twins. It was beyond his comprehension that both parents could walk away from those boys.

  T. J. waited for Colt’s answer, and finally he had to ask, “Are you gonna answer Tate’s question, or not?”

  Colt got up and threw some more wood on the dying fire as he thought over his response. “I hadn’t gotten that far in my thinking.” He looked from Tate to T. J. “But I guess you two have given me something to think about.” He winked at Tate. “Now can we get some sleep?”

  T. J. grinned at Tate. “He was always slow in his thinking.”

  “I guess we can go to sleep as long as you are gonna think about it,” Tate responded.

  Long after Tate and T. J. fell asleep, Colt was staring into the night sky, thinking about Tate’s question. He was attracted to Victoria and he wanted her, no question there. But if he was going to have her, he knew he’d have to marry her. He liked being with the boys and had quickly grown very fond of them. So what was holding him back? He didn’t have a lot of free time right now to court a woman in the right way. The ranch kept him busy when there was no trouble. Now, with all of the problems, his workload had doubled and there was no time for much of anything else. And more trouble was coming; he could feel it deep down. He didn’t want Victoria and the boys in the middle of whatever was about to happen. He couldn’t ignore the fact that Victoria didn’t trust him enough to tell him what she was hiding about her past. What would happen if he did marry her and became a dad to the boys, and their real parents showed up and wanted them back? What would he do then? He couldn’t see himself turning the boys over to people who had walked off and left them once before. That could mean more trouble. Then there was the fact that he wasn’t a marrying man.

  His mind drifted from the reasons he shouldn’t marry her, to seeing himself teaching the boys to ride and rope, going to church as a family on Sundays, having family dinners, and ending each day in bed with Victoria. He fell asleep with a big smile on his face.

  Colt crouched near the dying embers of the fire with his gun in his hand, looking out into black emptiness.

  T. J. woke up and saw Colt crouched down, gun drawn, kicking dirt into the flames. “Colt, what the . . . ?” At first he thought Colt must have had a dream and thought they were in danger. But in the next instant T. J. realized it was gunfire that had awakened him. He scrambled to his feet. “Was that a gunshot?”

  “Shhhh,” Colt whispered, still gathering his wits after being awakened from a deep sleep. “Get down! Yeah, it was a gunshot.” Colt looked at Tate’s empty bedroll. “Where Tate?”

  “He probably had to go—”

  Before T. J. could finish, Colt was running into the darkness. “Tate! Tate! Answer me, dammit!” he screamed.

  T. J. didn’t know whether to follow Colt or go in another direction. Before he had time to make a decision he heard a heart-wrenching wail, unlike anything he’d ever heard.

  “Tate! Oh, Tate! Nooooooo!” The raw emotion of Colt’s cry rent the silent darkness.

  T. J. ran in the direction of Colt’s voice. He’d only taken a few steps when another shot rang out. Diving for cover behind a rock, he waited, listening. Silence. Without a thought for his own safety, he fired three quick shots in the air to alert the men closest to them that there was a problem. He figured the men in the south range were less than two miles away, so they could hear the shots. Belly crawling over the rocky terrain, he moved slowly in Colt’s direction. Even though his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he still couldn’t see Colt. It was so quiet he could hear the sound of horses in the distance, and hoping it was their men, he fired off three more rounds to direct them.

  Scanning the terrain, he finally saw what he thought was Colt on the ground. He wasn’t moving. Just as he was going to call out to him, he heard hoofbeats going in the opposite direction. Jumping to his feet, he ran to the immobile form on the ground.

  “Colt! Colt!” When he reached him, he realized Colt was lying on top of Tate. As he turned him over, he felt a wet warm spot on his shirt. Blood. He thought Colt was dead until he heard him groan. Instinctively, he knew Tate was dead, but he prayed to God he was wrong. He placed a hand on the boy’s chest to see if he could feel a heartbeat. Feeling no sign of life, he attended to Colt, trying to staunch the bleeding of a wound he couldn’t see in the dark. He didn’t even hear the arrival of the men until Rance was next to him, asking what happened.

  “Colt’s been shot in the back. Tate’s dead,” he said solemnly. “Five of you men go after him.” He pointed in the direction he’d heard the assailant ride away.

  Rance knew T. J. was not thinking clearly right now. “There might be more men waiting for us to do exactly that, and that would give them the opening they need to cause more trouble. We can track better in the morning.”

  T. J. realized Rance was right. The men couldn’t be everywhere at one time. “You’re right. Let’s wait until morning. Two of you help me get Colt home, and two of you take care of Tate and bring Doc Barnes back pronto. The rest of you get back to the cattle.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Colt was still unconscious when Doc Barnes arrived some two hours later. T. J., along with Tom and Helen, had removed Colt’s shirt and had cleaned the wound and slowed the bleeding. They were relieved to find the bullet had missed Colt’s spine, if only by the narrowest of margins. They all worked under the watchful eye of Bandit, who hadn’t moved from the side of the bed since T. J. and Rance carried Colt upstairs.

  Feeling Colt’s weak pulse, the doctor voiced his concern. “He’s lost a lot of blood. But we can’t wait to get that bullet out.” He sent Helen to boil more water and get him some clean cloths. After Helen left the room, he spoke soft
ly to T. J. and Tom. “I have to be honest here. I don’t like the looks of him, and that bullet is too close to his spine.” He looked at T. J. “You say he never woke up, not even for a minute?”

  T. J. shook his head. “No, I thought it might be because he’s just plumb worn out. He hasn’t had much sleep in over a month.”

  The doc pulled up Colt’s eyelids and looked into his pupils. “I hope I’m steady enough to get that bullet out without damaging anything vital.”

  “It’s probably best he’s not awake. If you’d heard him when he found Tate—” T. J.’s voice broke, and he looked from the doctor to Tom. “I never heard a sound like that.” The gut-wrenching scream played over and over in his mind. Everyone knew Colt was crazy about the boy and watched over him like he was his pa. “When he gets better, he’ll kill Wallace for sure over this,” he added.

  “If Colt dies, I’ll kill Wallace,” Tom stated in his straightforward way. Tom had been around when Colt was born and he loved him like a son.

  It seemed to take the doc forever to dig the bullet out of Colt. Once it was removed, Helen cleaned the area again so the doc could stitch him up. Tom and T. J. held Colt so the doc could wrap the bandage around him. “I never realized just how big a man he is,” the doc commented.

  Between the four of them, they managed to get Colt situated in the middle of the bed. When they stepped away Bandit jumped on the bed, claiming a spot right next to Colt’s side. Over the next few hours they held a vigil in Colt’s room, waiting for him to awaken. Though they were distraught over losing Tate, caring for Colt gave them something to keep their minds off the boy they all loved.

  After a couple of hours, the doctor had to leave to see his other patients. “T. J., if you see any change, if his fever worsens, any change at all, send someone for me. If he comes to, keep him still. I don’t want him moving around at all,” Doc Barnes instructed.

  “I’ll see to it. I have to go see Tate’s ma and ask her to wait a few days before the funeral just in case Colt wakes up. I know he would want to be there to say good-bye. That boy meant a lot to him.”

  “We could wait a couple of days, but not much longer.” He motioned for T. J. to follow him to the hallway. “T. J., I’m not even sure Colt will make it. And even if he does, and even if we wait to bury Tate, Colt won’t be able to get out of bed.”

  Helen overheard what the doc told T. J., but she wasn’t about to accept his lack of faith in the man she’d taken care of since he was a boy. When T. J. walked back into the room, she said, “He’s going to wake up, and mark my words, he’ll be at Tate’s funeral.”

  “I know if anyone can do it, Colt can,” T. J. replied. He was worried, but he wasn’t about to let Helen know that. He wanted to believe that Colt would survive.

  Leaving Tom and T. J. to watch after Colt, Helen headed to the kitchen to cook, since they had all missed breakfast. She knew the men would be coming in to see how Colt was doing, and she needed to make sure they were fed. On her way to the kitchen she heard a soft knock on the front door. When she opened the door she found Victoria, Mrs. Wellington, and the boys standing there.

  “Lane came over and told us about Colt and Tate. How is he? What can we do to help?” Victoria’s hurried words revealed her nervousness.

  Tearing up, Helen could hardly talk. “The doc got the bullet out, but he’s not awake yet. And Tate . . .” she murmured, “that poor boy.” She wiped her tears with her apron. Victoria and Mrs. Wellington wrapped their arms around her.

  “There now, you just have a good cry,” Mrs. Wellington told her.

  “I’ve never seen Colt in such a state. He’s always so big and strong, but now . . .” Helen couldn’t go on.

  “Colt is a strong lad, he will survive this,” Mrs. Wellington assured her.

  Collecting her emotions, Helen said, “I know he will. I’m just so worried about what he will do when he gets his hands on the man responsible for killing Tate.” She gave them a brittle smile. “I’m so happy you are here. I need the company. I was just going to prepare something for the men to eat. Is Bartholomew with you?” It wasn’t often Helen had female companionship and right now it was exactly what she needed.

  “I will do the cooking. You’re done in, and you need to get some rest.” Victoria could tell Helen was at her breaking point.

  “Bartholomew will be in shortly. He’s seeing to the horses,” Mrs. Wellington added.

  “I don’t think I can rest just yet, I’m just too nervous,” Helen replied.

  “Then we’ll fix you up with a spot of tea—that makes everything better,” Mrs. Wellington said.

  “Is Colt going to be an angel like Tate?” Cade asked.

  “Shouldn’t we pray to God for him like we did Bandit?” Cody asked.

  Victoria wasn’t sure if the boys understood about death, since Tate was the first person they knew who died. She’d explained Tate’s death by telling them they would no longer see him, but he was in heaven just like an angel. That explanation seemed to give them some understanding. She pulled both boys into her arms and hugged them to her. “No, Colt is going to be here with us for a long time. We must think good thoughts about him getting well. You can say a prayer for him before dinner.” She couldn’t even entertain the thought that he might die. To her, he was invincible.

  “Can we see him?” Cody asked.

  “Not right now. Let’s give him time to rest.” Victoria thought the best way to keep them from worrying was to keep them busy. “We need to help Helen right now. You two can set the table for her.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they replied together.

  “They are such good boys, Victoria. You’re an excellent mother,” Helen commented.

  Victoria exchanged a look with Mrs. Wellington. Now that she had told the truth to Mrs. Wellington, she felt guilty continuing the lie with other people like Helen, who was becoming her friend. Knowing it was not the time for such discussions, she said, “They are worried about Colt. They’re very fond of him.”

  “I daresay they aren’t the only ones,” Helen replied, glancing in Victoria’s direction.

  Victoria hurried across the room to retrieve an apron off the peg, needing to keep herself busy. “Do you want me to cook enough for all the men?”

  “Yes, I’m sure they will all stop in when they have time, to see how Colt is doing.” Helen sipped the tea Mrs. Wellington served her, but in a few seconds she was back on her feet. “I’d better take some fresh water upstairs.”

  “I’ll take it,” Victoria offered quickly, wanting badly to see Colt. It wasn’t only the boys who needed reassurance that he would be okay.

  Mrs. Wellington moved to the stove. “I’ll take over here. You go ahead.” She knew Victoria was distraught over Colt and would worry until she saw him.

  The first thing Victoria noticed when she walked into the room with a pitcher of water was Bandit snuggled up on the bed beside a deathly still, deathly pale Colt. The two chairs in the room were occupied by Tom and T. J., and both were snoring softly. She moved quietly to the bureau and poured fresh water into the bowl. As if he knew he shouldn’t move, Bandit followed her every move with his eyes. After placing the bowl on the table by the bed, she dipped a cloth in the water and gently washed Colt’s face. The cloth snagged on his dark whiskers, and she remembered when he’d kissed her he was clean shaven. It was frightening how things changed in the space of one day. She could have lost him forever, and that was a thought she couldn’t face.

  Encouraged that he didn’t seem feverish, she reached across Colt and patted Bandit’s head. “He will be okay,” she whispered. Bandit looked from her to Colt and started wagging his tail. She didn’t have the heart to make the dog leave, and thought perhaps on some level it might be a comfort to Colt to have him near.

  It was difficult for her to see this larger-than-life man in such a state of helplessness. Yesterday when he’d pulled her into his arms, he was so warm, strong, and solid, so full of life. She moved her hand to his
chest to feel his heartbeat. It reassured her to feel a strong, rhythmic beat. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You need to wake up. The boys want to see you, and you are worrying everyone to death, especially Bandit.” She jumped when Colt moved his head toward her lips. He let out a small moan, and Bandit’s head snapped up and he looked at Colt. When Colt didn’t open his eyes, Bandit lowered his head back down to rest it on Colt’s hand and let out his own little groan.

  When she finished washing Colt’s face, she took his hand in hers and stared at his face. He looked quite disreputable with a day’s growth of black whiskers and his long, unruly hair, but he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  Unbeknownst to her, Tom and T. J. had awakened and were watching her. If T. J. had had serious thoughts of courting Victoria, they would have been quickly dismissed when he saw the look on her face as she held Colt’s hand. He couldn’t figure out two things: why Colt hadn’t realized how she felt, and why she was spending so much time with Wallace.

  Mrs. Wellington walked in carrying a tray. On seeing Tom and T. J. awake, she said in a direct tone that indicated she would brook no argument, “Get yourselves downstairs and have a good meal and then get some rest. Victoria will call you if there is any change.” Both men jumped up and started moving toward the door, not daring to argue with the woman.

  “How is he?” Mrs. Wellington asked.

  “He doesn’t feel feverish, so I think that is a good sign.”

  Placing the tray of food on a table by the chair, Mrs. Wellington walked to the bed and looked at Colt. “I thought you might want to stay up here while Helen rests for a while, the poor dear. Why don’t you eat here and after I clean the dishes, I will come sit with him. Don’t worry about the boys; they are already at the table with the men.”

  “I got him last night,” Hoyt Nelson told Wallace.

  “What are you talking about?” Wallace asked, settling in his chair.