Seth felt the licking flames. Fire crawled along the rock, following the line of spilled kerosene.
It leaped at him, a living thing. His sleeve caught fire.
He jerked awake. His heart pounded but the pain hadn’t come. And the screaming. Something had broken in just as the dreams started. Nightmares, not dreams. Not even close to dreams.
He lay awake, alert as a western man—and a soldier—learns to be. But he couldn’t quite identify the noise he’d heard. It didn’t strike him as dangerous.
Then he felt a tickle on his chin, and in the dark room, dimly lit by the moonlight, he saw dark curls and realized his arms held something.
Someone.
There was a woman in his arms. His heart flipped from fear to excitement, but it raced just as fast and slammed in his chest as his hold on her tightened.
Who was she? Where was he? She fit in his arms so perfectly he felt like he’d come home in a way he’d never been before. Or maybe he was still dreaming.
But his dreams were never like this.
The sound again. What was it? Some little squeak.
He wanted to revel in the feel of this woman, but the sound invaded his thoughts again and a tickle spooked him. He looked down toward his arm—the right one—the one not wrapped around a woman—and met the eyes of a child.
Connor.
Everything snapped into place.
Seth remembered crawling into bed after Callie had fallen asleep, glad he couldn’t ask permission. They were twined in each other’s arms. But on the very edge of the bed where Connor could easily reach. He hadn’t gone to his wife; she had come to him.
And clearly, Connor had crawled out of the blankets Seth had lain on the floor and pulled himself up to stand by the bed. Connor squeaked and his little fingers clawed at Seth’s bare arm. He bounced on his chubby little legs and smiled so big that Seth’s heart hurt from the sweetness of the moment. A chubby baby. A beautiful woman. He hadn’t done much in his life to deserve this.
“Papapapapapapa.” The boy was getting loud.
Seth realized he had about ten seconds to quiet Connor down before he woke the boy’s exhausted, battered mother. With the deepest imaginable regret, he eased Callie aside. She didn’t even twitch. The woman was worn clear out.
“Papapapapapa.” Connor held on to the edge of the bed and bounced faster, grinning and occasionally clawing at Seth some more.
Seth slipped out of bed, dressed quickly and hoisted the boy into his arms.
The soggy boy.
With no idea how to proceed and Connor’s “papapapapa” getting louder with every passing second, Seth slipped out of the room, barefoot.
Soggy baby in hand.
At least he could quiet the boy down—or not—far from Callie.
Glad of an excuse to stop sleeping before the nightmares came, he took Connor out to the lobby. Seth found a night clerk with his head down on the desk in the hotel entry. Seth’s footstep on a creaky board roused the young man.
“Howdy.” Seth didn’t know how to proceed.
Connor bounced in his arms. “Papapapapapa.” He waved at the night clerk. Maybe the baby was saying bye-bye.
“Your son woke you up, huh?” The night clerk smiled at Connor. Seth had a feeling the cute little wiggler would get that reaction from everyone he ever met.
“Yep, and his mother had a hard day yesterday. I’d like for her to sleep.”
“How about I get him some milk from the kitchen?”
Seth heaved a sigh of relief. “How do you know what babies need? I sure don’t. His ma just brought him out here yesterday.”
“Your wife is the one who held off those outlaws that tried to rob the stage, isn’t she?”
Seth reckoned he had himself a famous wife. “That she is.”
“My uncle was riding shotgun on that stage. Your wife saved his life.”
“In that case”—Seth wasn’t sure just how to ask, but something had to be done—“do you know what to do about a soggy diaper?”
The night clerk smiled. “I’m the oldest of five brothers. I reckon I’ve changed my share of diapers.” The boy jerked his head at a satchel by the door to the outside. “That’s your wife’s bag. I’ll see if she’s got diapers in there; otherwise we can swipe a towel out of the kitchen.”
“Now, don’t go to swiping things, son. It ain’t right and your boss’ll fire you. I don’t want that.” Though Seth did badly want a dry diaper for Connor.
The boy laughed. “The boss is my pa. He’s mighty grateful that his brother is going to be all right. He’ll be glad to donate a towel or two.”
“Can you check the satchel? Or do you want the boy?”
“You’ve already got a big old wet spot on your shirt. How about I leave you to hold him, since you’re already wet, and I do the searching?”
“Sounds fine.”
Connor yelled, “Papapapapa!”
“Hey, he can call you papa. He looks real young to be talking. He’s a smart boy.”
That hadn’t occurred to Seth that the boy was making sense. It just sounded like baby jabbering. Maggie could say a few words, including calling Ethan papa. And she was the only baby Seth had ever been around, except for Ethan’s younger baby Lily, and she wasn’t to talking age yet.
It warmed Seth’s heart. “Say papa.”
Connor bounced and yelled, and Seth and the night clerk laughed. It was a mighty fun game. Until they tried to change Connor’s diaper. Then they had a chase on their hands. The boy could squirm and roll and crawl fast as greased lightning.
Seth and Connor had another nighttime adventure about three hours later and another half-grown boy was manning the desk. This one knew his way around a diaper, too.
By the time morning came, Seth had gotten to know his little son pretty well. He could crawl so fast, Seth didn’t dare take his eyes off of him. He laughed and screamed with equal volume and he didn’t like wearing a diaper. It had taken both Seth and the clerk to wrestle him into one.
Seth arranged to have the parson’s wife come early, and when she arrived, he left her with Callie, who hadn’t stirred since that one middle-of-the-night talk they’d had.
The parson’s wife had brought a few things along and she set to work washing and mending the clothes Callie had gotten so tattered yesterday.
Chapter
5
Because Connor seemed inclined toward rowdiness, Seth took his son with him to buy supplies.
“You back, Kincaid?” Russ Stewart at the general store took Seth’s order.
“Yeah, but I’m probably done with my trips to Colorado City. I met my wife on the stage yesterday.” Connor bounced in Seth’s arms and Seth couldn’t hold back a smile at the husky toddler.
“The one that got robbed?”
“Yep.”
“Heard a woman held off four armed bandits.”
“That’s my wife.” Seth grew a little taller with pride. He patted Connor on the back. If Connor had a good dose of his ma in him, he was gonna grow up to be about the best son a man ever had. Of course before they could concentrate on raising their son, Seth had to figure out a way to get Callie to stop trying to kill him.
“I knew the stagecoach driver real well. He’s got a lot of friends in this town and the man riding shotgun’s got family here, a wife and young’uns. I’m obliged to your wife.”
“I’m mighty glad she’s here. I’ve been riding out to meet the stage for a while, waiting for her.”
“Your boy is the spittin’ image of you.” Russ tipped his head at Connor. “I’ll bet you’re glad he finally got here.”
“I am at that.” Glad to know he existed was more like it. “And my wife, too. I’ve got a big order there, Russ. I didn’t figure I needed to fill it when it looked like I’d be back a few more times. But now I’ll stock up for winter. It’s a long trip from here to our ranch, and I’m hoping to leave before noon.”
Seth hesitated as he thought of how battered Cal
lie was. “I might be waiting a day so my wife can rest up. Can you just get the order together? I’ll come by with my string of horses when we’re ready to leave.”
“Sounds good. A Rocky Mountain winter can slow a man down. Best to lay up supplies.”
Seth left only to come face-to-face with the parson. “Thanks for sending your wife over.”
The sidewalk was busy enough that they stepped off it to stand beside horses at the hitching post. Wagons drove past. Horseback riders plodded along the dusty streets. A cold wind whipped past them, and Seth drew the collar of his buckskin jacket up to protect his ears and wrapped his son inside his coat. The boy was dressed warmly, thanks to the hotel owner’s knowing wife.
“Your wife is a tough woman, Mr. Kincaid.”
“That she is, Parson Frew. That she is.” Seth smiled to think just how tough.
“I don’t know if, in the middle of all that went on yesterday, I thanked her.” The parson looked down at his boots as if it was hard for him to go on; then his head lifted and his eyes blazed. “I’m trying not to be ashamed of abandoning her. But whatever my actions, it doesn’t change the fact that she saved me, my wife, the men on that stage, and your boy here and herself. She’s a woman to be proud of.”
The letter Seth had gotten came from Texas, and he had a sudden flash of memory. Callie had grown up on the frontier. “They grow ’em tough in Texas.”
How had she ended up caring for a Union soldier in Georgia? Seth knew Andersonville was in Georgia, but maybe he’d met her somewhere else. He sure wished he remembered a little more about how he’d come to be a husband and father.
A smile spread on the parson’s face. “My wife, the most kindhearted, peace-loving and God-fearing woman I’ve ever known, asked me if I’d buy her a gun. She’s determined to help settle the West.”
Seth laughed. “You’ll have your hands full with her whether you say yes or no. Good luck to you, Parson.”
“I felt God call me to this place, Kincaid.” A somber expression replaced the parson’s smile. “But now I’m not so sure. I hate knowing that my wife especially could be in danger. I knew it was a wild land, but until the first man opens fire on you . . . well, I didn’t really understand just how dangerous. I’m not sure we’ll make it out here. I’m not a tough man with a gun, and my wife certainly isn’t a ball of fire like yours.”
“My brothers are both married. I wouldn’t say either of their wives are what you’d call tough.”
“There aren’t that many women out this way. I’m surprised to hear of a family with three women.”
A man strode by heading for the general store. The parson stepped sideways to let him pass.
“My brother Ethan married the widow of a man named Wendell Gilliland. Rafe got himself yoked to Gilliland’s daughter.”
The man stumbled and Seth’s hand shot out to keep him from falling.
“Thanks.” He gave Seth a look so sharp it earned Seth’s attention.
“Glad to help.”
With a nod, the man turned to the parson. “My wife and I enjoyed meeting you last night, Parson. We’re looking forward to you serving our town.”
The parson shook the man’s hand. “I remember you from last night, Henry. I was glad to see a good crowd.”
“Are you looking for a church, too?” Henry turned to Seth.
Seth didn’t want to give the man any information. “Doubt it. We live a long way out.”
“Well, I’ll get on. We’ll see you around, Parson.” Henry moved on toward the general store but not quite so quickly as he’d moved before.
Because being on edge was a good way to stay alive, Seth made note of the man. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him. Black hair and eyes, with white at the temples. A mouth that, just for a second, curled into cruelty. He was dressed like any other western man, in brown broadcloth shirt and pants. Still, Seth would recognize him later.
He waited until the man went on inside, then turned back to the parson. “So that one man, Gilliland, brought two of the women with him. My wife just rode out here, and I . . . Seth couldn’t make himself admit he’d run off from his wife. He hugged Connor with regret. Connor thanked him by slobbering on his shirt. “Callie and Connor have joined me now that I’ve got my cabin built.”
And now that they’ve tracked me down.
The parson clapped Seth on the back. “Good luck in your new life. I understand a Colorado winter in these mountains is a fearsome thing.”
Seth smiled. “I grew up with it. But I reckon Callie is in for a surprise. I’d better get back to her. You have my thanks right back for getting help for my wife and protecting my son. I’ve been riding out to meet the stage real regular. Callie’s letters weren’t clear on when she’d get here.”
“God bless you, Seth. Look me up if you’re ever in Colorado City again.”
The man who’d gone into the store stepped out with a bag of flour over his shoulder.
Seth wondered why a man bothered to walk all the way to the general store to buy just one thing. Of course if a body lived close, it was probably common enough.
With no interest in furthering his acquaintance with someone from Colorado City he’d never see again, Seth said to the parson, “I’ll head on back to my wife now and send yours home.”
Seth shifted his gaze to look the newcomer in the eye. Unarmed, dressed like a farmer, his eyes too sharp for an honest man. In one hard look, Seth hoped this man, whatever his business was with the parson, got the clear message that Seth Kincaid wasn’t to be taken lightly.
Seth jerked the brim of his hat, took in the lack of a gun, even noting the man wore no coat where one could be hidden, then turned and walked away. He had an itch between his shoulder blades, but common sense told Seth a stranger without a gun wasn’t about to shoot him in the back in the middle of a busy street.
He walked to the hotel, hoping his wife was up to heading out. Seth was eager to get shut of this town.
Jasper slammed the door and it drew Trixie’s full attention.
Bea, her name was Bea now. He’d thought he was getting used to calling her that, but right now it gnawed on his temper.
“What is it, Jasper?” She’d quit doing whatever she’d done to keep her hair a vivid red. It was now a mousy dull red streaked with gray. She still had a good figure, but it was concealed in modest gingham instead of being showcased in revealing silk. She’d left her garish face paint behind. And she was still a beautiful, appealing woman.
Jasper hadn’t been able to give up his name, so they’d compromised. He was Henry Jasper Duff, married to Beatrice, called Bea. He introduced himself as Henry Duff, but Bea at least still called him Jasper. If she hadn’t agreed to do that, Jasper felt as if he’d cease to exist.
And he was a farmer. Not even a prosperous one. They lived on the edge of town with a few rocky patches planted to a garden or kept as grazing for their three cows. But Bea had rat-holed enough money to let them have everything they wanted, as long as they didn’t want too much.
Jasper wanted a lot.
“I ran into one of those Kincaid brothers and heard him talking about the Gillilands. It burns bad that they’ve got all my money while we live in this shack.”
Bea set aside her embroidery hoop and rose, smoothing her skirt. Bea wasn’t a stupid woman.
“We talked about this.” There was no innocent confusion that would have given Jasper a chance to calm down. “You’re free to chase after that money for the rest of your life. Break whatever laws suit you and hurt anyone, man, woman or child, who gets in your way. Staying here has always been your choice. Except—”
“I know!” Jasper cut her off before she could give him the ultimatum again. “If I go, don’t come back.”
And Trixie—he shook his head—Bea. His wife had all the money.
“I know we live a good life. We’re happy.” Jasper was currently bitterly unhappy. “We gather eggs. We milk a cow.”
“I milk a cow. I gath
er eggs.” Bea gave him the soft look that reminded him of how hard she was. She chose to be decent. She chose to be honest. She’d turned her back on the saloon she owned and the women who worked abovestairs, just as Jasper had turned his back on his opium trade and a dozen other criminal enterprises he ran in Houston when Wendell Gilliland had stolen his money and left him owing the wrong people.
Jasper’s fingers itched to find his derringer and load it. Carry it in his sleeve like he used to. Demand respect like he used to.
“I’m just—” Jasper cut himself off. “It was just running into him like that. I could have grabbed him and shaken him until he told me where my money is.”
Except he couldn’t because one look told Jasper that Kincaid was a tough man and Jasper had been unarmed and defenseless—weak. “It burns to be a nobody in this one-horse town when I used to run a good share of the crime in Houston.”
Jasper raised his eyes to glare at his wife, his living, breathing, bossy wife.
“Are you trying to tell me you think that’s something to boast about? Running crime in Houston? Because it’s something to be ashamed of, Jasper, and you know it. You heard what the parson said.”
That reined Jasper in a bit. He had no business taking his temper out on her. “We’ve got a decent life here. I don’t want to go back to what I was before.”
Well, maybe just for a short time, until he got his money.
“Then give up on that money. It’s blood money, Jasper. It’s only yours in the most sinful sense of the word. Losing that money is going to save your life and if you’ll let it, your soul.”
He was married to a preachin’ woman for a fact. He took a few steps and it brought him all the way across the room. He’d owned a beautiful mansion in Houston. He wore silk shirts and smoked fine cigars. Now he lived in a house the size of his bedroom back home. He wore broadcloth that itched every time he moved. With a derisive laugh he admitted he didn’t want to smoke anyway.
There was a flash of fear in her eyes as he approached and it shamed him. “I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t even think it, Bea.”
He reached out and rested two hands on her strong shoulders. He drew her close, then closer. “I know you’re right. A man just has a bad moment now and again.” He kissed her and she was the only fine and silky thing he needed.
Mary Connealy - [Kincaid Brides 03] Page 4