by Carol Arens
“Killing me was only the beginning of his plan. He had intentions toward your sister that you would have ended up shooting him for, anyway, Bowie.” Cleve ran his hand through his hair and winced when he touched the knot.
Bowie nodded, the tick in his jaw pulsing like a heartbeat. “We’ll have to make sure Cabe’s granddaddy doesn’t find out about him.”
Bowie walked out onto the front porch and closed the door behind him. Silent, the five of them listened to his boots pounding the wood, back and forth.
Within a minute the door flung open and he came back inside.
“So, from what I can make of this mess,” Bowie announced, “Van Slyck came here meaning to make Leanna pay for stealing the girls from his territory. I reckon it was Cleve who shot him. A man’s got an obligation to protect his wife.”
“It’s true—he wasn’t happy about Miss Leanna reforming us.” Aggie folded both hands primly on her lap and nodded.
“Bowie.” Leanna stood on her toes to hug her brother. “I’m sorry I brought shame on the family. There just wasn’t any help for it.”
“You could have come to me.”
“You being the law, well, it muddies things. I couldn’t have you looking for Cabe’s family.”
“Ladies?” Cleve asked, leaning away from the fireplace. “Would you mind fetching the undertaker?”
“That most certainly would be our pleasure.” The three of them, still damp, but no longer dripping, hurried out of the house.
“Leanna, there’s more that you and your brother need to hear,” Cleve said.
“Oh, hell.” Bowie resumed his place on the couch.
Leanna slipped down beside him.
“Van Slyck made a confession, or part of one before…” Cleve inclined his head toward the kitchen.
“It’s what, or part of what, at least, we have been looking for. According to Preston, Willem is keeping two sets of books on the Cahill rents. Apparently, good, respectable Willem is trying to bankrupt the family. There was something else he wanted to say but he died before he finished gloating about it.
“I have a strong feeling it may have been about your parents but we’ll never know for certain. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not sorry, Cleve.” Leanna leaped up and rushed to him. She hugged his solid breathing chest tight and inhaled the scent of blood on his shirt. “Nothing he knew would be worth losing you.”
“It can’t stay hidden forever.” Bowie slapped his hands on his knees. “Someone knows something and I’ll find out what it is.”
“Cleve and I are here to help.”
“That, little sister, is what will leave me sleepless at night.”
Leanna stood in front of her bedroom mirror combing her hair before getting ready for bed. Cleve stood behind her watching, his eyes warming in a way that made her want to finish the task in a hurry.
The flame in the lamp on the dresser cast the room in soft amber shadows. Outside, the September night had grown cold and still. Stars frosted the sky beyond the window with shimmering ice.
It had been four days since Preston’s body had been carried from the kitchen. Enough time that she could tell Cleve about their coming baby without lingering gloom overshadowing the happy news.
“Make yourself useful and undo the buttons on the back of my gown.” She winked at him. “I swear, it feels tighter by the day.”
“I’m always here to lend a hand.” He flexed his fingers, then slipped the buttons free. He shimmied the bodice to her waist.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, caressing her shoulders with firm, warm thumbs. “We ought to move out of this house.”
“I agree. Whenever I go into the kitchen, I feel the echo of what happened.” She thought that the shocking vision of a dead man on her floor might fade but it played before her eyes like a ghost.
She shoved the gown over her petticoats. A lavender puddle pooled at her feet.
“When I bought Stretch, Mrs. Greenly mentioned that she is going to Austin. Her house is only a block away,” Cleve said. “Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her about renting to us, just until we can finish a couple of rooms of our ranch house.”
“How did we get so blessed, Cleve?”
“I reckon your Mama’s got a hand in it…Arden, too.”
A nightingale picked that very moment to twitter a tune on a willow branch outside the window.
“It’s late in the year for nightingales,” Cleve noted.
He watched in the mirror while she untied the ribbon of her chemise. His eyes turned a warmer shade of brown. They always did when she undressed.
Even though talk about the Cahill Curse was stronger than ever, what with lightning striking both the saloon and the jail, and with the banker’s son dying in her kitchen, Leanna knew that she was blessed.
“I want the ranch with all my heart.” She stripped off the rest of her underwear and stood before the mirror naked. “But Hearts for Harlots will always be my calling. I can’t give that up.”
“I don’t want you to.” Cleve stroked the thickening curve of her waistline. “The ladies can run the saloon for the most part. We’ll continue to help the women who want it.”
“What do you see when you look at me, Cleve?”
“I see my life.”
She took his hands and slid them from her waist to her belly.
“What else?”
“You look…” He skimmed both hands up her ribs, then flicked his thumbs over her nipples. “Darker?”
He stared down at her stomach, his ears turning pink with the beginning of a flush.
He slid both hands back to her belly. His fingers trembled.
“You look like you ate your dinner and mine, too.”
He took her by the shoulders and turned her gently around. He kissed her for a long, tender time.
“If the baby’s a boy I’d like to name him Chance,” she murmured against his grin.
“That might work for a girl, too.”
“You won’t think that after you’ve met my brother. I like Arden Elizabeth.”
“Will Chance be any easier on me than Bowie was at first?”
“Maybe not, you did steal away his baby sister.”
“I didn’t steal you, I won you. Not fair and square, I’ll admit, but here we are.” Cleve cupped her face in his firm, warm fingers. “And here we’ll be, playing out our lives with a full house.”
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459219533
Copyright © 2012 by Carol Arens
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