by Jillian Hart
What if there was a way? That question kept chasing him. He knew there was no way, but the wish haunted his dreams. It whispered to him when he’d opened his eyes first thing this morning and it shouted at him now. His entire being ached for it, his soul longed for it.
“We have dozens of Christmas orders.” Caroline’s skirts swished around her slim ankles as she waltzed closer. How did she become more beautiful with every passing day? She filled his senses—musical alto, red calico, vibrant loveliness. “It will be a busy day of baking.”
“And I’ll be busy working on your fix-it list.” Not a bad list, considering the old rental had seen better days. The closeness of last night lingered, the texture of her lips, the taste of her kiss and the sensation of being lost to her for those close, intimate moments. He wanted more. He wanted her for his wife. “I can pick Thomas up after school, too.”
“He would like that. Here he comes.” Unmistakable pride filled her as she bent to tuck his scarf more securely around his chin and to tug down the brim of his knit cap.
He loved her more for it. He would love this woman for the rest of his days, infinitely and forever. It wasn’t easy parting from her, but they would be together tonight. He already looked forward to the evening ahead. Going about the chores with her. Talking over Thomas’s day at school. Settling down to whittle another horse out of a spare scrap of lumber. That was what he wanted, as impossible as it was. His most cherished Christmas wish.
“Goodbye, Bingo.” Thomas handed over his toy with great reluctance, for no toys were allowed at school. “Aunt Caroline will take good care of you.”
“I’ll make sure he’s warm and safe while you’re gone.” Satisfied the child was well wrapped against the bitter cold, she let him go. “He’ll take a long nap and be rested up and ready to gallop when school is over.”
The bell jangled over the door, announcing another customer. He didn’t pay it any heed. He held out his hand to Thomas, waiting for the boy. “If you did S words in school yesterday, will you do T words today?”
“M-maybe.” A single stutter.
“Then let’s think of a few T words on the way. I got one. Want to hear it?” He heard the outside door swing open. Boots knelled on the floor, accompanied by the metal jingle of spurs. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, a warning sign he ignored. “Turnip.”
“Thomas.”
“Terrific.” He cherished the moment when his son’s mittened hand crept into his, so small, so precious.
“McGraw? Is that really you?” A strange tenor shattered the moment. Boots and spurs came to a stop behind him.
Caleb blinked, spun around and stared at the newcomer. The stranger wore a marshal’s black shirt and silver badge. Strange, he didn’t know the man but something familiar sparked at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t put his finger on.
“I can’t believe my eyes. It sure is you,” the marshal drawled.
The drawl triggered a memory, flashing him back to seven years ago when he’d been sentenced for rape. The ring of spurs, the chime of the cell door key and the cold sour taste of fear on his tongue. Recognition rocked through him. Marshal Douglass had taken him from Blue Grass’s small jail cell following his brief trial to the territorial prison. He stared, too stunned to move, overwhelmed as panic surged through him like a flashflood.
“I’ll be. I’m just flummoxed.” The marshal planted his beefy fists on his hips. “After what you did to that woman, what are you doing out of jail?”
Not like this. Caleb withered. Not in front of Thomas. And Caroline— He squeezed his eyes shut for one brief second. The shock was too much. It shot through his veins like ice water, washing away all he’d gained here and everything he had.
It’s over. All of it. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. Thomas gazed from one face to another, confused. Caroline stared at him, mouth open in a surprised O, hurt stark on her face. Silence reigned, settling in around him.
He should have known this would happen. It was inevitable. He’d feared it all along. He felt like a lowlife, like scum on a pond. Humiliated in front of the people he loved.
“Answer me.” The marshal’s tenor thundered with authority and a hint of menace.
“I was released early for good behavior.” The words tumbled out, numb and disconnected. The only thing that mattered was the hurt leaving Caroline’s face and the horror settling in. She was going to hate him. She would never believe the truth. He felt his last hope die as his dreams crashed to the ground.
Chapter Eight
She couldn’t hear anything over the rush in her ears. Caleb had been in jail? For rape? She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t believe it. But part of her must have already accepted. Fear quaked through her in fine, trembling shakes until her teeth rattled.
Caleb was a violent ex-convict. Her Caleb. No, she shook her head, still struggling to deny it.
“Released?” The marshal bellowed, jaw set, fury dark on his harsh round face. “How can that be? Why don’t I check on that to make sure it’s true? I expect you to come with me quietly, unless you want to make it an official arrest in front of these nice people?”
“No, I’ll come quietly.” A muscle jumped along Caleb’s square jaw, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t meet her gaze. He gently let go of Thomas’s hand. “You go with your aunt.”
Tears pooled in the boy’s eyes but did not fall. He was frightened by the strange man and confused by the change of plans. She marched forward to sweep Thomas away, holding him tight. So tight.
“You’re lucky I came along, ma’am.” The somber truth in the marshal’s dark gaze struck her. It was the force that shredded the last bit of her denial. He laid a hand on his holstered .45. “I came in for some breakfast. You wouldn’t be able to make my meal to go?”
“I’ll see to it, Marshal.” Selma bustled into sight. “I’ll bring it over myself. I’m supposing that’s why you’re in town, since I don’t know your face. Come to take away the wanted man in our jail?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’d appreciate a cup of coffee, too. Thank you, kindly.” The marshal tipped his hat. “C’mon, McGraw. Let’s go.”
Caleb’s gaze found hers. He stood tall and strong, invincible the way any good man should be. Shadows darkened his eyes and a poignant plea shone there, one she could sense as clearly as if he’d said the words aloud. Forgive me.
He wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t discounting the marshal’s claim. Her knees buckled as she watched him walk away with his shoulders wide and back straight, as if only pride held him up. He’d as good as lied to her. She’d trusted him. She’d believed in him.
She’d loved him.
Pain cracked through her, the first sign of her heart rending. Sharp, tiny shards broke apart within her, slicing through flesh and bone as they fell.
“Maybe it isn’t true.” Not even Selma seemed to believe it as she patted Caroline’s shoulder. “Get Thomas to school. Take some time for yourself. Come back when you’re ready.”
“But it’s one of your busiest days.” Her gaze tracked the tall, dark-haired man and the stern marshal along the length of the front window. Sunshine gleamed so brightly off the white glittering snow, her eyes burned. Her throat closed. She felt as if she were dying.
“Aunt Caroline? Why did Mr. McGraw hafta go with that man?” Fear raised Thomas’s voice several notes.
“It will be all right.” She kissed his apple cheek. She had to wrestle down her agony. Right now, she had to think about her boy. “Come, we don’t want you to be marked tardy.”
“Tardy. That’s a T word.” Thomas’s shoes pattered across the floor.
She felt the attention of the customers as she took her coat from Selma. “Table.”
“Train.”
Traitor. He’d betrayed her. He’d made her think he was a wonderful man, that she was safe with him. That Thomas would be safe with him. She yanked open the door. Icy wind wrapped around her, but it wasn’t the reason
why she felt chilled to the marrow. Across the street, Caleb snared her attention. His gait was slow and steady and his large frame braced as he entered the marshal’s office.
He was an ex-convict, just released from prison. That was the reason he’d left Alma. That was the reason he didn’t know Thomas. Devastation crashed through her. She felt her heart break piece by piece.
“Why is Mr. McGraw going with that man? Is he in trouble?” Little fingers tightened around her own.
“I’m sure it will be fine.” She tucked down her feelings, ignored the jagged pieces of her decimated heart and put all the reassurance she could into her voice. “Trouble is a T word. Can you think of another?”
“It’s right here.” Marshal Douglass moseyed through the doorway, telegram in hand. “Word from the head of the prison himself assuring me you are a free man. Guess you weren’t an escapee after all.”
“Which is what I told you.” Bitterness burned like acid on Caleb’s tongue. It was an old anger and a pointless one.
“Can’t blame me, though. Once a bad seed, always a bad seed.” The marshal crumpled up the telegram and tossed it into the garbage basket.
He could not change the past. He could never escape it. He shoved out of the chair, unsteady on his feet. He would always be looked at twice. What had he been thinking letting himself dream otherwise?
Time to stop listening to his heart. Caroline hated him. Now that word was out, the town’s lawmen would likely run him out. He drew in a steadying breath and set his spine, determined to walk out of here like the free man he was.
“That’s enough, Douglass.” Mac McKaslin stood up from behind his desk. “The last train east comes by in twenty minutes. Chain up your prisoner and get on your way. I want you out of my office for good. McGraw, you’re free to go.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time. He grabbed his coat and hat from the wall hooks.
“Your reward money should be here sometime tomorrow.” Mac handed over Caleb’s confiscated Colt .45.
“I’ll be in to get it.” He slid the handgun into its holster, unable to meet the marshal’s eyes. Disgrace hung over him like a cloud as he shoved open the door. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone he came across on the boardwalk.
The small mountain town bustled on the last few days before Christmas. Shops were busy but he kept on walking. No point in putting off what had to be done.
The late-afternoon sun slanted low over the treetops, casting long shadows before him as he walked out of town. Those shadows lengthened, a harbinger of what was to come. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he trudged down the fifth driveway and the snow-bound cabin came into sight. Thomas’s snowman stood sentry near the front porch, but the boy wasn’t out playing. Not today. No, Caroline would keep the boy safely tucked inside.
Away from him. He swallowed hard, gathered his courage and climbed the porch steps. He didn’t dare hope she would understand. That she would look at him and see the truth, see the good inside him and welcome him back into her arms. No, not a chance of that. He wasn’t surprised as the door swung open before he could knock.
“Caleb.” She blocked the doorway with her slender body, chin up, ice-blue eyes fierce. The ruffled white apron she wore told him she’d been fixing supper. “You are to take your things and go.”
“I would like to talk about what happened today.” He let down his guard. Let her see his sincerity, the integrity of the man he was and would always be. “Can I please explain?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Distrust pursed her soft, lovely mouth that had kissed him with great tenderness. The memory slammed through him, mocking him, as if to cruelly remind him of what he’d lost. She slung a thick shawl over her shoulders, shoved his saddlebags at him and slipped onto the snowy porch, closing the door tightly behind her.
Protecting Thomas from him. The realization knifed him to the core. Couldn’t she see that he would give his life to keep his son safe? That nothing would ever diminish his true love for her? He slung the pack over one arm. It was heavy with his belongings.
“You won’t be staying here tonight. You won’t be returning here. You will forget you ever met us.” She wrapped the ends of the knit shawl around her like armor. She radiated pure strength and power. An awesome sight.
He loved her more for it. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat and hoped his voice didn’t break. “I understand you’re frightened. You don’t need to be.”
“You hid the truth from me. You had to be perfectly aware that had I known what you were, I never would have let you set foot in my home.” Tears gleamed in her eyes. Hurt twisted her sweet face, a world of hurt.
He’d done that to her. He hadn’t meant to and there was no way for him to fix it. “I’m sorry.” It was all he could offer her. “Truly, deeply sorry.”
“You should be.” She blinked hard. “You have to go, Caleb.”
“Can’t I tell my side of the story?”
“No.” She had to let him go. She lifted her chin another notch, struggling to do what was right. Those kisses in front of the fire, her love for him, it all had to be forgotten. “Goodbye.”
“But—”
“Goodbye.” Regret, remorse, despair ripped her apart as she grappled for the doorknob. The knob rattled when her fingers found it and she gave it a turn. Just do it, she told herself. Do what has to be done.
Why did she linger? Why didn’t her feet move? Her gaze found his one last time. Deep blue brilliance, the sheen of honesty so starkly real she couldn’t reconcile the man with Caleb McGraw, ex-convict and rapist. She thought of the thin bedroom door that had separated her from him at night and shivered. Why hadn’t she felt afraid? Why hadn’t she felt even a hint of a clue about his secret?
Tears stung her eyes and knotted in her throat. She gave the door a push, stumbled through the doorway and turned her back on him. It had to be done. He was a dangerous and violent man.
Agony tore through her as she threw the bolt. Misery cinched up her ribs, making it impossible to breathe. She’d done the right thing, so why did it hurt so much? She rubbed the heel of her hand over her heart, surprised by the agony buried there, refusing to budge.
She waited for the sound of Caleb’s boots on the steps. Slow. Reluctant. Sad. The ring of his gait pulled at her because she’d wanted this outcome to be different. She wanted him to be different—to be the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d known nothing true about him at all.
She shrugged out of her shawl, hung it on its peg and sighed out agony. It was over. There was nothing to do but go on from here.
Cold snow fell from an inky-black sky as Caleb dismounted in front of the town’s livery stable and led his horse by the reins through the wide double doors. Once inside he swept off his battered, wide-brimmed hat. A symphony of icy snow tapped on the wall as he headed down the main aisle.
“Is that you, McGraw?” The owner, Austin Dermot, stuck his head out of his office. Surely he’d heard the rumors that had to be going around town, but he made no show of it. “Are you sure you want to bed down with your mustang? It’s awful cold out there and the temperature is falling.”
“I’ll be all right.” A stall thick with straw and hay was far better accommodations than he’d had for seven years. “I’ve got my bedroll. I’ll be fine.”
“If you need more blankets, help yourself. There are horse blankets in the tackroom and a couple quilts in my office.” Austin shrugged into a thick wool coat. “I’m heading home. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, but thank you.” He cross-tied his horse in the aisle and bent to unbuckle the saddle cinch. Dermot’s footsteps faded away. The front doors creaked shut and the cold air whipping down the aisle ceased. A couple of horses nosed over their gates to nicker at him curiously as he stowed the saddle, brushed down Ghost and led him to their assigned stall.
While the mustang crunched on oats, Caleb rolled up in his blankets and dug out the package of be
ef jerky buried in his packs. Loneliness had never hurt like this. He missed Caroline. He missed Thomas.
Caleb, you knew better. This hurting is your fault. He tore off a chunk of cured meat and popped it in his mouth. A man’s past always caught up with him. Once branded, always branded. There was no escape.
Caroline. He grimaced, wretched over the way she’d looked at him. She despised him. As wonderful and renewing as her gazes of love had been, they were gone.
Never again would she peer up at him with affection and respect. Light had vanished from his world. She would never be his wife welcoming him home from work. Thomas would not come running eager to tell of his school day. There would be no cozy family suppers, no evenings spent whittling and chatting by the fire, no Christmas mornings watching Thomas open his presents.
Caleb bowed his head. Hopelessness blinded him. He was nothing without them.
Chapter Nine
“Whew, I think that’s it. What a morning!” Selma turned the sign from Open to Closed. Her apron fluttered as she strained to get a good look out the bakery’s front window. “A storm is blowing in. That means snow for Christmas Eve.”
“Thomas will be thrilled.” Caroline swiped a sudsy cloth along the worktable and tried not to think about Caleb. She shouldn’t care where he was and if he was warm and safe.
“I suppose you can’t wait for Christmas morning to come around. Those horses and that wonderful barn you made out of fabric and quilt batting.” Selma had watched her progress over the earlier month or so during Caroline’s lunch breaks. “He is going to love them.”
“I hope so.” Affection warmed her as she wrung out the dishcloth, soap bubbles popping. She couldn’t wait to see Thomas unwrap her gifts. Bingo would finally have friends and a home. “First things first. We are definitely coming over to your party tonight, storm or not. I’m bringing buttermilk dinner rolls—no, don’t you even think about arguing. After baking all morning here, you don’t need to do it tonight. You have enough to do.”