The group started off the platform. Like a prize carried home by a colony of ants, Hunter was moved along by clinging wife and children, sister and father.
He found Jacy’s eyes over the crowd. “Trevor’s really alive?”
“Yes.” I hope. “I’ll tell you about it when we get to the house.”
Hunter looked unconvinced. “Where the hell is he? I’d like to hear it from him.”
Jacy’s eyes darted to Drummond. They hadn’t mentioned Trevor since she returned. She tried to warn Hunter with raised brows, but he either didn’t understand or was having none of it. Of the two of them, he had always been the more emphatic about his relationship with Hunter. If Drummond didn’t like it, too damned bad.
“Tell him to come to the house, Jacy.”
“Papa wouldn’t like it,” Jacy mouthed.
“To hell with him,” Hunter returned quietly. Then, in a voice loud enough for Drummond to hear, “See if you can find Trev, Jacy. Bring him by the house.”
Drummond’s eyes narrowed on Hunter. “The worthless bastard’s dead. Constable Selman himself came and told us.”
Hunter lifted his brows. “Sorry to hear that, Pa, since Trevor Fallon is still the closest friend I’ve ever had. What we went through, he’s more like a brother. I’d hoped we could put our minds together and figure out just who in hell sent us to prison to hang. And why.”
“Those questions will never be answered,” Drummond barked. “You’re pardoned, now, but we don’t have a ranch. We’ll have to start over, once you get your bearings.”
“Speaking of bearings,” Jacy said with a smile. “We have a surprise or two up at the house, then after supper you and Mari are having a night on the town.”
When Hunter’s gaze found Mari’s, Jacy’s heart skittered at the love and desire that passed between them.
Was that the love Mari saw between Jacy and Trevor? Jacy felt it in her heart. Would Trevor ever feel it, too?
“Guess I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to see ol’ Trev. Tell him for me, Jacy.”
Thirteen
Being dead had its advantages. For one thing, Trevor could wander down to the depot and watch Hunter come in without too much fear of discovery. Everyone thought he was dead.
Of course he wore the sombrero and serape he had worn to Arizona and back. Hidden among the shadows of an exterior staircase across the street from the arriving eastbound trains, he waited impatiently for over an hour.
He watched the family approach, saw Jacy and Mari, Jacy and Drummond, Jacy and the children. Exhausted from the journey, his mind wandered as he watched. His dream reappeared.
But it was mostly a new dream now that he had held Jacy and loved her. A new and desperate dream, of holding her for all time, of loving her every day and every night, of Jacy and the children.
His children. Not her niece and nephews, but her own children. Their children, his and hers.
When he shoved a strand of hair under the too-large sombrero, his hand swept the scar. The brand. He heard again Jacy’s sweet voice saying she believed in him.
His dream, but not entirely. She hadn’t said she believed in him, but she wanted to. He would never forget the feel of her lips on the scar. Her tender kiss.
But that was all he was likely to have anytime soon. The last few days had given him time to think, to put together things they learned in Arizona with the little he already knew. Namely, that he did not murder Ana Bowdrie. Nor had he received any but the first letter from her.
That confounded him. Why so many letters? To seal the case against him, obviously. But why?
The case against Hunter had been purely political, that much was established by his quick release. But what about himself? For whom had he really taken the fall? And why?
Only one thing was obvious to Trevor—Drummond Kimble knew the answers. And they must be frightening.
The idea that Drummond might have murdered Ana had nagged at Trevor for some time now. The motives were endless, beginning with the fact that Ana was carrying on with Tom Guest.
Regardless of how much Jacy wanted to believe otherwise, Tom Guest had been out to best Drummond Kimble at every turn. Moving into the ranch, changing every stick of furniture, even the name. And keeping it all a secret from Drummond. It still made little sense.
Then there was the rumor that Drummond intended to dump Ana for political reasons. A mistress would be a liability with the conservative family men whose votes Drummond would need to win an election. Their wives would see to that.
And Drummond certainly had the perfect scapegoat in Trevor. The animosity was already there. Drummond would lose no sleep over throwing Trevor to the wolves.
But Drummond had lost sleep over something. Hunter. When one considered Hunter, every motive fell apart. Drummond would not have allowed his son to be convicted and sentenced to hang for a crime he committed himself.
Even there, however, Trevor’s doubts persisted. Drummond’s steadfast claim that Hunter would never hang had from the moment he heard it, convinced Trevor that Drummond had bought Hunter’s life at a high cost.
The old man’s own mind, to hear Jacy tell it. If all or any of the above were true, Drummond Kimble had been carrying around a heavy burden, a just and good cause to lose his mind.
But in the final analysis, everything was a supposition, nothing was fact. Certainly Trevor had no proof. Before he drew any more conclusions, he would talk to Hunter, compare notes for the first time since the murder. And if the conclusions still seemed the same, Trevor’s road was mapped, clear and simple.
Being dead had its disadvantages. As hard as it had been for Trevor to keep from approaching Jacy, when Hunter stepped off that train, he was even more hard pressed to bide his time. Tears welled in his eyes. His heart beat heavily in anticipation. It struck him that the friendship he shared with this man had been strengthened by their separation, until now it was, rather, a kinship. He couldn’t have felt more powerful emotions if he had been watching the return of a blood brother. He and Hunter had gone through hell and back, together, even in their separation.
An insidious longing tugged at Trevor when he watched Hunter and Mari embrace. They held each other as if they would never let go, gazed into each other’s eyes like they were the only two people in the world.
Then came the children. Eager, clamoring, hungering for a father. And Trevor hungered, too. For something he had never had. The very thing he had sworn never to want.
Then came Jace. He watched her lead her father with loving steps to greet his son. He watched her greet her brother. Trevor knew how much this meant to her, having her family together again. As much as it ever could be, her life had been restored.
Knowing this, witnessing it, he came to a heartrending decision. Past one meeting with Hunter, he would not pursue the truth. Unless Hunter had another lead, the one that beckoned Trevor would tear Jacy’s family apart again.
He couldn’t do that to her. Twice.
The third time Mama Dee exclaimed, “My poor Hunter,” Hunter put a stop to it.
“That’s all over and behind us. I’m home now. Tomorrow Trevor and I will put our heads together and try to come up with some answers. Tonight is for family, happiness. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the future. Tonight we’re together.”
He paid no attention to the old stage station, which fairly burst at its adobe seams. Even the loss of the Diamond K seemed not to matter at the moment.
He held Mari so close to his side Jacy felt their joy. The children hovered around, touching, always touching.
When Mama Dee enlisted Tía Bella to serve the laughing talking hugging kissing Kimbles at the scarred old table, not even Jacy wished for more luxurious surroundings.
Drummond’s spirits improved dramatically. More than once Jacy caught him beaming at Hunter. Hunter put everyone at ease by asking not to discuss the last five years, nor even the last few days, until they had a chance to just be together. Tonight was to be spent enjoying each oth
er.
Selfless as always, Mari pushed her children forward, her eyes aglow with having Hunter home. Jacy recalled how they had cried in each other’s arms only days before. How Mari professed that no hardship would ever seem too great with Hunter home again.
Jacy knew how she felt. Watching the family, her enormous happiness was split apart by a shaft of anxiety.
She knew the source. Trevor. Where was he? Even through her joy, she worried about him.
The fourth time little Carter told his Papa about Grandpa’s alligators, and the third time Todd named every gunfighter in El Paso, Jacy took over.
“Off with you, now,” she told Mari and Hunter.
Mari blushed through her glow. Hunter grinned broadly and hugged his sister. “Don’t know how,” he whispered in her ear, “but I’ll find some way to thank you. Be sure to tell Trev to come see me tomorrow.”
Jacy recalled the last time Drummond and Trevor were together. Drummond’s vulgarity, his suspicions that made wonderful things sound dirty. She didn’t want Hunter to hear that. She didn’t want to hear it again herself. Mostly, she didn’t want to put Trevor through the ordeal again. “Papa won’t like it. Maybe—”
“When did you start being scared of Pa?” Hunter turned serious. “The warden filled me in on a lot of things before he turned me loose. It was his idea to set Trevor free, to save my bacon. Now we have to find out who’s behind it.”
Jacy’s heart had stopped listening when Hunter said the warden set Trevor free. Of course she knew Trevor had been telling the truth. Yet, it was good to hear confirmation. She prayed she would not always need confirmation. Surely she could learn to trust him as much as she loved him.
“They can meet at the mission,” Mari suggested. “I hoped we could all attend Mass to celebrate Hunter’s release. Trevor could wait for us in that little room.”
Jacy had trouble suppressing a shout of joy. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mari. I’ll tell him. Somehow.” If she saw him. If he had even arrived in El Paso. She had been unaware that Drummond was listening to the exchange until he vented his usual rebuke.
“That worthless scum. If I’d known he was still alive I would’ve told Selman when he came lookin’.”
“If you had, Hunter wouldn’t be here now, Papa.”
“We’d’ve got Hunter out somehow.”
“How?” she demanded. “You were the one who said it couldn’t be done. You were the one who—”
“Never mind,” Hunter interrupted. “I’m home. You know how I feel about Trevor, Pa. He’s my friend, always has been. He didn’t murder Ana anymore than I did. And he didn’t murder that guard. The warden has already solved that one. The who, not the why.”
“Who?” Jacy asked.
“Some loafer from across the line in California. All he took were Yancy’s boots. Hell of a way to get new boots.”
His eyes found Jacy’s. “Our next piece of business is to clear Trevor’s name.” When tears brimmed in her eyes, he added, “We’ll do it, Jacy. I promise. If you could get me out of that hellhole, we can damn sure find the madman who murdered Ana and pinned it on us.”
“Enough,” she whispered, kissing Mari lightly on the cheek. “You two run along. We’ll meet you at the mission in the morning.”
To Jacy’s relief, Drummond didn’t rant about Trevor after Hunter and Mari left. Thank goodness, she thought, for she was in no mood for his surliness. He had seemed so much better tonight, she had hopes of him recovering. If only she could persuade him that Trevor wasn’t worthless…or a murderer.
Time, she thought. It will all take time. First his mind must have a chance to stabilize. In his right mind Papa would be reasonable. She knew it.
In the meanwhile, however, she had a more pressing concern. Trevor. Had he made it back to town? Wes Hardin hadn’t known earlier when they met Hunter’s train. Jacy knew only one other way to find him.
Trevor tried to stay away from the hillside that night, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt Jacy unduly, yet wouldn’t trying to see her hurt her, too? Which outcome would hurt her more in the long run was a toss-up.
He told himself it was the only way he could arrange to see Hunter. He told himself it was the only chance he would have to bring her the basket of her things from the cabin.
He told himself she didn’t matter to him as much as she did, that he didn’t matter to her all that much, either.
Hell, Miss Fancy Pants could find another beau. One more suited to her lifestyle than him. But none of the old variables held true. None of the arguments held water.
He told himself a lot of things that night, but they were all lies. When he saw Jacy climb the hillside, he knew it. He was hardpressed to wait for her to come to him.
But he waited, savoring every moonlit facet of her—the way stars seemed to alight in her hair which bounced about her shoulders, the lilt in her walk that told of her expectations, the way she tossed that flaxen-haired mane, forevermore like the Jace of old, the sway of her hips beneath the proper blue dress she had worn to the depot earlier today.
He wondered whether she would ever wear pants again. Those fancy pants that flaunted her femininity and teased every red-blooded male within eyesight. He wondered who would be there to see if she did.
It would not be him. The thought of leaving her, now that she had come to mean so much to him, was more heart-wrenching than anything had ever been in his life. More than when he was sent to prison, condemned to hang; more than when his mother died. For Jacy Kimble had done something more positive to his sorry, worthless soul than he had ever dreamed possible.
She taught him how to love. And in the final analysis that proved a double-edged sword. For he learned to love her, and loving her, he had no choice but to leave her.
Loving her as he did, he could not tear her world apart one more time. She had been through hell these past five years, and she had come out a new and strengthened person, a woman who had earned the right to happiness.
If what Trevor feared was true, Jacy would sooner hate him than love him. But at this moment, hatred was the farthest thing from her mind. And from his.
He watched her search the darkness. For him.
Unable to resist, he raised a hand, beckoned, and she came, grinning all the way.
“I was so afraid for you, Trevor. I—” She fell into his arms, knocking him back against the hard rock hill. Before she could say more, his lips found hers, covered hers. The kiss took his breath away. Her Jacy-soft lips, her heat, her wetness, her bold, uninhibited passion.
Regret swamped him. Regret for all the missed opportunities, the lost moments that could never be reclaimed. The future that could never be realized.
But this was no time for regret. He kissed her fiercely, as though it were the last time; tenderly, as though to keep her forever. He delved and probed, exciting, inciting, savoring each touch, each taste.
The strength of his love, once admitted, overwhelmed him. He threaded his fingers through her hair and relived his dream, the silkiness, the sexiness. He was on fire for her. That old fire-in-the-belly want blazed hotter than ever.
At length, he drew them apart, cradled her across his legs, and held her against his chest. When his breathing steadied, he asked, “How is he?”
“Wonderful. We didn’t talk about prison, he didn’t want to. Not even about how he got out or who killed Ana or any of that, except to be assured you are really alive. It was the first thing he asked.”
Her heart throbbed in her throat. She buried her face in his neck and felt a matching throb, mating throb. She suddenly sat up. “Oh, yes.” Pausing, she grinned in his face. “The warden told Hunter that he set you free so you could save Hunter’s life.”
If she had expected a shout of joy, or a smile, she would have been disappointed. “Damnation, Jace. Where will this all end?”
“And the warden has tracked down Yancy’s killer.” At this he perked up.
“Some loafer from across the border in
California. Hunter says Yancy was murdered for his boots.”
“Son of a bitch.” Trevor clamped her head to him with a firm palm and held her there for lengthy moments. Finally, he roused her.
“Jace,” he mumbled into her hair. She lifted her face, found his eyes. He knew he’d better get hold of things before he was lost in her.
“You’re missing the stars,” he said. “Turn around. Look.”
“I’d rather look at you,” she replied without hesitation, her voice sultry and serious and full of something he dared not recognize. “Hunter’s home,” she continued eagerly. “Next we’ll clear you, then we can get on with our lives.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her. So he kissed her instead. And when they stopped to draw tremulous breaths, he asked again about Hunter.
“Mari was so happy, Trevor. Giddy, like a kid.” She stroked his cheek in the moonlight. “Like I feel. All day I’ve been so afraid. I mean, I knew you would make it back. But anything can happen.”
He grunted, grinning, bewitched by her. What a woman she had become! Instead of breaking her, five years of hardship had strengthened and shaped her into…“When can I see that ol’ cow-poke?”
“In the morning.” She told him about the room she engaged for Hunter and Mari at the Grand Central Hotel.
“Right considerate of you, Jace.” He wondered whether she would have thought of it before their night in the mountains.
“It’s what I would want.” She kissed him, and he tried not to think about that night in the mountains or even about the last time he and Jacy were in a room with a bed to themselves. Dang. They should have made better use of it.
“We’re all going to Mass with Hunter and Mari in the morning,” she told him. “Hunter said he’ll meet you in that room where we waited.”
“Great.” And it was. Eagerness to see his friend threatened to tumble the wall Trevor had erected around his emotions.
“We’ll meet you right after the early service.”
For a long time he just looked at her. “Me and Hunter, Jace. Okay?”
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