“And you knew Pa was dead, the will and such?”
Kevin gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “Considering I’d known pa was dead for most of those twenty years, and I’d just found out he was dead again, seeing you and not being all that sure he was dead was an easy thing to have flicker through my mind.”
“Makes sense.”
“Is your head still sore? Is it worse? You’ve been moving and acting like you’re feeling fine. Except for losing your memory—”
“Yeah,” Falcon interrupted, “except for that.”
Kevin smirked. “Anyhow, I thought you were pretty well off. But you look like you’re hurting bad.”
Falcon didn’t like talking about how weak he felt when he was hunting inside his head. A man needed to hide if he was weak. The weak were prey. Supper. Animals and people were both dangerous. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen arguing?”
“I reckon. But I can’t add much to it, and they’re yelling just fine without my help.” Kevin reached a hand down to Falcon, who, after thinkin’ it over a bit, took the hand and let Kevin haul him to his feet.
It was a good strong yank. Falcon was eye to eye with his brother. Their eyes matched. They both had a little dip in the center of their chins. Beyond that, they didn’t look much alike. Falcon was an inch or so taller than Kevin. Probably broader. They both had brown hair, but Falcon’s was darker, straighter.
“When you went missing—” Kevin swallowed hard—“when we thought you were dead, it made me sad to think a brother I never knew was a brother I never would know.”
Kevin clapped him on the shoulder, and it was a gentle slap. He was acting like Falcon was fragile. Prey. Though Kevin didn’t seem to be hunting.
Falcon met his gaze. “A brother. And you have a little sister and brother. I-I don’t think I had anyone else. Except, I think . . . a wife.”
“A wife?” Kevin’s brows arched.
“I had a flash of memory. Patsy. I can see her face and a cabin. We were married, I think. Were or are married.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
“I remember I had a mule named Harvey, and I remembered a man’s voice—you, I guess—sayin’, ‘Pa, is that you?’”
“Yes, you came out here on the train and arrived the same morning I came riding in with my family. And you heard what Tuttle said about Independence. So you had a run-in with him back there.”
“And then I went missing later that day I got off the train?”
“Yep.”
“Did I say anything else?”
Kevin thought a second. “When I said, ‘Pa, is that you?’ you said, ‘Ain’t no one’s pa, mister.’”
Falcon straightened. “I said that?”
“Yep.”
“So I didn’t abandon my children?”
That struck Kevin into a dead quiet. It was all there in his eyes how their pa had abandoned them. Falcon didn’t want to be that kind of man.
“Have you been worrying that you might’ve done that?” Kevin asked.
Falcon shrugged, but he was feeling better. The pain lessening in his head and his heart. “I thought of Patsy’s name when I was—” He snapped his mouth shut. He must’ve taken another beating on his head to’ve almost blurted that out.
“What happened?”
Falcon didn’t know what he must look like, but it had to be tellin’ Kevin something. And suddenly Falcon was glad he had a brother. Maybe talking to a brother would help him a little.
He looked at the door to the hallway, which led to the kitchen. Plenty of squabbling in there still. Dropping his voice, he said, “I thought of Patsy’s name, said it out loud, when I-I—” he cleared his throat ’cuz it was clogging shut—“when I had my arms around . . . Cheyenne.”
Kevin staggered back, caught himself, his eyes as round as twenty-dollar gold pieces. “You and Cheyenne?” Whispering didn’t hide the shock.
Falcon nodded, afraid she’d somehow heard and would come charging into the room, looking to pound on him worse than the rocks in that stream had. He’d already lost his whole past. What else did he have to lose?
His life.
“And called out another woman’s name after?”
Honestly, it was more during, but Falcon didn’t see any reason to mention that. Bad enough he’d thought of another woman, but to have said her name out loud . . . And now Kevin saying it out loud, it all made him feel even worse. Which surprised him because he wouldn’t’ve believed he could feel much worse.
“And you’re still alive?”
Falcon was alive. He was sitting right there. And still . . . “I’m a little surprised myself.”
They heard a commotion in the kitchen.
“If you repeat this,” Falcon growled, “you’re the next one going headfirst over a waterfall.”
Kevin held up one hand, palm flat at shoulder level. “I swear I’ll never mention it.”
“Not even to your wife?”
Footsteps came from the hall and Kevin turned. Without, Falcon noticed, promising a thing. But Falcon had to clamp his mouth shut ’cuz someone was coming.
NINETEEN
I want to have one more look for the deeds. I was wondering if Grandpa might’ve stuck them inside a book. Maybe he had a thought to hiding them.” Cheyenne turned to leave the kitchen.
“Or maybe Pa did take them out of the drawer and hide them.”
Cheyenne glanced at Wyatt. “Why would he do that?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Like Falcon said, he’s just the only low-down coyote who spent time in the house.”
She looked around the kitchen. “Where is Falcon?”
“He might’ve gotten tired of listening to us squabble.” Wyatt shrugged and came after her as she headed for the study.
“Does he have a safe somewhere?” Win asked, following. “My pa has one.”
“It’s time to eat in just a few minutes,” Molly protested. “Your grandpa didn’t stick valuable papers between the pages of a book.”
Cheyenne looked over her shoulder at the hardworking young woman. For some reason, Molly bothered Cheyenne. Annoyed might be a better word.
She wasn’t sure why, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was because Molly was acting like a woman ought, and Cheyenne did no such thing. If that was so, then Cheyenne oughta be ashamed of herself. And she would be, just as soon as she had any spare time.
Cheyenne knew womanly skills. She could knit like nobody’s business, and she enjoyed it. There were blankets and doilies and what-not scattered all over this house. It helped untangle her thoughts. She oughta be knitting right now, but lately all her knitting had gotten tight. The last thing she tried to knit had ended up a hard, little square about a fourth the size it should’ve been.
Beyond knitting, she didn’t prefer work in the house when there was ropin’ and ridin’ to do. Didn’t mean she couldn’t cook. She could. Preferred not to, but she could.
Win was better than Cheyenne, and Molly was better than Win. They were eating well these days. Molly being part of this invasion of surprise family was the best part of it. Or the second best.
Meeting Falcon had been the best part. That . . . well, that wounded, gentle, good-looking, puppy-sharing Falcon. That was the best part.
Except he probably had a wife. Which meant she oughta tie him up and drag him behind her horse at a full gallop for a mile or two, over rocks and scrub pines. Then maybe back her horse over him.
Even so, he’d held her close enough to turn a girl’s head to mush.
Cheyenne shoved all that mushiness out of her head. She was not letting her thoughts go to him. She turned away from that annoying Molly and charged after that deed.
Cheyenne rushed down the hallway and into the front room, then she stopped so suddenly she almost fell over her feet. Wyatt, who’d been following, slammed into her from behind and knocked her forward a few steps.
Falcon and Kevin stood together, and both of ’em were looking at her so s
trange.
What had she interrupted?
Only one thing came to mind, but Falcon was a quiet man. He’d’ve never told Kevin about what happened between them in that cave or in here last night.
“Watch what you’re doing.” Wyatt bulled past her, heading for the shelves and shelves of books. His shove was enough to get her eyes off the two men and pay attention to what she was about.
The deed.
If these two didn’t care enough about a plot to steal a ranch that was one-third theirs to stay in the kitchen, then they didn’t deserve to hear what was going on.
She did sneak one long look at Falcon. She thought he looked pale. And there were lines that looked like pain around his eyes and bracketing his mouth. He’d been having those headaches again. Trying to remember. She wanted to ask him what had come to him. And she wanted to clobber him if he’d remembered a wife and six kids. Worse, if he’d remembered three wives and six kids.
But he needed to remember. That’s why he’d left the kitchen and come in here. And Kevin had found him and was worried about him. So was she.
Falcon’s eyes met hers.
Wyatt pulled a book off a shelf and fluttered through the pages. “Take the next shelf, Cheyenne. Win, the one on past. Kevin, get over here, we’re searching each and every book to see if the deeds are stuck in one of them.”
Cheyenne noticed Molly hesitating by the door.
“Should I set dinner back in the oven to stay warm?” Molly asked in a resigned voice.
“Sure,” Wyatt said without looking up from the book in his hands. “We’ll eat whenever we have time. You can just go back to the kitchen.”
Cheyenne glanced at Molly, who glared at Wyatt. Cheyenne hoped Molly didn’t kick Wyatt’s backside. Instead, she turned and left the room.
With one more look at Falcon, Cheyenne forced herself to quit worrying about him. Well, no. She didn’t quit worrying about him, but she quit looking at him and took her worry with her while she searched for Grandpa’s deeds.
“I’ll do a row of books,” said Kevin, “but I reckon it’s a waste of time.”
Wyatt fluttered through another book. “We’ve been through everything else, and we remembered the books and decided we should be thorough.”
Kevin patted Falcon on the shoulder. “You should sit back down. You’re not all the way well yet.”
Falcon nodded, rubbed his temple, and looked around the room.
Cheyenne saw him glance in the back corner like he wished he could get as far away from them as possible.
Instead of standing in the corner, he picked a soft chair that sat to one side of the fireplace, which wasn’t lit.
When he sat, he looked almost like he was collapsing. She wanted to go to him. Scold him for not stopping with his efforts to find his memories.
But she had books to go through.
She worked quickly, thumbing through book after book. On her second shelf, she pulled out a book, and a leather packet came with it, dropping to the floor.
The top was a flap that was tied down with a leather string twisted around a flat brass button. She untwisted it, flipped it open, and pulled a stack of papers out that looked older than anything she’d found before.
The paper on top was a record of a land purchase. Not the mountain but the land the house was built on.
“Wyatt, everyone, I think I’ve found something.”
Win left her neat stacks of books behind. Kevin came up beside her. Wyatt was next. She divided the thick sheaf of papers between the four of them.
“The top one’s a deed for the house. The second one is about some cattle Grandpa bought dated about the time he settled out here. Let’s go through it all.”
Unable to control herself, she went and sat on the settee that faced the fireplace. Falcon had slumped low in his chair, and his head rested against the top of his wingback chair. Another chair, matching Falcon’s, sat straight across from him. The matching dark green settee sat between them.
Everyone was busy carefully studying the papers she’d found. She’d wondered if Falcon was asleep, but he slowly sat forward, rubbing his right temple, and spoke so quietly she didn’t think anyone could hear him but her. “I remembered just a bit more, Cheyenne. Patsy was my wife. I know that for sure.” His eyes, such a perfect match for Wyatt’s, met hers.
Her stomach twisting with anger, Cheyenne asked, “A wife you left behind, just like the Sidewinder left your own ma?”
The roomful of people, already quiet after Cheyenne handed out papers to sort through, went silent.
“You abandoned a wife to come out here?” Wyatt’s hazel eyes flashed with anger.
“I don’t know much else,” Falcon said. “I don’t blame you for being suspicious, but the feeling attached to remembering her . . . it’s solid and good. I don’t want to believe I left her behind. The land wouldn’t have meant much to me. I don’t have a hankerin’ to be a rancher, ’lessen I did but I’ve forgotten it. But when I think of home, I feel no guilt for leaving her.”
“Any memories of your ma?” Cheyenne really just could not stand to talk about his wife anymore. Not when she could still feel the strength of his arms.
Little cracks were snapping across her heart to think how close she’d been held by a married man, how interested she was in him. She was tempted to go hunt up a puppy and hug it in a quest to feel better.
Shaking his head, Falcon said, “I don’t remember details, for certain not about Ma. I just think there wasn’t nothin’ back there for me anymore. I think that means no ma, no young’uns. No wife. No brothers or sisters. No family left. No one.”
Cheyenne nodded. But he could be sure things were over and done between them. Then she caught Kevin looking at her. His eyes immediately snapped back to the papers Cheyenne had handed him.
That had been a mighty strange look. What had these two been doing in here?
With a deep sigh, Cheyenne turned back to Falcon. “Well, you’re neck deep in family now, Falcon. You couldn’t be lonely if you wanted to. I think you’d gone off wandering that first day wanting no part of any of us, and after you lost your memory, you spent a week in the wilderness showing no sign of rushing back upstream to find where you’d come from.”
Falcon gave her a half smile. “I was planning to do that until I saw I was being followed.”
“By me.”
“I told you I watched you sleep, didn’t I?”
Cheyenne felt her neck heat up. It spread, and she was glad she had a deep tan to hide the blush. “I think you said something about getting close enough you could have touched me.”
“A woman I’d never seen before out wandering in the woods, good tracker, woods-savvy.”
Their gazes met. A silence stretched.
“I found it.” Wyatt whooped and waved a paper in the air.
For the first time in a while, Cheyenne had an appetite. “Bring it to the kitchen table.”
Wyatt nodded and headed out, paper in hand. Everyone followed after him. They were fast moving, eager to have a look at that deed, and to get more of Molly’s good cookin’.
TWENTY
Another horseback ride.
Without rememberin’ another blasted thing about himself, Falcon looked at the wild hills they were riding through and wanted to get away from everyone.
He was bringing up the rear. So he watched his family . . . strange notion to have family. It didn’t seem right to him, and yet there they all were. And riding ahead and leading the pack was Cheyenne.
He imagined vanishing into those hills, and taking her with him.
He even thought maybe she’d come along. Then he thought of Patsy and knew she’d’ve never come, and he’d’ve never asked her to.
Shoving that aside, he rode along to visit his new sister-in-law’s pa. He was havin’ some trouble keeping track of who all his family was, and he didn’t think that had a thing to do with takin’ a knock on the head.
At least, little as he care
d about all of this, the ride they were taking led to somewhere that might be interesting. Falcon had yet to meet Oliver Hawkins, and what he knew sounded like the man was no one to admire.
Trying to ignore the call of those mountains as he rode, he thought about sleeping in a crowd instead of out under the stars. It hadn’t suited him. He’d slept in the bunkhouse, shared a set of beds stacked one on top of the other with Andy on the top bunk.
He’d never heard tell of such a thing. Of course maybe he had, but he doubted it. Beds stacked up to crowd lots of men under one roof. Strange arrangement.
Tonight there’d be a stack three high if you counted the dog. Andy had figured out a way for the dog and pups to slip under the bed, making a dark cave for the little family. Every one of the cowpokes seemed to have adopted the dogs.
When Falcon went to the bunkhouse after they ate to stock up on bullets, Andy told him that Rubin had put some salve on the dog’s cut. She’d just licked it off. One of the men had fashioned a bandage by wrapping it tight, but not too tight, around her. She’d chewed it off.
In the end, they’d let her be.
Falcon’s bed was decent. The cabin wasn’t overly warm with the windows open. The cowpokes were friendly, and none too inclined to ask nosy questions.
Falcon liked it in there, but at the same time, he’d considered borrowing an ax, right there in the dark of night, and heading into the woods to build himself a cabin.
And now, because he’d shoved the lunatic inclination to build a cabin aside, he rode with his family to Win’s pa’s house.
It was strange how Win had to be coaxed and almost bullied afore she’d come along. Turned out she hadn’t told her pa she was married, and her pa had never come storming over to complain about it.
They’d all figured the sheriff would tell him the day he went over to talk to Hawkins about Tuttle, and they expected Hawkins to come right over demanding to be told what was going on. But maybe the sheriff figured a woman’s pa knew she was married, and it never came up.
A Man with a Past Page 12