Authors: Shelley Gray
Not distance. Not time. Not doubts.
Not ever again.
Almost a full year had passed since Price had died and Miles had made amends with Vanessa. Since then, Vanessa and Clayton had settled into their cabin and filled their days with ranch work and family.
After a relatively easy pregnancy, Christina May was born and Vanessa spent even more time with Corrine and her children.
Miles kept in touch, taking time to write Vanessa once a month. His latest news was that he'd been squiring a young woman from a neighboring town to church and was finally at peace.
Unfortunately, Scout had not been as good at keeping in touch. Only one letter had arrived, and its contents brought quite a shock.
Dear Clayton,
I was out in Denver and saw Lacy. She said you got married to a real fine woman.Congratulations.
Clayton, I know I haven't been everything you've wanted. I haven't been everything I've wanted, either. But it's hard, trying to be the man you are. After a time, I decided to become a different sort of man. I suspect you might of heard of my new occupation.
I'm not proud of myself, but I'm not ready to leave the life I've chosen, either. All things considered, it's best if you don't try to find me.Maybe one day our paths will cross again. Until then, I promised Lacy I'd write so you wouldn't worry. I figured if you receive this, you'll pass it on to Corrine. You take care, and take care of your wife, too.
Scout
P.S. I read in the Bible that repentance is dif- ficult at best. Pray for me, will you? My sins are many and my future will likely be filled with a great many hurdles.
Clayton read Scout's brief letter one more time over his sister's shoulder. "I don't understand," he said, feeling frustrated and helpless. "I can't believe that when Scout finally decides to write, he tells us so little."
Corrine quirked an eyebrow. "You care to tell me again why you think Scout would have written more? He's written more here than you ever did, I'll tell you that."
Clayton ignored his sister's jab, knowing that she probably did have a point—and if he let her know she was right, she'd most likely never let him forget it.
Instead, he focused on the letter again, taking it from his sister's hands and frowning. "It just doesn't make sense, Corrine."
"I don't think it's supposed to."
"If he doesn't want me to find him, why did he even write?"
"I think he just wants you to know that he hasn't forgotten us. " After a moment, she mused, "And maybe he's trying to apologize for what he's become?"
Clayton tossed the letter on Corrine's writing desk and moved to the other side of the table. It looked like their little brother had finally grown up, whether Clayton was ready for him to or not. The fact that he had no control made him irritated, and a little bit argumentative. "I wish he'd just come this way. He's got to know we'd welcome him with open arms if he came to Colorado."
"I don't think he's ready. There's a time and a place for everything," Corrine said practically.
"You seem awfully calm about all this."
She raised an eyebrow. "You forget, I've already been through this with you."
Clayton couldn't figure out if she was teasing or not. "Corry, Lacy told me he was an outlaw." Clayton didn't even want to admit how much that knowledge had disturbed him.
"I guess he is."
"I've failed him. I'd do anything to make things better."
Softly, Corrine said, "Clayton, you were once searching for peace and forgiveness. Perhaps one day he'll be ready to do the same thing. Maybe one day . . . " his voice drifted off.
"One day we'll see him again, I'm sure of it," Corrine whispered."One day we'll all see him again."
Feeling worn out and wrung dry, Clayton walked back to his home. The night was mild, the full moon bright. He walked on.
Behind him, Corrine and Merritt and their brood were bedding down. In the bunkhouse, the lone whistle and tune of a harmonica floated out, followed by raucous laughter.
But just ahead was his place. Made of logs, it boasted four rooms, one of which had a fireplace that almost spanned a wall. As he got closer, he realized a window was open.
Floating toward him was another laugh of a very different kind. Christy was giggling and cooing. From the sound of things, Vanessa was very happy too.
Eager to be closer, Clayton picked up his pace.
Inside that cabin was his world. Inside was everything he'd dreamed his life could be. Everything he'd prayed for.
Everything he wanted.
Never again would he wait to obtain it.
Never again would he doubt he could.
The barrel of a six-shooter was cold against Jamie's temple.As the iron pressed on her skin, a chill raced through her body.
She should've kept her wool cloak on.
She thought it certainly was amazing how in the most dire circumstances, a body resorted to concentrating on the most basic of things. The gunman pressed the barrel harder against her with a shaky hand. Jamie winced and her fear crept up a notch. Closing her eyes, she waited for the inevitable. Tried her best to recite the Lord's Prayer. Surely, that's what God would want her to think about during her last moments on earth.
"Put that gun down, Kent," one of the men ordered from the other side of the train car. "There's no need to start firing on defenseless women."
Her captor wasn't in the mood for advice. "Shut up, McMillan. The boss might think you're somethin' special, but we both know you ain't none better than the rest of us."Reaching out with his free hand—the one not pressing the firearm to her temple—he took hold of Jamie's arm. Wrapped five thick leather-gloved fingers around her elbow and tugged.
Jamie bit her lip so she wouldn't cry out.
Kent noticed and grinned.
Across the aisle on the floor, one of the six men trussed like turkeys looked away.
"I'm just saying we've got no cause to start killing hostages," McMillan said as he stepped closer. His tan duster glided over the planes of his body, accentuating his chest and the pure white of his cotton shirt.
"I ain't killed no one today. Not yet, leastways."
"Don't start now. You heard what Boss said," McMillan said, stepping close enough for Jamie to see faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes.
Jamie found it almost impossible to look away. The man— McMillan—spoke so quietly. So calmly. Like he was speaking of the bitter cold temperatures outside. Or the snow covering the ground. In fact, he looked almost bored, holding his Colt in his right hand and scanning the rest of them with little curiosity.Her future? To go live with her maiden aunts until she and Randall—her aunts' favorite neighbor and her very recent correspondent—decided matrimony was in their future.
Just like none of them counted.
Jamie blinked back tears as she tried to stay as still as possible.But it was hard, because the train was still moving.
As panic,grief, and a thousand other emotions engulfed her, Jamie wondered why the Lord had placed her on this train with a band of outlaws. Both her parents had succumbed to influenza just two months ago. After selling everything she owned, she boarded the train in Denver and planned to continue traveling east on the Kansas Pacific toward Kansas City.Her future? To go live with her maiden aunts until she and Randall—her aunts' favorite neighbor and her very recent correspondent—decided matrimony was in their future.
However, from the time she'd boarded, the journey had been difficult. She had little extra money, so she was in the second-class coach along with everyone else who couldn't afford to travel more privately in first class. No one had needed to tell her that traveling in third class was not an option.