Colin's Quest (20 page)

Jumping out on the other side of the bed, she held up a hand when he walked toward her.

“No, Wes, we can’t. We never should’ve started this. Your father is my husband.”

Chuckling, he stalked forward until he had her trapped in a corner of the bedroom. Gripping her behind the neck, he hauled her to him, lowering his mouth to within inches of hers. “That’s not what you said when you kept offering yourself to me, encouraging me to take what I wanted. Are you saying you never wanted it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before crushing his mouth to hers, letting his hands wander up and down her back, feeling the heat rising off her almost naked body.

So lost in the feel of her, Wes didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. His only warning was a feral growl before a strong hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around, a fist connecting with his jaw. Spiraling backward, Wes slammed against the wall. He hadn’t recovered when another blow crushed his nose, the sound of breaking bones and cartilage loud enough for Rhoda to react with a shrill scream.

Lifting his arms to defend against the punishing blows, Wes gazed up to see his father, rage and hate on his face, standing over him. Grabbing Wes by his shirt, Fergus pulled him up, sending another smashing blow to his face. Letting him drop to the ground, Fergus kicked him in the stomach and ribs, not letting up when Wes begged him to stop.

“Fergus! Stop. You’ll kill him.” Rhoda tried to insert herself between the two men, only to be shoved aside.

After a few more savage kicks, Fergus stepped away, letting out a savage roar at the sight of his son, broken and unable to move. His shoulders slumping, he lowered himself to the bed, scrubbing a hand down his anguished face.

Rhoda lowered herself to the floor, kneeling beside Wes. “Can you move?” she whispered, ignoring the tension streaming off Fergus. At any moment, she expected him to grab her by the collar and toss her aside. Instead, she heard the sound of sobs behind her. The sight of Wes’s broken body and the tortured cries of Fergus were more than she could handle. Standing, she dashed from the room and ran down the stairs, calling to their cook for help.

“Why, Wes? You could have any woman you want. Why Rhoda?”

Even through the haze of pain, Wes heard the torment in his father’s voice. His attraction to Rhoda had never been about hurting his father. In fact, he didn’t even consider the impact the illicit affair would have on the older man. Each time Rhoda used her body and considerable charms to tempt him to her room, selfish desire consumed him. Fergus’s name almost never followed them to the bed.

Leveraging himself enough to lean his back against the wall, Wes tried to open his rapidly swelling eyes. Pain racked his body as if he’d been run over by a stampeding herd. Never had he thought his father capable of such a brutal attack on his own son. Walt’s warning that Fergus would kill him had never registered until now.

Shaking his head, he opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. He had no idea what to say. Realizing it didn’t matter—he was already a dead man, at least in his father’s eyes—he cleared his throat, trying to straighten his spine.

“Every time you left the ranch, Rhoda offered herself to me. I knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop me.” Choking, he swallowed the bile in his throat. “After the first time, I couldn’t stay away.” Slumping back against the wall, Wes shook with pain and regret. He knew Fergus would either kill him or send him away. His place alongside his father had vanished when he took Rhoda to bed.

Fergus sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t summon any compassion for the man before him. Wes had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

“Get your stuff together. I want you off the ranch by sunrise. If you ever have the notion to come back, don’t. You’ll be shot on sight.” Turning his back, Fergus walked to the door, ignoring Wes’s plea to stop. Reaching into a pocket, he took out an envelope and tossed it on the bed. “Take that with you,” he said before slamming the door behind him. His mind fogged, barely registering Rhoda and their cook coming up the steps with warm water and towels.

Shoving the bedroom door open, Rhoda dropped beside Wes as the cook set the pan of water on the floor. Soaking the towels, then wringing out the excess water, she wiped his face and neck.

“Get him clean clothes,” she murmured to the cook without taking her gaze off Wes. “Can you stand?”

His eyes slits, he looked up at her. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to try.” Putting her arm around his waist, he leveraged himself with one hand, propelling his body toward the bed. Cursing, he crashed onto it before Rhoda could break the fall. “We need to get these soiled clothes off you.”

Carrying fresh clothes as she entered, the woman who cooked, cleaned, and helped raise Wes since his mother died did her best to hide the tears as she assisted Rhoda. She could guess what transpired to prompt such a violent act by Fergus. Seeing it first-hand was almost more than the older woman could bear.

An hour later, the cook left, leaving Rhoda to watch over Wes.

“He ordered me to leave by dawn. I don’t know that I can even get on my horse...” His voice drifted off as his eyes closed. He needed sleep if he were to leave in a few hours.

She’d never seen the smug, arrogant man who’d shared her bed so defeated. Rhoda had grown up with nothing. Starting over would be hard, but she knew it could be done. Not so with Wes. He’d grown up as the egotistical heir to a ranching empire, certain of his fate. Now everything had been stripped from him.

Spotting an envelope on the floor next to the bed, she opened it, her eyes widening. Tucking it into the almost full satchel at the side of the bed, she stretched out beside Wes, a plan forming in her mind.

“No sense keeping him in River City any longer. As far as I’m concerned, he’s fit enough to start back to your ranch.” It had been almost three weeks since the shooting and Quinn had shown considerable improvement. “Wish I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but…” Doc offered them a tired smile.

“We understand. Quinn isn’t the easiest man to be around, even in the best times.” Colin shook the doc’s hand.

“Colin’s right. We’d have nothing to do with the lad if we weren’t blood kin.” Brodie clasped a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“Enough,” Quinn grumbled. “I’ve been injured and all you eejits can do is give me grief.” He took the doc’s hand in a firm grip. “Thanks, Doc. I’d have died without your help.”

“I don’t know as I’d go that far, but you were in pretty bad shape. And don’t think the trip south will be easy because it won’t.” He looked at each of the men. “I’m certain you’ll ignore what I have to say, but at least let me get it out. You’ll need to stop more often and earlier each day. Don’t push him if he’s tired. And make sure he eats something more than just hardtack and jerky.”

“We can do that, Doc.”

The men turned to see Sarah walk in, Geneen a few steps behind.

“We’ll be taking an extra pack horse with food and other supplies.” Looking at Colin’s surprised expression, Sarah smiled. “Geneen and I have it all arranged. At least we can get a few days out before we have to resort to trail food.”

They’d discussed taking a wagon, but there weren’t enough funds to buy one, plus the animals to pull it. Using their well-bred horses would be a risk—one the men weren’t willing to take.

“Anything else you and Geneen have planned?” Colin slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her close.

“Oh, I might have a few surprises left for you.” Sarah winked, her eyes sparkling.

“We’ll say goodbye, Doc. We hope to get on the trail by dawn two days from now and I have no idea when we’ll be back.” Opening the door, Colin stayed behind while everyone walked outside. “I’ll send you the money as soon as I return to Conviction. Thanks for not letting our lack of funds hold up your work on Quinn.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed, although his expression stayed friendly. “I never considered
not
helping him. It’s what I do, son. Now, you have a safe ride home. If you’re ever up this way again, I’d be honored if you stopped by to see me.”

“Have you seen these, Wes?” Holding the documents in her hand, she waved them in front of his face.

She’d helped him up not long before. At least he’d had a few hours of fitful sleep. The sun would be up in an hour and he’d need to be well on his way by then. While he slept, she’d packed the rest of her clothes and loaded them in a wagon. She’d then made her way to Wes’s house, stuffing what she could into saddlebags and the rest into satchels, which now sat behind the seat of the wagon. Harnessing a draft horse, then tying her own to the back of the wagon were the last tasks before she returned to the bedroom.

“No,” he rasped out. “What is it?”

“The deed to some property and a stack of cash. I’m guessing it’s Fergus’s way of not letting you leave a complete pauper.”

Grabbing the document from her, Wes read it twice. He didn’t know why his father had done it, but he’d accept whatever help he could. Slipping the deed and money in a pocket, he took hesitant steps toward the door.

“Wes?”

Leaning a hand against the door, he turned toward her. “What?”

“Take me with you. Fergus is tossing me out, too. We can leave together, maybe, um…maybe help each other.” She gripped her hands tight in front of her. Even if he said no, she’d follow as best she could. After all, she had nowhere else to go.

He’d never seen Rhoda with hope in her eyes. Desire, pleasure, and fear, yes, but never hope, as if his response meant a great deal to her.

“I’ll make no promises to you. If you want to ride along, it’s your choice. Just don’t go thinking it makes us a couple because it doesn’t.”

Her body visibly relaxed. Even if it wasn’t all she hoped he’d offer, at least neither of them would be alone on the trail.

“Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

“I may not, but you might.”

Making his way downstairs and out the back door, he saw the wagon and his horse saddled, all ready to go. With help from Rhoda, he swung into the saddle, then took one more glance around. He’d never see this place or his father again. Somehow, the sharp pang of regret he expected didn’t come. Instead, he focused on a future far away from River City. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, she climbed onto the wagon and took the reins. “Ready.”

Fergus stood at his upstairs window, watching the two disappear around a bend in the road, the pain in his chest so intense, he thought he might collapse. He’d lost his wife and son, leaving him to run a ranch no one would remember once he died. All the hard work, years of toil, meant nothing to him anymore.

He’d expected Rhoda to leave with Wes and hadn’t tried to stop her when he heard her harness the horse to the wagon. The wagon and horses were a small price to pay to get her out of his life. Tomorrow, he’d ride to town, file the necessary papers to end the marriage, and change his will. He didn’t know who he’d leave all his land and wealth to, but it didn’t matter right now. Today, he’d drink his breakfast, dinner, and supper, then he’d drink some more. Maybe if he lost himself in a few bottles, he’d be able to forget the sting of betrayal and get on with his life.

Chapter Fourteen

“Are you certain we can’t talk you into staying a few more days so I can marry you?” Reverend Olford leaned back in his chair as Bessie placed the last platter of food on the table. His wife insisted they all have one final supper together before the three men and two women left on their journey south. “I know it would relieve Bessie to see you hitched before you left.”

Sarah and Colin shared guilty glances, not wanting to disappoint the Olfords. The older couple had been their staunchest supporters, but that still didn’t sway their decision to marry at the MacLaren ranch. Taking Sarah’s hand, Colin repeated what they’d told them several times in the past few weeks.

“We appreciate all you’ve done, but it’s important to us and my family that Sarah and I marry at home. I’ve already sent word to Ma to start the wedding plans. There’d be no living with her if I put a stop to them now.”

“Understood, Colin. Thought I’d ask once more.” They all turned to the pounding on the front door.