Coming Up Roses (21 page)

"And Uncle Ryan? You'll make certain sure he don't git me?"

Zach stiffened.

"You promised," she whimpered. "You promised, on official!"

So he had. Now it seemed that could turn out to be a promise he'd have to break. Miranda in the custody of her uncle?

Everything within Zach rebelled against that thought. But what could he do to prevent it? A man had been killed.

He couldn't turn a blind eye to something so serious. If Kate was detained by the sheriff at all, it would only be for a few days. Just for a few days. He felt certain of that. How much damage could Blakely do to the child in so short a time?

"I'll do everything I can to see to it you don't have to stay with your uncle Ryan," he told Miranda.

"You promised," she whispered fiercely. "You promised!"

"And I always try to keep my promises," he assured her. "Don't you worry your head about it. Everything will work out, Mandy."

That seemed to satisfy her. Such trust. In the face of it, Zach felt humbled. Miranda's hero. But he wasn't a hero.

Just an ordinary man, that was all he was. An ordinary man who was obligated to do the responsible thing, which meant he had to tell the sheriff about Joseph Blakely's death.

He drew the covers up under Miranda's chin and smoothed her hair, prepared to stay with her as long as it took for her to drift off to sleep. To his surprise, only minutes passed before her eyes fell closed.

When he crept back downstairs, he found Kate still sitting on the chair, the pool of muddy water at her feet grown larger, her eyes fixed on something he couldn't see. She was shivering, whether from cold or shock, he didn't know. He wished there was something he could say to her.

There was nothing.

* * *

Kate heard the front door close softly. At the sound, she shut her eyes and listened to the storm outside. Its anger fed the rage within her and intensified her fear. Despite all she had done, Ryan was going to get his vile hands on Miranda.

After so many months of holding the tears at bay, that thought broke through the dam of Kate's self-control. Sobs tore up her throat, and she didn't try to stop them. Crying was what you did when all else failed, wasn't it? Well, all else had failed. Everything for nothing. The endless tension. The constant fear of discovery. Memories haunting her, day and night. All of it had gone for naught.

Even if she was found innocent of any wrongdoing and set free after only a couple of days, Miranda might never recover from the experience. If just a visit from Ryan made her withdraw, what might happen if she were placed in his custody?

Damn Zachariah McGovern. Damn him straight to hell. She'd begged him to stay away, and he hadn't listened.

Now her baby's fate was out of her hands. Completely out of her hands.

* * *

Halfway to town, Zach drew Dander to a stop and tipped his face back to catch the rain. Memories, so many memories. And voices clamoring inside his head. Miranda's. Kate's. Ryan Blakely's. Mandy's tiny little hand, burned so horribly. What kind of a man did something like that? If given the chance, would Ryan Blakely do something equally vile to her?

Damn it to hell, he had no choice. A dead man was buried in Kate's rose garden. He couldn't pretend he didn't know. There was only one thing for him to do—what any reasonable, rational adult would do. He had to report her to the sheriff. It wouldn't be his fault if Miranda was given over into Ryan Blakely's custody. It wouldn't he his fault if Kate, by some twist of fate, was found guilty of murder. None of that was for him to decide. That was why jurors were handpicked, to see that justice was done. When people started taking the law into their own hands, there was nothing but trouble.

You promised!

Zach recalled the morning he had found Miranda playing with his knife.
Don't you know what happens to little
girls who play with knives?
Dear God, he had echoed her father, almost to the word.
Don't you know what
happens to little girls who play with fire?
And then Kate, the look on her face that night when he had asked her to trust him with whatever it was that had her so badly frightened. She had nearly confided in him then. He had seen the longing in her eyes.

And if she had? What would he have done? Zach didn't know. He only knew that their faces seemed to be mirrored in the flashes of lightning, that the wind seemed to carry the whispers of their voices.

Roses. Kate's beautiful roses. Everything else going to rack and ruin, but not the roses. No wonder she had such a fixation about keeping the earth just so. She hadn't buried the son of a bitch deep enough. He kept coming up!

And the blossoms. Such a vibrant, blood red. The healthiest crop on the place, and well they should be, as well fertilized as they were.

The thought suddenly struck him as hysterically funny. Instead of pushing up daisies, Joseph Blakely was coming up roses. Zach began to laugh, and once he started he couldn't seem to stop. Sitting there in the rain as he was, it took several seconds for him to realize tears were streaming down his cheeks.

You promised, on official!

What if he just went home? What if he simply pretended he had never seen that boot sticking up out of the dirt?

And what would that accomplish? Sooner or later, the inevitable would happen. Another hard rain would unearth the evidence. Or, God forbid, Nosy would. And someone else would make the discovery.

Zach clicked his tongue and nudged Dander back into a trot. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. No sense at all.

Determined to continue toward town, Zach reined in the horse after going only a few feet. He gazed toward Kate's place. It had been nearly seven months since Joseph's death. The corpse would be badly deteriorated.

There was a strong possibility, at this late date, that the findings in a simple inquest wouldn't be concrete enough to prove Kate's story. If the coroner couldn't tell by examining Joseph's body whether he had been struck on the head with a blunt object, like a piece of firewood, or by something sharp, like a jagged surface of a stone hearth, the case would go before a grand jury. If that happened, Kate might be incarcerated a hell of a lot longer than just a few days.

Zach closed his eyes, sick with dread. What might happen to the child if her uncle had custody of her, not for days, but for weeks or months?

What if he went back and finished what Kate had started? No one would ever discover Joseph Blakely's body if Zach buried the bastard several feet deeper. If he did a good job of it, Nosy's sniffer wouldn't tempt him to do any more digging. Rain and runoff would never unearth the evidence. And Ryan Blakely had already sworn that the last place he would ever look for the body would be in the rose garden. It was the perfect spot.

Thoughts of Ryan Blakely brought Zach up short. If the man carried out his threat to search for Joseph's body, he'd stumble across it sooner or later. Then what? They'd be faced with the same problem they were now.

No, not exactly the same. Given some time, there were measures he and Kate could take to make certain Ryan Blakely never got custody of Miranda. Not for a day, not even for a minute. Then, even if Ryan did eventually discover the body, at least the child wouldn't suffer the consequences.

All Zach had to do was convince Kate of his plan.

* * *

When the storm finally broke at dawn, Kate was still sitting before the empty hearth, shivering, staring, and listening. A few times during the night, she'd thought she heard something outside, but no one had come to the door. After crying herself half sick, she had been too drained to go and see what caused the noise. What did it matter? Sooner or later, Zachariah would show up with the sheriff. Time enough then to face it. Until that happened, she couldn't muster the energy to do anything more than sit there.

But now… Zachariah should have returned hours ago. So where was he? How long could it take to bring back the law and a couple of shovels?

As if on cue, Kate heard the heavy fall of boots coming up her front steps. Her heart leaped and she glanced at the ceiling, praying Miranda wouldn't awaken. It'd be best if she didn't witness this.

The footsteps echoed on the flooring, coming from the foyer, along the hall, into the kitchen. Kate heard water slosh and supposed the men were washing up. She braced herself.

"Kate?"

Zachariah's weary voice. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he had come to stand in the doorway. She forced her shoulders erect and rose stiffly from the chair. As she turned, she searched behind him for the sheriff.

The other man was nowhere to be seen. Just Zachariah, Miranda's hero, turned traitor. Not that she blamed him for that. He had to do what was right, and in this instance, that was pretty clear, even to her.

He looked exhausted. Wet through to the skin. Mud had soaked into his sheepskin jacket. The sopped brim of his hat drooped low over his brow, shadowing his eyes and darkly handsome face. So tall, so broad at the shoulders, so safe looking. Only he was Miranda's hero, not hers.

"What happened?" she asked when she saw the state he was in. "Did you get thrown?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You could say that, yes. Thrown." He laughed softly. Kate thought that was cruel of him. The situation didn't strike her as being funny. "Can you step outside with me for a second? I've got something to show you. And then we need to talk. I don't want Miranda overhearing."

Maybe not so cruel, after all. He was still thinking of Miranda, at least. Assuming the sheriff must be waiting on the porch, Kate nodded. "I should get my shawl." Then she glanced down at her filthy skirt. "I didn't think to change. I guess—"

"Katie…"

At the husky sound of his voice, she glanced up and tried to read the expression in his eyes. Shadows frustrated her, and she realized the lantern had burned out. The only light came in through the windows. Sunlight, at last.

But none for Miranda.

"You won't need your shawl or a clean dress," he informed her. "I didn't go for the sheriff."

"You didn't? But—" She stared up at him. "But why not?"

He crooked a finger at her. "Come on, and I'll tell you."

He seemed awfully pleased about whatever it was.

Then, with the same finger with which he had just summoned her, he pushed back his hat. She could see the twinkle in his eyes. A very satisfied twinkle. When she drew up in front of him, he took her arm, his grasp firm, and led her through the house and out onto the porch. He drew her to a stop at the head of the steps.

"Well?"

Well? She frowned, wondering what had gotten into him. Then she spied the rose garden. As if by magic, Joseph's boot had disappeared, and the surface of the garden, beaten by pelting rain, looked as though it had never been touched by her hoe. Kate stared, trying to assimilate what this meant. No boot. No sign of her frantic attempts to cover it up.

"Oh, my…" She turned toward him. "Zachariah, what have you—"

He touched a finger to her lips. "The problem has been taken care of."

Kate couldn't quite believe her eyes or her ears. And she had no idea what to say. Tears blurred her vision. "Oh, Zachariah."

She clamped a hand over her mouth, perilously close to making an utter fool of herself by bawling.

Zach turned her toward him. "I suppose you think I've lost my mind," he said. "And I guess maybe I have. But it's done, and right or wrong, I feel good about it. A hell of a lot better than I would have if I'd gone for the sheriff, at any rate."

"I don't know what to say," she managed.

His mouth quirked at the corners. "Thanks?"

She brushed at her cheeks. "Oh, Zachariah. A million thank-yous would never—" She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and bit down hard. It was so foolish to cry when she should be leaping with joy and relief. "It seems I'm once again in your debt."

His hazel eyes warmed with an indefinable emotion. "No, not this time." He cupped her chin in his hand. "This time, Katie, there's a charge for my services."

"Oh?" Her heart caught, for she suddenly knew what it was that she sensed in him, an air of possessiveness. "And what might that be?"

"Your daughter. I want to adopt her."

"My daughter?" she repeated hollowly. That wasn't what she expected. "You want to adopt my daughter?"

"Yes, with all my heart." He feathered his thumb across her cheek. She had been right. His thumbs had been fashioned perfectly for wiping away tears. "If she's legally mine, Ryan can never touch her or get custody of her.

Think about that."

She stared up at him, her mind circling what he'd said, but shying away from what it meant.

"She'd be safe, Kate. No matter what ever happened, she'd be a McGovern, not a Blakely. If something happens to me, I've got three brothers who'll see to it she's cared for. I know it's probably a scary thought for you to contemplate, given the way Joseph was and all. You've no guarantee I'm a good fellow, I know. But you have to see that I'm a far better bet than Ryan."

"Is this an ultimatum?" she asked weakly. "If I don't agree, you'll go to the sheriff?"

He sighed and shook his head. "God, no. What in hell gave you—" He laughed softly and released her to lean his elbows on the porch railing. After surveying his handiwork in the rose garden for a moment, he said, "No, Kate, I won't ever breathe a word of this to anyone. You've got my promise on that."

She stared at him. "Then why is an adoption necessary?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.

He turned to look at her. A ray of feeble sunlight slashed across his scarred jaw. "Because of Ryan. The new depth may stop the rain and Nosy, but it won't stop him. Not forever. If he carries through on his threat to search for the body, he'll eventually find it. When he does, we'll be right back where we are now, with him inches away from getting custody of Miranda until you get all the tangles worked out. God knows what might happen to her meanwhile."

It was true. Kate knew that. But, oh, God, to give up her child? Miranda was her only reason for living. "You want to take her away from me?"

"No. Not unless you insist it be that way."

"But if you adopt her, how else can—" She broke off and met his gaze. Suddenly she knew what he had in mind.

An unreasoning panic rushed her. "No," she whispered. "No, absolutely not."

"Why not?" he asked evenly. "Give me one good reason."

"I don't want to be married again," she came back, "not to you, or to anyone."

"I'm not Joseph, Katie."

She squeezed her eyes closed for an instant. "You don't understand."

"Oh, yes. I understand, all right. You're scared spitless to be under anyone's thumb again. That's easy enough to figure out. In time, that will fade."

She gave her head an emphatic shake. "No, never. Marriage is out of the question."

"It's that or give up your daughter. Just you think about that. One way or another, you'll lose her, to me if you're smart, to Ryan if you're not. I guess that's your choice."

Kate's legs felt rubbery. She reached to the railing for support. "How can you dare?"

"Dare what?"

"Try to coerce me into a marriage, using my daughter as a bargaining chip!"

He sighed. "Is that how you see it?" He grew silent for a moment, then gave a humorless laugh. "I guess if I'm honest, the idea of adopting her has its benefits. Namely getting you in the bargain. But that's not my reason for offering." He shot her a look. "I want to protect her. If the only way to do that is to adopt her outside of marriage, I'll do it in a shot. That's entirely up to you."

"I'd lose my child!" she cried angrily.

His eyes held hers. "I didn't cause this situation. I'm just trying to salvage something from it. If you feel that strongly about not marrying, then let's just draw up papers in front of a judge. I'll let you see her any time you like."

"She's
my
daughter, not yours!" Kate wrapped her arms around herself. "I won't give her up. I won't!"

"You will if Ryan finds that body," was his answer.

Kate flinched. His words hung in the air between them, an undeniable truth. But to let him adopt her?

Frantically, Kate tried to think of alternatives such as seeing a lawyer to have Zachariah declared legal guardian for Miranda in the event of her mother's death or incapacitation. She no sooner hit upon that idea than she discarded it. With all his convincing lies, Joseph had succeeded in casting Kate into a bad light with the townspeople, calling her fitness as a mother and her emotional balance into question. To throw suspicion off himself, he had even implied that Kate's mood swings could make her dangerous, to Miranda and possibly others.

With those lies as ammunition, Ryan would find it frighteningly easy to make it appear that Kate was of unsound mind and therefore incapable of choosing a proper guardian for her daughter.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Kate struggled for composure. As much as she hated to admit it, Zachariah was right. If she married him and he adopted Miranda, he would have inalienable rights to his wife and child, legal rights that could never be questioned by Ryan or anyone else.

"I love her so much," she whispered raggedly.

"I know you do."

"I can't give her up. I can't."

"I'm offering you another choice."

"Marriage?" she squeaked. "For me, that isn't a choice, it's a life sentence."

He shifted his arms on the railing and gazed down at the palms of his hands. After a long while, he said, "I'm sorry, Kate. It seemed like a good idea when it occurred to me. I guess I just wasn't thinking." He laughed again.

"I suppose it'd be more correct to say I wasn't thinking about how you'd feel about it. Marrying you, adopting Miranda … that'd make me one happy man. Kind of like a dozen Christmases, all rolled into one."

He pushed erect and heaved another weary sigh. After gazing for a long while at the rose garden, he repositioned his hat on his head and turned up the collar of his jacket.

"Well…" He turned to regard her. "It's been a long night, and I'm beat. I think I'll head on home. I left Nosy locked up in the house. He'll be needing out. What I said earlier, about keeping my mouth shut? You can count on that. As far as I'm concerned, I never came here last night."

He started around her.

"I've hurt you," she said. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded—about the life sentence. It's nothing personal."

He touched a hand to her shoulder. "You know where I am if you need me."

Kate watched him as he cleared the steps in two long-legged strides. Once in the yard, he lengthened his gait.

Miranda's one hope, and she was letting him walk away. True, entrusting her daughter to him was a risk, but, as he said, he was a far better bet than Ryan.

"Wait!" she cried.

He wheeled to a stop and nudged his hat back to gaze at her, not speaking, his expression impossible to read.

"Can we d-discuss this?"

He slowly retraced his steps until he reached the porch. Planting his feet wide apart and his hands on his hips, he said, "I'm sorry. I thought we had."

Kate didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone. "It isn't easy for me to contemplate getting married again."

"Then don't."

She moved to the head of the steps. "How can I not? Giving up my daughter is out of the question. And you're right. Ryan won't give up."

"Is that a yes?" he asked with an unmistakable smile in his voice.

Kate took a gulp of air. "Wh-What if we drew up the adoption papers, just like you said, only she stayed here?"

He dug the heel of one boot into the mud. "That's a thought. My worry would be that Ryan might contest the legality of it if I didn't actually have custody of her. If she's in my home and happy there, a judge would think twice about annulling the adoption."

She worried her lip. "What if you adopted her, and I moved in as the housekeeper? That Ching Lee fellow, he could get a job elsewhere, couldn't he?"

His mouth lifted slightly at the corners. "There you go. Wouldn't Ryan have fun with that in court. You and I living together without benefit of marriage? All the God-fearing folk in Roseburg would stone us every time we rode into town."

She raised her hands. "There has to be an answer other than marriage."