Echoes (45 page)

Fury did what determination could not. She forced her arms to move and pushed to a sit. Slowly, laboriously she got one foot beneath her and then another. She straightened, swaying in place. Cold sweat broke on her face. Dirt caked the reddened fabric of her dress and her side throbbed with each agonizing heartbeat. She looked off in the distance at the endless miles of wilderness. Her vision blurred as she turned to look back the way she'd come. Nothing, forever, nothing.

She was shaking, knowing that she wouldn't make it two more steps, when she saw a horse and rider. Waves of blackness washed over her, making her sway. She blinked, peering through the muddied fog of consciousness. Had she really seen someone?

The steady thud of hooves on the ground answered. Yes, Adam...he'd come. There was still hope. Her knees threatened to give out, but she kept her balance by sheer will. A small shape running at the horse's side barked twice and then broke free to race towards her. Lady, it was Lady.

Molly began to sob and now her legs did give out, pitching her forward in a clump of twisted skirts and pain. With a soft, compassionate whine, Lady slowed to a stop and moved in to sniff and comfort her.

Molly touched the silky head and managed a smile. "I knew you'd come for me."

She looked out at the horse and rider, still in the distance but closing in quickly. Her smile wavered.

"No," she rasped. She tried to stand again, but it was no use. She couldn't even feel her legs now, let alone command them. Crying out from the pain, she rolled to her stomach and tried to crawl. Lady kept pace beside her, whining with confusion. The horse stopped behind her and still she kept moving, inching herself away from the evil that dismounted and approached.

"I promised Adam I'd bring you back," he said.

Molly blinked at the sweat that streamed into her eyes. What did he say? He'd promised Adam? So Adam was alive?

"He's in a bad way himself." Brodie's voice hitched. "Thought he was dead when I found him, but Mrs. Imogene is tending him now. She thinks he'll pull through." Brodie took a deep, shaking breath. "Even all shot up, he still wanted to come after you. You're all he cares about now."

The anger and loathing in his voice cut through the fog of pain. His boots crunched the earth as he stepped beside her. She tried to crawl away.

"Where do you think you're going, Molly?"

She shook her head, but didn't stop. Her elbows were raw and bleeding and her ribs felt like they were on fire. Awareness faded in an out, but her hatred and fear of Brodie Weston kept her moving.

"You're a stubborn one," he said. "I'll give you that."

"Go. To. Hell."

He reached down and grabbed her arm, turning her with ease that infuriated her. She willed her legs to move, to kick, to run, but they didn't even twitch in response. Her arms and hands were becoming numb as well, as if they'd already died. Colors danced behind her eyes. Brodie knelt beside her, his face filling her vision, igniting a burning fury in her failing heart.

Gently he gripped the front of her dress and drew her up. She had no choice but to let him support her. Brodie stared into her eyes with kindness that contradicted everything she knew to be true. Her lips were dry and cracked and she struggled to wet them.

"It's alright now," Brodie whispered. "Everything is going to be alright now."

She didn't see the knife before it sliced through the shell of pain into the arena of agony. He pushed it unhesitatingly deep and twisted it, all the while gazing down with concern at her face. He held her tight as she screamed and blackness rushed in. Confident now that there would be nothing left of her to speak out and betray him, he eased her to the dirt. He held the knife in his bloody hand before, as an afterthought, he bent to use her skirts to wipe both clean.

She watched as if from above, knowing that these were the last moments of her life. Knowing that with her, the truth would die. Her rage became a heat that emanated out from her core. Brodie paused, as if surprised by the gust of it against his skin. She whispered something and with a quizzical cock of his head, Brodie leaned closer to catch the words.

Her pitifully weak fingers closed over his wrist, sliding without apparent purpose to his hand.

"What did you say?"

Molly moved with a speed that belied her dying body. She wrenched the knife from his unresisting fingers before he comprehended what she'd done. With her last ounce of strength she brought the knife up, but she was too slow. Too slow.

The blade glanced off his chest, leaving a long angry welt that immediately oozed blood. But it wasn't a mortal wound. He touched it and rubbed the blood between his fingers.

"I will haunt from the grave," she whispered hoarsely. "I will haunt you from the grave."

She stared into his face, her last thought reaching through the darkness to find Adam and Arlie. But her dying breath was filled with Brodie and the hatred that consumed her.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Caitlin ran for her life. She could hear the horse chasing her down. She could hear the screams of the people she knew. She didn't understand, but she'd always known they were coming for her. The echo of the shot the sheriff had fired at her aunt still rang in her ears. Another shot split the air above her head as she ran, ran. But this wasn't right. She knew inside her that it wasn't right. The only way to end it was to go back.

She lurched to a halt and turned around just as the thundering hooves of a horse charging up the drive reached her ears. She peered at it in the distance as time seemed to warp itself. Her pounding heart lurched with the memory of another horse, another rider who had scooped her up and taken her away from everything she'd known and loved. But it hadn't really been her. And this rider was different. This rider was Mr. Weston. The good one. She lifted her arms as he thundered towards her and in one fluid movement, he scooped her up onto the horse.

"Hurry," she said. "Or you'll be too late."

Chapter Fifty-Three

The blaze of Molly's rage pierced Tess, burrowed deep into her heart and then exploded in a flash that brought her bolt upright with widened eyes. The sheriff's bullet had cut through her side, making it hard to breathe, hard to stay conscious. Through a red haze of pain Tess saw the sheriff turn his gun on Craig.

"No," Craig shouted. "You got it wrong. I'm in. I'm in."

"You fuck me and you'll wish I'd shot you here."

Craig nodded quickly.

Tess staggered to her feet and swayed in place, watching Craig with narrowed eyes, understanding at last that he'd played her. All along her heart had told her that Grant was worth touching, worth loving. She'd known he wasn't capable of the things his brother said.

Craig looked back at her with an expression that hinted regret while it spoke of choices already made. It was down to the two of them, now, just as it had been then. Grant wouldn't rush through the door and save the day anymore than Adam had.

Craig put his hands out, palms up, and shook his head. For a moment he faltered as he searched for something to say. Like he hadn't meant it to end this way. Or it wasn't his fault.

But it
was
his fault. It had been for a hundred years. His jealousy, his warped lust for things he couldn't have, his penchant for violence. He'd learned to hide it well and he'd nearly convinced her that he was the good brother, like Brodie had tried to convince Molly a lifetime ago. She'd played a new part this time, but the end was the same.

"I'll haunt you from the grave."

The skin on Craig's face thinned until it seemed she could see through him to the terror inside.

The ending was the same for Molly, for Tess. But not for Caitlin. Molly died not knowing what became of Arlie. Perhaps she'd been fortunate. Perhaps not. All Tess knew was that
she
would not do the same. She may die on this day, but not before she knew her niece was safe.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Craig said. "I didn't have a choice. I've never had a fucking choice."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? What about my sister? Lydia? Your own father?"

"I told you, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. All I wanted was the ranch. But he wouldn't give it to me. I told him he could live someplace better but he went crazy."

"So you killed him?"

"He attacked me."

"You said he was practically an invalid, Craig. How could he attack you?"

"I didn't mean for it—"

"For Christ sakes, get over it," Smith barked. "Quit bawling and go get the kid."

"Let her go," Tess cried. "She's just a little girl. Leave her alone."

"We're cleaning house. Everything goes."

Tess launched herself at Smith, knocking him back against the wall with a thump. Cursing, he brought the butt of his gun down hard on her head. She was hemorrhaging and the unstaunched loss of blood made her weak. Blackness swirled all around her but she fought hard to stay conscious. The weight of fate bore down heavily, but in her head, Molly still shouted her fury and somewhere outside a little girl depended on her.

As if through a haze, she saw the butcher block on the counter, the knives slotted neatly inside. She stayed down, crouched and unthreatening, garnering her strength before she lunged toward them. She fumbled, then managed to pull the largest knife free and turn it on Craig. The blade sliced through his arm and he screamed like a woman.

Insane rage darkened his face an instant before he slammed her back against the counter. She swung again, but Craig chopped her arm down hard on the edge of the countertop. She heard a snap, then felt blinding pain. He grabbed the knife from her unresisting fingers and slashed at her with it.

Tess slid to the floor. Blackness crowded into her vision and the familiar feeling of Molly's life slipping away settled over Tess's heart.

"Weston, get the hell outside and find that kid or you're going to burn for all of it alone. You got me? I will skin you and put you on display."

Smith's voice came to her from a distance. She couldn't hold on much longer. But there was Caitlin...

Suddenly the screen door slammed and at that second Caitlin raced in. Only for a moment, what Tess saw wasn't Caitlin. It was a small boy looking through her eyes like a masked phantom.

"No, Caity," Tess whispered. "Run away. Run away."

Caitlin shook her head, eyes solemn and steady. "I'm not supposed to run. I come back. I'm supposed to come back."

A sound gurgled up and out Craig's opened mouth as Caitlin glared at him, her features frozen hard and cold. And then suddenly Grant was barreling into the room. Smith moved to intercept and the two men crashed to the floor. Smith waved his gun, trying for a shot or a hit, unable to get leverage for either. Grant swung a loose handcuff at his face and it connected with a crack that sent the sheriff's head snapping back against the wooden floor. Grant followed it with his fist, pounding Smith again and again until the sheriff lay motionless.

He came... This time he came....

Tess felt the last of her life fade, understanding the importance of Grant being there even as she accepted that he'd come too late. Slowly Grant stood and faced his brother. Caitlin waited between them.

"It's over," Grant said. "I'm ending it now."

"That sounds like a line from one of your shitty movies," Craig answered. His expression of fear blackened to a cruel rage. He charged his brother but just as Craig raised his knife and plunged it down, another shadow materialized at the door. With deadly accuracy, Hector Ochoa put a bullet through Craig's heart. The knife clattered to the floor.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Tess didn't remember the ambulance ride to the hospital or any of the days following it. Smith's gunshot had pierced her lung, missing her heart by only an inch. She regained consciousness only for brief moments that were punctuated by the sterile smell, the blinding brightness of the room, and the feeling that death was very near. She had no concept of how long she floundered in the black world of unconsciousness, but sometime during those vacant hours she came face to face with Molly.

"You have a life to live yet," Molly told her. As Tess tried to explain that she was tired, that she felt lost, a light cut through the darkness and standing on its fringes were Vanessa, Tori, her mother, Mrs. Imogene and Rosie. She searched for Adam, knowing that if she saw his face she would not need to return. But Adam was not there and another voice was calling to her, its timbre deep and worn from exhaustion but familiar and loved. Tess followed it.

She opened her eyes to Grant Weston sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, drawing her back to the living. Next to him was Caitlin, looking small and defenseless, yet resolutely whole. The three stared at one another, closing a circle that had been agape for too long. Finally Caitlin smiled and gently hugged Tess.

"I knew you'd come for me," she whispered.

"I knew I'd find you," Tess answered.

Neither offered an explanation. Neither ever spoke of it again. Whatever Grant made of the exchange, he too, kept to himself.