Her Outlaw (29 page)

“How long do you have, MacRae?” Logan asked quietly.

“I’m not certain. I was supposed to have another couple of months, but the way it seems to be progressing…I just don’t know.”

“Shit!” Cade shook off Holt’s arm, grabbed the knife from the sheath at his hip and sent it sailing, end over end, into a helpless tree. “I can’t believe this shit. You’re just giving up? You’re just gonna roll over and die?”

“What choice do I have?” Dair shot back. He stalked across to the tree, grabbed the knife hilt and yanked the blade from the wood. He mimicked Cade’s action, sending the knife flying at another tree. “It’s not like I woke up one day and said I think I’ll grow a brain tumor.”

Holt closed his eyes. Cade sat back down and gripped his knee until his knuckles turned white. Logan spat an ugly epithet, then said, “Hell, Dair. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me you’ll think about Emma.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Does she know you’re asking us to do this?”

“I haven’t told her that I’m…sick.”

“Good Lord,” Holt muttered.

“That’s downright cruel.” Cade shook his head.

“You’re bein’ a real shit leading her on like you are,” Logan added.

“Look. I’m going to tell her, just not today because I don’t want to spoil her birthday. I’ll tell her tomorrow. I’ll sit her down and ask her to oversee the children’s home. I’ll tell her I’ve put all the bank accounts in her name. My plan is to leave two of you here with her to watch over the children and over her. The other one I’ll ask to go with me to my mother’s place. I expect to find the killer there. If he’s already found the Sisters’ Prize, we’ll see signs of it, I’m certain. If he hasn’t found it, he’ll be there looking.”

“Any idea who he could be?”

“I’ve wracked my brains, and the only thing I’m certain about is that it has to be someone I know.”

Logan folded his arms. “So it’ll be shoot on sight, more than likely. You’d better take me with you, Dair. I’m the fastest gun amongst us. I’m not having anyone cheat you out of any time you have left.”

Dair nodded. Time was his biggest enemy right now. That and his own cowardice, perhaps. He’d almost rather meet his maker right now than tell Emma the truth. He cleared his throat. “So, what do you think?

Cade shook his head. “A man would have to be a fool not to think about your Emma, Dair, but the fact of the matter is, she
is
your Emma. If she’s as special a person as you say she is, then she’s not going to change men like a new bonnet.”

“Not right away, she won’t. I know that. It’ll take her some time to be ready again. But I think she’ll be ready faster if one of you has been watching over her, waiting in the wings, as it were.”

“Why us?”

“Because you’re good men. Honorable men. Look, I’m not saying you’re good enough for her—no one is—but one of you will be exactly what she needs.”

“Again, why?”

“It’s the Bad Luck tradition. Emma and her sisters are sometimes called the Bad Luck Brides. Emma’s first husband died. The next man she gets close to does the same thing. The whole family is steeped in bad luck, to be truthful. Emma will need to feel very secure to risk dipping her toe back in the bridal pond.”

“For good reason.”

“Not if she’s dipping that toe with one of you. Face it, if the McBride sisters are the Bad Luck Brides, then the three of you can damn well be called the Good Luck Grooms.”

All three men groaned, but Dair pressed ahead. “It’s true. Holt, look at you. You’re Mr. Nine Lives yourself. How many gun battles, knife fights and barroom brawls have you broken up? Hundreds? Maybe even a thousand? And how many times have you been wounded? None. Not a single time. Cade sent me that article from the
San Antonio Times
where the reporter wrote that bullets all but bounce off you.”

“That’s just talk,” Holt protested.

Dair turned to Cade. “And what about you? You admit to having a sixth sense when it comes to finding missing people. You admit to being lucky. How often have I heard you say that the reason you were successful first as a Pinkerton agent and now on your own is because you’re lucky?”

“I’ve never been lucky in love,” Cade pointed out.

“Have you ever tried?” Dair snapped back.

“He has you there,” Logan commented.

Dair turned on him. “And you. How many people other than me still use your proper first name? You’re Lucky Logan. The man who never loses at cards. Never bets on the wrong horse. If Lucky Logan tells you to do something, the smart man takes his word. If the three of you aren’t the luckiest men in Texas, then I’m not a train robber.”

“Ah, hell, Dair,” said Texas Ranger Holt Driscoll. “Are you still doing that stuff? Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Dair waved that away. “Look, I’m not asking for a commitment. I’m asking for the possibility of a commitment. For her sake and for yours. I’ve watched out for you boys for most of my life and for some strange reason I like you. I want you to be happy. The next man who wins Emma’s heart…he’ll be the luckiest man in the world. I just want her to have a chance. She deserves a husband, a family. I’m about to put her through a second wave of hell, and I’m not proud of it. But if one of you is willing to help me, at least I can die knowing she’ll be taken care of. That’s why I’m betting on one of you—as long as you give her half a chance. Hell, consider it my last request.” A sad smile played on his lips as he added, “I’d ask Nana Nellie to make me fried chicken if I could, but….”

His words trailed off into silence as the men sat each lost in his own thoughts. Dair was reminded of the last time the four of them had assembled in this spot. It was the night before he’d fled Texas, two steps ahead of the law. Mid-winter, the night had been bitter cold, and with lawmen waiting back at the Home, a fire had been too much to risk. Little more than boys, they’d spoken of their dreams, their hopes for the future. The one thing they’d all had in common was the desire to have a home. A real home.

Over the years, Dair had all but given up on that dream. Now it was within reach, only he wouldn’t be around to enjoy it. What a load of bad luck that was.

Bad luck.
Ah, hell, Emma. I wish your fairy tale was more than fantasy.

“So,” he said, figuring they’d had enough time to chew on his news. “Can I count on you? All of you?”

The sour expressions told him none of them liked the idea, but to a man, they owed him. They might resist for a while. Might fight it. But unless they had other commitments elsewhere, other women no one had bothered to mention, they’d come round. And once they agreed, once they gave him their word, it was gold. Emma’s future would be one worry off his mind.

“She isn’t going to like it,” Logan observed.

“She doesn’t have to know. Not about this. This is something we all need to keep to ourselves. Otherwise, she’ll throw you out on your ears just out of spite.”

Cade, Logan and Holt all shared an unhappy look. Holt asked, “Do you have a…uh…favorite? Do you want her with one of us more than another?”

He didn’t want Emma with any of them. “You are all good men. I figure that part will work itself out.”

“It’s a stupid idea, Dair,” Logan snapped.

“Nevertheless…”

“Hell. Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll look out for her, anyway. Anything more than that, well, it has to be her choice.”

“Fair enough.” Dair looked at Cade.

Wincing, he agreed. “Yeah, me, too.”

Holt nodded. “Oh, all right. For you, MacRae. Only for you.”

A weight rolled off Dair’s shoulders and he tried his best to ignore the pain that plagued his heart. It was the best he could do for her. Someday, he hoped, she’d appreciate it. Maybe after she’d been married to one of these yahoos for ten, fifteen, twenty-five years.

The men returned to the house and pitched in with chores. Though they tried to hide it, their moods remained somber. The morning passed quickly and when the children were on the verge of mutiny, Dair declared it time for the party to begin.

The youngsters bickered over which game to play first—Blind Man’s Bluff or baseball. They called upon Emma to settle the matter. She made a show of considering the question, then shot Dair a gleeful look. “Baseball sounds perfect. I call dibs on pitching.”

“Well, hell,” Dair muttered. He bet his bank account that she was recalling the bloody nose he’d received the last time he’d played baseball with women and children.

Emma exaggerated the swing of her hips as she walked toward the cotton field where the children indicated the game would be played. The men trailed behind her. “Something tells me this game is gonna be fun,” Logan observed.

It was torture.

It was payback. Impure and far from simple.

Dair suffered through three innings of a pitching performance that made Kat McBride’s shenanigans at Chatham Park look innocent. He saw Holt nearly swallow his tongue the first time he witnessed her fast pitch wind up.

Dair agonized through a game of Blind Man’s Bluff where he knew damn well she somehow peeked through the blindfold. What else could explain her “accidental” exploration of Cade’s chest, Holt’s shoulders, and dammit-tohell, Logan’s ass. That bit of boldness she’d practiced by the lake last night obviously had taken.

Even the picnic lunch was a trial. Batted lashes and wiggling hips were bad enough. Did she have to keep licking her fingers that way? When she made such a show savoring her birthday cake, it was all he could do not to put her over his knee and spank her. The little witch.

Dair knew it would only get worse. He’d confessed his love at night, then failed to mention it in the light of day. She was mad as hell at him, and he couldn’t blame her. Just wait until she found out about the rest of his plans.

Good thing he’d bought her the birthday present. Might be the only thing that kept her from killing him herself.

He waited until after supper to approach her and ask her to take a walk with him. The scathing look she gave him told him she thought he was wanting sex. Well, he did. Of course he did. What red-blooded man wouldn’t, especially after last night?

But he had no intention of pursuing it. He’d said his goodbyes last night and they’d ended with perfection. It was a good way to go out.

So why did it hurt like hell? Being close to her, smelling the sunshine scent of her hair. Hearing the giggles she shared with the children. The intimate memories of last night. He should just shoot himself and be done with it. Love hurt worse than any damned brain tumor.

“Just a walk, Emma. I’m not blind to your feelings.”

Her reluctance to go was obvious, so he held out his hand and said, “Please? I need to walk with you, Texas.”

With an ungracious sigh, she removed her apron and sailed toward the door, her chin up, her shoulders back. “A short one.”

Dair grinned at her back, waiting until she’d turned toward the path to the swimming hole to call, “Not that way, Texas. We need to go by the barn first.”

She rolled her eyes, sighed again, and altered her route. Dair lengthened his stride to catch up with her, and without speaking, they walked side-by-side toward the barn. Upon reaching it, rather than leading her inside, Dair steered her around back. In addition to being a beautiful scene—three fine horses in a corral set against a backdrop of a thick forest and the vermillion and gold of a Texas sunset—it was a private spot out of sight of the house and the dormitory cabins.

“Wait here a moment, Emma. I have a birthday gift for you.”

Suspicion lurked in her beautiful blue eyes. “Honestly? If it involves nakedness, you can forget it. I’m not interested. You treated me like…why are you ashamed of me, Dair? Ashamed of us?”

“Ashamed!” The hurt in her eyes twisted his heart in two. “Emma, I’m not ashamed of you.”

“Then what do you call your performance this morning? You gave your friends no indication of our relationship. Not one word. My friend, Emma Tate, schoolteacher extraordinaire. You might as well have said I can cook and have a good sense of humor. Isn’t that what men say about woman they don’t want romantically?”

Dair closed his eyes against the pain in hers. “I want you. You’ll never know how much.”

“Then why treat me like a secret?”

“Can I just give you your gift? It’s your birthday.” Weariness bled into his tone as he added, “I don’t want to argue.”

“There is only one thing I want, Dair. You know what it is. I want you. Us. I want a life with you. A future—”

Unable to bear any more, he put his finger to her lips. “I wanted to give you something special, Emma. Since you only gave me a day’s notice, my choices were limited, but I want you to know, this gift truly comes from my heart.”

“Oh, Dair.” She wrapped her arms around herself. He could tell she was trying to stay mad at him, but was weakening. Because she loved him. “Sometimes I simply don’t understand you.”

That’s because she didn’t know he planned to destroy her love, destroy her hopes, in the morning. Dair had a lump in his throat the size of her ruby necklace. This was so damned hard. Gruffly, he said, “You don’t have to understand me. Just…let me give you your birthday present?”

She shrugged and turned her attention to the horses, leaning up against the corral’s wooden railing. Dair wanted so badly to kiss her. He almost reached for her. He almost took her in his arms and crushed her to him. Instead, he disappeared inside the barn.

A crate sat inside a long unused horse stall. Inside the crate, her gift lay sleeping. The puppy was a chubby ball of white fluff no bigger than a rabbit with a little yip of a bark and a tail that never stopped wagging when he was awake. Sure enough, when Dair reached inside and picked the puppy up, the tail started swinging even before his eyes opened.

Dair shook his head at his own foolishness. Considering their circumstances, giving her a dog was probably one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. But when he’d walked into the mercantile yesterday looking for a gift and he’d heard the merchant trying to give the last of a four-pup litter away, he’d acted on instinct.

Emma would love this dog. She’d have something to play with, something to care for, to mother. She’d love this pup long after Dair was gone.