High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) (19 page)

“Someone wanted this baby to disappear,” James said. He didn't sit, but rather leaned against the wall beside the front door. “What purpose would that serve?”

Rebecca spoke without tearing her eyes from the child in her arms. “It would hurt Allison. Mrs. Fulton hates Allison. She would want to hurt her.”

“I can see that,” James replied. “She would pretend something had happened to the baby to make Allison sad. But then what? Where are they?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Allison is strong and stubborn. Those blood drops suggest she got out of bed and came down the stairs. Would Mrs. Fulton have tried to lure her somewhere?”

“To what end?” James asked.

“I don't know,” Rebecca replied. “I just don't know.”

At that moment, the door burst inwards and Wesley Fulton barreled into the house, sweaty and breathless.

“Rebecca? James?” He looked from one to the other, as though lost. “Is everything all right?”

“No, Wesley, it's not,” James replied. Rebecca was glad he'd taken over. She had no idea what to say. Her pragmatic husband saved the day. “Rebecca took Melissa earlier today, because Allison seemed to be going into labor.” James spared the younger man a disapproving glance. “She called on your mother, who came to watch over your wife. We stopped by a few minutes ago to see how everyone was doing, and we found… we found your son outside in the trash pile.”

“Son?” Wesley blinked. He approached Rebecca and looked down, first at her and then at the baby. “Oh, gracious. Is he all right?”

“He seems to be,” Rebecca replied softly. “He's sleeping now. He was cold and crying when we found him.”

Wesley scooped the baby into his arms. A crooked half-smile spread slowly across his face.

“Not now, Wes,” James snapped. “Your wife is missing. So is your mother. We have no idea where they've gone, or why they even left the house. Allison just gave birth. She shouldn't even be out of bed.”

Wesley's head shot up. “Gone?”

“Yes. There's blood everywhere and the front door was open. Think, man. What kind of mischief could your mother be up to?”

Another pair of boots pounded up the stairs and a man who could only be Wesley's father burst into the room. “Any kind of mischief,” the man replied grimly.

“But how do we find them before something terrible happens?” Rebecca demanded. “We have to get my sister back to bed before she injures herself.”
If it's not already too late. Please, God let it not be too late.

“Charlotte can be dangerous and violent. I don't doubt she could kill, if she was angry enough,” Wesley's father said.

“I think she may already have killed once,” James added. The eyes of the other three adults swiveled to him. “Think. She's unnaturally possessive of you, Wes. So when you married Samantha, didn't she do everything in her power to torment your wife?”

Wesley nodded.

“And we've all wondered what the hell Samantha was doing on the river in the winter. Even though she wasn't quite all there, she knew better than that. It might have been suicide, but what if she was lured, tricked? Wouldn't that also make sense?”

“Oh Lord,” Wesley groaned.

“Highly likely,” his father added.

Rebecca nodded. It did make terrible sense. “But Allison is in full possession of her senses. She's strong and she knows Mrs. Fulton isn't trustworthy. Why would she let herself be lured?”

“Why was her baby in the trash?” James retorted. “What other motivation could get your stubborn sister out of her childbirth bed? Only threat to someone she loves.”

The three men looked at each other. “Would she risk the river a second time?” James asked.

“Probably, since the first time succeeded,” Andrew replied.

Wesley gently returned his son to Rebecca's arms. The sound of his shoes clattering down the porch steps reverberated before she was aware he was moving. Andrew stared for a split second and then pounded after his son.

“James,” Rebecca snared her husband with a glance. “You bring my sister home safe to me, you promise?”

“I'll do everything I can,” he replied. And then she was alone with her sister's new baby and stepdaughter. With tears streaming down her face, Rebecca began to pray as she'd never prayed before.

Over the roar of the water, a faint mewling was still audible, emerging from the squirming bundle clutched in Mrs. Fulton's arms.

“Mother, please,” Allison said in a calm, soft voice. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of something unwanted,” the older woman sneered. The moisture in the air had caused her steel-colored hair to escape its pins and curl into a wild nimbus around her head. A manic light shone behind the metal frames of her glasses.

“He's not unwanted,” Allison replied. “I want him.”

“Wesley doesn't.”

The truth of those harsh words tore at Allison's heart. When she met the mad eyes again, it was through a veil of tears. “That might be true, but he's my son too. Please, Mrs. Fulton, don't do this. Give me back my baby.”

Mrs. Fulton regarded Allison for a long moment, head tilted as though considering. She took a deep breath and said, “No, I don't think I will.” Then she tossed the bundle over the waist-high railing, into the swirling river.

The men raced out between the houses on the edge of town and arrived at the Arkansas River Bridge, just in time to see Wesley's mother toss a white bundle into the river. Time seemed to slow as Wesley took in the terrifying scene of his wife, clad in a red-stained nightgown, take a step towards the railing and then another. Her screams echoed across the landscape, perfectly audible despite the roar of the water. The swollen river churned against the pylons of the bridge and the surrounding rocks. If she went in, there would be no finding her. It felt as though wings had been strapped to his feet, for the burst of previously unknown speed he put on. He all but flew across the muddy, uneven ground toward the bridge. His shoes slipped and skidded on the wet boards as he skated across a film of water to reach his wife just as she placed one foot on the waist-high rail. He snagged her around the waist and dragged her back, tumbling both of them to the ground.

“Allie, no!” he shouted. She struggled in his grip. He tightened his arms, pinning her. “Stop!”

“Let me go! Let go!” she shrieked, trying to wrench herself free.

“Stop it, Allie. Allison, listen to me!”

“The baby! She threw the baby in the river. Let me go, Wes!” She was heedless, unable to calm herself.

“She didn't,” he said. “Allison!” He wasn't getting through. Her panic was too great. He sat up, lifting her into his lap. His grip on her shoulders was fierce enough to leave bruises, but he didn't dare let her go. He gave her a little shake. “Allie, listen. The baby is fine. He's at the house with your sister. Mother tricked you. The baby is fine.”

At last her eyes began to focus. “Wesley?” Though she'd said his name a moment ago, it seemed as though she was realizing for the first time that he was there.

“Yes, Allison. I'm here.” He relaxed his crushing grip and enfolded her in a warm embrace. “I've got you, love.”

“The baby's fine?” Allison asked, in a tiny, wavering voice.

“Yes, honey. He's perfectly well. We found him at the house. Rebecca has him and Melissa, they're both fine.”

Allison inhaled and it sounded like a sob. “She had something. It was making sounds like a baby. I thought…” At last, she was overcome, and great, choking tears bowled her under. Wesley cradled her against his body. She was soaked and shivering.

“It was probably a cat.” At the sound of another masculine voice, both Wesley and Allison looked up. Andrew was standing over them, his features grim. “She always did hate cats.”

Movement caught Wesley's eye and he turned to see James approaching. Wesley turned Allison in his arms, shielding her body from his brother-in-law's sight. The thin white nightgown, wet as it was, provided nothing like decency.

“Andrew?” Heads swiveled towards Mrs. Fulton. In the commotion, Wesley had forgotten she was there.

“What kind of mischief are you up to, Charlotte?” Those eyes, which looked so much like Wesley's own, narrowed in anger as his father glared at his mother. Wesley's gaze went from one to the other. Could he remember ever seeing them together? Perhaps, but it was vague. “What were you hoping to accomplish? Have you become a murderer, Charlotte?”

“She has,” James said. “I bet she orchestrated Samantha's death. Didn't you, Mrs. Fulton?”

“She deserved what she got. That stupid slut made my Wesley miserable.” The venom in each word could have poisoned a buffalo.

“Whose choice was it to marry her, Mother?” Wesley asked. “She didn't put a pistol to my head. Did you really kill her?” He hated to think it, though it did make some sense. It would explain why Samantha had been out by the river at all. “How did you lure her out onto the ice?”

Mrs. Fulton ignored the question.

“Allison is a good woman,” James said. “She doesn't deserve this.”

“She's a slut, just like the other one. Did you notice how quickly she got with child? Bet she already was. Wesley, can't you leave the tramps alone, darling?” The sudden syrupy sweetness of his mother's voice set Wesley's teeth on edge. “She must be a witch. She must have cast a spell on my baby boy, to make him act this way.”

Wesley shook his head. “No, Mother. Allison is no witch. I love her. I've always loved her. You know that. Come on, gentlemen, let's go.”

Wesley rose to his feet, setting Allison down for a moment to adjust their positions. He would no more let her walk barefoot through the mud than he would let her go into the river.

In that split second Mrs. Fulton pounced, grabbing Allison by the arm and dragging her back in the direction of the railing. In an act born of pure instinct, Wesley tightened his hold on his wife's waist and pivoted, shielding her body with his own and pushing out with one arm. His movement caught his mother across the throat and sent her reeling backwards.

Her high-heeled boots skidded on the wet wood and she stumbled. Her movement brought her in contact with the railing of the bridge. In an instant she was inverted, feet up, head down, screeching as she tipped into the eddying water below. Her screams abruptly cut off. The water closed over her and she could be seen no more.

Wesley stared at the place where his mother had disappeared. In this flood, it was unlikely she would found, and any attempt to retrieve her would endanger the rescuer. It only took a second to decide what to do.

“James, please get the doctor. Allison has lost a lot of blood and I'm worried about her.” Agony speared through his heart, but he scooped his wife into his arms nonetheless. “I'm taking her home to bed. Father… would you please get Sheriff Brody? He's going to need to search for… for the body.” Wesley's voice wavered, but he stiffened his resolve and stalked back towards town, carrying his wife home.

For the next week, Allison hardly moved from the bed. The doctor was understandably quite concerned. She'd lost far more blood than was good for her, and he was worried she might have damaged her uterine or abdominal muscles with so much running. So she'd been cleaned up and tucked under a warm quilt, her baby at her side. Rebecca, Kristina, and Mrs. Spencer, when she returned from her trip, took turns caring for Melissa, cooking, and cleaning the house while Wesley was at work, allowing the new mother to rest and recover, and connect with her son. As she'd hoped, Wesley had no objection to the name she'd chosen, and so little Peter Andrew Fulton and his mother snuggled together by the hour. After fearing she'd lost the baby to a madwoman's evil schemes, she would in no way be parted from him, and he stayed beside her day and night.

The Saturday after Allison's ordeal, she lay asleep late into the morning, following a restless night with little Peter. Rebecca and James had taken Melissa to their house for a few hours, so Wesley had a quiet moment alone with his wife and son. Sadly, Allison was out cold. His son was watching him with solemn blue eyes, however, and Wesley couldn't help gathering him up and taking a seat on the rocking chair.

“Now then, my good man,” he said formally, in a murmuring undertone, “your mother has earned this nap, and you and I are going to let her take it. A gentleman always takes care of his lady, and you've been a bit hard on mine lately.”

Peter blinked. He had a knowing expression on his funny little-old-man face. “I hope you grow some baby fat soon,” Wesley quipped. “I've seen handsomer fellows.”

The baby sneezed.

“Bless you. Well, I can see I was wrong about you. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to open my heart to more people, but clearly I was. I can see myself in you, and my dad too. You're a Fulton man, and it's going to be my job to teach you what that means. I hope you have a head for numbers. I have expectations of you. You're going to get a good education and I hope you'll take over my place at the bank someday. Of course, you might prefer a different profession. That would be fine, too. Maybe someday, you'll have a brother who can be a banker if you don't want to. That is, if your mother will forgive me. I've been… a bit of an ass lately, and I would deserve it if she didn't.”

“Yes, you have,” Allison said in a quiet, neutral voice.

“I know,” Wesley replied, meeting his wife's eyes with a mournful expression. “You deserve better than what I've done to you and I regret it.”

“I understand,” Allison said, but there was not one hint of softening in her voice.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked. “Please tell me.”

“Tell me what you did wrong, Wesley, so I know you understand and aren't just trying to get back in my good graces with nice words. Tell me what you're not going to do again.”

“Forgive me, love. I need a moment to think about how to say this the right way.”

She nodded. From his perch on his father's lap, Peter squealed.

“Argh,” Allison growled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What's wrong?” Wesley demanded, alarmed by the sudden noise.

“Nothing. Please bring me the baby.”

Wesley positioned his son on his shoulder and carefully rose, crossing the room in a few long-legged strides and handing Peter off to Allison. She fumbled with the front of the nightgown Rebecca had made for her and opened the buttons to bare her breast. Wesley watched in unabashed fascination as milk beaded on the rosy tip. She positioned the baby and Peter opened wide, covering his mother's nipple and clamping down eagerly. Allison sighed in relief.

“Does that hurt?” Wesley asked, taking a seat on the bed beside his wife and stroking a strand of tousled golden hair from her forehead.

“It did at first,” she replied, “but not so much now. It tingles when…” She looked away.

“When?”

“When the milk comes in. It feels like needles. Don't you already know this?”

He shook his head. “Samantha was embarrassed to let me see her this way. She didn't want me to look. She also weaned Melissa to cow's milk as quickly as she could.” He thought about saying something else, something uncomplimentary, but decided against it. Samantha was gone, and Allison had been right when she'd reminded him to keep what had been good about his first marriage and let the rest go. It was part of his life, of his past, of mistakes he'd made, of the lessons he'd learned. They'd both done their best under bad circumstances. And now Samantha was at peace. It was time for him to allow some to come to him.

He slipped his hand behind Allison and cuddled close to her side, watching their son eat, just as she was doing. As one they reached out and traced the soft, downy hair. Their hands met. Wesley laced his fingers through Allison's and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckle.

“What I did wrong,” he said slowly, measuring his words, “was to let my past get in the way of our life together. I let my mother's view of you influence my behavior. I should have married you when we were twenty, and found some way to make it work. It would have been fine. I should have chased Samantha away. And I should have taken my time with you after Samantha's death. Instead, I let a series of small decisions snowball into a colossal mess, and you had to bear the bulk of the burden.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. He nudged even closer to her, and his arm tightened around her. She leaned her head over, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He smiled.
This feels right.

“All those things are in the past and couldn't be changed. But after our marriage, I should have put those ghosts away. I should have made myself remember that you are not Samantha. You kept reminding me, but I let old habits creep into my new marriage. I kept hearing things in the back of my mind. My mother telling me you were trash. I never knew why she said that, but I've heard it my whole life. Even though I never believed it…” he didn't know what to say next.

“Why did she say that, Wesley?” Peter finished and let go. One tiny fist remained clenched tight, the other had relaxed. Allison extracted her hand from Wesley's and positioned the baby on the other breast. He continued eating eagerly.

He shrugged, grief spearing his guts again.
She was a crazy, mean-spirited excuse for a woman. That doesn't make her any less my mother
. “Mom seemed to have lost her mind when I was born. She became dangerous and unstable. I didn't remember until my father told me, but he took me away when I was seven. Do you remember that time, Allie?”

“Remember the year when my best friend disappeared? How could I forget?” Allison replied. “I was so happy when you came back. But my mother told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to ask you a single question about it, on pain of a lashing.” She smiled ruefully.
Mrs. Spencer's lashing were nothing to take lightly,
Wesley thought. Goodness knew, he'd gotten a couple himself. “But why…”

“She found us,” he replied, amusement fading to grimness. “Threatened to kill me if she couldn't have me back. Father agreed – reluctantly – on the condition that your parents keep an eye on the situation and report back to him.”

“So they were his spies?” Allison appeared thunderstruck.

He nodded.

“Well that explains it all, doesn't it?” She rolled her eyes. “What a disaster.”

“It was,” he agreed. “It's no wonder she both hated you, and let me play with you anyway.”

“And all the while, said condescending things about me, about my family, when you were alone?”

Wesley nodded.

Allison considered for a moment. “So you let your mother affect your opinion of me and your experiences with Samantha color your expectations. Is that right?”

“I think so,” Wesley replied.

“And what about Peter? Why did you not want him? Why did my being pregnant make you pull away from us both?” she demanded.

Wesley lowered his gaze from his wife's angry blue eyes to his son's face. Wrinkles, turkey neck and all, Peter still looked angelic.

“I was stupid,” Wesley said bluntly. “I didn't want the complication. I was just settling into life with a normal wife. Melissa was improving, acting like a normal child. I thought maybe, just for a while, I could take a breath and adjust to being happy. And then you got pregnant.” He squeezed her. “And you weren't your usual sweet, forgiving self. Sorry, honey, but you were a bit… grumpy. I know!” She had given him an evil look. “I know you were sick and miserable, and I know my attitude didn't help. But I was just hoping for a moment to be selfish and bask in your affection, and suddenly it was all turned inward. But when I look at our boy, I don't regret it. I mean, I must have the strongest wife in all of Kansas. Who else would have gotten up an hour after giving birth and chased a crazy woman through the streets? You risked your life to protect our baby. Allison, you're amazing.” He kissed her forehead. “I don't deserve you, or Melissa, or Peter, but I love all three of you more than words can say. Will you please forgive me, Allison? Let's bury the past and work towards being a family again, can we?”

Allison looked up into Wesley's eyes with a fathomless, unreadable expression. The moment uncoiled, stretched out in silence as the pain of the last year, of the last several years passed over her expression. Every flash of sorrow lanced through Wesley's heart, each like the blow of a bowie knife. She sniffled and at last spoke.

“All right.”

Wesley beamed and a cautious smile spread across Allison's face. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, sealing the bargain with a perfect, tender kiss.