Judith E French (18 page)

“I was drunk, Caity, but not that drunk. Somebody put a knife into her, but it wasn’t me.”

Relief made her knees weak. Her husband was mortal, with all the failings of flesh and blood, but he was no monster.

Caitlin tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, “Who did murder Cerise?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, nobody does. I saw the shadow of a man as he escaped out her bedroom window.”

“And you were blamed?”

“By some people. Earl Thompson for sure. Not by Fat Rose, and not by the law.”

“What about Justice?” she asked. “Does he have any idea what happened?”

“I don’t know. He was asleep in the attic. Cerise never liked him in her room. He doesn’t talk about the night his mother died. Not a word.”

“He worships you, Shane. He’d not do that if he thought you killed his mother.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Justice had a strange relationship with Cerise. They weren’t like any mother and son you’ve ever known. Maybe she wasn’t capable of being a good mother.”

“Well, he has a good father now,” Caitlin said.

“I try, Caity. Trouble is, I never had a decent one myself. It’s like the first time I got on an unbroken horse. Eventually I learned to ride him, but I took a lot of spills along the way.” Shane shuffled his boot heel along the ground, much as Caitlin had seen Justice do when the child was frustrated. “I want to do right by him. I promised his mother I would.”

Caitlin, moved by his concern for the boy, touched Shane’s arm lightly. “Maybe bringing me here was wrong for Justice. He hates me.”

“He’ll come around.”

“I’ve tried everything I can think of. What if he never accepts me? Can we be a family if he doesn’t? Or will there come a time when you start to resent me as much as he does?”

“He’s a good kid, Caity. But he’s got strange ways. I didn’t see much of him when his mother was alive. She sent him off to live with his Indian relatives a lot. After he came to Kilronan, he went nearly two months without speakin’ a word to me. Gabe he took to, right off. And when Mary came, the two of them were easy with each other. And then, inch by inch, like gentlin’ a wild colt, I got closer to him. Somebody treated him hard, and gettin’ past that takes a lot of patience.”

“But if he had an Indian family, why didn’t they take him?”

“Cerise wanted me to do it.”

“Have you talked to them? Let him visit—”

“I don’t want anything to do with them. Cerise had something against her kin. I don’t know them, and I don’t want to.”

“And?” She held his gaze without wavering. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I want him to forget his mother. I want to forget her. Any relative of hers would just make it harder to do that.”

For a few minutes they stood there side by side, and then Shane motioned to the animals. “We’d best get back in the saddle, Caity. There’s more I want you to see.”

As they rode on, Caitlin tried not to dwell on what Shane had told her about Cerise and the child they had made together. That was in the past, and nothing could change what had happened. What mattered now, she told herself, was what she and Shane could build together.

Shane’s joy in his land was evident, and his enthusiasm was hard to resist. He seemed more open than he had been since she’d arrived, and they were able to share easy conversation about simple things that had happened in the past week.

“Derry wants a cat,” Caitlin said. “Did you know that? The captain of the riverboat had an orange calico, and Derry was fascinated by it. I thought I’d have to carry her off the boat in a trunk to keep her from stealing that cat.”

“A cat, is it?” Shane arched a dark brow and chuckled. “I mind the tomcat your father kept, the black one. It hissed at me whenever I came anywhere near it.”

“Noah? He wouldn’t hurt a flea. He was terrified of mice.” She smiled at Shane. “Derry’s got a name all picked out. She wants to call her cat McKenna.”

“That little colleen is one of a kind.”

“She calls you Papa; did you know that?”

“Does she?” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he reined his buckskin close to Caitlin’s mule. “I’d give her my name. You’ve only to say the word.”

Caitlin tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. “And if I did, Shane, would that mean I’m admitting she’s a child of my body? Must we fight this battle—”

“No. I could lie to you and tell you that I believe your damned story about Derry, but I won’t. My own mother lied to my father about Kevin their whole life.”

“Isn’t it possible that—”

“Show me a five-month’s babe born alive with hair and fingernails, and I’ll show you a piece of the true cross.”

“So I’m to be condemned for your mother’s folly?”

“Nope. I’ll not condemn you, Caity. I just won’t swallow what can’t go down.”

She blinked back fresh tears. “You make it difficult for me—”

“Watch Bessie’s head. Pull up on the reins,” Shane ordered. They were approaching a fast-running creek with a steep bank on the far side. “Pay attention, Caity. The creek is low. In a flood it can spill over these banks and take out hundred-year-old trees, but now it’s barely up to your mule’s knees.”

Caitlin gritted her teeth as he guided his horse into the water ahead of her. How could they ever settle their differences so long as Shane believed her a cheat and a liar? It was all useless. Shane was impossible.

He twisted in the saddle and shouted back. “Let Bessie pick her own way over the rocks. She’s surefooted.”

Caitlin held tight to the front of the saddle as the mule shifted her hip and slid into a hole in the creek bottom. Caitlin gasped as water splashed up over her boot tops and wet her skirt, but just when she thought Bessie’s legs would crumble under her, the animal struggled up into the shallows. Shane’s horse was already out of the stream and climbing the rocky incline on the far side.

Caitlin leaned forward on the mule’s withers as Bessie leaped forward and charged up the creek bank. A section of soil slid away under Bessie’s front feet, but the mule
plunged ahead. They’d nearly caught up with Shane when Caitlin heard an odd noise.

The sound wasn’t loud, just a dull rattle that could have been loose seeds in a dried gourd. But in the split second before Bessie exploded under her, Caitlin’s mouth parched with fear. Shane’s horse reared up, and Caitlin’s scream was drowned in Bessie’s bray of fright.

The mule sprang straight in the air, ears laid back, head jerked up at an impossible angle. Her forelegs slammed into the earth, jarring Caitlin’s teeth and making her see stars.

Caitlin fell forward onto the mule’s withers and hung on as the animal jumped sideways, kicked again, and broke into a dead run.

Terrified, Caitlin clung to the reins and concentrated on keeping her seat. Rocks and trees sped by at an alarming rate. Bessie’s hooves threw up so much dust that Caitlin could barely keep her eyes open. At any second she expected to be thrown to the ground or smashed against a tree. One foot came out of the stirrup, but she locked her fingers into Bessie’s close-cropped mane and wouldn’t let go.

Gradually the mule’s breathing became labored, and she slowed her breakneck pace to a ragged gallop and finally a spine-crunching trot. When she tapered off into a walk, Caitlin got up the courage to pull on the only rein she had left.

Bessie plodded obediently in a circle.

“Whoa,” Caitlin pleaded. “Whoa, girl.”

The mule stopped short and hung her head.

Caitlin cautiously slid out of the saddle. Her boots touched the grass, but her legs refused to hold her. She kept sliding until she was sitting on the ground, nearly under the mule.

Bessie didn’t move. Her dark hide was soaked with sweat, and foam dribbled from her open mouth. Her white-rimmed eyes were bloodshot, and her long ears drooped forward limply.

“Poor old girl,” Caitlin murmured. Adrenaline still raced through her body. She knew she should be afraid, but she wasn’t—not for herself. All she could think of was Shane. Had he been thrown? Had the snake bitten him? It must have been a rattlesnake, she decided. What else could have panicked the animals so? What if the snake—

A horse’s high-pitched whinny caught her attention. “Shane!” she called. She scrambled up and looked around. Shane’s horse trotted toward her through a grove of trees, but the saddle was empty. “Shane?” His name came out in a croak.

Keeping one hand on Bessie’s reins, Caitlin reached out to catch Shane’s gelding. The horse didn’t seem to be hurt, other than a pair of skinned knees. His chest was wet and his eyes wild, but if the snake had bitten him, it didn’t show.

“Where’s Shane?” she demanded irrationally of the animal. If he was hurt or dead … An awful numbness spilled through her.

She had to find him, but she didn’t even know which way to go. Dragging both animals by the reins, she started back toward the trees where she’d first seen Shane’s buckskin.

She’d reached the stand of oaks when she heard him call her name. “Caity?”

Her fear turned to joy as she saw him. “Shane! Here! I’m here!” she shouted back. Tears blurred her eyes. Instinct demanded she run to him, but her knees were too weak to carry her.

“Caity! Are you all right?”

No man who could run like that was badly injured, she decided in the last seconds before he swept her off her feet.

“Caity.”

She wanted to tell him that she was fine. She wanted to ask him if he’d fallen off his horse. But suddenly all that mattered was that she was in his arms, and that he was kissing her as she’d never been kissed before.

“I couldn’t stand it if I lost you,” Shane said when he stopped kissing her long enough to take a breath.

She snuggled closer, savoring the sweet music of those words. “I feel the same,” she answered softly. “I was afraid that the snake had killed you.”

“That rattler was probably halfway to Oregon country by the time I hit the ground. Poor old diamondback, just sunnin’ hisself on a rock, mindin’ his own business when he looks up and sees Cherokee’s hooves coming toward his head.”

“Who?”

“Cherokee. My buckskin. My best horse—the one I told you that you couldn’t have.” He tilted her chin up and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve a fine nose, Mrs. McKenna,” he teased. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You never told me your horse had a name.” Shane trailed a ribbon of light kisses up to her eyelids, and she uttered a small sigh of delight. “That tickles.”

“You never asked me if he had a name.” He planted a caress against the left corner of her mouth and then gently nibbled her lower lip. “There are … lots of questions … you’ve never … asked me.”

Thrilled, she pressed closer to him. She wanted to pinch herself to see if this was really happening, or if
she’d conjured it up out of a dream. And now that she was wrapped in Shane’s strong arms, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Such as … how did your horse throw you?”

“You’re a cruel woman,” he pronounced. “And I wasn’t thrown. I bailed out when Cherokee switched ends and started fallin’ backwards on top of me.” He groaned. “It didn’t do a damn thing for my sore ribs. They must be just cracked. If they were broken and I’d hit the ground that hard, I’d be pushin’ up clover.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” She reached up to stroke his face, running her fingers over his high cheekbones and tracing the curve of his brows. He had shaved that morning, but already a tiny stubble of gold had sprung up on his face; she liked the feel of it against her skin.

“Never ask a horseman how he was tossed off.” Shane caressed the nape of her neck, sending shivers of anticipation through her. Then he kissed her again, so thoroughly that she forgot her fear of the snake and Shane’s tumble off his horse. All she could think of was the way he was touching her and that she didn’t want this embrace to end.

“Caity.” His breathing deepened, as though he’d run a long way, and he fumbled with the linen stock at her throat. “Caity … let me love you.”

“Yes … yes.” She strained against him. She wanted more, wanted to be so close to him that she wouldn’t know where she stopped and Shane began.

His kisses became demanding, urgent, feeding the flames of the heat inside her. “Caity, girl.” He groaned. “I want—”

The sound of a gunshot cut through his words.

“Son of a bitch!” He stiffened and pushed her reluctantly away. “Talk about bad timin’.” Instantly alert, he
looked around and ran to his buckskin to yank his rifle from the saddle scabbard.

“No …” She was stunned, aching for more. “What’s wrong?”

“That was gunfire.”

Her heart was still racing, and she felt weak inside, but whether it was from fright or disappointment, she couldn’t say.

All traces of desire and tenderness had vanished from Shane’s hard features. “Stay where you are!” he warned as he mounted his horse, wheeled Cherokee around, and drove his boot heels into the gelding’s sides.

“Shane, wait!” she protested. “What if something’s happened to Derry? I want to come with you!”

But he was already too far away to hear her.

“Shane!” she shouted again. “You can’t …”

She exhaled sharply. “He can’t keep doing that to me. If he thinks I’m going to spend the rest of our married life waiting while he tends to trouble, he’s got another thought coming.”

Shane hadn’t been with her in County Clare when she’d had to arrange her father’s funeral, and he hadn’t been there when she’d faced down a dozen starving beggars intent on ransacking her house.

She hadn’t survived by waiting for a man to come to her rescue. And she wouldn’t last long in the wilderness if she played the Dublin miss.

The question was, could she get on this abominable creature without assistance? With a shrug, she decided that there was only one way to find out.

“Easy, Bessie,” Caitlin coaxed as she approached the mule. “Nice beast. Pretty girl,” she lied.

Bessie flicked her ears, and her bulging eyes took on a malicious gleam.

“Good mule,” Caitlin soothed as she seized the reins. Bessie pawed the grass with one hoof. “Stand still.”

The mule backed up a few paces, nearly yanking the leather reins from Caitlin’s hands.