Lorraine Heath (17 page)

“Sure, especially if your Uncle Cameron is sitting down there.”

“He ain’t. They got balcony seats, too.” She pointed to the side. “They’re right there.”

Loree watched as Austin’s gaze followed the direction of Maggie’s finger. He stiffened. Cameron and Becky were sitting alone in the balcony next to theirs.

“You don’t like Uncle Cameron anymore, do you?” Maggie asked.

Austin jerked his head around and stared at her. Amelia put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Turn around, young lady.” She gave Austin an apologetic smile before taking her seat beside Maggie. Houston settled in beside her.

Dee sat beside Loree and laughed lightly. “I didn’t realize that was going to be such an ordeal.” She patted Dallas’s knee. “You handled the situation very well.”

“Next time, everybody gets their own balcony.”

A man walked onto the stage, and a hush fell over the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The Royal Shakespearean Theater is honored to be in your lovely town. Tonight’s performance is
Romeo and Juliet.”

He walked off the stage. The curtains slowly began to open, but Loree found she had no interest in the play. She wondered what thoughts preyed on her husband’s mind. His hand had tightened around hers when Maggie had asked her question. His grip had yet to loosen. He stared straight ahead, but she didn’t think he was paying any more attention to the play than she was. She leaned toward him. “I want to go outside.”

He jerked his head around, and even in the shadows, she saw the concern etched in his face. His hand closed more tightly around hers. “You all right?”

She nodded slightly. “I just need a breath of fresh air.”

He leaned low around her and whispered to Dallas, “We’re gonna step outside for a few minutes.”

Rawley twisted around in his chair. “Can I go?”

Dallas gave a quick nod and stood. Austin helped Loree to her feet and they worked their way between the chairs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stepped on Dee’s foot. But Dee didn’t seem to notice as she waved them past, her gaze riveted on the stage. They stepped between the curtains, and Loree took a deep breath.

“You sure you’re all right?” Austin asked.

“I just felt a little faint.”

“You wanna go sit in the buggy?”

“Could we take a walk?”

“Sure.” He wrapped his hand around hers, and they descended the stairs.

“Could you understand anything them actors was saying?” Rawley asked as he tromped along behind them.

“Not a word,” Austin said.

They walked through the foyer, and Austin swung open the front door. Loree walked through. Austin glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Loree noticed Rawley’s hesitation. She peered back inside. At the far end, in the baby room, Faith had her nose pressed to the pane of glass.

“Reckon I’ll go be with Faith,” Rawley muttered.

“There’s women inside watching them,” Austin assured him. “She’s fine.”

“She don’t look fine. She looks downright miserable,” Rawley said. “I don’t like for my sister to be unhappy.”

He stalked toward the room. Austin chuckled. “I reckon Faith couldn’t have asked for a better brother.” He glanced at Loree. “I couldn’t have asked for a finer wife.”

Loree felt herself blush as she stepped onto the boardwalk. Austin followed her outside and took her hand. “Where do you want to walk?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“We’ll head for the far end of town, then.”

He’d taken four long strides before he adjusted the length of his walk to accommodate her.

“So why did you need a gun?” he asked quietly.

Her step faltered, and she glanced up at him. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“There’s not a lot I forget.”

She sighed heavily. “I was in a strange town, I didn’t know if you’d come back—”

He came to an abrupt halt and spun her around to face him, hurt evident in his eyes. “You thought I’d abandoned you?”

“No, not really. I was just … I was just scared.”

She felt him searching her face, searching for something she could never let him see.

“What is it exactly that you fear?”

“The past. I’m afraid it has a stronger hold on us than either of us realizes.”

“Because of Becky?”

“Because of a lot of things.”

“I can’t change my past.”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t change hers either. She could only hope that it would never lift its ugly head to touch Austin or their children. “Share something good with me.”

His blue eyes darkened, and his lips spread into a warm smile filled with impassioned promises. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and drew her against him. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“A story. Tell me a good story from your past.”

Laughing, he released her waist, took her hand, and began walking. “I’m no good at telling stories.”

The night closed in around them. The lamps along the street threw ashen light over the abandoned boardwalk. The town seemed almost deserted with most of the residents attending the play. She saw pale lamplight spilling out from the saloon at the far end of town, along with boisterous laughter, and the echo of a tinny piano.

She stumbled when the heel of her shoe hit a loose plank in the boardwalk. Austin steadied her, then knelt and slapped his thigh. “Give me your foot.”

“What are you going to do?”

He glanced up at her and she saw the answer in his gaze.

“I’m dressed all fancy. I can’t go barefooted.”

He angled his head and lifted a brow. “Are we going back into the theater to watch the play?”

She remembered how tense he’d been inside the building, how his body and his hold on her had relaxed once they’d stepped outside. “No.”

“Then get your foot up here.”

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she planted her foot on his thigh and watched as he nimbly worked her buttons free and removed the shoe from her foot. “You have such nice fingers,” she said as he rolled her stocking off.

“You think so?”

“Mmm-uh.” She relished the feel of the boardwalk beneath her bare sole and placed her other foot on his thigh. “I wish you’d let me teach you to play your mother’s violin.”

His hands stilled.

“It takes time and patience, but I have both,” she assured him.

He worked her shoe free, grabbed the other shoe, and unfolded his body. “I can’t play the violin, Loree.”

“If you tried—”

“I can’t.”

His words were spoken with absolute finality.

“Can’t never could,” she muttered.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Just something my ma used to tell me.”

He shifted her shoes to one hand, wrapped his free hand around hers, and began walking.

“Dallas has his cattle, Houston has his horses. What do you have?”

“You.”

His smile was warm, and her heart fluttered.

“Before me, what did you have? What were your dreams?”

His steps slowed as though they followed his thinking, back to a time when he had dreams. “Dallas is a man of powerful influence.” He pierced her with his gaze. “I love and admire him, Loree. Don’t ever think that I don’t.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He gave a curt nod. “I wanted to go someplace where people had never heard of him. I wanted to make a name for myself, knowing I had earned the recognition because of me, not him. Does that make any sense?”

She nodded with complete understanding. “Where would you have gone?”

He shook his head slowly. “Never got that far in my thinking. Once I … Once I met Becky, the thought of leaving went straight out of my head.”

“She became your dream then.”

He stopped walking, leaned one shoulder against the side of the building, and brought her close. “No. No, she didn’t. She just made me stop thinking about it.” He trailed his long fingers along her jaw. “You made me start thinking about dreams again.”

He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. “You make me think about a lot of things. You have from the first moment I realized you weren’t a boy.”

He settled his mouth over hers, drawing her up onto her toes. Her feet crept over his boots, taking her higher. His arm came around her, holding her close while he cradled her cheek with his other hand and tilted her head back. He trailed his hot mouth along her throat.

“Sweet, sweet Loree. God, I need you,” he rasped.

Heat swirled through her, around her, over her. Her head dropped back. “Tell me … tell me what you would have done to make a name for yourself.”

“I woulda—”

He made a guttural sound and stumbled back. Loree went flying off him and landed hard on her backside.

“You goddamn murdering son of a bitch!” a man yelled as he slammed Austin into the brick building.

Austin grunted and slid in a heap to the ground.

“They shoulda hanged you!” The man kicked him in the side. Groaning, Austin curled into a ball.

“No!” Loree screamed as she crawled toward one of the shoes Austin had dropped. She threw it at the man, hitting him squarely on the side of the head.

The man jerked back. She heaved the other shoe at him, grateful to see him run into the shadows.

Loree scrambled across the boardwalk. “Austin?”

He moaned as she rolled him over and gently placed his head in her lap. She felt the warm, sticky wetness coating her hands and released a bloodcurdling scream.

“I
can’t get the blood off,” Loree ground out A through clenched teeth as she washed her hands in the bowl of warm water that the doctor had brought her.

Austin heard the tremor of panic in her voice, watched the way she scrubbed viciously at her hands, and was afraid she was going to peel off her skin. He moved away from the doctor who was examining his head.

“Hey, young fella—” Dr. Freeman began.

Austin held up a hand. “Just a minute.”

He crossed the room and took Loree’s hands. She snapped her gaze up to his, and he could almost see the horrific memories mirrored in her golden eyes.

“I can’t get the blood off,” she rasped.

He remembered how she’d continued to scrub herself the night Digger had died, even though she’d washed away all the blood. “I can get it off,” he said quietly. He dipped his hand into the water, then slowly, gently trailed his fingers over her clean hands. Tenderly, he wiped them dry. “There, see? The blood’s all gone.”

Her brow furrowed, Loree glanced at her hands, then lifted one to touch the back of his head. He grabbed her hand before she could get blood on it again. Tears welled in her eyes. “Someone hurt you.”

He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I’m gonna be all right. You go sit in the front room with Dee.”

She nodded before leaving the room, closing the door in her wake. He wished he’d been able to spare her the sight of his blood. Austin crossed back to the chair and sat. He grimaced as the doctor dabbed something against his head. “Damn! That burns.”

“I just want to make certain the gash is clean before I stitch it up. We don’t need any infection,” Dr. Freeman said, his tall skeletal frame thinner than Austin remembered.

“Are you sure Loree is all right?” he asked. Afraid she might have been hurt earlier, he had insisted Dr. Freeman examine her first.

“She’s fine,” Dr. Freeman said. “She just doesn’t have much stomach for blood is all.”

Austin figured he wouldn’t either if he’d watched someone murder his family.

“Who attacked you?” Dallas asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know.”

“Duncan?”

Austin glared at his brother. “I said, I don’t know. He came at me from behind and slammed my head against the wall. Everything went from black to blacker.”

“I’ll ride out and talk to Duncan tomorrow—”

“And what? Tell him to stay away from me when you don’t even know it was him? He’s not the only one in town who thinks I should have hanged.”

Dallas’s eyes narrowed. “Who else?”

“Most of the town.”

“Then I’ll set them all straight.”

“It’s your word against a verdict of guilty. Just stay clear of this. You’re only asking for trouble if you get involved.”

“Goddamn it! This started with me!”

“And it’ll finish with me.” He heaved a weary sigh. “I appreciate your willingness to take a stand, but the truth of the matter is that I did some stupid things without thinking them through. They were my mistakes, and I’m the one that has to pay for them. Without those mistakes, no jury would have ever found me guilty.”

He expected a further argument. Instead, he saw abiding respect delve into his oldest brother’s eyes. “Christ, you did grow up, didn’t you?”

Austin gave him a halfhearted smile. “Yeah.”

The door opened and Dee poked her head through the opening. “Dr. Freeman, Loree said something is happening with the baby.”

Austin shot off the table. “Dammit! I thought you looked her over.”

“I did,” Dr. Freeman said as he shuffled from the room, following in Austin’s wake.

Loree was sitting in a stuffed chair in Dr. Freeman’s front parlor. Austin knelt beside her and wrapped his hand around her tightened fist. “Loree?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh, Austin, I think I’m losing the baby.”

Austin heard bones creak as Dr. Freeman made his way to his knees. “How badly did it hurt?” he asked.

A look of surprise swept over Loree’s face. “Well, it didn’t hurt exactly.”

“What exactly did it do?” Dr. Freeman asked.

Loree cast a sidelong glance at Austin before turning her attention back to Dr. Freeman. “Well, it sorta felt like”—she gnawed on her lower lip and furrowed her brow—“you know when you jump into a creek and air gets trapped in your pantaloons and sorta sits there for a minute after you hit the water and then it bubbles out and tickles? That’s what it felt like.”

Austin thought Dr. Freeman looked as though he were on the verge of busting a gut, his face turned crimson and Austin could tell he was fighting to hold back his laughter. “Can’t say I’ve ever had air get trapped in my pantaloons.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dee. “Think she just felt the baby roll over?”

Dee smiled warmly. “I think so.”

With wonder reflected in her golden eyes, Loree pressed her hand against her stomach. “I felt the baby roll over? She’s all right?”

“I’m certain she’s just fine,” Dr. Freeman said.

The stymied late August air hung outside the open window, doing little to cool Austin’s sweating body. The moon spilled into the bedroom, waltzing with the darkness.

He saw the shadow of his violin as it rested on the top of his bureau. Once he’d been able to hear the music long before he ever touched the strings.

Once, he had dreamed of a special violin—created with his own hands—that made the sweetest music ever heard.

Now, he would be content to play his mother’s scarred and scratched violin—if only he once again had the ability to bring the music to life within his heart.

“Austin, what are you doing?” Loree whispered sleepily.

He walked to the bed, stretched out beside her, and spread his fingers over her stomach. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“The man you went to prison for killing—”

“Was a sorry son of a bitch not worth worrying over.”

“He must have meant something to someone for a man to attack you. I heard him say you should have hanged.”

He cradled her cheek. “I’ll tell you how worthless he was. One night behind the hotel, he shoved some wooden crates over on top of Dee and lit out without a backward glance. Dee lost the baby she was carrying and dang near lost her life. Then he paid Rawley’s father to kill Dallas. I don’t regret his dying. I only regret that I went to prison because of it.” Tenderly, he brushed his lips over hers. “I’m gonna be the one waking up with nightmares if we keep following this trail. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me again what it felt like when the baby moved inside you.”

“It scared me at first because I thought something was wrong. My ma never told me things about having a baby. I didn’t know I’d feel her roll over … or that it would feel so wonderful.” She turned to her side, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re gonna have her. I was embarrassed at first … even ashamed—”

He tilted her face back. He couldn’t see the gold in her eyes, but it didn’t stop him from searching for it. “Loree, the shame is mine, not yours, never yours.”

“Austin, I wanted you close to me that night. I’d never felt so alone in my whole life.”

He reached through the darkness, found her hand, and brought it to his lips. “In prison …”

“What?”

He swallowed hard. If only removing the shackles had removed the memories. “There was this box. The inside was black as tar. If the guard had a toothache or was in the mood to be mean, he’d shove someone into that box.” He felt the sweat break out on his skin and he shivered, even though the night was warm. Her fingers tightened around his. “I couldn’t breathe in that box. I thought I’d go crazy. The night I got home and Dallas told me Becky had gotten married, I felt like he’d shoved me inside that box.”

She pressed a kiss against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“That first night I held you, I felt a flicker of hope that I might be able to escape.”

He felt her warm tears slide down his chest. “One of these nights, Loree, I’m gonna leave every memory I have outside that door. When that happens I’m gonna make love to you until dawn.” Her arms slid around him and she scooted her body close enough to his that he felt every curve. “Lord, I love it when you do that,” he whispered, drawing her closer.

“They’re nice people, aren’t they?”

His chest muffled her words, but he knew without asking to whom she referred. Becky and Cameron. “Yeah, they are. That’s what makes this so much harder. I can’t find it in me to hate them.”

Her hold on him tightened, and he felt slight tremors racing through her. “I’m glad,” she whispered hoarsely. “Hate can eat at you … make you do things …”

He pressed a kiss to her temple and tasted the salt of a tear. “What do you know of hate, Loree?”

“The man who murdered my family. I wanted him dead. I wanted him dead so bad that it was like he’d crawled inside me.”

She started gasping for breath, and he heard a broken sob escape. “Shh. Shh. Loree, don’t upset yourself. It’s been a bad night. Don’t think about the past. Think about the future.” He continued to coo to her, feeling her body relaxing within his arms. Her gasping gave way to slow even breathing. “That’s it, Sugar. Think about that little girl—”

She sniffed. “Boy.”

He chuckled low. “Oh, it’s a boy now, is it?”

“I think so.”

He drew her closer. The night was warm, unbearably hot, but he kept her within the circle of his arms. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he’d be the one to wake up with nightmares, but he’d discovered that as long as she was nestled against him, he could hold the hated memories at bay.

“Tell me about your wedding.”

Loree stopped kneading the bread dough and glanced up at Maggie’s expectant face. The child sat at the end of the table, her legs tucked up beneath her bottom on the chair, the hand holding the stub of her pencil poised above the journal.

“My wedding?”

Maggie nodded briskly. “I want to write a story about it.”

Loree glanced at the window. She saw the gray skies. She could not believe how quickly autumn had given way to winter. She turned her attention back to Maggie. “Do you write lots of stories?”

Maggie bobbed her head.

“When do you write all these stories?”

“Nighttime is the best. It’s usually the quietest ‘cept when Pa gets a hankering for a bunch of kisses. He’ll say he wants to see Ma’s toes curl, and she’ll start giggling. Then suddenly, it gets really quiet. Do your toes curl when Uncle Austin kisses you?”

Loree felt her face warm. She had to admit Maggie wasn’t a shy child, but she couldn’t wait to tell Austin that she knew what Maggie was doing at night when her light again became visible in her room. She started pounding the bread dough. “Sometimes.”

“I bet Aunt Becky’s toes curl. When Uncle Cameron married her, he kissed her a really long time. Until Uncle Dallas cleared his throat real loud. Made me jump outta my skin.”

Loree imagined any noise Dallas made on purpose would startle her. “Was their wedding nice?”

Maggie shrugged. “It was tiny. There was just us. And Aunt Becky was so silly. She started crying. She said she didn’t think we’d come on account of her lovin’ Uncle Austin first and then lovin’ Uncle Cameron.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “But once you love someone, you don’t stop lovin’ ‘em.”

“No, I guess you don’t.” Loree wondered where the child had gained her wisdom, and if she’d lose it once she grew older.

A brief knock sounded on the door before Houston opened it, a panicked expression on his face. His other three daughters were with him, their eyes wide. “Amelia’s having the baby. Can I leave the young ‘uns with you?”

“Certainly.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Loree crossed the room and ushered the children inside.

The cold November winds whipped around Austin as he guided Black Thunder home. He drew up the collar on his sheep skin jacket and pulled his hat lower over his brow. Night was closing in, and he relished its arrival.

Evenings had become his favorite time of day. Loree welcomed him with arms open wide, a warm meal, and a warmer kiss. They sat in front of the fire, curled around each other, waiting for their child to move.

Austin had grown up around a brother who bred cattle, a brother who bred horses … and yet the wonder of a child that he’d helped to create growing within a woman he cherished … humbled him.

He brought Black Thunder to a halt, dismounted, and impatiently set about the task of tending to his horse before seeing to his own needs. He saw the lamplight spilling out from the window, and the chill of the night gave way to an unexpected warmth.

He finished his task and strode to the house, anticipation hurrying his step. He threw open the door and froze.

“Uncle Austin,” three little magpies chirped and raced across the room to wrap themselves around his legs.

“We’re makin’ baby cookies,” Laurel said. “Want one?”

The one she extended toward him had a bite taken from it. Loree strolled across the room and began to tug the girls back. “Come on, girls. At least let Uncle Austin get his jacket off.”

He met Loree’s eyes as he shrugged out of his jacket. She looked at him imploringly. “Amelia went into labor this morning. Houston brought the girls over so I could watch them.”

Austin looked past her to the table laden with cookies. “I said we’d bake cookies until the baby was born. I didn’t know it would take all day.”

The door swung open catching Austin in the middle of his back. Maggie pushed her way through. “Not yet. Pa says anytime. So can we bake some more cookies?”

“Don’t you think you have enough cookies?” Austin asked.

“But Aunt Loree said—”

“She didn’t know your ma would take so long,” Austin explained. “And Aunt Loree looks mighty tired to me.”

“We could play Go Fish,” Maggie suggested.

“It’s a little late to go fishing,” Austin said.

Maggie laughed. “You’re so silly, Uncle Austin. It’s a game.”

Loree sat in the rocking chair, watching her husband play a card game with his nieces. They sat in a circle, drawing cards, laying down cards. She suspected he was cheating because tiny A. J. who sat in his lap while he held her cards, as well as his own, was winning several hands while Austin was repeatedly ending up with no cards to his credit. It was a strange moment to come to the realization that she had fallen in love with him.