Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (11 page)

He waited until she was out of earshot before he turned to Dawg. “Dawg, we're leaving.”

The dog didn't protest, but Brand's heart pounded against his ribs as if trying to get free.

Freedom was not an option for him. Either he ran or he hanged.

Chapter Ten

B
rand gathered his stuff together. If that was Cyrus and Pa he'd heard, they would be watching the place. He'd slip away under cover of darkness. So he sank back on the hay-covered floor to wait, as Dawg slept. Brand planted his hat on his head, tipped it over his eyes and crossed his arms on his chest. Anyone caring to check on him would assume he slept, though the tension coursing through him made that impossible.

He woke from his pretend sleep for only one thing: Sybil delivering supper.

She sat beside him as he choked down the food.

She would be hurt that he simply disappeared. Several times he opened his mouth, and closed it again without saying the words he longed to speak. He wanted to tell her he must leave that very night. But he couldn't face an argument to stay. Nor could he risk having her try and stop him. He had no choice but to keep his plans secret.

She chattered on about Linette's intended trip to town in a few days. “She's hoping for letters from home and something from Grady's father. She is convinced the boy won't ever be happy unless that relationship is mended.”

Brand had removed his hat when she joined him, and sat back at an angle so he could watch her. He had avoided developing feelings for anyone since May had made him see how dangerous that was. Even before, he'd learned to be guarded in his friendships. It was a lesson hard learned in his youth and one he should have heeded. But he regretted for less than a second the exception he'd made in this case. Yes, he had to leave. Hopefully, he could escape his brother and Pa. He'd hole up someplace for the winter as was his habit. But this winter he'd have a heart full of both regret and pleasure at this memory.

“Oh, goodness. I have talked on and on, haven't I?”

“Not a problem.”

“But I must be going.” She rose in a graceful move.

He scrambled to his feet and stared down at her, hoping his eyes did not reveal how thoroughly he studied every feature, knowing this would be his last time to drink in the details.

She touched the back of his hand, sending warmth racing to his heart. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep his arms crossed, his hand pressed to himself, when he ached to hold her close. Enjoy one brief moment of joy before taking up his old life again.

Perhaps sensing the hardness he must force into his heart, she stepped back. “Good night. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” he murmured. He waited until she left the pen before turning to watch and listen to her leave the barn. Then he hurried to the workbench and watched her through the clean spot in the window.

Not until she reached the house and stepped inside did he return to the stall.

He waited until the last of the sunset faded and stars began to pepper the sky before he led his horse from the barn, keeping carefully to soft bits of ground to muffle the sound of his departure. He carried Dawg. Any direction he took would necessitate passing an occupied building, so he must proceed with caution, but once away from the ranch he meant to ride hard in a westerly direction. He made his way past the foreman's house and up the hill. Not until he deemed he was beyond hearing did he swing into the saddle, let Dawg get comfortable in his arms. Then he galloped down the dark thread that indicated the trail.

Deepening darkness enfolded him and he had to pull the horse to a walk to see his way. He continued on for the better part of an hour. With each passing mile, his lungs filled more easily. He planned to ride through the night as long as he could make out enough of the path before him to prevent his horse from stumbling. With every step, he expected to be stopped by the Duggan gang, but he rode onward without any sign of them. Had he been mistaken in thinking they'd found him? Not that he meant to hang about and wait for that to happen.

He settled into the saddle, prepared for a long ride.

Did he hear a horse whinny? He reined in and strained to listen. It came again. Was someone camped nearby? He waited, straining to hear any sound above the heavy thump of his heart.

Suddenly a horse and rider appeared before him, a dim shadow in the darkness.

Brand's hand stole toward his gun belt and he gripped the handle of his pistol.

“We been waiting for you.” Cyrus's low voice broke the fearful silence.

Brand's hand relaxed at the same time his insides clenched.

Cyrus rode closer, reined in to press close to Brand's side. “Pa said I should bring you to visit.”

“Like I said before, I ain't interested.”

“Now, ain't that downright unforgivin' of you. After all we done.”

Yeah, like make my life unbearable. Force me to be on the run.
But Brand kept his opinion to himself. He'd said it all since he was a kid. His protests had earned him a smack across the head and accusations of being ungrateful. As an adult, he'd tried again to say he wanted nothing to do with the gang. Pa had voiced his displeasure at Brand's lack of loyalty, and Cyrus had threatened to tie a licking on him. Only seeing the anger in Brand's face and his clenched fists had convinced him Brand was no longer a little brother who couldn't or wouldn't defend himself.

Cyrus pushed the horses forward. Brand considered reining away and riding until they couldn't find him. But he knew Cyrus would chase him until both horses collapsed. The man had a stubborn streak as wide as the sky.

So he let his brother edge them along. “Care to tell me where we're going?”

“I think it's time you showed Pa a little respect. I'm plumb tired of your high-and-mighty attitude. Your ma was no better than my ma, despite what she taught you.”

“She never taught me anything of the sort. 'Sides, it wasn't either of our mothers who robbed innocent people. It's our pa.”

“Don't you think he done it for you and your ma?”

Brand did not think so, but he knew arguing would only add fuel to the fire of Cyrus's bad attitude.

“We leave the trail here,” his brother said, grabbing the reins of Brand's horse. “Just to ensure you don't change your mind,” he explained, his voice full of sneering mockery.

“I don't plan to change my mind.” Ever.

They crashed through the bushes with little regard for the amount of noise they made. And Cyrus certainly had no concern for the branches he pushed aside and released so that they whipped at Brand, stinging his face, bruising his arms, almost unseating him. He did what he could to protect Dawg.

Dawg hated Cyrus, but knew better than to growl at him. Cyrus wouldn't hesitate to kick Dawg, saying the animal needed to learn some respect.

Brand finally saw a campfire ahead. Made out half a dozen men lounging around it. None of them showed any concern at the approach of riders.

Only Pa rose to greet them. “Howdy, son,” he said, as Brand and Cyrus rode into the circle of light. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Pa. Sure wish we could meet under better circumstances.”

Cyrus gave a mocking laugh and ordered him off his horse.

Brand struggled to get down while still holding Dawg.

“See you still got that mangy mutt.”

Dawg barred his teeth as Brand set him on the ground at his feet.

The fire flared, throwing grotesque shadows.

Cyrus saw the stitches on Dawg's side and whooped with harsh laughter. “He looks like a crazy quilt.” He laughed some more.

Brand wanted nothing more than to silence that laugh with a fist to Cyrus's mouth. But he was outnumbered seven to one, and didn't trust Cyrus not to shoot Dawg out of spite, so he ignored his brother and studied his pa.

“You've lost weight,” he said. The man was downright gaunt. “Don't you eat?”

“We eat real good,” Cyrus answered. “Pa looks fit as a fiddle and don't you say otherwise.”

The men around the fire shuffled and tried to appear disinterested.

Brand figured he didn't need to say anything more about the subject. Anyone with eyes could see how Pa's hide hung from his frame. His skin had a peculiar pale hue to it. Could he be ill? Despite the differences between them, Brand ached to think of his father dying. A man lost and on the run.
Please, God, give me a chance to speak to him
. Perhaps Brand could persuade him to stop running.

A shudder snaked across Brand's shoulders. That would mean Pa turning himself over to the authorities. He'd hang. More than once the Duggan gang had left death in the wake of their activities.

“Got any coffee?” Brand nodded toward the enamel pot hanging near the fire.

“Cyrus, get your brother some.” Pa made it sound all loving and familial, even though Cyrus growled a protest as he sloshed steaming coffee into a tin mug.

Brand took it without comment. Experience told him Cyrus would object to anything, from a word of thanks to a kick in the shins. Seems he viewed every word and action with the same yellowed opinion.

One of the men took Brand's horse away, leaving him feeling exposed and helpless. But he would never reveal weakness to this brood, and he hunkered down on his heels to nurse his coffee. Dawg pressed close, keeping Brand between him and the others.

Cyrus perched on a tree stump nearby, his boots swinging back and forth inches from Brand's face.

Brand ignored him. Like Dawg, he knew better than to rise to Cyrus's invitations to trouble.

Pa sank to the ground nearby. “Hear you been doing all right fer yerself lately.”

“I've been doing all right by myself most of my life.” He kept all rancor from his tone, just as Pa had made his words a simple comment, when Brand knew they held a whole lot more.

“You always was ungrateful,” Cyrus growled.

Pa signaled for his elder son to be still. “We been looking about, asking questions and learning lots.”

“Uh-huh.” Brand knew the sort of things they would be learning—who kept a stash of money in their mattress, who had valuables in the house, when the stagecoach carried a heavy strongbox.

“Some interesting things have come to light.” Pa inched closer. “This Eddie Gardiner you been working for is one of the biggest ranchers in the territory.” He waited for Brand to say something. When he didn't, Pa continued. “And he comes from a rich family back in England. From what I hear they practically roll in money.”

“Do tell.” Guess it took a certain amount of backing to get a ranch like Eden Valley going, but from what Brand had seen, Eddie and his family lived simply enough. Why, his sister, Jayne, lived in a tiny, two-room cabin with her new husband. Didn't sound like stinking rich to him.

But he knew the futility of trying to make Pa see reason.

His skin twitched to think of his pa spying on the ranch. Had he watched Sybil? Brand clenched his teeth so hard they creaked. If he'd seen them... Well, family or not, he would have shown his objection.

“You've been there some time. Guess you've learned a lot about the goings on of the ranch.”

“I broke a few horses. That's all.”

Pa shook his head and wagged a finger. “Ain't how I saw it.”

Brand dared not react. He knew from the leer on Pa's face they'd seen him with Sybil. His head threatened to explode. His presence had put her in danger. He had known all along he should move on. But had he listened to the warning inside his head? Nope. Foolish feelings had been allowed to rule.

Cyrus laughed mockingly, his voice jarring across Brand's nerves like loud discordant music.

Pa grinned at Cyrus, sending the jarring feeling deep into Brand's gut. He knew what they would ask next. They always asked the same thing.

Could he hope to delay them? Brand set the empty cup down and yawned widely. “I'm tired.”

Cyrus's boot connected to Brand's knee. “Guess that's what happens when you spend your time courting. Don't get 'nough sleep.”

Brand's fists curled so tight the knuckles cracked. He saw red spots that did not come from the fire, but from the anger rolling inside him. How dare Cyrus violate an innocent friendship with his crude insinuations? But Brand would not let him know he'd touched a raw nerve. Ignoring both the nudge and the comment, he yawned again.

Cyrus bolted from his post and squatted before him, almost nose to nose. “Little brother, you can stop playing the sweet innocent boy with us. We've been watching you. What's more, we know you and that boss man were friendly.” His spit spattered on Brand's face. Brand wiped at it with his sleeve.

“I only broke some horses for the man.”

“We saw how you hung about. How the man visited you in the barn.” Cyrus leaned back with a malicious sneer on his face.

Brand noted that the five men around the campfire all sat up and watched. His nerves twanged with tension.

Cyrus rose and loomed above him. “We know you got it figured out where the man keeps his money.”

Brand had known what to expect, but it still turned his blood bitter that they figured he was the same as them. “Know nothing about it.”

Cyrus's mean laugh carried no mirth. “Ya, I guess you want us to think so. Selfish, you are. Figger to keep it all to yerself.” His eyes bored into Brand's. “We aim to make sure you don't.”

Brand didn't bother sparing a glance at Pa, knowing he would share Cyrus's opinion.

Brand slowly rose to his feet, leaning forward, forcing Cyrus to take a step backward, which earned him one of his brother's black looks. “I know nothing. Now if you give me my stuff, I'd like to go to sleep.”

He and Cyrus continued their staring match until the others began to shuffle nervously.

“Stu, get his bedroll,” Pa said. “Brand, Cyrus, we'll finish this conversation in the morning.”

Cyrus grunted. “You can count on it.” When the whiskered man Pa called Stu tossed Brand his bedroll, he stretched out, hopefully giving the opinion that all he cared about was his slumber.

Dawg curled up against him. Brand closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He lay with every nerve tensed, ready for anything, knowing the battle of wits was not over.