Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (16 page)

“Seems to me you're more than a Duggan. You're a good man.” Bertie rose.

“I'll thank you not to repeat what I just said.” Brand didn't want to be mocked for making up stories so people would think him innocent.

The other man rocked back and forth on his feet. “Are you saying you'd refuse my help?”

“I'm saying I doubt you could help, and I don't care to be considered a whiner.”

Bertie patted his shoulder. “You're no whiner. Now try and be comfortable. I'll bring your supper when it's ready. You're in for a treat. My Cookie makes the best meals in the whole territory.”

Brand chuckled at the man's pride. Not until Bertie left did he realize he'd not given the promise Brand had asked for. Not that it really mattered. Nothing Bertie said would convince anyone.

Brand hadn't slept at all the night before. He settled back in the straw now, Dawg at his side, and let sleep numb his thoughts. He jerked awake as Bertie entered and bent to loosen the ropes on his wrists.

“I ain't into feeding an able-bodied man.”

Brand rubbed his bruised and raw skin, then turned to the food. “You didn't exaggerate,” he said after his first mouthful. “I realized that when she sent a plate out to me before.” He took another bite of the tender roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy.

Bertie grinned. Then as Brand ate, he sat and told stories of people he'd met and places he'd been. He even managed to make Brand laugh a time or two.

“Son, I'd like to read from the Bible before I go.”

The idea sat well with Brand and he agreed.

Bertie read for a few minutes—stories of the Israelites as they wandered the desert.

The words gave Brand comfort, but his wanderings were soon to end and he would join his ma and pa in heaven. The comfort fled as he choked back the tightness in his throat. Tightness from an imaginary rope about his neck.

Chapter Thirteen

S
ybil tossed and turned all night. She could not shake the uncertainty she felt about Brand. She rose tired and angry at herself. She did not want to think of him. He was an outlaw and would soon face justice. But he'd revealed nothing of that sort of nature while she'd kept him company, helped him sew up Dawg, nor when they'd walked to the river. Her cheeks burned with shame to think she had hoped he'd kiss her again. What was wrong with her? Never before in her life had she struggled to keep her thoughts on what was right and wise.

Realizing she was staring out the window in the direction of the barn, she jerked away and went to the library. She would take each book off the shelves and dust the place thoroughly. She sneezed as she tackled the job.

Two hours later she stood back, satisfied. Then her shoulders sagged. Now what? The job had not kept her from thinking of Brand and reliving every moment they had spent together. As it turned out, for her it was in blissful ignorance. Yet even knowing that couldn't erase those memories.

How was she to move on, with her heart so full of regrets and forbidden wishes?

She hurried from the library. The kitchen was empty. Linette must have taken Grady to visit Cassie's children. And who knew where Mercy disappeared to? The empty house echoed with Sybil's inner turmoil.

“I must forget him. Put him out of my mind,” she murmured to the silent walls.

But how could she? Perhaps if she confronted him...

Her decision made, she grabbed a knit shawl and left the house, keeping her steps slow and measured, when she longed to rush down the hill.

She rehearsed what she would say:
Why did you not tell me who you are?
However, the answer was obvious. If he had, there would have been no chance of even a hint of friendship between them. Nor would he have been invited to come to the ranch in the first place.

Strange that his reputation hadn't preceded him. Everyone knew him only as a horse breaker. Why had there been no word of him being part of the Duggan gang? How did he manage to hide that and deceive so many people? Of course, his role in the gang necessitated he do exactly that. Win people's confidence, learn their secrets so the gang could rob them.

But if that was the case, why hadn't he accepted any of the invitations into the big house? Why had he shied away from any contact with others?

She pressed her palms to her temples. None of it made any sense. If she answered the questions truthfully, she couldn't see him as guilty. But was she only trying to make herself feel better about the way she had practically fallen over him?

The cookhouse lay on her left. She slowed her steps. Would Cookie soothe her with tea and cinnamon rolls? Jayne's cabin stood on her right. Would Jayne offer wise words? Tell her she should guard her heart?

Sybil stared straight ahead. She didn't want comfort nor wise words. She wanted answers to the ache in her heart, and only Brand could offer those. Though he likely had nothing to give but more lies, more deceit.

The barn door had been pushed open, letting in the cool afternoon air and bright sunshine. Sybil paused to glance about. Noted the thinning leaves on the trees, the dusty brown piles of them gathering along the edges of the yard as if huddling together against winter. They would soon find how futile it was to try and fight the season.

Was she being equally foolish? Refusing to accept the facts?

She opened the gate of the pen in front of the barn and slipped past the bars, holding her breath lest anyone see her and wonder if she had lost her mind.

A man's voice came from the interior of the barn. Not Brand's. She paused in the doorway to listen.

“You're not so high and mighty now, are you?” Cal. She recognized his voice.

She heard no reply from Brand, and wondered whether he spoke so softly she couldn't hear, or if he didn't even bother to answer the man.

“I've half a mind to drag you outside and let all your admiring fans see who you really are.” Cal laughed, a short, bitter sound. “In fact, that's what I'm going to do. The others will be showing up for supper about now.”

She caught the sound of grunting and scuffling. And Dawg growling.

“Dawg, quiet.” These were the only words she heard Brand speak.

“Get to your feet,” Cal said harshly.

Sybil clutched at the rough wood on the door frame. Why was Cal so vindictive? What did he hope to gain by parading Brand before the others? Everyone knew he was in the barn and why. But Cal wanted to further humiliate him.

Brand had dealt with enough already. His capture. His pa's death. Enough was enough.

Ignoring the warning voice in her head that said she should stay out of this, Sybil hurried down the aisle. She reached the open gate.

Dawg whined, alerting Brand. He stood before Cal, his hands bound, a rope around his neck. He shook his head as if warning her away.

But she was beyond paying attention to a warning of any sort. “I wonder what Eddie would think of this. Or have you sent him after an imaginary sick cow again?”

Cal spun about, his eyes wide with surprise, and then they narrowed. “It was a bull and this is none of your concern.”

A few minutes ago she might have agreed with him. In fact, she might have been compelled to add her own words of condemnation. But suddenly everything was so clear she wondered how she could have been confused for even a minute.

Cal gave her his back as he turned his attention to Brand. “He's an outlaw. Don't bother wasting your time on him.”

She stepped into the pen. Dawg pressed to her side and she patted his head, but kept her attention fixed on Cal. When he continued to ignore her, she grabbed his shoulder. “Who appointed you judge and jury?”

He spared her a look full of disbelief. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Sybil, leave it be.” Brand obviously did not thank her for interfering.

“I have no intention of leaving it be. Cal, let him alone.”

The cowboy laughed in her face. “Who's going to stop me?”

She grabbed the rope, surprising him enough that it slipped from his grip. She glowered at him. “I am.”

Cal growled. “Little Miss London. Too good for the rest of us. You might just consider that you don't belong here and this is none of your business.” He lunged for the rope, but Brand jerked away, pushed Sybil aside and faced Cal.

“You can call me an outlaw all you want, but you will treat Miss Bannerman like a lady.”

Cal's face darkened. His fists curled.

Dawg's hackles rose and he snarled at the man.

Cal kicked at him. “Your dog is ugly and stupid.” He grabbed the rope and yanked it tight.

Brand choked, fought the rope with his bound hands.

Sybil shoved Cal. He shoved back and she fell into the boards.

Dawg erupted into a ball of flying fur. He lunged at Cal, grabbed his arm and bit.

Cal shook his arm, balled his fist and—

Sybil screamed.

“Cal, that's enough.” Eddie's voice stopped them midmotion. He stepped into the pen and loosened the rope around Brand's neck. “Call off your dog.”

Brand croaked out two words. “Dawg, down.” He clutched at his throat. Dawg released Cal and stood back, his hackles raised, his teeth bared as he growled.

Cal held his arm. “That dog attacked me for no reason. I'm going to get my gun and shoot him.” He stomped toward the gate.

“Stop.” Eddie spoke the order softly but with no mistake. He meant to be obeyed.

Cal halted, his back to the others.

“You can pack your bag and be off the place immediately. I wouldn't advise you to linger. I might regret letting you off so easy if I have time to think about it.”

Cal turned. “I ain't done nothing wrong.”

Eddie planted his fists on his hips. “I heard enough, saw enough to disagree. You aren't the sort of man I wish to have on the place.” His eyebrows rose. “I'm already having second thoughts about letting you just ride out.”

Cal spared Brand one hot look and then tramped out of the barn.

Eddie faced Sybil and Brand. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Sybil said.

Brand nodded and backed up to the corner.

“I'm sorry,” Eddie said. “Outlaw or not, you don't deserve to be treated like that. I wish I didn't have to tie you up again, but I do.”

Brand simply sat down and let himself be tied to the post.

Sybil bit her lip to keep from protesting. “Eddie, do you mind if I stay here and talk to Brand?”

“I believe you're safe enough.” He backed away and left the barn.

Sybil lowered herself to the floor in front of Brand and sat staring at him, uncertain what she wanted to say.

He studied her, his eyes flat, his face expressionless. Then he laughed.

She stared. “What's so funny?”

He shook his head, unable to talk.

She lifted her eyebrows, silently demanding an answer.

“You,” he sputtered. “‘Little Miss London.' You certainly surprised that cowboy. You looked about ready to bear wrestle him.” He laughed some more.

“I don't see what's so funny. He was about to hurt you.” A trickle of amusement drowned out her fear and a grin grew on her lips. “I did surprise him, didn't I?” Not half as much as she'd surprised herself. Where had the fight come from? She was normally the most agreeable, most nonaggressive person imaginable. Her actions were totally out of character.

He sobered. “Why are you here?”

Her amusement ended as quickly as it had begun. “I don't know.” She studied her fingers as they intertwined in her lap. “I guess I was hoping for some answers.” She lifted her head and met his look, searching for truth.

At first his eyes were hard, then she detected a softening. He sighed. “What more do you need to know? I'm a Duggan.”

“I don't believe that says it all.”

He looked past her. Kept his attention focused on something beyond her shoulder.

“Brand, who are you besides that?”

Slowly his gaze came to her, and she shivered at the pain she saw embedded in them. He blinked as if he hoped to erase it, but failed.

She squeezed her fingers tighter to keep from reaching for him. Her heart could not forget the few days when she'd believed in him. The way they'd laughed together, nursed Dawg together. The way they'd kissed. “Why did you kiss me?”

The pain in his eyes deepened, turning them to black coals. “I'm sorry.”

She shook her head. “That's not what I want to hear.” When had she become so demanding? So outspoken? She knew the answer. When she began to sort out the pieces of what she knew about Brand. “Things just don't add up. If you were staking out the place, as we're supposed to believe, why did you never visit Eddie's house? Why did you avoid everyone on the ranch except me? Why didn't you ask questions about the place? What kind of front man could you possibly be?” She grew impassioned as she spoke, lifting her hands imploringly.

She knew she wasn't mistaken in judging his attitude shifted. His shoulders relaxed. His breathing came easier.

Then he shrugged. “I'm still a Duggan and that is how I'll be judged.”

“Are you saying you'll go the gallows with your only defense being that you're a Duggan? Need I point out that is no defense at all?”

He tipped his head to one side in a dismissive gesture.

“I don't understand.” She sorted through the events of the past few days. “Why did Cyrus kidnap me? If you were doing the job of spying out the land, why kidnap me? Wouldn't it just bring more attention to the gang? What purpose did my kidnapping serve?”

“Apart from giving Cyrus some sport, you mean?”

It wasn't meant as a question but an answer. A truly unsatisfactory one, she decided.

“I was very angry at first. I don't like being deceived. But more and more the whole situation simply doesn't make sense.”

He studied the shape of his dog's head, visually examined the grain of the wood in the wall beside him and generally pretended a great interest in everything but her demands.

“Brand. Can you not offer an explanation? Don't I deserve at least that much?”

He shifted his gaze back to her, all sign of emotion gone. “You figure one little kiss gives you the right to know everything about me?”

His harsh words drained the concern from her thoughts. She rose to her feet in a slow, self-controlled manner. “I haven't given the kiss another thought.” It was as false as his pretense to be a good, kind man. Or was his falsehood in pretending to be an outlaw? She left the barn without a backward look.

But she could not shake off the feeling that things were not as they appeared, if anyone cared to look beyond the surface.

But was anyone willing to do so?

* * *

Brand waited until he knew she was long gone before he let out a low groan. “Sure hate to be mean to her,” he explained to Dawg. “But what's the point in her thinking I'm innocent? The Mountie caught me in the act of robbing the store.” No one would believe he was there against his will. After all, he was a Duggan. And that said it all. He'd ask for no mercy except from God, who knew the truth and had forgiven more than one Duggan.

Lord, there's still Cyrus. Give him a chance to repent, too.

And thank you that Sybil wonders if I'm guilty.

Brand could die with joy tucked around his heart to know that. More than that. If he held on to the memory of her facing down Cal, he could die happy.

He sobered instantly. He did not fancy dangling at the end of a rope. But he saw no way of avoiding it.

Because the truth was, he had been involved in a robbery. He had become what he had avoided so hard for years.

He'd become a Duggan in more than name.

Unable to guess at the time except to know the sun shone in the western window of the barn, he settled down to wait, Dawg at his side.