Promise Me Texas (A Whispering Mountain Novel) (22 page)

CHAPTER 25

B
ETH WALKED SLOWLY DOWN THE STAIRS TOWARD THE
ranch house kitchen. She could hear her uncles laughing and wondered if they were picking on Andrew. He knew nothing about how tough they were. Andrew was a quiet man, a gentle man. Sometimes when her uncles got together they shook the house with their discussions.

Only this time, when she reached the kitchen, the men were all laughing, including Andrew.

Uncle Travis saw her first. “Mrs. McLaughlin,” he bellowed, silencing the other two.

Andrew stood and met her at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve just met your uncles. They’re fascinating.” He’d kept his voice low, but she had no doubt they both heard Andrew’s comment.

Travis stepped closer. “Your new husband was telling us about his adventures in Hell’s Half Acre.”

Beth shook her head. “He’s making it all up, stretching the truth.”

Travis tilted his head. “I’m a lawyer, Bethie, and a former Texas Ranger. Your Uncle Tobin lives half the year in Washington. Don’t you think we’d know a lie if we heard one?”

Beth had no idea if he was kidding, so she turned back to Andrew. “Momma told us to hurry into the parlor. Apparently Papa has Lamont trapped in there again.”

Uncle Travis stepped out of her way and waved them on. “If you’re still alive after the talk, Andrew, come on in for breakfast. I’ve got a few stories about the early days of the Acre you might like to hear.”

Andrew nodded as she pulled him along. He knew she didn’t want to face Lamont again any more than he did, but there seemed no way to avoid it. They might as well get it over with.

When she stopped in front of the parlor doors, Andrew reached around and opened them for her. Then he took her hand in his and whispered, “I’m right here. We stand together. What could go wrong with both your father and me in the room with one man?”

Beth glared at him. “Everything,” she whispered as she passed her almost-husband and moved into the room her mother called the parlor.

Her papa sat in one chair, a book in his hand.

Lamont stood by the fireplace and, for a moment, she was relieved to see that he appeared simply bored. Then he raised his gaze and met her stare. Hatred crossed over his face like poison spreading through veins.

Teagan stood. “Bethie, I told the man he could have his say before he left. You’ll allow him that and he’ll ask for no more.”

She nodded. No matter how much she wanted to run, she knew her papa was being fair, which was more than Lamont deserved.

He glared at her as if he didn’t see or hear anyone else in the room. On the train that night he’d been boastful and in command; here he seemed less sure of himself, maybe even a bit frightened.

She took a seat in a chair a few feet from her father and noticed that Andrew moved to stand next to her, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. The room was quiet and warm from the fireplace, but all she felt was Lamont’s hatred.

“You ruined my life, Beth,” he began, as if he had prepared a speech. “You destroyed my plans and gave no reason. You stole my chances at a career in politics.”

She took a breath. She could deal with this. The meeting wasn’t going to be as bad as she feared it might be. “I didn’t do anything to you, Lamont, except decide not to marry you. You’re not the man you portrayed in your letters, and I’m thankful, for both our sakes, that I found it out before we married.”

“I demand to know why you would think such a thing.” His tone sharpened. His voice grew hard. “I think I have that right. I’d prepared for a wedding in Dallas, but when I see you, you’re married to him.” Lamont pointed to Andrew in disgust.

She started to say that he didn’t have any rights, but she wanted this meeting over as soon as possible. “I don’t love you, Lamont. I don’t think I ever loved you, it was more the ideal of you. That night, before the wreck, I rode in the back of your passenger car. You were drinking and bragging to a group of army officers. You called me ‘that McMurray woman.’ You said you’d allow me one, maybe two children. You bragged that you’d keep me in line because women are like children, they sometimes need a strong hand.”

To her left she saw Teagan start to rise and knew if she said more her papa would toss the man out. “Any love I had for you died then. Killed by your words and nothing else.”

“Don’t lie to me, Beth. You already had another man. You just led me along so you could embarrass me. Add another broken heart to your long list that you can brag about.” Lamont finally turned to Andrew. “Then, for no reason, you married a nobody, Beth. A man who owns no property or business. He probably can’t even keep you in shoes, much less in the manner you should be kept. Hell, he probably doesn’t even vote.”

Andrew didn’t seem to take offense at the insults.

“I don’t want to be kept, Lamont. I never did. I want to contribute, to be of use.”

Lamont snorted. “You’re a beauty thing, aren’t you? Good for nothing but show, and now, just to spite me, you’ve married a man who dresses like a wrinkled, out-of-work undertaker.”

Andrew’s hands molded into fists, but he still didn’t say anything.

“He’s more man than you’ll ever be. He’s good and kind and funny.” She looked at Andrew, and for a moment their eyes held. “And I love him,” she said, more to her almost-husband than to Lamont.

Even wrinkled with uncombed hair and several days of stubble, he looked wonderful to her.

“He’s a thief,” Lamont shouted. “And no one steals what is mine.” He pulled a small derringer from his vest pocket and waved it like a banner.

Everyone moved in the half heartbeat before the gun fired. Andrew stepped in front of Beth. Teagan lunged, shoving Lamont sideways. Beth screamed and tumbled back into the chair. The room spun with yells and curses and arms and legs flying.

Teagan flattened the senator, knocking the breath from the man, then pounded on his still body as if not ready to stop fighting. Her gray-haired papa was a warrior, once more protecting his own.

It’s over
, Beth thought, as the violence and noise settled around them like dust. She felt her tight muscles begin to relax. The nightmare that had begun on a midnight train was over. No more running. No more lies. Her papa would toss Lamont off the ranch so fast he’d think he flew, and her world would be safe again.

Suddenly the little parlor was filled with her mother and uncles moving furniture around, asking questions, issuing threats to an oblivious senator. Lamont moaned once, and Teagan’s fist patted his jaw, sending the man back to sleep.

“Are you hurt?” Travis yelled at Teagan, who was still on top of their guest.

“No. How about you, Bethie?” Teagan rose from an unconscious Lamont. “I thought the bullet went wild, but did it clip you?”

Jessie was kneeling in front of her daughter, already moving her hands along Beth’s arms.

“I’m fine. He didn’t hit me.” She fought to control her anger. “He tried to kill me. Oh, Momma, he tried to kill me. If Andrew hadn’t stepped in front of me, I might be dead.”

She moved into her mother’s arms as fear shook her.

Andrew still stood beside her, silent, unmoving, his hand pressed against his wrinkled trousers. “It’s over,” she whispered as she reached for his hand.

Warm blood trickled between their fingers. She looked down and saw crimson spreading across his leg and onto the rug.

“Andrew?” She looked up.

He let go of her hand and stared down at his leg. “I fear, dear, that I may have been shot.”

His eyes closed as he crumpled to the floor.

CHAPTER 26

E
VERYONE MOVED AT ONCE AROUND THE SMALL PARLOR
, which was designed for women’s teas and not gunfights. The uncles lifted Andrew and moved him slowly down the hallway to the study.

Jessie ran ahead of them to clear the desk. She yelled at the housekeeper and Madie standing on the stairs to bring towels and sheets, then put water on to boil.

Beth followed the others, her heart pounding so wildly she feared it might break her chest. Andrew was hurt because of her. He’d acted, as he had before, to save her. This was all her fault.

“I’ll go get the wagon.” Teagan lifted Lamont’s head and let it drop with a thud on the floor. “As soon as we check the wound and tie it off tight, we should be on our way to Sage’s hospital in town.”

“No,” Tobin said. “I’ll ride to get her. One horse, going through the back way, will be twice as fast as traveling overland in the wagon. I’ll have her back here in no time.”

Travis looked at Tobin. “Bring Drum back. We’ll need the sheriff to haul Lamont off.”

Everyone circled around Andrew. When Beth raised his head, she cried softly. He looked so pale. He was losing blood again.

Travis lit the fire in the fireplace as Madie rushed in with a mountain of towels, blankets, and bandages. The girl took one look at the blood dripping off Andrew and started crying. Her yelling brought Andrew back, and Beth fought the need to hug him.

He smiled weakly and took a breath, as if allowing himself a few seconds to come into his right mind. “It’s all right, Madie. I’m not dying. I’ve only been shot.” Andrew looked at Beth. “Everyone calm down, including you, wife.”

Teagan cleared his throat, as if hinting that he might not allow any man to talk to his daughter so, but Jessie touched his arm, silently telling him to back away.

Beth almost laughed. She would have bet that the McMurrays couldn’t have cared at all about her new husband, but she’d have been wrong. They liked him enough to worry.

“Lie back,” Jessie ordered Andrew. “I’ll take a look at the leg. The least I can do is have it cleaned when Sage gets here.”

“Sage?” Andrew managed.

Beth answered, “My aunt. She’s a doctor in town. Do you have any problem with a woman doctor?”

“None.” Andrew gritted his teeth. “It hurts like hell.”

While Andrew leaned his head back, silently taking the pain, Teagan slid his knife into the hole in his trousers and cut them open with one slash.

Andrew leaned on his elbows, suddenly having something besides the pain to worry about. “You cut my pants?”

“You weren’t saving them, were you, son?” Teagan looked confused, then glanced at Beth. “I hope Tobin hurries up with Sage. Your husband’s talking out of his head.”

Beth moved beside Andrew before her father stripped any more clothes off. “It’s all right, Andrew.” She patted his arm. “You’re going to be fine.”

He looked at her as if she’d joined the crazy gang in the room trying to kill him. “I know I’m going to be all right.” He said the words slowly, as if hoping she’d hear him. “Could you get me my journal? I don’t want to miss getting any of this down. I’ve never been shot before.”

“He’s gone loco,” Teagan said. “We need to get some whiskey down him.”

“No,” Beth demanded. “If he wants his journal, I’ll get it for him.”

Her papa shook his head. “Why would a man want such a thing at this time? Whiskey, even a gun, I could understand, but a journal?”

Beth ran down the hallway, across the kitchen, and up the back stairs. In panic she rummaged through both their cases, trying to remember where she’d stuffed his journal. He’d filled one on the train and stepped off at a quick stop to grab another one. Now she couldn’t find it.

When she’d gone through everything twice, she ran back downstairs and found his saddlebags. Pulling out dirty clothes, she remembered stuffing it in the side, thinking it would be safe there until they made it to the ranch.

With the cook watching her as if she thought the entire household had gone mad, Beth ran back to the study.

When she returned, her mother had cleaned the wound and wrapped it tightly to keep the bleeding down. Her papa had stuffed enough logs in the fireplace to keep the house warm for days, and Andrew lay back on the desk, now covered with a sheet. Uncle Travis was missing.

“Andrew,” she whispered, and was relieved when he opened his eyes.

The pain was there in his brown eyes, but he hadn’t made a sound.

“I brought you the journal.” She laid it on the table and offered her hand. “Can I help you sit up?”

He locked his fingers around her forearm and as he sat up slowly, she pulled, careful not to move the leg. “The bullet went in about halfway between my hip and knee.” He seemed to be forcing words out. “If you’ll help me get to the chair, I could elevate it and still be able to write.”

Everyone in the room watched as Beth helped him move the few feet to the chair by the fire. Apparently they saw no need to coddle an insane man by offering help.

When he was settled with the journal across his lap, Beth turned to this family of fighters she loved so dearly. “Andrew is a writer. He wants to get what he’s feeling on paper.”

Her papa frowned. “A writer? I thought he was unemployed. Don’t tell me he makes a living writing those articles for the paper he told me about.”

Beth didn’t want to say no, or worse, lie, so she added, “He also writes stories.”

Uncle Travis yelled from the parlor before anyone could comment. In all the excitement no one had noticed Lamont. The man must have revived during the excitement and run from the room the minute everyone moved to the study. He was nowhere to be found.

Uncle Travis was shouting orders as if he still commanded a company of rangers. “Search the house!” He pointed at Madie and the two little boys sitting on the main stairs watching. “Tell one of the men to saddle fresh horses!” Beth jumped, knowing her order. “We’ll need a few days’ supplies. If he’s made it past the bridge, we’ll have to track him. If he can ride—”

“He can ride,” Beth finished. “He wrote me once that on a fast horse not a man alive can catch him.”

Uncle Travis frowned. “My guess is he’s on a McMurray horse by now, but he’s wrong. I’ll catch him.”

Teagan and his brother grabbed their hats and coats. Her papa took the time to lean into the study and say to Andrew, “Don’t die before we get back, son. I want to talk to you about what you write. Damn! I’ve always wanted to meet a writer, and now, when I’ve finally got one right here bleeding in my house, I got to go chase the worthless bum who shot him.”

Beth and her mother laughed, and the house settled. There was nothing to do but wait now. The few inches of snow that had settled over the land during the night would make Lamont easy to track; unfortunately, it would also slow Sage’s progress.

Madie brought them breakfast, but no one in the study ate.

The boys came in, but when Andrew refused to let them see the bullet hole they lost interest and went to the kitchen.

Beth sat across from him and watched her make-believe husband. He was hurting, probably more than he would admit, but he kept writing. Her mother offered him several things to drink, but he kept shaking his head. When Beth changed the bandage, the blood had soaked through the layers of cotton.

“You’re bleeding again,” she said as she knelt beside him to wash the wound gently. “It’s lucky you found a wife who doesn’t faint at the sight of blood.”

He looked up from his journal and brushed his hand over her head. “Lucky.” He winked at her.

“Bleeding is a good sign, I’ve heard,” Jessie interrupted. “It means the wound is cleaning itself. Less chance of infection, maybe. I’ll go set everything out that Sage might need when she gets here and make more coffee. It’s going to be a long morning.” The little lady smiled down at him. “Will you be all right while I’m gone?”

“I’ll watch over him,” Beth said as she draped a blanket over his legs.

Looking up, she watched her mother take the bandages out of the room and added, “Don’t you dare die on me before we get you doctored properly.”

“I don’t think I have enough blood left to argue.” He tried to act like he was joking when she gave him a worried look.

“You shouldn’t have stepped in the way. You wouldn’t have been shot.”

“But you might have.” He tried to make his words light. “There seems to be something in me that doesn’t want you to die.”

She leaned forward and brushed the hair away from his forehead, feeling the warmth beneath her touch. “Maybe you have a death wish and you figure your best chance for dying a hero is to stand near me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not a hero, Beth. Or at least I never thought I was until I met you.”

“Are you in much pain?” she asked.

“No. It’s settled into a dull ache. I want to finish this article before the doctor has to cut the bullet out. I’m afraid I’ll lose my train of thought once I start screaming.”

“What can I do?”

He studied her. “Don’t listen if I scream, and if I pass out, make sure you’re the last face I see. I don’t want to float through unconsciousness without you by my side.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. “There is something very lovable about you, Andrew.”

“That stray-puppy look I have?”

“It’s a shaggy-puppy look, and no, that is not all that makes you lovable.”

He winked. “Just don’t leave me here with your crazy relatives. Your father would kill me if I died before he had a chance to talk to me. Your mother seems to think scrubbing a wound is part of nursing, and I’m not sure, but I think your Uncle Travis is just here for what he thinks is fun. He looked his happiest during the shooting.”

Before she could argue that her family was perfectly sane, Madie rushed into the room. “The priest is here, Mrs. McLaughlin.”

Beth started to ask a question, but a man in a priest’s robe stepped up behind Madie. He wasn’t tall or built for strength, but he was handsome in his way. She’d guess him in his thirties. He had dark hair and eyes that twinkled with laughter.

“Top of the morning to you.” He stepped into the room, waving hands that looked like he should be directing an orchestra. “I’m Father Benjamin. The men on the road told me there had been a shooting here. They were in a hurry and gave no details, so I feel called to come to offer my prayers for the afflicted.” His intelligent gaze studied the room as if searching for someone who was absent. “The young lady who let me in said it was a Mr. Andrew McLaughlin who had been injured. I presume you are he, so I’ll humbly offer my services.” He made a small bow.

“That’s kind of you, Father, but I’m not dying.” Andrew studied the priest carefully, but Beth could see nothing amiss.

“We’re all dying, son. Some of us faster than others. I myself have dreamed of my headstone so many times I swear I’ve seen it.”

Andrew closed his journal. “Beth, dear, would you get the priest some coffee? While you’re gone, I’d like to ask him to take my confession.”

Beth stood, feeling confused and a little frightened. What if Andrew knew something she didn’t? He could be hurt worse than she thought. “Yes, of course,” she managed as she stood and moved to the door.

“And close the door for a few minutes, will you, love?”

“Yes,” she said, and followed his orders.

In the hallway, she took a deep breath and fought back fear.