Stained Snow (25 page)

“Don’t know. George thinks it’s probably Will’s folks.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “They did come.”

His face grim, he nodded. “Hope it’s not to bury him.”

She fought back a sob and put her hand on his arm. He went rigid under her. She dropped her hand again. She hated how stiff things had become between them. How distant he suddenly seemed. Really ever since William had come back to marry her.

She brought her gaze back up to him. “We used to be friends, Adam.”

“We’re still friends. I just can’t…I’m sorry, Maggie. I can’t do it.” He looked away from her.

Her pa helped the woman down from the wagon. She moved toward the edge of the porch, but Adam had already gone down the steps. He took the horse’s reins from the man and spoke to George for a moment. Her pa headed up toward the house with the couple.

She saw it as soon as they came close. The woman had Will’s eyes. The rest of her reminded Maggie of Thomas. William must have taken more after his father. Her gaze shifted to the man walking beside her. He reminded her of Will, too, even though they shared no blood. Something about the way he carried himself.

She stepped away from the railing and took his hand. “Mr. Bailey?”

“Patrick, please,” he said.

She nodded and looked past him to the woman. “Mrs. Bailey. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened to my boy?”

Tears streaked down her face. She couldn’t keep herself from putting a hand to her stomach. “He saved me and could die because of it.”

His mother’s gaze tracked down to where Maggie’s hand rested then shot back to her face. Maggie saw the question in her eyes and nodded. “We married three months ago. It may have gotten him killed.”

“I think maybe you should start from the beginning,” Patrick said, his hand on his wife’s back. “Maggie, was it?”

Her father must have told him. She nodded, but before she could say more, George stepped up beside them. “Why don’t we all go inside so we can do that?”

Patrick steered his wife up the steps and to the door behind Maggie. “I’m sorry,” she told them. “I don’t have anything to serve you right now. I can put some coffee on or…” She trailed off when Patrick held up a hand.

“It’s fine. I just want to know what happened to my boy.”

She twisted her fingers together and looked down at the table. “It actually starts before William came here.”

Her pa’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this, Maggie. It’s not important.”

“It is. Because it all ties in together, Pa. You know it does.”

She glanced across the table to William’s parents again. “Spring before last, someone else came to the ranch. He didn’t stick around for long, but he kept coming back.” She kept telling the story of how she’d gotten to know Thomas, how he’d charmed her. “I thought he’d take me away from here.” She sent an apologetic look to her father, but his face was calm. “I’ve never been,” she said, looking back across the table.

Pain flared in the woman’s eyes and knowledge in Patrick’s. “Thomas,” he said.

Maggie nodded, tears tracking down her cheeks. Still, she continued the story through after he’d come back. After he must have killed Anna. She couldn’t stop the flow of tears now. “He said someone would be coming after him. He didn’t want to put me in danger. He really didn’t care.”

Silence fell as she cried, then the woman’s hand covered hers. “What happened?”

She lifted her face and wiped tears away. “Nothing for about six months. Pa came back from town with a body in the back of the wagon. He’d been shot twice. I didn’t know if he’d make it.” She didn’t worry about wiping away tears anymore.

“After he woke, he said his name was Will Bailey.” She looked up at Patrick, saw the slight smile on his face. “He didn’t know who to trust, so he took your name.”

“I’d always wanted to give it to him.” His voice was gruff at the words.

She nodded. “There was something familiar about him, but they didn’t look that much alike.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Patrick said, his voice a deep rumble.

“You’re right. They’re not. I wish I would have seen it before.” She looked over at her father, a flush rising to her cheeks then back over at his parents.

“You might not believe it, but I didn’t seduce him. We…I’m sorry,” she said, breaking down into tears. A small hand squeezed hers, and her father’s came to her shoulder. She calmed herself and rested a hand on her stomach again.

“You can obviously see what we did. Pa caught us,” she said, her eyes glued to the table as her cheeks reddened even more. “Will didn’t touch me again.” Her father’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “A couple days later, there were shots. Will was grazed by a bullet, but no one else was hurt. He was sure it was his brother.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Patrick muttered. Will’s mother only sobbed. Patrick put an arm around Sarah and pulled her closer.

She told them about Will riding off and finding out she carried his child. She glanced over at her father. His face had grown ruddy. “We married a few days after he returned.”

She ran her hand over her swollen stomach again. When the baby kicked that hand, she wanted to burst into tears. “I thought everything would be okay. He still wanted to find Tommy, but he didn’t leave me.”

“Until I made him.” Her father’s voice was low and rough. She hated that he blamed himself. Before she could say anything, he continued, “I had a contract with the Army. To ship beef to them at their new fort near Denver. I figured we’d only be gone a couple days, and I left a couple men here. He was getting antsy. I thought it would do him good.”

“Pa.” She reached out to him, but he shook his head.

“He must have been watching for us to leave. He hit my foreman over the head. Shot one of my other men.” He glanced away. “We buried him over a week ago.”

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” Will’s mother sobbed.

“It’s like when he took Anna and David from Will.” Patrick’s arm tightened around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s no one’s fault but Thomas’”

“Thomas took me,” Maggie continued. “He knew Will would come after me. He set a trap. Will did as he expected.” The words nearly stuck in her throat.

“Where’s my son?” Will’s mother pushed back from the table.

“Which one?” George asked quietly.

“Well, Tommy’s dead, isn’t he?” she snapped.

“Sarah,” Patrick said, a warning in his voice, but she shook her head.

“Yes,” Maggie answered her. “Thomas is dead. He’d already shot William three times. I shot him before he could finish Will off. I only wanted to stop him. I’m not sorry he’s dead, though.”

“Maggie.”

Sarah shook her head before George could say any more. “She’s right. I protected him for so long, and he’s caused so much hurt. I’m the one who should be sorry.” She looked back to Maggie. “Can I see my son?”

She got to her feet. “I’ll show you to him.”

She hoped he hadn’t let go yet.

Chapter 28

William floated in and out of consciousness. Sometimes the pain was nearly unbearable. Sometimes he floated in a cloud where he couldn’t feel anything. Then, there were the dreams. The ones where he saw Anna and David. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach them. Through it all, his brother laughed, as if he enjoyed the torment. Flames licked at his feet, at his skin. He must have gone to Hell for his sins, for failing his family, for betraying his wife.

Then, a blessed coolness. Maybe he had been forgiven. Maybe he finally made it to heaven. The pain was back now. He wouldn’t feel this much pain in heaven, would he? A hand restrained his shoulder, and he fought back against it. He had to figure out where he was and get to his family.

There was something else he needed to do, too. What was it? Maggie. The name echoed in his head. Was Maggie safe? Adam had been getting her out of there. She would be fine without him.

He was wet. Was it raining? He jerked his head. What was that sound? Something sniffling, snuffing. A bear? No. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t in the woods. There weren’t bears in heaven. Or hell. Then, a voice got through to him.

“Will, please don’t leave me. Please come back to me. I can’t lose you. I need you here. Our baby will need you. Please, come back.”

More rain fell on his face. Down his neck. Not rain. An image formed in his mind. Maggie. Tears rolled down her face. She held out a small bundle to him. Their baby. No. His face tightened as he struggled to think. That wasn’t right. The baby wasn’t born yet. The image of his wife kept pushing it toward him. He couldn’t reach them. Anna and David stood beyond them. Tears shone on his first wife’s face then came the smile that always made her so bright.

Maggie’s name formed on his lips.

Suddenly more noises filtered through the cloud surrounding him. The snapping of a fire. Boots thudding across the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Humming came from another direction. The clicking of needles together. A familiar image jumped fully formed into his head of his mother sitting in her rocking chair, her knitting in her lap as he sat at her feet.

Another voice. “My son’s strong, dear. He’ll come back to you.”

“Ma.” His voice cracked on the single word.

Suddenly all the noises stopped. He struggled to pry his eyes open. Finally, a slit of light came through his lids. Maggie’s brown hair cascaded down, brushing across his shoulder. Slim feet moved at the edge of his vision, and his mother knelt down beside him. “Will, oh, Will.”

Maggie dropped her head to his chest and sobs wracked her body. “Maggie.” He barely managed to get her name out and even that left him breathless. He floated again.

When William woke again, a hand rested on his arm. Less confused now, he cracked his eyes open. Patrick sat there next to his bed. He hadn’t dreamed his Ma there. “Pa.” The lone sound croaked out of his mouth and made his throat hurt.

The older man jumped at his voice. “Oh, Will. Thank God. We thought we might have lost you, too.”

William opened his mouth, but no sound would come out. Patrick sensed his distress. “I’ll get you some water. You must be parched.”

He left William’s bedside, but it wasn’t him who brought the tin cup of water to him a few moments later. His lips might have curved up when Maggie stepped into the room, but he couldn’t be sure.

Seeing her brought a little of his strength back. She put a hand under his head and lifted it before holding the cup to his lips. When he would have gulped the water, she only let it slide little by little down his throat. “Slow now,” she murmured. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

After drinking, his throat burned less, but it had used up most of his strength as well. Maggie kissed his forehead then ran a finger down his cheek. “Rest,” she murmured. “You’re back with us now, so rest.”

#

So it went. He’d sleep. When he’d wake, someone would bring him water, or some food, and then he’d sleep again. He didn’t know how long this went on. He had no way to track the days. No one would speak of what happened, saying he needed to gain his strength back. Sometimes he saw a pain, a grief, in Maggie’s eyes. He wanted to ask her about it, but he lacked even the strength for that. She’d assured him she was fine, as was the baby. Nothing else should matter.

Should it?

His mother sat with him for a time every day. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He’d woken once to her crying, sure she still blamed him.

She sat there now, knitting quietly, while he couldn’t do more than stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Ma,” he finally said.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her set her knitting aside. She moved closer to his bed. “No, Will,” she said. “I am the one who is sorry. I always protected him. I shouldn’t have. I saw the way he treated you, and I excused it. You looked so much like your father. I was sure it hurt him as much as it did me.”

She brushed hair away from his face, and he closed his eyes. “I never even knew him. It wasn’t my fault.”

Her fingers stilled. “Of course it wasn’t, Will. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I didn’t blame you.”

He shook his head slightly. “He did. It’s one of the things he said to me that day.”

“Lord, Will. I am sorry. I had no idea he harbored those thoughts. I didn’t know he would hurt Anna. I didn’t even want to think it. It’s why I was so harsh with you. I couldn’t accept one of my boys had that darkness inside. I should have known.”

“We tried to show you. You wouldn’t believe us.”

Her next words were quiet. “I didn’t want to accept it. I’ve known it since your sister died. Do you remember her?”

He did, but he was surprised she mentioned it. She’d barely spoken the baby’s name in at least fifteen years. “I do.”

“We convinced ourselves she smothered herself in her blankets. An accident. Well, I forced myself to believe it. When we buried her, he smiled. He never cried over her, not once. Never showed any grief. Instead he smiled. I knew then but wouldn’t let myself think it.”

She brought her gaze to his face. “I’m sorry, Will. I should have done something about him then. Instead of convincing myself I was wrong about him.”