Texas Brides Collection (60 page)

“Are you still praying?” he asked Clancy.

The old man nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt for you to do the same thing.”

“I’m not ready for religion, but I’m glad you’re on speaking terms with God. I’m worried about Anne and the girls.”

Clancy nodded. “She likes you, Colt. I can see it in her eyes. She hasn’t looked at a man like that since Will.”

“Naw. She’s just glad I wasn’t killed today, and she doesn’t have to go looking for another ranch hand.”

But Colt wondered. He didn’t deserve as fine a woman as Anne. Neither did he deserve two spunky girls like Sammie Jo and Nancy. But the thought made him feel good—real good.

Anne tried to concentrate on helping Rosita with dinner. Instead, her thoughts raced with the shooting—Hank and Thomas dead for no visible reason…Clancy and Colt shot…and why?

She’d never had any trouble like this. Hard work was one thing. Raising two daughters and running the ranch left her tired and oftentimes grumpy. But murder downright scared her.

Had Will left enemies who just now decided to whip out calling cards? Her husband had confessed to so much law breaking. At the time, she hid her fright and focused on keeping him comfortable. A dying man usually had a wagonload of regrets and things he wanted to say. He hadn’t given her names or mentioned that her life and the girls’ lives were in danger. Five years had passed since then. Surely this was something completely different from Will’s acquaintances seeking revenge. She hoped so. She prayed so.

A twinge, like a knife twisting in an open wound, startled her. The trouble began just before Colt arrived. Was he a part of this? She shook her head to dispel the frightening thought. He’d been in prison before coming to the Double L, which caused her to suspect him, but today he’d been hurt worse than Clancy. She refused to believe he’d taken part in what happened. Perhaps God had sent her an outlaw to run off outlaws. Peculiar thought. For certain, she wasn’t in the business of second-guessing the hand of the Almighty.

“Mama, do you like Mr. Colt?” Sammie Jo asked.

Anne turned the soft biscuit dough in her hands. “He’s a good worker, and he helped save Clancy’s and Thatcher Lee’s lives today.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

“Sammie Jo, I’m not sure what you mean.” But Anne understood exactly what her daughter meant, and she had no intentions of answering.

“Do you like him the same as Daddy?”

Anne’s heart pounded like an Indian drum. “Why ever would you ask me such a thing?”

“Because I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you.”

“I think your dreamin’ on Thatcher Lee has gone to your head.” Anne hoped her words sounded gruff.

Sammie Jo giggled. “You answered my question. How would Daddy feel about you takin’ up with an outlaw? Especially one who’s a heathen? The way I look at it, you two could marry up and then have other outlaws at the ranch looking for work and free food.”

“Child, I’m going to take a switch to your backside if you don’t stop pestering me. Do you understand? No more such foolishness.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Anne saw a grin spread over her daughter’s face. Mercy, did the whole world see her interest in Colt Wilson?

“We’re having church,” Clancy said.

Colt wanted to sleep. His leg hurt. Clancy’s arm had to hurt, too. Irritability inched through his veins like a slow-rising flood.

“Can’t do that,” Colt said. “Anne told us to sleep. We need to heal and get back to work.”

“God said to honor His day.”

“Still can’t. We didn’t take our Saturday night bath.”

“Fine. I’m reading from the Bible, and you can lay there and listen.”

Clancy fumbled under his bunk while Colt rolled over to head back to sleep.

“Doesn’t your arm hurt?”

Clancy chuckled. “Yeah, but when I think about what our Lord did on the cross for me, it makes no difference.”

Colt moaned.
Here it comes
. Preaching with a one-man congregation. Next Clancy would be asking him to confess and head to the creek to wash away his sins.

“This morning the good Lord’s leading me to read from Genesis, the story of Jacob and Esau.”

“And who are they?”

“Brothers who never got along.”

Colt blew out an exasperated sigh. “I have three, and we fought all the time we were growing up.”

Clancy cleared his throat. “Lord, we ask Your blessing on the reading of Your Word. Make sure Colt listens. I’m beginning in Genesis chapter 25, verse 19.”

Colt half listened, half dozed through the story about twins named Jacob and Esau. One was his daddy’s favorite, and the other was his mama’s. Colt had been a part of such a family. He hadn’t been anyone’s favorite. All of a sudden, Clancy had his attention.

“You mean Esau sold his inheritance for a bowl of soup?”

“Yep. He must have been powerful hungry.”

“More like a fool.” Colt opened his eyes. He’d listen a little more. “How did those two get in the Bible? One is a fool, and the other lies to his own daddy.”

“The Bible is full of sinful people. I know you’ve heard the preacher say how none of us is perfect. Now will you hush and let me finish?”

So Colt listened. Jacob had to take off because Esau threatened to kill him for getting the inheritance. His mama sent him to live with her people. Then Jacob fell in love. Colt was beginning to understand how that felt, too. “None of those fellers is decent,” he said. “Jacob worked seven years for Rachel, then got stuck with her ugly sister and had to work seven more years.” He started to say more, but Clancy shot him one of those “shut up and listen” looks.

The story went on, and Colt started to drift off to sleep until Clancy got to the part about the angel breaking Jacob’s leg and how he limped to meet Esau. Jacob was scared his brother was going to kill him, and Colt understood those feelings, too. He’d been a horrible bully to his brothers. It worked out for Jacob and Esau, but those men had been real bad.

“What do you think?” Clancy asked.

“I’m thinking on it. Jacob wasn’t much better than an outlaw until he wrestled with the angel. He turned himself into bein’ a decent man after that.”

“What about you?”

Here comes the confessing-your-sins part
. “What about me?”

“Looks to me like you’re changing into a different man from the one who rode in here. God must be wrestling with you, too.”

Colt didn’t say a word. Clancy closed his Bible and placed it back under his bed.

“I’m going to rest a little,” Clancy said. “My arm’s on fire.”

“And my leg feels like someone branded it.”

Me, wrestling with an angel? The only thing I wrestle with are all the things I’ve done in the past—and if I’d ever be good enough for Anne and the girls
.

W
aiting for his leg to heal gave Colt plenty of time to think about what had happened the day he and Clancy were shot. Repeatedly he walked his mind back through every moment of that day. He recalled the way the wind blew and questioned if the birds he heard were actually calls made by men. Sights and smells lingered in his thoughts. When he’d crawled through brush and grass, he’d seen no signs of men.

The mystery of it all puzzled him, and he and Clancy filled their waking hours talking about who could have done the killings.

“If I believed in ghosts, I’d say they fired on us,” Colt said.

“Does seem real strange, and I was quite a tracker in my day.” Clancy rubbed his whiskered jaw. “I even wondered if a small band of renegade Indians could have done it. But nothing I recall showed any signs of ’em.”

“I’ve laid here three days thinking about this and haven’t come up with a thing.” Colt glanced around. “I’m fixin’ to use the crutch Thatcher Lee made for me and get out of this bunkhouse for some fresh air.”

“Walkin’ around helps. At least I can get out of here. I imagine the bunkhouse feels like pris—.” He stopped himself. “I’ll help you the best I can.”

“We’ve turned into a couple of helpless old men,” Colt said.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve got another twenty good years left in me.”

Colt glanced at the old man’s silver hair and weather-beaten face. “How many lines can your face hold?”

“As many as it takes to make sure Anne and the girls are safe and you find the Lord.”

“He doesn’t want me, Clancy. I don’t like church, and my singing sounds like it came from a hollow bucket.”

“Oh, He wants you powerful bad. You just don’t have sense enough to realize it.” Clancy stood and grasped the makeshift crutch. “I don’t always like the preacher’s sermons, either, and my singing sounds like a hurt wolf. It ain’t about that at all. It’s about realizing you need something you don’t have. Something that is more powerful than what any man can get on his own.”

Out of respect for Clancy, Colt kept his thoughts to himself because he wasn’t in the mood for preachin’. The pain in his leg felt like liquid fire. Truth be known, he’d been thinkin’ on God and the stories Clancy had read to him from the Bible. The story about Jacob and Esau had hit close to home. Clancy said they were true, and lately Colt hoped they were.

Sweat streamed down Colt’s face by the time he hobbled out of the bunkhouse and made his way to a shady tree—the one Nancy had climbed. He sat beneath it and stretched out his burning leg. Frustrated with the time it was taking to heal when he wanted to ride out to where the shooting took place made him want to tear into the first man who crossed his path.

“Can you leave me alone?” he asked Clancy. “I need time to think about a few things.”

“Sure. When God is working on a man, he needs time by himself.”

Clancy made his way to the barn, and Colt felt a little guilty for letting the man think he had religion on his mind. Leaning against the oak tree, he closed his eyes and willed the throbbing to end.

“Mr. Colt.”

Nancy’s sweet voice didn’t irritate him at all. That little girl had stolen his heart.

“What can I do for you?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” She sat in the grass beside him, her bare feet caked with dried mud.

“You been wadin’?”

She nodded. “I was looking for frogs. I found a little one.” She reached inside her overalls and pulled it out. “I’m going to feed him some tasty bugs.”

He chuckled. “I always thought little girls played like they were grown women.”

“Sometimes I do. I like both.”

“What about Sammie Jo?”

“Mama makes her learn cooking stuff, but she’d rather be ridin’ or explorin’.”

Alarm weighed on Colt’s mind. “Promise me something.”

She gazed up at him with huge, trusting eyes.

“Promise me you and Sammie Jo won’t go explorin’ very far from the ranch.”

“Why? Because of what happened to you and Clancy?”

“That’s right. This leg of mine hurts powerful bad, and I wouldn’t want you to hurt, too.”

She nodded. “I promise. Sammie Jo’s braver than me, so I’ll tell her what you said.”

“Would she listen to anyone besides you and me?” Colt recognized the older girl’s stubbornness and figured she’d do the opposite of what he or Nancy asked.

“Maybe Thatcher Lee. She’s still sneaking around and seeing him.” Nancy stared into Colt’s face. “He’s a grown man, Mr. Colt. Mama would whip her good if she knew.”