The Gunslinger (8 page)

 

Chapter 8

T
H
E LATE AFTERNOON
air hung heavy around Chance as he walked among the trees lining the banks of the river, Lillian's small hand nestled within his larger one as though it belonged there. They'd brought the boy swimming, and Chance could hear the muted gurgling of the nearby flowing stream. They'd left the boy to give him some privacy as he put back on his clothes. Chance welcomed the excuse to be alone with Lillian. He was dying for an opportunity to kiss her.

He stopped walking and faced her. The sun had whispered across her face, leaving her cheeks glowing a rosy red. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget the shape of her face. “I want to have a meeting with John Ward. I'm thinking the troubles would go away if he knew the truth.”

She hesitated a moment before she nodded thoughtfully. “And when the troubles go away, you'll go away.”

He saw the sorrow sweep into her eyes. He was both humbled and terrified with the knowledge that she cared for him. He lowered his head, touched his mouth to hers and kissed her, gathering the memories close so he could unfurl them at night beside the campfire. She welcomed him as no one else ever had. She made him want to stay—when he knew he had to go.

He drew back and brushed his thumb over her swollen lower lip. “I'm not what you need, lady.”

“But you're what I want.”

Explosions rent the still air. Chance felt the pain tear through his back as he pulled Lillian close, withdrew his gun, and plunged over the embankment, giving them some protection. They landed hard amid dry leaves and brush.

“Can you get to the boy and horses?” he asked.

“Who do you think is out there?”

“My guess is that Ward hired his gun. Ride out of here and get the sheriff. I'll hold them off while you get away.”

He heard more gunfire, stretched up and got off two shots before quickly ducking back down. Several returning bullets chunked bits of bark off the nearby trees.

“You can't stay here,” she told him.

“I've got no choice. Someone needs to distract him. Now go!”

She leaned forward as though to kiss him briefly, then reeled back, horror etched across her face as she stared at the bright red blood coating her hand. Wrenching his duster aside, she gasped at the blood flowing freely, drenching his shirt and trousers. His side felt as though someone had built a blazing fire within him.

“We've gotta get you to a doctor,” she said.

He cradled her cheek, despising the way his hand trembled. He held her gaze, hating the truth he had to impart. “I'm hurt bad, Lillian. Take the boy and get to safety. Tell the sheriff that Ward finally did something he can arrest him for.”

“I won't leave you to die. I'll send Toby—”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her close. “And who the hell is gonna take care of your brother if you're killed? You were a sweet roll in the hay, lady, but that's all you are to me. Now get the hell out of here.”

She pulled back, tears brimming in her eyes. “That's a damn lie. You're just trying to make me leave.”

He drew her against him, unable to stand the anguish in her eyes. He brushed his lips against her soft hair. “My life has meant nothing. For God's sake, let my death mean something. Take the time I can buy you and get out of here.”

He heard her muffled sob before she withdrew from his hold and gave him a jerky nod. He slipped his shaking fingers into his pocket but couldn't latch onto a matchstick. She brushed his hand aside, reached into his pocket, withdrew a matchstick and slipped it into his mouth.

His voice nearly strangled him. “Thanks.”

“I love you,” she whispered hoarsely before scrambling down the embankment toward the horses and Toby. He peered over the edge and fired twice, taking satisfaction in a man's yell. Then he dropped back down. He looked over his shoulder and saw Lillian and Toby riding out. Relief swamped him along with the blackness. His final thought was that he'd finally acquired something worth living for, but it was too late.

S
I
TTING UNEASILY ASTRI
DE
his horse on a rise, John Ward listened as the echo of guns firing rang from the trees. For his mother's sake, he wanted the woman run off. The fella he'd just hired would only get paid if he got the job done.

Riding along the river that separated his land from the whore's, keeping a look out for strays while he discussed with two of his men where he wanted a new barbed-wire fence strung up, he had instantly gone on alert when the first shots rang out. It sounded as though the man he'd hired was in the process of earning his money.

“Should we check it out, boss?” Guthrie asked.

John considered, then shook his head. “No.”

“It's the gal's land,” Hop said. “She might be in trouble.”

“She's got Wilder looking out for her.” Although, truth be told, it sounded like she had a whole army. Then he spotted her urging her horse into a gallop as she cleared a copse of trees and waved something white over her head. A flag of surrender. No, petticoats. He didn't want to recognize a spark of respect for her gumption.

She drew her horse to a halt. “John Ward, I'll give you everything you want if he doesn't die!”

He eased his horse forward. “Who?”

“Chance Wilder. Your man shot him. Stop him from killing him. Send someone for a doctor. Don't let him die.”

“You're willing to give up the land and house for a gunslinger?”

She nodded quickly. “Please, help him.”

Her plea, the worry in her eyes, almost had him feeling remorse for his actions and treatment of her. He hadn't gotten a good look at her the night he'd visited, but he could see her clearly now. She was so much younger than he'd thought. What had possessed his father to go after her? Had he wanted to recapture his youth, most of which he'd lost in the war?

Suddenly silence reigned.

Devastation washing over her pretty face, she jerked her head around to gaze back at the trees. He wouldn't feel guilty if the gunslinger was dead, but when she looked back at him, he knew he would have many a restless night if the man died.

“I swear I'll do whatever you want. But please—”

“Hop, head into town,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish. “Fetch the doc and the land agent. Guthrie, check out what happened on the other side of the river. If Wilder is still alive, take him to—” He had to search for her name. He'd called her his father's whore ever since he'd discovered she existed. “—Miss Madison's.”

“Yes, boss.”

Both his men took off at a gallop. John could tell by the cloud of worry in her eyes that she wanted to return to Wilder, but she'd stayed to honor the bargain. He couldn't let her into his house, not where his mother might catch sight of her.

“How did you meet my father?” he asked.

“You don't get my history, Mr. Ward. All you get is my house.”

He couldn't stop the small smile that formed. “My father always liked a woman with gumption.” Not that his mother had fit that description. He'd always thought his parents an odd pairing, his mother constantly needing reassurance. But his father had pampered her, given her all she wanted, except a faithful husband.

John nodded in the direction of the trees. “Go on. I'll meet you at your place with the land agent. We'll finish this business today.”

Without another word, she urged her horse into a gallop. A shame she brought such pain to his mother. He thought he might have enjoyed getting to know the gal.

T
HE RAIN FELL
softly on his face, and the fragrance of roses in their first bloom wafted around him. He heard the voice of an angel whispering his name and felt her gentle fingers caress his brow. He'd expected to drop straight into Hell, and here he was: on the other side of Heaven.

Struggling through the agony, desperate to gaze upon the angel's face, he forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him and a halo of light circled the angel. Tears glistened over her lovely face as she smiled tenderly. His heart tightened with a bittersweet pain that made the throbbing in his side pale in comparison.

“Hello,” she whispered, her voice low, as though she feared anything she might say would bring him pain.

He licked his parched lips. She brought a glass of water to his mouth. He drank slowly, having been shot too many times not to know better than to take his time adjusting to the land of the living. “I'm not dead,” he croaked inanely.

Her smile widened. “No. You were lucky.”

“The other fella?”

“You shot him a couple of times, but he's recovering as well, from what I understand.”

“He'll be at my back someday.”

“I don't think so. It's likely he lost the use of his arm, at least when it comes to drawing a gun.”

“The boy?”

“Toby's fine.”

“Good. Good.” Nodding, he drifted back into oblivion.

Lillian pressed a kiss to Chance's brow before gently wiping her tears from his beloved face. They'd found him and the other man unconscious, lying in the dirt, bleeding into the ground. They'd brought Chance here and taken the hired gun to Ward's. Before she'd signed the deed over to John Ward, she'd made him promise to pay the man enough, offer him a position at his ranch, so he would never feel the need to seek revenge against Chance. She'd been surprised that Ward capitulated so quickly. He wasn't a bad man. She understood the reasons behind his actions. They were motivated by his love for his mother—just as hers were motivated by her love for Chance.

“Think he'll live?” Toby asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at her brother. “He'll be weak for a while, but his fever broke and the wound is healing, so I think he's going to recover.”

“He ain't gonna like what you did, Lil.”

She touched Toby's arm. “We're not going to tell him. It'll stay our secret.”

His face skewed into unhappiness, Toby nodded.

Gently, she squeezed his shoulder. “And as hard as it'll be, we have to let him go.”

 

Chapter 9

C
HANCE SLUNG HIS
saddlebags over his horse's rump. A week of being laid up in bed had nearly driven him insane. He hadn't regained all his strength, but he'd gained enough to know Lillian Madison was anxious to see his back headed down the road.

“Where will you go?” Toby asked.

“Whichever way the wind blows,” he said. He darted a glance at the woman standing calmly on the porch, watching his actions as though they meant nothing to her, as though he meant nothing to her. “So how long do you think this ‘understanding' with John Ward will last?” he asked.

“Forever. You were right. Once I explained everything, he was extremely accommodating. He won't bother me and Toby anymore.”

He didn't believe her, not for one minute. Something had happened between the time he'd blacked out and the moment he'd awakened in her bed, but he wasn't exactly sure what. The woman had been incredibly vague with the details, refusing to meet his gaze whenever the topic came up. Even when she'd despised what he did for a living, she'd met his gaze head on. He was willing to bet his life that she was hiding something. With a great deal of effort, he pulled himself into the saddle.

“You got the string?” the boy asked.

Chance smiled. He was going to miss the kid. “Yep.” He shifted his gaze to Lillian. His throat constricted and he knew he wouldn't be able to push out any words, so he simply touched his finger to the brim of his hat and gave a brusque nod. She could have been a statue standing there. She didn't even bother to lift a hand in farewell.

After guiding his horse past her, he began galloping toward the sunset. And he never once looked back.

“
I
T
'S MY UNDERSTANDING
that you won't be bothering Miss Madison anymore,” Chance said, standing in John Ward's office.

“That's right.”

“And how do I know you won't change your mind?”

“No reason for me to. She traded the deed to her land for your life.”

Chance's gut knotted up so tightly, he nearly keeled over. “What?”

John Ward shook his head, smiling. “It was something to see. She came galloping up from the river, waving her petticoat like a white flag. Said you'd been shot. She swore she'd sign over the deed to her land if I sent one of my boys for the doctor. Couldn't pass up an offer like that. Brought the land agent along with the doctor, and she signed the deed over to me right on the spot. Now that you're well enough, she ought to be packing up and moving on.”

“Where's she gonna go?”

“I've got no idea and I don't care. She'll be off the land and that's all that matters to me. Her presence was breaking my mother's heart.”

“I imagine your father is rolling over in his grave,” Chance said.

Ward stiffened. “He had no right to bring his whore here.”

“She wasn't his whore. She's his daughter.”

Chance heard a soft gasp. He spun around. A silver-haired woman stood in the doorway. She pounded her cane on the floor. “John, make this man take his bald-faced lies out of this house!”

John Ward studied his mother. “Are they lies, Mother? Or have you been dishonest with me?”

Tears filled her eyes, spilled over onto her papery cheeks. “I told him not to bring her here, but he said he owed her. He loved her mother during the war, but it was just to punish me because I wouldn't live in Galveston with him. I didn't want to be where the Yankees might be.” She hit her cane on the floor. “I don't want her here.”

“Why did you tell me she was father's whore?”

The elderly woman sank into a chair. “Because I knew you wouldn't send her away if you knew the truth. If you knew she is . . . your sister.” She fairly spat out the last word. Chance wanted to feel sorry for her, but he couldn't, not when she'd caused Lillian so much pain.

Ward crossed the room and knelt before his mother. “You're punishing an innocent woman for the sins of my father.”

“He had no right to parade her in front of me.”

“He wasn't parading her,” Ward said. “He was striving to make amends.”

Chance strode across the room. Ward snapped his head around. “Where are you going?”

“I'm leaving. I found out what I came here to learn.”

L
ILLIAN SAW THE
rider silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. After setting the box into the back of the wagon, she lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the glare. Clothed in black, the man sat tall in the saddle. Her heart leapt into her throat. He wasn't supposed to return.

Toby rounded the corner. “Hey, Lil, can I—” He came to an abrupt halt. Then his eyes widened as the rider drew his horse to a halt. “Chance!” He bounded across the short expanse separating them. Smiling broadly, he craned his head so he could look up. “You came back!”

“Sure did,” Chance said in a low voice as he slowly dismounted. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a length of frayed string. “Here, Toby, you can have this back.”

Toby snatched it out of his hand. “Great! I was needing some string.”

Lillian stared at Chance. “You said his name.”

“Yes, I did, Lillian,” he said as he stalked toward her, his eyes narrowed. “You gave Ward the deed to the land. You told me it was important to you.”

“You're more important.”

He jerked her into his embrace, and she felt the rapid pounding of his heart beneath her cheek. “Damn you, Lillian, why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I knew you'd get angry, or worse, you'd feel that you owed me, that you might decide you needed to look after me or see me situated somewhere else. I didn't want you beholden.”

“Why did you give him the land?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

She tilted her head up and met his gaze. “Because I love you.”

If she didn't know better, she would have thought he'd taken a good solid punch to the gut, but his silver eyes warmed. He cradled her face between his hands. “I've got some land west of here. There's nothing on it, except a couple of pigs—”

She shook her head. “Once before, I took land in place of a man's love. It's a poor substitute. I won't do it again.”

“And what if my love comes with the land?” With his thumbs, he caressed her cheeks. “I don't know if it'll work, but I'm thinking if I hang up my gun and we live a quiet life for a while . . . maybe my reputation will fade. Right now all I have is a long stretch of lonesome waiting for me down the road, and I want more. I want a home, a wife, a family. I want you.”

She smiled softly, her heart humming with happiness. At the echo of thundering hooves, she turned her head. Chance released her and stepped back, slipping a match between his teeth. She didn't know if she could live like this, constantly wondering when the last bullet would come.

The rider drew his horse to a halt. Her heart slammed against her ribs as John Ward stared intensely down at her. Straightening her shoulders, angling her chin, she met his gaze.

“You have his eyes,” he said quietly. “I didn't notice that before, and I should have.”

Her knees weakened with the realization that he knew the truth—and how he'd come to know it. She looked at Chance. “You told him.”

He nodded. “My temper got the best of me. Besides, he needed to know.”

“I'm glad he told me,” John said. “I owe you an apology, Miss . . . Ward. Your name should be Ward, and I'm ashamed my father didn't do right by you. Even more ashamed that I treated you unfairly, that I assumed the worst and reacted as though you deserved to be considered less. Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't give me much opportunity.”

“But on the ridge, when you offered to trade back the house for Wilder's life—why not tell me then?”

“I didn't think it would make things between us any better. I doubted you'd believe me.” She shook her head. “No, that's not it. We should be honest with each other now. The truth was, Mr. Ward, I wasn't certain I wanted to acknowledge being the sister of a man who was willing to do the things you were. Chance Wilder may be a gun-for-hire, but he's honest about it. Men who face him know what he is, know the odds. He never draws his gun first, he never goads. In spite of his occupation, I've never known him to be cruel. I wasn't certain the same applied to you.”

Ward nodded. “Can't say I don't deserve that. I doubt it'll make you feel any kinder toward me knowing that I was striving to protect my mother, to spare her suffering. She told me you were my father's whore. I had no reason to doubt her.” He glanced over at Toby. “Is he—”

“No, his father was someone else. Your father never saw my mother again after the war ended.”

“So afterward he was loyal to my mother.”

“That I can't say for sure, but knowing him for the short time I did, I believe he loved your mother and was faithful to her. War, I suspect, changes things for a time.” She indicated the doorway behind her. “I'd invite you in for some coffee, but I've already packed up my cups.”

He smiled, and in that smile, she saw her father. “I don't deserve your hospitality, but I hope at some point you'll make that offer again. But for now, if you'll come into town with me, I'll deed the land back over to you.”

Chance slammed his eyes closed. Ward was giving her back the land. All his hopes and dreams died with the offer. This land given to her by her father was her dream, the symbol of his love, and Chance knew he couldn't stay, no matter how much he wished he could. He was too well known here, and too many people knew of his presence. Word would spread like wildfire.

“No, thank you, Mr. Ward,” Lillian said softly. “I no longer want the property.”

Chance opened his eyes. She was watching him. “I've been offered some land west of here, and I always take the best offer.”

Chance felt his heart swell with love, and he knew he'd do all in his power to make certain she had accepted the best offer.

“At least let me pay you what the land is worth,” Ward offered.

Lillian shook her head and smiled warmly at Chance. “I don't need the money, Mr. Ward. I already have what I want most.”

Chance drew her into his arms, holding her close, knowing he'd never let her go, knowing that at long last the road ahead of him wasn't going to be lonely.