Twice a Texas Bride (24 page)

Standing protectively above Rand, Callie steadied the Colt and stiffened her spine, ignoring the bunched nerves that screamed for her to hide. But she'd never been a coward—it wasn't her way.

The white horse came into view first, and the person sitting astride the animal was nothing but a dark figure. She knew how to shoot, and she'd make sure to aim for the heart.

As the rider drew closer, she recognized the stranger whom Rand called Tom Mason. Though Rand said he was an ex-detective, she didn't lower her guard. Too often people claimed to be something they weren't.

Mason halted and leaned forward in the saddle. The scar on his cheek was white against his skin, which said it'd been there a while. “Reckon you can use my help, Mrs. Sinclair. Mind if I fix your wagon before you shoot me?”

When she hesitated, Rand attempted to get to his feet, only to fall back, murmuring, “Let my family be.”

“Don't believe you're in any position to bargain, ma'am. Your man's hurt, and I'm sure your children are close by.” Mason's kind gray eyes flicked to the tilting wagon. He appeared harmless enough, but was he? “It'll be dark soon. You've gotta trust someone.”

Yes, but who? Danger seemed to lurk around every corner.

Finally, Callie lowered the weapon. “A woman can't be too careful. I'd be obliged if you help with the wheel, then be on your way.”

“I truly mean you no harm, Mrs. Sinclair,” Mason said with a smile.

Callie saw the sincerity in his eyes and suddenly found herself liking the strength of his jaw. It was possible she'd been wrong about him. “Maybe not us, but we have a bone to pick with anyone who seeks to do Brett Liberty wrong. We'll put a shield around him that you'll never penetrate. Just so you know.”

“I don't suppose you want to tell me where he lives.”

“I'd sooner shake hands with the devil.”

“Ma'am, he's in no danger from me.”

“Then why are you hell-bent on finding him?”

“Afraid I can't say. That's between Mr. Liberty and me.”

Toby flew down from the wagon and began flailing Tom Mason with his little fists. “Leave Uncle Brett alone.”

To Mason's credit, he simply stood there silently, taking the blows.

Though Callie wanted to land a few well-placed hits herself for good measure, she pulled Toby off. “Stop it, sweet boy. Let him help us fix the wagon so we can get home and tend to your papa.”

“Oh, all right,” Toby grumbled, giving Mason the evil eye. “But I ain't gonna like it.”

Mason smiled. “Fine son you got. Quite a fighter.”

Callie swung to Mason. “I apologize. As you see, we're very defensive of Brett.”

Rand pulled himself to a sitting position and Callie handed him the Colt. “Mason, you ever harm him, I'll hunt you down.”

“Don't worry, Sinclair, I know better than to take on this bunch. Can't help wondering though…why did the boy call Liberty uncle? By my records, the man has no kin.”

“You figure it out,” Rand answered shortly.

“All righty.” Mason grinned. “Reckon I'd best get this wheel back on before one of you kill the Samaritan.”

With everything already in place, it didn't take Mason—with Callie's small assistance—very long at all. The ex-Pinkerton dusted off his hands and helped Rand into the back along with Toby. Callie wrapped them both in the warm quilts, then, at the baby's soft cry, moved to change her daughter's diaper.

“Can you handle the team, ma'am?” Mason asked. “I can—”

“I'll manage from here just fine,” Callie said, cutting him off. She finished tending to Wren and got the baby situated on the seat beside her for the remainder of the trip. “Thank you, Mr. Mason. I'm very grateful you stopped.”

“No ill will?” The scarred man mounted his white gelding.

“Just saying I appreciated the helping hand, no more.”

“You're a tough woman, ma'am. I'd hate to be on your bad side.”

“You already are, Mr. Mason.” She said it pleasantly enough, but the way Mason jerked his head up told her he'd gotten her message. “You have a restful evening now…wherever that might be.”

Thank goodness the Last Hope wasn't far. Callie flicked the reins and got the horses moving without looking back at Tom Mason. The long shadows darkening the road made her nervous. Anyone could hide in them and she wouldn't see the danger until it was too late.

Though the horses plodded slowly toward the ranch, she gave thanks for making each bend in the road safely. By the time the house came into view, it was pitch dark, and tension knotted Callie's shoulders. Biscuit came to meet them, barking and wagging her tail near off. Toby leaned over the side of the wagon, calling to his faithful companion and telling the dog about all the sights in town, especially the juggler.

“You should'a seen that man throwing those plates in the air an' catchin' 'em.” Biscuit gave a sharp bark back.

Callie parked by the kitchen door and set the brake. Wren was fast asleep. After telling Rand she'd be right back, she carried the baby into the house and lit the lamps. Toby and his dog were right behind her. With the children safely inside, she went back out and climbed into the wagon bed.

She touched his face lightly, willing his eyes to open. “Rand, we're home. Do you think you can stand?”

“I can walk.” He sat up and groaned. “Have a god-awful headache, though.”

“Let's get you inside.” She helped him from the wagon and up the three steps into the kitchen. He collapsed into a chair at the table, where he sat breathing hard. The short walk had taxed his strength. She didn't know if she could get him upstairs to his bed or not. It might be best to spread some quilts on the floor in front of the fireplace.

While he rested, Callie and Toby went out to unload their purchases. She filled the youngster's arms and gathered the remainder. Then, while he watched over Rand and Wren, she drove the wagon to the barn and unhitched the team. Though the cold night air promised a hard freeze, sweat covered her by the time she finished feeding and bedding down the horses.

The stressful day was about over. Before she went into the house to fix a bite to eat, she took a moment to roll her shoulders in an effort to relieve the tense muscles. A million stars dotted the black canvas overhead.

She remembered her vow that morning to tell Rand about her past and tear down the wall between them. Now it seemed unlikely that she could tonight with Rand injured.

Soon, though.

A
person
with
a
head
injury
requires
constant
monitoring
, she could have sworn she heard her mother say as clearly as though Nora Quinn Powers stood there.
Don't let him go to sleep or he might not ever wake up.

The admonition gave her chills. Callie had forgotten about the danger. She looked up at the sky. “Thank you, Mama.”

Hurrying inside, she found Rand slumped over with his head on the table—asleep. “Rand, wake up. You have to wake up.” She shook him until he roused.

“Sleepy,” he murmured, trying to push her away.

“I know, but you can't. You have to stay awake until the danger has passed. Would you like something to eat? I'll bet you're hungry.”

At his nod, she scrambled some eggs and sliced fresh bread from the loaf she'd made yesterday, all while keeping an eye on him. She didn't even have to call Toby to the table. The hungry boy came running and plopped down in his chair.

Ten minutes later, Rand had eaten almost all of it before pushing his plate away. He seemed more alert than she'd seen him since the accident.

After Toby finished and wiped his mouth, Callie asked him to help her get Rand up to bed. Though her husband, stubborn man that he was, leaned heavily on her, it turned out that Rand pretty much climbed the stairs under his own steam. A heavy weight lifted from her chest.

Stripping off his boots, holster, and clothes down to his long johns, she got him into bed and turned to Toby, who stood behind her. “I need you to sit here next to Papa and keep him awake while I clean up the kitchen. Do you think you can do that?”

The boy nodded, then asked, “But how?”

“Talk to him. Talk about anything and everything. If he starts to close his eyes, shake him real good.”

“Okay.”

She stood outside the door for a minute as Toby launched into a recap of their day in town. “I loved the people that played the music. When I get big, I'm gonna play a fiddle an' throw plates in the air an' catch 'em at the same time. But my favorite thing was dancin'. When I grow up, I'm gonna dance like you an' Mama did an' make her smile. She was so happy.”

Callie smothered a sob. He'd just called her Mama. The child was still putting order in his life the only way he knew. It deeply touched her, as did the fact that he wanted her to be happy. They had to make his dream, and theirs, a reality. Somehow, someway.

“Yes, son,” she heard Rand say. “She was happy.”

Leaving Rand in excellent hands, she turned her attention to Wren, who was awake and looking around. When she saw Callie, the sweet baby smiled big, showing her toothless gums, and excitedly kicked her little legs. Callie picked her up and nuzzled her chubby cheek. Her heart burst with love for the child. She'd never felt as needed as she was in that moment.

She just prayed Rand got better so they could talk. It had taken her so long to make up her mind to clear the air, and now that she'd come to the decision, she couldn't. Every second dragged.

“Please, darling husband, you have to get better,” she whispered.

* * *

Later, while she sat beside Rand holding his hand, the quiet of the house settled over Callie. The children were fast asleep, the doors bolted, and she was with the man she loved.

He gave her a sinful grin. “If you insist on keeping me from getting a wink of sleep, crawl into this bed beside me.” His eyes darkened, daring her. “I don't bite, you know. And nothing would fix me up like feeling your soft curves pressing against me.”

“Rand, you're talking out of your head, dear. Do you have a fever?” She leaned in and laid one hand on his forehead.

“Darlin', you have no idea.”

“Are you sure you're not milking this injury a tad?” When she took his hand again, his fingers curled inside hers.

“I'll never tell.” His tired grin made her heart leap. “But would you please rid me of this damn headache as long as I'm only pretending? You put your cool hand on my head again, and I know it'll go away. Now, I think we were discussing you stretching out beside me.”

Lie
in
bed
with
Rand?

The daring thought sent quivers of excitement running through Callie like leaves on a tree in a summer breeze.

Dear God, how she yearned to curl up next to him, fit the curves of her body to his.

What would it hurt? She'd be fully clothed.

Before she could stop herself, she rose. When he moved over to make room, she lay down beside him.

The scent of the wild Texas land enveloped her. Rand was everything she'd ever wanted, ever hoped for, ever dreamed of. She snuggled against him as his arm came around her.

“Thank you, Callie. Now, you're home.” He kissed her hair.

She lightly dragged her fingertips across the side of his face. “I don't deserve you, Rand. You're good and kind and decent.”

“I hear a
but
in there someplace,” he said, frowning. “I know you have feelings for me. No one kisses the way you do without a fire blazing inside. Something is stopping you from going further. Darlin', don't you want us to have more, have a real marriage?”

“Yes.” Her quiet admission seemed to open the padlock around her heart. It was time.

“Tell me what you're holding back. Trust me with your secret. I simply want to understand, nothing more.”

With his arm anchoring her, she took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all pour out. She told him about her mistake with Richard Farrington that night so long ago and the resulting pregnancy at eighteen.

When she got to the hardest part of her secret—where her stepfather ordered his son to steal the baby from her—she broke down in sobs.

“I only held my angel girl for a few minutes, and then David, my stepbrother, was pulling her from my arms. I held on as tight as I could, but I lost consciousness. When I came to, Claire had a black eye and deep bruises. Claire had fought them both with everything she had, but it was no use. She stumbled downstairs, but they'd vanished into the blackness. Gone just like that. My sister said Edmund swore that night that if we tried to find the baby, he'd kill her.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks and Rand tenderly wiped them away, murmuring, “It's all right, darlin'. Let it all out.”

“My heart shattered in a million pieces. I don't know what they did with her, and it has tormented me every second of every day. I should've tried harder to find her. I shouldn't have given up.”

“You had no choice. Don't you see? You protected your baby. You could do little else.”

“For weeks I thought about killing my stepfather, but then I wanted to kill myself more.”

“Why did your stepfather hate you and your sister so much?”

“He didn't at first. But when he married socialite Liza Masterson, it all changed. With her nonstop lies and hate, she turned Edmund Powers against us. She said we were evil, would never be worth anything, and he believed her. Then later, we challenged his authority at every turn. Claire married Nate to show Edmund she could. When I became pregnant, Edmund believed I'd done so to spite and embarrass him like Claire had.”