Standing tall and straight, Amelia met his frenzied gaze with disdain. He may be able to exert control over her with his physical strength, but she was stronger than him in every way that mattered. She would not lower herself to his frenetics.
The amusement slowly faded from his eyes as he regarded her, quickly replaced with resolve. Firmly gripping her upper arm, Harmon yanked her toward the house.
“Brand will be back,” she said again. Harmon laughed, pulling her up the stairs of the porch.
“I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 18
“Damn fool, dog!”
Brand laughed as Ethan struggled to maneuver his horse, Bill, around the excited dog prancing at his feet. Bill stumbled again as Ethan’s dog, Chester, stepped underfoot.
“You’re gonna have to get that mutt in hand, Ethan, if he’s gonna be any use to us,” said Brand shaking his head.
“Why is he my problem?” Ethan all but shouted in frustration.
“You brought him home, blockhead!” Brand’s grin broadened at the black look Ethan shot his way. Chester continued to nip at Bill’s hooves.
“Whoa, there, Bill.” Ethan soothed his anxious horse as the animal reared his head. Neighing nervously, Bill sidestepped to avoid the excited dog. “Blasted dog! Go home, Chester!”
Chester’s attention was momentarily arrested as he looked toward the house in anticipation of obeying Ethan’s command. Suddenly, though, the dog’s disposition changed as he raced, barking madly, toward the ranch house. Brand pulled up, immediately filled with a sense of foreboding.
“Ethan.”
“Yup,” Ethan acknowledged, uneasily. Something was amiss. Brand un-holstered the pistol at his thigh as they rode cautiously toward the yard, where Chester was alternately barking and sniffing the ground around a basket of clothes next to the clothesline, several damp items lay haphazardly in the grass. Brand took in the scene, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.
Brand dismounted, a slap to Dancy’s rump sending him to the barn with Bill right behind him. There was no way anyone within a quarter mile hadn’t heard the ruckus made by Ethan’s dumb dog. If there was someone in the house- they knew Ethan and Brand were there.
Amelia tried to calm the panic rising in her breast, the frantic barking outside signaling Brand’s return. Again, she struggled against the rope binding her hands behind her back. With a cry of frustration, Amelia strained against her bonds, but Harmon had tied the knot securely. Tears ran down her cheeks as she admitted defeat, her hands slack against the ropes.
Amelia could not contain the scream that rent from deep in her throat as fear for her husband threatened to choke her, when Harmon pulled his six-shooter from its place tucked in the back of his denims
“Brand!”
With an angry growl, Harmon turned on her, the back of his hand stinging her cheek. “Quiet!” his command was a rough whisper. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
Evening was settling, the orange of afternoon giving way to the deep amethyst of dusk. Undeterred by the falling darkness, Harmon sidled to the window. Taking reckless aim, he shot into the yard. His hasty gaze searching the shadows for signs of his prey.
“Harmon, please,” Amelia beseeched. “Let’s just leave here, you and me.” The words stuck in her throat. Leaving Brand now would ruin her forever, but if she couldn’t get Harmon to abandon this plan- she might lose him anyway. Quiet tears turned to fractured sobs as Amelia wept for her husband. Where was he? Had Harmon’s bullet found it’s mark? Her worry for Brand and for Ethan escalated as Harmon once again turned to the open window, another careless shot rending the air.
“He will never give you up- not Brand Callahan.” Harmon turned on her so fast she didn’t have time to fear his fury. This time it was the butt of his revolver striking her cheek that sent her senses reeling. Madness shone in his eyes, unequal to any she had witnessed before, striking fear in her heart anew. “We will take care of Callahan before we go anywhere.”
Brand stood in the shadows, his lanky frame relaxed, while his nerves stretched taut. His lovely wife sat tied to a chair not ten feet away, the last light of the day glinting against her silken hair- the color of moonlight. Brand was once again amazed at the love burgeoning within him for this woman.
Standing over his sister, Harmon looked gaunt, his days in hiding had not served him well. His eyes flitted to and fro as he searched the yard for signs of Brand. Any second, Ethan would give the signal and Brand would confront Harmon once more. While he was loath to kill his wife’s brother and would try to avoid doing so, whatever it took- this would be the last time Harmon ever hurt Amelia.
Brand un-holstered his six- shooter, his fingers caressing the familiar engraved filigree as he waited in the dark shadows of the quiet house, listening to the sound of Amelia’s quiet whimpers.
Harmon began a restless pacing, incoherent mumblings tumbled from his lips in a confusing refrain, his words joined with Amelia’s quiet pleas to create a whispered clamor.
Where was Ethan? The thought crossed Brand’s mind for the seeming hundredth time as he waited for the signal from his brother that would draw Harmon to the open window, hopefully providing both men a means of stopping Amelia’s brother, each from their opposing vantage points.
Brand started, the blast from Ethan’s pistol shattering the glass in one of the upstairs windows surprising him, even though he was expecting it. Brand watched as Harmon ran to the window, too intent on his prey to think to preserve his own position or safety. Ethan shot again, this time the bullet flew directly over Harmon’s head, hitting the ceiling on the other side of the room. Brand offered a silent prayer of gratitude for their father, who believed every man should be able to defend his family with a gun- and well.
Harmon stood at the window, leaning out, brandishing his own revolver from side to side, heedlessly expiring his remaining shots in every direction. Brand prayed again, this time that his brother was safely under cover. He stepped from the shadows into the dimly lit kitchen.
“It’s done, Harm.” Brand continued across the plank floor from the parlor into the kitchen, his pistol aimed at his brother-in-law, steps cautious as he fought the urge to look at Amelia. Harmon’s pistol was empty, but the man still posed a danger and Brand would not allow himself to be distracted.
Harmon turned wildly, caught off-guard. He raised his pistol, pointing it at Brand’s chest.
Brand stopped his progress into the kitchen. “Whoa, there, Harm.” His tone calm, his eyes trained on Harmon. “I’m not gonna let you hurt her anymore.”
“Brand.” Amelia’s tearful plea threatened to pull Brand’s attention from the dangerous man in front of him.
“Don’t you worry, darlin’, everything’s gonna be just fine,” Brand soothed without looking in her direction. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Harmon.” Brand stood, one arm raised with his six-shooter still aimed at Harmon’s chest. “Let’s just you an’ me head on into town and have a talk with Dylan. My brother is a good man, he’ll see to it you are treated fairly.”
Harmon’s eyes darted rapidly around the room, his sense of control slipping away. Shaking his head, Harmon muttered, “No, no, no.”
Brand watched as Harmon’s eyes suddenly cleared. Brand felt a thrill of apprehension a split-second before the last bullet from Harmon’s gun ripped into the thick muscles of his shoulder. Brand had mis-counted.
Amid Amelia’s screams, the impact from Harmon’s bullet knocked him off his feet. Brand fired anyway.
“Brand!” Ethan burst through the door, eyes wild with fear.
“Make sure he’s down.” Brand struggled to his feet, his left arm hanging limp at his side.
Ethan knelt next to the fallen Harmon McAlister, his eyes meeting Brand’s as he shook his head. Brand sighed and made his way to his wife. Amelia sobbed quietly, her whole body, trembling. He ran the fingers of his right hand over her tear-streaked cheeks and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
&n
bsp; “Let’s get you out of this chair, darlin’.” Brand knelt behind her and pulled a knife from his boot making fast work of the ropes that bound her.
“You’re hurt,” she cried, immediately falling to her knees beside him. Brand pulled her against him.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over, pressing his lips to her cheeks, her eyes and finally, her lips.
Chapter 19
Amelia clung to him, careful of his injury. She knew he was hurting and needed tending, but they needed the comfort the other provided. It was over. She had seen Ethan’s silent communication to her husband. Harmon was dead. The relief she felt almost overwhelmed her- as did her guilt. The last of her family was gone from her now and the pain of it pierced her heart. But Harmon would have never left her alone, he would have been a specter of gloom for the rest of their lives, a constant threat. And since she and Brand had become close, Amelia had feared any children she bore would be a target for her brother’s hatred. Fear struck her heart as she looked to Brand’s shoulder. The fabric of his shirt was soaked in blood.
“We’ve got to get you to Doc Childers’.” She quickly got to her feet, but right away knelt again as Brand swayed, struggling to remain conscious. “Ethan!” she cried, wrapping her arms around her husband.
Ethan ran out the door to get the wagon ready to take Brand into town. Unable to keep his large torso upright, she gently helped Brand lay on the floor. He grasped her hand when she started to rise again.
“Amelia, I’m sorry.” His eyes flickered toward Harmon where he lay silent and still. Amelia’s heart filled with love and gratitude for the man before her. He had saved her life and he was apologizing to her for what he had to do.
“Oh, Brand, I love you.” She leaned over him to see in his eyes, her tears falling to his chest. “It’s alright. Everything is fine now. Harmon-” Amelia choked on a sob, then quickly composed herself. “Harmon deserved what happened here tonight. And I am thankful, Brand, so very thankful.” Amelia brushed her lips against his as his eyes fluttered closed, his face peaceful after her reassurances.
“I’ve got the wagon ready. Let’s load him up,” Ethan said from the doorway.
Amelia nodded and rose to her feet. Ethan moved to lift Brand under his arms while Amelia grasped his legs. Working together, they carried him to the wagon and laid him in the bed. Amelia climbed in next to him as Ethan hopped over the seat. She had barely cleared the back end before the team set out at a run with Ethan’s firm yell. On the frantic drive into town, Amelia tore fabric from her petticoat and pressed it to Brand’s shoulder to staunch the flow of blood. There had been no exit wound on his back and Amelia was worried the bullet had hit bone.
The ride to Doc Childers’ was the longest of her life. Brand remained unconscious and she was glad as the rapid pace of the team made the journey rough. Amelia winced each time Brand’s body was jostled and jolted. Finally, the team rolled to a stop in front of the little white house where the only doctor in town lived with his wife.
Ethan was out of the seat before the dust settled, yelling for the doc as his feet hit the ground. By the time, Doc Childers opened the door, a napkin tucked in his collar from a late dinner, Ethan had already slid Brand halfway out of the wagon.
“Ethan! What’s happened?” The doctor rushed down the stairs as quickly as his aging body would allow and assisted in carrying Brand up the porch steps, Amelia following anxiously behind.
“He’s been shot. Bullet’s still in there, Doc,” Ethan grunted under the weight of his older brother. Instead of leading them into the room where both Amelia and Amy had rested, Doc Childers motioned with his head to another room with a tall, long table resting in the middle. Doc Childers bellowed down the hall for his wife, Emma.
“Nice and easy, now, Ethan,” Doc directed. The two men gently laid Brand on the operating table. The doctor wasted no time as he rushed to a basin in the room and began soaping up his hands.
“Merciful heavens!” Emma Childers, the doctor’s plump wife, exclaimed with a look of horror on her rosy face. Her eyes darted first to Ethan and then to Amelia, who stood next to Brand, his hand clutched tightly within her own. In an instant, she transformed into the capable nurse she was and began issuing orders as she bustled about lighting a lamp hanging above the table and two more on either side.
“Ethan, I want you to take Amelia out into the kitchen. You two get some water boiling in that big pot next to the cook stove.” Emma’s words fired quickly from her mouth, assured that her instructions would be followed to the letter. “Next, I want you to brew up a nice pot of coffee.”
“No, I-,” Amelia protested when Ethan began to herd her toward the door.
“Come on, honey. Let the doctor do what needs doin’. You won’t be any help right now, upset as you are.” Ethan continued to guide her toward the door. “We’ll get our nerves settled for a minute so you can come back in once the doc’s got Brand all patched up. Then, I’ll head over to see Dylan, so he can get things taken care of back at the ranch.”
Amelia looked up into the concerned eyes of her brother-in-law. The reminder of her brother lying dead in the kitchen back home bringing fresh tears to her eyes. She allowed him to propel her down the hall to the kitchen where he gently pushed her into a chair. Without a word, Ethan set about getting water from the pump and filling the large pot sitting just where Emma had said it would be. Once the water was heating, Ethan filled a tea kettle with water and set it next to the large pot. He retrieved a dainty teacup from a shelf over the wash basin and a coffee mug for himself. Before long the kettle whistled shrilly, and Ethan poured some into her teacup, adding a small bag of tea leaves. Amelia thanked him with her eyes as he set it before her on the well-worn table in the Childers’ kitchen.
A few moments later, Ethan sat across from her, his face tense as he took a sip of the coffee he had brewed. He hadn’t said a word, and Amelia was grateful for his silence. She didn’t think she was quite up to talking about the events of that night, nor of Brand and his injury. It was a balm to her soul to sip her tea in the comforting presence of her steady brother-in-law.
It wasn’t long however, before Ethan rose, collecting their now empty cups. He checked the water heating in the large pot and turned to walk down the hall toward the operating room. Amelia waited, her heart pounding nervously, for Ethan’s return, hoping for news. Long minutes later, his heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden floor.
“Doc says it’s goin’ just fine,” Ethan reassured, kneeling beside her chair. Amelia slumped in relief. “The bullet’s out. He’s just making sure it is all cleaned up.” Ethan’s gaze was tender and he softly gathered her hands into his callused ones. “Honey, I need to go tell Dylan what’s goin’ on. And someone needs to go let Beau and Amy know as well. I won’t go out to Beau’s, but I think I ought to go with Dylan out to the house.” He paused, seeming to struggle within himself. “Are you gonna be alright here?”
Amelia took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes, Ethan, I’ll be fine. You go. Dylan and Amy will never forgive us if we don’t let them know what’s happened.”
Ethan nodded, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He still looked worried, though, as he studied her before rising to his feet. “I’m gonna haul this water into the doc, then I’ll head over to see Dylan. You sit tight in here, darlin’. Don’t go wanderin’ in there ‘til the doc calls for you.” Ethan walked to the pot and hefted it into his powerful arms. His long stride quickly carried him down the hall despite the weight of the water. Amelia heard muffled voices and then Ethan’s heavy steps leading out the door and into the evening.
Amelia sat, tears streaming down her face without moving. She felt stunned. Her brother was dead and her husband lay in the next room fighting for his life. She felt sure Brand would recover, but the strain was pressing on her heart and mind something awful. After a time, Amelia heard a wagon pulling up in front of the doctor’s house. Rising to her feet, she rushed to the door, hopin
g it was nothing serious. The doc had his hands full as it was. Amelia opened the door before anyone could knock and immediately fell into the arms of Miss Ellie.
“There, there, sweet girl,” the older woman soothed, her grandmother’s arms offering love and comfort.
“Oh, Miss Ellie, it was just so awful,” Amelia sobbed into her friend’s shoulder, grateful beyond measure for her presence and Ethan’s thoughtfulness in bringing the older woman to keep her company.
“Now, you listen here.” Amelia looked up at Elvira Mason’s sympathetic, yet stern command. “I know Harmon was your brother, but you would never have been free of fearin’ him. Your husband took care of you just as he should.” Miss Ellie’s own eyes were red-rimmed and damp as she gazed lovingly at her young friend. “And your young man in there- and he is your young man by now I’ll just bet,” Miss Ellie teased with a twinkle in her eye. “Yup, he’ll be just fine, you wait and see. For now, let’s set us another kettle of tea to brewing.” Miss Ellie patted Amelia’s shoulder as she stepped into the Childers’ home, mumbling about rummaging through Emma’s kitchen.
Before long Emma’s kitchen was filled to the brim with concerned family and friends. Around the table, sat Beau and a very pregnant Amy. Alan had seen Ethan bolting to the Sheriff’s office and couldn’t stand to not know how his apprentice was fairing. Miss Ellie sat next to Sawyer Hughes, who hadn’t said much, but the deep furrows in his brow were enough indication of the worry he felt over Brand’s condition. Amelia stood at the window, her hands worrying the edge of one of Emma’s apron’s she had donned. It couldn’t have been much more than an hour since they had arrived at the doctor’s house, but it seemed an eternity to Amelia.
Beau had poked his head in the room where the doctor was tending to Brand. It wouldn't be much longer now and she would be able to go and see her husband. But for right now, she was glad for the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts and process the events of that evening. Although she could hardly comprehend what had happened, she did feel better prepared to face her husband without falling apart. She knew Brand would be suffering from crippling guilt. It was not a small thing to take the life of another, especially when that life belong to your wife’s brother.
Loved from Afar Page 10
