They lay together in the stifling stillness of the summer night, neither one sleeping. Allie knew Brandon was awake, though he tried to lie still, not bother her. As tired as they were, she doubted either of them would be able to sleep with the heat.
She turned, seeking a cool spot in the sheets, and Brandon gave a low sigh.
"I'm never going to get to sleep," she murmured.
Brandon moved slowly to sit up, not answering.
"Where are you going?"
"Not 'me' – 'we'. We're going swimming."
"At night?"
"Yep." He stood up and pulled on his jeans, then turned to look at her expectantly.
The moonlight filtered through the window, providing Allie enough brightness to see his grin. He put out his left hand, and she reached to take it. "I've never done this before, either," she confessed, feeling just as shy as when she'd said those words to him that first time.
He gave a short laugh. "With all these boys around, night is likely to be the only time you'll ever get to go swimming. Or, have any privacy." He reached for his boots, and Allie turned away to put on her own clothes – the skirt and blouse she'd worn into town earlier.
Brandon took her hand and led her through the front room, where some of the boys slept on the floor. They picked their way carefully across the front porch where yet more of the boys lay sleeping, spilling over onto the steps and the ground.
Once they'd cleared the front yard, they passed the low-burning campfire the drovers kept, a pot of coffee warming on a metal rack near the flames. Two of the drovers sat away from the heat at the edge of the ring of light, drinking from their enamel cups.
They both nodded in wordless acknowledgement as Brandon and Allie passed by them.
As they reached the end of the clearing and started into the woods, Brandon finally broke the silence. "Found this place earlier when I brought the boys down here to wash up the plates."
Allie suspected she knew the place he was referring to. There was a small waterfall where the creek widened out not too far from here. She hoped that was the place he had in mind, because she was not comfortable walking these woods in the pitch black of night. There was moonlight, but not enough for her liking, filtering through the thick overhead canopy of trees.
Brandon chuckled as if sensing her unease. "You can relax, Allie. You're with me. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, I promise."
She squeezed his hand. "I know. I just – I've never liked the night – the darkness."
"Why not?"
"It's…uncertain. I can't see where I'm going, or what's around me." She sounded stupid.
"You need that assurance, don't you?" The understanding way he voiced what she'd been trying to say made it seem all right. The kindness in his tone brought tears to her eyes, and she stumbled, but he turned quickly and caught her to him. He pulled her close, steadying her as she leaned into him. Behind where they stood, she could hear the low gurgle of the stream. "I'm 'around you,' Allison."
After a moment, she nodded against him. "Life's been uncertain ever since I lost my family. For the past fourteen years or so. I'm tired of not knowing, not being able to control how things are—" She wasn't talking about the darkness of night anymore. Somehow, Brandon always knew how to see into her soul.
"You can't control everything," he said quietly. "Some things just…happen."
"Are you talking about killing Carver and Johnson?"
He stiffened, and didn't answer. After a moment, he turned away and took her hand in his once more, leading her toward the sound of the water.
In a few seconds, they came to the edge of the trees. It was the place Allie had thought, with the small waterfall tripping over a short rock wall.
"You know this place, I'm sure," Brandon murmured.
"Yes. I love it here. It's peaceful."
Brandon sat down and kicked off his boots. "Peaceful when it's just you and me," he said. "It was a pretty wild place earlier, with all the boys." He smiled as he spoke, and Allie couldn't help but grin, herself. He was taking to his role, enjoying the boys, just as she'd known he would.
She took off her shoes, then the skirt and blouse, leaving on her chemise. When she glanced back at Brandon, he stood naked in the dim light. A light breeze ruffled the long strands of his dark hair, the dappled light playing over his sculpted body.
Allie's breath left her in a rush. She turned to face him completely, and he closed the space between them, but didn't touch her.
"Take that off, Allie."
"But, I—"
"No. I want you naked with me in the water. Nothing between us. No secrets, no uncertainty – and no clothes."
She reached to pull the cotton chemise over her head, setting her breasts free. The air skimmed over her body, somewhat cooler than it seemed to have been before.
His dark eyes burned with desire as his gaze moved over her, touching every inch of her flesh, marking it as his. He put his hand out and she took it. He walked to the creek, slowly wading in, and she did the same. They stood unmoving for a moment, and Allie savored the cool rush of water around her ankles, across her feet and toes. She sighed in contentment.
Brandon grinned at her. "C'mon."
The water deepened gradually as they neared the waterfall, forming a pool that came over Allie's head. She let go of Brandon's hand, floating in the blessed cool depths, her eyes closing for a moment.
"This is heaven," she murmured, letting the heat, the ache, and the worry release as she floated, her face turned up to the moonlight.
Brandon's lips grazed hers gently, his arm coming under the back of her head in support "No," he whispered, his teeth closing gently over her bottom lip. "This is heaven."
He pulled her to him, leaning back against the rock wall, and slipped into her as she came down on the burgeoning length of him.
His eyes closed as she positioned herself, and began to move up and down slowly. He moistened his lips, pushing upward into her. "Allie," he whispered on a ragged sigh.
Allie moaned softly as he filled her once again. She leaned forward, forcing him even deeper, his fingers tightening against her back.
He said her name again as her mouth closed over his, his tongue stroking hers as it slid against it. Her heart was not her own any longer. She had given part of it to him long ago, only thinking he had it all. But with that look in his eyes just before she kissed him, and her name on his lips, she realized the very last piece of her heart was his, now. He was her breath, her life, her love.
She wanted him to know it. Lifting her mouth from his, she started to speak, but how could she ever put a feeling, a realization that wondrous, into mere human words? It couldn't be done. In the end, she said simply, "I love you." So inadequate. So paltry.
But he cupped her cheek in a gentle, rough hand, his tone the reflection of his touch. "I know."
And there could be no understanding any deeper.
* * * * *
Later, they lay close together on a long flat rock, still carrying the heat of the summer day in full sunlight. Brandon relaxed, letting it seep into his skin. Something was on Allie's mind, though she'd tried to force herself to relax, too, as she lay beside him, their legs tangled with one another.
"What is it?" he asked, finally, when it became apparent she couldn't find the words she needed.
"Earlier, you said there was no controlling everything. That some things just happen."
He sighed. Carver and Johnson, Arnie Smith, the whole damned town of Spring Branch had no place here – not tonight. This was a time for Allie and him – no one else. But he knew this all had to be sorted out. A lot had happened in a short space of time, and while he was able to deal with it all, now, he sensed that Allie wasn't totally at peace with it.
"You know I did what I had to do."
Allie came up on her elbow, looking down at him. "Bran, we don't ever have to talk about Tom Carver or Abe Johnson again. Ever. It's done, unless – you have anything more to say
about it."
"I don't." He sighed. "Allie, I'm gonna have a lot to answer for someday."
"Keeping us safe?" She reached to cup his cheek. "Protecting us?" She gave a low laugh. "You won't have to answer for that, darling."
When she put it that way, he had to smile.
"I…had something else I wanted to talk to you about. It's about Sam."
His smile faded. "He's a good kid. Just needs some guidance, I think." It was true, all of what he said, but there was something about the boy that troubled him, somehow. "Did he say something? Do something?" In truth, Sam's familiarity with his pepperbox .22 at such a young age didn't sit well with him. It had nagged ever since the boy had helped come up with the plan to carry it in his boot when they went to the line shack earlier.
A cold stone formed in Brandon's stomach. "Don't tell me he did something earlier to provoke Abe Johnson. Did I – come into the middle of something he started?"
"No, no," Allie said quickly. She bit her bottom lip, sitting up. "No, you saw everything, and there was nothing else. But when we were in Anderson's Mercantile, there was something he said. Zach was afraid you'd come after him. In his typical fashion, he was trying to back track, cover himself. He wanted us to tell you no hard feelings," she said in a wry tone.
Brandon gave a short laugh. "Right. Asshole. I'm glad to know there are no hard feelings." He pushed himself up, leaning against the smooth side of the rock wall behind them.
"Well, those are the very words Sam used, too."
"Good for him. It'll do Anderson good to spend a few sleepless nights wondering."
"If he'd understood what Sam said, maybe he would. But Sam spoke in Comanche."
Brandon watched her. Something else. Something she was finding it difficult to tell him. "No secrets, Allie. Let's hear it."
She looked up, meeting his eyes directly. "He told Zach you're his…brother."
Brandon sat forward slowly. His brother. Comanche. He stared into the darkness over Allie's shoulder. So that was it, this odd connection between him and this boy who'd only just entered his life. Sam was his brother. Was it true? No need to wonder. He pushed that doubt away as quickly as it formed. His stomach and chest felt empty, hollow. He knew it was true. The boy had known it early on – from the moment they'd been introduced.
He had a brother. One he'd never even known about. His father…his father – well, no matter. No telling how many half-brothers and sisters he had running around out there in the world. It was laughable, thinking of having a family he never knew about. Especially, when he remembered how, in the early hours before dawn came, he used to lie awake and wish for that very thing. A real brother, or sister. He'd never thought—
He shook his head, not in denial, but in amazement. "Do you believe him?"
She didn't answer right away, and he realized belatedly that she was being cautious because she didn't know how he felt about it. "Yes," she answered finally. "I do."
Brandon shrugged, considering all the possibilities. He had to be certain it was viable. "Could just be he admires the way I handle a gun. Maybe he needs the special attention—"
"I think Sam is bursting with it, Bran. Wanting to tell someone – wanting to tell…you." Allie was quiet a moment, then went on softly. "He's not sure how you'll react. He…reminds me a lot of you. Even before I knew, I thought so. And…I think you've felt some connection to him too, haven't you?"
Yes. No doubt. But at first, he'd thought it was because Sam was at a crossroads in his young life that he himself had stood at long ago. He understood. It had been so much more, he realized now – the blood they shared – their father's blood.
"Yeah." Brandon relaxed, looking down. "I guess I did, Allie. Just didn't realize—" He sighed. This changed his world yet again. Coming to Spring Branch to take the job of ridding the town of the Claytons had set his whole life spinning in a different direction. The changes had been good – but fast. Adapting to what life threw at him was something he was used to – but he felt like he was still catching his breath over everything else.
The one thing that still tormented him from his past was his lack of a father. He'd pushed it back, dealt with it through the years, but was wise enough to realize that it colored everything in his existence – and had, from the time he'd been born.
He'd lived between two worlds, never fully accepted in either. The Comanches had treated him with as much disdain for his white blood as the Anglos had for his Indian half. His grandmother had shown him small crumbs of kindness, when he was small, but even she had told him it would be best to go to the nearest town of any size, Kellyville, to live on the streets – she could not take care of him.
She'd left him at the edge of town early one morning, sorrow in her aged face.
"Where is my father?" he'd asked. The despair he'd felt lay in his memory like a weight.
"Dead," she'd answered, with no hesitation. "Dead, like your mother."
But he'd never believed her. Now, there was living, breathing proof. His father had not been dead at all – at least, not at that point. He'd been with another Comanche woman, bringing another unwanted son into the world. For all Brandon knew, his father might still be alive. Maybe Sam knew where he was. In the instant he thought it, he mocked his own hopefulness. Meeting the man who had fathered him and his new-found brother was likely to be a huge disappointment.
The uncertainty was better than the knowledge, in this instance. But it chafed his soul.
Allie reached to take his hand in hers, and somehow, everything seemed right once more. "Talk to him after breakfast, Bran. Get it all said between you. Sam needs you."
Brandon's lips curved sardonically. "Seems everyone needs me, suddenly."
Allie moved to kneel between his outstretched legs, leaning forward to kiss him. "But no one needs you as much as I do, Bran."
"Prove it," he murmured.
She lay back on the rock, gently pulling him toward her until he covered her body, and he took her once more in the shadows of the night.
Chapter 27
Allie awoke sometime before daylight in her own bed. She lay in the darkness, between sleep and wakefulness, and for a moment, she was unable to remember where she was. The waterfall had disappeared, and the surface she lay on was soft – not the sun-warmed rock they'd made love on. A smile of satisfaction curved her lips, and Brandon turned, laying his rough palm against the satin of her thigh.
That brought her to full awareness, and she shifted, rubbing her eyes as she stretched. Breakfast. Boys. Men. She moved her head to look under Bran's arm, through the window. No doubt, by the look of the night sky, it was time for her to get up and start the day.
As she moved to sit up, Brandon opened his eyes. "What's wrong?"
His tousled hair fell across his forehead, his wariness obvious. She smiled at him, a shot of desire running through her. "Nothing," she answered in a less-than-steady voice. "I just need to get up. Get breakfast started."
Outside, the low voices of the drovers floated on the soft breeze as they began to stir, and Brandon gave her a look of resignation. "Morning always comes."
She stood up and stretched in the darkness. "Good thing."
He gave a short laugh, reaching to land a playful swat on her bare backside. She turned to retaliate, but he rolled away, quickly coming to his feet on the other side of the bed out of her reach. She settled for throwing a pillow at him instead, which he deflected easily.
"So predictable," he teased.
"Am I?"
He reached for his jeans. "Anything but. You know that, don't you? I've never been able to predict you."
"I wouldn't think it would have been all that hard." She pulled her clean undergarments on, not facing him.
He stopped buttoning his shirt. "I never expected to see you back down the whole town with that rifle, Allie. Never expected to see you – of all people – come around that corner."
"What else?"
He was silent a moment. She stood w
ith her back to him. "I never expected you to run out across the courtyard that day and try to save me from Tolliver's whip."
Allie smiled at the lingering disbelief in his tone, after all these years. "How that must have rankled!" She finally faced him in the semi-darkness. "You, a man of fifteen – Bran, I can't say I'm sorry for that. It was impulsive. I could think of nothing but protecting you."
He laughed outright. "Don't apologize, Allie." Seriousness came into his eyes, spreading over his face. "It was – the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for me. I cherish that memory. And the one of you with the rifle in your hands. Twice, you've come to my rescue now," he teased. "It's my turn."
"You've already done that."
He came around the bed, closing the space between them, pulling her close in the fleeting darkness. He held her face between his hands, studying her in the dim light. "Unpredictable, Allie. But that's one of the things I love most about you. One of the things I'm happiest about."
His admission brought a sudden tightness to her throat. She looked up into his eyes, just as the veil came over the vulnerable look that she swore she'd seen. She swallowed hard. Her unpredictability had never seemed to be any kind of asset – until now. "I make you happy, huh?" She kissed his chin, lifting her face to his, her arms going around his neck.
"Uh-huh." He started to drop a light kiss on her lips. She clung, held his mouth with hers, and moved fully over his, the heat of it scorching to her core.
"How? Tell me how." Her tongue flicked across his lips, and he groaned softly.
"So many ways," he muttered. "You asked me to marry you, didn't you?"
"Umm…" Her lips curved up against his in a teasing smile. "And you agreed."
"Unpredictable." He put his tongue into her mouth, teasing, tasting, tempting. She crushed close against the warmth of his bare skin at the top of his partially-buttoned shirt
"Not really," she managed to whisper.
* * * * *
Later that morning after breakfast, the drovers prepared to head out, back south to Texas. Fred Barnes walked over to where Brandon stood talking with some of the boys.
Gabriel's Law Page 23
