by Regina Scott
He rubbed a hand down his face as if he could wipe away his emotions. “Now we know. Then, all I saw was a gun pointing at a good man. I couldn’t let him be shot, especially not when it was my fault McKay and the sheriff were there to begin with.”
She struggled to see a killer sitting across from her, but all she saw was a penitent, someone trying desperately to make amends, to atone.
Nancy gasped, and his head snapped up.
“That’s why you’re working so hard to find his accomplice,” she accused him. “You’re trying to make up for the fact that you shot Lucas.”
He winced as if he didn’t like anyone else saying the truth aloud. “I can never make up for taking a man’s life. I’m just trying to do right by all those affected.”
All those affected—CJ, Edmund, the Carsons. Her.
Her breath hurt in her lungs. “So, you married me to atone? You don’t care anything about me or baby Ben.”
He stiffened. “That’s not true. I married you because I care about you and the baby.”
At the moment, she didn’t know what to think.
“Next stop, Temple,” the conductor called, moving through the car. “Connection to the Waco and Northwestern Railway, transfer for Houston, Galveston and points east.”
Nancy struggled to her feet. Hank reached out a hand to help her, and she shook it off. “I need some air.”
He did not move to stop her as she turned and hurried down the car.
The other passengers must have assumed she intended to get off at Temple, for only a few looked at her askance as she passed. Many were preparing to disembark themselves. As the train slowed, clanked to a halt, let off a blast of steam, she followed them out onto the platform. The air felt cold on her cheeks, and she reached up a hand to find that tears were tracking down her face.
I’ve cried enough for Lucas, Father. Now am I crying for Hank?
People jostled her as they passed, murmuring apologies. Wives were waiting for husbands who had traveled to points west. Children greeted mothers who had returned. She felt as if there was a bubble insulating her from them and them from her.
She was alone.
Hank had killed Lucas.
Father, I don’t understand. Is he not the man I thought him? Have I been blind again?
Memories drifted into her mind, each a clear picture from the last few weeks. Hank riding down the longhorn to keep it safe in the herd. Mr. Upkins deferring to his judgment above anyone else’s. Billy gazing up at him, trusting him to guide. CJ and Edmund standing in conversation with him, listening to his advice. The smile of pride on Hank’s face when he’d offered her as someone who could help Betsy McKay.
This man she’d married was no murderer.
“All aboard!” the conductor called. “All aboard for Waco!”
She glanced back. Hank was gazing out the window at her, face haunted. He wasn’t sure of her, doubted he’d done the right thing in telling her. He could have kept the matter to himself, rationalized that he was protecting her. She would never have known the truth.
Now the truth was looking her in the eye. Hank had ever put her needs before his own. He had walked each step beside her. He was a man she could trust, a man she could believe in.
She was sure of that even if she was sure of nothing else at the moment.
“Ma’am?” the conductor asked, stopping beside her with a frown. “Your ticket said Waco. Are you stopping at Temple instead?”
Nancy shook her head. “No, thank you. Forgive me for keeping you waiting.” She hurried to board the train.
Hank watched her come up the aisle and take her seat across from him.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” he said.
“I wasn’t sure either,” she told him. “But I needed to come back. And you needed me to come back.”
He blew out a breath. “That’s true enough. Nancy, tell me what to do. I don’t know how to make this right.”
And that was so very important to him. She could not deny him.
“That day, you were faced with an impossible choice,” she murmured, fingers tightening in the soft blue fabric of her skirts as the train started out of the station. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in your place. Probably stood and stared in disbelief.”
“I just drew and fired.” He squeezed shut his eyes a moment as if to block out the memory. “I’ve lived through the moment over and over. What if I’d aimed lower? Higher? What if I’d let Sheriff Fuller talk to him, calm him down? Would he be alive today? I don’t know, Nancy. I don’t know.”
In that one act, she’d lost a husband and little Ben had lost a father. She ought to be angry with Hank for keeping the truth from her, denounce him for a killer. But she didn’t feel angry, and her confusion, for the first time in months, was fading in the face of certainty.
Because in that moment, she realized, Hank had lost something almost as precious to him—his sense of honor.
She reached out and took his hand, feeling his fingers cold against hers, as if all the blood had drained from him along with his hope.
“Lucas made his choices,” she said. “He decided to steal from people who had only ever shown him kindness and friendship. He risked the ranch he’d worked so hard to build, the future of his wife and child. He threatened the lives of those who came seeking the truth.”
Hank’s gaze was on her fingers entwined with his. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead, and I killed him.”
She edged out on the seat, putting herself closer to him, wanting to feel his heart beating, willing the warmth back into him.
“After doing so much damage, to himself and those who cared for him,” she said, “what do you think he would have done if you hadn’t stopped him?”
“I wonder,” he murmured.
She knew. “He would have shot. Edmund or Sheriff Fuller or you could be dead. Their families would be grieving now. Lula May could still be a widow, with no hope of marrying the man she was coming to love. Stella Fuller would be struggling to raise her little brother alone.”
“It might have been better if he shot me,” Hank said. “You’d still have a husband.”
“I have a husband,” Nancy told him. “And I couldn’t ask for a better one.”
His head jerked up, and he searched her face as if afraid of what he might see there.
“Lucas made his choices,” she repeated, holding that brilliant blue gaze as she held his hand. “You chose to stop him. I choose to live for the future.”
He cocked his head, dark hair spilling over his brow. “You still willing to live that future with me, after what I told you?”
Never had she felt so sure of herself. Nancy reached up and brushed back the silky locks. “You are the future, Hank. Thank you for telling me the truth. It proves to me that this time I married the right man.”
He pulled her the rest of the way onto his seat, held her close, murmured her name like a prayer. And she knew from that moment that things would be different.
She murmured a prayer of her own that this time, things would be better.
* * *
He finally appreciated what her father had said about trains and flying. He felt as if he’d been lifted right up through the roof of the train car and into the sky. The world looked brighter, smelled cleaner. This was grace—forgiveness where none was warranted.
“I’ll never let you down,” he promised. “Every day I’ll work to be the best for you.” He pulled back to look into her dear face. Those peaches he loved had returned to her cheeks. Those hazel eyes held his gaze with a tenderness that rocked him harder than the train.
She shook her head. “Please don’t say such things. You told me how you felt when you were bound by your father’s expectations. I don’t want yo
u to feel that way about me.”
“This is different,” he started, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
“Perhaps. But it seems Lucas had a similar problem. His father sent him West to mature, and he convinced his father he was his own man so thoroughly his father insisted he stay where he’d grown. That’s not what he wanted. That’s why he started gambling.”
Another reason Hank would never understand his former boss. Lucas had seen the Windy Diamond as a prison rather than an opportunity to blaze his own path.
Hank pulled back from Nancy’s touch. “I don’t know why his father’s orders made Lucas decide to throw away everything he should have protected. Maybe he never lived up to his own expectations. Maybe he woke up one morning and didn’t like the feller he saw in the mirror.”
He took both her hands, held them in his. “All I know is, ever since I started working with you on the Windy Diamond, I like the feller looking back at me from my mirror. The only shadow on the image has been the secret of how Lucas died.”
Her smile was soft, as welcome as a breeze on a hot day. “Just don’t keep things from me again, Hank. I can’t bear secrets and lies. They tear at your heart, your beliefs.” She dropped her gaze. “They make you start to question yourself.”
And she’d done that, he realized. Discovering her husband’s hidden life had made her question everything she knew. He was only glad she had decided to trust him.
He drew in a breath. “Never again. I promise.” He managed a chuckle. “Until recently, my life wasn’t nearly exciting enough to have something worth keeping secret.”
He could see her smile deepening. “Mine either.”
He touched her cheek, savoring the warmth, the softness. She raised her gaze to his, eyes wide.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he murmured. “But I cannot thank you enough for offering it. You’ve given me back my life.”
She dropped her gaze again, gave his hands a little swing. “We both have an opportunity for a new life. You and me and Ben.”
He pulled her close again, rested his chin against the satin of her hair. Like his tangled fears, the land outside straightened out, the plains flat in all directions. The sky above seemed to go on forever. So did his hopes. Even the rocking ride of the train seemed gentler, smoother.
“How much farther to Waco?” she murmured against his chest.
He chuckled again. “You suddenly in a hurry to get there? I thought you liked trains.”
She started to yawn, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “I do like trains. But I’m ready for us to climb the next mountain.”
She sure was brave. Most people would think twice before going up against Henry Snowden senior. Yet he knew how she felt. He wanted to ride across those plains, dive into a creek, build a barn, knowing he was finally free.
“Put your head on my shoulder,” he said, “and rest awhile. I’ll wake you when we get closer.”
With a grateful smile, she leaned against him.
All he could do was gaze down at her. With her nestled against him, he could see only the shine of her brown hair, the freckles that had made her so aghast. He felt her sigh as she drifted off.
A wave of tenderness rolled over him.
You’ve given me a chance, Lord. I won’t let You or her down.
He waited for the familiar feeling of frustration for a burden he was afraid he couldn’t carry. It didn’t come. He’d worked his whole life to fend off expectations that choked and bound. He’d told her this time was different, and he knew why. He had tried to meet his father’s expectations out of duty. He would meet Nancy’s out of love.
Love. He wanted to gather her even closer, protect her from all harm, help her reach her dream of running a successful ranch. He hadn’t asked for love, hadn’t thought it possible, yet now he felt it growing inside him, binding her to his heart.
Maybe it was their shared work. Maybe he just felt so good that nothing lay between them anymore with the confession about Lucas’s death. But he felt as if hope was pushing the train across the ground for Waco. He could only pray it would follow them out to the family ranch and through the next few days.
* * *
They reached Waco an hour later. The church bells were tolling noon as Hank escorted Nancy off the train onto the packed dirt that surrounded the station. She gazed about, neck craning to look up at the tower that was the center of the Waco train station. What would she do when she saw the multistoried buildings in town? The famous Waco Suspension Bridge the townsfolk had built to span the Brazos River?
He’d planned to hire a wagon at the livery stable and drive out to the ranch, but they had barely collected their bags and turned from the train before a big man in a Stetson pushed his way forward through the crowd.
“Well, I’ll be. Hank Snowden.” He seized Hank’s hand and pumped it up and down. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
Hank stared at him. Matching him in height, the burly man had russet hair peeking out from under that dun-colored hat and an impressive mustache a shade darker than his hair. But it was those green eyes, always twinkling, as if he knew something the rest of the world had missed, that Hank remembered most. “Red?”
“Sure enough,” he said, smile so wide it stretched the curl of his mustache. “I can understand why you didn’t recognize me straightaway. Your sister’s cooking has made a new man of me, or should I say two men?”
Laughing at his own joke, he released Hank’s hand and whipped the hat from his head to beam at Nancy. “And this must be Mrs. Snowden. I’m your brother-in-law, Rufus Winslow. They call me Red. Welcome to Waco.”
Nancy nodded her thanks, then cast Hank a look of pure confusion around the man. Hank knew how she felt.
“You in town for supplies?” Hank asked, taking Nancy’s arm and directing her around the building for the street that pointed toward the town square across the river.
“No, sir,” Red declared, pacing them. “I came to meet you at the train. Got a buggy waiting with room for you and your luggage.”
Hank frowned. “I don’t understand. I didn’t have time to write and tell you we were coming.”
Red grinned at him. “You didn’t have to write. We knew you’d come. One of us has been meeting the northbound train every day since your mama mailed that letter.”
Nancy’s smile popped into view as she cast Hank a glance. “See? Your family knows you care.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Red assured her. “Besides, few folks ever say no to a Snowden. Henry and his wife are famous in these parts. But Hank probably told you all about that.”
Nancy raised her brows at Hank. He’d told her a little about his family, and he’d hoped to go into more detail on the ride out to the ranch. As usual, his family had had other plans, and it was up to him to make sure Nancy wasn’t hurt by them.
Chapter Sixteen
Nancy stayed close to Hank as Red led them to a waiting buggy. The open carriage had two sets of seats and a black leather top, and it was painted a jaunty green. A young man with hair the color of Red’s sat behind the reins, dividing his attention between the fretting team and the ladies who were passing. When he looked toward the station, he immediately straightened.
“Scoot over, Tom,” Red ordered. “And say hello to your aunt and uncle.”
Hank grinned up at the lad. “You’re probably tired of hearing this, but you sure have grown.”
“I’m as tall as Pa now,” Tom bragged, sliding over on the seat to make room for his father.
“But not nearly as wide,” Red joked. “Sometimes I think that boy has a hollow leg. All the food he eats has to be going somewhere.” He held out his hand to Nancy. “I’ll take your bag, ma’am.”
Nancy smiled her thanks as she offered him her carpet bag. He went to stow it and H
ank’s bag at the rear of the buggy.
Hank took her elbow and helped her up onto the back seat, then went around to jump up beside her.
Tom twisted to look at them, hands gripping the padded leather of the seat back. “I’m sure glad you’re here, Uncle Hank. I’ve been wanting to talk to you on account of you being famous.”
Nancy eyed Hank, and he grinned, leaning back in the seat and crossing his hands behind his head. “Sure, I’m famous. I reckon I hold the record for the Texan cowhand who can sleep in latest most often.”
Nancy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Tom frowned. “But Grandpa says you’re a gunslinger and an outlaw. Don’t you have any notches on your belt?”
Nancy felt Hank stiffen, but he merely shook his head as he lowered his arms. “Sorry to disappoint you, Tommy, but I’m just a cowboy. Mostly, I use my six-guns to scare off rattlers.”
The boy’s face fell.
“But he’s more than a hand,” Nancy felt compelled to put in. “He runs our ranch, the Windy Diamond. We have nearly two hundred head of cattle.”
“Nancy,” Hank murmured gently, but she heard the warning in his voice.
“Must be nice having a little place like that,” Tom said wistfully. “Pa won’t even let me ride to the other side of our ranch.”
“That’s because it would put you in another county,” Red teased. He climbed up into the driver’s seat, and the whole buggy tilted with his weight. Nancy slid against Hank, who put an arm around her to steady her.
“Gee-up!” Red called to his team, and the horses obligingly headed away from the station. Hank bent closer. Over the rattle of tack, Nancy could hear his murmur.
“Cattlemen don’t talk about the size of their herd,” he said. “It’s like bragging about the amount of money you have in the bank. And, as you can probably tell, someone in my family always has more.”
