Once A Gunslinger

by Diana Bold

He never should have sullied Savannah with his bloodstained hands. He had nothing to offer her, and it was criminal to even think of dishonoring her in such a way again.

  At last, Joel finished, but he didn’t go away as Tristan had expected.

  Instead he sat in the chair next to the bed and gave Tristan a thoughtful look. “Why are you here? Why did you come looking for me after all these years?”

  Tristan leaned back against the carved oak headboard, staring at a water stain on the flowered wallpaper. “You wrote to me. You said you needed to tell me something about Michael.”

  “I wrote to you years ago.”

  “I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say then, but I’m ready now.” Tristan tried to inject a confidence into his words he was far from feeling. The mere thought of hearing about Michael’s last minutes paralyzed him with dread.

  How could he live with himself if Michael had cursed him with his dying breath? At least, up until now, there had been the possibility that Michael had forgiven him.

  Joel leaned forward, steepling his fingertips. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”

  Tristan flushed. “Hell, I don’t know. How can anybody ever be ready for something like this?”

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you right away. I just didn’t expect it to take this long.”

  “How long should it have taken?” Tristan shook his head. “Is there a schedule for guilt and grief?”

  “No, of course not.” Joel rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “You should have come to us. You weren’t alone in your sorrow. Michael was the best friend I ever had, and Savannah was his wife. Little Billy could have used another uncle in his life long before now.”

  Tristan’s breath deserted him in a rush. “Are you telling me Savannah married Michael? And who the hell is Little Billy?” Dear God. He hadn’t known. And he’d kissed her. He’d kissed Michael’s wife.

  “They had a son. Michael didn’t tell you?”

  Tristan wordlessly shook his head.

  “They married just a month or two after you left.” Joel looked away. “I’m sure Michael meant to tell you. He just never got the chance.”

  Tristan wasn’t so sure. Michael hadn’t mentioned his marriage that day at the Battle of the Wilderness. He hadn’t mentioned he had a son.

  A white‐hot surge of anger and jealousy streaked through him, blasting away his guilt. Michael had known how much he loved Savannah. Hell, when he’d told his brother he planned to ask for her hand, Michael had congratulated him and wished him well.

  Had he planned to make her his own all along? And what about Savannah? How could she have gone from him to Michael as though one twin was as good as the other?

  The two people he’d loved most in the world had betrayed him, shattering his illusions and leaving him grasping for something to hold on to.

  Joel stood and walked to the window. “I think Savannah blames you for Michael’s death. I know it’s crazy, but surely you understand how hard this is for her. When she looks at you, it’s Michael’s face she sees.”

  Tristan closed his eyes, overwhelmed with despair. Savannah’s kiss had given him a glimmer of light and hope, but Joel’s words crushed that hope completely, and now the darkness seemed unfathomable.

  Everything made perfect sense. Savannah didn’t want him. She’d just confused him with Michael.

  He couldn’t blame her. He saw Michael, too, every time he looked in a mirror.

  “I need to be alone for a while.” Tristan’s words were sharp and dismissive. He couldn’t bear Joel’s sympathy for even one more minute.

  “But I haven’t told you about Michael yet,” Joel protested.

  Tristan waved him away. “I can’t. Not right now.” He could only handle one heartbreak a day.

  Chapter Four

  Savannah resisted the seductive pull of Tristan’s presence for a full day before giving in to the need to see him again. She found it impossible to stay away when the kiss they’d shared was all she could think about.

  Joel had cautioned her about getting involved, still operating on the mistaken assumption she was somehow confusing Tristan with Michael.

  She’d wanted to scream with frustration, but instead she’d listened to his terse warnings and promised to be careful.

  Prudence had never been one of her strengths.

  If Tristan hated her, she wanted to look him in the face while he told her all the reasons why. And if he’d found it in his heart to forgive her… A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine as she knocked on his closed door. Well, if he’d forgiven her, she wanted to know that, too.

  “Come in.” He sounded tired and cranky, and she hesitated for a moment, wondering if she’d caught him at a bad time. “Come in,” he said again, louder this time. Squaring her shoulders, she slipped into his room.

  He was sitting up in bed, propped against the headboard and several pillows. His beautiful face was drawn and haggard, his lean cheeks marred by several days’ growth of beard. A patch of dark gold hair furred his bare chest, and she faltered a bit when she realized he was still naked beneath the thin white sheets.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, and in his voice she heard all the things she’d expected to hear from the beginning—anger, despair and disillusionment.

  “You didn’t?” she asked, her heart breaking. “Or were you just hoping I’d have enough pride to stay away?”

  He cleared his throat, the sound very loud in the silence that had fallen between them. “Do we have to do this? I’ve had... fond memories of you, and I’d hate for words said in anger to ruin that.”

  She blinked, determined not to give in to her threatening tears. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  “Ah, Savannah.” He closed his eyes for a moment, as though praying for strength, but when he opened them, he no longer seemed angry. “Do you remember the first time I kissed you?”

  His question startled her. She’d been prepared for anything but gentle reminiscing. “Yes,” she whispered, unable to meet the intensity of his emerald gaze. “Of course, I remember.”

  He sighed and rubbed his temple with his left hand. “You were wearing sapphire silk and your beautiful hair was piled atop your head, subdued for once in some intricate, grown‐up style.” The soft Southern cadence of his voice wrapped around her. When he motioned for her to sit next to him on the bed, she acquiesced like a sleepwalker.

  “My seventeenth birthday ball.”

  His words brought it all rushing back. She could see the laughing faces, feel the excitement in the air as the country braced for a war that hadn’t meant much to her at the time.

  She’d only had eyes for Tristan.

  “You took my breath away when I saw you descend that sweeping flight of stairs on Ian’s arm.” One corner of his mouth curved in a semblance of a smile. “Until that night, you’d been a friend, my best friend, but suddenly I realized you’d become a woman while I wasn’t looking. A beautiful, desirable woman.”

  She bit her lip, unsure where this was leading them, but wanting more than anything to stay in the safety of that fairy tale night.

  “You’d just come home from the University,” she whispered. “I missed you desperately while you were gone, and learning you’d be at my ball was the best present I could have asked for. I spent hours and hours getting ready, hoping to impress you, but then you didn’t even ask me to dance.”

  He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “You followed me out on the balcony, angry and hissing like a little cat. When I told you I was too old for you, you slapped me.”

  “You were only twenty‐one.” She covered his hand with her own, holding his warmth against her face. “It wasn’t that big a difference.”

  He smiled. “You started to cry. It shocked me because you’d always been such a tough little thing. I patted your shoulder, feeling like an ass. Then you looked up at me, those big, blue eyes filled with tears, and I
was lost.”

  He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her with exquisite tenderness, holding her as though she were far more precious than diamonds or gold. It had been the most wonderful moment of her life.

  “The next six months... God, Savannah, you know how special they were to me. You were mine, and I thought I could conquer the world. I know you don’t understand why I felt I had to fight for the Confederacy... Hell, I don’t understand it myself, now. But I always thought you’d wait for me. I was certain when I came home we’d be able to work things out.”

  His point was clear, and it broke her heart all over again to hear how much he’d trusted her. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, trying to speak over the knot in her throat.

  “Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know that sometimes the memory of your kiss was the only thing that kept me sane. I thought about you at night, when I couldn’t sleep and my men were dying all around me. I thought about you in prison, when I was sick and hurting, when the guilt of Michael’s death made me want to take my own life.” He gently extricated his hand from hers. “I’ve thought about you at least once a day ever since.”

  He still cared for her. The thought burned away all her earlier fear. “Oh, Tristan.” She wanted to launch herself into his arms and laugh in relief. “I’ve thought about you, too.”

  Frowning, he shook his head. “I’m only telling you all this because I wanted you to remember how it used to be between us. I wanted to explain what was going through my head when I kissed you yesterday.”

  “There’s nothing to explain. I wanted you to kiss me.”

  “Stop!” He held up his hand, staring at her as though she’d grown two heads. “Don’t you understand? When I saw you again, I wanted those feelings back. I wanted to pretend the war never happened. I wanted to pretend I was still the kind of man who had the right to kiss you.”

  “You do have that right.” His sudden anger confused her, and she scrambled to decipher what he was trying to tell her. “I’m giving you the right.”

  “No.” His voice dripped with disdain. “You gave that right to Michael. My own brother! And I never knew it. Not until Joel told me yesterday.”

  Everything made sense now. Dear Lord, no wonder he’d seemed pleased to see her at first. He hadn’t known how badly she’d betrayed him.

  “I thought you knew,” she whispered. “I thought Michael told you.”

  ”He didn’t tell me anything.” Tristan closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillows. “I never would have kissed you if I’d known. Despite the evidence to the contrary, I loved my brother.”

  Not only had he lost faith in her, he’d lost faith in Michael, too.

  Savannah couldn’t bear to see what her impulsive actions had cost him. Blinded by her tears, she surged to her feet, intent only on escape.

  “Savannah?” His voice stopped her before she reached the door.

  “Yes?” Her voice was hardly recognizable to her own ears, choked as it was by self‐hate and regret.

  “I don’t blame you for yesterday. I know my presence here has upset you... You probably weren’t thinking clearly.” He cleared his throat and then met her anguished gaze. “Would you introduce me to my nephew before I leave?”

  He’s not your nephew. He’s your son. She wanted to scream the words, but she couldn’t even bring herself to whisper them.

  Billy thought his father was dead. Would it do more harm than good to admit she’d lied, that his real father was a killer, a man who made his living with his guns?

  “Of course you can meet him.” The time had come to make some hard choices.

  She’d almost reached the door for a second time when he spoke again. “You know I’d give my life to bring Michael back, don’t you?”

  “I know.” She nodded through her tears. “I know you would.” Then she fled, desperate to get away from him.

  * * * * *

  “I thought I’d find you up here.”

  Savannah tensed, and then relaxed when she recognized Ian’s voice. She turned and watched as he hefted his long, lean body through the hole in the tree house floor.

  “I didn’t think anyone knew I came here.” She lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug. “It’s childish, I know. But it’s so quiet here in the leaves, and I love the view.”

  Ian smiled and scooted forward until he was sitting next to her. “I don’t think it’s childish. I come here myself sometimes.”

  She threw her brother a surprised glance. “Really?”

  He and Joel had built the tree house for Billy right after they’d moved west, but her son rarely used it anymore. Billy was growing up far too fast.

  The tree house was sturdy and plain, perched in the sheltering arms of a giant elm. From its platform, she could see the big house in the distance, and closer, at the bend in the river, the small log cabin that had been their first home in Colorado.

  “What’s troubling you, sis? I heard you pacing the floor all night, and this morning you were up and gone before dawn.”

  She reached for Ian’s hand, lacing her fingers with his strong, capable ones. His midnight blue eyes were filled with concern, and a lock of his reddish-brown hair fell over his forehead.

  “It’s Tristan,” she whispered, feeling better for admitting what was in her heart.

  “I thought it might be.” Ian smiled and squeezed her hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Ian had always been the easiest of her brothers to talk to. Joel was closer in age, but he’d always been passionate, emotional and argumentative. Ian was strong and quiet, always willing to listen to her problems.

  She took a deep breath and turned her face toward the rising sun.

  The eastern plains were frosted with golden light, but the towering mountains to the west were still hidden in shadow. It was a breathtaking sight, and she let it give her strength.

  “I’ve never stopped loving him. When I saw him again, saw how much he still cared, I allowed myself to believe he’d forgiven me. I hoped we might have a future together, despite our past.”

  Ian frowned. “I thought you loved Michael, not Tristan. Hell, Savannah, how could you agree to marry one brother when your heart already belonged to the other?”

  She deserved his censure, but it still hurt. She shook her head, wondering if she could ever make him understand. “When Tristan announced that he planned to fight for the South, I was devastated. I knew our father would never accept his choice, and neither would his own. It meant losing his inheritance and every chance we’d ever had for a secure future.”

  “So, you married Michael to get back at him?” Ian’s censure turned to disgust, and Savannah steeled herself to keep from flinching.

  “No. It wasn’t about revenge.” She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “Before Tristan left, I arranged to meet with him one last time. I seduced him, thinking that after I gave myself to him, he’d give in, marry me, and fight for the Union.”

  Ian sucked in a sharp breath. “You grew up with two brothers. How can you know so damned little about men?” He shook his head. “Of course he didn’t change his mind. He probably assumed your actions meant you’d stand by his decision, whatever it was. When he found out what you really wanted he must have been furious.”

  “You’re right,” Savannah admitted, a little surprised that her big brother had accepted the loss of her virginity so easily. “He told me he had to follow his conscience, and he hoped we could work things out when he returned. But I couldn’t wait for him that long, not after I discovered that my impulsive actions had brought about a consequence I hadn’t counted on.”

  “Oh, hell,” Ian whispered. “Billy’s isn’t Michael’s son, is he? He’s Tristan’s.”

  She nodded, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. “I didn’t know what to do when I found out I was going to have a baby. I went to Michael, hoping he could somehow get word to Tristan, but he told me it was
impossible. Tristan was so angry, so ostracized when he left, he didn’t tell anyone where he planned to go.”

  “So Michael offered to marry you himself.”

  She nodded, blinking to keep the burning tears in her eyes from falling. “Michael was so good to me. He gave Billy his name and saved my reputation. In return, I made his last few years horrible. He wanted me to be his wife in truth, but I couldn’t forget Tristan. I never even let Michael kiss me, except at the altar. I was an awful wife.”

  “I’m sure Michael understood. You did the best you could under the circumstances.” Ian put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “You made a mistake, sis, but you have to move on. You need to think about the present.”

  She let her head rest against her brother’s broad chest, grateful for his support. It meant more to her than she could say. For so long, she’d carried this guilt around inside her. Just talking about it, and finally admitting her sins, made the load seem a little easier to bear.

  “I know I can’t go back and make things right, but oh, Ian, I wish there was something I could do for Tristan now. He’s still a good man. He’s just lost faith.”

  “He’s lost a lot more than his faith.” Ian held her a little tighter. “There’s nothing you can do for him, sweetheart. In fact, it’s probably best for everybody concerned if you just let him leave as soon as he’s able.”

  “Is it better for Billy? Should I allow him to keep thinking his father is dead?” She forced herself to ask the question that had been tormenting her, even thought she was sure she knew what her brother would say. “What about Tristan? Doesn’t he deserve a chance to know his son?”

  “It will probably just hurt them both in the long run.” He sighed and shook his head. “You didn’t see Tristan in town that day, sis. He wanted Johnny to shoot him. He threw down his guns and taunted the kid until he pulled the trigger. How will Billy feel if the father he’s just coming to know is gunned down before his very eyes? How will you feel?”

  She set her jaw and pulled away. “That’s all the more reason to help him change. Tristan still loves horses. You can tell by looking at the one he rides. All he needs is a chance. If you gave him a job, he might be able to leave the killing behind and start over.”