Once A Gunslinger

by Diana Bold

  He cleared his throat. Billy shuddered and hunched in on himself, letting the rock in his hand fall to the ground. But he made no move to turn around. Tristan realized fatherhood was not going to be easy.

  Then again, nothing worth having ever was.

  Sighing, Tristan sat down on the end of Billy’s log so only a few feet separated them. For a long, long time he said nothing. He just sat there, staring at his son’s beautiful, beloved profile, wishing with all his heart that he could take the boy in his arms. He wanted to hold him so tightly it would make up for all the emptiness his absence had caused them both.

  Billy began to squirm under his intense regard and at last met Tristan’s gaze. “I don’t know why you said those things to Uncle Joel. It isn’t true. None of it is true.”

  He took a deep breath and steeled himself against the boy’s rejection. “I know this is hard for you to hear, Billy. I know you don’t like me, and you’re used to the idea of my brother, Michael, being your father. But I wasn’t lying. You are my son.”

  Billy shook his head, his blue eyes wide with hurt. “Why didn’t my mother tell me that if it’s true? Where is she, anyway? What have you done with her?”

  “I haven’t done anything to her.” He tried to keep his fury with Savannah from his voice. No matter how angry he was with her, he knew she’d been a good mother. He didn’t want to jeopardize the boy’s feelings for her. “I’ll take you to her now if you’d like, and we can discuss all of this with her.”

  Billy looked at him suspiciously. “You really didn’t know about me?”

  He shook his head, regretting all the time that had already been lost. “I didn’t know. I swear to God I would have been here for you all along if I had.”

  Billy was silent for a moment. “Do you have any other sons?”

  “No,” he whispered, loneliness pressing in on him. “I don’t have any other children. In fact, you’re my only family.”

  “Really?” Billy seemed surprised at that. Tristan was suddenly thankful for the McKenzies, who had ensured his son could not imagine life without a family.

  He nodded, his heart in his throat.

  “Before, when you were talking to Uncle Joel, you were so angry. You didn’t sound like you were happy about finding out I belonged to you.” Billy’s tone was belligerent, but tears sparkled in his long lashes.

  Tristan suddenly realized he wasn’t the only one afraid of rejection. “Oh, Billy,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Finding out about you has made this the best day of my entire life. I know I sounded angry, but I wasn’t angry because your mother told me you were my son, I was angry because she didn’t tell me sooner.”

  Billy’s tears spilled over. “Really, sir? You really want me to be your son?”

  He nodded, afraid he was going to start crying himself. “More than anything in the world.”

  Impulsively, Tristan held out his arms. To his immense relief, Billy launched himself into them, nearly knocking Tristan off the log. The boy hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe, and he returned the hug wholeheartedly.

  “I’m glad you’re my father,” Billy whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  His arms tightened convulsively at the boy’s words. “I’m glad I’m here, too. And I’ll never go away again. I promise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Savannah took up a lonely vigil on the front porch, waiting for Tristan and Billy to return. It was after dark before she finally saw Tristan striding toward the house, carrying their sleeping child in his strong arms.

  Relief overwhelmed her.

  She was so glad to see them she forgot her anger over Tristan’s careless way of letting Billy find out the truth. All that mattered was that they were home.

  Tristan’s gaze locked with hers as he strode up the porch stairs. Billy was cuddled to his chest with a gentleness that made Savannah ache with thoughts of what might have been. How she wished Tristan had been able to hold Billy when he was a baby.

  “Shall I take him up to bed?” His deep voice cut into her thoughts and made her jump in surprise. For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her. She’d assumed he’d give her the silent treatment until the end of time. He’d always been so good at ignoring people he didn’t like.

  “Yes, please.” She despised the tremor in her voice, but was helpless to stop it. She was desperate to say and do all the right things from this moment on, since she’d failed so miserably up until now.

  He nodded toward the screen door. She hurried to open it, and then followed him up the stairs and down the hall to Billy’s room. She pulled down the covers, and he carefully lowered his precious burden to the mattress. He brushed a strand of hair from Billy’s eyes, and then took off the boy’s shoes.

  She watched him, her hand pressed to her mouth as Tristan tucked his son into bed for the very first time. Billy stirred a bit under his tender ministrations, but didn’t wake up, and at last Tristan gestured for her to follow him from the room.

  Once in the hallway, he hesitated a moment, then headed to the bedroom he’d occupied before he’d moved down to the cabin. She trailed behind him, her heart thundering in her chest. Utter dread coursed through her blood at the thought of what he was about to say.

  He waited just inside the moonlit room, shutting the door behind her after she entered. She turned to face him and was stunned to see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

  “Oh, Tristan,” she whispered, devastated by the thought of what she’d done to the two people she loved most in the world. “I’m so sorry.” The words sounded pathetically inadequate. There was nothing she could say to make things right.

  He leaned against the door, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, struggling to maintain a tenuous control. She thought she’d shatter into a million pieces at the sight of him. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him through this emotional storm, but she was terrified of being rejected.

  “I will never forgive you for this,” he said at last, his voice low and lost. “You stole so many years from me, and there’s nothing I can do to get that time back. I wasn’t there when he took his first step or said his first word. I wasn’t there to teach him how to ride a horse or hold him when he cried.”

  She just stood there, taking his words as her due. A chill took hold in the very marrow of her bones, and she knew only Tristan’s warmth could thaw it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t even attempt to wipe them away.

  “I know you hate me,” she whispered. “I deserve it.”

  He didn’t offer a denial. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about you. You’re still Billy’s mother. Somehow we have to get past all of the hurt and anger and decide what’s best for our son.”

  Blinded by her tears, she nodded. “That’s what I want, too. Oh, Tristan, just tell me what I can do to make this easier for you. There must be something. Something I can do, or something I can say...”

  Pushing off of the door, he walked toward her, his green eyes glittering in the moonlight. Instinctively, she backed away until she was trapped between his big, hard body and the wall behind her. He placed his hands on either side of her head, leaning into her, and she was stunned to see that there was still something of desire in his hot, angry gaze.

  “Can you turn back the clock? Can you go back in time and love me more than you loved your reputation?” He shook his head, disgust and despair in his eyes. “No, you can’t. Like I told you before, once something is broken, it can’t ever be fixed.”

  She didn’t want to believe that, refused to believe it. And she knew with sudden certainty that she couldn’t afford to continue to grovel and beg for forgiveness. Yes, she had made mistakes. But she had paid for them, too. She’d lived without the man she loved for the past ten years, and she wasn’t going to let him get away from her again. Somehow, she had to earn back his love and respect.

  Reaching out, she touched his beard‐stubbled cheek, ignoring the way he flinched a
way from her touch. “I was young and foolish. But I truly thought I was doing the right thing. I sacrificed my own happiness and dreams of a future with you so that our son wouldn’t be born a bastard. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  He shuddered. Then he covered her hand with his own, pressing his face more fully into her palm. “Christ,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  She didn’t think, she just stepped away from the wall and into his embrace. He crushed her so tightly against him she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t complain. All that mattered was that he was holding her instead of walking away.

  “We can fix it,” she whispered against the rough silk of his hair. “We’ll find a way. I swear we will.”

  For a long time they stood together, and she took comfort in his heat and strength. She hadn’t been wrong about him. The war had caused him to make some wrong turns but, at the core where it mattered, he was still the same man she’d fallen in love with.

  She ran one hand down his back, trying to soothe the demons that raged inside him. “You’ve had one shock after another today. Perhaps you just need some time to think it all through.”

  He lifted his head and gave her a weary glance. Then he released her and stepped away. He had the same look in his eyes he’d had the night of the storm. Lost, furious, and so very, very alone.

  “You’re right. I do need some time.” He ran a trembling hand through his mussed golden hair. “We’ll talk some more tomorrow, all right?”

  She nodded, her heart in her throat. Part of her wanted to pull him down to the bed, kiss him, and make love until it was impossible for him to deny they were meant to be together. But another part understood she needed to give him some space.

  When he returned to her bed, she wanted it to be because he loved her. Not because he was hurting and angry and wanted to lose himself for a few brief hours.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered.

  “Goodnight,” he replied, then turned and slipped from the room.

  When he was gone, she sank to the bed and let her tears fall unchecked. The whole thing had gone better than she had any right to imagine, but his reaction had still fallen far short of what she’d hoped.

  Tristan might not hate her, but would he ever truly love her again?

  She knew him so well, knew his sense of honor and how difficult it had always been for him to see both sides of a situation.

  He would stay in Colorado and do his best to be a good father to Billy. She would see him every day, and he’d be excruciatingly polite, at least until Billy was grown. But she’d betrayed his love, betrayed his friendship.

  She was afraid he’d never, ever forget or forgive.

  In a way she almost wished he wouldn’t stay, because it was going to be absolute torture to have him so close, yet know he was a million miles away.

  * * * * *

  Tristan sat in a comfortable cane rocker, staring moodily into the flickering flames of the fire he’d built to ward off the evening chill. He’d left Savannah hours ago, but the events of the day kept replaying in his mind, refusing to allow him any peace.

  The kitten on his lap purred, the low hum loud in the absolute silence of the night. Tristan stroked the animal’s soft fur distractedly, wondering how on earth he was ever going to come to terms with all the new developments in his life.

  I have a son.

  He still couldn’t believe it. That beautiful child couldn’t possibly belong to him. He was afraid he was dreaming and that soon he’d wake up in some seedy hotel room, lonelier than ever.

  But here he sat in this snug, homey cabin, with flowers on the table and a kitten in his lap. It was so easy to pretend the last ten years had never happened. The McKenzies were making it so easy to put the past behind him and start over again. Their trust scared the hell out of him.

  Didn’t they know he wasn’t worthy of their friendship? What had Savannah been thinking, to tell him about his son now when he feared he’d already gone too far down the path of self‐destruction to ever turn back?

  Perhaps that was truly the root of his anger. Yes, he wished he’d been able to share Billy’s life since the day he was born, and he was furious with Savannah for hiding the truth from him for so long. But deep down, he was afraid she’d been right to do so.

  He didn’t know the first damned thing about being a father. This was only his first day on the job, and he’d already bungled things nearly beyond repair. Would his continued participation in Billy’s life do more harm than good?

  He sighed and buried his face in his hands. Savannah had been right about him. He’d been running from everything for so long he wasn’t even sure if he knew how to stop.

  But he’d already promised Billy he’d stay. Hell, he wanted to stay.

  He supposed he’d just have to figure it out as he went along.

  First things first. If he was going to live here, he wanted to have Billy under his roof, not in the big house over the hill. And the only way Savannah would agree to that was if she lived here, too.

  He was going to have to ask her to marry him.

  His mind rebelled at the very idea, but other, lower parts of his anatomy rejoiced. Despite everything that happened today, he couldn’t forget how it had felt to be inside her again.

  He shifted and the kitten sank its sharp little claws into his thigh to keep from being dumped to the floor. Cursing, he shooed it off his lap.

  With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and resumed his study of the flames. Savannah was the mother of his child. If he wanted his son to have a family, he was going to have to marry her.

  Christ. If only it was that simple. How could he live with her? She’d be a constant reminder of how much he’d lost, how much her lies had taken from him.

  More importantly, how could he share a bed with her and not give in to the temptation of making love to her every night? Even this evening, when he’d been angry and hurting from wounds she’d caused, he’d wanted her. It had taken every ounce of self‐control he possessed to turn and walk away.

  How many of her sweet, sympathetic glances and gentle touches could he withstand? And if he could withstand them, was it fair to expect Billy to live in a home where his parents hated each other?

  The mad whirl of his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Did he hate Savannah?

  No. The answer was swift and sure, and it came from the very depths of his heart. He could never hate Savannah. She was part of him, part of his very soul.

  Despite everything, he wanted to marry her. For Billy’s sake, he was simply going to have to put his anger aside, or bury it as he’d buried so many other things.

  He could learn to get along with Savannah. Hell, they might even be able to salvage a halfway decent marriage out of the remnants of the friendship they’d once shared.

  He’d just have to guard his heart and never, ever, admit that he still loved her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Savannah was up and dressed before daybreak. She hurried through the silent house, determined to be by Billy’s side when he awoke. She simply couldn’t let another moment pass by without talking to her baby, touching him, and letting him know everything was going to be all right.

  Letting Tristan be the one to tell their son he was his father had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to face. She’d already played the scene out in her mind a thousand times, picking out each word with thought and precision.

  But Tristan had cut her out of the conversation, forcing her to let her imagination run wild.

  Just what, exactly, had he said to Billy? And how on earth was she to mount an adequate defense when she didn’t even know if he’d said anything she needed to defend?

  Billy’s room was still dark when she crept inside and took a seat in the chair beside his bed. Predawn silence permeated the room, making her shiver. She had to restrain the urge to wake him.

  It seemed forever before the first rays of
morning light finally touched upon Billy’s sleeping face. Savannah leaned forward, tracing the maturing bone structure of his cheeks and jaw with her gaze as she had so many times in the past.

  He looked so much like Tristan.

  His lashes were long and lush; his mouth had the same lovely bend. The resemblance had been both heaven and hell during the years she and Tristan had been apart. She’d held Billy in her arms and rocked him to sleep during a thousand sleepless nights, desperately wishing Tristan could see him just once.

  She’d gotten her wish, but nothing had turned out the way she’d planned. The three of them were together at last, but they were far from a family. She was terrified Billy would choose Tristan over the mother who’d lied to him his entire life.

  Billy stirred and a soft, sleepy sound escaped his lips. He rolled over on his back and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, disoriented, but then he caught sight of her. “Mama?” he whispered, his voice scratchy with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just watching over you, sweetheart. I wanted to be here when you woke up.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, but he flinched and pulled away.

  Her heart plummeted at the wariness in his eyes. Apparently, he was just now remembering all the ways in which his life had changed yesterday.

  Billy frowned. “I know why you’re here, but you’re too late. My father talked about it with me last night. He told me everything.”

  Savannah nodded. “I know. Tristan and I agreed that he should be the one to tell you. But I figured you probably had some questions you wanted to ask me, too.”

  Billy just stared at her, his jaw mutinously set.

  “Come on, honey. Don’t you want to know why I didn’t tell you about Tristan before? Isn’t there anything I can do to help you understand?”

  “I understand fine.” Billy scowled, slid out of bed, and took some clean clothes out of his armoire. “I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore.”