“Hurry!” pleaded Daniel.
Banner found her bag immediately, filled it with supplies plundered from Adam’s cabinet, and raced outside again. On the wall outside the surgery door was a large slateboard and chalk that Adam used to advise callers of his whereabouts.
Under his almost illegible scribble, she wrote one word: mountain.
The old man who worked in the stables saddled the two horses Banner demanded without question, though his eyes were full of suspicion. No doubt, he would recount this episode to Adam the moment he saw him, but that didn’t matter.
* * *
Sean grinned, glad that he had resisted the urge to follow Banner when she left in such a hurry. She’d taken two horses instead of one. Did she have a lover hidden away somewhere?
No matter; Sean couldn’t think about that now. The fancy doctor was whirling away from the slateboard fixed to an outside wall of the house, running toward the stables at a speed Sean wouldn’t have thought possible, considering the working over he’d taken.
Sean forced himself to wait until Corbin had come out of the stables again, mounted on a dancing black stallion. If he followed too quickly, or too closely, he would be seen, and he was damned if he wanted to deal with Adam Corbin now, without the element of surprise in his favor.
Once a few minutes had passed, Sean lumbered into the saddle of a horse he’d borrowed from Royce.
Royce. He smiled again as he prodded the animal into a leisurely trot. He’d wanted to be in on this, Temple had.
And to hell with him. This was Sean’s battle, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else have a piece of it.
* * *
Banner stumbled out of the cabin, her bag forgotten. “Daniel,” she said to the man who waited with slumped shoulders beside a tree. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
There was no sound from Daniel, no outward indication of his grief.
“Adam will be here soon,” Banner whispered, feeling a need to comfort this man who had already suffered so much loss and pain. “I left word for him and I know he’ll come.”
Though Daniel did not turn to face her, he spoke at last. “Lulani won’t hurt any more.”
“No. She’s resting now.”
“I loved her.”
“I know, Daniel. I know.”
He rounded on her, his deformed face bright with tears. “I loved my Katie, too, but I couldn’t live with her—I had to leave.”
Banner nodded, her throat tight. “You needn’t explain to me, Daniel.”
“I don’t want you to think that Adam will be like me—that he’ll betray you the way I did his mother. He’s strong and he’s good, my son.”
“Yes,” said Banner. “But so are you, Daniel, or you couldn’t have made the sacrifices you have.”
Somewhere in the trees, a bird sang a lonely song. “Go back, Banner,” Daniel said. “Go home now. My son will be furious if he finds you here.”
Banner thrust out her chin. “I’m going nowhere, Daniel. Adam will be angry, but he’ll need me and I intend to stay.”
Daniel looked back at the cabin where Lulani was, still now. At peace. “Adam is a good husband? He doesn’t beat you?”
Banner swallowed. “No, he doesn’t beat me.”
“Well, he might, if you’re still here when he comes. You’ve taken a foolish chance, Banner—I should never have come near you, brought you here—”
“I know that. You came to the house for Adam, not me. How long did you stand out there in the woods, Daniel, waiting for him?”
The big man shrugged. “An hour—I don’t know. I was about to walk up and knock on the door when you saw me and came out. I’m grateful to you for your help, Banner.”
Her eyes fell to the loamy, spring-warmed earth. “I wasn’t much help, I’m afraid. Lulani was gone when I reached her.”
Daniel nodded, and there was a vacant ache in his blue eyes. “I’ll sit with her,” he decided aloud, and then he was stumbling away, leaving Banner alone with a thousand thoughts and feelings.
Driven by these, she went to the edge of a nearby cliff, where a sturdy, gnarled old tree leaned out into open space, like a circus performer defying gravity. A sob rose from the core of her spirit as she considered Lulani’s passing and the terrible void it would leave in Daniel’s world.
Suddenly, her elbow was caught in a wrenching grasp and Banner found herself being spun around. Adam’s face was terrible to behold.
“What the hell are you doing up here, O’Brien?”
Tears burned in Banner’s eyes, blurring her vision. “It’s Lulani,” she broke in, almost choked by her despair. “Adam, L-Lulani’s dead!”
Adam closed his eyes, swayed a little. “When?” he asked, after a long interval.
“I don’t know exactly. She was gone when Daniel and I got here.”
“Papa—how is he?”
Banner wiped away her tears with the back of one hand. “He’s shattered, Adam.”
Adam lowered his head, nodded. “He’ll die without her, Banner.”
Banner wrapped her arms around her husband, held him. But her words of comfort were stopped in her throat when she looked past his shoulder and saw Sean striding toward them, a rifle in one hand.
At his wife’s gasp, Adam turned, but it was too late. The butt of Sean’s rifle landed in the middle of his face with a dull thud. He folded to the ground.
Scream after scream rattled through Banner, but she couldn’t utter a sound. She fell to her knees and reached for Adam, but Sean twisted his hand in her hair and wrenched her cruelly back to her feet.
“What good is he to you now, Banner?” he hissed. “Can he part your thighs now? Can he make you beg for his—”
“Stop,” pleaded Banner, closing her eyes.
Sean flung her away so that she sprawled on the ground. With one massive, meaty hand, he hauled a half-conscious Adam to his feet.
Banner watched in mute horror as her husband came out of his daze and braced himself to do battle with a man who had every intention of killing him. Sheer hatred sustained Adam, visible in every line of his body.
Blood streamed from a cut over his eyes, but he seemed oblivious to it, to Banner, to everything but the smirking giant he faced. “Put down the rifle, big man,” Adam breathed, holding out both hands, beckoning. “Let’s see how well you can do in the daylight, one to one.”
Sean swung the rifle around, pressed its cold barrel hard into Banner’s right temple. “Don’t come any closer,” he said.
Adam froze. His gaze sliced, murderous, to Banner, who still sat on the ground, and then back to Sean. “If you hurt her,” he said evenly, “I’ll pull your spinal cord out and wrap it around your neck.”
Sean paled, but the rifle was firmly in place, and his free hand was working at the top button of his trousers. “She was never that good when I had her,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve taught her, Corbin.”
Banner shrieked, suddenly vocal in her terror and her revulsion, and a hideous, answering cry came from the direction of the cabin.
Three people turned to stare as Daniel came raging toward them, bellowing like a madman, waving his crippled arms in the air.
He must have looked like a monster to Sean, a fugitive from some drunken nightmare. Banner watched as the color drained from Sean’s broad face, as he dropped the rifle and stumbled backward in blind fear, his mouth and throat working.
Daniel reached him and flung himself upon him before anyone else could move. Sean screamed as both men tumbled over the cliff.
The world seemed to shift and shimmer around Banner in the following moments, like a heat mirage. She was aware that Adam raced to the edge of the cliff, looked over, grasped the gnarled tree to keep from falling.
At the same moment, Jeff arrived, his horse lathered and panting. He dismounted, stumbled over to Banner, hauled her to her feet with his good hand. And all the while his eyes were on Adam, who still clung to the tree at the brim of the cliff. “What happene
d here?”
Before Banner could even summon the breath to answer, Adam threw back his head and roared, “Nooooooo!”
Jeff strode to his brother’s side, drew him away from his perilous position by the cliff. “Adam! Adam, for God’s sake—”
Banner held her breath as Adam flailed free of Jeff’s grasp and shouted, “Look for yourself, damn you! Look for yourself!”
Pale, Jeff looked over the cliff’s edge, swayed. Had Adam not grabbed his arm and flung him away again, he would certainly have fallen.
He jerked free of his older brother, staggering, searching the cliff for a way down over it. “No,” Jeff sobbed, as he found what he sought and made his way down a steep natural path, pebbles sliding beneath his boots.
Banner went to the tree as Adam stumbled after his brother. Below, Sean and Daniel lay far apart on the lethal rocks, both of them still.
Banner turned her head and fought down the bile that rose in her throat. They were dead, both of them.
When she dared to look down again, Jeff was kneeling beside his father, reaching for him.
Adam caught Jeff at the shoulders, pulled him back. His words rose to Banner on the warm spring wind. “Don’t, Jeff. Don’t touch him.”
Something primitive moved through Jeff’s formidable frame, lifting him back to his feet, giving him the power to turn on Adam in his fury. “You knew!” he bellowed, thrusting his good hand into his brother’s shoulder. “God damn you, you bastard, you knew!”
“Jeff—”
Jeff seemed almost maniacal in his anger and his pain. He shoved Adam again and Adam stumbled backward, not raising a hand to defend himself.
“I’ll kill you!” Jeff wept, bitterly, brokenly. “I’ll kill you, Adam—”
Banner took her brother-in-law at his word and scrambled for the rifle Sean had dropped. In another moment, she was grappling down the same steep path Adam and Jeff had taken. Sharp rocks scraped open her knees, her elbows, the side of her face. Still, she kept going, clutching the rifle in one numb hand.
When Banner reached the bottom, Jeff was still trying to prod his brother into a fight. But this was no good-natured brawl in the front yard, no game.
“Hit me, goddamn you!” the younger brother roared.
Adam did not lift his hands. The wound in his head was seeping blood, and his face was crimson with the stuff, but he seemed unaware of that, unaware of everything but Jeff’s pain.
“I’m sorry, Jeff.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?! My God, Papa was alive all this time and you knew it and you stand there and tell me you’re sorry?”
Adam wiped some of the blood from his face with the cuff of one shirtsleeve. “Yes, I’m sorry.”
There was a spasm of fury in Jeff’s face. He muttered a vicious word and lunged at his brother, closing his unhampered hand around Adam’s throat. “You lied—all these years—”
Adam displaced his brother’s hand easily. “I had to lie, Jeff. Papa wanted that, and he had good reason to.”
“No!”
At this point, Banner cocked the rifle, as Adam had taught her to do one day when he was still recovering from his last confrontation with Sean, and pointed it squarely at Jeff’s head.
“Touch my husband again,” she said quietly, “and I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Jeff did not even seem to see Banner, but he was deflated all the same. He sank fluidly to his knees, his hand over his face, his weeping a sound that she would never forget. She lowered the rifle as Adam crouched before his broken brother and drew him into an embrace.
They had to talk now, and weep together; Banner left them to that, laying down the rifle and making her way back up the cliff path alone.
After a very long time, Adam and Jeff came up, too. Their faces were cold and closed, and neither of them seemed to know that Banner was there at all.
Working together, in strained silence, they managed to bring the two bodies up from the base of the cliff. After that, they buried Daniel and Lulani beside each other and then dug another grave for Sean.
By the time this gruesome business had been completed, it was well past sunset.
For the first time, in Banner’s hearing, Jeff spoke to his brother. “The cabin?”
“It has to be burned,” replied Adam. “I’ll do it.”
Jeff shrugged, his face expressionless, and turned to stagger toward his horse, which had been grazing nearby. After risking one look at Adam, who nodded, Banner followed her brother-in-law.
“Jeff, wait,” she pleaded softly.
He stiffened beside his horse, the reins in his hand, but he did not turn around or speak.
“Adam did what he had to do,” she told him, her words soft, but firm, too.
“Yes. He stole five years that I could have shared with my father.”
Banner closed her eyes. “Your father had leprosy.”
“He was still my father,” Jeff retorted, and then he swung onto the horse’s back, and the flames from the rapidly ignited cabin glowed on his face like the light of hell.
Quickly, she caught hold of the horse’s bridle, desperate to stall Jeff somehow, to keep him from riding away from his brother now. “H-How did you happen to come here when you did, Jeff?”
“I saw Malloy follow Adam away from the house,” he answered, his eyes fixed on some unseeable distance. “Goodbye, Banner.”
Defeated, Banner let go of the bridle. “Goodbye,” she said.
Banner went back to Adam slowly, trying to deal with her own feelings so that she could then help with his. She thought of Sean—she had not loved him, but she had not wished him dead, either. She hoped that he would find peace now.
Adam’s gaze was fixed on his rapidly disappearing brother, and the light of the blazing cabin flickered on his face and the broad, blood-smudged expanse of his chest.
Banner found water and a cloth and began to wash her husband’s face. “Did you explain?”
“I tried,” he said with a ragged sigh, submitting to the washing with uncharacteristic patience. “He won’t tell anyone—that’s the important thing.”
“Maybe you should have told him sooner, Adam,” Banner ventured, laying aside the wet cloth.
But Adam shook his head. “The risk of infection was too great. Besides, Jeff isn’t the sort to keep a secret—the concept of deception is beyond him.”
After that, there seemed nothing more to say. They waited until the cabin had consumed itself and then mounted their own horses to go back down the mountain. The mounts Sean and Daniel had ridden trotted obediently along behind.
* * *
Banner sighed. Saints in heaven but it was hot, even in Katherine’s shaded garden. And she was so big.
A tear slid down Banner’s face and shimmered like a diamond on the marble bench she sat upon. Within her enormous belly, the baby moved like a small, furious gladiator.
It was late August, and Adam had not lain with her since June. Was he really content with the limited pleasures they could offer each other now, or was he making pilgrimages to the Silver Shadow as well as rounds?
“O’Brien?” Adam’s hands came to her shoulders, gently kneading. “What are you thinking?”
“That I am an elephant,” she sniffled, “not a wife.”
Adam sat down beside her on the bench and traced the length of her neck with a tender finger. His blue eyes fell fondly, possessively, to her stomach. “You are beautiful, Shamrock,” he said.
Banner sighed and wiped her face. “I wish the baby would come,” she muttered. “I want to be able to sleep on my stomach again.”
Adam chuckled. “I’d like to be able to sleep on your stomach again, too.”
Suddenly, Banner sat bolt upright; dampness was spreading around her, soaking her skirts. “My waters!” she gasped. “Adam, my waters—”
Instantly, he was on his feet, sweeping her up into his arms, striding into the house.
* * *
All sorts of strange emotions
rushed into Adam’s throat from some fount in his heart as he looked down at the furious, redheaded infant boy squirming in his hands. Tiny arms and legs flailed, and a strong little back arched.
“Adam?” whispered the mother of this bristling wonder. “Adam—the baby?”
“The baby is fine,” he said, surrendering the child to Maggie so that he could tie and sever the birth cord. “A boy with red hair like yours.”
Banner should have been resting, but suddenly she was writhing and tossing her head from side to side. “Adam—there’s another! Saints in heaven—there’s another!”
Adam felt her stomach with both hands, muttered in amazement. Sure enough, a second baby was on its way.
Even in her labor, Banner was beautiful. “I love you, Adam,” she said, over and over again. “I love you.”
Finally, after much ado, a girl child made a glorious, outraged entrance, wriggling in her father’s hands just as her brother had, squalling when her bottom was slapped and her mouth was cleared.
“We have a daughter,” Adam marveled hoarsely.
“We,” smiled his weary wife, relaxing at last. “I did all the work, Adam Corbin!”
“Twins!” The word bubbled up out of Adam, like a cry of joy, as he went to the other side of the bed to wash his hands. “Twins.”
For all her exhaustion and her residual pain, Banner laughed. “Look at him, Maggie! He’s swaggering like a rooster!”
“He has the right to be proud,” said Maggie in a quavering voice, as she washed and wrapped the two infuriated infants. “And so do you.”
Adam dried his hands and bent to kiss his wife’s damp brow. “I love you, O’Brien,” he said, feeling no shame for the tears in his eyes.
Maggie wrested him aside to place one baby in Banner’s arms, and then another. Then she left, and the Corbins set about naming their children.
The boy, it had been long decided, would be called Daniel Jeffrey, but the girl, having come as a complete surprise, posed a problem.
“What was your mother’s name, O’Brien?” Adam asked, frowning at the small delight that was his daughter.
“Bridget.”
“That’s it, then. Bridget.”
As if glad to have a name, Bridget Corbin made a cooing sound and settled against her mother’s breast to sleep.
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