by Jenny Lykins
Stephen, his face a sickly shade of gray, looked at the papers and turned a dull, brick red with blue, corded veins popping above his collar.
“You – ”
“Skip the name-calling, Windsor. Callen and I are married…in every way,” – he let the meaning hang in the air for a moment – “and we’ve come to get Connor, to be with his parents.”
Stephen jumped to his feet, upending his chair, knocking over his coffee cup.
“Over my dead body!”
Ty gave a quiet laugh and shook his head.
“As appealing as that image is, I prefer to let you live and face down the demons that so obviously torment you.”
Windsor’s face drained back to that sickly gray, but he narrowed his eyes in hate.
“You’ll never take the boy,” he growled. “All you see him as is the heir to Windsor.”
“Oh, right.” Ty slid the marriage papers back into his pocket, then picked up a sugar bowl with one handle broken off and toasted the faded wallpaper in the foyer. “You’ve seen through my diabolical plan to take control of a rundown plantation that can barely afford a coat of whitewash.” He set the sugar bowl down. “Or crockery.”
Stephen snarled like a rabid dog.
“Even at that, it is choice property for a carpetbagger with no breeding.”
Ty wouldn’t kill him. He would not grab the S.O.B. and slam him against the wall. Instead, he merely quirked a brow and let his gaze wander up and down Stephen’s body.
“Breeding,” he mused, as if to himself. “You know, if you gave a pig a cultured Southern accent and dressed him in a tailored waistcoat,” – he flicked his gaze back to Stephen’s – “he’d still be a pig.”
“Why you—”
“Stephen!” Callen stepped between Ty and her brother, visibly calming herself. “I want to know where my son is, and I want to know now.” She challenged him with a steady look.
Ty made room for his spunky little wife, then stood back to watch the scene unfold.
It took Stephen several seconds to pull his glare from Ty and focus on his sister.
“He only wants him—”
“Why do I want him, Stephen?” she spat. “Why have I wanted him since the moment I knew I carried him? Since the moment of his birth, imperfect and all? Since the moment you decided to take him away from me and send him off to strangers? Connor is my son! I want him with me. And I don’t give a…a damn!…about the logic behind why you took my child from me!” She stomped up to him and gave him a poke in the chest to rival the one Ty had given Dan at the ruins. Stephen staggered backward but caught himself. “If you do not hand Connor over to us this minute, I will search the corners of…of hell to find an attorney who will represent my case!”
Ty chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her language. He hadn’t realized she’d been paying such attention to his lapses.
Stephen stared at his sister as if her head had just spun completely around on her shoulders. Then the stare turned into a reciprocal challenge. He lifted his gaze to Ty in accusation, looking back at Callen and crossing his arms with a shrug.
“Do your worst.”
His words rang between them like the resounding echo of a painful slap.
Her whole body stiffened.
The silence lasted no more than a moment, but it had as much impact as the first shots fired at Fort Sumter.
“Very well,” she answered, her voice suddenly so calm and pleasant, any man in his right mind would have promised the sky to avoid the obvious, impending doom.
She turned on her heel and strolled away, her skirts swaying as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Ty choked back a laugh, shot the most innocent grin he could muster to a still-wincing Stephen, then closed the pocket doors on his way out of the dining room with all the quiet of a cannon blast.
“Magnolia!” Callen grabbed the servant when the gray-haired woman came rushing out of the kitchen.
“What the devil goin’ on out here?” Magnolia wiped her hands on her apron, a look of censure already on her face. “Did I hear you a cussin’, Miss Callen? You knows I brought you up better’n—”
Callen waved away Magnolia’s scolding.
“Listen to me. You are to keep Stephen occupied.” Callen tugged Magnolia’s arm to make sure she had her attention. “You must intercept any messages he sends, and keep him at Windsor at all costs!”
Ty quirked a brow. He didn’t know what his little bride had up her sleeve, but, clearly, she was a woman with a mission.
“You!” She turned to Ty with determination. “Come with me.”
He followed her, his brows raised, a smile on his lips while he waited patiently for an explanation. On the way to the stables the thought crossed his mind that it felt darned good not being the one in charge for a change, even if he didn’t know what the heck he was getting himself into.
“I thought you didn’t know anyone who would help you get Connor back,” he probed as he trailed behind her into the shadows of a stall.
She yanked down a saddle blanket, then threw it over the back of a friendly-looking brown and white horse.
“I don’t.”
“Then what—”
“Stephen promised me he’d send Connor to Cedar Point five days after I married Evan.” She reached under the horse’s belly and buckled leather straps. “That would have been today, and unless Stephen contacted the couple and canceled his orders, their carriage should be on the Trace sometime during the day, on their way to Evan’s home.” She tightened the straps again, then slipped a bridle over the velvety snout. “We are going to check every vehicle that gets as far as Evan’s drive.”
“We?”
She patted the horse on the rump, then moved to the next stall.
“We.”
Another blanket settled across the back of a massive, reddish-brown beast. Ty grabbed the saddle this time before Callen had a chance to lift it. He nearly dropped the heavy thing before heaving it onto the animal’s back.
“You will keep watch on one side of the drive, and I will do the same on the other.” She reached between four muscular legs that could have killed her with one kick, then fastened the straps. “The road isn’t visible from the house, and it will be much simpler to catch them before they turn up the drive than try to retrieve Connor after they have left him at Cedar Point.”
Ty watched the Godzilla of a horse stomp the earth with its hind foot and toss its mane with an irritated snort when Callen slid the bit between teeth the size of piano keys. He half expected smoke and flames to plume out of its nostrils.
“Umm…and we’re going to ride these horses?” he asked.
She looked up at him as though he’d just asked if the earth were round.
“Because, you know,” he went on, “the only animal I’ve ever ridden was on a pony ride when I was about five years old.”
Her lips quirked with a half-smile and she shrugged.
“I had planned to put you on Jake and I would ride Sugar.”
He tried to keep the horror out of his eyes when he looked at the horse that made Callen look like a Munchkin.
But this was important. They had to find Connor, and they couldn’t very well walk.
“Okaaay,” he said. Making a little peace offering, trying to get acquainted, he patted the nose of the mutant quadruped . “Nice Jake. Nice boy.”
Callen ducked under the horse’s neck and tightened the straps on the saddle again.
“This is Sugar.”
His hand stopped on the downward stroke.
“This is Sugar?”
She went about adjusting the length of the stirrups.
“Of course,” she said. The tiniest twitch of her lips gave her away.
“Oh, well, thanks for that little spell of cardiac arrest.” He gave the center of his chest a thump with his fist. “Everybody needs to have their heart stopped now and then.”
She giggled and slanted a look up at him that nearly buckled h
is knees.
“Troublemaker.” He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, intent on a little teasing of his own. A burst of sunlight filled the stables when the door swung open.
Ty spun around, ready for a fight with Stephen.
“Dan,” he huffed at his brother’s silhouette strolling into the gloom.
“Geez, you’ve got a whole house back there for that kind of stuff.”
Dan wore the clothing – or at least the shirt and trousers – that Callen had given him the night before.
“Just sampling dessert,” Ty said with a wicked grin, “before we head out to find Connor.”
He walked out of the stall and hooked Dan around the neck. “Stephen refused to tell us where he is. But we have a plan. Tell me what you think.”
He and Callen laid out their plan. The three of them decided that Dan should go along instead of risk running into Stephen.
“You can ride with me on Sugar,” Callen offered. “It is not so very far, and it won’t be too uncomfortable.”
Dan glanced around the stables, a protest already springing forth, but Callen stopped him.
“We’ve just the two horses,” she said, “and only because Jacob hid them from the Yankees.” She sighed, her gaze scanning rows of empty stalls. “They took all the livestock, and killed what they didn’t take.” She took Sugar’s reins and led him out of his stall. “Windsor’s stables used to be full of some of the finest horseflesh in the state. Here,” Callen handed Sugar’s reins to Dan, then went back for Jake.
Ty put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed.
Dan looked at the hand, lifted his gaze to Ty, then nodded once; a nod of conspiracy. A nod of brotherhood.
*******
Daniel blocked the road with Sugar while Callen flung open the door to the latest closed carriage.
“What the thunder!” A man with a good five chins thumped an ebony cane on the floor, setting his whole body to jiggling. A tiny mouse of a woman squeaked in the corner, but no little boy cried out for his mama.
Callen slammed the door shut and waved Daniel out of the way. She’d begun the morning apologizing to the various travelers for delaying them, but as morning turned to midday, then late afternoon, frustration overcame any show of manners.
The carriage moved on to the muffled sound of the man yelling something about heathen rebels.
What if the carriage never came? What if Stephen hadn’t stayed as drunk as Magnolia thought? What if he’d already sent a message to the couple to keep Connor with them?
She had no other plan. And she’d angered her brother now to the point that he would never relent.
Daniel guided Sugar to the side of the road and swung off his back with ease. He’d taken to the animal like a boy takes to a puppy.
“What kind of name is Sugar for a horse like this, anyway?” he asked, looping the reins over a low branch, then patting the horse’s bulging jaw.
Callen knew what he was doing, and she smiled at his effort to keep her mind occupied. He truly had a lot of his brother in him.
“Actually, his name is Sugarlump.”
“Sugarlump!” Dan groaned and turned to the huge horse in sympathy. “Sugarlump!”
Sugar rolled his eyes and switched his tail, as if he agreed with Daniel’s sentiment.
“Well, when he was born,” she defended herself, “he was the tiniest, sweetest colt I had ever seen.”
“Oh, but, crimeny,” Dan groaned again, “you just don’t ever give a name like Sugarlump to anything male! Not even a fish, for cryin’ out loud. There should be a law…,” he continued to mutter.
Callen couldn’t help but laugh.
“No one has ever put it in quite such eloquent perspective,” she said. “From now on I will endeavor to be more sensitive when naming anything masculine.”
Dan snorted and snatched up a tall blade of grass.
“Sugarlump,” he muttered in disgust, shivering as if he’d just tasted something nasty.
She laughed at his theatrics, then stiffened at the sound of horses coming from the opposite direction. Ty rode out from his post in the small bend in the road, turning with a shrug when an open phaeton rolled into view.
Most of the carriages that had passed that morning had been open, but they checked them all, nonetheless. After all, the couple no longer had a reason to hide her son, if they were bringing him back to his mother.
Callen picked up a handful of wildflowers, as if she and Dan had just stopped to pick them. The lone man in the phaeton merely tipped his hat with a smile and drove on.
At least he wasn’t someone she knew. The two times neighbors had passed, she and Ty had been forced to say they’d lost something on the road and they’d stopped along there to look for it. Oh, yes, this was Tylar’s cousin, Daniel. No, they didn’t need help finding the…pocket watch, but thank you anyway. Evelyn Dorsey had even had the nerve to ask where they had run off to after Callen left Evan standing at the altar. Ty had made the nosey woman blush to her roots by curling his arm around Callen’s waist, looking down at her with naked lust, then asking Evelyn if she really wanted the answer to that question.
Callen sank to the ground now, heedless of staining the dress she’d worn to marry Evan. She hadn’t taken the time to go to her room for more clothing, and she never planned to wear that dress again anyway. What she could use now was another hug from her husband, and some assurance – false or not – that Connor would be in her arms by the end of the day.
As if their thoughts were one, Ty came to her, walking Jake over next to Sugar, then sliding out of the saddle. Dan took the reins while Ty sank to the grass beside her and pulled her into his arms.
“We’ll find him.” He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “If I have to do a house to house search, we’ll find him.” She leaned into her husband, let him take away her worries, even if for no more than the moment.
The sound of more horses coming from her side of the drive drew them apart. Dan swung himself atop Sugar’s back, but this time the horses carried riders. A handful of Stephen and Evan’s friends trotted into view. Sy Pruitt, Beau Arandale, Edward Forrest, Clyde James, and Samuel Knox all slowed as one when they recognized Callen and Ty.
Standing, Callen brushed clinging bits of dried grass from her skirts, and Ty gave the riders a friendly enough, if challenging, nod. Did he recognize any of them from her aborted wedding?
All of the men glared. At least three of them looked downright hostile – one in particular. They didn’t offer the courtesy of even acknowledging Daniel’s presence. After a slow, threatening trot as Callen made a show of plucking more wildflowers, the group kneed their horses into a canter and turned up Evan’s drive in a cloud of dust.
Ty studied her while Daniel kept a firm rein on Sugar.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked. “Once Hennessey’s buddies tell him we’re out here, I can’t see him kicking back and ignoring us.”
Callen hadn’t thought of that. She’d been concerned solely with watching for Connor. But now Evan quite possibly would come tearing down the drive to demand satisfaction for stealing away his betrothed and embarrassing him in front of friends and family. He could challenge Ty. Perhaps goad him into dueling with weapons instead of feet or fists. She could lose her husband – all over again.
But she might also lose her chance to find their son.
She looked at Ty, wringing her hands. He gazed back, strong and steady, telling her with his eyes that he would fight Evan and anyone else if she wanted to stay. That he would wait there and stop every traveler who passed until they found Connor…who, she reminded herself, might not even be on the road to Cedar Point.
She shook her head, squinting into the sinking sun. The cost was too dear.
“Let’s go,” she said, hitching up her skirts, giving Daniel her hand to help her onto Sugar’s back.
Somehow she would get the information out of Stephen. The brother she loved, the bro
ther she’d grown up with, had to be somewhere inside that shell of a man. And, if all else failed, she no longer held the status of widow. Surely, with her husband by her side, they could legally force Stephen to disclose Connor’s whereabouts. She just prayed her brother wouldn’t bring the situation to that consequence.
Ty swung onto Jake’s back, already with more expertise than he had shown that morning. Daniel had proven to have such a strong hand with Sugar – kindred rebel spirits, perhaps – that Callen settled herself behind him and allowed him control of the reins.
The boy seemed to sit up a bit taller.
They trotted away, down the road toward Windsor. Traffic had picked up, with travelers hastening to get home before the sun went down. The Trace was not a safe place after dark. They passed several lone riders and two buggies that Callen studied from over Daniel’s shoulder, her heart in her throat. In the first, a curricle, Sylvia Benchly, Evan’s cousin, gaped at Callen, then slipped her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm and lifted her nose skyward. The snub didn’t bother Callen in the least. The second buggy carried strangers.
Ty trotted beside Daniel and Callen in silence. Several minutes passed as they covered a mile or so with the road all to themselves. Then the sound of horses came from both directions.
“We’ve got company,” Ty said, his very tone announcing the identity of the riders.
Callen glanced behind her at the group in the distance. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. The only thing that could make matters worse was if the oncoming carriage held Stephen. Somehow she wouldn’t be surprised.
“Just keep riding,” Ty said, “and let me deal with them.”
Callen glanced behind her again at the riders gaining ground. Ty neither slowed Jake’s pace, nor sped up. She craned her neck over Daniel’s shoulder and squinted at the carriage coming toward them. Would these people stop and help, if Stephen wasn’t one of the occupants?
Suddenly her stomach clenched in recognition and her heart leapt to her throat.
Oh, God! Oh, God, no! What now?
“Daniel, stop!” she cried, her voice shaking, her insides trembling as she slid from Sugar’s still-trotting hindquarters. She had to get to him first!
