“Better than sugar cookies?” Evie asked as she held open the front door.
Brenna perked at the word cookies. Brad gave Evie an amused look. “Hey, no fair siccing her on my sugar cookies.”
“You like sugar cookies?” Brenna asked.
“Almost as much as I like my wife.”
The glance Brenna sent her questioned Evie’s worth compared to a sugar cookie, but obviously a trend of loving all things Brad was starting, because she nodded. “I’ll like them, too. Do you like sugar cookies?” the little girl asked Evie.
Evie wished she could be as open as Brad. “Not as much as my husband does.”
Brad shook his head as he passed by. “You are a hard woman, Evie Swanson.”
Was she? Evie didn’t want to think so, but it wasn’t as easy for her to be as affectionate as Brad, so maybe she was. Maybe she’d spent so many years fighting that she didn’t know how to stop. Maybe she was as hard and crusty as a hermit.
“I don’t mean to be.”
Brad straightened, eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. Had she said the wrong thing? “Now that will be an interesting topic of conversation for later.”
Meaning they didn’t have time for it, but now that she’d brought the subject up, she found she was itching to discuss it. So much so that she felt as if she was coming out of her skin. “I’ll look forward to it.”
That got her another strange glance from Brad, and another complaint from Brenna. “I’m hungry.”
“I can’t get you something to eat until Doc clears you.”
Her face crumpled. “But I’m hungry now!”
For the first time, Evie saw Brad look helpless. It was both endearing and disturbing. She’d rather enjoyed thinking of him as invulnerable. Reaching over, she grabbed her sketchbook off the table by the couch. “Maybe we can have some fun to take your mind off your empty stomach.”
“What kind of fun?”
“I thought maybe I’d draw a picture of you to take to your momma.”
Her lips trembled. “They locked her up.”
Evie started sketching. “I know, but the Reverend will get her out.”
“He will?
“I will?”
She didn’t look up from her drawing, working fast, adding detail to the bolder outline. “Yes, he will.”
Brenna’s lips kept trembling. That wasn’t the expression Evie wanted to capture. Evie worked on the girl’s hair, wishing she had paints to capture the vibrant red.
“Bull is very mean and very big,” Brenna said.
“The Reverend has God on his side. There’s no one bigger and meaner.”
Brenna didn’t look convinced.
Brad grunted and sat on the arm of Evie’s chair. “How about I call the McKinnelys to come with me?”
“Gray, too?”
Obviously, the child thought the boy could walk on water. “I was thinking I’d assign him to guard you.”
That got a smile. A big one, complete with a missing tooth. Evie sketched like a mad woman, wanting to catch the essence of the child for her mother. Brenna’s mother might be a prostitute, but she’d taken a lot of care with her daughter, teaching her manners and diction. Enough so that it was clear she truly loved her. Any mother who could instill manners under those circumstances deserved to see her daughter shine. And Brenna did shine when she grinned. Her rather ordinary features took on a gamine charm when she smiled, giving a glimpse of the woman she was going to be. An unconventional beauty, but a beauty for sure.
“Are you almost done?”
“Almost.”
“Will my momma like it?”
“Your momma will smile for sure when she sees it.”
Adding a last bit of shading, Evie studied the work. “Not bad.”
Brad took the pad from her.
“Hey.”
She couldn’t believe how long the seconds stretched before he offered his opinion. “Better than not bad. I’d say it’s perfect.” He turned the pad around. “What do you think?”
Brenna didn’t say anything for the longest time. She reached out and touched the portrait. “Is that really how I look?”
It was moments like this when Evie loved her talent. “I only draw what I see.”
“And I look like that?”
It was Brad who answered. “Exactly like that.”
Brenna pulled her free hand back and tucked it against her stomach. “Not an ugly, freckled whore’s get?”
Brad stilled. The glance he cut Evie contained a question.
“Some children were teasing Brenna about her freckles,” Evie offered.
“Those must have been some very jealous children.”
Brenna’s chin came up defensively, as if she heard the undertone and suspected the cause had to do with her. “Gray thinks I’m beautiful.”
Brad removed the page from the pad and handed it to Brenna, his voice too soft, his moves too controlled.
“Gray has excellent taste.”
THE MCKINNELYS ARRIVED with a flourish. Two buggies and three horses pulled up to the house, making enough noise to wake the dead. Brad opened the door. Jenna rushed past, carrying little Bri. Dorothy and Doc were not far behind.
“Where is she?” Doc snapped, all business.
“She’s upstairs with Evie.”
“She’s awake?”
“And hungry.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” Jenna asked, gripping the railing at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’d say so.”
Doc couldn’t get past. “Jenna, you need to move.”
She looked over Doc’s head to where Clint was coming in the door. With her chin she motioned to Bri.
“I need help up the stairs.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Brad took a step forward.
Clint shouldered past. “Because she knows I’d have trouble with a good-looking bastard such as yourself getting near her.”
“Clint!”
“What?” Clint grumbled, slipping his arm around Jenna’s waist. “It’s the truth.”
Doc shooed them with rapid motions of his hands. “I have a patient waiting.”
“No one’s keeping you from her,” Brad argued.
“Jenna is.”
Jenna’s square chin set in a stubborn line. “I promised Gray I’d be there.”
“What does the boy think I’m going to do to her?” Doc growled in his gravelly voice.
“Nothing. I just promised.”
Cougar came through the door carrying Mara. Shit. More trouble.
“Doc!”
Doc didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. “Cougar still being a fool?”
“He’s carrying Mara.”
“Call me when he stops being a fool.”
Brad turned. On closer inspection, Mara looked more furious than sick. “Exactly how foolish are you being?”
Cougar headed for the parlor. “She’s carrying my baby.”
“So you have to carry her?”
Mara, arms folded over her chest, glared at Cougar before blowing her bangs off her forehead.
“To him, it makes sense.”
“I’m not losing you.”
“But you’re not worried about driving me away?”
He set her on the horsehair sofa with infinite care, before squatting before her. “If you run, you know I’ll come after you.”
“For all the good it will do you.”
He sat back on his heels. “You planning on hiding?”
“You’re making it sound awfully good. At least until the baby’s born.”
He frowned. “You’re not having that baby without me.”
Mara frowned right back. “Keep it up, and just watch me.”
“Goddamn it, Mara.”
Mara ignored him and asked Brad, “How is Gray’s friend?”
“Hungry for biscuits.”
“Do you have any?” Dorothy asked.
“No.” Why did he feel he wa
s remiss?
“Then I’d better get on making some,” Dorothy offered with her usual cheer.
“I’ll help,” Mara chimed in, scooting out from under Cougar’s arm. Cougar caught her when she would have skipped past. “Walk.”
When she spun around and glared at him, he used her momentum to pull her into his arms. The kiss he pressed on her lips was hard and fraught with the emotion simmering under the surface. His “I worry” was gruff.
Mara melted like butter. Patting his chest, she stepped back. “I know, but you have to stop.”
“Coming?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes.”
Cougar watched her go.
“She’s right, you know,” Brad said.
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“Enough to know when someone’s had enough.”
“Worry about your own wife.”
He did, every day. This was getting very ugly, very fast, and he was living on borrowed time. “I’ve got her under control.”
Cougar snorted. “That why she’s spending her evenings facing down Bull in the saloon alley with nothing more than bravado and an empty gun?”
Shit. The gun wasn’t loaded? He and Evie were definitely going to have to talk. “She knew what she was doing.”
“Sounds to me like she was winging it.”
“Something for which I’m grateful,” Clint interjected, coming down the stairs. “From the parts Gray glossed over, he had himself in way over his head.”
“You need to get that boy under control.”
“He’s touchy about things he cares about.”
Brad ran his hand through his hair. “And he cares about Brenna?”
“Enough to knife Bull.”
First Casey coming back, and now Bull bent on revenge. Life was complicating fast. “Bull will be out for his blood.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Not alone, you won’t,” Brad muttered.
“Cougar and I can handle it.”
“The bastard pulled a gun on my wife. Threatened her.”
“I’ve never dragged a preacher to a hanging before.”
“Just think of it as saving time. Brenna is Brenda’s daughter.”
It only took Cougar a second to put the picture together. “That would make Casey—”
“Brenna’s father,” Brad finished for him.
“Why didn’t she recognize you?” Cougar asked.
“She was tiny last time I saw her.”
“At least that’s one bit of luck.” Clint ran his fingers through his long hair. “You do like to complicate things, don’t you?”
Apparently to the point of keeping the inevitable explosion contained. “Lately, I seem to have developed a knack.”
The front door opened, and Asa and Jackson strolled in. “For finding trouble?” Asa asked.
“I didn’t go looking for it.”
“Got to disagree there,” Jackson interrupted. “It’s clear you have a soft spot for women; otherwise, they wouldn’t always see you as their savior.”
Brad glared at Jackson. With his long blond hair, ever-present smile, and skill at turning a joke, a person could be misled into thinking there wasn’t any substance to the man. But Jackson was as practical as the day was long and his sense of fair play had caused more than one outlaw to find his life cut short because he didn’t understand the skill that backed that smile. Or else underestimated the practicality that said the most efficient means to an end was to kill the son of a bitch standing between Jackson and right.
“You implying you have better things to do with your time?”
Jackson leaned against the wall just inside the door. “Absolutely. With you out of the running, there are lots of broken hearts that need consoling and I’d much prefer lounging in a soft bed to digging a grave.”
“Who the hell said we were burying the son of a bitch?” Asa growled.
“I did,” Dorothy called from the kitchen. “It’s indecent to leave dead bodies hanging about.”
“Heck, Dorothy, you ever seen Bull?” Brad called. “It’d take two days just to dig a hole big enough.”
“If you’re too lazy to dig a grave then I guess you’ll have to settle this without killing anyone.”
Which had been the point she wanted delivered. Asa sighed. “You’re a hard woman, Dorothy.”
“Just keeping you boys on the straight and narrow. I’m going to make some coffee. It’ll be ready shortly.”
Cougar shook his head. “The woman’s worse than a conscience.”
“So if we can’t kill him, what are we going to do with him?” Jackson asked.
“Make him wish he was dead.”
That wasn’t going to be enough for Brad, and he suspected not enough for Gray. Speaking of which . . . “Where’s Gray?”
“Repairing his pride after a trip to the woodshed,” Clint answered.
Brad went cold inside. He’d had more than a few of those in his youth. “How badly is he hurt?”
Clint snapped straight. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
He was stepping in it every way he turned, but Brad couldn’t let it go. “The kid stepped between Evie and a bullet. I’d be more than a bit put out if you hurt him.”
“You’d be even more put out if he got himself killed,” Jackson interjected.
“Shut up, Jackson.”
“No need to get upset, Rev.” Cougar sighed, casting a worried glance at the kitchen. “Clint doesn’t have it in him to lay a hand on the kid.”
Brad had seen Clint gut men without batting an eye. “Uh-huh.”
“The kid’s had enough trouble,” Clint offered. “Beating him wouldn’t make any difference.”
“See,” Cougar waved his hand. “Gone soft.”
“So what did you do?”
Clint glared.
Jackson laughed. “Damn near talked his ear off. It’s a wonder the kid didn’t beg for a beating just to get out from under all the guilt Clint piled on.”
“He could have gotten Brenna and Evie killed. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is.”
“Not to mention risking himself,” Dorothy said, bringing in a tray with six coffee mugs.
Brad rose and took the tray from her.
“Thank you.”
“Where do you want it?”
“The parlor’s fine. You need to rein that boy in. He needs to learn it’s not only him against the world. He’s got family to depend on now.”
“Why are you putting this on me? I’m not his father.”
“Because, not being his father, your opinion will hold weight. And”—she paused to wipe her hands on her apron—“because it’s your responsibility.”
“How so?”
She snapped her apron straight, glaring at him as if he’d just insulted her intelligence. “Because you’re family, too.”
He could only stare as she headed back to the kitchen.
Asa took the tray from Brad and led the few steps to the parlor. “Didn’t you know?”
He shook his head, the words flowing through him, sinking past his horror to the longing he’d never managed to kill off. Family. Dorothy thought he was family?
Putting the coffee on the parlor table, Asa sighed. “I probably should have warned you, having firsthand experience and all with their sneaky, claiming ways—”
Brad turned to Cougar, anger burning a cold hole in his gut. The likes of him could never be family. “You told Dorothy you claimed me?”
Cougar shrugged and picked up one of the cups. “You pretty much sealed your fate the day you turned against your gang and saved our asses.”
“I would have done that for anyone given the same circumstances.” He didn’t hold with murder.
“But you did it for us,” Clint said, helping himself to a cup.
“What the hell is she going to do when the truth about what I am comes out?”
It was Jackson who answered. “Whatever she feels is right.”
Shit. “You had no right.”
No right to make him vulnerable, no right to set Dorothy up for hurt. No right to create that shimmer in his long-dead dream.
“We feel differently.”
“And all that matters is what you feel?”
Cougar smiled, eying Brad’s clenched fists with something akin to anticipation. “In this case, Rev, pretty much.”
“You two can discuss your differences later,” Asa interrupted. “Right now, we have bigger fish to fry.”
Brad not only planned on discussing it, he intended on finishing it, his plan to simply walk away when this was over was now dead in the water. Cougar had efficiently nipped that in the bud.
He glanced out the window to the night beyond.
Happy now? Are enough people going to be hurt by this yet to satisfy you?
As usual, there was no answer.
“What’s the plan for the evening?” Jackson asked, shaking his head when Asa offered him a cup. “Are we letting Bull live or not?”
Brad grabbed the cup out of his hand, not wincing when the hot liquid splashed over his fingers, taking the small punishment for what it was, an incremental prelude to the hell the rest of his life was going to be when the events that had been brewing the last few months came to a head. “I don’t know what the rest of you have planned, but I’m going to kill that worthless son of a bitch Bull, and then I’m going to get Brenda.”
BRENNA WENT STIFF as a board in Evie’s arms when Doc and Jenna entered the room. Evie pretended not to notice, just smiled at them from where she sat on the bed. “Thank goodness you’re here, Doc. Brenna is about to expire from hunger.”
“Well, it would be a real shame to lose such a fine young lady for want of such a simple cure.”
Brenna frowned at him as if there was an insult couched in the compliment. “Gray says I’m pretty.”
As a shield, it was a pitiful one, but Brenna threw it out like it was made of granite. Everyone had to believe someone, and Brenna obviously believed Gray.
“Yes. He does.” Jenna limped in, patting a fussing Bri’s back. “He told me you were beautiful.”
“You’re his mother.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her frown deepened. “He loves you.”
Jenna smiled gently. “Thank you for telling me. Sometimes, I’m not sure.”
Brenna folded her arms across her chest, her lips pressing flat. “He can’t love me.”
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