by Cait London
Still locked in his thoughts of Jillian and her puzzling fear of him, he flipped open the file Liam had given him. Sybil, Duncan’s wife, had prepared a genealogical chart of his family. Una Fearghus, Scots bondwoman, had married the chieftain who had captured her, Tallchief. Their son, Liam, had married Elizabeth Montclair, an Englishwoman, and their son, Ewan, had gone to Alaska. He married a Frenchwoman, Josette Benoit. Their three children had returned to the American West, and Liam’s father, Jamie, had married Tina Olson.
Adam’s eyes read the words, and his mind understood them, but contrasting images of Jillian, the girl and the woman, wouldn’t let his thoughts stay on course. Adam slapped the file closed and picked up Jillian’s check, studying the large, perfect, feminine script. He tossed the check back to the table and jammed his hands into his back pockets.
With the crackle of the fire in the old woodstove, Adam considered his choices. He could burn the check, make his excuses, and be on his way. He could forget meeting Jillian again. Or he could take Elspeth’s recommendation to “stand and fight.”
He reopened the box with the feathers and studied them, nestled together within the bounds of the old ribbon. Perhaps Jillian and he were like that, tied by the past, until it could be put aside and they each went on their way.
Or not. Adam stroked the white dove’s feather, feminine beside the rakish appearance of the hawk’s. Maybe he wanted to know what haunted her, why she feared that slight brush of his lips. Maybe he wanted to tear her apart for believing Tom’s lies instead of the truth.
He tapped the check with a fingertip. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had of Jillian. He slid it inside the file folder for safekeeping.
Whatever ran between Jillian and himself, Adam wanted to examine it and he needed more time. He was considering his next step, when Elspeth called his mobile telephone number. “Tomorrow we’re having a family gathering at the old homestead, where Duncan and Sybil live now. We’re expecting you. Be prepared to eat.”
“Should I bring anything?” Adam asked, and realized that this was his first family gathering. His maternal grandparents were deceased and Aunt Sarah had been his only relative.
“Aye. Bring your heart and a good set of nerves for the children who will be sizing you up to Liam and their uncles. You’ll have tiny fingers in your ears and probably be wearing drool on your shoulder before the night is over,” she teased softly. “You’re definitely a fresh candidate for diaper changing.”
“Aye,” he replied, returning the tease with a smile. “If you’re trying to frighten me off, it isn’t working.”
When they said goodbye, Adam shook his head. This “family gathering” summons was his first, and he was set to enjoy it. Maybe the years of traveling had left him hungering for a home and the sound of women and children. Maybe there was more of Sam the Truck in Adam, reflecting the constant travel; but Adam lacked Sam the Truck’s friends. Perhaps that was why Adam enjoyed creating the stories and the products, a family all his own.
He dialed Sam the Truck’s corporate offices and left a message for an overnight shipment of the toys. It would be a heartwarming scene he intended to remember, the Tallchief children happily playing with his creations.
The next day, a drift of light snow swirled around Liam’s pickup truck as Adam drove to the Tallchief Cattle Ranch. The chill of the late afternoon foretold a cold night; the smoke rising from the sprawling rock and wood home was inviting. Soaring in the distance was rugged, snow-covered Tallchief Mountain and the nearby lake looked black and cold, whitecaps whipped by the late March winds.
Adam parked beside other cars and pickups in front of the home where the five Tallchiefs—Duncan, Calum, Birk, Fiona and Elspeth—had fought to stay together after their parents were killed. “Stand and fight,” Elspeth had said, and Adam wondered if he were meant to stay in one place for long. He already knew how to fight—survival in New Pony after he’d testified against the teenage gang had been no easy affair.
A quick survey of the various parked vehicles told him that Jillian hadn’t arrived. Just as well, Adam brooded silently; he wasn’t finished with her or certain of controlling the temper she could still rake from him. He didn’t want to make a bad impression on the family Liam treasured, as did he.
In a last-minute fancy, and proud of Elspeth’s gift, Adam had slung the Tallchief plaid around his shoulders. The wind tugged at it now. Collecting the big sack filled with a variety of Sam the Truck models—from the elaborate with a doll driver down to the plastic with rounded edges for toddlers—Adam stepped from the truck. He hunched his peacoat collar up against the wind that smelled fresh and clean, scented of pine and smoke. After a day of clearing up the rubble in front of the cabin, hauling the old linoleum away and burning the wooden rubble, Adam had given himself to the mind-clearing task of chopping wood. Sam’s brand new friend Nancy the Flatbed Hauler needed a spiffy ad campaign launch with a new storybook already brewing in Adam’s mind. He could almost see Nancy on the plastic highway with her other friends—Tracy the Pickup Truck and Eddie the Railroad Crossing Warning with his red light and his long, movable, black-and-white arm.
In the distance, veiled by the light snow, cattle grazed upon several huge round bales of hay. To the other side and sheltered from the elements by a rock bluff, the thick coats of a small sheep herd almost blended with the snow. “Aye,” he whispered to the wind, lifting his face to it. Amen Flats was a place for belonging—if you weren’t the footloose kind.
Elspeth opened the door before he knocked, a toddler balanced on her hip, this time not her own, but with eyes just as gray and hair as black. A long sleek braid coursed down her red sweater. “Aye. It is a good home to come to when the heart is weary. The house has been added to and changed a bit, but holds a treasure of memories of dark times and of good. Ah, you’re wearing the plaid. That’s good, wearing of the colors when you come home. I only wish I could talk my brothers into doing the same more often.”
“Da?” the toddler ventured, holding out his chubby arms to Adam.
The warmth of Elspeth’s knowing welcome, the life and scents inside the house, and the boy, unafraid of strangers, curled around Adam’s heart. He rummaged through the sack of toys and found a squeaking, rounded plastic truck, just right for a teething toddler, whose delighted squeal caught the attention of the other children.
“You’ve only got one heartbeat to take off that coat before they get you,” Elspeth whispered as Alek came to place an arm around her. “Come in and meet the rest of your family. You’re rested, I hope?”
Alek, editor of Amen Flats’s newspaper, tugged his wife’s long braid and grinned. “You’d better be. There’s no rest amid this crew. Fetch this, carry that, get more wood, change the diapers—uh,” he grunted as Elspeth’s elbow lightly sought his ribs.
She placed the toddler on the floor and as he made his way across the room, Birk caught and tickled him before lifting him into his arms. The scent of baking bread and love curled invitingly around Adam as he studied the huge room, filled with a family he’d never known.
Elspeth took the plaid and hung it by the peacoat Adam handed her. She waited patiently while his gaze skimmed the room. Near the huge rock fireplace hung a spear draped with the Tallchief plaid, the barn wood burned with the Tallchief Cattle Ranch brand, a stick man and mountain. In a warm corner, an old wooden cradle with a sleeping baby was being rocked by a loving hand.
The expressions of tenderness and warmth struck Adam as he noted their faces, most with coloring matching his own gray eyes and black hair. He nodded to Liam with Michelle sitting upon his lap.
Elspeth made sweeping introductions while children played on the floor and bounced on knees and slept in loving arms. There was Nick, holding hands with his Silver, Duncan with his red-haired wife, the genealogist and the antique huntress, Sybil. Calum stroked his wife Talia’s long blond hair, and Birk toyed with his petite wife’s, Lacey, curling black hair. Rafe Palladin had arrived with his Demi, an
d Joel’s arms were around his wife, Fiona Tallchief Palladin.
The love in the room stunned Adam full-force. As did the look of instant acceptance, as though he had always been one of them.
A beautiful girl, just college-age, came sauntering to him. The firelight played over her long red hair. The younger boy at her side, clearly adored her. “I’m Emily, Sybil and Duncan’s daughter.”
“I’m Cody Palladin, Joel and Fiona’s son,” the boy said promptly.
She slid him a cool, older-woman look, then J.T. pushed through their legs. J.T. locked both arms around Adam’s leg. “He’s mine! This is my uncle Adam. He’s my daddy’s brother and he’s been all over the world. He’s going to come to preschool with me and tell all about sharks and lions and castles and sunken treasures. He’s going to find what he’s lost and what he’s hunting—right here with us—that’s what my daddy says.”
When Adam glanced at Liam, his brother was suddenly finding the rough beams of the ceiling very interesting.
Emily’s hand on J.T.’s head was gentle but firm with warning. “I have something to say,” she announced clearly to the room with the elegance of royalty. She placed her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I claim thee for my Black Knight,” she stated dramatically. “’Twas not long ago that I claimed Duncan, Birk and Calum. The others came later, but mean just as much. When I was young, they took away my fear, and I belonged. I trust you with my safety and my family, oh, Black Knight of the Tallchiefs. In return, I grant you my everlasting friendship and love—with one condition. Do not try to fix me up with a boyfriend.”
“I swear I will leave your love life untouched. The decisions are yours.”
“The bargain is sealed, Black Knight.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and took the opportunity to peer inside his sack. “I don’t suppose there is anything for me in there.”
“Emily!” Sybil admonished.
Adam solemnly gave Emily the special collector’s Sam the Truck. “I hold your trust dear, m’lady. I shall fight to keep all that is dear to you with my last breath. Please take this humble treasure as my pledge.”
She beamed up at him and a steady blush crept up her cheeks. “You’re okay, I guess.”
Fascinated with Emily’s happy expression, Cody straightened. “I pledge to do whatever he said,” he announced boldly.
Adam handed the sack to Cody. “I don’t suppose you’d help pass these out, would you? And take one for yourself?”
“Will I? Will I? I love Sam the Truck,” Cody said, forgetting his attempt to impress the elegant, beautiful Emily. He took the sack and hurried to sit in the center of the braided rug, the children clamoring to sit around him.
While Cody meticulously chose the appropriate model for the age of the children, Elspeth stood on tiptoe to kiss Adam’s cheek. She patted it gently as a knock sounded on the front door. “You’ve got their hearts already, now you’d better tend your own.”
Jillian entered and glanced at Adam coolly; her smile to the rest of the Tallchief family was filled with warmth. She glanced at the children playing on the floor, the Sam the Truck models grasped tightly in their hands. “Did I miss the party?”
“Not at all. Jillian O’Malley, meet Adam Tallchief, our wandering cousin. He’s staying with us for a while and brought the toys. Emily has already claimed him as a Black Knight.” Elspeth took the covered dish Jillian carried, giving it to Alek with a look that said, “Place it on the table.”
“J.T. seemed pleased enough with his Sam the Truck set and I thought it might make a good impression.”
Jillian’s narrowed look took in his comfortable, clean, but worn gray sweater, jeans and loafers. Her expression said she doubted his ability to pay for the toys. “If a costly one.”
“An expense I can afford—I’ve come into a bit of money recently,” he said to remind her that they’d tangled twice and he was more than ready for a third helping. Adam noted the furious lash of Jillian’s gaze, though her lips were smiling. He noted again the way she stiffened when he moved close. “Let me take your coat.”
He couldn’t resist a tug at that silky hair, a boyish urge to tease her, too intense to be denied.
Her eyes narrowed and a slight flush rose in her cheeks, a reflection of the anger she was fighting to control. “I hear you travel the world, never settling for long, Mr. Tallchief. Are you planning to stay long here?”
“Adam,” he corrected while children’s shouts of delight brought their parents all down to the floor to play. His eyes locked with Jillian’s. “As long as it takes.”
She smiled coldly and moved away into the family playing on the floor. Every instinct in Adam told him to go after her—more, it told him to pick her up and carry her out of the house, to taste those lips once again. When he was able to tear his eyes away, Elspeth’s cool gray ones were waiting. “Our ancestor, Tallchief, was a hunter. I’d say it runs in the family,” she said as though understanding he would seek Jillian out wherever she went.
The dinner set at the huge table was not a quiet affair with parents feeding children, the talk a blend of crops, family and Jillian’s work for Silver’s new ad campaign. Seated across from Adam, Jillian avoided looking at him. Then, in clearing the table, passing back and forth from the kitchen, she leaned close. “So you’re already spending my money and none of it on tickets out of here. I thought that was our agreement. You can’t stay and let this family provide for you. And you’d better not take the pickup truck that Liam loaned you when you go. Michelle says that truck is almost another baby to him. She’s quite fond of the hours they’ve spent together beneath it.”
“I don’t remember any agreement between you and me, Jilly-dear,” he whispered back, and let his gaze wander appreciatively down her classic black sweater and slacks. The pearl strand was creamy and elegant and genuine, just like Jillian, bred for perfection, for the ideal life. But now there were curves filling out the cloth and the flash in her eyes spoke of anger—simmering and withheld, but real anger, just the same. “You’ve changed a bit since you were young and sweet.”
Jillian sniffed, turned up her nose and hurried away to collect another stack of dishes. Adam crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, waiting for her to pass by him and into the kitchen. She shot him a hot, narrowed-eyed glare. “They’ll see through you soon enough, Adam. They’ll try to put you to work and you’ll be stuck for answers and you’ll be gone, just when they are counting on you.”
“Hmm. Work. Now there’s a new thought,” he returned lazily, thinking of all the lumber he’d cut and cleared, the horses he’d broken, the harvesting of crops, the ships he’d sailed and unloaded, the buildings he’d helped construct. More often than not, he’d dragged home at night, too tired to eat or sleep before the next day started it all over again. Even now, with Sam’s success, he preferred hard, exhausting physical labor to sleepless nights and mourning Sarah.
She pushed the stack of dishes at him. “The other men are helping. You could do the same. You ate enough for two.”
“So you noticed? I didn’t know I interested you so much.” Adam’s taunt belied his discomfort. He’d rarely been in family settings and was at odds with the duties of a guest.
“You don’t. For them, you’ve got to do something with your life. So they won’t have a shirttail relative always needing money. You’ve got to be respectable,” she whispered at him, then glanced down at J.T. who was looking up at the adults curiously.
“I’m working on it. Don’t worry, I won’t cash the check locally. No one will know you wrote one to me.”
“You must have. Those toys are expensive.”
“I like toys, and especially Sam the Truck,” J.T. stated firmly below the brewing, yet controlled argument.
Adam handed the dishes back to her and picked up his nephew. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, J.T.?”
“Aye,” J.T. murmured, and studied Jillian seriously with his gray eyes. He looped an arm around Adam’s shoulders. “But she�
�s lonely. There’s a boy at preschool with that same look. His mom just went to heaven. His dad works all the time.”
“Mmm. Maybe there is a truck in the sack for him. Let’s go see,” Adam said, and carried the boy into the living room. He suspected that J.T.’s observation was correct, but now was not the time to question Jillian. He intended to make more time with her, to wipe away the memories that had haunted him for years.
Why should she care about Adam Tallchief? Why would one look at him, standing with a child on his hip, a child that matched his gray eyes and glossy black hair, stun her? Why would the image of Adam, preparing to leave the Tallchiefs, their plaid slung over his peacoat excite her?
Maybe as an artist, she was susceptible to images. Maybe as a woman, the biological tug to have a child of her own went straight to her womb. Maybe Adam Tallchief didn’t have her thinking straight; he brought the past and her pain with him, intent upon examining his own wounds.
His face was hard now, not a boy’s, and those sleepy, careless looks he gave her didn’t fool her. The need for revenge coursed through him, the same as hers coursed through her. But she wouldn’t allow hers to erupt, to make the Tallchiefs uncomfortable.
Jillian shoved open the door to her house and moved through the soft shadows. She preferred her comfortable, rented home to the bright revealing light. She stripped off her coat and lit a small arrangement of candles, intent upon having a quiet glass of wine to settle her nerves after the encounter with Adam.
She poured sangria into a cup and kicked off her shoes. They were practical now, black leather flats and not dress heels as she once wore. She’d once had the perfect set of wineglasses, Irish crystal, and now she used a plain white cup purchased at a discount store. But then, she wasn’t hosting Kevin’s dinner parties as he wangled for a bid in an election, was she? She sipped the wine and thought how well the cup served her needs as a single woman, tossing away the past—but she couldn’t, could she? Not with Adam prowling through her mind, her dreams.
