by Sharon Ihle
Nathan wasn't going to be put off this night, that much was certain, but how much of the truth could his heart handle? Especially in his condition? Slowly, carefully, Cole tried to explain his position. "I don't know what Liz wants to do, and frankly, Dad, I don't care. I have no plans to marry her now or ever."
"Ah, come on, son. You two make a perfect couple, and together," Nathan winked and smirked, "you two would make perfect babies."
When his father's laughter subsided, Cole made a final effort to convince him otherwise. "I don't love Elizabeth. In fact, I didn't know what love was until I met Sunny."
"That damn squaw? Is that what's holding you back?"
Cole watched the color flare in Nathan's cheeks, saw the embers flickering beneath the dry tinder of his beard. "Calm down, Dad. Remember your heart."
"You remember my heart," Nathan boomed, slamming his fist onto the desk for emphasis. "You think real hard about it before you bring up such nonsense as loving a damn injun, for heaven's sake."
Cole's jaw tensed at his father's words, but he knew better than provoke him any further. The time would come, and soon, but for now he would have to find a way to get Nathan to go to bed. "I'm too tired to talk about this tonight. Let's turn in." Again he started to rise, but his father's voice shoved him back into the chair.
"We're gonna have this out now, boy." Nathan tossed another shot of whiskey down his throat, then pointed a thick finger at his son. "I got no argument about your wanting that little gal. Hell, if I was ten years younger and in better health, I might take a stab at her myself."
"That's enough." Cole sprang out of his seat, his fists balled tightly in anger.
"Now, don't go getting you dander up, son. I only meant that I can understand your needs, what you're driving at."
"I doubt that you do. Goodnight, Dad."
"Hold on a minute."
Only the flush of Nathan's skin and the strange gargled noise bubbling in his throat, kept Cole in the room. He would listen, he would have to listen, but he vowed to keep his silence for now. Slowly turning to face his father, Cole shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and regarded him through cold, flat eyes. "What is it, Dad?"
"You're not thinking things through, son." Nathan wobbled to his feet, straining for balance. "What about your kids, my grandkids? You're the only hope your ma and I got to carry on our line. Think of that before you reject the idea of marrying Liz Scott."
Nodding, Cole conceded, "I'll be sure to think about it."
"Don't think you're outsmarting me." Nathan waved a wild arm harmlessly, then leaned heavily on one elbow.
"Dad, please. You've got to get some rest."
"Don't tell me what I gotta do. Here's what you’ve gotta do. Sleep with that dirty little injun if you have to, empty yourself in her savage body if you think that's what you gotta have, but hear me and hear me good."
Nathan looked up from the desk, his eyes bloodshot from his exertions, his pupils swimming from the whiskey, and pleaded, "Marry Liz Scott. Keep this little injun gal on the side if you just can't turn her loose, but make your babies with your wife, son. Give me the pretty white grandkids I crave. You deserve that much. So do I."
Sunny leaned against the door jamb of the study and took several deep breaths. Suddenly off balance, sick to her stomach, the words echoed painfully in her mind: Sleep with that dirty injun, keep her on the side, marry Liz Scot, give me pretty white grandkids.
She'd been looking through the house for Cole, heard angry voices shouting from somewhere, and found herself standing in front of Nathan's study just a few moments ago. She hadn't planned to eavesdrop. She meant to turn away as soon as she recognized the voices. But then, she'd heard her own name and the nasty accusations that followed had frozen her to the spot.
Cole? Sunny mouthed his name, waiting, wishing he would answer his father's outrageous demands and profess his undying love for her. But there was only silence. Cole's silence. Cole's concession.
She whirled around, moving on feet made of feathers, and ran blindly from the house. Once outside, Sunny caught her breath and made a dash for the barn, praying as she picked her way across the yard that Sean was inside. After pushing the heavy doors aside, Sunny waited for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, then she scrambled up the ladder to the loft.
"Sean?" she called in a whisper. "Sean, please. Are you up there?"
Hay rustled, then Sean stepped out of the shadows. "Sunny? Is that you?"
"Yes," she whispered just as she launched her trembling body across the bedding straw and into his arms. "Oh, my brother, I have been such a fool."
Her tears fell, splattering the checkered fabric of his shirt, and Sean stood quietly waiting for the storm to pass before he inquired, "What troubles you so, little sister?"
But her sobs cut off her breath, made conversation impossible.
Sean dropped the gun he'd grabbed when the barn doors opened, and coaxed his sister to sit down in the straw. "Hush now. Relax and tell me what's happened."
Sunny leaned back, stared up at the ceiling, and took several gulps of air. More in control now, she sat up and murmured, "I do not belong here. Not for the two more weeks I had asked that you allow me, and not for any longer than this night. I wish to go home with you and Eileen."
"And you shall." Her pain cut into him as if it were his own. Sean draped a comforting arm across her shoulders. "Tell me, though. What has happened to hurt you so?"
But the cruel statements and thoughtless words she'd heard wouldn't form in her own mouth. "I have discovered that you were right, that I have tried to become something I am not. I do not belong here and I know I must go. If I stay, I will only hurt the man I love and tear his family apart." Sunny glanced at her brother, her expression emotionless, shocked, and asked, "Did you make arrangements to meet Eileen?"
He longed to comfort her, to tell her how wrong he'd been, but such a move would only delay the inevitable. The kindest thing he could do was take her away and allow her the time to heal, because he knew she would never forget. "I will leave soon. I have a two-hour ride to the Hobbs ranch, then I told Eileen I'd meet her at a nearby creek. If you're ready to leave now, you can stay up here while I go collect Whiskey and Paddy from the pasture."
"No. I need more time."
"I don't have more time. Once Eileen leaves that house, she will be alone and defenseless. I have to be there for her. I promised I would be."
"I know, and I do not mean to add more danger to your plans, but I must have more time. I must say goodbye to Cole."In my own way, in my own good time. She straightened her shoulders and held her head high. "Is there some place I might meet you two?"
Sean thought of arguing, of convincing her to leave with him now, but knew it would do no good. She had to follow her heart as he did. Shrugging, he plucked at the straw. "Do you know where the road from here forks just outside of Phoenix?" At her enthusiastic nod, he explained, "The road is thick with trees and shrubs, and has plenty of cover for you to hide in the darkness. If you leave two hours before dawn, you will have more than enough time to meet us."
"Yes, I know I can make it. I will be there."
"Sunny ..." Sean hesitated, taking her hand in his before he could continue. "I have to make sure you understand the risk to both Eileen and myself if we wait for you. If you aren't at the fork by dawn, we'll have no choice but to move on without you."
"I do understand, my brother." And, also recognizing that he needed reassurance more than she did, she smiled and promised, "Do not worry about me. When dawn unveils her first ribbons of light, you will see the happy face of your sister and all of her tears will have been shed."
Grateful for her insight, her willingness to put her own hurt aside and free him to go to Eileen, Sean leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "This Cole Fremont is the foolish one, not you, little one."
The corners of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. "I intend to make sure he knows that, too, before I leave this ranch."
&n
bsp; With a hoarse chuckle, Sean unfolded his legs and stood up. "It's time I got moving. What will you carry as a weapon?"
"Those I brought with me. Pop's hunting knife is with Mike's clothes in my bedroom, but Grandfather's war club is in Nathan Fremont's study. I will have to sneak in there and get it."
Sean disappeared into the shadows and collected his belongings, then returned and searched through the hay for his discarded pistol. "What about a gun? Maybe I should leave this with you."
Sunny glanced at the pistol he offered, then shivered as the terrible memories flooded her; her near assault on Cole, the vicious stranger and his unholy plans for her, and the subsequent murder of the disgusting man by her own hand. She violently shook her head. "I have no use for a gun. Please take it with you."
"You're sure?"
"I am positive."
Bending down, Sean stroked Sunny's brow. "I'll see you at dawn. Take care."
She blew him a kiss, and whispered to his retreating figure, "You too, my brother. May the seven saints of Ireland protect and guide you."
Sean had to swallow a chuckle at her final words as he backed down the ladder and realized she had offered the same blessing Patrick had bestowed on him as he had left Yuma. That had only been a few weeks ago, and yet it somehow seemed much longer, years longer, at times. How many more days, or weeks, before the Callahan family was finally united again, finally able to grieve together over the loss of their loved ones?
When Sean reached the main part of the barn, he flattened himself against the wall and listened. All was quiet. With the exception of a few inviting aromas lingering from the roast pig and beef, most signs of the party had been removed. Making his way to the doors, he pushed them open a crack and peered out. He must leave the ranch undetected, without suspicion. The longer his disappearance went unnoticed, the longer it would be before anyone thought to connect it to Eileen's departure from her father's home.
From his vantage point, he could see the last of the guests had pulled out of the yard, and could hear the rumble of wagon wheels creaking down the path in the opposite direction he was headed. Looking up toward the house, he noticed most of the lights were blazing as the occupants prepared for their well-deserved rest. Satisfied the grounds were deserted, Sean slipped out of the barn and took full advantage of his Quechan blood to help him move silently out to the pasture where Whiskey stood grazing in the darkness.
After saddling the mule and fastening his belongings with a length of rawhide, Sean quietly led the animal out of the corral and through a wind-break of palo verde trees. Once hidden behind this stand of trees, he mounted Whiskey and rode to the north.
He arrived at the creek near the Hobbs ranch less than two hours later. After tying the mule, then resting by the water for an additional forty-five minutes, Sean grew impatient and worried. He crept panther-like through the cactus and shrubs until he came to the base of a thick, gnarled willow tree. Hidden from the home's occupants,
Sean was able to squat down and observe the house, and hopefully Eileen's expected departure from it.
Only one small light flickered in the window, suggesting that most of the family had retired for the night. Who was still up, and why?
The answer to that question exploded through the front door a few minutes later with a scream that shattered spring's promise of tranquility. The figure was Eileen, and she ran on a reckless path toward the willow tree.
Sean tucked his long body into a crouch and braced himself to spring to her aid. He lunged, one hand sliding across her mouth and the other around her waist as she raced blindly past him.
"Eileen, be quiet, it's Sean," he urged in a frantic whisper as he gathered her close. When her struggles ceased, he pulled her around behind the tree and pushed her to the ground.
"Easy, honey. It's all right," he comforted as he slowly lifted his hand from her trembling lips. "You're safe now."
"Oh," she muttered into his chest, "thank God you were here. I don't think I could have made it to the creek."
"Hush now. Don't think about what's happened. We have to get out of here before they come after you." Sean's thoughts snagged in his throat when he realized his hand was wet and sticky with her blood. "You're hurt. Where are you bleeding?"
"It's all right." Eileen brought her fingers to her swollen lip and pressed them against the torn flesh. "Pa didn't think I tried hard enough to get Cole's attention at the party. He said I was worthless and probably already spoilt, too. When he came after me, asking shameful questions and pounding me with his fists, I just couldn't take no more. After he popped me one in the mouth, I busted his head with Ma's frying pan. Oh, Sean," Eileen said in a soft whimper, "what if I killed him?"
"Hush, hush," he crooned, swallowing his anger for now. "I'll never let them find you. Don't worry, honey. Don't worry." Sean began to rock her, but tensed and froze his movements as he caught sight of a shadowy figure creeping through the trees. He was just about to release her and caution her to stay down, when the figure called out Eileen's name in a soft, feminine voice.
"Eileen, baby, where are you?"
"That's Ma," Eileen whispered against his ear. Her mother called again, this time with a note of panic in her voice. "I got to answer her, Sean. She won't tell on me."
But he wasn't so sure. "What if what you said is true and your pa is dead?"
"Who would she tell it to out here?"
Shrugging, Sean reluctantly gestured for her to go ahead.
When her mother had moved close enough for Eileen to be certain she was alone, she whispered, "Ma. Over here."
"Baby? Is that you? Where are ya?"
"Quiet, Ma. I'm over here."
Martha took a few more steps, ducked under a tree limb, and nearly stumbled over her.
"Quick, sit down, Ma."
Hidden from view by the base of the huge tree, but only inches from Eileen, Sean listened as she questioned her mother.
"How's Pa? Is he hurt bad? I didn't kill him, did I?"
"No, child, he ain't dead, but when he comes to, I bet he's gonna wish he was. You raised some kinda mountain on the side of his thick head."
"I'm sorry, Ma, but I just couldn't take it no more."
"I know, baby, I know. That's why I come out here. I think you'd best leave. No telling what he'll do when he wakes up and is feeling better. You'd best go."
Which is exactly what she planned to do, but why did the idea hurt so much coming from her own mother? "What have I done wrong, Ma?" Eileen cried in a strangled whisper. "Why do I have to go?"
"Cause he's gonna be in a heap of misery when that head starts to thumping and cause when he's able, I believe he plans to find out if you been ruint by one a these farm boys." Her shoulders and spirits sagged as she added in a desperate sigh, "Cause I believe one day soon he figures on liftin' your skirts and findin' out for himself, baby."
"Ma?" The word, the thought nearly strangled her. "How could he, how can he be so mean to me, his only girl?"
Martha's head drooped lower.
"Ma? Please, tell me. Why does Pa hate me so?"
Her mother's head drooped lower still, but this time she muttered a barely audible answer. "Cause a something I should a told you a long time ago, baby. Something your Pa and I thought he could handle, but I was wrong. He was wrong."
"What?" Then louder, almost frantically, Eileen cried, "What?"
"Honey." Martha finally raised her head and cupped her daughter's distraught face between her hands. "Dan'l Hobbs ain't your pa."
Eileen's eyebrows sprang upward and disappeared beneath her wispy bangs as she blurted out, "What?"
"I know it's a shock, but I thought it best you didn't know till now, and your pa—Dan'l," she corrected, "was so good to me, made an honorable woman of me you might say when he knew the trouble I was in, I went along with the secret."
A burst of nearly hysterical laughter obliterated the rest of Martha's sentence, and it took a minute before Eileen realized it came from her. She
had the oddest sensations swirling inside her; relief, anger, happiness, surprise, and even joy. But where was the sadness, the sense of loss and humiliation she ought to have upon learning she was illegitimate?
"Eileen? Honey? Please don't be angry with me. I done the best I could to raise you, to keep you out of Dan'l's way and not let him get too upset with you."
Eileen's laughter subsided, and she looked into her mother's tired eyes. Seeing Martha as a woman for the first time in her life, she kept her voice soft and low, non-judgmental, and said, "It's all right, Ma. It explains a lot, makes me feel better about myself in a strange sort of way. I do have a question, though. Would you please tell me who my pa is?"
Again dropping her gaze to the ground, Martha lifted her bony shoulders and began to fidget with the hem of her dress as if she were a shy school girl. "He was a mighty fancy man," she finally said in a tiny, bashful voice. "Name was Scotty. He come from Tombstone."
"Just Scotty?"
Martha nodded. "I guess so. Never knew if that was his first or last name, or if he were called that because he come over from Scotland. Everyone just called him Scotty." She raised her hand and lifted a length of Eileen's hair. "His hair was even redder than yours, and his eyes were the color of the prettiest blue sky you'd ever want to see."
A lump swelled in Eileen's throat while she watched her mother's features soften and brighten as she drifted in a sea of memories. But time was short, so she cut into her thoughts. "What happened to him, Ma?"
"Huh?" Martha looked startled as reality dissolved her pleasure. "Oh, um, I don't know. He was a gambling man. Moved on to the next town, the next girl, I s'pose."
Although she hated to see pain intrude on her mother's pleasant thoughts, Eileen had to know one more thing before she could leave. "Did you tell him about me?"
