“Justice be hanged! Hey, Injun! You see this here hurt arm of my wife’s?” He reached out and took Meg’s injured arm in a cruel grip that sent her to her knees and elicited a piercing scream. “It’s your fault.”
Gripping his rifle until his knuckles grew white, Colt fought the growing urge to shoot Elton himself. When Ace took a step forward, Colt reached out and stopped him with a warning shake of his head. “He’s got the gun aimed right at her head.”
Ace nodded, challenging Elton instead. “How do you figure that?”
“She says you been bringin’ her food and such.”
“She and the children need to eat.”
“I reckon that’s true, but I been wonderin’ how she’s paying you.” His insinuation was obvious.
Ace shot Colt a dark look that said without words he’d reached the end of his patience, which Colt knew was not inconsiderable. He heard his friend push a low hissing breath through his teeth, and in one smooth motion, he lifted his rifle to his shoulder and fired a single shot into the porch boards near Thomerson’s feet. There was no doubt he could have hit him if he’d wanted.
Jumping back and letting loose a string of curses worthy of the saltiest sailor, Elton grabbed Meg by her good arm, hauled her to her feet and pulled her back inside. Just before he slammed the door shut, he screamed, “You’ll pay for that, Injun.”
After Colt shot Ace a disgruntled look, they settled down to wait.
Every half hour or so, they repeated their calls for Elton and Joe to come out. Colt knew they were playing a waiting game. There was a chance that one of them would pass by a window, making a target of themselves. The only thing wrong with that was that Meg and the kids, an eight-month-old baby girl and a three-year-old boy, were somewhere inside. Colt had no way of knowing where, and there was a chance they could be hit by the bullet.
Fury radiated off Ace. Colt halfway expected him to rush into the house to try to save Meg and the kids, and get killed in the process. Having been the recipient of several beatings in prison, his friend didn’t much like the notion of a man abusing women and children.
To distract Ace from his anger, Colt told both men he figured that Elton was biding his time for the sun to go down so he and Joseph could make a run for it. He couldn’t leave now because his horses were in plain sight, and if he or Joseph came to fetch them, they’d have a bull’s-eye on their backs.
Darkness was still a while away, but Colt figured they needed to have a plan and be in place long before then so that they could keep an eye on all the exits. He told Ace to circle through the woods on one side of the house and Dan to do the same on the other. Both men slipped through the trees. It always amazed Colt that as big as Dan was, he could move like a ghost when he needed to. With both his helpers on their way to new positions, Colt settled down for another wait.
Even though he knew he needed to stay sharp and focused, his sleepless night plus the heat and boredom of waiting lulled him into a state of lethargy, and he found his mind wandering back to his kids and Allison. There hadn’t been time to ask her to look after Brady and Cilla while he was gone, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would do just that.
He wondered if she’d noticed that he’d gone to church and if she’d slept the night before or lain awake and thought about the things they’d said. Did she regret her answer as much as he did? He knew she might regret it, but he doubted that she’d change her mind.
God was important to her, a huge reason she was the incredible woman she was. He wouldn’t have her any other way. The question was, would she have him if she believed he truly wanted to be that man?
Could he be that man?
Please, God... He wasn’t even aware that a prayer was taking shape in his mind. He wanted her in his life. Wanted her as a mother for his children, both the ones he had and the ones he wanted to have with her. He wanted to come in at night and find her doing things around the house. Wanted to play croquet with her and maybe even start reading with her in the cold winter evenings. He wanted to cuddle with her as they fell asleep in each other’s arms and wake up next to her warmth every morning.
That thought brought him around to the still-unanswered question of why she refused to believe that he loved her. A memory of the day they’d had breakfast at Ellie’s flitted through his mind. That was the day he’d discovered her hidden insecurities. Was it possible that she’d convinced herself he couldn’t love her for the same reasons he’d used to try to convince himself that she was not his type? Thank goodness he’d figured out that nothing was further from the truth! It might have taken him a couple of weeks to realize it, but she was exactly what he’d been looking for. Exactly what he needed.
Colt waved away a couple of mosquitoes. In fact, he thought, she was downright adorable. He loved her fiery hair and her freckles. And, when she didn’t wear all the flounces and gathers and ruffles, she didn’t look the least bit plump. The word to describe her, he’d long realized, was curvy.
If there was anything that might put men off, it was her intelligence, her shyness and the wall she’d put up between herself and the male populace to protect her heart: the persona adopted by the strict no-nonsense Miss Grainger. A bit haughty. Composed. Unflappable. All the things he knew she had to be to be a good teacher. More than that, she was good and kind and...
He jerked aside and smacked his neck, hoping to foil a couple of bloodsucking mosquitoes that had decided it was supper time and he was the main course. At the same time he bobbed to the side, several things happened. He seemed to register them in slow motion.
There was an earsplitting crack quickly followed by another. A sharp cry. The sensation of something whizzing by his head. Wood chips spewing over him. A crashing sound. He realized in a split second that someone had taken a shot at him and dived onto his belly in an instinctive gesture.
As he lay there panting for breath, he heard another two shots from the other side of the house. The thought of what had happened slammed into him. Someone had tried to kill him. Thomerson or Jones? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Dan and Ace were battling it out with the two outlaws and needed his help.
Thanking God for mosquitoes, he rose to his knees and pivoted slowly, resting his Winchester on top of the log and scanning the area in front of him. All was silent. The shot that had almost ended his life had come from his right. So had the crash. Had Ace wounded the shooter? A couple of rounds had been fired in Dan’s vicinity, too. Had he gotten his man?
Without warning, Colt felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head to the right and saw Ace squatting behind him. How did he do that? Colt wondered as relief washed through him.
“Thomerson is dead.”
Colt nodded, taking in the implications of the grim pronouncement. A plethora of emotions assaulted him. Stark terror at the knowledge that things could have ended differently. Gratitude. Joy at being alive to go home and take care of his kids. And at being given a second chance. He’d almost been killed. Mosquitoes and Ace had saved him.
It was almost too much to deal with, so Colt focused on his job. “What happened?”
The expression on Ace’s face could only be described as “bleak.” His voice matched. “Thomerson must have gone far enough around me from behind that I didn’t see or hear him. He didn’t see me, either. Thank God I did see the movement to my left when he stood up and took a bead on you.”
“Yeah,” Colt murmured. “Thank God. Do you think Dan got Joseph?”
“My guess would be yes,” Ace said. “We need to go inside and see about Meg and the children.”
“Not until I know Jones is out of the picture.”
About that time, they heard the crashing of brush as two people entered the clearing from the woods to the left. Joseph Jones, his hands tied together in the back, walked in front of Dan, who was prodding him with his rifle. B
lood seeped from a wound in the outlaw’s side.
Colt heaved a sigh of relief and pushed unsteadily to his feet. He met Ace’s dark gaze. “Thanks.”
Ace offered one of his rare, quicksilver smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”
Colt clasped Ace’s shoulder. “Let’s go see about Meg and the kids.”
Chapter Thirteen
Allison stared down at the piece of paper Cilla had handed her. It took mere seconds to scan the page. What she saw sent her heart plunging right down to her toes.
PROSPECTIVE BRIDES
She pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold back a sob, but she couldn’t hold back the tears that filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
Colt had made a list of eligible women. Her name was at the bottom.
“What’s the matter, Miss Grainger?” Cilla asked with genuine concern.
Instead of answering, Allison asked in a trembling voice, “Where did you get this, Cilla?”
The child’s eyes held an expression of bewilderment, as if she had no idea what the problem was.
“Brady and I found it when we were looking for some paper to leave Pa a note on. I thought it would make you happy that he put you on his list. It shows he was interested in you for a while. Maybe even before we started spending so much time with you.”
Oh, he put me on the list, all right, Allison thought. The last name on the blasted list! As an afterthought. She scanned the names once more. Interested in her? Hardly. Even though he had crossed out the other names, her name was even below Gracie’s. Not that Gracie wasn’t perfectly wonderful. It was just...hard to be pleased when one attained success by default. Another thought struck her. Had Colt crossed out the names, or had Cilla and Brady done it in an attempt to make her feel better?
She jumped to her feet and began to pace, something she did when she was upset or thinking something through. She was both. And fast becoming angry.
What kind of man made a list of credentials when he was looking for a wife? What kind of man was so choosy he recorded a woman’s good and bad points? What kind of man had certain conditions a potential candidate must meet before she would even be considered?
The answer to her question came to her quietly and squelched her irritation.
A man who had loved his wife and probably always would. A man who was perhaps looking for a helpmeet, but not love, at least not the kind of love Allison wanted. To her, those two went hand in hand.
“Miss Grainger?”
The sound of Cilla’s voice roused Allison from her thoughts. “Yes?”
“Why aren’t you happy?”
The child’s disappointment would have to be addressed. Allison folded the paper. She didn’t have the heart to ask if the young woman had scratched off the other names. “May I keep this?”
Cilla nodded, and Allison stuffed the square into the pocket of her skirt. She squatted in front of the young girl’s chair and took both her hands. “I’m unhappy because no one makes a list to find someone to marry. And you don’t write down their good and bad points and mark them off as if it were a chore you’ve finished.”
She sighed.
“It’s true that people get married for many reasons, and often love has no place in their decision, but for me, love and respect and putting one another’s happiness before your own is important for a marriage to succeed.”
“Pa says everyone has problems.”
“That’s true, and maybe I’m romantic and idealistic, but it’s how I feel. We know that your father didn’t love any of these women. He’s just written down the names of the single ladies in town, most of whom he’s courted for a while and then moved on.”
Cilla had the grace to look embarrassed. Both she and Allison knew the reasons some of those fledgling relationships hadn’t lasted long.
“Pa says that’s what courting is all about,” Cilla said, leaning toward Allison, the expression in her eyes begging her to understand. “He says a man considers the single ladies and decides which one he likes, and then he courts her to see if they have common interests and if they’re compatible and love could grow in time.”
There was no way Allison could argue with that reasoning. She gave Cilla’s hands a squeeze. “That’s true, but that doesn’t change our situation. He hasn’t courted me, and prior to us being thrown together to help you and Brady, he didn’t even know I existed.”
And it hurts to be last on the list.
“I think it’s best for everyone if we just leave things as they are. He will find someone one day who will love you all and be exactly what you need.”
“But we want you, Miss Grainger,” Cilla said, as tears pooled in her blue eyes. “We all want you.”
Unable to speak for the tears clogging her own throat, Allison pulled Cilla into a close embrace. She wanted them, too. Badly.
“I know, Cilla, and I think that would be the most wonderful thing in the world, but sometimes we don’t get what we want, and sometimes that turns out to be the best thing after all.”
* * *
After their talk, Allison and Cilla took the checkers outside and played to fill the silence growing between them and avoid the heat of the house. The good news was that clouds were beginning to move into the area. Maybe they’d bring some much-needed rain and cooler temperatures.
Brady woke and they snacked on cookies and lemonade. They spent the rest of the time until the evening church service with Cilla working on a new piece of embroidery and Brady and Allison working on his reading.
After church, Allison, who didn’t want to try to fill the silence between her and Colt’s disappointed children by herself, took them back to Ellie’s for a quick supper. It was beginning to look as if Colt might not make it back before bedtime, which meant the children would have to spend the night.
While Allison and Ellie cleaned up the kitchen, the kids drew pictures on brown paper. Brady had grown tired of his sister picking at him and had gone to the window to look out at the dark clouds blowing across the sky. “Pa’s back,” he yelled after a few moments.
Allison, who was drying her last pan, froze. She wanted to run to the window to see, but stubborn pride held her in place. Ellie smiled gently. “Go on and see if he’s okay. No sense worrying yourself sick.”
Without a word, Allison dropped her cloth and hurried to the upstairs window to see if the group of men who had gone in pursuit of the escaped prisoners was alive and well.
It was that rare few minutes when daylight seemed reluctant to give over to the encroaching darkness, and the fading light was soft as the world started settling down for the night. This evening was different, the gloom more intense. Thunder rumbled, and a sudden gust of wind sent dust devils twirling down the street.
Allison looked down. Colt, a child nestled in his arms, led the solemn procession. Allison sucked in a shocked breath and made a quick survey of the group, as Ellie joined her at the window. Meg’s son, Teddy, sat in front of Dan, clinging to the saddle horn for dear life. Ace held Meg against his chest. Her head lolled from side to side with each step the horse took. Allison sucked in a frightened breath, wondering what had happened to her and if she was badly hurt.
“Pa’s okay,” Brady said, looking up at Allison with a wide smile.
“Yes,” she said, her answering smile encompassing him and his sister. “It looks as if God answered our prayers, doesn’t it?”
“Is Miss Meg dead?” Brady blurted.
Allison looked at her sister.
“I don’t know, Brady. I hope not.” Ellie was often brutally honest.
“Me, too,” he said. “I like Miss Meg.”
“Everyone likes Miss Meg,” Cilla said.
“Is that Joseph Jones?” Ellie asked, indicating a fourth man who sat astride a horse Big Dan was leading.
“Do you think Elton is wounded or dead?”
“From the looks of things, I’d say dead.”
“Poor Meg,” Allison whispered. “How will she manage now?”
“Much better than she has with Elton whipping up on her whenever he took a notion,” Ellie said in a sharp tone. “She’ll be fine.” With that, she marched away from the window.
The line of horses wandered down the street. A flash of sheet lightning lit the gloom, quickly followed by a faraway rumble of thunder that brought Allison to her senses.
“Cilla, Brady, help Bethany pick up the mess, please. We’d better get home before the storm hits, or your father won’t know where to find you.”
“Do you think he’ll be there soon?”
“You and Cilla would know more about that than I do. I imagine he’ll have to see that his prisoners are secure and that Doc Rachel fixes up anyone who was hurt. I’m not sure how long that will take.”
“Long,” Cilla offered with weary resignation.
“Then I think the best thing to do is plan on the two of you staying at my house tonight. Cilla, you can sleep with me, and Brady you can have the sofa.”
They both nodded, and Ellie insisted that she and Bethany would clean up. After thanks and hugs all around, Allison and the kids ran down the stairs and across the street toward her house. Though they reached the front door in record time, they were pelted with fat drops of rain the last few yards.
They barreled into the small parlor, and Allison went to fetch a towel. When they’d blotted the dampness from their faces and arms, she said, “Let me find something for you to sleep in. I think I have some old shirtwaists that will do.”
Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) Page 20
