The Homecoming

by Raine Cantrell

  Whoever had made the path had angled the opening in the brush so he could look out without being seen.

  There were three of them. But when the lead rider pushed his hat back. Matt had eyes for no one else. He almost fired. One bullet would end a lot of misery for a good number of folks.

  Royce Claiborne. Matt burned with impotent rage.

  What the hell did he want with Laine?

  And where the devil was she?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Matt was about to step out, and the hell with the consequences, when Laine appeared in the doorway. She held a broom and looked strangely calm.

  “It’s good to see you again, Laine.” Royce touched the brim of his flat-style planter’s hat.

  “It’s still Miz Ellis to you.”

  “Do you always wear a gun to sweep your home?”

  “Not that it’s your business, but I always wear it. Lot’s of polecats running around.” She met his appraising pale blue eyes with a direct gaze, hoping she gave nothing away of her turmoil. He had always been a heavily built man, but excess flesh showed above his tight white collar, puffiness around his eyes, and sheer bulk under his black frock coat. With his blond collar-length hair, most women thought him most handsome. Laine never had. She noticed the bump on his nose, where Matt had broke it, was more prominent.

  “Tell her why we’re here, Mr. Claiborne.”

  Laine had avoided looking at Hartly Oakes. And the third man, Amos Peese, had led the rabble at Matt’s.

  “What did you do? Have him follow me? Spy on me?”

  “Laine, you haven’t lost that suspicious turn of mind. We have county maps. Every owned parcel is clearly marked. They tell me Matt Coltrane is back. Know where he is?”

  His oily, coaxing voice sent a chill down her spine. She shot a glaring look at Hartly. He must have told Royce he had seen them at the mercantile.

  She shook her head when Royce repeated his question, not trusting herself to speak.

  “He’s a wanted man. I always knew he’d come to no good. I’d hate to see you tarred with the same brush. Personally, I don’t understand why he came back. There is nothing here for him.”

  And in that moment Laine knew that Royce was the one responsible for the vicious destruction of Matt’s home. There was warning and gloating satisfaction in his tone and eyes. Fear lanced her. Did he know she had been there?

  “I’ve been as polite as can be while you said your piece. You’re done, so leave.”

  “I’m helping the newly appointed tax assayer. And these gentlemen are assisting me. Too many traitors hiding in the swamps hereabout. And so many properties need reassessment. Like yours. There are some things a man needs to see for himself before he puts a price on them.”

  The broom offered her something solid to clutch, and Laine gripped it hard. Reassessment meant more taxes. He leaned forward, resting one arm on the saddle horn.

  “You might not understand that your father bought a parcel of thicket and water. The taxes were based on that. But this is cleared with a fine cabin built. The lake offers good fishing. There’s timber and hunting in the thicket, waterways to the bayou, the swamp, and the river. Fine location, mighty fine hundred acre parcel. An enterprising man …”

  Lane sneered, “Like yourself?”

  Royce smiled, revealing two chipped teeth, courtesy of Matt’s fist. “Some would say so. As I was saying …”

  “I’ve heard enough. Name your new taxes and get out.”

  To her horror, he started to dismount.

  “No!” The gun was in her hand without thought. “Stay right where you are.”

  He settled back in the saddle, having no inkling of how close to death he had come, for Matt was tracking his every move with his carbine. He just wished Laine would move.

  “Living alone has made you downright unsociable. Things could be different. You could live in town. Wear pretty clothes. Have a servant or two. It truly saddens me to see you in these reduced circumstances. We could come to an accommodation.”

  Laine drew herself up, rigid with insult. “The only way I’d strike a bargain with the likes of you is with a gun in one hand and buggy whip in the other.”

  She closed out the sound of his laughter. Remember, if they think of you as prey, they’ll rip you apart. No show of weakness.

  “I have work to do. Tell me how much the new taxes will be, then go. I’ll come in to Cedar Bend to pay them. At the bank. With witnesses.”

  The flat line of Royce’s mouth and the banked fury in his eyes warned that she had said enough.

  “One hundred dollars. And no Confederate dixies. Yankee greenbacks or gold.”

  “She’s got gold,” Hartly blurted. “I saw her with my own eyes paying at the mercantile.”

  Royce’s gaze turned speculative while Laine contemplated shooting them. She could dump the bodies in the bayou where the ’gators sunned themselves. No one would find them. Two things stopped her. Matt would come running, and so would her brother and sister. And she didn’t know if other men waited beyond the path. Shots carried far.

  “For the last time, I’ve heard you out. I’ll come to town. As for you, Hartly, stop swiveling your head. We both know what you’re looking for. And I warned you once about my sister. Take yourself out of here. I can’t abide the stench.”

  It was the hardest move she had ever made to turn her back in dismissal and walk inside, where she carefully closed the door. The gun clattered to the floor as she collapsed in a shaking huddle.

  The men lingered a few minutes more, then turned and rode out.

  Matt barely waited for the last horse’s rump to disappear before running to the cabin.

  Laine was on her knees, arms wrapped around her waist, tears streaming from her eyes, wrenching sobs coming from deep inside her as she rocked back and forth.

  His carbine joined her gun and broom on the floor. He was down in front of her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

  “It’ll be all right. I have some money. We’ll pay their damn taxes. You don’t need to worry or cry.”

  She shook her head, trembling, crying harder. The senseless sobs and sounds had him cup the back of her head and pull her to his shoulder. He had to let her cry this out. Silently cursing that he hadn’t shot Royce before he opened his filthy mouth did little to relieve the rage churning through him.

  Matt heard Rachel and Tater coming. He closed his eyes briefly. He’d been on his own and now had people he cared about crowding him, demanding attention, when all he wanted right now was to take care of Laine.

  Without releasing his hold on her, he turned his head to look at them. Their solemn expressions and worried eyes touched him to the quick.

  “I saw ’em. Heard ’em, too. Why didn’t you shoot ’em? I would’ve shot ’em, Matt.”

  “When a man picks up a gun he accepts the responsibility that goes with it. Your sister was standing in front of them. I couldn’t risk her life. Or yours.” He should’ve known that Tater wouldn’t stay put.

  “What can we do to help?” Rachel asked, pressing her hand on her brother’s shoulder.

  Laine was still sobbing. Her hands, two fists, pressed hard into his chest.

  “Your sister needs some time. Tater, go unsaddle Blueboy and picket him. Bring in the other stock to the lean-to and feed them.”

  “You’re gonna stay?”

  “I’m staying.”

  “That’s good, Matt. Good for Laine, too.”

  “Rachel, could you make her one of your tisanes. Put in plenty of honey. She’s had a shock.”

  It was the work of a few minutes to do as Matt asked. She set the mug on the table. “I’ll get her sheets from the line and make up her bed.”

  “Laine. Laine, love, you need to stop. You’ll make yourself sick.”

  She was snug in the cradle of his thighs, her upper body nestled like a child seeking shelter. He stroked her hair and back,
offering what comfort he could with soft, meaningless murmurs. In his mind, he saw himself riding after them, delivering the ultimate punishment for what they had done to her.

  Her sobs lessened, but she still trembled and cried.

  Matt hated seeing her spirit broken like this. When he reached for the mug that Rachel had left, Laine clutched him.

  “Easy, love. I’m not going anywhere. I want you to try and sip this.”

  With his free hand he tilted her chin up. She was rubbing her sleeve over her face, scrubbing away her tears. But he waited patiently, until she couldn’t avoid his eyes.

  The compassion in his hazel eyes made tears flow yet again. He didn’t know, must not know what had happened.

  Matt’s breath came in hard and stayed until it ached. His lovely Laine no longer looked the same. Her skin was pale, anguish lined her face, stole the life from her eyes.

  He would give everything he owned to see those smoked crystal eyes brimming with fire, not bruised with tears, to see her mouth trembling with passion, not vulnerability, hear sass and laughter, not throttled sobs. He might as well wish he could pluck the moon from the sky.

  But for Laine he’d try. He’d damn well try.

  “Sip a little, Laine. This will help.”

  “S-stay.”

  “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

  It hurt him to hear her hoarse voice. It was as if she had been screaming for hours. That puzzled him, but he wasn’t about to start questioning her. Her dense lashes, glistening with tears, fluttered as she drank from the mug he held to her lips. Her body still shook with tremors.

  The hate he felt expanded to murderous rage to view his brave, strong woman brought so low.

  She turned aside. Matt didn’t try to force her. He took the mug away. He set it on the table and made a move to rise. Laine grabbed hold of his arm.

  “Laine, stop. It’s all right. I want to help you to stand. I promise you, I am staying.”

  She nodded, longing to ask him for how long.

  Rachel came in. “Her bed is made. I can help her now.”

  “No.” Before either sister knew what he was about, he swung Laine up into his arms. She curled into him as if she belonged there.

  Laine started to speak, then closed her mouth. She lost her breath at the tenderness of Matt’s smile. She was so afraid she’d give away the turmoil of her mind. Matt was too close. And so gentle as he carried her.

  He sat on the side of the bed with Laine cradled on his lap.

  Laine wrapped her arms around him. The tears stopped. The trembling slowed as she stopped thinking. She was simply overwhelmed. She didn’t release or ease her grip on him. Holding onto Matt was not only physically reassuring, but to her, it was a way to keep him safe.

  With Matt’s solid strength surrounding her, his steady heartbeats, the slow, even breaths, and his soft murmurs a soothing lullabye, Laine felt the turmoil and tension drain from her.

  She had his promise to stay. She held that tight as her security and let everything else go.

  Matt felt Laine fall asleep long before he eased her on the bed. He kissed her forehead, her damp lashes and stole her breath for a moment when he touched his lips to hers. Gently tucking the quilt around her, he rose.

  The shadowed light in the doorway made him realize how dark it was.

  “Matt?” came Rachel’s whisper.

  “Hush.” He walked quickly to her side. “She’s finally sleeping. Leave the lantern. I don’t want her to wake in the dark.”

  “Go sit. There’s hot vegetable soup.”

  Tater sat on the bench, helping himself to the soup. As Matt sat down in one chair, Rachel took the other. Tater filled a bowl for him. “I’m having seconds. This is real good. She put rice and beans in with all the garden stuff.”

  Matt smiled at the boy and took a deep breath. “Smells delicious.” While he ate, he kept an eye on Rachel. She appeared pensive.

  “Matt,” she started, “You must convince Laine it’s more than time for us to leave here. We can’t live like this, jumping at shadows that are all too real. Tater told me he overheard what Royce Claiborne said to her.”

  “You don’t need to worry about him, Rachel. That’s a personal matter I will tend to.”

  “But I do worry. One way or another, him or men like him will drive us from our home. You know that’s true. If we left now, we can salvage something for a new start.”

  “You’ve given this some thought.”

  “I have thought of nothing else since … well, for almost a year now.”

  Matt kept his eyes on the soup in his bowl. He wasn’t so tired he couldn’t take Rachel’s hesitation, Laine’s earlier words to Hartly, and his own observation when he first arrived. That bastard had done something to her. Another score to personally settle.

  Matt pushed his bowl in and stood from the table. “I’m going to scout around. I’ll sleep in the clearing. But I’ll be on watch through the night. Don’t worry.”

  Rachel busied herself cleaning up the table. “As long as you’re here, I won’t. But if Laine won’t leave, what happens when you go?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rachel’s question lingered and haunted Matt.

  He had no answer.

  This was the third circuit he’d made, varying his route each time. There appeared no signs that anyone was on the immediate property. He had left his bedroll spread out and welcomed the thought of resting for a few hours.

  A balmy pine-scented breeze blew under an inky sky brilliant with stars. The full moon glowed like a pearl. Far off in the bayou a bull ’gator roared and the distant cry of a loon floated in the night with cricket chirps and bullfrog croaks. All familiar sounds. As Matt came up the path near the lake, a splash made him freeze. He almost laughed at how jumpy he was. A fish, most likely, nothing more.

  His moccasins made no noise as he walked the path to the small clearing. Matt stopped dead at the sight that met his eyes.

  “Laine?”

  She spun around and ran to him, barefoot, her white nightgown flaring, her long hair streaming behind her.

  He lost his breath at the graceful beauty holding her arms out to him.

  Laine faltered the last few steps when he made no move forward, no attempt to touch her, to hold her.

  Matt swallowed. Hard. He couldn’t avoid seeing the slim, womanly form revealed by the moonlight piercing the sheer cloth.

  “What are you doing here?” Harsh, edged with anger, he didn’t know how forbidding he sounded.

  “I … I woke and y-you weren’t there. Y’you promised you’d stay. I was a-afraid you had gone.” She folded her arms across her chest, wishing she could hide.

  “Laine, I promised. I never break a promise. I’m sorry you were afraid. I’ll walk you back.”

  All he had to do was turn around and walk to the cabin. If he didn’t, he would bury his hands in the shimmering glory of her hair and unleash the hunger that had burned so deep for far too long.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t g-go back.”

  “You damn well will go.” He hated that she started to step back away from him. “You’re going if I have to carry you.”

  “You’d need to touch me, Matt. You don’t seem to want that.”

  “Want? You can’t know what I want. And you don’t know what you’re doing. You had a shock. You’re not thinking clearly. Not thinking at all.”

  The breeze playfully teased the loose fabric of her nightgown, revealing, then concealing the length of her shapely legs. Matt refused to raise his eyes higher. This was torment enough for any man.

  “You are so wrong about me, Matt. I know exactly what I am doing. I wanted comfort from a man I care about. I wanted him to hold me so I won’t feel so alone.”

  “Laine, I’m not good enough for you.”

&
nbsp; “Who said that? Who dared say such a thing?”

  Her impassioned demand brought his gaze up to hers. “I say it,” he admitted in a bleak voice.

  “You?” She didn’t understand. “Why? You can’t believe that? You just can’t.” But even as she denied it, she knew it must be true. So much was explained by his admission.

  “I do. I always have.”

  “No.” She shook her head until the rippling waist length hair flew about her upper body. She pushed it away from her face. “Matt,” she implored, “I have never thought that. Never said those words. You are good, kind and gentle. You make me laugh and you’re strong and smart. You never make me afraid of speaking my mind. You aren’t cruel.” And you’re handsome enough to steal my breath.

  “You also called me a dog-eared mule,” he pointed out.

  “You sure are that, too. But then, so am I. I’m also independent, but not so much that I can’t say I need you to hold me.”

  Moonlight lovingly molded his masculine features, but the angle of his head made it difficult to see his eyes. He stood tall, bareheaded, wide shouldered, and all of a man that a woman could want.

  “Don’t you ever feel the need to be held? Don’t you get lonely, Matt? Do you think I’m … I’m wanton for wanting that?”

  “Never. But you’re killing me, Laine.”

  His knuckles showed white gripping the carbine. He didn’t dare let the weapon go. But he had told her the truth. She was killing his determination with every second that he denied her. That he denied himself.

  Laine knew she had to leave. The day’s emotional toll carried a high price. Matt’s rejection was not to be borne. This would break her. Struggling not show her hurt, she forced herself to walk when the urge was so strong to just run.

  “You’re right. I’m wrong. I’ll go.”

  She was almost abreast of him when she heard the soft whisper of her name. How could he put such longing into her name?

  “I don’t want to be right, Laine.”