“See, he’s already threatening us,” David sneered.
“I was told a girl from the brothel was missing,” Colt argued, glaring at the crowd. He reached for Samuel’s bound wrists and began the task of unknotting the ropes. “How you gonna hang a man when there’s no body? That girl could’ve gotten sick of attending to your sorry needs and run off.”
Hedges nodded and backed away. “Man’s got a point.”
David smiled, a dark smile that Colt knew was worse than a grimace. That Boltin brother only smiled when he was about to do something nasty. “There was blood on the sheets and walls, and the gal’s private room was tossed. I say there was a struggle, and this here murderer killed the woman and buried her body somewhere. I’m sure we’ll find it soon.”
“When you do, then maybe you can accuse someone of murder, but until then, this man is innocent of any wrongdoing.” Colt worked the now loosened ropes around Samuel’s wrists to free him. “And I fail to understand why a man would kill a woman, drag her body from a busy brothel, bury her, and then return to the scene of the crime.”
“You’re releasing a dangerous man. He could murder us all. Once a murderer, always a murderer. Right, Colt?” David’s words lashed at Colt.
No. He wouldn’t listen. Dinah had said people could change. He had changed.
“Do you remember what you did?” the Boltin brother said, continuing to taunt. “You remember how you killed people?”
“Shut up, Boltin. It was war, and it was a long time ago,” Colt ordered.
David knelt by his side and whispered harshly, “Not that long ago. Don’t you remember the screams, the blood, your hands ending that child’s life?”
From where he still sat on the ground, Samuel wriggled his wrists free and slammed his fist into David’s jaw, sending the man tumbling back to land sprawled in the dirt. Hedges laughed, as did Henry and a few others in the crowd.
Charles helped his brother up, and they stood side by side, their hands on their guns. Colt stood, reaching for his own gun, but to his relief, Sheriff Lambert rode up, pulling his horse to a stop next to the Boltins.
“What’s going on here? Someone said a mob was gonna lynch Samuel,” the sheriff said.
“We didn’t hang him. We just talked about the fact that he murdered a woman over at the brothel.”
“I didn’t,” Samuel protested, his voice still raspy.
Colt reached down and gave his friend a hand up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. His pain was nothing, though, compared to what could have happened to Samuel, had Colt not showed up when he did. “Sheriff, I know this man well. I’ve worked with him for years. He’s happily married, and I’ve never known him to visit the brothel. He’s completely devoted to his family, and he’s a God-fearing man.”
“I admit, I’ve never seen him come in before,” Pete said.
Sheriff Lambert eyed each of the Boltin brothers. “You two need to take your hands off your guns and take a step back, or you might end up with that rope around your necks.”
“That man murdered someone and you’re letting him go?” David said, but dropped his hand away from his gun.
“I am, and he didn’t.” Sheriff Lambert remained on his horse, hand on his own gun. Colt didn’t want to tell him that Charles was the fastest draw he’d ever seen. Too many witnesses, though, for Charles to take the risk. The Boltin brothers would have to kill the entire crowd, and that wasn’t likely before they were shot. David and Charles Boltin were many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. They tended to pick fights they could win.
“Fine, but when more girls turn up missing, you’ll be wishing you would’ve listened to us.” David walked to his horse, swung his leg over, and settled in the saddle. Charles mounted his horse, and the Boltin brothers rode off.
Colt blew out a sharp breath of relief. “Thanks, Sheriff,” he said, echoed by Samuel.
Sheriff Lambert shook his head. “I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you hadn’t arrived when you did, Colt Hardin. By the time I got here, Samuel would’ve been dead.” He hopped down from his horse and stood a few feet away. “What can you tell me about what happened?” he asked Samuel.
Samuel shared what he’d already told Colt, how he’d been tricked into walking to the back of a building, where someone hit him over the head. “When I came to, I had a rope around my neck, and those two brothers yelling that I had murdered some girl and that I should be lynched for such unspeakable crimes.”
Sheriff Lambert glanced at Hedges, Henry, Pete, Colt, and Samuel. “What do you know about those Boltin brothers? I only met them a month or so ago when they arrived in town.”
Colt jolted. “Have those two been here that long?” he asked. Could David and Charles have been the ones responsible for murdering and scalping Gabe? If so, why?
“Yeah, they’ve been around for a while. Ol’ McDaniel first reported seeing them.”
The McDaniels must’ve told the Boltin brothers where Colt’s homestead was, he realized. All along, he’d suspected it had been Andrew. Maybe he’d been too hard on the man after all. The back of his neck bristled. No, after what Andrew had said about Dinah, Colt hadn’t been too hard on him whatsoever.
“Those men aren’t the savory sort to have around. I knew them in the war. They love their whiskey, their gambling, and their women,” Colt said.
“I can confirm that. They’ve been hanging at the brothel every night since arrivin’,” Pete added. Then his face grew somber. “What did they mean about you killing people?” he asked Colt. “Killing children?”
Bile surged in Colt’s throat. Damn. He’d hoped none of the men gathered for the hanging had heard David’s cruel words. He grabbed the reins and wanted to strangle himself with them instead of facing the truth. He swallowed convulsively before saying, “I was ordered to do things during the war that I didn’t want to do. It was war. Indians were considered dangerous and aggressive at the time.”
“I see.” Sheriff Lambert shook his head. “Samuel, I would suggest you stay far away from those brothers. Why don’t you stay home with your family for a while?”
“Can’t. Gotta work.”
Colt let out a long breath. “Actually, you don’t. I’m afraid there won’t be any work to do. Andrew is leaving the company, and I no longer care to hunt or trap. I’ve seen too much of death.” When Samuel’s eyes filled with confusion, Colt quickly added, “Don’t worry. I’ll start another business soon, and you will be my main person. Better yet, if you want, the business is yours. I’ll draw up the papers.”
Samuel slapped him on the back. “You’re too generous. I don’t know nothin’ about runnin’ a business. Nah, I’ll jes’ tag along wherever you go. I’ve not been enjoying your job while you been down. I can understand you not wanting to kill things no more. You’ve changed, I can see by the look in your eyes. I don’t see you ever returning to your old ways of hiding out from the world.” He swallowed, and emotion suddenly charged his tone. “And as far as that nonsense about killin’ children, I don’t buy it. You wouldn’t do that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I have been a monster, but I never want to be that monster again. I never want to kill again,” Colt said, emphatically. “I’ll live on my farm in peace and quiet and raise my sister’s kids. I’m done with the lying and the cheating and the murdering.”
Sheriff Lambert turned his horse toward the city. “Yes, but is it done with you?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
After settling the kids into bed for the night, Colt brought an armload of firewood into the house and waited for Dinah to finish writing another letter to one of her sisters. It was time he told her the truth. He’d tried to tell her everything earlier when he shared what happened with Samuel, but he couldn’t manage to find the words. He couldn’t wait any longer, though.
He’d probably have to move back into the barn tonight, and for once, he didn’t want to live alone. He wasn’t ready for parties and such, the likes of which Dinah d
elighted in, but he enjoyed the quiet, simple life on the homestead, with the children and Dinah.
“You look more scared than James did on his first day of school,” Dinah said, giving him a reassuring smile.
“I think I’m more frightened than that.” He stacked another piece of firewood in the fireplace. “It’s getting cold at night. I should take you into town in a few days, so we can get some material for coats. You’ll need yarn for a hat and scarf.”
She settled on the sofa, patting the plump cushion next to her for him to sit. “Guess I’ll need to learn how to knit. I was never very good. Sewing, needlework, and knitting were more Cora and Josephine’s gifts.”
Still standing, Colt cleared his throat, but he couldn’t speak. The pain in his ribs he’d felt over the last several weeks was nothing compared to the pain in his heart right now.
“Colt, do you trust me?”
He looked at Dinah, at her sweet face, emerald eyes, pink lips. “Yes.”
“You said I wasn’t a weak little girl who didn’t understand the world. You said I was strong and handled myself well. I say it’s time for you to trust that I’ll handle learning whatever it is that you’re keeping trapped inside. You say that you’re worried you’ll have another outburst, that you’re worried about hurting one of us. Yet you keep what makes you angry and troubled inside, where it will only hurt you.” She held out her hand.
A moment passed, and then another, and finally he took her hand in his and sat by her side. His pulse raced from her touch, his gut twisted at the thought of her hearing his confession, but he dreamed of her accepting him…loving him.
“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he managed to get out, his throat thick. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“Go ahead.” Dinah sat straight, a blank look on her face, but she held tight to him as if to take his pain away. She was a good woman. The best.
“When I served in the Army, I had to fight against the Indians. It was bloody and disturbing. Not because of what the Indians did, which was bad enough, but what we did.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts and tried to breathe to keep himself calm. The last thing he wanted to do was to have an episode with her by his side. “We did things, under orders. As in most wars, there was a lot of killing, but it didn’t stop with guns and arrows. When the rumors of scalping started, the men in my company became frightened. They began to act out when we raided villages.”
The image of that day, the one that changed him forever, flashed through his mind, and he shuddered at the memory.
Dinah tightened her grip. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Colt fed off her calming touch. “I’ve never told anyone about this. The only ones who know of that horrible day, who are still alive, are Andrew Sanbourn—we were in the same company—and the Boltin brothers.”
“The brothers who tried to hang Samuel today?”
“The very same.” Colt took another deep breath. “There was a day when we lost men. Not just a few, but a lot of men. It was gruesome and terrible. Andrew had become our commanding officer, and a few months prior, I’d noticed that he started doing things that seemed strange, counter to good warfare. I dismissed my concerns, figuring Andrew’s military decisions that struck me as odd, were caused by the strain of all the days and weeks and months we’d spent fighting. But that day, I saw the truth. The truth that the man who’d once been my friend, wasn’t right in the head. Andrew didn’t kill our enemies out of survival: he tortured them. And the Boltin brothers would join in.”
Dinah didn’t gasp or move away. Still, he gave her a minute to process his words before he continued. “The day of the massacre, there were some survivors from the village we’d been ordered to attack. Andrew beat and tortured each of them in a way I had never seen. The slaughter was horrible, the torture…even worse. I tried to stop Andrew from his atrocities, but the Boltin boys pinned me down. I couldn’t stop the horror—” Colt fought the wavering in his voice, but there was no hiding from this kind of pain.
Dinah edged closer, clinging to him. “It’s not your fault. You tried to stop the man.”
He shook his head. A knot of regret formed in his throat, and he choked. Finally, he was able to breathe again. “No. It is my fault. When Andrew found two young boys in a tepee, he took the one he claimed was the chief’s eldest son, and slowly, over the course of twenty minutes, tortured him to death while he made the boy’s brother watch. The Boltin brothers held me down, cheering Andrew on.” Colt fought the rise of panic, the kind that took you to your knees while you begged God to take you home, so you didn’t have to face it anymore. “I saw from the other boy’s wounds that the child was already dying. I won’t say how, but what violence had already been done to the boy was irreversible. He had another fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe. When Andrew went after the other boy, ready to repeat his awful torture, something in me snapped. I told David and Charles to release me. That the last brat was mine.”
He dared a quick glance at Dinah, but she didn’t pull away or run from the room. She only sat there listening, as if they were having afternoon tea. His hands shook, his honor crumbled. “I couldn’t bear to watch another child suffer, not the way the boy’s brother had already suffered. So, I walked over, slid my hands along the boy’s neck until I found his main arteries, and pressed gently. Blood ceased flowing from his heart to his head, and he felt no pain. I kept my fingers there until I felt no more pulse, and knew he’d been taken away from the horrors of this world.”
Colt lowered his head and dug his nails into his scalp, trying to dislodge the vision from his mind. He wanted to scream and shout to the heavens above. Instead, he dragged in a ragged breath and told Dinah, “I’m evil; a monster who shouldn’t have survived the war. I begged God to take me home. I tried to drink myself to death. No matter what I did, I still lived. Then I received word about my sister’s children. What was I to do with three orphans? I tried, though. I set up the business here in Sioux City. Even agreed to work with Andrew, who claimed to be a changed man, so I’d have a partner. I thought if I had someone to help with the business I would have more time with the kids. But I wasn’t fit to care for them, so I did what I thought was best, and took them to a neighbor for care. Sometimes for days I felt the urges of war returning to haunt me, at other times it would be for months.”
He sat for a while, with his head still hanging in his hands, waiting for Dinah to run and lock herself in the room with the children, or for her to yell at him that he was the monster she always knew him to be. But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, either.
When he couldn’t take the silence anymore, he raised his head and faced her. Tears filled her eyes, and he ached, seeing her sorrow that his words had caused.
“You know you didn’t murder that child, right? You saved him from the kind of death no one deserves.” Dinah laced her fingers behind his neck and tugged him to her. “You’re not a monster. You’re a savior. You spared that boy so much suffering.” Dinah sat on her knees and kissed his cheek, and then his other one, his forehead, his nose. “You are an amazing man, Colt Hardin. Don’t ever believe otherwise.” Then she did the unexpected, she kissed his lips.
He felt the tears slip off her cheeks and onto him. He tasted the saltiness of them. He embraced the softness of her lips. A brief, feather-light sweep crossed his mouth at first, and then she kissed him firmly, passionately, mind-numbingly. And for a second, Colt forgot about his past and his sins and his threat to the world. For a second, he felt alive and he loved the sensation. Loved the touch of her. Loved the feel of her lips to his. Loved the intimacy of her attention. Who was he kidding? He loved her.
And loving Dinah scared him more than the Boltin brothers, his past, and the attack by the creek in the night. Dinah McKinnie turned him around and spun him countless times until he was dizzy with want. Perhaps they really could be a family.
When she released him, and the world began to form back into reality, h
e knew one thing. He’d win the heart of Dinah McKinney, and her hand in marriage. And he knew one way that would get her attention.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A dry wind blew through the heart of town, tossing bits of debris into the air in front of the school and heating Dinah’s skin. Or was that flush forming in her from Mrs. Lassiter’s words?
“Miss McKinnie, I’m not sure that child should continue attending school,” Mrs. Lassiter said, her baby in her arms and two little ones at her side. The other mothers of the schoolchildren stood several paces away. They’d obviously appointed Mrs. Lassiter as head mother and town dictator.
“Why would you say that?” Dinah lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, ready for a fight. “Do you presume to think your children are better than mine?”
“They ain’t even your children. You ain’t married to Colt Hardin. Though you’re still living in that home with him, in sin, I might add.”
Dinah placed her hands on her hips. “Madame, I assure you there is nothing inappropriate going on. Colt Hardin has been recovering from a gunshot wound and broken ribs. I have provided care for his wards and have nursed his wounds. With the exception of when he was healing, Mr. Hardin has not lived in the house proper.”
“He looks fine to me.” Mrs. Lassiter pointed over to Colt, who was pulling the wagon to a stop. It was his first day out, and he’d insisted on coming into town with her when she brought the children to school. They’d parted ways so he could check in at his office, and were meeting, here in front of the general store, to journey back home.
“What issue do you have with Mr. Hardin, and why must you keep attacking James?”
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