She covered that tiny scar with her finger, feeling the imperfection she could no longer see. He was no more handsome without it. No less handsome with it. She wondered if he’d received it as a boy or a man, so she asked.
His hand came around hers as if searching for the memory through her touch. “Honestly, I don’t remember.” Another shrug. “I’ve got a lot of scars.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” And she hadn’t. She always saw him in totality, not bits and pieces.
The corner of his mouth crooked up. “Uh-huh.”
She was beginning to understand him. That scar was just a piece of his history he’d moved beyond. How did he do that? Snuggling into a more comfortable position, she asked, “So if you can’t tell me how you got the scar, can you tell me about how you lost your parents?”
She loved the way he arched his brows at her when he thought she’d taken their conversation off the rails. Their minds definitely worked in different ways, but maybe that wasn’t so bad a thing. She was beginning to see that difference, rather than being destructive, could actually provide balance.
His hand dropped from hers and settled on her hip. Did he know he was pulling her closer?
“You serious?”
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. Bringing her hand down to his chest, she asked, “Do you have something better to do right now?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then please?” She stroked his arm through his shirt. The cotton was warm from his skin, a little rough to her touch. It reminded her of the soft drag of his calloused finger over her breasts. Awareness shivered through her. “I want to understand you.”
*
HOW WAS A man to deny a woman who requested that? Luke blew out a breath and drew Josie closer still. She felt soft in his arms, but not as soft as she had last night.
“Settle in then.”
She made a sound that could have been a chuckle. “I can’t get any closer.”
Yes, she could, emotionally at least, but it was up to him to take her trust from physical to mental and that was going to take more than sexual prowess. That was going to take real intimacy. Not to mention honesty. His conscience twinged. At some point, he was going to have to tell Josie that he was her beloved Dane Savage—and then be in the position of competing not only with Zach but also competing with his own damn self—but that could wait. Right now she just wanted to know about his family. That he could share, so he told her of his and Ace’s friendship, of his parents and the excitement they brought to his every day with their spirit of adventure. Of how, when the massacre started, they’d hidden him and ordered him to always remember how they loved him, of how his father had told him that they didn’t regret anything. Not leaving the safety of the East for the danger of the West. Of having him and how proud they were of him. And how they hoped he’d carry on that spirit in his life. They’d never let on that they thought he wouldn’t survive. And because of that, he’d never doubted that they would, too.
He told her of how he’d found them in the end and of how, for a long time, he’d felt betrayed that they hadn’t survived. He told her of how he’d clung to the bitterness that they didn’t regret their life choices, which had ended up making him an orphan.
When she fussed, he hushed her and explained how as he got older he understood they’d died trying to create a future for him, but he knew in his heart, given a chance to do it again, they would have made the same choices. He’d been their world, but they were adventurers and lived their life as such. And now, so did he.
“So no, my darlin’, love has always been a wild ride for me, but when I find it, I value it and protect it. I don’t hide from it.”
“And you enjoy the ride,” she said, worrying a spot on her dress, avoiding his gaze.
That could have been a question or a statement. Watching her carefully, he answered, “I enjoy most things in life.”
A low murmur of voices came from the next room. Cold fear settled in his gut. Josie leaped to her feet.
The door didn’t open. Josie sighed and wrung her hands before spinning back.
She threw her hands wide. “How long does this take?”
He stood, too. “I don’t know.”
She licked her lips. He knew how she felt. Waiting was hell.
She glanced at the door then at him and hugged herself the way he wanted to hug her. “Have you ever thought about being a father?”
A lot more in the last twelve hours. He glanced at her flat stomach. He hadn’t held back when they were together. Even now, Josie could be carrying his child. The smile started deep inside. He definitely wanted their child to have her eyes. “I’ve always wanted a family.”
“Really?”
She didn’t need to sound so shocked.
“Just because I’ve never found someone with whom to build a family doesn’t mean I never had the hankering.”
“I guess I just never thought of men wanting things like that.”
“From what I can tell, you’ve never thought of men as much of anything other than something that needed to be avoided.”
Her chin came up. The woman was bracing for a fight. “You make me sound so cold.”
“That’s how plans are, cold and calculating. A hedge of a bet.”
“And words are walls,” she countered immediately.
He nodded, watching the emotions flick across her face: fear, determination, anger. “For you they’re more like weapons.”
“And for you, they’re not?”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m talking now because I’m trying to understand you.”
She thought this defensive sparring was going to lead to understanding? “We said everything we needed to say last night, my darlin’.” If one discounted the words and focused on the emotion. “You just need to think back and listen.”
Color flooded Josie’s cheeks. She leaned in and hissed sotto voce, “We had sex.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you did, but I was talking your ear off.”
“Not that I remember.”
It amazed him that she couldn’t see the reality of what they had. “We’re going to have to work on your listening, then.”
She bristled. He cut off her retort with a wave of his hand. “At some point, Josie, you’re going to have to come to a decision about what you want to do, for good, for bad or whatever. You’re going to have to decide to stick with your plan or take a chance and go off course.”
“And if I don’t?”
From the way her hands balled into fists, she wasn’t feeling the same contentment he was in the wake of last night. He was going to have to work on that.
“You’re not right about everything,” she accused.
“Maybe, but I’m right about this.”
Whatever she was about to fire back died when the bedroom door handle rattled. Josie blindly reached out for him. Luke caught her hand, and pulled her close. At least her instincts were sound.
“I’ve got you.”
Her fingers squeezed his.
The door opened. Bettina and the Doc came into the room. Bettina was all smiles. Doc was drying his hands on a towel.
“We have a boy and a girl!” Bettina crowed delightedly.
“And Bella?” Luke asked.
Doc answered. “Surprisingly, the surgery was relatively straightforward. There are a couple of arteries you’ve got to worry about—”
Who cared about the surgical particulars? “Bella, Doc. How is Bella?”
Doc caught himself. “Oh. Sorry. Bella’s a strong woman. She did well. Very well. As long as there aren’t complications, she’ll be fine. She just needs to stay quiet until she heals.”
“She won’t have complications,” Bettina declared with the ferocity of a mother who’d watched her daughter come out of hell. Luke hadn’t known what to think of Bettina when he’d first met her, but the prim woman who’d annoyed him had turned out to be a straight shooter with the determination of a badger. A man ha
d to respect that.
Doc nodded. “From your mouth to God’s ears, but right now mother and babies are doing fine, though I think the new father could use a drink.”
“We all need a drink,” Bettina said. “And for this occasion, only the best will do.”
Going over to the cabinet, she pulled out five bottles of Sam’s best whiskey. “Call the men and tell them to bring a glass. We shall drink to the newest members of Rancho Montoya.”
“And Hell’s Eight.”
Bettina nodded her head regally. “And Hell’s Eight.”
Luke shook his head. Damn, Hell’s Eight was changing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHE’D BEEN SUMMONED. Freshly bathed, her hair no longer feeling or looking like an abandoned rat’s nest, a present in hand, Josie hesitated outside Bella’s bedroom door. She knew who was in there. And it wasn’t the babies that were making her nervous. By now everyone knew that she and Luke had a relationship. That, in the biblical sense, they’d begotten their hearts out. Now there would be consequences. Maybe condemnation. At the very least, expectations. Ugh. She’d rather be nibbled to death by ducks.
Smoothing the brown paper wrapped and tied decoratively around the tintype and taking a fortifying breath, she knocked. It was Tia that invited her in. Opening the door, she pasted a smile on her face and walked into the room.
She didn’t know what she expected to see after the harrowing night before, but it certainly wasn’t Bella propped up on pillows looking tired but happy, a baby in her arms and a smile on her face. Tia sat in a rocker beside the bed, holding the other baby. Bettina sat beside her, smiling like everyone else.
Bella waved her in. “Come. Come sit here beside me so I can see you. It is hard for me to turn right now.”
Josie looked helplessly at Tia, who was crooning to the baby. She couldn’t sit on the bed. Bella had just had her stomach cut open.
“It is all right if you sit carefully,” Bella encouraged, patting the mattress. “Doctor Shane assures me that I will not pop open like an overripe cantaloupe.”
“That is an appalling image, hija,” Bettina castigated.
Maybe. Maybe not. Josie didn’t want to take a chance on being put in a position to judge.
“I’ll go get a chair.”
“Do not be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are wrinkling your skirt,” Bella pointed out.
Darn it. She was. She released the folds and smoothed them down.
“Come sit.”
“How about we compromise and I just stand? You have no idea how awkward I can be and I don’t want to be the one who causes you to just—” she motioned with her hand “—burst open.”
Bella laughed and then groaned. “I told you, Doc has promised me my insides are well darned like the best socks.”
The baby fussed within its bundling. Bella hushed it with sweet sounds.
“I’m not finding that comforting.” She looked helplessly at Tia and Bettina.
Tia smiled and rocked the baby she held. “I saw the stitches. They were well set.”
“And Tia would know. She’s a seamstress,” Bettina offered.
“You do know this conversation is macabre, right?”
Bella shrugged. “It is honest.”
Josie didn’t have anywhere to go with that. “Fine. But I’ll still compromise and stand.”
“All right.” Bella eased the blanket out from under the baby. “Do you want to see my scar?”
Good heavens. “No!”
“I am sad to say, it is truly ugly. It goes from here—” she pointed down low on her abdomen “—to here.” She pointed a little bit above her belly button.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. Without this operation, I would not have my babies.” She kissed the head of the little one she held.
“Will you have to go through it again?”
Bella’s smile slipped. “There cannot be more babies.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Bella shrugged and then winced. “I am happy for what I have. Life is good for me.”
There was no doubt Bella was being honest. Her happiness shone. Despite coming out of surgery barren, she was happy. Josie walked around the foot of the bed. “I wish I could do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be happy about the here and now without worrying about the future.” Josie shook her head. “It’s a skill I lack.” She thought of what Luke had said about her plans. About last night. “But one I wish I had.”
“Ah. You are a worrier like my Sam.” Bella shook her head. “Always thinking about what could be rather than enjoying what is.”
It was hard to enjoy things in the moment when the future was always looming. “I like Sam.”
Bella smiled. “So do I.”
Tia snorted. “Too much. That man has a swelled head.”
“I feared for you,” Josie said. “We all did.”
“Me, too, especially when the doctor kicked Sam out.” Bella squeezed Josie’s hand. “Thank you for sending him back in.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You told him I needed him. This he said.”
“He was already halfway to the door.”
“That I believe. It is only because I was in so much pain that he allowed the doctor to override his common sense. I thank you for giving it back to him.”
“In that case, you’re welcome.”
Tia shook her head and stood. “I don’t know why you are so surprised. My boys are men who know how to love strong.”
Bella grinned at Josie. “Yet she blames me for Sam’s swelled head.”
“With reason, too.” Tia pushed the blanket off the little one’s face. “This bambina sleeps.” The baby had Bella’s hair. It stood out in a dark shock of black, but it looked like she might have Sam’s patriarchal nose.
“So does my son.”
Tia nodded. “I will put them in their crib so we may talk.”
Oh dear heavens, they were going to talk. “I can come back later,” she called after Tia. “Bella probably needs to rest.”
Tia clucked her tongue as she came back from the adjoining room and gently lifted the baby out of Bella’s arms. “You cannot escape so easily, muchacha.”
More was the pity. “Who said I wanted to escape?” she called after Tia.
Bella whispered in an aside, “You’re wrinkling your skirt again.”
Darn it! She clenched her free hand into a fist. “I need to break that habit.”
Bella groaned as she tried to shift positions. “Do not bother on my account. It makes it easy to understand your moods.”
“Wonderful.”
Bella groaned again.
“What is it? Can I help you? Is it the incision?”
Bella shook her head. “That does not hurt, but all the other muscles in my body?” She grimaced. “They are screaming protests.”
“That’s better than the alternative.”
“Says the woman who does not hurt.”
“True.”
“It is the labor that is speaking now,” Tia said, coming back into the room.
Bella frowned. “It needs to shut up.”
Tia nodded and resumed her seat. There was something inherently regal about the woman that made just sitting seem something more. Josie envied her that.
“It will.”
Once she was settled, Tia asked, “So, what troubles you, Josie?”
Josie made sure she wasn’t fussing with her clothing. “Nothing. I just came to bring Bella a present for the babies.”
Bella’s face lit up with anticipation. “Ah. I was hoping that was for me. Is it one of your beautiful pictures?”
Her stomach sank as the moment was here. Had she made the right choice? “Yes.”
“I thought they were all destroyed.”
“I saved one.”
“The best, I’m sure.”
Not if she took the emotion out of the
choice. “I think so.”
“So let us see it.”
Very gingerly, Josie sat on the side of the bed and handed Bella the package. The brown paper rustled as she took it.
Bella ripped into it.
Tia snorted at Bella’s enthusiasm. “You would think this one was not already spoiled.”
“Hush, Tia.” Bella laughed. “Presents are good.”
Josie smiled at her enthusiasm and the good-natured exchange. “Yes, they are.”
She held her breath while Bella tore at the paper. Up until the moment she saw Bella’s expression, Josie wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision as to which tintype to save. But when Bella froze and teared up, she knew that split-second decision, based completely on emotion, had been the right one.
“It is perfect.” Her fingers hovered over the picture. “Very perfect.”
“You can touch it.”
She did. “This, this is special.” She looked up. “You are truly an artist, Josie.”
“Thank you.”
Tia held out her hand. “May I see?”
“Of course.”
Bella passed the picture to Josie, who passed it to Tia. Tia froze when she saw it. “Luke told me of this picture, the one that would give you the standing you needed to make money and have your freedom.”
Josie took a breath. She hadn’t realized he’d shared that. “Yes.”
“This photograph is beautiful. Stunning in all it captures.”
She handed it to Bettina, who agreed. “Lovely.”
Tia snapped her skirts straight and looked up. “But this is not that photograph.”
“No.”
Bella perked up. “Oh?”
Tia frowned, and her voice lowered an octave. Her speech slowed to deliberate. “Yet Luke is convinced that is the photograph you saved?”
It was only partially a question.
“I know.” When the moment had come and she’d had to choose, her heart had made the choice. The photograph she’d saved was the photograph of all of them together surrounding Bella in her need. Laughing. Living. Loving. Everything that was the epitome of Hell’s Eight. Everything that was Luke.
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