by Linda Broday
Curiosity burned. Sam yearned to understand what had happened to make him the outlaw he became. “Why did you turn—?”
“Bad? It’s all right if you say it.” Luke slid his infamous Colt from the holster and spun the cylinder. “I am bad to the core, and don’t you ever forget it.”
The words slammed into Sam with the force of bullets. “Help me understand why.”
“I have my reasons.” Luke gave a bark of laughter. “Will it change anything if I spill my guts and confess my sins?”
“I just want to know. Let me help you.”
“Too late.” The breeze caught Luke’s angry snarl and sent it swirling.
Sam’s ire rose as well. “This ranch, the perfect lives you think we’ve had…well, let’s just say that me and Houston didn’t have it easy either.”
Memories of missing his mother, confusion at his father’s withdrawal, the long, lonely days, crying himself to sleep at night, swept through his mind. The impossibility of reaching the high bar Stoker set.
“Your charmed life was a smokescreen?”
“Yes. Stoker was Lord Almighty tough. He expected us to earn every last thing we got. Nothing was free. And when we failed to measure up—” Sam’s voice broke. “Let’s just say hell’s fire wasn’t as hot as Pa’s anger.”
“You and your brother were lucky to have a father.”
“Though I didn’t see it at the time, I reckon so,” Sam agreed. “When I got bigger, I realized he was tough because he cared. He wanted to turn us into men he could be proud of. Mother was always sickly. After she died, he turned to stone, worked like a man obsessed. I rarely saw him.” Sam shot Luke a hard stare. “You might think he wants to do right by you because of his conscience, but you’re dead wrong. Pa is thrilled to have another son. He loved your mother. Probably more than he loved mine. Yours was his first love.”
Hell, from what Stoker’d said, maybe his only love.
A man never forgot the first time he lost his heart. Sam knew that to be a fact. Sierra was his first…and his last. There would never be another for him.
“I wish I could believe you.”
With a long sigh, Sam got to his feet. “Wish you could too, Luke. I’ll leave you to your thinking.”
“I was married once.”
Luke’s soft words stopped him before he’d taken two steps. “What happened?”
Self-loathing oozed from each word. “She stepped in front of a bullet that was meant for me. Angelina died to save my worthless ass.”
Sam laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Save it,” Luke spat. “Don’t deserve sympathy. Like you said, I made my bed. I’m not laying claim to the Legend name. I’ll keep my own. I intend to ride out, and you’ll never hear from me.”
“Luke, I’ll stick my neck out until they chop it off for you. But you’ll have to stop the robbing.”
“I don’t think I can.” Luke’s words were low, as though saying them louder would seal his fate. “I never took any of that for me.”
“Hell, I figured that out. Who are you thieving for?”
Silence stretched before Luke said, “Lives are at stake. I can’t say more. I won’t put them at risk.”
A jolt went through Sam. “Luke, you can work and earn the money you need. You don’t have to rob. When you make up your mind, let me know. By the way, Stoker wants to talk to you when you get around to it.”
Without a look back, Sam mounted up. All the way back to headquarters, he thought of his brother haunted, driven by his demons, wondering where to begin in fixing things.
He, Luke, and Houston were like branches of an oak. Houston’s was straight and tall. Sam’s was gnarled and twisted. But Luke’s had snapped in half. One part wanted to do right and make amends, but the other part wouldn’t let him, and neither was connected to any kind of root. A tree needed roots to grow strong.
Sometimes, he felt the same way. Maybe it was too late, both for Luke and for him. With turmoil turning him inside out, his thoughts turned to Sierra as they always seemed to.
Keep me or let me go, she had pleaded that morning. Damn, he wished it was that simple. If so, he’d grab her in a heartbeat and try his best to make her the happiest woman alive. But he’d seen the wives who waited for weeks and sometimes months on end for their husbands to come home. Watching, worrying that he lay dead somewhere. Fearing a rider might bring his lifeless body home slung over a horse. Bringing him home to bury.
No, Sam refused to do that to her. His job was dangerous with deadly consequences. No matter which choice he made, someone would lose. He’d rather it be him. He’d sacrifice anything for her happiness.
To ruin her life would be the biggest sin of all.
* * *
He walked straight into the eye of a cyclone when he entered the Lone Star headquarters. Angry mothers were shaking their fists and shouting at his father. Houston stood beside Stoker but couldn’t get a word in edgewise to restore calm.
Skirting the women’s flying fists, Sam made his way to Houston. “What’s the problem?”
“Miss Beecher, the schoolteacher, up and took off last night with Margaret Simpson’s husband. There’s no one to teach school. It’ll take months to find a replacement.”
Sam grinned. “I have someone ready to step into the job.”
“Did you go to magician school while you were gone so long? Who?”
“Sierra. She can start in the morning. You get these mothers to simmer down, and I’ll go tell her.”
Houston stopped Sam with a hand on his arm. “Did you find Luke?”
“Yep. He was up at the stream where we used to play when we were kids. He’ll stay put for now. We’ve got to talk, Houston.”
“I’m pretty busy now. How about after supper?”
Sam nodded and went in search of Sierra. After trying her room, the rest of the house, and finally the workers’ cottages, he found her in the mercantile, shopping with Mrs. Ross.
“There you are.” He took long strides toward her. “I’ve been looking all over.”
Sierra turned at the sound of his voice as the housekeeper piled yet another dress on top of the ones in her arms. Sierra’s blue eyes silently pleaded for help. “Do you need something?”
“Yep. I have a job for you.”
Mrs. Ross scowled at him. “Shoo. That can wait a minute. She can’t do anything until she’s properly clothed.”
Relief crossed Sierra’s face. She quickly transferred the clothes to Mrs. Ross. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I have enough dresses.” Beaming, she took Sam’s arm, and they walked to the door. “What kind of job?”
“Teaching these pitiful little ranch children reading, writing, and ciphering.”
“A schoolteacher! Oh, Sam, I could hug you.”
He could hug her too but for a different reason. The heat of her hand on his arm had brought a flame to the dying embers he worked with all his might to smother.
God help him!
Each time she was near, the desire for her grew stronger. He wished someone would tell him how in Sam Hill he’d be able to do the right thing by her.
Not when the wrong thing felt so good.
Twenty-eight
They stepped to the side when the mercantile door opened, making room for the patrons to get past, then moved out onto the wooden walk. Sierra’s hands trembled with excitement. She had a job. Not only a job, but one she knew she’d excel in—teaching school.
Finally, she had the purpose she’d yearned for while she waited. But make no mistake, when Sam found Rocky, she’d go back to Waco. And leave her heart on the Lone Star.
“I’m so happy. Thank you, Sam! If only I could find my brother, my life would just about be perfect.” She gave his rugged profile a sidelong glance.
The pain in her heart nearly buc
kled her knees.
It was time to move on. She didn’t need Sam Legend to make her happy. She had a job and a place to live. And soon she’d have her brother back.
From beneath his black Stetson, Sam’s gray eyes seemed to peer into her innermost thoughts. “I got sidetracked this morning. But I’ll send out telegrams in a few minutes. I’ll find Rocky.”
“I appreciate anything you can do.” She quickly removed her hand from his arm to sever the contact. “When will I start my job?”
“First thing in the morning. Is that too soon?”
“It’s perfect. I’ll have to find out how many students I’ll have.” Sierra noticed a rider galloping down the road from the entrance. Her heart thumped loudly, praying it wasn’t trouble. She forced her attention back to Sam. “Have you seen Luke? I’m worried about him.”
“Just came from talking to him.” Sam’s face darkened. “To my surprise and shock, I found out he’s mine and Houston’s brother. Stoker is his father.”
“Sam, that’s wonderful. He needs family.” Sierra knew firsthand now what it was to have no one.
“We all have a lot of sorting out to do.”
“I’m sure learning you have an outlaw brother wasn’t what you expected.” She couldn’t imagine how difficult this would be for Sam, especially given his job. It was sure to cause big problems.
“That’s putting it mildly.” His gaze also lit on the approaching rider.
The grim set of his mouth sent unease through Sierra. Something was wrong. “Did Luke know you were family before now?”
“That’s the part that sticks in my craw. He knew several years ago. Makes me madder than a locoed steer that he kept it secret. Even at that old shack and along the trail home, he never said a word.”
“So much makes sense now. The reason he came all the way with us. I guess he needed to see what he’d missed out on. No wonder he’s angry.”
“No more than I am. He should’ve told me.”
“When? How? That’s not something you mention in normal conversation. Luke Legend has a nice ring.”
“Don’t get used to it. Says he’s keeping his own name.”
The red-haired rider reined up hard in front of them, kicking up dust. He lifted his hat to her and murmured “Ma’am” before leaning from the saddle. “Sam, you wanted to know if strangers came,” he said, out of breath. “Well, they just did.”
Sierra’s heart pounded as she listened to the cowboy tell about three riders fitting Isaac Ford and his men’s descriptions.
Her heart pounded.
The outlaws are still out there.
“They said they were lost and asked directions to Squaw Valley,” the cowboy said, “but I could tell they used that as an excuse to get closer. The one with a broken nose took in every detail.”
John—him, she remembered.
“That all they said?” Sam’s eyes narrowed to slits as he stared to the south.
“Yep. Then I sent them on their way.”
“Thanks, Grady. Be sure to keep guards at the crossbar. We haven’t seen the last of them.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Grady tipped his hat to Sierra and hurried to get more men.
“Why won’t they go away?” Sierra whispered.
“Men like them don’t give up.” His voice was as hard as granite.
“What are we going to do?”
A layer of ice frosted Sam’s gray eyes. “Wait for them to return—then I’m going to arrest them…or shoot them. Don’t worry. Our men will keep them away from you.”
She hoped he was right. But she remembered the old trappers in the mountains speaking of the cunning of cougars. Ambush predators, the men called them. They would lie in wait and spring when they least expected them.
Ford and his gang were ambush predators, stalking their prey, waiting to pounce. And when she and the others let down their guard, they’d grab her.
All for some map that didn’t exist. Why did they keep coming? And what had they done to Rocky?
If they wanted her, they’d find a way.
Only there was no if. They did want her, and that brought cold sweat trickling down her spine.
The next time, she might not survive.
Twenty-nine
Sierra pushed aside her fear and pasted on a smile for Hector, who came from Carlos’s house. The minute he spied her with Sam outside the mercantile, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. “Señorita Sierra!”
She put aside her worry, forcing a smile. “Hola, Hector. I have good news. You’re going to school.”
The boy threw his arms around her waist, staring in confusion.
Sam patted his head. “La escuela.”
A grin spread across his face. “Hap-py,” he said with eyes shining.
“Very good, Hector,” she praised, then swung to Sam. “I’d better see what I can learn from the mothers about the size of my class. I want to be prepared.”
Sam laughed. “Then you’d best find a good switch. Some of these kids are little heathens. I know me and Houston were.”
It was good to hear Sam laugh. “I’m relieved to know that you’re too old for my class.”
Good heavens, if he were, she’d have trouble remembering the alphabet or how to do sums. He made thinking impossible. Except how much she wanted to be in his arms.
Stop that, she scolded herself.
Pushing away the hurt, Sierra told Sam good-bye and set off with Hector in tow, wishing she knew how to speak the boy’s language. He was slowly learning some English, as evidenced by the word happy, but was nowhere close to understanding enough. How could she teach him the things he needed to know? This was going to be a challenge.
She found some mothers shopping in the mercantile and learned that she’d have fifteen students, not counting Hector and the other Spanish children. The women also told her they ranged in age from thirteen to six.
Her stomach whirled as a million doubts set in. What if she couldn’t handle that many? What if she couldn’t measure up? Everyone’s expectations were so high.
“Thank you,” she told them. “You’ve been most helpful.”
One of the mothers, Mrs. Smith, she thought, called, “You’ll do fine. The children know what’s waiting for them at home if they misbehave.”
Waving to the prune-faced woman, Sierra turned her attention to finding Luke. She needed an interpreter.
Failing that, some quick Spanish lessons.
Full of purpose, she marched to the dwelling where she thought she’d seen Sam come from. As she approached, Luke rode up.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Luke swung easily from the saddle. Her gaze went to the heavy Colt riding low on his hip, reminding her of his dangerous occupation.
“I have a job as the new schoolteacher and a request of you.” She noted his somber face. He didn’t appear any happier than Sam. When he didn’t reply, she hurried on, “Will you talk to the immigrant families? I want to teach their children also.”
“I’ll speak to them.” He ruffled Hector’s hair. “You’re doing a good thing, Miss Sierra.”
When he turned to go inside, she touched his arm. “Luke, will you teach me some Spanish phrases so I can communicate with the children?”
He tugged his hat lower on his forehead, so low it totally hid his eyes. Though when he spoke, his voice was gentle as always. “You can’t learn a whole language in one sitting. Why don’t you ask Sam?” He shifted his weight. “The thing is…I may not be here long. Best if I move on.”
Hot tears lurked behind her eyes. It seemed to her that he’d be glad to have someone to belong to, a family. Instead, it had made him sullen and troubled. He hadn’t even called her dulce.
She wanted to ask where he was going, but pain in his eyes stopped her. “Sam told me you’re his brother.”
> “Appears that way. That’s the reason I’m leaving.”
“I don’t understand. He wants to help you.”
“Long as I stay here, I’m only going to be trouble for him and the others. I see that.” Luke gazed toward headquarters. “I got myself into this mess. It’s up to me to get out of it. I won’t cost Sam his job.”
Hector tugged on her hand, trying to pull her away.
Sierra barely felt the boy. All she could feel was the big lump in her throat. “Please don’t leave without saying good-bye. I consider you a friend.”
“And I you.” He turned and walked into the simple but sturdy dwelling.
Hector pulled on her hand. “Go.”
The new English word brought a smile in spite of everything. Sierra put thoughts of Luke out of her mind. “Where do you want to go, Hector?”
Unable to grasp that much English, he gave her a mute stare.
“No worries.” She aimed him toward the cool, inviting porch at the house they called headquarters. Today she would begin his English lessons.
Seating him in a chair in the cool shade, she hurried inside and gathered up simple things like a book, pencil, apple, and whatever else she could find. Joining Hector, she held up each item and said the word for it. She repeated them until he could tell her without any prompting.
“That’s very good, Hector.” She hugged him. “Come.”
They went down the steps, and she touched the grass, saying the word. Then went to the tree, the flagpole, and finally pointed up at the huge bronze star hanging between the two poles. “Star.”
The long shadows told her hours had passed. She’d been so intent on the lessons, she hadn’t realized daylight was fading fast. Hector scampered off to play.
A cough came from behind. She whirled to find Sam standing on the porch.
The waning sunlight touched his hair and softened the lines in his face. “Sierra, I sent some telegrams out. We’ll see what comes back.”
“Thank you.” She noticed his sorrow. “What’s wrong?”
“I had a telegram from Fort Worth. The wife of my friend, a former Texas Ranger, died very suddenly.”
