Travis looked at his son for a long moment before answering. “How can I stop him when he knows I’d do the same thing if I were in his shoes?”
Daniella’s panic mounted. She swung back to Matt and tried a different tactic. “How can you hope to find him? This rain has wiped out any trail he might have left.”
“I’ll find him,” Matt answered.
Everyone in the room heard the quiet, deadly determination in his voice, and no one doubted Matt would do what he said. Abraham Miller Scott would die. That message was clearly spoken by the gold flames blazing in Matt Colton’s brown eyes.
Daniella let out a trembling sigh of defeat. She was beginning to understand what Apache women, and other women down through the ages whose men fought and warred, must have gone through. When a man decides to face danger, it’s a woman’s job to help him all she can, not hinder him.
Matt had been ten when she married his father, but she loved Travis’s son just as much as she loved the children she’d given birth to. If anything happened to him—she shuddered and forced the thought away.
“Give me your saddlebags,” she said to Matt. She saw his doubtful look and waved it away. “It’s not a trick to try to keep you here,” she assured him. “But I won’t let you leave without food.”
When Daniella left the room, Pace, her sixteen-year-old son, followed her, then turned away from the kitchen and headed for his room.
When Daniella returned a few moments later, she nearly cried out at the sight of Matt and Travis shaking hands like two strangers. They should be hugging each other, she thought. But Matt had all his emotions bottled up tight. All except his anger and his hatred. It seemed, during these past few trying hours, that all of Matt’s tender feelings had died with Angela.
“Don’t know when I’ll be back,” Matt was saying. “He’s got quite a head start on me. Might take a while.”
Travis took in a deep breath and nodded. “Let us hear from you, son.”
Matt merely returned the nod. He took the saddlebags from Daniella’s trembling fingers and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. They both knew he was thanking her for much more than just the food.
All Daniella could manage past the lump in her throat was a strained, “Take care, Matt.”
“G’bye, Matt,” thirteen-year-old Spence and nine-year-old Jessica said in unison.
Serena, Pace’s twin, held out as long as she could, then threw herself at Matt’s chest and hugged him tight. “Oh, Matt,” she cried. “Please be careful.”
“I will.” Matt kissed the top of his stepsister’s head. “Will you do something for me while I’m gone, Princess?”
“Anything.”
“Will you look after Joanna for me? Tell her…tell her I love her.”
“I will, Matt,” Serena said, stepping out of the embrace. She gave him a trembling smile. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
Daniella’s heart contracted with pain and pride. Pain for Matt’s suffering, for his leaving; pride in Serena for not adding to his problems by wailing.
Matt glanced around the room one last time, then walked out the door. The rain had stopped. Good. Maybe it hadn’t completely washed out the tracks he intended to follow.
As he led his horse out of the barn, his gaze roamed over the line of trees to the south. He could almost see two lovers, himself and Angela, walking hand in hand beneath the branches, could almost hear her soft laughter rippling gently through the leaves. He could see her green eyes gazing up at him with love. He could hear her voice, feel her touch.
He turned his back on the memories, his face toward revenge.
He mounted up and rode west.
He didn’t look back.
A few minutes later, the family wasn’t over the abruptness of Matt’s leaving when Pace came back to the salon. At sixteen he was lean and wiry and nearly as tall as Travis. When Daniella realized Pace was dressed much the same as Matt had been, she reeled with shock.
She took a step toward him and gasped. His eyes were like hers, clear, pale blue, fringed by long black lashes. But the expression there was not hers. Nor was it the expression of her son, Pace Colton. It was the expression of the Apache warrior Fire Seeker, the half-breed adopted grandson of Cochise.
“Pace! No! I won’t let—”
“Duuda’, shimá,” Pace interrupted. No, my mother. “Duudaańndida. Don’t say anything.” He shrugged carelessly and stepped out the front door. “Someone has to watch his back.”
Before anyone could stop him, he was gone.
Travis sank heavily onto his chair, feeling every one of his fifty-six years. He knew there was no use trying to stop Pace. Nothing could reach his half-breed adopted son when Pace got that full-blooded Apache look to him. Trying to talk sense into him when he got like that was like trying to talk to a rock.
And besides, Pace was right. Matt wasn’t thinking straight. He wouldn’t be watching his own back. But Christ! Pace was only sixteen!
Dear God, protect my sons.
And high in the Sierra Madres of Sonora, Mexico, a wrinkled old shaman closed his eyes, listened to the wind, and wept.
Chapter One
June 7, 1881
It was Joanna Colton’s seventh birthday, the fourth in a row without her parents. Her father had been gone since the day of her mother’s funeral, just before Joanna turned four.
Her Aunt Serena watched the party in progress, but Serena’s mind wasn’t on the game of blind man’s bluff. Her sister Jessica was in charge of the game anyway.
Serena smiled in spite of herself. At twelve, Jessie had turned into quite the little organizer. She’d done most of the planning for this birthday party, and Serena was grateful.
Serena’s mind wandered again. Where was Pace? He knew today was Joanna’s birthday, damn him. Her twin brother had left two weeks ago after hearing a rumor that Matt was in Tombstone. Surely Pace had found him by now. Surely he would bring Matt home today.
Matt.
Her heart twisted at the thought of her stepbrother, Joanna’s father. None of the family had seen Matt for three years. Except Pace.
Even Pace wouldn’t have seen him, except he had followed Matt that day he’d set out after Angela’s murderer. Pace had kept his distance, realizing Matt needed to be alone for a while. That “while” lasted two years.
That’s how long it took Matt to catch up with Abraham Miller Scott. Two years. For two years Matt followed Scott and Pace followed Matt. They trailed north through Navaho country, up through Colorado and Montana, south through California’s giant redwoods to San Francisco, then through Nevada and back to Arizona. They finally caught up with Scott two days into Mexico.
No one knew the exact details of what happened when Matt caught up with Scott, except Matt and Pace. When Pace came home a few weeks later, all he said was that it was over. Scott was dead.
Serena knew it hadn’t been an easy death. She remembered the stories she and Pace had listened to around the campfire at night when they were children. Those stories they weren’t supposed to hear. They’d heard them every time they’d gone to stay with their grandfather, Cochise.
Serena and Pace may have had to sneak out of the wickiup at night to hear those old stories, but Matt was older. He didn’t have to sneak. He was permitted to listen to the tales of Spaniards torturing Apaches, Apaches torturing their own victims. Matt had even seen some of it first hand when he was younger.
No, Serena thought with a sigh. Abraham Miller Scott did not die an easy death. She was certain he took a long time at it.
She remembered the night just over a year ago when she had felt it. She had been eating dinner with the family when a sudden rush of horrendous terror hit her. She had dropped her fork with a clatter and gained everyone’s undivided attention while she stared at her plate in total, consuming fear.
Then, as suddenly as it came, it faded, and somehow she knew the terror was not part of anyone she loved. A moment later a feeling of such hatred swam
ped her that she had felt sick. Somehow, piled on top of that hatred, a euphoric sense of satisfaction grew.
It was then she had known Matt had found his prey. That feeling of hatred and satisfaction told her Abraham Miller Scott did not die an easy death, for the hatred and satisfaction, she knew, were her stepbrother’s. But damn it, that was over a year ago. Where the hell was Matt?
“Rena, Rena! Come see!” Joanna cried.
Serena combed her fingers through the streak of white hair at her right temple and pulled her attention back to the birthday girl and the party in progress. “Okay, Jo, I’m coming.”
“We’re gonna do the piñata now! Come watch!”
Supper had been over for hours and the birthday girl lay in exhausted sleep, but Pace still wasn’t back. Nor was he back the next day, or the day after. Serena paced and cursed and prayed. Where was he? What was taking so long? Had he found Matt?
Another two full, agonizing weeks went by after Joanna’s birthday before Pace finally rode in—alone.
“Well?” Travis demanded.
“Did you find him?” Daniella asked anxiously.
“Is he all right? Where is he?” Serena questioned.
Pace slapped the trail dust off his denim pants and slumped onto the sofa. “I found him.” His voice sounded hollow, lifeless.
Serena knelt before her twin brother and studied his closed features. She searched her mind, trying to connect with his, but he was shutting her out. Serena trembled. Pace almost never shut her out. “Tell us, Pace.”
“Why didn’t he return with you? When’s he coming home?” Daniella asked.
“He’s not coming home,” Pace said bluntly. “At least…not any time soon.”
“You’ve never minced words before, son,” Travis told him. “Don’t start now.”
“All right,” Pace said. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “He was drunk.”
“So? Why didn’t you just sober him up and bring him home?”
“He didn’t want to get sober. He didn’t want to come home.”
“What do you mean?” Serena asked. “Didn’t you tell him how much we all miss him, that Joanna needs him?”
“I told him, all right,” Pace said with disgust. “I told him Jo needed him. I told him about the trouble brewing on the reservation, that we needed him there. He said…he said Joanna’s got the whole rest of the family, so she doesn’t need him, and The People don’t need him either.”
“That doesn’t sound like Matt,” Daniella said, bewildered.
“It’s not Matt, Mother,” Pace said sadly. “Not the Matt we know, anyway.”
Serena bit the inside of her jaw. Pace had never danced around a subject this way before. He’d always been famous for saying exactly what was on his mind, whether it was prudent and tactful or not. “Pace, out with it. What are you not telling us?” she demanded.
“All right.” Pace pushed himself up from the sofa and faced his father. “I didn’t try to sober him up because he wouldn’t let me near him. He doesn’t want anything to do with me or anybody else. He’s too busy feeling sorry for himself to care what anybody else wants or needs.”
Pace glanced at his mother, took a deep breath, then looked back at Travis. “When I said he was drunk, I didn’t mean it to sound like something temporary, because it isn’t. From what I heard in Tombstone, he’s always drunk. I don’t think he’s been sober since I left him in Mexico over a year ago. Come to think of it,” he said with disgust, “he wasn’t sober then, either.”
“Oh my God,” Daniella whispered. She went to Travis and buried her face against his shoulder. “We’ve got to go to him. We’ve got to bring him home. He needs us.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mother,” Pace said.
“Not a good idea?” she shrieked. “You expect us to just leave him there like that? Pretend nothing’s wrong? Just…just go on without him? What about Joanna? Is she supposed to forget she even has a father?”
“Take it easy, love,” Travis said quietly. He was at least as upset by the news as she was, but he wasn’t ready to drag Matt home by the ear like a naughty child. And that’s exactly how Matt would feel if his parents went after him, Travis knew. “He’ll think we’re trying to run his life. Is that what you mean, Pace?”
“I guess.” Pace rubbed the back of his neck and sat down on the sofa again. “The thing is, I don’t think he could take it if any more of the family showed up just now. He was pretty embarrassed when it was only me. If he saw either one of you he’d probably go into hiding somewhere and never come out.”
“So we should let him drink himself to death so he won’t die of embarrassment?” Daniella asked. “That’s ridiculous. Nobody ever died of embarrassment.”
“You’re right, Mother,” Serena said. “But so is Pace. Someone needs to go after him, but I think it should be me.”
“No!” Daniella and Travis shouted together.
“Why not?” Serena demanded.
“Tombstone is no place for a young girl alone, Rena,” Travis said. “It’s twice as rough as Tucson.”
“Besides,” Pace interrupted. “Clum’s there. He’s the mayor, if you can believe that.”
“John P. Clum?” Serena said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “The same John P. Clum who decided he could save the poor dumb savages from themselves by locking them all up on one reservation together and doling out tiny bits of food and clothing like he was God Almighty? That John P. Clum?”
“The same.” Pace’s lips twitched as he tried to hold back a grin.
“All the more reason for you not to go,” Travis said. “You know what he thinks of half-breeds. You won’t have a minute’s peace after he finds out you’re in town.”
“Precisely why I should go,” Serena stated firmly. “As much as Matt loves both of you, he knows you’re adults and can take care of yourselves. Even you, Mother. But as far as he’s concerned, I’m just his helpless little sister. He’ll be so busy trying to protect me from Clum and all the big, bad gunslingers, he won’t have time to drink, much less feel sorry for himself.”
Identical slow grins spread across each face in the room. They all remembered how protective Matt was of both his sisters.
“You’re right,” Pace said. Then his smile faded. “But he’s…well, he looks different, Rena.”
“How do you mean?”
Pace hesitated. “Just remember he’s been drinking for the past year. It shows, that’s all.”
“If you’re worried about me, forget it,” Serena said. “I got over that case of hero worship a long time ago.”
“Did you?” Pace asked quietly.
Serena glanced at her parents, then back at Pace. “Of course,” she said with a laugh. A nervous laugh.
Her telltale breathlessness may have escaped their parents, but not Pace. His eyes narrowed. “Rena—”
“I’d better start packing,” she said to cut him off. “I’ll have to leave early in the morning to catch the train.”
Chapter Two
Serena stepped down from the stage and tried to brush at least some of the alkali dust from the skirt and sleeves of her rust and plaid sateen traveling dress. The train from Tucson to Benson hadn’t been bad, but the stage from Benson to Tombstone was a nightmare. Someday the idiots in charge of the railroad would surely lay track all the way to Tombstone. She resented having to take the stage that last twenty-five miles, when a body could travel clear across the entire country by train.
Serena and the other five passengers from Benson had been packed like sardines onto the hard, unforgiving seats of the Concord. The stage had hit every single pothole along the way. The road was a sheer torture of jolts and bumps and choking dust. Walking would have been easier. And probably faster.
The exhausting journey had left her slightly less than presentable, but from what Pace had said, Matt wasn’t likely to be in any condition to notice. Besides, she was too anxious to find Matt to take time checking into a h
otel and cleaning up. When her bag was tossed down from the top of the stage, she carried it into the depot.
The young man behind the desk looked up from his ledger and straightened his spectacles. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “May I help you?” His voice cracked over the last word.
Serena smiled and asked if she could leave her bag in his office for a few hours.
The clerk scratched his head and frowned. “You’re welcome to leave it here awhile, but…do you have someone to stay with while you’re in town?”
“I’ll probably take a room at one of the hotels.”
The clerk shook his head. “After the fire last night, I don’t know if there’s a vacant hotel room in town.”
“Fire?”
“I guess you haven’t looked down Allen Street yet. This morning’s Epitaph says we lost sixty-six businesses.”
Serena gaped. “Sixty-six businesses in one fire?”
The clerk sent his Adam’s apple up and down again. “Yes, ma’am. Stores, saloons, restaurants, offices, and three hotels. That’s why I said you might not find a room. The hotels that didn’t burn had to make room for everybody who ended up without a room.” He shook his head. “It was really awful.”
Sixty-six? “Was anyone hurt?” she asked, thinking anxiously of Matt.
“George Parsons got burned up a little helping fight the fire.” The young clerk gave a negligent shrug. “Other than that, the only injury I’ve heard of is when some drunk had to jump out his hotel window and broke his leg. Guess we were lucky.”
Lucky. What an understatement. Sixty-six businesses burned in one night, and only two injuries. Serena shuddered. What an awful blow to the town. She felt for the shop owners, saloon keepers, and others who had probably lost everything they owned in the blaze. But there was nothing she could do. The fire didn’t concern her. She was here to find Matt. She left her bag with the clerk and stepped back out into the blazing sun.
After crossing the side street, she stood on the corner of Third and Allen to get her bearings. From there she saw the lingering smoke hanging over the town like doom waiting to swoop. Only the doom had obviously already swooped, even if she couldn’t see the ruins yet. What she could see were numerous saloons, several hotels and restaurants, a livery, what looked like a bank, three mercantiles, a bath house, and a barber shop. Shingles over several doorways proclaimed at least a half dozen attorneys on Allen Street alone.
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