by Gigi Moore
There was no help for it now. The child was just one more thorn in his side. It wasn’t insurmountable. He would take care of the boy when he took care of Wyatt and his Indian friend.
Nothing and no one was going to stop him finally having Lily.
Chapter 22
“Hello! Anybody home?” Rusty entered the house a second before knocking on the front door and without waiting for a response.
“Don’t step on the—”
The warning came too late to prevent Rusty’s boot crashing down on one of Little Wyatt’s most recent gifts.
“What the?” Rusty lifted his foot and looked under it as if he had stepped in cow dung.
Wyatt bent to retrieve what was left of the toy tin soldier one of their neighbors had brought Little Wyatt just a few days ago.
The house had been filled with company nonstop since they had arrived back at the farm last week and shared the news of Little Wyatt’s homecoming with Thayne and Maia Malloy. Accompanying the constant stream of visitors came the gifts of toys, blankets, clothes, and childhood furniture—of both the handmade and mass-produced, store-bought variety.
It was all more than Lily or Wyatt could have ever expected and much more than one little boy could ever use in one lifetime.
Wyatt was frankly overwhelmed by some of the townsfolk’s generosity.
“I had to come by and see with my own eyes this little nipper everyone’s talking about.”
“Are they really?” Wyatt picked up another couple of stray toys and cleared a path as he led Rusty into the house proper.
“Is who really what?”
“Is everyone really talking about…our son?”
“I reckon he’s the talk of the town, yep, along with your Indian friend.”
Wyatt didn’t think Dakota’s novelty would ever wear off, at least not for the people of Elk Creek. He looked forward to a time when he, Lily, Little Wyatt, and Dakota could go into town without turning every head, but he knew he needed to be realistic for all concerned.
Being a father was nothing like Wyatt had thought it would be. He hadn’t reckoned it would be easy or all fun and games. Like his and Lily’s marriage, being the father of a little boy was work and an adjustment, not to mention a constant learning experience. Wyatt just hadn’t expected to…like it so much. He hadn’t expected that one little boy could make such a difference in his life or that he would love Little Wyatt so much that he could barely breathe sometimes for fear of losing him.
Of course, reclaiming and raising a little boy who had until recently been nurtured at the bosom of so-called savages was a unique occurrence for even large, more cosmopolitan places like cities back East, much less a small town like Elk Creek. Wyatt’s life, as a result, had been turned topsy-turvy to say the least.
“So, where is Little Wyatt?” Rusty smiled as if he liked the sound of the name and it made Wyatt smile before he had a sudden flash of Brand. His reaction to Little Wyatt had been a far sight less hospitable and generous than Rusty’s.
“What’s the matter?” Rusty asked.
Wyatt shook his head as if to rid himself of the unpleasant memory. “Nothing worth mentioning, I reckon.”
Rusty stared at him as if he knew Wyatt was lying. Finally, he gave Wyatt a one-armed hug and squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, you can’t please everyone no matter what you do. Little Wyatt is your blood and no one around these parts is more important than that.”
Wyatt nodded, surprised and moved my Rusty’s sympathy. He reckoned he shouldn’t have been too surprised. Out of all of his friends, Rusty had always been the most understanding and kind. Some took his kindness for weakness, but Wyatt knew better. He knew there was a core of strength in Rusty that his bright red hair and wide, easy smile belied.
Besides, he reckoned if he was having a time becoming accustomed to Little Wyatt’s arrival, some of his friends and neighbors would be, too, and act accordingly. He just hadn’t expected Brand to be so hostile to the idea of Wyatt and Lily’s son. It was almost as if he had a personal vendetta against the little boy.
How was it possible for someone who hadn’t spent quite five years in the world to warrant such animosity?
“Lily just put him down for the evening,” Wyatt told Rusty, eager to change the subject.
“I bet she watches him like a hawk since he’s been home.”
Rusty didn’t know the half of it. Lily was finding it hard to let the boy out of her sight for longer than it took her to cook a meal or tend to any of her other household chores. It was as if she was afraid they’d lose him again.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
However, Wyatt was finding it just as hard to assure his wife that they were all safe and sound together on the farm and no one was taking Little Wyatt anywhere. Maybe if he hadn’t failed to live up to his promises to her when he’d allowed some savage to invade their home and take her and Wyatt away from him, he’d be more confident about setting Lily’s mind to rest.
Wyatt remembered that look of panic flash through Lily’s eyes when he’d told her there was nothing for him to forgive. It struck him even now, so many years after her ordeal, and months since she had been home, that she still wasn’t telling him the entire story about what had happened to her before she’d wound up with the Kiowas. There was something off about her portrayal of the person behind her attack. Something didn’t add up.
“So, why Little Wyatt and not Junior?” Rusty asked.
Again, Wyatt shook his head, trying to purge his misgivings. Nothing good could come of dwelling in the past, as Dakota always reminded him. He had to move forward and look toward the future. He had not just a wife to take care of and think about, but a child.
“He’s not really a Junior,” Wyatt said.
“Not really a Junior?”
Wyatt perfectly understood Rusty’s confusion the same way he appreciated Lily’s reasoning behind bestowing their son with an Indian middle name. How did he explain it all to Rusty though, someone who didn’t know their story?
Rusty shrugged. “Oh well, I reckon you have your reasons. I just wanted to meet the little fella and see how you were adjusting to fatherhood.”
Wyatt wiggled one of Little Wyatt’s favorite toys back and forth in front of Rusty’s face and they both laughed.
“Yeah, I get it. My mama and daddy raised seven of us, so I know it ain’t easy.”
“We’ll survive.”
“That you will.” Rusty turned and headed for the front door.
Wyatt followed him. He thought twice about inviting Rusty to stay for a while to shoot the breeze, but frankly he was plumb tired from the last few whirlwind days of visits. If he never entertained or played host to another guest it would be too soon.
Rusty opened the door and paused on the front porch to hand over a gift-wrapped box. “It won’t make up for all the birthdays I’ve missed, but it’s just a little something to welcome the little nipper home.”
Wyatt swallowed over the sudden obstruction in his throat then quickly cleared it. “You didn’t have to, Rusty.”
“I know that. I wanted to. Let me know if he likes it.”
“I’ll let him tell you himself when he’s awake and you come back out for a visit.”
“At a more Godly hour.” Rusty laughed. “So, he does speak English?”
“Fluently, and Kiowa, too.”
“Wow, fancy that.”
Wyatt smiled at Rusty’s reaction, chest filled to bursting with pride as he remembered all the many interactions between Dakota and Little Wyatt and Lily and Little Wyatt and how smart and intuitive the boy was. He seemed to know what each of them needed and wanted at any given time, be it a hug or a laugh or asking one of his parents to read to him by lamplight before he went to sleep even though he could read perfectly well to himself.
He seemed to gravitate to Wyatt during the day, asking him questions and helping his father work in the fields. In the afternoons, he helped Lily with her chores like the l
aundry and cooking. By nightfall when he was all tuckered out from spending time with the adults and playing with his toys, he readily hopped into bed, still fighting sleep.
Wyatt didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky being blessed with such a good kid as Little Wyatt. It hadn’t been all smiles and good times, but it could have been worse if not for Dakota. Wyatt reckoned without Dakota, Little Wyatt would have been a lot less happy and pleasant a nipper than he was.
“Well, I guess I’ll be shoving off now.” Rusty hesitated as if he really didn’t want to go.
Did he want an invitation, or was something else on his mind?
Wyatt didn’t want to throw up the sponge, but after Brand and some of the other townspeople’s reactions to his son’s arrival, he was just plumb stumped about what to do. He had come to the conclusion that he didn’t really know all of his friends as well as he thought he did.
He must have frowned because Rusty stepped in again.
“Don’t worry too much about Brand. He’ll come around, I expect. He’s just got his own difficulties to worry about presently.”
“What kind of difficulties?”
“Don’t rightly know for sure. He’s just been acting a mite peculiar lately.”
Wyatt reckoned everyone had their crosses to bear and maybe this was why Brand had been so prickly when he’d visited. Maybe seeing Wyatt with his own little boy reminded him too much of the relationship he didn’t share with his own father, or maybe seeing Wyatt all settled down with a family was making Brand envious and antsy to settle down himself.
Brand claimed to love cowboying and being out on the range, footloose and fancy-free, but Wyatt remembered past conversations when he’d admitted he wouldn’t mind settling down with a filly—“Only if she’s like your Lilybelle, though.”
Wyatt had laughed it off at the time, but now…
Rusty’s slap on the back returned him to the present.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Wy. And don’t be such a stranger, you ol’ sodbuster. Come by for a visit sometime. My mama and sisters miss looking at your ugly kisser.”
Wyatt laughed. “I’ll remember that.” As soon as he saw Rusty out, Wyatt stepped back into the house and locked the door.
His gut bothered him something terrible and it was a feeling he didn’t rightly cotton to.
No sooner had he turned from the door then someone started pounding on it. A moment later, Lily came running down the stairs, glaring at Wyatt.
“Why on earth is the door locked?”
Wyatt just stared at her as if she was plumb loco for asking.
She sighed, puffing a lock of stray hair out of her eye. “You’re right. It’s just that I finally got him down to sleep and I didn’t want anything waking him up.”
Wyatt softened his stance, feeling bad that he’d been so harsh with her. He knew it was an adjustment for all of them having Little Wyatt here now and she hadn’t been getting much sleep constantly worrying about whether their nipper was doing okay or not.
It struck him then that he and his wife had some unfinished business to discuss, but before he could bring up the attack again and begin beating a dead horse as Lily put it, she hurried by him to unlock and open the door.
Dakota stood on the porch looking from her to Wyatt and back again. “Am I interrupting something?”
Yes.
Wyatt wanted to say it but didn’t want Dakota to think he was not welcomed. This was his home, too, after all, even if he was in total denial.
“The door has never been locked. Is all well?” Dakota asked.
“I guess I just reckoned we should start exercising a little caution around the house, especially now with Little Wyatt here.”
Dakota nodded as he came into the house and paused to take in Lily and Wyatt.
Lily closed and locked the door behind him then came to stand between him and Dakota.
“Is Little Wyatt sleep?” Dakota asked.
“Just fell off a few minutes ago,” Lily said. “Did you have something on your mind?”
Wyatt heard the hunger in his wife’s voice. He heard her plea for a distraction and wanted nothing more than to oblige.
Dakota had the identical idea and closed the space between himself and Lily at the same instant as Wyatt.
Wyatt took Lily by her shoulders and bent his head to kiss her. Her lips eagerly parted beneath his mouth and Wyatt swallowed her gasp at the same time he swallowed his need to know the truth…for the time being.
Lily placed both hands against his chest, spreading her fingers wide before fisting his shirt and drawing him closer.
Wyatt felt the desperation in her actions, as if she was trying to climb inside of him, as if she was trying to escape something. He knew the feeling. He had been trying to escape the guilt since she’d been taken from him, and once she had returned he had been trying even harder to earn absolution. He had yet to succeed, but he would not stop trying.
He drew his arms around her, pressing his hands against her back as he held her snug. He moved his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste her bittersweet need.
Lily pulled away long enough to catch her breath and say, “Not here. I don’t want Little Wyatt to…Let’s go upstairs.”
The words did something to Wyatt, simultaneously flooding him with waves of desire, denial, and frustration.
Eventually, his need for the full story overrode all others.
“Wyatt, what is it?”
He stood at the bottom of the staircase looking up at Lily standing a few steps above him trying to lead him up.
Wyatt glanced up at her, searching her face as she searched his.
He’d always known she hadn’t been totally forthcoming or honest about what had happened to her the day she disappeared.
Wyatt had allowed her secrets, told himself she needed time to heal, to adjust, to come to terms with everything that had been done to her. Except now he couldn’t hide from the truth anymore and neither could she.
The same way he knew Dakota had an idea about who shot him, Wyatt knew that Lily’s attacker wasn’t just any old “savage.” Lily knew the person who’d hurt her. He just needed to hear her say it.
“Who did it, Lily?”
She dropped his hand and put her hand to her chest as if to control her beating heart. “Who did what?”
“Who attacked you and took you from our home?” He watched her shrink away with every word that left his mouth. He wasn’t going to let her get away, not this time. Wyatt climbed the steps to close the space between them. “Who?”
“Wyatt, she cannot,” Dakota said.
“What? Tell me the truth?”
“It is not as simple as a lie or the truth.”
“Like your keeping Little Wyatt from us wasn’t simple?”
“Please…” Lily put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Don’t attack Dakota. He was only trying to protect our child.”
“That was my job, to protect you and Little Wyatt. I failed it once. I don’t want to fail again. Tell me.”
“I…I can’t.”
Wyatt caught her by the arms. “Who hurt you, Lilybelle? Who?”
“Wyatt.”
He felt Dakota behind him on the staircase but ignored him. He would get at the truth if it killed him, and the terrified look on Lily’s face told him that it very well might.
Wyatt shook her lightly. “Lily…”
She choked back a sob and the beseeching, tortured expression covering her features almost made him back off—almost. He couldn’t quit now. He would never get at the truth if he stopped now, and he deserved it. They all did.
“Lily, please.”
“Westyn…”
Wyatt dropped his hands and gaped at her rasp. “What?”
Lily wouldn’t say any more, just stood with her hand covering her mouth as she shook her head and stared back at him. Each tear that spilled from her eyes, however, was like another nail of condemnation driven into his former frien
d’s coffin.
“I’ll kill him!”
Chapter 23
“Dakota, don’t let him go! Stop him, please!”
Lily’s screams echoed through his head as Dakota crashed through the house and outside in pursuit of Wyatt.
He did not need Lily’s urgent shouts to spur him on. He knew how important it was to stop Wyatt. He understood exactly what was at stake.
Dakota caught sight of Wyatt approaching the barn and hurried his pace, racing across the grass and cutting a path around his friend to block the barn doors.
Wyatt came up short and scowled. “Get out of my way, Dakota.”
“I cannot let you leave.”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“Anything that concerns you and Lily concerns me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, so you’d do well to move.”
Dakota folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath preparing for his friend’s strike. He noticed the tic in Wyatt’s eyes, saw him tighten his fists at his sides. He braced his feet apart and bent at the knees a second before Wyatt put down his head and charged forward like an enraged bull.
Dakota caught him around the shoulders as he crashed back into the locked barn doors with a whoomph of air releasing from his lungs.
Dust flew up around them as they crashed to the ground in a heap.
Lily came running from the house. “Wyatt, stop! Don’t do this!”
Dakota put up an arm to block a blow to the head and used the slight distraction that Lily provided to flip Wyatt off of him and onto the ground beneath him. He straddled Wyatt’s hips, grabbed his flailing fists, and used his momentum to pin down the other man.
“Goddamnit, Dakota! Let me go!”
“I cannot do that, Wyatt.”
Wyatt bucked like a wild bronco, almost throwing Dakota off of him, but Dakota held on through sheer force of will and desperation. He knew he would not be able to contain his friend for much longer. Wyatt was a big, able-bodied man and he was running on a powerful mixture of indignation, fury, and hatred.
“Wyatt, please listen to reason.”
At Lily’s words, Wyatt’s struggles intensified. It was as if someone had waved a red flag in front of his face.
