Branded

by Vivian Vaughan

  “Remember what Yancy said, Jace? I told you last night.” His voice became gruff, reciting, ‘You know what you gotta do, boy. If they don’t get you first. You’re the only chance he’s got on this earth.’”

  Jacy recoiled at the words. Even though she had heard them before, they were ominous, oppressing. Terrifying. “I can’t imagine the terror you must have felt,” she said, half-thinking.

  Of an instant, his hand cupped her jaw again. His eyes drilled into her, desperate, demanding. “You believe me?”

  “I don’t know. If it happened, it was terrifying.”

  “Will you help?”

  She pursed her lips, willed her mind to work. Resistance swarmed inside her like wasps in a saguaro.

  “Hunter’s in danger, Jace. Think how bad. They set me free, in the desert with no money, no weapons, only the prison clothes on my back. Then they put out the word that I escaped. Now they’re accusing me of murdering Yancy.” He scoffed. “If you’d ever seen that giant, you would know how far-fetched that is. But the point is, if they can do all that, they can do anything they damned well please to Hunter. He’s locked up in there, Jace. He’s at their mercy.”

  If true, that part was the most terrifying of all. Hunter could be in grave danger. The quaking inside her turned to more shivers. Here in the hot, dusty El Paso street, a bone-chilling cold gripped her. She felt like she was in the Sangre de Cristos, lost in them, in the wintertime…alone.

  “Hold me, Trevor,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his chest, pressing her face into his neck. She felt his arms go around her, steadying, warming, supporting. “I’m so scared.”

  “Me, too, Jace.” She felt the heat of his breath as it blew against her temple, warming her, calming her. When he moved a mere inch or so, she panicked. When she looked up, his face was close to hers.

  Wonderfully close to hers. She wanted to kiss him. She needed to kiss him. She couldn’t remember ever wanting or needing anything more.

  Except for him to be innocent.

  Except for Hunter to be free. For her father to be well. For the family to return to their old way of life. To go home to the Diamond K.

  She remembered the night before. She had wanted to kiss him, then, too. And she would have surrendered. Fortunately, he had been interested only in retaliating against her for slapping him.

  It was a game they played, not to the credit of either of them. For right or wrong, they had taken the frustrations of the world out on each other. Trevor was the only person Jacy could recall ever arguing with, taunting, teasing. And he treated her the same way. With each other they had been free, free to act out their desires, their hurts, their frustrations with the rest of the world.

  Their relationship had been unique, special in a way it could never be again. Although she longed to resume where they left off, she wanted even more not to be hurt again. She would work with him to save Hunter, she must. But she would never let him break her heart again.

  With an inner sigh she hoped he neither felt nor saw, she dropped her arms and stepped away. “Papa is most lucid in the mornings. We’ll meet you at San Jacinto Plaza at eight o’clock tomorrow.”

  Jacy changed her mind a dozen times before morning, but always returned to her decision. She had no choice but to allow Trevor to talk to Drummond. Never one to believe in her own infallibility, however, she was quick to realize that if Trevor was right, if he was telling the truth, Hunter’s life depended on her taking this chance, even with her father’s mind.

  Her brother’s life or her father’s mind? It wasn’t the question of which weighed more in her heart. Her decision was based on which would be more easily restored. Realistically, her father could be expected to recover his mind, whereas Hunter had but one life.

  And Jacy had already pledged all her efforts, time, and energy to saving him. So, she had no choice, really.

  But she didn’t have to like it. The way Drummond’s face went pallid when Todd told them Trevor had been seen in town haunted her. What effect would seeing the man face to face, talking to him about Hunter, have on her father’s fragile mind?

  Jacy’s second dilemma that morning was in deciding when to tell Drummond, and what to tell him. Cowardly, she was tempted to let Trevor come upon them in the park, as though the meeting were by chance.

  But that was too risky. The shock could cause him to have a heart attack. She settled on a partial truth—someone, unnamed, would meet them to talk about Hunter. She waited until they were seated on his favorite park bench to break the news.

  “About Hunter?” Drummond thumped his walking stick against the packed-earth walk. His frail shoulders had perked up, but the man was still a far cry from the robust, aggressive Drummond Kimble of old. Jacy prayed she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “You know I don’t talk to reporters, Sis,” he groused.

  “It isn’t a reporter, Papa. Someone who may have fresh information.” That got his attention.

  “I don’t talk about my son,” he barked.

  “I know, but, well, this is necessary.”

  Stoically, Drummond withdrew pieces of stale tortillas from his jacket pocket and tossed them to the alligators. Jacy watched vacantly as the wide formidable jaws snapped up the food. She felt caught in jaws equally life-threatening.

  Drummond ignored her. The silent treatment. She knew it well.

  Then suddenly across the pond she spied Trevor. His appearance, expected though it was, momentarily knocked the breath from her. She was still not accustomed to seeing him except in dreams. He leaned against the message board, as on the day before, watching them. She felt that gaze burn clear to the pit of her stomach.

  Myriad emotions swept her. Temptation and desire, she stored away. Security, she rejected. She strove for indifference, but settled for uncertainty. Was this the biggest mistake of her life? Certainly, it was the most daring chance she had ever taken.

  She felt all wrung out, as Mama Dee used to say. The best she could do in the way of signaling their readiness was to shrug.

  That was enough. Trevor started across the park toward them. Each footfall resounded in her heart like a death knell. The closer he came the more she questioned her decision. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Foolish as it was, his gaze reassured her. As if he were here to support her, uplift, and she was no longer alone.

  “Nothing’s going to help Hunter, Sis,” she half-heard Drummond say. Although he had called her Sis since she was a toddler, the word had never filled her with such poignancy, with such a deep and desperate need to be the child once more, instead of the parent she had become, a role for which she felt so inadequate.

  Watching Trevor approach, she had to consciously suppress the urge to jump up and run to him, to lay her head on his chest, to feel his arms around her. Absurd as it was, she needed his strength, his guidance. She was entirely too tired and weak to continue to give and not receive. Even for one more minute.

  Absurd as it was. Here she sat, putting her father in harm’s way for this man. No, she challenged. Not for Trevor, for Hunter. It was all for Hunter. Right or wrong. It was for Hunter. She prayed she hadn’t made a mistake.

  Suddenly she was gripped by a second and equally desperate desire. To call the whole thing off. By sheer force of will she resisted jumping up and pulling Drummond after her. But Trevor was determined to talk to him, she argued silently. Sooner or later he would do it.

  Then he reached them. He came to stop in front of Drummond, his presence filling her vision. Determination emanated from his stance, his expression, his warm brown eyes.

  His nearness did startling things to the turmoil inside her. Her body hummed. His gaze penetrated to her every fear. Why had she been so foolish once, to play with his affections? Why was she being so foolish now?

  Pray God she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “’Morning, Jace.” He removed his hat, ran a hand through his brown hair, a nervous gesture that exposed the scar. The brand. She flinched as though he
had slapped her with that very hand.

  “Good morning,” she replied when she found her voice. Now it was fear that hummed inside her.

  At the exchange Drummond’s head snapped up like one of the alligators expecting a morsel of food. “You!” The old man struggled to stand.

  “Papa, wait.” Jacy held him down by a hand to his shoulder. Unable to rise, he thrashed the air with his walking stick, like a child railing against a stern parent, she thought.

  Trevor stood perfectly still. He glared at Drummond, showing none of the warmth he had showered on Jacy. Her heart sank. How would he treat her father? Couldn’t he see the man must be handled gently?

  “Papa, settle down. Trevor won’t stay long. He wants to talk to you.”

  “In hell!” Drummond turned on Jacy, eyes narrowed beneath bushy white brows. “This who you brought me down here to see?”

  “He wants to—”

  “You starting up with him again?”

  Startled at the question, Jacy’s eyes flew to Trevor. Drummond’s response had startled him, too, she could tell, as much as it had her. But he recovered more quickly.

  His lopsided grin set off a wave of flutters in her heart.

  “Answer me, Sis.”

  “No, Papa. This isn’t about me. It’s about Hunter.”

  “Humph!” Drummond swung his walking stick again, this time with surer aim. Trevor jumped aside. “You still trying to get that worthless ass of yours under my girl’s skirts?”

  “Papa!” Humiliation seared Jacy like scalding water from a tea kettle. In the last year or so she had seen Drummond’s polished manners give way to vulgarity from time to time. But never in her entire life had she heard him say anything so coarse. “How could you say—”

  In a swift move, Trevor caught the old man’s walking stick, wrenched it from his frail hand, and squatted on his heels before the bench. He glared into Drummond’s cold blue eyes. “If I ever hear of you using such vulgar language around your daughter again, I’ll break this thing over your thick skull.”

  “She’s my daughter, damn you.” Drummond glared back, unruffled by the threat or by Trevor’s proximity. “The only thing I have left, thanks to your treachery.”

  “I didn’t take anything away from you.” Trevor lowered his voice. “I’m not here to argue my innocence, Drummond. I’m here to save Hunter.”

  The old man’s flaccid jaws bulged over clamped teeth.

  “Hunter is in trouble.”

  “Take you five years to figure that out, did it? Guess you’re sorrier than I thought.”

  Jacy’s embarrassment gave way to despair. “Papa, stop insulting us and listen. Trevor has some things to say. Frightening things. We have to decide how to help Hunter.”

  “Nothing we can do for Hunter,” Drummond spat. “Not a damned thing.”

  “I’m not ready to give up,” Trevor responded tersely.

  “You don’t count.”

  Jacy turned from one bow-necked man to the other, sorry she had agreed to this meeting. Drummond seemed more interested in whether she was sleeping with Trevor than in anything concerning Hunter. Which, she realized, was additional evidence of his decaying mind.

  “I counted very much at one time,” Trevor was saying. “If it hadn’t been for me, who would you have pinned that murder on?”

  Drummond glared toward the alligator pond, stoically ignoring Trevor.

  “That’s what you did, isn’t it?” Trevor demanded. “‘Convict this innocent man,’ you told them, ‘hang him if you will, but let my son live.’”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I’m planning to learn, and fast. First, I intend to find out why someone set me free.”

  Drummond stiffened beside Jacy. Turning her full attention to him, she wondered at the change. He sat to full height; his blue eyes were clear for the first time in recent memory. He was fighting mad, an old reaction, comforting in its familiarity.

  “The truth came out in court,” he told Trevor tersely. “I have nothing else to say. You have done enough damage to this family. Now leave us—”

  Trevor expelled his frustration in an angry breath. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out. The rumor in prison is that Hunter is scheduled to hang at the end of the month.”

  Even though she had heard Trevor’s claim before, the words, spoken into the clear morning air, struck Jacy like a boulder rolling down from Mount Franklin.

  “Rumor,” Drummond dismissed.

  “In places like Yuma, rumors are grounded in fact.”

  “Rumor,” Drummond spat again. “Nothing more.”

  “Why won’t you cooperate?” Trevor demanded. “This is your son we’re talking about. He is scheduled to hang.”

  “He is not,” Drummond said furiously, then added, “Families are advised of such matters.” He suddenly began to cast his eyes this way and that. “But you are going back to Yuma as soon as I locate that no-account constable.”

  Alarm seized Jacy. She reached for him. “No, Papa.”

  Trevor continued as though Drummond had never uttered the threat. “You sold me off to save your son’s life?”

  “I did no such thing,” Drummond spat. “You made your own bed. In more damn ways than one.”

  “I wasn’t seeing Ana.” Trevor turned to Jacy. The look he gave her was pure longing. “And I never harmed Jacy.”

  “Your presence harms her,” Drummond seethed.

  “Then help me,” Trevor pled. “Tell me who to talk to. Give me leads. Who did you make the deal with? Help me save Hunter, Drummond, and I’ll be gone before you can swing this walking stick again.”

  Drummond pursed his weathered lips and glared in the direction of the pond.

  “Help me,” Trevor pleaded again. “Hunter is the best friend I ever had. I don’t want to see him hang.” When Drummond remained silent, Trevor added bitterly, “Even if you do.”

  Jacy watched Drummond flinch again. “I don’t need some worthless scum like you telling me what I want and don’t want. My son is as good as dead. And you’re to blame. If you hadn’t come along, he wouldn’t be in prison for the rest of his natural life. Do you hear me? If you hadn’t been so hot for my daughter, if you hadn’t latched onto my son like you were good enough to mix with him, none of this would have happened.”

  “I fail to see how my worthiness or unworthiness killed Ana Bowdrie. That’s what Hunter and I were convicted of. Neither of us killed her.” He leaned closer. For a minute Jacy thought he intended to grab her father by the collar. “Listen to me, old man. I did not kill Ana. If you want your son to live, you had better tell what you know about the whole sordid mess, and quick.”

  “My son will never hang.”

  “Don’t be so certain. Someone let me out of prison to dig into this, and I intend to do just that.”

  Drummond glared hard at Trevor.

  “Someone had me set free in the middle of the night. Do you want to hear the last words that guard said to me? ‘You’re the only chance he’s got on this earth.’ That’s what the guard said, Drummond. He meant Hunter. It’s time you stopped blustering your way through this mess and help Jacy and me find a way to save your son.”

  “I warn you, Fallon. Stay away from my daughter.”

  “And let Hunter hang?”

  Drummond’s blue eyes flashed.

  Trevor shrugged. “It’s the truth. You know it, and I know it. Hunter will hang. My guess is by the end of the month. Together we might be able to save him.” He lowered his voice to plead. “What do you say? Give me names, facts, anything. You don’t have to return to Arizona. I will. I’ll be your legs. I’ll do your dirty work. I’ll do whatever it takes to save Hunter.”

  Trevor stopped, inhaled a deep lungful of air, then looked at Jacy. She had never seen such desperation in a man.

  Holding her gaze, he added to Drummond, “As soon as Hunter is free, sir, you have my pledge. I’ll get out of your life and stay out.
You won’t have to worry about Jace. I’ll be long gone.”

  Jacy was reminded of the time she went to Mass with Mari on Good Friday and heard the story about the nails being pounded in the hands of Jesus. Each nail hit its mark; each killed something deep inside her.

  For a moment she thought Drummond might give in. He looked from Trevor to Jacy in what was certainly his first attempt to communicate with either of them since Trevor approached. Then his eyes glazed over. Jacy felt him tense again. His back arched. His head snapped up. His blue eyes turned to stone. Lapis, she thought.

  Taking both Jacy and Trevor by surprise, he stood and began to shout. “Here! Here! Arrest this man! Call the constable! Arrest this man!”

  “Go,” Jacy cried to Trevor. For a split second, she didn’t think he would move. “I’ll calm him down,” she pleaded. “Go. It won’t do anyone any good for you to get caught.”

  Still he stared at her. “Hardin’s office,” he said finally. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Five

  Jacy felt betrayed. Angry, bewildered, and betrayed. For five years she had defended her father, and more, she protected him, made excuses for him, put his needs above her own, above everyone else’s in the family, always mindful of his tremendous loss—not only the loss of his son, but of his ranch and his political aspirations, indeed, of his very way of life. And of Ana Bowdrie. Drummond had cared for Ana. And now she was dead.

  What man wouldn’t break under such pressure? She had made excuses for him. Even a man as strong as Drummond Kimble?

  For five years she had assumed the role of caregiver for her father and her brother’s family. She loved them, every one. She wouldn’t let them down for anything in the world, although in the beginning she had been far from prepared for such weighty responsibilities.

  Indeed, more often than not during these last five years Jacy had felt like she was searching in the dark for answers that did not exist. Not that she performed her duties without complaint. She was the first to acknowledge that she was hard to get along with.