The Deardons Complete Mini-Series

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  She glanced at the wall into the study. “You heard?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, thank you, Mr. Deardon, but you—”

  “Having said that, I also need to tell you that I have seen too many misunderstandings and too much pride destroy too many lives for me to stay quiet. No matter what happens in there, I am in love with you, Lucy Russell. I…I just needed you to know.”

  “And I need you to know that what I said before is true. You asked me to tell you if I dreamed of singing on a fancy stage. I don’t. You asked me to tell you that I don’t think about or want you, but I do.” She leaned in closer to him and stood on her toes, so that her warm breath caressed his neck. “And I’ll tell you what I told Mr. Tacy. I am not going anywhere…unless it is with you,” she amended, “the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.” She raised her hand and brushed it across his cheek. “I love you, Lucas Deardon.”

  Lucas kissed her firmly, then picked her up and spun her around, reveling in the sound of her laughter.

  “Are you two ready yet?” Sam asked, peeking his head out of the study.

  They looked at each other and Lucas held out his hand. “No matter what happens?”

  “No matter what happens,” she affirmed.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hank, wait,”

  Sam called after his brother, who’d stormed from the study.

  “Let him go,” Mara said, placing a hand on Sam’s arm, but Lucas couldn’t do that.

  He pushed himself up out of his chair, leaned down and kissed Lucy smack on the mouth, then grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and followed after his uncle.

  When he got outside, Hank sat on the bench he’d carved and placed under the tree at the foot of his father’s grave, his elbows resting on his knees, his hat in his hand. Lucas shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way toward him. The thick snowflakes fell peacefully to the ground and it felt as if they had stepped into a bubble that silenced the rest of the world.

  Lucas sat down next to Hank and leaned back against the bench.

  “You are very talented. I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this before. It’s beautiful.”

  “What do you want, Lucas?” Hank exhaled, his breath making small clouds in the cold air.

  “I want to know why you hate me so much.” The time for mincing words was over.

  Hank looked up at him, then sat up straight.

  “I don’t hate you, Lucas.” He paused for a long while. “Look, can we not do this right now?”

  “I understand that you’re upset.” Lucas was still shocked at the generosity of his grandfather, and he understood how Hank might feel that his inheritance, and that of his father and brothers, was undeserving.

  “Upset…Lucas. I just lost my father and I feel like I am losing my brother all over again. Yes, I’m upset.” He threw himself against the back of the bench.

  “I don’t understand.” How could he lose his brother again? He wasn’t even here.

  Hank pushed himself up and started to walk away.

  “Help me understand, Uncle Hank.” Lucas called to his uncle’s retreating form. He rose too, but stood firmly rooted to the ground.

  Hank stopped.

  “Don’t you need to get back to your ranch in Oregon? You got what you came for, right? Your inheritance.” He took another step, then turned back again. “Oh, and don’t worry, we’ll pay you for the house.”

  “You know, despite what you said before, I’m not like my father, Hank. I am here! Right now. And I’m staying.”

  Clickity click.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Lucas whipped around in time to see Gilroy Hearn step out from behind the old oak tree, gun cocked.

  Hank growled low in his throat. “How did you get away from Jeffers?”

  Lucas stepped between his uncle and the jilted groom, but Hank came up quickly behind him.

  “Now, you just stay put there, Hank.” Hearn waved the gun Lucas suspected belonged to Sheriff Jeffers at Hank, motioning for him to stay back. “I wouldn’t want nobody to get hurt. All I want is what your daddy promised me. You know, that girl’s dowry. And then,” he flung his hands haphazardly in the air, “I’ll be on my way. Oh,” he said as an afterthought, “after I kill this one, that is.”

  “Do you really want to add murder to your list of crimes?”

  “Don’t reckon it matters much now. Had you just let me marry the girl, none of this would have happened.”

  “The girl has a name,” Lucas spat. “And she’s too smart to end up with a hooligan like you.”

  “I know she’s got a name. Miss Lucy Russell from New York City.” He jerked his head to the side, preferably from the cold. “Now, just where is Miss Russell?”

  Hank moved ever so slightly behind Lucas. He had to be pulling his gun.

  “You might as well just toss it out right here where I can see it, Deardon. Lucas here got the drop on me once, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  Hank tossed his gun out onto the snow.

  “Hearn…” Hank paused. “Roy,” he was going to try a different approach. “It might be difficult to give you Lucy’s dowry. It’s the main homestead here on Whisper Ridge. That’s what she gets when she marries. I’m not so sure you’ll be wanting that after today.”

  Gilroy rubbed his chin between his fingers, considering what Hank had told him.

  “So, why don’t I offer you a dozen horses and enough money to start over? Anywhere you like.”

  “You must take me for a fool, Deardon.”

  Lucas watched every flinch, every shiver, waiting for his moment.

  “Not yet,” Hank warned in a low whisper as he stepped past Lucas, his hands in the air, palms forward.

  “Come on, Roy. Let’s settle this like gentlemen.”

  “That’s far enough.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a set of handcuffs, and tossed them on the ground. “Pick ‘em up. Real slow like.”

  Hank scrunched down to retrieve the restraints. “Where’d you get these, Roy? Where’s the sheriff?”

  “Let’s just say Ol’ Jeffers’ll have quite a headache when he wakes up. Now, you sit down right over there on the ground next to that bench. You’re gonna handcuff yourself to the leg.”

  “There’s no need for that, Hearn.” Lucas’s jaw pulsed with constrained anger.

  “I think there is. See, I take you down here and I’m a dead man.” He looked back at Hank. “Go on.”

  Hank’s eyes flitted to Lucas for a brief moment as he moved back toward the bench and he nodded.

  Lucas chastised himself for leaving his gun next to his bed.

  “Done,” Hank called.

  Gilroy flicked his wrist at Lucas, motioning toward the stable. “Turn around, Lucas. We’re going for a little ride.”

  As they passed by the bench, with the gun still aimed at Lucas, Gilroy bent down to check that the handcuffs had been secured. Hank came at him with a large fallen branch and cocked him unsuspectingly in the jaw, sending the man sprawling backward.

  Hearn recovered almost instantly, the gun still in his hand. “I warned you, Hank.” He pointed the gun directly at his uncle, his finger squeezing the trigger.

  “Stop!” Lucas screamed. “I’ll go with you, willingly. Just leave him alone. You wanted me. You’ve got me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gilroy walked up to Hank, still fighting to catch his breath, and landed a punch with his gunned hand in the jaw. Hank fell to the ground out cold.

  Lucas breathed his momentary relief that Hank hadn’t gotten himself shot. He looked at Hearn, his blood pumping fiercely through his veins, his temples pulsing violently, his teeth clenched.

  Do something! Lucas scanned the yard, looking for anything he could use as leverage. Nothing.

  Hearn closed the distance between them quickly, sticking the gun into the back of Lucas’s ribs. “Want to try s
omething else, hero?”

  “Just take it easy, okay. What is it that you want from me?” he asked as they walked toward the stables.

  “You said you were going to marry Lucy. She love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You love her?”

  “Yes.”

  The door to the stables was open, which Lucas found odd with everyone gone into town for the afternoon. He looked down to see Jake, tied and gagged, slumped on the ground behind the tall work counter.

  Snort. Whinny.

  Adonis and one of the mares they’d used for the Thanksgiving Day race had been readied and tied to the front stall gate. Despite his madness, Gilroy Hearn was no idiot. Lucas looked for anything he could use as a weapon, but everything was just too far out of reach.

  “Up ya go,” he said, holding the gun higher, pointing to a saddled Adonis.

  Hope filtered its way into the dire situation and Lucas mounted. Gilroy appeared to be an experienced rider, as he pulled himself up onto the mare’s back, the aim of his gun never faltering.

  “Easy now. We’re going to cross the bridge and head off Deardon property to the south.”

  Lucas kissed the air and nudged Apollo forward.

  “And, Lucas, don’t try anything funny. I’d hate for anything to happen to that horse,” Gilroy threatened.

  Clomp. Clomp. The snow crunched beneath the horse’s feet. Lucas waited until they reached the middle, then he squeezed his knees together signaling Adonis to rear. Lucas slid easily to the opposite side of the horse, effectively hiding himself from the brute. However, the action startled Gilroy’s mare. Her feet slid on the newly frozen wood and she bucked Hearn off, sending a stray shot into the air.

  Lucas pulled himself back up in time to see Hearn tumble from the edge of the bridge.

  He closed his eyes with relief. “Whoa, boy,” he called as he patted and rubbed Adonis’s neck. “Good job.”

  The mare Hearn had been riding, stomped and pranced on the fresh snow piling up on the grassy bank at the base of the bridge. There was no time to collect her now, he needed to get back to uncle Hank to make sure he was all right. He pulled Adonis around.

  BOOM!

  Adonis reared again, and Lucas slid backward, but his hands tightened on the reins and he stayed mounted. When he gained control, he looked up to see Uncle Hank running toward him, a rifle in hand, and Gilroy Hearn lying face down in a rapidly forming pool of his own blood, gun outstretched, pointed toward him.

  He could have killed me.

  Lucas dismounted, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his heart racing.

  Hank barreled into him, grasping Lucas’s body in his vice-like arms. He pounded Lucas’s back a few times before he finally let him go.

  “You said you’re staying,” he said as he sucked in a lungful of air, “and I’m going to hold you to that.” He wrapped an arm around him and patted his shoulder as they started back across the bridge.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s start with you calling me Hank.”

  Lucy couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful day surrounded by family and newfound friends. Whisper Ridge had been the perfect location for their wedding. She looked out of their bedroom window at the snow-covered ground, a frosty blanket of glittering diamonds and smiled. She was home.

  Lucas came to stand behind her, his hands running down the length of her arms, then he wrapped her tightly in the warmth of his embrace as they stared together out at the old oak tree.

  “Do you, Lucy Russell, promise to love me,” Lucas kissed her on the side of the neck, “to cherish me,” he trailed his kisses up to her ear, “and to honor me, all the days of thy life?” he asked as he turned her to face him.

  “I do,” she replied, as she stared lovingly into the catch-lights of his mesmerizingly blue eyes. The moon’s beams filled their bedroom with a soft winter’s light that contrasted beautifully with the glow of the fire burning in the hearth.

  “And do you, Lucas Samuel Deardon, promise to love me,” she slipped her cool hands beneath the fabric of his open shirt and ran them up his bared chest, “to cherish me,” she combed her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, “and to honor me, all the days of thy life?” She bit her lip and smiled.

  “Forever, my love. And always.”

  “Then, we, Lucas Deardon, will always be happy together. We are home.”

  THE END

  To sign up for Kelli Ann Morgan’s mailing list and receive notice of new and upcoming titles, click here.

  Noah

  Chapter One

  Laramie, Wyoming Territory, September 1868

  “Step away!”

  Kate Callahan had never heard her father’s voice shake with such scarcely veiled ire.

  Deputy Marshal “Big” Steve Long threw his head back and laughed with dark amusement as he swung down off his horse. His long, dusty coat flapped behind him in the light autumn breeze. When his steel-like eyes met her father’s, his expression had grown cold. A snarl rested on his lips.

  “You got nerve, Emmett, I’ll give you that. How ‘bout we give you some time to think on it? It’s a might generous offer under the circumstances.”

  “No need to wait, Long. I won’t be changing my mind.”

  The crooked lawman scowled, his thick, brown moustache twitching with the movement.

  Her father moved his hand to his hip, rubbing the edge of his holster. “This ranch rightfully belongs to me and my daughter. It is our home and I will not sign it over to you or any other common thug who may come our way.”

  Kate held her breath. She’d already lost her mother and two brothers to the fever. She couldn’t lose him too. With as much courage as she could muster, she stepped out from beneath the tree branch where her father had instructed she wait, and walked forward, linking her arm with his.

  Twelve dead ranchers, maybe more, had already lost their lives after refusing the short-tempered marshal. Kate had to make sure there was no excuse for the deputy to draw his weapon.

  “The marshal’s just trying to be a helpful neighbor, Da. There are a lot of ranchers having a hard time of it this fall.”

  “You should listen to your daughter, Emmett. Pretty and smart.” He winked at her.

  Kate’s skin crawled at his appraisal.

  “We’re just trying to help.” He tugged his belt up higher on his waist, the light glinting off one of the metal bullets that rested there, and sniffed.

  Bile rose up in the back of Kate’s throat. His conniving arrogance, coupled with his putrid stench, filled her with indignation and disgust.

  “We don’t need the kind of help you’re offering,” her father said. “Now, I’ve got work to do.” He raised a challenging brow.

  The marshal stared at him a moment longer, spit in the dirt, then tipped his hat and returned to his mount. Before climbing up into the saddle, he turned back to them.

  “We’ll be back for a visit.” The threat hung on the air like draped laundry. Kate shuddered, the hairs of her arms standing on end. He may have come alone this time, but when he returned, it would be with his half-brothers, Ace and Con Moyer—the so-called marshal and justice of the peace.

  The Callahans had only been in Laramie for just over a year, coming on invitation from a Mr. Levi Redbourne, a representative for the Union Pacific Railroad. Their stead had been one of the first erected and was far and away the largest and most elaborate of all the ranches around town—next to their neighbors’, Nathanial and Mary Boswell.

  Kate tried to push the worry of what the three brutes might do when they returned to confront her father. She had to be strong. For his sake. She tightened her hold on her da’s arm, pulling herself closer to him.

  “We’ll be waiting,” her father replied in whispered tones that only she could hear.

  They stood, unmoving, under the grand wooden archway, watching the marshal until he vanished from their sight.

  Her father patted her hand. “I best be gett
ing’ back to work. The cattle aren’t going to tend to themselves and we’ve got a few downed fences that need mending.” He turned and strode toward the barn. “And, Katie darlin’, don’t be forgettin’ your cooking lesson,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Kate groaned. She glanced at the place where the marshal had disappeared, shook the anxious thoughts from her head, then turned back for the main house.

  Although, Fannie, the family’s cook, would be teaching her how to make her flakey butter biscuits today, the kitchen was the last place Kate wanted to be. She preferred to be outdoors with her father, learning how to best take care of White Willow and its livestock, but she resigned herself to the inevitable and marched up the stairs to the house. Life was different here in the west and she resigned herself to the fact that it was time she learned how to do the expected women’s work.

  Someday, White Willow would be hers. She’d spent the last year watching and shadowing her father in his tasks and responsibilities—not that any of the hired hands would ever take direction from a woman. Still, she wanted to know everything she could about running the ranch and figured knowing how to feed them would be one more way for her to contribute.

  As Kate tried to focus on the correct measurements of flour, salt, and baking powder, she couldn’t help but to glance out the window to watch her father work.

  “Child, those biscuits aren’t going to make themselves.” Fannie pointed at the large bowl with her nose, her hands already immersed in her own basin of sticky dough.

  Although Kate was hardly a child at twenty-three, she recognized the importance for a woman in the Wyoming Territory to understand the basics of obtaining a culinary education—especially if she ever hoped to gain a husband—so she turned away from the window, determined to make another hearty attempt.

  She cut the butter into small cubes just as Fannie had instructed, then dumped them on top of the flour in her bowl. With a sigh, she shoved her hands into the cool powder to mix it together. The soft feel of it as it sifted through her fingers was cathartic for her restless mind. She pinched the butter, until the pieces were no larger than a pea, then reached for the cup she’d used to mix the white vinegar in with the milk and poured it over the dry blend.