The Deardons Complete Mini-Series

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  “This is what wooden spoons were made for,” she said with an over-exaggerated frown.

  “You’ll be here all evening, Miss Kate, if you don’t just get right in there and knead it all together.”

  Kate looked down at her bowl, waited a moment, then shoved her hands into the goop and in minutes had it stuck together in a clumpy mess.

  “Perfect,” Fannie said upon inspection.

  “Really?” Kate looked down at her bowl again, wondering if she and the cook were looking at the same dough.

  When she’d filled an entire pan and had successfully placed it in the stove, she stood back, wiped her hands on her apron, and nodded in satisfaction.

  CRACK!

  Dread tore through Kate’s chest like a dagger as her head jerked back toward the window.

  Da!

  She clutched the hem of her dress and lifted as she flung open the door and dashed outside.

  Breathe, she reminded herself. Maybe he just had to put down a sick calf or scare off a coyote. But even as the thought passed, she knew it was more than that. Something was terribly wrong. She rushed toward the barn.

  CRACK!

  Another gunshot sounded a little farther away this time, and Kate looked up to see Dell, the dark foreman, firing into the distance. Relief washed over her and she slowed her pace to a stop, hunched over, her hands on her knees, and gasped for air.

  Those blasted coyotes were getting bolder as they gradually encroached in on the homestead. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest and her legs wobbled beneath her. As she pulled herself up into a standing position, a splash of color caught her eye from behind the barn. She moved slowly at first, making her way around the edge of the building, then she recognized the material of her father’s shirt.

  “Da?” she called as she picked up her step, newfound trepidation suffocating her insides.

  He groaned.

  He’s alive.

  She hurled herself on the ground next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ripped the apron from her body and shoved the material in a wad against the onslaught of blood exuding from the gaping hole in his chest.

  “Da…” her voice cracked. She sucked in a breath. “Fannie!” she screamed for the woman who’d followed her outside. “Go get Dell. We need him to go collect the doctor.”

  “Katie?” her father whispered.

  She looked down at him, wiping away the tears with the back of one of her bloodied hands. “What happened, Da?” she used the familiar Irish name. “Was it him?”

  Her father opened his eyes, a lone tear escaping the corner as he looked up at her.

  “I…I love…” he coughed, “you…my little Katie darlin’.” Blood seeped out from between his lips and dripped down the side of his chin. “I’m sorry…It’s up to you now.” He reached a hand toward her face. Kate held it against her cheek as he closed his eyes. His body relaxed, his hand falling limp in hers.

  “No!” she sobbed as she laid her head against his now still body. “Don’t leave me, Da.”

  “Miss Callahan?” Dell placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should go back up to the house. You’ll be safer there.”

  “No!” she screamed through her sobs, shrugging his hand off of her. She needed to still be close to him, to the only family she had left. She wouldn’t leave him. Not yet.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d lain there before the foreman spoke again, the warmth and weight of his hand returning to her shoulder.

  “I’ll take care of him, Kate.”

  A well of grief exploded inside of her as she shot a look at him. “Where were you? How could you have let this happen?”

  Dell’s eyes opened wide, the whites a stark contrast against his face. He shook his head and opened his mouth, but no words came out before he shut it again.

  She knew it was unfair of her to place this on him, but right now, she needed someone to blame.

  Deputy Marshal Steve Long. The name infringed on her tongue like scum on a pond. He was to blame. Thirteen ranchers had now lost their lives to his arrogant and hot-headed delusions. Maybe more.

  Kate’s jaw flexed, teeth clenched, and her eyes narrowed at the dirt just in front of the opened barn door. It was high time Long paid for his crimes and she would do everything in her power to make that happen.

  Chapter Two

  Oregon

  Noah Deardon pulled the hat from his head as he set a handful of wildflowers he’d clumsily tied with a ribbon down at the base of the stone marker where Persephone’s body had been laid to rest. He stood back and smiled his hello. Today made five years since his sickly bride had been consumed with the fever and had passed into her unearthly rest.

  They’d only been married three short days, but he’d known the woman nearly his whole life. Persephone Whittaker had been one of his best friends, and while he’d never felt more than friendship for her, he hadn’t been able to say no when she’d pleaded with him to not let her die a spinster.

  He hung his head.

  “You’d like this place, Seph.” He looked up and out over the countryside with its wide river and abundant trees surrounding the meadow where they’d played as children, and watched as the swirling clouds took on darkening hues of purple and grey.

  A crack of lightning split the sky. Apollo whinnied and pranced in place.

  Noah returned his hat to his head and with one last nod at the grave, sprinted over to his growingly anxious mount.

  “I know, boy. We’re leaving.”

  He made it back to the ranch just as the storm cloud sitting above the homestead broke and fat pellets of rain began to fall. He hurried to the barn and dismounted, heaved open the doors, and led Apollo inside. Though it was still early evening, the sky had grown dark and menacing.

  Noah heaved the saddle from his horse’s back and hung the tack on its appropriate nail. Normally, the methodic pounding of the rain against the barn roof offered soothing relief from his troubles. But tonight, a feeling of unease grew in the pit of his belly. As he brushed Apollo’s beautiful black mane, he chuckled to himself at how far his family had come in the last ten years. After their eldest brother, Henry, died unexpectedly after being thrown from the wild stallion he’d been attempting to break, they’d nearly lost everything. But now, things were different.

  Their once struggling horse ranch had transformed into one of the most successful cattle ranches in the Northwest. His smile slowly faded as he reached into the bushel at the far edge of the work table and pulled out an apple, holding it out for the horse.

  When Apollo greedily lapped it up, Noah laughed out loud, then reached into the bushel to retrieve one for himself. After a few attempts at finding one that wasn’t covered in bruises, he tossed it up into the air, caught it, and stepped out into the growing cold. He shoved the doors shut, water streaming from the brim of his hat, and strode toward the house.

  He paused as he looked up into the warm scene framed neatly by the square kitchen window. His brother, sister-in-law, and their four little ones gathered around the dinner table, aglow with the flickering lights of several lanterns they had fashioned as a chandelier that dangled from the ceiling.

  Jonah, his older brother and benefactor of the ranch, stood just below the lights with a grin spread wide across his face as he pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her smack on the mouth. The children’s giggles seeped through the walls of the house and a smile returned to Noah’s face.

  It’s time.

  He dipped his head in confirmation.

  What he would do next with his life escaped him, but change hung thick in the air. He’d already been at the ranch too long—even though there was no question he would always be welcome. He itched for something more. Something…someone he could call his own.

  Noah shook his head and with a whistle on his lips started up the front porch stairs, no idea how he would break the news to his brother and the rest of the family. Whistling seemed to help him sort things out.

 
Clank.

  He froze. His eyes darted back to the kitchen window where he could still see Jonah and his young family busily working on setting the table for supper. Gabe, his father, wasn’t due back from Montana for another month, so who would have need of the smaller carriage? There were only a couple of stalls in there, generally used by Jonah’s and Emma’s mounts. He glanced at the bunkhouse where all the hands would be holed up for the night. Several of them had been talking about a game of cards when he’d left for the meadow, but nothing stirred or appeared out of place.

  It was just the horses, he dismissed his concern and turned back for the house.

  Clank.

  There was no mistaking it this time. Someone lurked in the carriage stable across the yard. He eyed the outbuilding that sat just a few yards from the house as he held his breath in an attempt to listen more closely. The low murmur of a man’s voice carried indistinctly on the evening’s light breeze, barely audible through the clatter of raindrops striking various surfaces around the yard.

  Rustlers had been running rampant in the last few months and getting bolder with their attacks. By the sound of it, there was just one person moving around in there, but if he was wrong, the consequences could be disastrous. If he could get a jump on the thief, he’d be able to handle the situation without incident. He knew he should go get Jonah, but by the time they returned, the miscreant could be gone with at least a pony or two.

  One of the horses whinnied from inside the stable and Noah reached for the pistol at his hip.

  No gun.

  Blast!

  Noah padded across the yard, through the rain and puddles, toward the noise. He gingerly wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle of a shovel leaning against the outside wall of the stable. Grateful it hadn’t been put away, he stepped toward the open door and waited, his shoulder nudged up against the frame and his back all but touching the wood.

  Footsteps crunched against the gravelly dirt.

  Noah raised the shovel in the air. When a dark figure appeared in the doorway, he swung, but the culprit ducked before the large spade tool found its mark.

  Clang!

  The metal blade glanced off of the iron strips that secured the door. Before he could recover, the man had grabbed a hold of the handle and pulled hard, throwing an unrelenting Noah in a circle, sending him spinning through the mud as he stumbled, refusing to release his grip on the spade.

  Once he’d regained his footing, Noah wrapped both hands around the wooden stick and yanked back on the tool. He hadn’t expected it to be relinquished so easily and the overabundant force of his pull caused it to slip from his grasp and land near the base of the porch steps.

  “Blast it all!” he cursed the sliver now embedded in his palm. He shook off the momentary discomfort, his eyes affixed on his opponent.

  The intruder had fallen onto one knee, likely thrown off balance by Noah’s unexpected pull. Growling, Noah tackled him from behind, slamming him face down into the mud, sending his hat flying.

  “Noah!” the man yelled, lifting his head, his voice familiar. “It’s me.”

  The hat that had been stripped off the man’s head caught Noah’s attention as it dangled from the tip of one of Emma’s new spruce saplings. He recognized the big, black Stetson immediately. In the next moment, Noah found himself lying on his back, staring up at an unexpected face.

  “Levi? What in tarnation are you doing lurking about in the stable? Come to think of it, what are you doing in Oregon?”

  Grunting, his cousin pushed away from him, got to his feet, and offered his hand. Noah reached up to take it, struggling to stand upright. Halfway up, his foot slipped out from beneath him, knocking into Levi’s legs, and while they both scrambled to catch their footholds, they ended up falling backward into the mud.

  After a brief moment, Levi guffawed loudly and Noah couldn’t help but join in the laughter. A light appeared at the top of the porch steps and Jonah stepped out onto the veranda with little Auggie in tow.

  “Noah? Is that you?”

  “Yes,” he called, nearly choking on his water-drenched amusement. He sputtered at the wet clumps of mud that had splashed around his mouth.

  “And me,” Levi said with a breathy chuckle as he sat up.

  “Who’s ‘Me?’” Jonah asked.

  “Me, Levi.”

  One look at his cousin, mud splattered all over his face and his clothes doused in thick layers of the grimy earth, and Noah starting laughing again. He crawled up onto his knees, then climbed to his feet, then extended his hand to Levi, who chuckled, gladly accepting the help.

  Jonah shook his head and turned back into the house.

  The soaked and muddy men both glanced at each other and laughed even harder.

  “Come on,” Noah said as he slung his arm over Levi’s shoulders. His cousin mimicked the action, so their arms were woven behind their heads.

  “Oh, wait.” Levi leaned down, slipping their knot as he reached down to retrieve his hat from the branch of the little tree, then tightened up again.

  Together, they stomped up the stairs only to be greeted by Emma, whose arms were folded across her chest, one eyebrow raised—though it was easy to see her struggle to maintain her stern expression or allow the smile that threatened to break through.

  The two men dropped their arms to their sides and Noah quickly wiped the grin from his face, opened his eyes wide, and grimaced along with his apology for the filthy state of their clothes. One glance at Levi and he saw that his cousin had done the same.

  After a few moments, the smile won and she stepped sideways with a sweep of her hand.

  “Levi, did you get your horse all taken care of?” she asked kindly.

  He nodded.

  “You can barely call that thing a horse. I’m surprised you made it this far with that mule.” Jonah laughed.

  “Never mind him, Levi. I’ve put your things in the bedroom behind the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Emma.”

  “Wait,” Noah stopped at the threshold, “you knew he was coming and didn’t tell me?”

  Emma raised a hand with the smile of hers that said she was up to something. “Talk to your brother about this one.”

  Jonah, what have you done now?

  “Levi?” he called after his cousin who was already halfway to the wash room.

  “I’ll bring around some fresh towels.”

  “Uncle Noah. Uncle Noah. You’re back,” the young twins, Maxwell and Gilbert, ran to the doorway, followed closely by their little brother, Owen, but one look from their mother quelled their enthusiasm.

  “Not until he’s all cleaned up,” she said with an amused shake of her head.

  Each of the boys looked appropriately dejected. Noah shrugged his shoulders. Then, he held up a finger as if remembering something. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved a small cloth-wrapped package. The boys’ eyes grew wider as he crouched down and pulled back each flap of cloth one at a time. He was grateful that the treats he’d purchased in town hadn’t been smashed to bits in his tousle with Levi. When the last fold revealed several small sticks of hard candy and a few lollipops, the children squealed with delight. It turned out that only a few of them had cracked.

  “Noah Deardon,” Emma scolded, not quite able to conceal the smile that tempted her lips. “You’ll spoil their supper.”

  He stood up, thrusting them behind his back and the children all turned to their mother with eyes exaggeratedly wide, their heads tilted, and tiny hands clasped in front of them.

  Emma looked down at them, shaking her head, but alas, they were graced with another of her smiles as she sighed in defeat. “Oh, all right. Just this once.”

  “Yeah!” they all yelled in unison.

  Noah pulled the treats back out from behind him and fanned them out for the children to see.

  “You’re incorrigible.” Emma giggled. Once the boys had their chosen treat, she turned back into the house, shepherding the children indoors
. She stood at the door and looked back at Noah meaningfully. “Well, get on with ya, then” she said as she swatted at Noah’s shoulder, then instantly pulled her hand away, rubbing her fingers together and exhaling sharply with her nose upturned. “There’s extra soap in the cupboard under the window,” she called after him.

  Noah laughed.

  By the time supper was ready and on the table, Noah and Levi had both managed to scrape the mud from their faces, rinse it from their hair, and don clean clothes.

  The savory scent of newly cooked meat wafted through the air.

  Steak. Noah’s mouth watered at the thought. Bacon.

  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and his stomach protested loudly.

  “Now, where is that baby?” Noah asked, ready to hold the newest addition to the Deardon family—at least the newest for now.

  Lucy, his baby brother Lucas’s wife was due to have her new baby at the end of the next month. Noah loved the smell of clean babies and knew that Emma had just given Auggie a bath. He made a mental note that he should make the trip to Montana next month just to hold Lucas’s baby.

  Jonah stepped up from behind him and placed Auggie into his arms.

  Noah’s lips stretched into a grin he was sure consumed his entire face.

  Max and Gil stole a questioning glance at their mother. She nodded with a closed lip smile, but did not get up from the table. Their eyes brightened immediately. Noah crouched down, the babe still wrapped in one arm, and he opened the other to the young boys who immediately moved to tackle him around the neck with all their enthusiasm, knocking him backward enough he had to catch himself from falling. Little Owen, the three-year-old, hopped down from the table and joined in with his adorable giggle and short little arms.

  “Boys,” Emma called after a minute, “that’s enough. It’s time to settle down for supper,” she announced, standing and reaching out for her youngest son.