A Kiss for Cade (40 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

C
ade crouched beside the trunk of a hickory, watching the boys. Overhead, a songbird trilled to its nearby mate.

Brody and Will were on their knees at their parents’ graveside. Dirty tear-streaks smudged their faces and, as usual, Will’s nose needed wiping.

Rising, Cade walked over and handed the boy a handkerchief. “Blow hard.”

Will jerked away, swiping his sleeve across his nose. “Don’t have to do nothin’ you say. You don’t care ’bout us anymore.”

Cade knelt between the two boys. Brody jumped up and ran to his grandparents’ tombstone. “Look,” Cade said, “I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. Now come on. Let’s go back home. Zoe’s worried.”

Brody kicked a clump of dirt. “Why should we do what you say? You’re not our pa. Our pa is there.” He pointed to the fresh mound of dirt that held his father’s remains.

Will sat back on his haunches. “We come to say goodbye to Ma and Pa. Then me and Brody’s gonna be bounty hunters. We’re going to shoot people, just like you.”

Cade looked away. Bounty hunters. When had he ever encouraged that? “And where do you plan to do this bounty-hunting?”

“Wherever you do,” Will answered.

“And how do you plan on getting to where I go? On foot?”

“Brody knows the way. He knows lots of stuff.”

Cade glanced at Brody, who was staring at his bare feet. “That right, Brody? You going with Will? In your nightshirt?”

Brody refused to look at him. “What do you care?”

“Well, you may not believe it, but I do care. I can see why you’d be mad at me, but why Zoe? Do you want to hurt her?”

“You did,” Brody spat out. “Ma said you hurt her real bad once.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “But she said the good in you would come through someday, and you’d come back and make it up to her.”

Cade picked up a rock and threw it. Addy again. He was at a loss to explain why she’d filled their heads with empty dreams.

Brody smacked his hand against a tombstone. “You ain’t got no good in you. You came back just to hurt everyone again.”

“I think it’s time we had a talk.” Cade motioned for the boys to sit down. “You’re both old enough to know the truth.”

“I don’t want to know any ol’ truth,” Brody said.

“That’s too bad, because you’re going to hear it. Sit down.”

Brody kicked the dirt a couple more times before he dragged himself over to where Will sat. Cade pointed to a spot beside Will. Brody plopped down, propping his chin on his hands.

Sorting his thoughts, Cade took a moment. “First of all, being a bounty hunter is not what you want to do.”

“You’re one,” Brody said.

“And if I had it to do over again, I’d have made a wiser choice.”

“Like what?” Will peered up at him.

“Like farming or running a livery—or a thousand and one other jobs that would be a better way to make a living.”

He sat down between them, putting his arms around their shoulders. “I’d like to be your pa. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” Will asked. “Don’t no one tell you what to do. I hear you tell Zoe that all the time.”

“This is different.”

“Uncle Pa.” Will’s eyes pinned him. “If you didn’t have to chase that bad guy, would you stay here and be our pa?”

“I would, Will. I’d like that.”

“Then stay.”

“There’s this man…his name is Hart McGill. He’s looking for me.”

Will leaned into Cade’s embrace. “You can hide under Zoe’s bed. That’s where I hide from Holly when—”

“You don’t understand, son. McGill is one of the bad guys. He wants to kill me.” Cade wasn’t sure if the boys understood. “I can’t put you and your sisters and Zoe in danger. I have to go far away from Winterborn so McGill will never know about my family.”

Will squirmed. “He might shoot you dead?”

Cade nodded. “That’s what he’d like to do.”

Brody leaned back on his elbows. “I could shoot him dead, I’ll betcha.”

“Yeah,” Will seconded. “Brody says he’s gonna learn how to shoot.”

Cade shook his head. “Guns aren’t the answer, boys. A man doesn’t learn to shoot so he can kill another person. He respects a gun and the harm it can do. You shoot a shotgun so you can hunt rabbits. You fire a rifle to kill deer to put meat on the table. The only time you shoot another person is to protect those you love or good people trying to live by the law.”

“Is that why you like shootin’ bad guys?” Will asked. “To protect people?”

Cade ruffled the boy’s hair. “I don’t like shooting anyone, but I wouldn’t stand by and let an outlaw run roughshod over innocent people. That’s why I hunt the bad guy and turn him over to the law.”

“Or shoot him,” Brody reminded.

“Occasionally I shoot, but not unless he forces me to.”

Brody stood and walked around the gravesite. “If you showed me how to shoot a pistol, I could scare McGill so bad he’d run away and never come back.”

Cade laughed. “I guess you could, but you’re not going to.”

“I could try!”

Will threw his arms around Cade’s neck and hung on for dear life. “I don’t want you to be dead. Please, Uncle Pa, don’t let that bad guy shoot you. Brody and I will help you put him in jail.”

Cade stood, lifting Will with him. The boy wrapped his legs around Cade’s waist and held on tight as Cade extended his hand to Brody. “Come on. We’ll do a little target-shooting before I leave.” He should be riding out right now, but when he looked at their faces, he knew he couldn’t go, not yet.

He drew a steadying breath, cupping the back of Brody’s head with his hand and pulled him tightly against him. “Brody, you’re the man now. When I leave, I want to know I can count on you to see to the household. Keep Zoe and your brother and sisters safe.”

Brody solemnly nodded. “You teach me to shoot a gun, and I’ll protect ’em.”

“That means you won’t be able to leave to be a bounty hunter.”

Brody stuck his chest out. “No, sir. I’ll take real good care of your family, Uncle Pa.”

Will yanked on Cade’s sleeve. “Does that mean he’s my boss now?”

“Red’s the boss, but Brody’s your big brother. He’ll watch your back. That right, Brody?”

“You mean if somebody at school wants to beat up Will, I can sock ’em in the nose?”

Cade chuckled. “I’d try talking it out first.” He paused, and then conceded, “but if reason fails, sock them in the nose.”

The three males walked back to town in silence, except for an occasional sniff from Will to staunch his runny nose. Cade offered his handkerchief again. This time, Will took it. After using it, the boy handed it back, and then he fell into step with Cade, trying to match his stride. Cade smiled, realizing there had never been anyone who’d wanted to be like him. He’d have to be blind not to see how the boys looked up to him. He walked beside their short bodies, watching them kick dirt. He’d like to be around to see them grow to manhood. And the girls, he’d give an eyetooth to be there when suitors came courting, to make sure they were worthy of such treasure.

He shook away the thought. For someone who knew nothing about kids, he was taking his role as Uncle Pa awfully seriously.

“Hey, Ben!” he called as they approached the livery.

The blacksmith glanced up from his anvil. “Hey!”

“Me and the boys are going to do a little target-shooting behind the building.”

Later the three turned to see Pop, on his crutches, round the corner of the livery. Will ran to meet him. “Uncle Pa showed me and Brody how to shoot! I shot a bottle a hunnert miles in the air!”

Pop let out a belly laugh. “A hunnert miles? That’s a long way, boy. How’d you do that?”

Will shaped his hand in the form of a gun, his finger pointing toward a bale of hay. “Ka-pow! Ka-pow!”

“That’d do it,” Pop said, then raised his eyebrows to Cade. “Thought you were gone.”

“I am. I had this one last thing to do for the boys.”

Pop looked at the youngsters. “How’d you do, Brody? Your bottle go two hunnert miles?”

Brody beamed. “Almost. Look how many times I shot.” He proudly displayed the redness on his right hand, which was beginning to swell. “We can have rabbit a lot this winter.”

They turned as a carriage pulled up beside the livery. Cade hurriedly reloaded the Colt, relieved when he saw who climbed out of the buggy.

“Abraham!” Will squealed. “I shooted a bottle!”

A big smile split the old man’s face “A bottle? Now ain’t that some-thin’.”

Brody ran to meet him. “I shot a bunch of ’em.”

“I see a bottle ain’t safe in this town no mo’.”

Pop hopped over to the buggy. “What’re you doin’ back in town?”

Abraham wrapped the reins around the brake and got down. “Miz Laticia wanted me to bring this here big box o’ clothes for the young’uns. Said no kin o’ hers was goin’ round lookin’ like ragamuffins.”

“Sounds like Laticia,” Pop said, his gaze running over the big wooden box. “She musta bought out half a store. This crate’s big enough to bury one of Mallard’s bulls in. Sturdy as they come.”

“She sure ’nuff bought out half the mercantile,” Abraham said, “jist afore she come down sick as a dog. Now she’s got them red spots.”

Cade slipped the Colt back into his holster. “Laticia has the measles?”

Abraham grinned. “Doctor says she be laid up a few days, then she be her ol’ sef agin.”

Pop slapped the black man on the back. “And you thought you’d get outta town before she’s her old self again.”

Grinning, Abraham shook his head. “Now, Sheriff. I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ bad ’bout Miz Laticia.”

“You never do, Abraham,” Pop agreed. “She’s a lucky woman to have you to look after her.”

“No’sa. I’s the lucky one. Owes a lot to Miz Laticia. Taught me how ta read ’n’ write when she jist a young girl. Back then, wern’t looked on too favorable for a black man ta read.” He let out a hearty laugh. “Miz Laticia paid no mind ta what others said. Said she wern’t gonna have some ignernt soul drivin’ her round. So ever’day she drummed them numbers and letters inta my head ’til I learned ’em.”

Cade glanced at the boys. “Help Abraham get the box of clothes unloaded, and make sure you send a proper thank-you to Aunt Laticia.”

The boys jumped up into the buggy, pulled open the box, and rifled through the contents. Brody wrinkled his nose when he held up a boy’s blue velvet coat. “Sissy clothes.”

Will pulled out a pair of shoes his size with silver buckles. His cheeks puffed, holding them up for Cade’s inspection. “Do I have ta?”

“Miz Laticia don’t know much ’bout what young’uns likes ta wear,” Abraham apologized.

“The clothes are much appreciated,” Cade said. “Zoe can alter whatever needs to be fixed. She’s handy with a needle and thread.”

“You ain’t goin’ to try to haul that box, are ya?” Pop asked, glancing at Cade.

“Not me. The three of us can’t move that crate. We’ll have to empty it and carry the clothes to the store. Abraham can keep the box.”

“Don’t know what’d I’d do with such a big ol’ box.” Abraham scratched his head.

Pop smacked a crutch across the top of the container. “We’ll keep it. Someone might have need of it.”