Brides of the West (19 page)

Evangeline wanted to comfort Mac after all
he’d been through with Garrick, but John needed her immediate help
with Wolf. While John collected a couple of knives from her
kitchen, she undressed Wolf and bathed his bloodied body quickly,
taking care to clean each wound carefully. Mac brought wood for the
stove, then hurried off with a pail to draw water from the
well.

When she’d finished cleaning Wolf, she
covered his trembling body with a fresh quilt and lay her head
gently on his chest to listen to his weak, erratic heartbeat. She
wept silently. All of this had been her fault. If only she’d never
placed an ad in the mail order bride catalog, Wolf wouldn’t have
found her and she wouldn’t have led Garrick Payne to him.

"You
will
survive this," she
whispered. "I promise. You're going to recover and we're going to
be a family again.”

"E-van-ge-line.” Her broken name was a
whisper on his dry lips. "Forgive me."

"Oh, Wolf!” She kissed his cheek, her tears
splashing onto his face. "I should be begging
your
forgiveness. All of this is my fault.”

"I’m going to die," he said weakly.

"No, you're not going to die. I won't let
you!" she cried, furious that he would say such a thing. "You can't
leave us now, Wolf. We have to raise Mac together.”

He lifted a trembling hand. "I must talk to
John. My son, too."

Evidently John had overheard and rounded the
bed. "Right here, MacKinnon."

"If I die, I want you to marry Evangeline,"
Wolf began slowly. "She needs a man who will be kind to her. My son
needs a decent father."

John snorted. "Dad-blame it, Wolf. You're too
mean to up and die on us. Besides, you got your boy to raise now.
The good Lord ain't gonna take you yet.” John lowered a flask of
whiskey to Wolf’s lips. "Take a good long swig, my friend. Time's a
wastin' and this is goin’ to hurt like hell."

Wolf turned his face away. "No, John, you
must promise me—you’ll marry her and take good care of my family. I
must have peace."

Evangeline felt her face warm when John
looked at her. As Wolf’s best friend, she had no doubt John would
marry her in the event Wolf didn't survive. But she couldn't think
of marrying anyone else—not even a kind and decent man like John.
No, there would never be another man for her. She would go to her
grave Gray Wolf's widow.

"All right, buddy," John answered. "I give
you my word I will look after the missus and your young’un in case
you don't make it."

"My son? Where is he?"

Evangeline rose from the bed and crossed the
room. No sooner than she’d reached the door, Mac returned with the
water bucket. He’d been so brave throughout this ordeal. Still, the
thought that Garrick might have beat or abused him again tore at
her heart. The bastard lay cold and dead in her barn now, and still
she felt like storming out there and killing him again for
terrorizing her child.

“Come with me, Mac.” He set the pail down and
she guided him to the bed, but Wolf had fallen unconscious again.
She took a seat beside her son, who stood, watching Wolf. With the
exception of his straight dark blond hair, Mac resembled Wolf in
every way. He was dark complexioned, with eyes as black as the
midnight sky. He had the same stubborn-set jaw, the same dimple in
his right cheek—the one Wolf always denied having. Mac would grow
into a handsome man some day, no doubt breaking dozens of girl's
hearts along the way.

She took Mac's small hand and placed it on
Wolf'’s. "This is your father, Mac.” She fought back tears and and
added, "Your real father. His name is Gray Wolf MacKinnon, not Adam
Smith. That’s only a name on paper.”

Mac nibbled his lower lip. "I kinda figured
he was my real pa.”

“You did?”

Mac nodded. “Well, we look alike. My skin is
dark like his and we have the same eyes. You also named me Mac.”
Mac looked up at her with big, sad eyes. “Is he gonna die?”

She shook her head, then rumpled his hair. "I
don’t know, sweetheart. He’s very weak. We must pray for a
miracle."

Mac toyed with a loose thread on the quilt.
"So he really is my pa, huh?" He avoided her eyes.

"Yes."

“I’m glad, ‘cause I like him . . . even if he
did threaten to eat my turtle.”

She smiled through her tears. Even John,
who’d since pulled up a chair and was seated on the other side of
the bed, had tears in his eyes.

John cleared his throat and stood. “Ma’am, I
think the boy could use a bowl of warmed stew.” He placed the
knives on the bed. Evangeline realized it was an excuse to get Mac
away from what would likely be a gruesome sight. She nodded.

“I’ll get things ready here while you get the
boy settled down. Perhaps you might also tear us some clean
bandages while you’re at it.”

Evangeline did as John asked, then hurried
back to assist. She found he’d already removed the bullets from
Wolf's forearm and upper thigh and was now preparing to take out
the one in his side. She marveled at his surgical knowledge and
silently thanked God he’d been there.

She washed the blood from Wolf's arm, then
wrapped it carefully with a fresh bandage she’d cut from a new tea
towel. John worked at digging out the bullet in his side. Wolf
moaned as if in terrible pain, but he lay still. Every so often she
glanced at Mac to make certain he was all right. He’d finished
eating his stew, most of which he now wore down the front of his
white shirt.

John dislodged the last bullet, but the hole,
freshly re-opened bled copiously. She held a compress at the site,
hoping to staunch the flow. Once the bleeding was under control,
John quickly put in two sutures, then wiped his bloody hands on the
towel before handing it to her.

"I've done all I can do, ma’am. The rest is
up to the good Lord." Heading for the door, he motioned for Mac to
follow him. "I'll take the boy to my cabin so you can have some
time alone with your husband. Once he’s asleep, I’ll bury Payne’s
body in the woods. ” He tipped his hat to her. “I'll come back and
check on you in the morning, ma’am. If you need me sooner, just put
a lantern on the porch and I’ll come when I see the light.”

She knew from the look on John's face and the
tone of his voice he wasn’t certain Wolf would survive the night.
He was too kind a man and didn't have the heart to admit her
husband was dying.

An eerie silence settled upon the house,
except for the sounds of Wolf's heavily labored breaths and the
occasional scratching of doves that had built nests in the porch
eaves. She prayed Wolf wouldn’t linger for days, suffering horrible
pain or even gangrene and that if God sought to take him that his
passing would come soon. Although they had only known true
happiness for little more than a few weeks, Wolf had given the gift
of himself in their son, Mac. She could go on, knowing that a part
of him continued to live on in the world. She placed a palm over
her tummy and prayed a new life already budded within.

Numbly, she rolled up the blood-soaked quilt
that had covered him and set it in the corner for washing. Then she
bathed Wolf's ashen face, combed his thick, dark hair and covered
him with a fresh blanket. If he died, she would have John bury him
on the rocky hill beneath the stand of towering sycamores. She and
Mac would visit his grave every day.

Pouring fresh water into the basin, she shed
her blood-stained dress, then bent forward and rinsed Garrick’s
blood from her hair and Wolf’s blood from her hands. She sponged
the side of her bruised face and lips with a cloth dipped in cool,
clean water before pinning her wet hair up tightly on her head. She
turned around to look in the mirror at the red mark on her back,
the one Garrick had made with the riding crop. Never again would he
lift a hand against her and Mac—nor any other defenseless woman or
child. He was truly dead now, and the hideous past buried.

After her bath she dressed in a gown, whisked
a thin cotton shawl around her shoulders and took a chair beside
the bed. She watched Wolf for the longest time, listened to his
deep, labored breaths, his soft moans of pain. The man she loved
was dying and there was nothing she could do to save him.

Waiting for him to go was the hardest part.
She wasn't certain she could go on living without him. Even during
those dark years when they’d been separated, his memory continued
to burn brightly in her heart. The hope that they’d one day reunite
and live happily ever after had kept her sane in spite of the abuse
she’d endured at Garrick’s hands.

She studied Wolf’s face, committing every
inch of it to memory, promising never to forget a single detail.
Then she realized she didn't even have a photograph of him. She
hugged herself tightly, the tears bursting forth. The pain of
losing the only man she'd ever loved, the father of her child was
unbearable. She wished it was his arms holding her like this again.
She wished she would awaken and discover all of this had been a
horrible nightmare.

She clenched her eyes shut and prayed for a
miracle.

***

Evangeline awoke with a start at the sound of
Wolf’s voice. The room was almost pitch black, the oil in the
lantern burned out. Pink rays of dawn streaked the eastern sky
beyond the open window. Where were John and Mac? At first, she
thought she was still dreaming when she saw Wolf's dark silhouette
sitting on the side of the bed. She blinked. Was he alive? Perhaps
in her grief she was hallucinating. She’d seen it happen to people
many times before.

"Evangeline," he called into the darkness.
"Where are you?"

"I'm here.” She rose unsteadily to her feet.
Her heart pounded so hard with excitement she thought it would
burst. He was alive!

Wolf was alive!

"You must lie down." Quickly, she groped for
matches in the darkness, then lit the wick on the bedside lantern.
Tears of joy and relief blinded her as the room filled with light
and she saw his face. She swiped at her tear filled eyes. "Don't
try and get up, sweetheart. You've lost so much blood."

With her help, he lay back down slowly.

The moment his eyes met hers in the soft
amber glow of lamplight, she crumbled. She couldn't help it. She’d
not allowed herself to mourn for him, wanting to be strong in front
of Mac, but once tears began flowing, she couldn't stop.

Slowly, he extended one hand to her. "Come
and lie with me," he said quietly.

"I don't w-want to...h-hurt you," she
sobbed.

"It would hurt me more if I could not hold
you in my arms."

Gently, she took his hand and eased down
beside him, trying not to bump his bandaged leg and side.

"Why are you crying? Don't you know the time
for tears has ended?"

She didn't truly know why she was carrying
on, except that she was overwhelmed with a floodtide of emotions.
So much had happened in such a short time. The dark, ugly secret
from her past had finally been set free. Garrick was dead and Wolf
was alive. She sniffed hard and tried to compose herself, failing.
Another round of sobs shook her. He drew her closer, letting her
have a good, long cry.

“I’ve said things in anger that I deeply
regret now,” he said once she’d ceased crying. “Can you forgive me
for all I’ve put you through?"

She
was the one who should ask for
forgiveness. She snuggled closer. Rising slightly, she kissed his
stubbly cheek, knowing she would never take this man or her love
for him for granted again. Somehow, she’d make up all the lost
years to him. "I am the one who should be asking forgiveness," she
whispered.

He sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling.
"I know you've told me the truth about how your father forced you
to leave Texas, about his threat to kill me and our child...how he
sold you into marriage with Garrick Payne. But, I must confess what
terrible thing I’ve done. When I found your advertisement in the
mail order bride catalog, I wanted revenge for what your father and
his ranch hands did to me. That night, just before your father put
the knife to my throat, he told me something I have never
forgotten. He said I wasn’t good enough for you, that I needed to
go find me a squaw if I wanted a woman. But when I laid eyes on you
that day in Luling for the first time in years my heart melted. I
realized I was still in love with you, that I’d never stopped. I
was wrong to want revenge. Can you forgive my deception?”

Evangeline shut her eyes. "Oh, Wolf, the past
is behind us now. Let’s not dwell on it any longer.”

“How is our son? Did Garrick hurt him?”

She caressed his cheek and jaw with her
fingertips. “Garrick gave him a sleeping tonic, but other than that
he appears well. I don’t believe he harmed him.”

“I still cannot believe the man faked his own
death, changed his identity and stalked you all the way to Texas.
After getting me out of the way, he intended to have you again—to
take possession of my ranch.”

“Garrick was always a greedy man. He thought
of no one but himself, and didn’t feel he must be accountable for
his illicit deeds.”

***

Wolf shut his eyes. “Thank God he didn’t harm
Mac. The boy has lived through enough.” His hand lifted to her
cheek. “The bastard bruised your face, didn’t he?”

She covered his hand with hers. “Let’s not
talk about it anymore. The past is over.”

He nodded. “Very well. Perhaps I should tell
you of my dream—a more pleasant topic.”

“Yes.”

“Next summer a daughter will be born to us,
Evangeline. I saw her—a beautiful little girl with straight dark
hair like mine and blue eyes like yours.”

“You had this dream while you were
fevered?”

“Yes, but it is the truth. Her name will be
Lily. I need to add a room to our cabin and build a cradle.”

She sat up and mopped his brow with a damp
cloth. Secretly the idea of having a daughter thrilled her, but it
was too soon to think about. “Perhaps next summer
will
bring
us a child, but you should rest now. There is plenty of time for
talk about the future. Mac is safe and you’re alive. We have so
much to be thankful for. The past is truly behind us once and for
all.”