Cherished (33 page)

From the doorway of the cabin came the tall,
redheaded figure of the cowboy she’d met at Twin Oaks.

“Howdy, Miss Juliana. Sure is good to see you
again!” he said, sweeping his hat off his head and grinning from
ear to ear.

“Gil!” Her mind whirling in confusion,
Juliana hugged him as if she couldn’t believe he was real. “Oh, Gil
... I don’t understand. How did you get mixed up with Wade and
Tommy? How did you find me? How ... Well, I don’t care, really!
What matters is that we’re all here—I can’t believe it.”

“Come inside, Juliana.” Wade, his handsome
face somber but his eyes lit with a warm glow as he stared down at
her, took her arm. “Skunk has supper just about ready and we can
explain everything while we get some grub. I’m sure you’ll have a
lot of questions—and so do we. Such as where Gray Feather found
you, and how you got those bruises you’re wearing.” Ever so gently,
he touched the faded marks upon her face. “It looks like you’ve had
a bad time of it. But never mind. You’ll rest first and we’ll talk
later. The most important thing is, no one is ever going to hurt
you again, Juliana. Not while Tommy and I are alive.”

“Oh, Wade,” Juliana gasped, still scarcely
able to believe that this tall, keen-eyed handsome young man was
her eldest brother.

Just saying his name, feeling the touch of
his hand on her arm, made Juliana’s eyes swim with tears. “It’s
really you.” She was babbling like an idiot, but she didn’t care.
She was too happy. “And Tommy.” She smiled a brilliant, tremulous
smile, drinking in the sight of each of them in turn and rubbing
her wet eyes with the back of her hands. “It’s a miracle. There
were times when I thought I’d never see you again.”

Wade enfolded her in a strong embrace. He
smelled good, of leather and spice, and he felt so solid, so real,
that Juliana felt all her cares fading away as he held her. She
leaned against his chest and closed her eyes, filled with an
exhausting relief.

“Skunk!” Tommy yelled suddenly, shattering
her tearful reverie. Juliana opened her eyes and couldn’t help
laughing as he grabbed ahold of the short, wiry little man closest
to the cabin and shook him off his feet. “Better whip out some of
that elderberry wine ‘cause we’re going to celebrate something
fierce tonight. My little sister’s here, and damned if she isn’t
the prettiest, finest girl you ever did see! Dancing! That’s what
we’ll do! Juliana, will you dance with me? Skunk has a fiddle, and
Keedy can call the steps and we’ll just tear this little old cabin
to pieces!”

Grabbing her hand, he raced with her into the
cabin and lifting her, spun her about again, round and round until
Juliana shrieked, caught between laughter and tears, and Wade
ordered him to stop. But Juliana clung to him after he set her
down, gazing with soft, loving eyes into his mischievous face.

“Tommy,” she said, tenderly stroking her
fingers through his gold hair, the same shade as hers, soft and
thick as velvet, “you haven’t changed.” Her voice broke. “Oh, thank
God, you haven’t changed.”

There were five members of the Montgomery
gang—not counting Gil Keedy—and Juliana met them all that evening
over Skunk Moses’ roast venison feast. And what a feast it was,
with potato soup, corn bread biscuits dripping with butter, beans
sweetened with molasses, elderberry wine, sugared coffee, and
peppermint candy for dessert. Her brother Tommy, she learned, had a
sweet tooth and purchased stick candy by the pound whenever he
passed through a town. Before she entered the cabin on Stick
Mountain—for that is what the place was called—she knew virtually
nothing about the young men who were her brothers. But by the time
that rollicking, festive meal was over, she knew a great deal
indeed.

Wade was perhaps the most astonishing to her.
When last she had seen him, a self-sufficient and intelligent boy
of fifteen, she might have guessed that he would grow into a
formidable man, but she could not have guessed that he would be so
quick-witted, keen-minded, organized and yet so daring that he
could mastermind the exploits and escapes of a gang of bandits that
had never once in all these years been apprehended. Wade, with his
deep-set eyes and square jaw, listened more than he talked, she
observed as she relished each mouthful of Skunk’s delicious
cooking, and when he did speak, his words were crisp, definite, and
well thought out. Tommy, on the other hand, every bit as bold and
brash as those long-lashed blue eyes of his would suggest, blurted
out whatever was on his mind, giving no heed to the consequences.
He was as blunt and direct as his brother was contemplative, but
his heart, Juliana saw at once, was open and giving, as big as the
canyons themselves, and there was never a hint of malice in any
word he uttered. Tommy, who had forever worn the same blue and
yellow plaid shirt as a boy, who had waded through mud puddles and
piles of horse manure without a second thought, was now a rake,
immaculate in his cleanliness and personal appearance, his hair
always brushed and slick, his clothing as spotless and as dashing
as he could find. Skunk told her all this while he brewed more
coffee, and though Tommy swatted the top of his head and called him
a dog-faced liar, Juliana could see for herself that it was true.
In his expensive pale blue linen shirt and silken neckerchief, with
his boots polished so brightly, he could see his own glossy
reflection in them, her golden-haired twenty-two-year-old brother
was as impeccable as he was handsome. A ladies’ man, Skunk next
whispered in her ear, with his lopsided grin spreading from one
side of his homely face to the other. Women always swarmed over
Tommy, he added, like hornets around a bowl of sugar— and Tommy, he
fell in love with them all, one right after the other, sometimes
two or three at a time—and then, lordy, the pickles he found
himself in.

Juliana listened and learned much from all
that went on at that rowdy table while the sun drifted lower in the
sky outside the shuttered window and plumes of pink and lavender
swept delicate arcs across the horizon.

There was so much to discover, to savor. And
there were gifts—after the meal, Tommy and Wade showered her with
an assortment of plumed hats, pearl earbobs, a fine silver
hairbrush, a jeweled reticule, and gowns ... a fetching,
daffodil-yellow organdy with narrow sleeves and waist, and a low
cut, seafoam-green silk with a sash adorned by pearls set within
tiny ivory rosettes, and a full, graceful skirt falling in
diaphanous folds over a cream satin underskirt. Wherever did they
find such creations? Overcome, she had merely gazed in spellbound
wonder at all these treasures. She’d been reduced to wearing the
same crumpled muslin day after day, and then this dreadful oversize
shirt and trousers, only to find herself now the recipient of
lovely and feminine items designed to gladden any woman’s heart.
The most touching part of all was the discovery that all this time
she’d been thinking about her brothers, struggling to find them,
Wade and Tommy had been thinking about her too. They’d been
gathering up these gifts, packing them in along with all their
other gear, and dragging them about the West just so they could
shower her with presents when they finally found each other again.
Tommy, seeing the glisten of tears in her eyes as she stroked the
silken skirt of the gown and glanced about at all the other lovely
things, quickly told her that all of these were just silly-little
trinkets, which they had purchased since Gil Keedy had told them of
her plight and they’d first started searching for her.

“There’s a whole lot of birthdays we missed
while you were growing up from a little freckle-faced peanut into
the loveliest girl ever to take the West by storm. We’re meaning to
make up to you for all those years we lost.”

She cried, throwing her arms around him and
then hugging Wade, clinging to them both with a fierce need and
longing for her family that was finally being answered after years
of denial.

“I have nothing for you,” Juliana gulped at
last, wiping her tears on the big neckerchief Wade handed her. His
eyes were moist, too, Juliana noted, though she refrained from
embarrassing him by mentioning it.

“You’ve brought sunshine back to us. You’ve
made our hearts whole again. I reckon that’s enough.” Wade looked a
little startled by his own sentimental speech, and ruffled her hair
to cover his own discomfiture. “Tell you what, peanut. Go in that
back room and put on one of these fancy new dresses. You’ll find
some other things in there, too—thanks to Josie.”

“Josie?”

Her brothers exchanged glances. Gil Keedy
started to say something, then stopped. To Juliana’s surprise,
Tommy shot him a glowering look.

“We’ll tell you all about Josie later,” Wade
said after an awkward moment when Gil and Tommy glared at each
other. “First, run along and fix up your hair and try on those
fancy earbobs. We haven’t had much feminine company in a while and
it’ll do us good to see you all gussied up and gorgeous.”

So she did what he asked, slipping into the
seafoam gown, suitable for a ball or the opera, ridiculously out or
place in this Stick Mountain cabin—yet, she wanted to celebrate her
happiness by looking her best, and to please her brothers by
showing off their gifts. The mysterious Josie, whom she wanted very
badly to learn more about, had left a parcel on the bureau for her
containing undergarments, shoes and a chemise, as well as hairpins
and a comb. The dressmaker who had sewn the gowns for “a young lady
of slender and perfect proportions,” as Gil Keedy had described her
(he being the only one to have seen Juliana in recent years) had
done an excellent job—the gown fit remarkably well, and she
fastened the pearl buttons across her bodice with gay pleasure.
There was no looking glass in the small bedroom with its straw cot
and cedar bureau, but glancing down at herself, she felt delight at
the sight of the cascading skirt, the snug bodice, the lovely sash
that accentuated her tiny waist. Next came the fine pearl earbobs,
and then she brushed and brushed her hair until it glimmered like
fire.

With her thick curls arranged in a pretty
cascade about her face, she at last emerged from the back room to
smile dazzlingly at the roomful of men.

Tommy was the first to speak, in a subdued,
admiring voice matched by the appreciative shine in his eyes.
“Well, you sure do look like mama. Little sister, I never thought
to see another woman as pretty as her—but you do match her and
maybe then some—no disrespect intended.”

“Bless mama’s soul, but I never saw her look
so radiant,” Wade said. He came forward and took Juliana’s small
hands in his strong grip. “She had a hard life and it showed. Her
eyes always had a shadow over them, even when she was happy, which
she was whenever Pa was near. But you ... Juliana ... you’ll steal
the breath away from every man who looks at you.”

Gray Feather nodded, his dark eyes shining.
Skunk snatched his hat off his head. “Yep, Miss Juliana, that’s no
exaggeration. You surely are a sight to behold.”

Gil Keedy stepped forward, his freckles
standing out in bright relief against his flushed face. “I never
reckoned a dress could look so pretty on a woman. I’m mighty glad
John Breen didn’t get his chance to slip that ring on your finger,
Juliana.”

“If you think you’re going to start up your
flirting with my sister, Keedy, you’re dead wrong,” Tommy burst
out, striding forward with fists clenched. “It’s bad enough the way
you keep dangling after Josie, but—”

“I’ll thank you to steer clear of my
business, Montgomery,” Gil fired back, “unless you want to step
outside and eat some dust.”

“Try and make me!” Tommy growled, his blue
eyes dangerously narrowed.

“Enough,” Wade ordered, shooting his brother
an irritated look, then shaking his head at the riled Texan.
“Simmer down, Tommy. And you, too, Keedy. I’ve had enough of you
two squawking like a couple of roosters over Josie Larson, and I’m
not going to let you spoil Juliana’s first night with us.”

“I think we ought to have a toast,” Juliana
interrupted hastily, alarmed by the angry rivalry she’d just
witnessed between Tommy and Gil. She was more curious than ever to
learn about this Josie Larson, but at the moment she felt it best
to change the subject quickly. “To the Montgomery gang!” she
exclaimed gaily. “To Gray Feather for bringing me here! To birthday
presents—especially late ones! Tommy”—and she bestowed on her still
glowering brother a brilliant smile—“you may pour. Please?”

Forming a circle, they all toasted, Wade and
Tommy touching their tin cups to hers.

Juliana stared around the motley little group
and wondered that she felt perfectly at home. In addition to Wade
and Tommy, there were Skunk, Gray Feather, and Yancy, each man so
different from the others, yet she felt as though she’d known them
all her life. Criminals? These men were all wanted outlaws, but
from what she had seen, there was nothing savage or vicious or
dangerous about any of them. Looking at Skunk as he downed his
second cup of wine, she couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone. He was
an odd, funny creature with a great talent for cooking—not at all
the kind of man she could imagine holding up banks and
stagecoaches. Skunk. So named not for any undesirable odor, as she
at first anticipated, but because of his unusual hair coloring, he
was a swarthy, good-natured little man. His thin black hair tended
to stand straight up on his head, and in one patch had turned a
pure shade of white. Gray Feather, the Apache who had brought her
here, was a mute—when he first seized her, he could not have told
her he was bringing her to her brothers, for his tongue had been
cut out as a boy when he had been captured by an enemy tribe.

Gray Feather, whose silken dark hair, sharply
chiseled face, and shining black eyes had so frightened her before,
became for Juliana an object of intense sympathy after this story
was told. But Tommy threw back his head and gave a shout of
laughter when he saw the compassion on his sister’s delicate face.
“Don’t feel sorry for him, peanut, he talks with his knife far
better than with any old tongue. He’s quick as a hawk, Gray Feather
is—he can throw that knife of his faster and straighter than a man
can shoot a gun. And when it comes to tracking, or covering up
tracks, no one is better than Gray Feather. He’s no poor babe to be
pitied, now, are you, my friend?” He said something in Apache that
brought a quick smile to the Indian’s dark face.