Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (26 page)

In front of the house, a ragged gang of boys circled his daughter, dancing a pagan tribute to evil. Their yells and whistles cut into his heart. He recognized the Cassidy twins among those monsters, and rage roared through him.

“Pa!” Christine screamed, stretching her arms out in appeal. The wind caught her unbound hair, sending the tresses flying. Sparks flicked around her. “Pa!”

“Christine!” He yelled back, fighting to go to her. But the agony in his body held him fast. The smoke burned his lungs, setting him to coughing, and stung his eyes. Tears obscured his vision.

The macabre dance sped up until the figures blurred.

Flames swept from the house, igniting the brittle summer grass. The fire engulfed the children, catching their clothing. They lit up like torches. Their screams pierced the night.

He groaned in anguish. “No, no. Christine, my baby.”

The flames died.

His beloved daughter lay on the ground, a charred skeleton.

Sobs wrenched from his throat, waking him.

Wyatt shuddered and catapulted to a sitting position, his heart thudding so hard, he could barely breathe. Shivers rocked his body; his skin turned clammy. He leaped out of bed, needing to run to his daughter’s room and clasp her to him. Then he remembered. Christine was at Samantha’s house.
Safe.

With a shudder, he sank back onto his bed and buried his face in his hands.

A few days later, Jack and Tim wandered to the back of the schoolhouse, looking for Daniel. The sound of voices brought them up short.

“You’re nothing but a half-breed Mexican. Think you’re so smart with your midget horses.”

Through the lilac bushes screening the rickety school outhouse, Jack recognized the voice of Ben Grayson. He peered
through the green leaves, tiny withered blossoms showering across his face. With a rush of anger Jack realized—that Boston nose-in-the-air was pickin’ on Daniel.

His twin came up behind him. Jack pulled his head out of the leaves and placed his hand on Tim’s arm to stop his brother from giving away their presence.

“Think we need ta take ya down a peg,” Arlie Sloan’s gravelly tone threatened. “Maybe a visit in the stinkpot will do ya good.”

Arlie Sloan, the school bully.
Two years older than the twins and still learnin’ with the little ones. Thick body and thick head. Mean to the young ’uns, but he left the twins alone. Knew better than to tangle with the two of them. Always “yes, ma’am” to the teacher, but out of her sight, Arlie could create a heap of trouble for anyone sorry enough to cross him.

Anger flared higher. He’d had enough of bullying from his pa. Never could do nothin’ about that—just take the heavy fist or run away. But this was different. He wasn’t goin’ to let Arlie and Ben pick on the younger boy.

He backed away from the bushes, gulped in a breath of the midden-smelling air, and exchanged a glance with Tim. No need for words. His twin understood.

Tim snuck around one side of the lilacs. Jack took the other, sauntering over to where Ben and Arlie backed Daniel against the outhouse. Arlie grabbed one side of Daniel’s gray jacket, twisting it in his fist, and lifting the boy to his toes.

Daniel’s slanty eyebrows raised so high in fear, Jack thought they might disappear into his hair. He didn’t turn his head, but his panicked blue eyes appealed to Jack for help.

That look lassoed Jack right in. “Take your hands off him,” he growled.

Arlie looked over his shoulder at Jack, his narrow-set brown eyes squinting, but he didn’t release his grip. “Stay out of this.”

“I said, let go of him!”

Arlie laughed. “Ya goin’ ta make me?”

“Yep, if I have ta.”

On the boys’ right, Tim edged closer.

Ben stepped between Arlie and Jack. His blue suit looked as neat as if it were Sunday morning. He stared at Jack, narrowing those calf eyes of his. “I really do think you should keep out of this, Cassidy. We’re just having a little fun.”

“Pick on someone who’s big enough ta stand up to ya.”

Ben raised an eyebrow in a way that made Jack want to rip it off his face. “What business is it of yours?”

“He’s my brother.” The words washed out in a gust of feeling, surprising him with their truth. Somewhere along the road, Daniel had become a brother. Not a twin like Tim, but a brother anyway.

Arlie laughed. “Then you’re a half-breed Mexican too.”

In a surprise move, Daniel kicked Arlie in the knee.

“Hey.” The older boy let go of Daniel’s shirt, dropping him, then recovered, punching him in the stomach.

When Dan doubled over, Jack sprang at Arlie’s back, snaking an elbow around his neck and pressing his arm tight against the bigger boy’s windpipe.

Ben yanked at Jack’s arm. “Get off him.”

Tim ran over, spun Ben around, and socked him in the eye.

“Ow,” Ben howled, covering his eye and tottering back a step.

Daniel bent his knees and slithered out of Arlie’s grasp.

The bigger boy made a grab for him at the same time Jack, in an attempt to aid Daniel’s escape, pushed him from behind. Arlie tripped over Daniel’s foot. He flew forward, throwing one arm at
Ben in an effort to stay upright. Both boys lost their balance and fell against the flimsy walls of the outhouse.

With snaps of splintering wood, the outhouse collapsed, Ben and Arlie sprawling on top of the remains.

Jack exchanged an amused look with Tim and draped a brotherly arm around Daniel’s shoulders.

“Ugh.” Ben elbowed Arlie. “Get off me.”

Miss Stanton rounded the corner of the schoolhouse building. When she saw them, a look of horror crossed her face. She hitched up her green skirt and ran over. “Boys, what’s happened? Are you all right?”

Ben crawled out from under Arlie. With an air of hauteur, he straightened his suit jacket, started to brush at some damp stains, then stopped, his hand hovering over his clothes. “They attacked us, Miss Stanton.” He nodded at the twins and Daniel. His calf eyes looked oh-so-innocent. “Assaulted us and”—he pointed at the ruins of the outhouse—“destroyed public property.”

Miss Stanton’s usually kind gray eyes sharpened. The glance she threw at Jack cut. He’d never seen her look so angry.

Best face up to her.
“They ’uns were pickin’ on Dan, here. Tim and I just set out to stop ’em.”

“I cannot believe you boys. Being mean to each other. Fighting. I will
not
tolerate such behavior. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all chorused.

She crossed her arms in front of her. The movement fluttered the froth of lace she’d pinned to the neck of her dress like a butterfly. But no butterfly gentleness reflected on her face. “I expect to see all of your parents after school tomorrow. But I do not intend to see you. All five of you are suspended for the rest of the week.”

Ben stepped forward. “But Miss Stanton—”

“You’ve heard me, Ben. Go home, all of you!”

Like putting on a new suit of clothes, Ben changed from indignant to innocent, acquiring the air of an injured puppy dog.

Jack wanted to kick his feet out from under him.

Miss Stanton’s eyes lost their knife edge. But she kept her arms crossed, waiting for them to leave.

With a jerk of his head, Jack summoned Tim. The two of them walked around the bushes, heading toward the stable, saying nothing. But with the silent communication common to them, Jack sensed the worry in Tim. And underneath Jack’s own feeling of frustration and injustice, fear simmered, pinching his muscles tight. Would this be the problem that finally caused Miz Samantha to wash her hands of them?

Samantha stepped out onto the porch of her house, shading her eyes with one hand. She stared past the bridge over the river, down the empty dirt road. A hawk glided overhead, drifting through the turquoise sky, then settling into a tall pine tree at the edge of the water. Everything seemed peaceable. But worry pricked at her like pins stuck into a pincushion. The boys were late getting home from school.

She could think of half a dozen reasonable explanations for their absence, but her mind refused to steady. To occupy herself, she marched into the kitchen for a bowl of peas needing to be shelled and carried it out to the porch.

Perching on the edge of the rocker, she dumped the contents of the wooden bowl into her gray apron, picked up the first pod, and peeled it open. Normally, she snuck a few peas to snack on. She loved the sweet, crunchy taste of the raw ones, but today she didn’t bother.

Her thoughts drifted to Wyatt, and she wished he were here to confide in. She’d been afraid of allowing him into her life, of coming to depend on him. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand on her own two feet—take care of herself and her boys—but…She remembered the comfort she took in his presence, the passion that flared between them. With his kisses, his touch, her heart had opened up to him.

She hadn’t seen him for three days.

When Doc Cameron had decreed Christine fit to travel, Wyatt had thanked Samantha and taken his daughter home. Every day since, Sam had tried to keep busy, forcing herself not to stop on the porch or in the yard to scan the road for him riding to her. Now here she was, vulnerable, just like she’d feared. She needed to harden herself to him. But how? How did one heal a hurting heart? Time going by?

Savagely, Samantha ripped open a pod, releasing the crisp, green scent. A pea skittered across the porch and bounced off into the dirt.

She remembered the agony of Juan Carlos’s death. It had been a sharp, stabbing grief, compounded by the death of her parents. The mourning started as she held his body in her arms and kissed him for the final time. Over the past two years, the loss had mellowed to a pain in her heart that would always be there. But how would she learn to live with the hurt of caring about a man who had turned away from her? How could she still see him and not have feelings?

Samantha finished most of the bowl before she saw the boys ride around the bend in the road, Daniel in the lead on his gray gelding. She slid back into the rocker in initial relief. But her unease didn’t fade.

Fumbling the remainder of the shells open, she popped out the peas, then gathered the corners of her apron together and hurried into the kitchen. She set the bowl down on the oilcloth-covered table, then released her apron and let the pods fall into the bucket kept for waste scraps.

Hurrying back outside, she waved the boys to come over to the porch instead of riding to the barn. Close-up, she could see by the looks on their faces—Daniel’s eyebrows raised in
distress and the sullenness of the twins—that something had happened.

“You boys all right?”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, Mama.” In a jerky motion, he slid off his gelding, looping the reins around the porch rail. Then he scrambled up the steps and flung himself at her for a long hug.

Samantha’s concern increased, and she wrapped her arms around Daniel’s thin shoulders. Although he’d always been an affectionate child, her son lately had been doing the ah-mama-don’t-hug-me reactions of a boy growing up. She stroked his hair. “What happened?”

“Arlie and Ben picked on me.” The words were muffled against her stomach.

“Picked on you?”

She glanced over at the twins, still mounted on their horses.

Both nodded agreement.

She held him back from her so she could study his face. “What did they do?”

“Called me a half-breed Mexican. Were going to throw me in the outhouse.” He shivered.

Samantha closed her eyes for a second, fighting down the pain his words caused her. She pulled him closer, wishing she could shelter him from all the cruel bullies in this world. Anger ate around her pain. She wanted to find those boys and slap them silly. Couldn’t they understand the hurt they’d caused? She inhaled, fighting for control. “Then what happened?”

Daniel looked at the twins; his eyebrows lifted for their help.

Jack spoke up first, his voice low and angry. “Stopped ’em.”

Samantha knew she wasn’t going to like what she heard. “How?”

Daniel bounced up and down, anxious to tell the rest of the story. His words tumbled out so fast, Samantha could only get an impression of the incident. But four things stood out. The school needed a new outhouse, Jack had called Daniel his brother, the twins had acted to save him, and they were all suspended.

She looked over at the twins. “Come here, you two.”

Reluctantly, they dismounted, tying up their horses. They approached her, wary, as if one sharp move on her part would skitter them away.

Samantha motioned them closer. Dropping a kiss on Daniel’s forehead, she set him to her side.

The twins stopped in front of her. Deep in their eyes, she saw their fear, and she smiled in reassurance. “I don’t condone you two fighting. But I’m proud you stood up for Daniel. You both behaved like brothers should.”

Both sets of green eyes widened in disbelief.

Jack spoke up first. “Ya ain’t mad at us?”

“No.” Finally, she dared to give each one the hugs she’d wanted them to have since they’d first come to her. Now she thought they were finally ready to receive them.