Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (40 page)

Caleb Livingston smoothed back the hair from Ben’s forehead. Getting to his feet, he turned toward Samantha.

Wyatt stepped forward and draped his arm across her shoulder. She could feel the protectiveness in his stiff frame, and she leaned against him. Jack came to stand beside her. She pulled the boy into a loose embrace in front of her.

Mr. Livingston narrowed his eyes. “Your twins did this. We caught them trying to steal the horses.” He pointed one accusing finger at Jack. “That one got away. After my nephew is seen to, I’m going to make it my business to see them shipped out of town.”

Samantha tightened her arms around Jack. Her anger flared hot, but her words came out winter cold. “I think not. Ben admitted to setting the fires. He and Arlie Sloan. It’s
your
nephew, Mr. Livingston, not my twins, who needs to take responsibility for the damage.”

Wyatt spoke up, his voice hard. “Arlie pushed Ben. That’s why he broke his leg. Mrs. Rodriguez and I
sent
the twins for the horses.”

Arlie stood half behind his father, clearly wanting to hide. Mr. Sloan released Tim, turned around. “This true, boy?”

“Ain’t dun nothin’, Pa.” His tone sounded sullen and not very believable.

“You’re lyin’.” He cuffed Arlie.

The boy flung his arms up and cringed. “Just wait until we get home, boy.” The man seized Arlie and dragged him off.

Tim sprang away, running around the men surrounding the litter, straight to Samantha and Jack. She gathered him to her, hugging both of them.

They’re mine now. No one will take them away.

Wyatt ignored the Sloans, focusing on the banker. “The boys, all the children, helped in the rescue effort. You owe them a debt of gratitude, Livingston.”

Mr. Livingston’s handsome face slackened with shock. He moved his mouth before he forced out the words. “Ben? Set the fires? Let the twins be blamed?”

“Yes,” Samantha said, almost feeling sorry for him.

Livingston cleared his throat. “Please accept my apologies on behalf of my nephew.” He paused. “You must also accept my apologies for my own behavior as well.” He swallowed. “I was wrong to accuse the twins based on my own opinion—without proof.”

Although the words sounded stilted, Samantha could sense his sincerity. “I accept your apology, Mr. Livingston.”

The banker assumed a businesslike manner. “I was inflexible in refusing an extension on your loan for the ranch. I’m sure we’ll be able to work out acceptable terms.”

She nodded.

Dr. Cameron picked up his bag. “Enough talking for right now. I want to get Ben back to town before he regains consciousness.” He winked at Samantha. “Maybe in the next few days, I can speak to you about buying two of your wee Falabellas. My wife fancies having a buggy like yours.”

Samantha grinned at him. “I’d be delighted, Doctor.”

She leaned against Wyatt, watching the rest of the men surround the litter carried by Livingston and Cobb. One of the men gathered the horses and led them away. When they rounded a bend, she released a prayer of happiness. She hadn’t lost her ranch, or—she hugged the boys one final time—her twins.

That evening, Samantha sat in her parlor, surrounded by celebrating friends and neighbors. She held a cup and saucer in her hand, sipping fragrant Earl Grey tea and eating the sugar cookies the women kept pressing on her. Elizabeth and Pamela refused to allow her to do anything but relax and enjoy herself. Instead, Maria and Mrs. Toffels had taken over the kitchen, while Elizabeth, Pamela, and Miss Stanton saw to the serving. Although Samantha’s knees sported bruises, and her palms were crisscrossed with scrapes, she floated on a bubble of happiness, barely aware of her aching body.

She allowed the conversation to flow over her, watching with appreciation how every man found time to apologize to the twins. The women had all been generous with hugs for the children, and Samantha had never seen such wonder and joy as her twins showed on their freckled faces.

Even her solemn Little Feather radiated contentment, allowing himself to be drawn into descriptions of the cave systems with men he formerly would have fled from on sight. And Daniel bounced about the room, his high spirits revived by excitement. Often Christine trailed him, sometimes coming over to Samantha or her father for a reassuring hug, before running off to play.

Wyatt stood surrounded by several men, repeating once again the story of their trek. She even caught a phrase or two of praise for her Falabellas. Now that was a wonder. Even the comical sight of him wearing a too-small tan shirt of Ezra’s couldn’t hide the qualities of command and strength Samantha had come to admire in him.

Wyatt glanced over at her. The proprietary look in his gray eyes shivered her to her toes. For the whole evening, they’d exchanged looks, never losing their connecting thread, no
matter how many people separated them. While glad to be merry-making with the people who’d come to be her friends, she could hardly wait until the company left, they’d tucked the children in bed, and she and Wyatt could finally be alone. Her heart quickened at the thought.

Reverend Norton tottered over to Wyatt and whispered something in his ear. Wyatt nodded. Raising his hand, he said. “Quiet everyone. Reverend Norton wants to say his piece.”

An amused smile softened the minister’s austere face. “I believe thanks are in order to the Lord for the safe deliverance of our children and the end to the strife permeating our community. Let us pray.”

Samantha bowed her head, her heart so full of thankfulness she needed to pass some of the joyful emotions on to the Almighty. After all, a heart could only hold so much. Surely, it had already expanded to fill her entire chest. She peeped at Wyatt from under her eyelashes, had a feeling she might need some extra thankful space in her heart very, very soon.

Late that night, Wyatt strolled hand in hand with Samantha down the path to the river. The three-quarter moon provided enough light for them to see without using lanterns. The stars dotted the sky like bright freckles in a friendly face. He relished the feel of Samantha’s hand in his. Peacefulness settled between them, edged with a passion held in check by only a loose rein.

A cool breeze had Samantha pulling her jacket tighter with her other hand. She still wore her men’s garments, not having had time to change clothes. The festive gathering of the townsfolk had lingered late into the night. To an impatient Wyatt, it took forever to tell their story again and again and eat all the food pressed upon them by Pamela Carter and Elizabeth Sanders.

Once that they were alone, he chivied Samantha out the door so they could enjoy the freedom of the night. When they reached the bridge, by unspoken consent, they paused.

Samantha turned slightly away from him, looking up at the sky.

Wyatt remembered the necklace he’d imagined for her. Keeping a hold of her hand, he reached out, tracing one finger down the line of her throat, under her collar, and stopping at the hollow of her neck. “If I designed a necklace for you, Samantha…little diamonds for stars and a pearl-encrusted crescent moon…would you wear it?”

The glimmer of the moon’s light reflected in her eyes. She lifted a finger and touched his lips. “Yes.”

He kissed her fingertips, then tangled his fingers in hers. “Can you forgive me, Samantha, for my harsh opinions about your boys…your Falabellas…your keeping the ranch?”

Her countenance glowed brighter than the moon. “Yes, Wyatt, I already have. You expressed some harsh opinions, but in spite of them, you were always a good neighbor.”

“I’ve wanted to be more than a good neighbor.”
I love you
. The words trembled on his lips, ones he hadn’t uttered since he’d buried his heart with Alicia. His heart, once more whole and bursting with love, beat in cadence to the rushing river. A breeze feathered across his cheek like a caress.

Alicia’s spirit giving them her blessing?

He’d like to think so—that she approved of his choice of wife and mother for their daughter. At that thought, the gentle gust vanished, leaving the night to the lovers. With an ebullient lightness in his heart, Wyatt released the words. “I love you, Samantha.”

She melted against him, circling his waist with her arms. “I love you too, Wyatt.”

Leaning over, he kissed her, light and soft, with a promise of more to come. “Will you marry me, Samantha? Be a mother to Christine? Allow me to be a father to your boys?”

Amusement danced in her blue eyes and curled the corners of her lips. “And my Falabellas?”

“I know they’re part of the package.” He dropped his tone to mock seriousness. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for them.”

“In that case, Wyatt Thompson, I’ll marry you.”

He moved his hands to cradle her cheeks, trying to convey his joy and love through his palms. Finally, he bent his head to place on her lips a kiss of promise for all the years to come.

USA Today
bestseller Debra Holland is a psychotherapist, corporate crisis counselor, and martial arts instructor, as well as an acclaimed author. It wasn’t until she finished many years of grad school that she began her writing career in earnest. In addition to her historical westerns, Holland is also the author of the self-help book
The Essential Guide to Grief and Grieving
and two books of fantasy romance,
Sower of Dreams
and
Reaper of Dreams
. She lives in Southern California, where she was born and raised.

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