Guardian Bride (34 page)

she held his father's head as Jonas took his last breath didn't

seem like a conversation starter.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Wainwright," Snake said,

stopping in front of her. "But I didn't want you to worry or be

afraid. I realize now that was wrong. If you'd known, you

could have been more cautious. I should have told

September, too, so she would have known."

"Yes, you should have." She sounded firmer than she felt

and tried to soften her declaration. "It's easier to react to

something we know than to something we don't."

He sat down beside her. "It won't happen again. I

promise." His fingers found hers, threading hers with his. "I

promise from this day forward, I'll never keep something from

you again. And if you want to go to the badlands and see

your father, we'll leave tomorrow."

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That took her by surprise. She hadn't given much thought

to meeting her father. Perhaps someday she would, but right

now she had other concerns to deal with. "I would like to

meet him, someday. When the time is right."

"You just say the word, and we'll go."

Closing her eyes, she bit her lips together. A soft and

relaxing warmth settled on her shoulders. She wondered if it

was his arm, but then knew it wasn't. It might be Jonas, but

then again, it might just be her. Years ago she'd learned to be

resourceful, strong, and honest. It hadn't been until she

found a life she was afraid of losing that she'd started to

question her abilities. That would never happen again. She'd

never allow doubt to shroud her thinking again. Never allow

gloom to overshadow the love she'd found.

She met her husband's gaze. "I have something to tell

you, too."

"First," he said, wrapping his other hand around their

clutched ones. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes, I forgive you."

He kissed her temple. "I am sorry. I know I caused you

more pain by not telling you. I never meant to do that."

The need to tell him washed over her. "Do you remember

when I told you we lived over by Cimarron?"

"Yes, why?"

"After the grasshopper plague, we had to leave. There was

nothing left. We packed everything into a wagon, and started

for Dodge. Our horse, too old and weak for the trip, died the

first day. A few nights later a man came along." Tears bit at

her eyes. "He shared his food with us. I don't remember what

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we'd eaten before then, but I do remember how good his

beans and bacon were. He spent the night and told us about

his family. His wife and kids. The next morning, while he was

saddling his horse..." she had to stop to draw in a breath.

"July shot him in the back."

Snake didn't say a word, and she didn't look his way.

Staring at the water, watching the mirror image of the stars

dancing overhead, she continued, "I ran to him and tried to

stop the blood. But it poured out of his chest. It just kept

coming and coming. I begged him to keep breathing, but he

said he couldn't. He said his time had come and that if he had

to die so I could live, so be it." The tears flowed freely now,

and she let them fall, feeling everything she'd felt that

morning so long ago. "I sat with his head on my lap. He

smiled and said I was a good girl. No one had ever said that

to me. And then he died. Right there on my lap, he stopped

breathing."

The arm around her shoulders, tightened, and though she

didn't remember when Snake had wrapped it around her, she

leaned against him, needed the comfort. "His name was Jonas

Quinter."

Snake didn't know what to say. The emotions swirling

inside him were more entangled than the den of rattlers back

at the soddy. Actually, he wasn't surprised. Something deep

in him had known July had killed his father. Probably since

the moment he saw the watch. But he'd never imagined

Summer had witnessed it. The need to protect and comfort

her lifted above all the rest.

"Shh," he murmured.

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"I'm sorry," she cried softly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

She sat up and met his gaze. He saw the woman then. The

proud, strong one, who'd stormed into his bedroom and

proclaimed they were married, had reappeared.

"My father murdered your father."

Hearing the words, learning the truth of who killed his

father, wasn't as hard to hear as he'd imagined. Perhaps the

years had softened the news, or maybe it was because of who

said them. He rested a palm against her cheek.

"Yes, he did." Never taking his eyes from hers, he asked,

"But does it matter? Today, right now, does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters. I—"

"You what? You were just a child. There wasn't anything

you could have done. And there isn't anything you can do

about it now, either."

"But, your brothers. Ma..."

The heartache in her eyes ate at his chest. "Do you

honestly think they'll hold something July Austin did against

you?"

"He was my father."

"No, he wasn't. He was a man who stole you from your

real family. He hurt you as badly as he did us."

"He was September and August's father."

"No, he wasn't a father to them. He was a burden to all of

you. One you'll never have to worry about again." He tried to

pull her close, but she refused.

"We—I have to tell your family."

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"We have to tell our family. And we will. They may have

questions, want to know how it happened. But there's no one

who'll blame you, or be upset with you."

Her glance went to the house. The windows were lit and

the back door open. Soft laughter filtered into the night air.

"Trust me, I know my family. They may appear to be

rough on the edges, but they have hearts of gold. And they

love you. You and September and August. And they always

will."

When she turned, and once again met his gaze, a way to

banish July Austin came to his mind. "There is one thing I

want. I hope you'll agree and talk to the children with me."

She frowned slightly. "What is it?"

"From today forward, I would like September and August

to start using Quinter as their last name."

Her eyes shone. He hoped it was happiness and not just

from the tears she shed.

"They'd like that. I know they'd like that very much."

"And you? How do you feel about it?"

"I like it very, very much." She patted his cheek. "I have

something else to tell you."

"All right," he assured, willing to listen to anything she had

to say.

"It might sound unbelievable."

The transformation in her had been a wonderful thing to

watch. The scared little girl he'd seen the past few weeks had

disappeared, and he hoped she wouldn't ever need to return.

"I think I can handle it."

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A smile touched her lips, and she glanced around, as if

looking for someone. When her gaze settled on him, he felt

more than saw a peace within her.

"Your father is my guardian angel. Since the day he died,

he's visited me, especially at those times I really needed help.

He..." she paused as if trying to think of a way to explain

herself.

Snake pressed a finger to her lips. "I know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"Because he's visited me, too. He's the one who told me to

marry you. He told me to nod. He was also the one that told

me which direction September went."

"He did?"

"He did."

"He told me about the fire. Or showed it to me in a

dream," she whispered

Snake nodded. "Sheriff Turley confirmed it had been

started."

"Wainwright."

"We figure as much. But it really doesn't matter. Does it?"

The time for talking was over. Snake pulled her close and

kissed her until they were both swimming in a sea of passion.

Moments before he lost all control, he ended the embrace,

knowing they couldn't act upon their obsession until later.

After a few minutes, when they both were able to breathe, he

pulled her to her feet.

"Come on, we best go eat before it's all gone."

She glanced to the house, squared her shoulders, and then

with a smile, nodded.

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Hand in hand, they crossed the yard and entered their

home.

The transformation of the kitchen was remarkable. Full of

furniture, family, and food, it barely resembled the shell he'd

left a few hours ago.

His mother understood his shock. "Your wife has been very

busy today."

"I see that," he said, tugging Summer closer to his side. "I

can't believe it."

"The rest of the house is done, too. Curtains are up,

furniture is set out, beds are made. I swear, if she'd had a

few more hours, that fancy tub would have been installed as

well," Lila said.

Summer's cheeks turned red.

He smiled. "You like it?"

"I love it," she admitted, and then stretched on her tiptoes

to kiss him.

"Sit down and eat," Willamina said. "Eva has something to

show you two as soon as supper is over."

"Hello, Willamina, I didn't know you were here," he said,

leading Summer to a spot on the long table lined with two

benches.

"Where'd you think I'd be? One of my family was missing.

I had to be here when she came home." Willamina patted

September's head. The girl beamed as bright as the noon day

sun.

The meal continued, and the conversation lasted long after

the chocolate cake was served. After August finished his

second piece, the last dish was washed and put away. It was

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then that Willamina insisted everyone move to the living

room.

The large fireplace, made out of the same stones that had

built the one in their old house, was in the center of the

room. On its hearth was a sizeable canvas draped package.

Having seen the paintings Eva created for his brothers, Snake

knew what was beneath the canvas, and he was anxious to

see how the young girl had depicted he and Summer.

Summer frowned at the canvas. It hadn't been there

earlier. Yesterday, still allowing doubt to cloud her world, she

may not have been aware of it, but today, once she decided

for the first time in her life she had a life worth living, she

would have noticed it. While the men were searching for

September, and her sisters-in-law were riding the country,

gathering more help, she'd decided to take action as well.

Setting the house in order, unpacking the crates of

furniture and household goods, had not only given her

something to do, it had renewed her spirit. This was her

home. Her family. And she was proud of it. Of them. Never

again would the actions of another claim her joy.

Snake held her hand. It was an undemanding and

effortless action, but one that signified a connection that

could never be broken. Her gaze was on his profile. He was so

handsome. So strong and kind and caring. Best of all, he was

hers. Forever.

The sound of the crowd around them sucking in air made

her turn to the hearth. Eva, with the help of Bug, had

uncovered a huge painting. Summer's heart jolted then

stalled as her eyes settled on the scene.

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The background was of the Kansas sky, a blue so brilliant,

Summer couldn't believe the girl had found the right color

paint to imitate it. The blue, softened now and again by

white, summer clouds, eased down until it touched a field of

wheat, golden brown with red tinted seed heads that danced

so gracefully she could almost feel the breeze blowing

through the tall stalks.

The images of people then caught her attention. It was her

and Snake, standing proud and strong, hands entwined as

they were that very moment. In front of them, laughing with

the joy only children know, were September and August. Near

the boy's feet, gazing up at his owner with adoration was

Jerome, and a flower-topped Maisy stood beside September.

"It's him," September whispered. "It's him."

"Who?" August asked. "Me? That's Jerome. It looks just

like him."

"No. Yes. That's you, but..." September moved forward

and pointed to the sky above Summer's head. "That's him."

Summer had one hand on the heart that now raced in her

chest. Her other hand squeezed Snake's so hard it throbbed.

Painted faintly into the sky, to where you couldn't see him

until you really looked, was the very image of Jonas Quinter.

"That's Pa," Skeeter shouted, excitedly. "Lila, that's my

Pa."

September looked up at Snake. "That's the man that lifted