Patricia Potter (44 page)

“Why?”

“Are you going to try to stop me?” The trembling was a little more pronounced.

He narrowed his eyes. “Try?”

“Do you have to repeat everything I say?”

He regarded her with amusement. “You would be wise to go home.”

“I want to stay with Willow. If I’m there, perhaps Father won’t do anything.”

“Perhaps?”

She gave him a frustrated look. Did he never say anything but echo a piece of her sentence in such a wry, amused way? He made her feel five years old.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t know him anymore.”

He didn’t want to let her pass. She could be lying. But other than tie her hand and foot, he didn’t know how he could stop her. And it was really Willow’s decision.

Lobo took a last look at the trail. If Newton’s men were coming, there was no reason to wait out there. He should go back to the ranch and prepare a welcome, a welcome he knew Alex Newton didn’t expect.

He nodded to her curtly. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

Lobo didn’t offer her a hand. He didn’t want to do anything that might make her stay at the ranch. Right now he wanted them all to go: Willow, Estelle, the children, all but Brady and himself. The two of them could protect the ranch better without innocents to worry about. He didn’t think Willow would see it quite that way.

They rode at a trot, neither speaking to the other. Smoke was already curling from the chimney of the house, and the ranch looked inviting and hospitable. He wondered how it would look in the next few hours, if Newton’s daughter was correct. His mind was already preparing a battle plan. Fifty men. But most of them would be cowpokes with little appetite for a battle, particularly against a woman.

Keller and his group presented the problem. Lobo had already seen how little regard the man had for women and children. And he knew that Keller had lost face during their two past encounters and needed some way to regain an image of strength.

The trick was going to be separating the cowhands from the hired guns.

And then what? If by some miracle or trick he could dissuade Newton from any more attempts on Willow’s ranch, then what? He would have to leave. There was no choice, none at all. He couldn’t saddle Willow with his reputation or the potential danger it represented. Neither could he inflict on her a man who could neither read nor write. She looked up to him now, looked at him with respect. He couldn’t endure the possibility that eventually the respect would turn to contempt, or, worse, pity. She had lightly dismissed his lack of an education the other day, but he couldn’t. It was a deep, frustrating anguish that had been with him much too long.

His hands tightened on the reins of his pinto, and the horse tossed its head in confusion. Lobo’s hand soothed the animal with a touch along its neck just as the door to the house opened, and he saw Willow standing there.

The gray dawn was split now by a slash of sun cutting its way toward the mountains, and the brightness touched Willow, bathing her in a golden light. Her face looked so fresh and young and eager, and the blue of her eyes shone pure and deep.

Agony, so strong that it threatened to bend his body in two, rooted in his heart and branched out to his loins. So little time. So very little time.

He scrutinized Willow’s expression, welcoming and joyful at the sight of him. He saw it change slowly when she saw Marisa slightly behind him. Worry started flooding a face so hopeful seconds earlier.

She walked down from the porch just as Brady emerged from the barn.

“Marisa?” Willow’s voice was puzzled. It was very early for a visit.

Both Lobo and Marisa dismounted and walked over to Willow. Brady joined them. “My father’s men are coming this morning, fifty or more,” Marisa said. “He said…he said he would do anything necessary to get you out. I wanted to warn you.”

Willow’s slender body stiffened. “I was hoping—”

“I know,” Marisa said. “I was too.”

“Thank you,” Willow said softly.

Marisa hesitated. “What are you going to do?”

“Stay,” Willow said flatly. “I’m not going to let them burn this place.”

“You can’t. My father’s…I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Lobo broke in. “I’ll stay. Willow, you take the young ones into town.”

Brady moved closer to him. “I’ll stay too.”

Willow looked from one man to another. “I’ll not run and let you fight my battles for me.”

“If you don’t think of yourself, then think of the kids,” Lobo said roughly.

“Alex wouldn’t hurt the children.”

Lobo’s face turned to pure exasperation. “Didn’t you just hear what she said, for God’s sakes?”

Willow stood undecided for a moment. “Chad can take them in.”

“And if they run into Newton’s men just as you did the other day?”

Willow flinched as she remembered the runaway horses. “I won’t leave,” she said stubbornly. “Perhaps Marisa…”

Everyone turned and looked at Marisa. She nodded slowly. She had intended to stay, but perhaps she could get some help in town and return. Perhaps Sullivan would know what to do.

The wagon was quickly hitched to the horses, the protesting twins and Sallie Sue loaded quickly with Chad and Marisa on the front seat. Lobo hitched her horse behind the wagon. Estelle came out and watched, but also refused to go. “I can help load guns,” she said with a determination that surprised the other adults.

They all watched as the wagon slowly wound down the road, then Lobo turned to Brady. “Let’s get ready.”

Lobo had plans, and now he discussed them with Brady.

Once Newton’s men approached the ranch, Lobo would set off one of the charges in the ground. He hoped the explosion would be enough to make some of Newton’s men wary of coming closer. If they continued to approach, Brady, from a position in the hayloft, would discharge a second round, while Lobo exploded a third. Hopefully, the attackers would believe there were more than two men at the ranch.

Lobo and Brady agreed on the tactics, then divided the guns collected the day before, making sure each was loaded. Estelle followed Brady into the barn, and Willow followed Lobo into the house. Both women knew how to load and use a gun; such knowledge was essential in an area with rattlesnakes, wolves, and other predators. Neither, however, had ever aimed at a man.

Lobo took up his post at the window. He thought about breaking the glass but hesitated. Perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary.

His eyes went to Willow, who stood by his side as if she were a part of him. And she was. No matter what happened in the next few hours, the memory of her standing there, her eyes so clear and blue they could make a man cry, her lips trembling slightly but her chin set and determined, would always be with him. His hand went to her cheek, feeling its softness, and he ran his fingers along the fine lines of her face, etching it in his mind, his memory, his soul. The need—the dream—was so strong, so overpowering that he felt himself trembling.

Her hand went to his, pressing it gently against her face with tenderness, with aching possession, with wordless promise. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart beat erratically as he leaned down and kissed her with a haunting sweetness and longing that stilled time.

Willow felt tears gather behind her eyes. It was a kiss of farewell. She sensed it. No matter what happened in the next hours, this was his good-bye. Her eyes met his, and she knew there would be no reprieve, not this time.

A mist had fallen over his eyes, not the curtain she was used to seeing, but the mist of tears that glistened like so many bright pieces of glass.

He withdrew, moving away slowly, like an old man, turning back to the window.

Twisted by a sorrow so deep she didn’t know how she stood upright, Willow stood beside him and waited.

A
LEX
N
EWTON HAD
his men lift him onto the seat of the buckboard and strap him there with a rigged-up buckle. It had been a long time since he’d ventured from his ranch, but he wanted to be at Willow Taylor’s ranch to make a final offer. And he wanted to be there in case Gar Morrow appeared.

He hadn’t been able to sleep all night. His thoughts had gone to Mary, to Mary and Gar, and that day when he’d lost everything. It was time Gar Morrow lost everything.

He thought of his daughter upstairs. She had been the one good thing in his life these past years, but even she didn’t understand. Part of the reason, he knew, was that he’d never told her the truth about what had happened. He hadn’t wanted her to bear the burden of an unfaithful mother.

He looked around him, at the men mounting, and he thought he would give up everything to sit on a horse again and ride proud, as he had so many years ago. He and Jake and Gar had run their herds together, fought Indians and outlaws, built their ranches out of nothing. He, Mary, Jake, and Gar. The pain, the pulsing pain that never left him, ran deep and hot as he lifted his hand in signal to go.

M
ARISA TOOK HER
charges directly to Sullivan’s office. The town was just barely coming alive, the storekeepers preparing to open their establishments. But to Marisa, the town of Newton seemed abnormally quiet, even for this time of day. She told Chad and the children to wait until she discovered whether Sullivan was home.

She banged impatiently on his door and heard a sleepy reply, some shuffling, and the sound of a twisting doorknob. Then Sullivan was standing there in trousers but no shirt. Circles were under his eyes, and she guessed he’d had a late-night emergency, but his eyes cleared instantly as his gaze rested on her. “Marisa?”

“Famer’s men are on their way to Willow’s ranch,” she said. “I have the children with me.”

“Willow?”

“She refused to come, said she had to stay. Lobo and Brady are there with her.”

“Brady?”

“He’s…different,” Marisa said. “Like he used to be. I don’t know why, but I think that gunman trusts him.”

“Two men against—how many?”

Marisa’s eyes clouded. “I don’t know. A lot. Men have been coming in from the range all day, and then there are those new men Father hired.” Her face twisted with dislike.

Sullivan’s gray eyes went cold. “Brady and Lobo don’t have a chance against that many. Wait here.”

He disappeared into the other room and returned within seconds, buttoning up a shirt. “We’ll take the children to Mrs. MacIntyre.”

“Then what?”

“I think I may call a town meeting of my own,” Sullivan said thoughtfully.

Marisa stared at him, her impatience fermenting. She wanted to get back to Willow. If she was there, perhaps her father would retreat. But she wasn’t even sure of that.

“I’ll take them,” she said breathlessly. “You see what you can do.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “You’ll meet me at the church?”

She hesitated, then nodded. She knew he wouldn’t go otherwise. Her lie, she justified, was for a good cause.

Mrs. MacIntyre was only too willing to take the children, though her face creased with concern when she learned why the request was made. “Sullivan’s trying to get some help,” Marisa announced as a church bell started pealing.

“I’ll make sure Mr. MacIntyre goes to the meeting,” his wife said, “and that he does the right thing.”

Marisa smiled gratefully, eager to be off. “I have a few people to see,” she said, just in case Sullivan asked where she was.

“I’ll take good care of the young ’uns,” Mrs. MacIntyre assured her as Marisa turned and ran down the steps.

Moments later, Mrs. MacIntyre heard the church bell. Determined to speak her piece before her husband attended the meeting, she turned to Chad. “You take care of the younger ones for a few moments.”

Innocence cloaking his eyes, Chad nodded, his mind already working. He couldn’t leave Lobo and Brady and Willow alone. The ranch was his home too, his responsibility. Feeling every bit of the man he aspired to be, he watched Mrs. MacIntyre leave.

The wagon was in front, the horses still hitched up. Chad cast a warning look at the twins. “I’m going back. You two stay here and take care of Sallie Sue.”

Jeremy shook his head. “We want to go back too.”

“You can’t,” Chad pronounced.

“We’ll tell if you don’t take us with you.”

“Me too,” Sallie Sue chimed in.

“Holy goosefeathers,” Chad swore.

“We have as much right as you,” Jeremy said in a contentious voice.

“Me too,” Sallie Sue echoed herself.

Time was a-wasting, Chad thought. He knew Jeremy and Jimmy would indeed tell on him and he’d be stopped. And Sallie Sue? No one would hurt little Sallie Sue, and he certainly couldn’t leave her alone.

“All right,” he said ungraciously. “But you have to do exactly what I tell you.”

The younger ones shook their heads vigorously, Sallie imitating the others more than actually understanding what was happening.

Chad peered out the window. The street was full of people moving toward the church and its beckoning bell. He waited several seconds until the way was almost clear, then lifted Sallie Sue in his arms and took her quickly out to the wagon. The twins followed and climbed in. Chad took the front seat, dislodging the brake and gently slapping the horses with the reins.