A Texan's Promise (16 page)

As she cried out again, he rubbed his wife's back as gently as possible. "Vanessa, honey. Wake up."

Her only reply was a torrent of tears.

He felt his eyes tearing up, too. "Sweetheart, you're all right," he coaxed. "You're okay."

Slowly her eyes opened. He smiled encouragingly. "Vanessa, honey? Wake up now. You with me? No one's going to hurt you. I'm here. I'm here, honey."

She blinked twice before speaking, her voice groggy with wonder. "Clay."

"I'm here."

Tremors coursed through her, so he shifted, pulling her onto his lap. "I'm here," he repeated, almost as much for his sake as for her own.

To his relief, she laid her head on his chest and sighed. "I had another dream. A bad one."

"I know."

After another minute, she leaned a little bit away and caught his gaze. "It felt so real."

"It was just a dream." Because she was shaking so, because he couldn't bear to let her go, Clayton cuddled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her securely, doing his best to accept all of her pain. Doing his best not to notice just how right she felt, sidled up against his chest.

Smoothing a hand along her back, wincing as he felt the ridges of her scars, he murmured, "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

"Price was in here. Attacking me."

Clayton leaned back, caught her gaze until she stilled."He'll never lay a hand on you again. I promise."

"I smelled the whiskey." Wonder crossed her face. "I smelled it as strongly as if he were on this bed. How could it have felt so real?"

"I don't know."

Slowly, she pulled away, frowning at a lock of hair that had become tangled in the lace collar of her gown. "What a mess I am." She tugged at her nightgown, damp with sweat. "And what a sight."

Only Vanessa would think he cared. "You look fine, sugar.Perfect."

"I'm far from that."

"Never say that."

"Clay . . . I'm still so afraid."

"I know. But you're all right now. Remember? You're okay.Your mother got there in time. He hurt you, but we got you out before anything worse happened. Remember?"

Something shattered in her eyes.

Foreboding filled his soul. "Van?"

She looked down.

"Van? Did something else take place in that room?" His heart raced. All this time—all this time he'd thought that she'd only been beaten. That even though she'd always be scarred from Price's belt, he'd gotten her away before she'd been abused far worse. Mouth dry, he moved away from her."Vanessa? Van, what else did that man do?"

She bit her lip.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice low but full of force.

"My mother, she didn't get there as quickly as I led you to believe."

His hands shook. Violence and anger burst forth, feelings of helplessness, so fresh and new, rushed through him. He could hardly speak. "Did Price . . . did Price violate you?"

Her eyes clouded, and with that, something snapped inside of him. He needed to know the truth. The truth without vague words or veiled suggestions. Even though his voice was harsh —even though he knew his temper was only making things worse—he asked the question. "Vanessa, did Price rape you?" Slowly, she nodded, just as tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"But you said I got you out." Words stumbled one over the next as he tried to make things right. "You told me that he hadn't done more than whip you."

The tears kept coming. "I know. I know what I told you."

"Why? Why didn't you tell me everything?" He knew his voice was becoming harder, clipped. "Vanessa, why didn't you tell me the truth?"

This time Vanessa didn't look away. Staring at him, her green eyes almost luminescent, she shrugged. "Clay, I didn't tell you because I was afraid." Her voice lowered. "I was afraid if you knew everything, things would never be the same."

She was right. They weren't. Unable to look at her, Clayton turned away. After all his promises, after all his efforts, he knew the plain truth.

He hadn't protected her at all. He hadn't saved her in time.

He'd completely failed her after all.

From the moment Clayton stood up and turned away, Vanessa knew that she'd lost him. She'd been afraid of such a thing happening. Had been afraid of him looking at her the way he had.

"Why did you never say what really happened?" His intonation was husky, deep. The words sounded rough from across the room. "Vanessa, why didn't you tell me the truth?"

It was hard to know how to voice all the words spilling over themselves inside of her. Too much time had passed, she supposed.Too much time and too many lies.

Finally, she spoke, though she doubted she'd make any sense at all. "I was ashamed." Oh, she'd been more than that.She'd been so scared.. And mortified. And worried that if she'd confessed everything to Clayton that he would think differently about her.

He turned to face her. "I would have killed him if I'd known.I would have walked into his bedroom and wrung his neck—" He stopped abruptly as they both looked at his clenched fists.

"I know." There was bitterness about him—a coldness she'd never spied there before. He looked different. Distant. More like the soldier he'd been. She didn't doubt that he could kill.

To her shame, she most likely would have been glad if he'd killed her stepfather. Price Venture had ruined her, had changed her life. Taken away her dreams and left scars on her back as a constant reminder.

But of course, if he'd murdered Price, he, too, would have been ruined.

Hesitantly she added, "I'm glad you didn't."

"I still don't understand.
I asked you,
Vanessa. I asked you that night. You told me he hadn't—"

She cut him off. "I just wanted to forget. I didn't want you to know."

"Vanessa, you should have told me. I could have helped you." He flinched. "You were hurt. We rode for hours." Pure pain entered his eyes as he combed his fingers through his hair. "I should have done something. I should have helped you more. Carried you. . . ."

"You did, Clay." Emotions billowed through her, frustrating her attempts to speak clearly. "Clayton, don't you see? I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to think about it. I was too ashamed. I'm
still
ashamed. I never wanted you to look at me this way." She reached out to him. To her mortification, he pulled away. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad, Van. But I surely wish you would have trusted me."

She reached for his hand again. "Please hold me. Hold me like you used to, back before everything happened."

Almost gingerly, he returned to the bed. Leaned his head against the wall. She scrambled to his side and pressed her cheek to his chest, as always reassured by his beating heart.

Oh, he felt so warm and wonderful. Safe. She shifted closer.She was relieved when he curved an arm around her back.Maybe everything would be all right one day after all.

And because she knew he wouldn't speak of it, she did.At least a little. "All I wanted after we left was to be free of him. I didn't want to remember. Didn't want to talk about that night. About the things we did. But those dreams, they just kept coming, didn't they? Maybe I had to face the truth after all."

"Maybe." He swallowed. "Maybe so."

"Clay, do you think my bad dreams will go away now?"

"I don't know." After a bit, he spoke some more. "Mine did, after a time. One day you'll have other memories to take their place."

Turning on her side, Vanessa faced him. "Is that what happened for you after the war? You got new memories?"

"I did. Six years ago, I stepped foot on the Circle Z and found a thirteen-year-old girl with long brown hair and pretty green eyes and the sweetest smile on earth. She made me laugh. Because of her, I started to heal."

"I'll never forget the day you arrived," she said, thankful for the memory. "You were an answer to a prayer."

"I was a mess inside. So empty. But you gave me so much, Vanessa."

Had she? "I probably only gave you a headache. I never left you alone."

Almost reluctantly, his lips curved. "You did, indeed, follow me everywhere."

Remembering how pesky she'd been, Vanessa said, "I was always after you to go riding with me."

"Oh, Van, but you could ride. Like the wind. Yet, you were so foolish, too. Remember when Miles put that snake in your room?"

"I screamed like it was a rattler."

Clayton chuckled. "I'd never seen anything like your carrying on. That poor little garter snake, you probably scared it half to death."

She smiled at the memory. Clayton had picked up the snake with one hand and had marched out of her room like he was the most put-upon man on earth.

And then stood by her side when they watched the little snake slither off. "Maybe . . . maybe I already do have some good things to replace the bad ones with, Clay."

"One day, you'll feel better. One day you won't hurt. I promise."

Sharing her secret had made her feel like a dam had burst inside of her. She felt freer. Holding the horrible memories close to her had been eating her up inside. "I feel better for having told you what happened."

It was some time before Clayton spoke. "I'm glad." But she didn't hear any gladness in his voice. It simply sounded broken and harsh. Brittle and tired.

Edging away, she turned to her side, closed her eyes, and prayed. Prayed for healing and trust and forgiveness. Just as sleep washed over her, she recalled a favorite verse from Psalms. "
The Lord helps the fallen and lifts those bent beneath their loads."

God would help her. Perhaps, by giving her Clayton, He already had.

"I've half a mind to give up and go on home," Price told Miles in front of the campfire. "The Circle Z is sure to be suffering by our absence."

Miles was afraid to hope for something so good. "We've been gone a while."

"Twenty-three days. Twenty-three days too long, by my estimation."

Every day had been a matter of trial and tribulation to get through. Miles felt as if his insides had been torn up and spit out over and over again—he'd been in such a state of worry and guilt.

But he could never share any such weaknesses. He settled on stating the obvious. "It's been a tough month."

"It's been worse than tough. It's been an eternity."Tentatively, Price rubbed at his foot, which was propped up on a nearby rock. "I hadn't counted on everything being so difficult or the terrain being so unforgiving. This blasted ankle hurts like the devil."

Miles suspected it did. Price had twisted it something awful when they were crossing a shallow creek practically filled with ice. Most everyone had warned against the crossing, saying a misstep could do irrevocable damage to the horses. They, of course, had ignored the advice. Good thing only Price had been the injured party.

As the flames crackled from the sap in the pine they were burning, a slow, expectant silence filled the air. The two of them were almost talking like true family members. Almost like Price didn't think nothing of his stepson.

Yes, indeed, they'd come a long way. Miles didn't know whether to sigh in relief or frustration. Their days had been filled with tension and worry. As Miles had feared, Price hadn't listened to Lacy or Janey's insinuations about Clayton's brass button.

"Like I'd ever listen to anything a whore says," he'd muttered.

With a last parting glance at the Addison Hotel, they'd turned north instead of west, and fought the rocky terrain and cooler weather. Days were spent looking for people to interview.Nights were far longer, since Price almost always chose to find lodging, whiskey, and comfort.

For days on end, they'd traveled and talked to everyone and no one. All that time, they heard no word at all about Clayton or Vanessa. If the wilderness wasn't so vast, Miles would have guessed his sister had disappeared forever.

In the daylight, everything seemed to be going all right.Miles felt proud that he'd done his best to divert Price's mission.That Vanessa was safe from harm.

But in the evening, when the stars were out, doubts set in and he reverted back to selfish ways. In the dark, still evenings, Miles thought about his future and realized it held no promise. All he had to look forward to was a lifetime of being under Price's thumb and being thought a thoroughly poor caretaker of his father's legacy by the ranch hands and townspeople.He'd made a poor decision in Santa Fe. He should've just gone ahead and left and tried to make out on his own.

And that, of course, made him wonder who was guiding his life and principles. His stepfather? His own self-centered weaknesses? Or was it the Lord?

Even thinking about religion made him uneasy. But he couldn't discount Clayton's insistence that a greater power guided him. Miles had never claimed to be especially smart, but even he could recognize that he'd yet to place God's practices into the everyday routine of his life.

"What do you think, boy?"

"I think we should head on back," he said, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Vanessa's bound to return home sooner or later. She can't run forever, can she? Plus, the Circle Z is her birthright. She'll want to be home."

"Do you think she really did marry Proffitt?"

"Maybe. Clayton promised my pa he'd look out for Vanessa.He swore that vow on a Bible—well, so I heard. I reckon he took that seriously."

Price turned from his study of the fire and looked at Miles with serious regard. "You might be right about that."

Miles blinked in surprise from that unexpected compliment.Feeling a little more certain, he added, "There's another reason she's going to come back, even if she did marry Clayton Proffitt. That's money. Vanessa is going to want the money Pa left her. Clayton doesn't have much."

"He sure doesn't, since I've spent what I could get my hands on."

As the night pressed on, a shadowy fluttering appeared in the distance. Dark shapes darted and flew up and down, bobbing in a wild formation. Sharp squeaks floated through the air.

Price scowled. "Bats. I hate bats."

Miles grabbed a stick and stoked the fire. With a crackle, flames grew. He hoped the smoke would encourage the creatures to head somewhere else. He wasn't fond of bats, either.

As Price looked warily above him, obviously ready to duck in case a bat swooped close, he growled, "If we get on home, I can make sure we get the cattle to market on time."

"And check the land. The telegrams we've been receiving haven't said much. No telling what the boys have been doing without you supervising."

"Those wires haven't given us a bit of information. Most likely the help has been bleeding me dry and hardly doing a lick of work." After another moment, Price laughed. "The smoke did the trick; those nasty little varmints have moved along. I think we might as well do that, too." With a new appreciation in his voice, he said, "Boy, you might not be completely worthless after all."

Miles closed his eyes and wondered how low his life had come, because for a split second, he'd felt pleased to receive such a compliment.

Someone help me,
he silently prayed.
Someone please help me find some kind of light in the dark recesses of my life.

But of course all he heard was the faint fluttering of the bats as they flew overhead.

"I'm glad you can cook because I can hardly boil water," Corrine said as they sipped coffee after a delicious breakfast of eggs and bacon. "José does a fine job, but when he's not around it's a toss-up between Merritt and me who will make the worst meal."

Vanessa smiled at the quip as her sister-in-law continued."I'm so glad Clayton brought you here. The days get long when it's just me and the girls. But even more important, it does my heart good to see the two of you together, to see the way Clayton is with you. My brother looks happy for the first time in years. I can't tell you how I've worried about him."

Vanessa looked toward the door. He'd left their bed before daylight and she hadn't seen him since. Merritt told her at breakfast that Clayton had saddled up Lee and was riding the property. Though she couldn't fault his willingness to work, there was something about his continued need to be busy— away from her—that didn't sit well.

Their conversation the night before had opened raw wounds. She knew she'd hurt him deeply by withholding the whole truth about Price's attack.