Dark Warrior: Kid (Dark Cloth Series Book 2) (15 page)

“Is he with my grandfather?” she said, as they slipped into the livery stable with their prize.

Jake grinned, the white of his teeth flashing in the night. “Yes, but I think tonight, he’ll be going on a hunt of his own.”

Much later into the night, George stepped in to see how their grandfather was doing. He stood there for so long, Kat began to fidget. He just appeared to watch him, then finally, he turned to look at her.

“I did some checking,” he said. “My father has control of grandfather’s estates.”

Kat stared at him. Jake had stepped in the room, heard the last of what he said. She turned and watched him, wondering what he’d thought of this.

Jake walked toward George, his head tilted to one side, his hat in his hands. “Do you think they got that doctor to convince the judge your grandfather wasn’t fit to run his estates?”

George shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t know much about stuff like that.” He looked down at their grandfather. “But if there existed laws for that,” he said, shrugging, “I’d say that explains a whole lot about what’s been going on around here.”

Jake nodded, turned and eyed Kat. “We’d better get our hands on that doctor,” he said, and she nodded.

When George left, Kat eyed Jake.

“Where’s our prisoner,” she asked.

He glanced down at her grandfather. “I turned him over to what goes for the sheriff around her,” he said. “They call them the magistrate.”

Kat started.

“Relax,” he said. “He only had the description he’d told you about. He had nothing more to offer us.”

Kat knew that Jake was thorough. If the man had known more—he’d have gotten it. But she couldn’t help be feel disappointed.

As it turned out, the magistrate stopped in before leaving her grandfather’s estates, and then came back with the doctor the next morning, as well. And they knew plenty about what her uncle had been doing with her grandfather’s holdings. In fact, when they showed up, they didn’t seem too happy about Kat blocking her uncle from seeing her grandfather anymore. They wouldn’t listen to any speculation about her uncle poisoning her grandfather. And neither would the doctor. He claimed that the medicine had been necessary for her grandfather’s violent, delusional state.

She couldn’t grasp that this could really be happening in his own home. Dawning slowly descended on her, as she realized her uncle had planned for this occasion, and she, Kid and Jake only came out looking like the bad guys—trying to block her uncle from
helping
her grandfather.

Worse, her grandfather couldn’t even testify for himself—since they’d managed to get him into such a weakened state—he only babbled most of the time.

Jake hired their own doctor, but her uncle only told the doctor that her grandfather had a well-known physician watching over him for his depression. The magistrate seemed satisfied with this and left—leaving her grandfather completely vulnerable to her uncle’s poisonings.

Kat was sure that when her grandfather did die—and she was painfully aware that he was right around the corner of doing just that—no one would think anything of it.

Frustrated, Kat had never been more ready to start a range war in the middle of a city. She didn’t know what she could do about this—but she knew she’d never sit back and let her uncle finish killing her grandfather—not even if she had to stop her uncle herself.

Understand Your Enemy

Liam stood waiting for Kat, when she came downstairs early the next morning.
He stood quietly with his back to the room, staring out the window across the grounds.

Kat had nearly descended the stairs when she’d spotted him, and now she stood on the third stair from the bottom, gaping at the back of his head—finding it odd that he’d stood there, so still that it had taken her that long to notice him.

She had to go home—because she was losing her touch.

She stood there, that way, so unnerved by that notion, she’d failed to see him turn around, though she stared right at him. She saw—but didn’t see.

She saw a much younger man—actually a boy. A boy, who must have been around eight or nine years old. He stood at the same window, in much the same manner as Liam. But that couldn’t be right. She hadn’t been to a city of this size, more-or-less a city in the East.

Kat frowned. This must be what it would feel like to have her head ripped out of her body. Her mouth went dry, and Kat worked to bring back some moisture. Yet that did nothing for her shaky knees.

What on earth was wrong with her?

Flashes of memory played behind her lids—a child, laughing. A boy holding out his hand. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t know Liam. She’d never met him, until a few days ago.

Kat wanted to turn around and escape back up the stairs, but her limbs seemed to not cooperate with her. She reached out and grabbed the handrail, forcing her body around, with all her will. Her movement caught his attention, and he turned around. He moved toward her, and she strangled on her breath.

He must have realized that he scared her because he stopped, holding out his hand to her in a gesture that should have felt comforting. Yet, once again, she saw the boy doing the same, holding his hand out to the child.

“I know you,” she said, her mouth quivering and betraying her deepest fear.

Liam compressed his lips into a thin smile. “So it would seem,” he said.

That neither confirmed, nor denied, Kat’s outrageous comment. “No!” Kat hissed. “I know you! And I want you to explain how that’s possible.”

He did smile now. “Come, now, Kat,” he said. “We only met the other day.” He closed the distance between them. “You’re pale. Let me help you to the divan so that you might sit.”

She shook her head, and turning she flew up the stairs, like she’d suddenly sprouted wings and she could fly.

Kat literally slid on the marble, trying to maneuver around the corner and into her room. She shifted and slammed the door behind her, locking it for good measure.

She stared at the door.

Someone had better start giving me some answers,” she said out loud. But, of course, no one heard her—so no one gave her the answers she sought.

Someone knocked at her door. Apparently, Liam didn’t plan to leave it alone. She stood there staring at her door for a long moment, then realized what she was doing. She could take the best of men in a knife fight—now she hid behind her door. She immediately unlocked it. The hand maid that her grandfather had assigned to her—or someone else had done so, Kat hadn’t decided which—stood on the other side.

“Liam has asked for you, miss,” she said.

Kat fought not to roll her eyes. “And he couldn’t have told me so himself?”

“It’s not done, miss,” the girl said.

This time Kat did roll her eyes, but she quickly followed the girl back out into the hall and down the stairs.

Liam’s gaze traveled over her, as though he were searching for something. “You are well?” he asked.

“I’m not harmed if that is what you mean,” she said.

He nodded. “There are some things you do not know,” he said. He seemed contrite.

Kat couldn’t help her surprise. “And so you have decided to tell me—these things—that I apparently do not know.”

“It seems only fair,” he said.

She scoured his face for some sign of deceit, something that showed his true intentions, but she saw only what appeared to be genuine regret.

“Okay,” she took the seat he’d indicated earlier. “I’m listening.”

He turned away. He seemed to struggle with what to say—or maybe how to say it—she couldn’t decide which.

He turned back and stared directly at her. “You were stolen when you were a child,” he said.

Kat’s mouth dropped open. Whatever she’d thought he was going to say—this hadn’t been it. “I was what?”

“You were taken from your grandfather.”

Kat sat there, with her mouth open. She closed it. She swallowed and glanced away. The room suddenly seemed too warm, and she stood. He came to her and took her arm.

She stared at him. “Not left with someone—but stolen?” she said. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She reached out and grabbed the buffet. “I have to go outside,” she said. “I need to go outside—right now.”

He guided her out onto the porch and took her over to the rail, where she reached out and clung to it as if it were a lifeline. Indeed, she felt like it
were
. Her world seemed to tip crazily out of control, like it were tilting wildly—and she hadn’t had a thing to drink.

“Please tell me this is a really bad joke,” she demanded.

He stood near her. She assumed he did so because he actually thought she would faint. She set him straight on that score.

“I don’t faint,” she hissed.

He gave her a ghost of a smile. It happened so fast, she thought she might have imagined it. He might be from the city, but he reminded her distinctly of Jake.

“Are you trying to tell me that my father stole his own child?”

He frowned. “No,” he said, “I’m not. Your father died before you were born.”

Kat leaned heavily against the rail. This couldn’t be happening. Of course, he could be lying to her. She stared up at him. But what could he possibly gain by telling her such an outrageous lie?

“I want to see my grandfather,” she demanded.

He nodded. “I agree,” he said. “I would want to do the same, were I you.”

She bit her lip, staring up at him.

“But let me tell you what I know, first,” he said.

“Why?” she demanded.

“I would spare your grandfather the agony of telling you the details,” he said, “if he’s able to speak of it at all.”

Kat swallowed. “Okay,” she agreed. She went to sit in the swing that hung under one of the giant columns. “I’m ready,” she finally said.

He nodded. “Okay, let us see—where to start.” He turned and looked out across the grounds. He seemed fond of doing this. She wondered at that. She wondered if he loved this place, like she loved the wild.

She, too, stared out across the grounds. She could see that. If that were all she ever knew, perhaps she would have loved this place too. It had a kind of captive beauty.

Yeah, captive was the right word. She nearly smiled at her own joke, sad though it was.

“Your father took a bad fall off a horse before you were born,” he said, not turning around. “Your mother was inconsolable. She was devastated. We all were.” He stared at her. “He was a good man—a gentle man. He was—loved.”

She swallowed and glanced away, uncomfortable in the dress she wore, wanting the freedom of her leathers, wanting desperately to feel like she could actually breathe. She didn’t know if it were the wretched corset the handmaid kept insisting she wear—or the horror that Liam kept unfolding before her. Every word only made it worse—not better.

She desperately needed Kid.

She knew that Liam watched her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. He turned, and she had a notion that he wanted to come and comfort her, but he seemed to think better of it and stayed put. She couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Your mother died having you,” he said. “She seemed weak with her grief. They said that her grief took her, not the childbirth.” He stared down at his hands. “She didn’t seem to want to live without him.”

Kat watched him. He seemed—grief stricken. “You loved them?” she asked.

He nodded. “They were good to me. I was an orphan—and they loved me like I was their own son. I loved them too,” he said. He stared at her. “I don’t believe your father fell from his horse.”

Kat’s mouth fell open for what had to be the sixth time that night. The surprises just kept coming.

“Why?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “He was an excellent horseman,” he said. “He was the best.”

She frowned. That must be where she’d gotten it. “But why would someone kill him?” she asked.

His lips compressed together for a long moment. “For the same reason you had to disappear,” he said. “To gain control of all of this,” he said, holding out his hands to indicate the house and lands. “Either they drew the line at killing children,” he said, his tone dry, “or someone saved your life.”

Kat’s brows shot up. “So why bring me back here?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just keep me gone?”

He nodded. “I thought of that. But your grandfather wouldn’t cooperate. He’d decided to leave everything to me.”

She frowned, staring up at his face. “Well, now,” she said. “I guess that sort of rules you out for bringing me back here. You had everything to gain by my staying away.” Kat smiled. “But it does give you a reason for wanting to see me dead.”

He gave her a hard smile. “I love your grandfather as my own. I wanted you back here for him,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want to see you dead—for the same reason.” He turned, stopped and turned back to stare at her. “And because I loved you, even when you were a child.”

She gave him a level stare. Rage burned its way through her heart. “If that’s true,” she snarled. “Then, how is it, exactly, you’ve been allowing them to hold him a prisoner in his own home?”

Liam flinched.

Kat’s lip curled. “So you knew!”

He gaped at her. He appeared tortured. “Of course I knew,” he said. “Who could live here, and not?”

She flew at him, but stopped herself within a hairs breath of his face. “How could you?” she demanded. “How could you live here—and do nothing?!”

He leaned forward, his rage so palatable she could feel it. “Because I don’t have the money,” he said, “or the power. Your uncle does.” He flung his hands wide. “And this isn’t the Wild West,
kitten
, so put your claws away.”

And, with that, he walked away.

An hour later, Kat stood staring at the colt. She realized, as she watched him, she had to be true to herself. Anything else, and she wouldn’t be good for anyone. She couldn’t stay here—even if it broke her grandfather’s heart. But first, she had to help him survive what they’d try to do to him. She couldn’t stay—she had to return to West, but she couldn’t do so while he remained so ill—and in such a weakened state. And who knew how long it would take before he’d recovered sufficiently so he could fight her uncle on his own. She had to return home. Her life was there—and with the man she loved more than life itself.

Kat didn’t have to think about the full implications of this, to know that she couldn’t do that until she’d found a way to stop her uncle—and that might take her years.