Early Dawn (3 page)

Matthew met the older man’s gaze. “Us Coulters don’t take charity, Paulson. Your time’s worth something.”

“A dime will do it, then.”

Matthew fished in his left hip pocket, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He handed over the dime and grabbed the packet with his right hand. “Thanks for not sellin’ my watch. Took me a spell to come back for it, and I know your policy is to keep things for only thirty days.”

“No worries. I inscribed that watch for Livvy right before your wedding. I know how precious it must be to you.”

Matthew’s throat went tight. He touched the brim of his hat again and exited the shop. Once on the boardwalk, he opened the envelope and tipped the watch out onto his palm. The gold gleamed in the late-summer sunlight like a puddle of freshly churned butter. His heart hurt as he flipped the watch over to read the inscription on the back.
Love Always, Matthew. Forever Yours, Livvy, 1882.
Tears blurred his vision as he slipped the timepiece into his watch pocket. Forever, he realized now, was a very long time, and he had to face it without her.

With difficulty, he remounted the horse and rode slowly home, trying not to jostle his shoulder or ribs. Hoyt, two years his junior, met him at the ranch gate. The younger man’s sun-browned face bore the Coulter stamp, a bladelike nose, Irish blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a squared, stubborn chin. In a rugged, lean way, Hoyt was a handsome man, but like Matthew, he could never lay claim to having fine features.

“You’re goin’ after ’em, aren’t you?” Hoyt asked.

Matthew nodded. “Have to. What they did can’t go unpunished.”

“I’m goin’ with you, then.” Hoyt jerked off his battered hat and raked thick fingers through his dark brown hair. “Us Coulters stick together. It’s how Pa raised us. I can’t let you do this alone.”

Matthew sighed and rested his crossed wrists over the saddle horn. “Pa needs you and the other boys here, Hoyt. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept.”

“You can’t take on six outlaws by yourself!”

“I’ll brush up on my shooting before I light out, and every day after. By the time I catch up with them, I’ll be as good with a gun as they are. I’ll be fine.” In truth, Matthew didn’t care if the bastards killed him. Without Livvy, he had nothing left to live for. “You’ve got to stay here, where you’re most needed.”

“Pa can do without me for a few weeks. Zed and Gareth can do my share of the work for a spell.”

“The Sebastians have stayed one step ahead of the law for good long while, Hoyt. What makes you think I can catch up with them in only a few weeks? It may take a lot longer than that. I’m hoping not, but there you have it.”

“You shouldn’t go after ’em without somebody to watch your back, big brother.”

The way Matthew saw it, their mother already stood to lose one son. There was no point in doubling her grief by putting Hoyt’s life at risk.

“Should or shouldn’t aside, I’m not taking you with me.” Matthew reined his horse to go around his sibling. “The family needs you here.”

As Matthew rode toward the log stable, he trailed his gaze over the ranch, which had been dubbed the Lazy J. The name had never made a lick of sense to Matthew. There was nothing lazy about raising beeves and horses. His pa had sweat blood to clear enough land to support his growing herd of cattle, and that wasn’t to mention all the hours of labor it had taken to build the roomy log home, the outbuildings, and all the fences. Even now, at almost sixty, Matthew Coulter Senior worked from the first crack of dawn until well after dark, and all four of his sons did as well.

At the door of the stable, Matthew swung from the saddle, supporting the bulk of his weight with his right arm until his feet settled on solid ground. A mere stone’s throw away sat the little log house that he had built for Livvy. He didn’t allow his gaze to wander in that direction. He hadn’t walked over there yet, because he dreaded going through the empty rooms. They would be just as he and his wife had left them on that fateful afternoon, her Bible resting on the nightstand, her Sunday shoes tucked toe first under the bed, her church dress draped over the back of the rocker. He didn’t know if he could handle that.

He would have to soon, though. A man couldn’t hit the trail without a few changes of clothes. He’d give himself a couple more weeks to heal, target-practicing the entire while, and then it would be time to head out. His wife had endured a terrible and painful attack, and he had a score to settle with the Sebastian boys.

Matthew wouldn’t rest until either he was six feet under or every last member of that gang was dead.

 

Weak, rain-drenched sunlight filtered through the lace curtains at the window of the Pacific Express passenger train, casting a dappled pattern on the white sheet of stationery that Eden Paxton clutched in her hand. As the luxury car chugged along the track to crest yet another steep grade on its way to Denver, she reread the words written on the paper for at least the tenth time in a week. Assimilating their meaning gave her the same sense of vertigo she often experienced when she looked down from high places. In short, her whole world had been tipped off its axis, all her hopes, dreams, and plans drifting away from her like pollen in a high wind.

Her fiancé, John Parrish, had ended their engagement, not because he no longer loved her but because his highfalutin parents, San Franciscans of considerable social prominence, disapproved of Eden’s lineage. According to them, she lacked a “purebred” pedigree and therefore was unsuitable to be John’s wife or the mother of his children. John hadn’t even had the courage to tell Eden in person but instead had sent her this dreadful letter.

Five years of my life,
she thought bitterly,
wasted on a pampered milksop who lacks the backbone to defy his father and mother.
Even more telling to Eden, John had failed to stop his parents from vilifying her reputation in order to gain public support for him. It was unseemly for a man to end his engagement to a respectable young lady without just cause, so the Parrish family had whispered the ugly truth about Eden’s illegitimate birth to anyone who would listen, not caring a whit about the embarrassment they might cause Eden or her mother, Dory. Every time Eden thought about it, she burned with anger. Yesterday morning she and her mother had left the city in disgrace, scorned by lifelong friends, snubbed in places of business, and turned away from houses they’d visited for years. They were now pariahs in San Francisco, a place they had both considered home. The humiliation had been complete and as sharp as a stiletto.

How could John have allowed his parents to behave so shabbily? Eden didn’t care so much about the consequences for herself. All the fussiness of city life had set her teeth on edge at times, and she’d grown impatient more than once with her flibbertigibbet friends who cared more about their appearance than anything else. But it had broken Eden’s heart to see her mother mistreated. A stiff-necked butler at the home of one prominent family had glared down his nose at Dory Paxton as if she were a cockroach and ordered her off his employer’s porch. Dory had handled this dismissal like a grand lady, holding her head high as she quit the property, but Eden would never forget the pain she’d glimpsed in her mother’s eyes.

As if guessing her daughter’s thoughts, Dory curled slender fingers over Eden’s wrist, forcing her hand and the letter to her lap. “Please, darling, no more fretting on my account.” A delicate blonde with gentle blue eyes, Dory flashed an overbright smile. “I’ve wanted to live closer to your brothers for
years
. Truly I have. Every time we’ve visited them at one of their ranches, my heart has broken a little when it came time to leave. I thought about relocating. The only reason I never acted on it was because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind. You were so in love with John. Your future seemed to be all mapped out. I couldn’t be in two places at once, so I decided to stay put.”

Eden no longer felt certain that she had ever truly loved John. She’d shed a few tears after receiving his letter, but then anger had taken over. Where was the heartbreak that she should be feeling? Why wasn’t she devastated and filled with despair? When a woman truly loved a man, she surely felt something besides outrage and secret relief when he walked away.

The thought troubled Eden. How could she have misread her own feelings so completely? Even more worrisome, why had she never seen how weak and spineless John was when it came to displeasing his parents? She considered herself to be a fair judge of character. With four older brothers to educate her, she’d learned at an early age that not all men could be trusted. And yet she’d trusted John, accepting all his flimsy excuses for postponing their nuptials, never once suspecting that he no longer wanted to marry her. Perhaps that was why she felt only anger—because he’d made a complete fool of her. If Eden possessed one trait in goodly measure, it was pride. Being made to look ridiculous didn’t sit well with her.

“Everything will work out fine,” Dory went on. “You’ll see. Remember how wonderful it was when we lived on the ranch in California before Ace started winning big at cards? Despite the struggles, we pulled together after Joseph Senior died, and we all became so close—a real family.”

Privately, Eden couldn’t help but think the term
ranch
was a little too grandiose for the scraggly patch of land and three-room shack that they’d been forced to call home when they finally reached California. But her mother was right otherwise. As a family, they had made many wonderful memories during those lean, trying years—target-practicing, going on hunting trips for meat, playing games in the yard after the day’s work was completed, and then gathering for evening meals, grateful to have food, no matter how simple the fare. Later, when Ace began winning at cards, their circumstances had drastically improved, a rags-to-riches story, but when Eden revisited some of her fondest childhood memories, she often recalled the shack and the wondrous love that had warmed every drafty room.

Sticking to her subject, Dory chattered away. “Ace has made some very sound investments on my behalf over the years, you know. Soon I’ll have the proceeds from the sale of the house in San Francisco. There will be plenty of capital to start over fresh. No Name is such a friendly little town. I’m sure we’re both going to love it there.”

Eden hoped that would be the case, but deep down, she doubted it. For one, her mother was accustomed and well suited to living in a city where she could enjoy art museums, a well-stocked public library, shopping opportunities galore, and a variety of social activities. No Name, Colorado, offered few of those amenities. There was also the fear that Eden’s remarkable resemblance to her sister-in-law, Caitlin, would raise suspicion. People in No Name might snub Dory once they realized the truth about her past—that their town drunk, Connor O’Shannessy, Caitlin’s father and now deceased, had taken wrongful advantage of Dory twenty-four years ago and left her pregnant with Eden, his bastard daughter. The fine citizens of No Name might not dress as richly as Dory’s faithless friends in San Francisco, but under the homespun, they could be just as self-righteous and narrow-minded. None of them would want to associate with Eden or with the woman who had given birth to her.

Keeping her thoughts about that to herself, Eden stuffed John’s letter back into her beaded reticule and snapped the bag closed. Over the last week, Dory had endured insult after insult, and Eden didn’t have the heart to deal her yet another blow by playing devil’s advocate. Besides, maybe Eden was wrong, and the good people of No Name would welcome them into their midst with open arms. If not, Eden would deal with the problem when it arose. For now, it felt good to see her mother smiling again.

“I’ll love being able to see my brothers on a daily basis,” Eden said with forced cheerfulness. “Little Ace is over two years old now! Can you believe it? I’ll bet he’s absolutely darling.”

“About the age of our little towheaded traveling companion,” Dory replied.

At mention of the child seated behind them, Eden glanced over her shoulder to smile at his mother. The slender brunette had done a remarkable job of keeping the toddler entertained during the journey from San Francisco, reading him stories, playing games with him, and helping him to draw pictures. Occasionally, though, the little fellow escaped into the aisle and raced madly back and forth to burn off excess energy. Whenever he stopped near Dory’s seat, the older woman plucked interesting objects from her reticule and allowed him to handle them. He was particularly fond of her little mirror and heavily laden ring of house keys.

Returning her attention to her mother, Eden said, “As much as I’ve missed my brothers, I’m excited about seeing the little ones. I have a niece I’ve never clapped eyes on! In Ace’s last letter, he said she’s already smiling and trying to make sounds. It’ll be so much fun to play with her.” Born in December, Dory Sue Keegan was the newest addition to Ace’s growing family. Eden didn’t approve of parents naming children after living family members. To her way of thinking, the practice created unnecessary confusion for the children. But she was pleased that it made her mother happy to have the baby named after her. “If she’s as beautiful as Ace claims, she’ll be a delight to behold. Do you suppose her eyes may change from blue to brown when she gets older?”

Dory nodded. “It’s possible. But I’m hoping not. With Caitlin’s fair complexion and Ace’s black hair, she’ll be truly breathtaking if her eyes remain blue.” Dory studied Eden’s face, a slight frown furrowing her brow. “If the baby resembles Caitlin as much as Ace says she does, she also looks exactly like you. How are you going to feel about that? The first time you met Caitlin, I know it gave you a start.”

Meeting Ace’s wife the first time had given Eden far more than a start. It had been like seeing her own reflection in a mirror and had shocked her to the marrow of her bones. Caitlin was a bit shorter than Eden, but otherwise, they looked enough alike to be twins, sharing the same fine features, wide blue eyes, and flame red hair. Until meeting Caitlin, Eden had accepted on a superficial level that Connor O’Shannessy was her biological father, but the reality of it had never been driven home until she stood face-to-face with her sister-in-law and saw the undeniable evidence of her parentage with her very own eyes.