Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (20 page)

Both of Meg's children were fine. Thankfully they were so young that Rachel said there was a decent chance they wouldn't remember the horrors their father had put them and their mother through.

Meg had taken her worst battering so far. As badly as she was injured, she had not shed a tear. They'd found her in the bedroom unable to move, her unseeing gaze fixed on the ceiling. Elton had broken her nose and her arm and a couple of ribs, but his worst crime, in Colt's opinion, was forcing himself on her after he'd dragged her back into the house.

They'd gleaned that information from Jones during a lengthy interrogation after Rachel patched up his wounds. Though Meg had always emerged from one of her husband's thrashings with her faith and her smile intact, Colt wondered if that would be the case this time.

Knowing he was headed back to prison for a lengthy stay, Jones had also told them where he and Elton had hidden the fruits of their robberies. Colt would check it out after he got some rest.

He stepped up onto Allison's porch and pulled his muddy boots off before opening both front doors and stepping inside. He'd never been in her house before, but the light of the moon told him it was the perfect setting for her. Neat. Clean. Feminine, without containing an overabundance of froufrou. The moonlight also showed him that the room was empty. He'd expected to find Cilla and Brady sleeping at each end of the oversize sofa.

There were two doors off the parlor. He picked one at random, eased across the wood floors and stepped inside. The moonlight told him he'd chosen right. The silvery luster pierced the frilly curtains hanging at a nearby window, splashing the lacy design of shadow and light over the occupants of an ornate iron bedstead that sat to his right.

He moved nearer.

Curled into a ball, Cilla was asleep on the side against the wall. Brady was in the middle and Allison was on the edge nearest him. Brady was snuggled against her, and her left arm lay across his middle.

A pang of love, sharp and poignant, pierced Colt's heart, bringing tears to his eyes. He wished he were an artist with the ability to capture this perfect picture of a mother and her children. Except that she wasn't their mother and wouldn't be if he couldn't figure out a way to make her believe that his feelings were real and strong.

A wave of bone-deep weariness washed over him. He was too tired to think. There would be time tomorrow to figure out what to do about Allie. A muted sigh trickled from him, and she stirred in her sleep. He waited until she settled again, then bent down and pressed a whisper-soft kiss to her temple. Then he turned and retraced his steps to the parlor.

He needed to go home, but the thought of putting his muddy boots back on and traipsing to the other side of town was more than he thought he could handle. The camelback sofa lured him. He was so tired. Physically and emotionally. Maybe if he sat down for just a minute he could muster enough energy to make it to his own bed....

* * *

“Pa!” The sound of Brady's voice jerked Colt to sudden wakefulness. He bolted upright, just in time to catch Brady in his arms.

Colt closed his eyes and held his son close, breathing in his little-boy scent. He could almost taste Brady's relief and felt his trembling. The previous day had been hard on his kids, too.

“Pa.”

He opened his eyes and saw Cilla standing in the doorway of Allison's bedroom. Colt pried Brady's arms from around his neck and shifted him to one side, holding out an arm toward his daughter, who looked to be wearing a blouse of Allison's for a nightgown. Cilla launched herself across the room, and he was soon holding them both close. He was barely aware of the quick heartfelt “thank you” that raced through his mind at the same moment he spied Allison in the doorway, a floral seersucker wrapper belted around her waist.

She looked warm and rumpled from sleep, and there was a mark down her right cheek where she'd lain on a wrinkle in the pillowcase. She wasn't wearing her spectacles, so she was squinting at him in that familiar, endearing way. He'd no longer mistake it for anger; it was just her attempt to focus better. He smiled in genuine pleasure, wishing he could hold her close, too.

“Thank you.” This time he spoke the words aloud.

“You're welcome,” she said, clearly knowing that he was referring to her watching the children while he was gone.

“We were worried about you, Pa,” Brady said. “But we prayed, and I felt better.”

“I prayed, too.” The words were for Brady, but he was looking at Allison.

He saw her eyes widen.

“There's nothing like staring at death to give you a whole new perspective on life,” he told her with a lopsided grin.

“I suppose not. Did you sleep on my divan?”

He had the grace to look sheepish and ruffled his already tousled hair with a back-and-forth gesture. “I did. I'm sorry. It was the wee hours when I finished at the jail and Ace said for me and Dan to go get some rest, but all I wanted to do was see my kids.”

“Miss Grainger took real good care of us,” Brady said, turning in his father's embrace to look at Allison.

“I'm sure she did. I knew they were all right with you,” he hastened to say, “but I just wanted to...see for myself.”

“That's understandable.”

He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but it sounded as if she did understand. “And then I just sat down to rest a minute before starting across town, and...” He finished the sentence with a shrug.

The little clock on the mantel chimed a melodious song, indicating that it was half past six. Colt scrubbed a hand over his day's growth of whiskers. “I need to go get cleaned up and spell Ace. He's got to be whipped.”

“Elton's dead?”

“Yes.” He saw in her eyes that she wanted to ask how it had happened and who had done it, but she knew it was something not to be discussed in front of Cilla and her brother.

“Miss Meg?” This time it was Cilla who asked the question.

“She's alive.” Recalling the state they'd found her in, Colt couldn't add anything more. Unless something unforeseen happened, he figured that time, as it always had, would heal her physical wounds.

Allison bit down hard on her bottom lip, and he saw tears welling up in her eyes. “I'll ask Rachel if there's anything I can do.”

“I'm sure she'd appreciate that,” he said, giving the kids another hard hug and standing. “The excitement is over. You two go on about your day the way we always do,” he told them.

“I'll see to it that they get home after I give them breakfast.”

He was already headed for the door. “Thanks, Allie,” he said, turning to flash a quick, weary smile. He opened the door, pushed through the screen, stepped outside and pulled on his mud-covered boots. When he turned to give them a final goodbye, he saw one child on each side of Allison, who had an arm around each of them.

“I'll talk to you later.”

The look in her eyes said without words that she knew exactly what kind of talk he was referring to. Before she could even nod, he turned and went down the steps.

* * *

Knowing that Colt was unharmed eased the tension that had gripped Allison ever since Dan had interrupted the church service the day before. She knew that he was right; they had to talk, and womanlike, she wondered what he would say and if it would make any difference to how she felt.

To keep her thoughts at bay, she fixed breakfast for Cilla and Brady and then deposited them at their front door with instructions to do whatever it was that they did when their father was gone. Brady said he had a harmonica session with Lew and Cilla said she planned to sweep and dust until it was time for her piano lesson with Hattie. When Allison asked if they would be okay, Cilla assured her with the first sign of bad temper she'd exhibited in a long time that she could take perfectly good care of her brother since she'd been caring for him for two years without supervision.

Put in her place by a twelve-year-old that Allison knew was miffed at her for her refusal to consider her father as a husband, she left satisfied they would be fine. She headed for the café, knowing it would be abuzz with details of the previous day's ordeal—some of it true, some of it exaggerated and some of it downright lies.

The day was cloudless and summertime gorgeous. The storm had broken the grip of the stifling heat that had oppressed them for so long. The grasses and flowers along the way seemed refreshed, and everything looked clean from the recent washing. They would be right back where they'd been before the storm in a few days, but at least for now things were much more pleasant.

To her surprise, she found Gracie, Big Dan and Win Granville sitting at a table near the back. Both Ellie and Bethany were bustling around taking orders and setting plates with generous helpings of eggs, grits and bacon in front of people engaged in earnest conversation, no doubt about the recent happenings. Dan was tucking away a plate of food with such gusto it looked as if he hadn't eaten for a week. Though he laughed at something Win said, Allison noticed that there was still a hint of strain around his eyes.

Allison gave her sister a wave and crossed to the table. The men rose as politeness demanded, and Gracie jumped up and enveloped her in a friendly hug.

“How are the children?” she asked.

“They're fine. I fed them breakfast and took them home.”

“Have they seen Colt?” Dan asked.

“Um, yes, for a minute early this morning.”

She had no intention of mentioning that he'd been asleep on her sofa. There were gossips in town besides Sarah VanSickle, and Allison had no desire to become the butt of another round of speculation, not when everyone was still mulling over their unusual association. Let them believe that he'd stopped by on his way to relieve Ace.

She took a seat next to Gracie and asked Bethany to bring her a cup of coffee.

“I'm sure there are a dozen different stories going around town about what happened, but you were there,” Allison said to Dan. She wanted to hear from someone with firsthand knowledge what had happened to Colt.

Even though he'd told the story several times, Dan recounted it once more. Allison could only imagine the boredom and wretchedness of the heat as they waited for Elton to make some sort of move.

She clenched her hands in her lap as she sat. With Win feeding him direct questions, Dan painted a realistic picture of the scene with Meg on the porch. She could almost feel the younger woman's pain.

“If Ace hadn't seen Elton with a bead on Colt, and if he hadn't been swatting those dad-blasted mosquitoes, we'd a had another body slung over the saddle. There was a big ol' chunk missin' out of that stump he was leaning against,” Dan said with a weary shake of his head.

Picturing the scene in her mind, Allison felt a little frisson of anxiety scamper down her spine. So Colt had been telling the truth when he'd said he'd come close to death—not that she'd doubted his word, but hearing it from a neutral party gave it extra weight. With her curiosity about Colt satisfied, she asked about Meg.

“She was bad,” Dan said, but added no explanation.

“Rachel was in a bit ago,” Gracie said. “Dan's right. Meg's in a bad way, but Lord willing, she'll heal.”

“Thank heaven.” Allison drained the last swallow of her coffee and stood. “I think I'll go over and see what I can do to help Rachel.”

“I'm sure she'll be glad to see you,” Gracie said.

Allison started toward the counter to pay for her coffee, but Gracie said, “Would you like to hear some good news?”

Smiling, Allison turned. “I think we could all use some good news right about now.”

Gracie blushed and Dan's smile could have given the summer sunshine a run for its money. He reached out a big hamlike hand and covered hers. She glanced from Allison to Win and back again. “Dan and I are getting married.”

Allison hugged and congratulated the two lovebirds and left. Gracie was getting married! Her sweet friend deserved the happiness radiating from her, but Allison couldn't help feeling a little sorry for herself. Would she ever find that kind of joy?

As promised, she went to ask Rachel about helping with Meg however was necessary. Knowing that Allison didn't deal with illness well, Rachel assured her that for the moment, she and her father had things under control and told her that Meg's children were with her family. Allison was just turning to go when Rachel said, “I have a bit of good news.”

“What's that?” Allison asked, almost dreading to hear it since she was already feeling so blue about Gracie's announcement.

Rachel's face positively glowed with delight. “I'm expecting a baby.”

For the span of a heartbeat, Allison wasn't certain she could summon a smile of congratulations. Then she remembered how long Rachel had been alone and how much she must have suffered through the years bringing up an illegitimate child. She deserved her newfound happiness as Mrs. Gabriel Gentry, and she deserved to have a pregnancy she could enjoy. Surely she was a better friend than to begrudge Rachel this wonderful bit of news.

Smiling in spite of her breaking heart, Allison wrapped her arms around her friend and drew her close. “That's marvelous, Rachel,” she said, meaning every word of it. “I bet Gabe is ecstatic.”

“On top of the world.”

* * *

What must it be like to be “on top of the world,” to be filled with joy that seemed to ooze from every fiber of your being? Allison wondered that evening as she sat picking the thread from the ruffles of one of her old dresses.

Plucking out the small stitches kept her mind more or less off her unhappiness. Under subtle pressure from Blythe and Libby, Allison had bowed to the inevitable. Both Granville women supported Ellie's stance about the unsuitability of Allison's wardrobe, so she had decided to revamp her older clothing into styles that the three other women claimed were more suitable.