Promises Reveal (33 page)

With a grunt, she pushed to her feet, her body feeling eighty, her soul feeling ninety. “You are entirely too used to getting your own way.”

A bit of his usual humor was in his “Not that I’ve noticed.”

It comforted her.

 
BRAD WAITED, THAT restless determination that had been holding him upright through the agony of the long ride surging beneath the pain as Evie stood. There were times when a man had to give in to weakness, and for him this was it. He needed to hold Evie more than he needed to take his next breath.

As soon as she settled in beside him, the sense of rightness increased and the tension eased. He bit back a groan as the mattress shifted, knowing she’d leap away the second she knew he was in pain. For a woman used to risking everything for the satisfaction she got at the moment, she was amazingly stingy when it came to him enjoying his moments.

“Are you all right?”

He cupped her buttock in his hand and forced a smile. “Getting better by the minute.”

Hair tumbled out of her braid, softening the sternness of her glare. “Would you tell me the truth if you weren’t?”

“I’m a man of God.”

“A fact you only trot out when it’s convenient.”

“Want to hear me spout scripture?”

“Not particularly.”

“It might help you feel more comfortable with my job.”

“It would put me to sleep,” she grumbled as she settled against him.

A slap on her rear got her attention. “I believe that’s blasphemy.”

“Huh. More like self-preservation.” She snuggled a little closer. He held her a little tighter. “You can be long-winded when you want something.”

“And what do you think I want from you?”

That pulled her up short. “I don’t really know.”

That made two of them. “Well, for right now, I’d like to feel you lying against me, close enough that I can feel your breath. How’s that sound to you?”

Those tears were still coming so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she said, “I want to feel you breathing, too.”

He made a note. Evie had the tendency to surrender at the oddest times. “Then stop fooling around and come here.”

As soon as she rested full length against him, he could breathe. “Move on up a bit.” She did—gingerly, carefully.

Torture wasn’t this tough. “Sweetheart, put your head on my shoulder. I won’t break.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

“No, you won’t.”

When her head rested on his shoulder, her arm carefully settled across his chest. He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

This was right.

He could feel her eyes upon him, searching his expression. Tears soaked his skin. “Got to admit, this is good.”

“My crying?”

“No, just you here with me.” The shudder that rippled through her started high and ended at her toes. Brushing his lips across her hair, he whispered, “I’m sorry you were scared.”

Her hand fisted on his chest. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“I’m glad you cared.”

“I’m your wife.”

“I’m glad for that, too.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Must be some of the laudanum was still in his blood. He was sure of it when she kissed his chest and sighed almost too softly to be separated from her breath. “So am I.”

All his senses focused on the impression of her kiss while his mind wrestled with the implications. He was falling in love with his wife. Who the hell would have thought it? “Told you I’d grow on you.”

“Just like a wart.”

Balancing the weight of her braid in his hand, he smiled. “Right under your skin.”

The puff of her laughter blew over his throat. For a few minutes, Evie didn’t say anything and neither did he. The ache of his wound, the weakness of his body, they were all secondary to the sweetness of just lying here listening to the birds sing beyond the open window. It all seemed so peaceful, safe. But it wasn’t.

He didn’t kid himself that Casey would just pack up his toys and go away. It wasn’t his nature. Casey saw the world as a series of interconnected injustices that built on each other. Each one designed to test his mettle, each one surmounted as proof of his right to take what he wanted. And what he wanted was Brenda. To Casey, Brenda was like a big, shiny gold nugget. A prize beyond price. He’d do anything to possess her, and kill anyone who got in his way. And right now, he was thinking Brad was standing in his way. That was going to be a problem. He kissed the top of Evie’s head. For all of them.

“Did Cougar post guards?”

“Asa and Jackson.”

There wasn’t better. Asa could be rattlesnake mean when the mood took him and second to none with a gun. Jackson wasn’t far behind. The only one better was Elijah, but there was no figuring where he stood these days.

“Right before they went after whoever shot you.”

“Shit.” They should have waited for him to talk to them. Warn them.

“They’ll be all right, won’t they?”

He had to believe they would. They were marshals, had years of experience behind them. Casey wouldn’t be the first snake in the grass they came up against. “Yes.”

Some of his doubt must have bled through. “I didn’t try to stop them.”

“When?”

“When they said they were going. I wanted them to find who hurt you and I wanted them to kill him.”

“Wanted?”

“Lying here with you, I’m worried about what could happen, and what that would cost Jenna and Mara. I think maybe I should have convinced them to let the shooter go.”

She’d have had as much luck teaching pigs to fly. “There’s nothing you could have said to stop them. Some things a man can’t let go.”

“Maybe I could have gotten them to wait.”

He tipped her chin up, meeting her gaze and holding it. He had enough guilt for both of them. She didn’t need to be taking on any. “No, you couldn’t.”

And Casey knew that. He would have done his research before he set up his little attack, finding out who was offering Brad protection; therefore he would be expecting the McKinnelys. It was the code. Bushwhack a man and his friends would come calling. Considering Casey had to know the repercussions of his actions, Brad had to wonder if that had been Casey’s plan all along. To lure the McKinnelys away from their homes. Away from town, because for sure he wouldn’t leave the area until he’d retrieved Brenda. Shit.

Evie shifted and her braid fell over his arm. He wrapped it around his wrist. “I don’t want you leaving the house without someone going along.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know that the man gunning for me won’t include you in his anger.”

“This Casey?”

“Yes.”

“Why does he hate you so?”

“He thinks I stole his woman.”

Her fingers curled into his chest, the nails digging into his skin. “Did you?”

That she’d asked should’ve anger him. But it didn’t. “No.”

For a moment there was silence, and he couldn’t tell whether she believed him. Then she nodded. “Do you think he’ll try again?”

“Yes.” Casey didn’t have many limits. Evie had to be protected against all costs.

“Then we’d better get ready.”

She slipped away from him, ducking under the restriction of his arm.

“Evie?”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

She was as good as her word, but when she came back into the room, she was packing a revolver and a box. The gun looked so out of place in her small hand. Settling on the bed beside him, she held out the weapon. “Show me how to load this.”

His instinct was to say “no.” He didn’t want his past touching her, but the reality was that it already had. It was now a threat. She was right—she needed to be ready.

He met her gaze and held out his hand. “You don’t pick up a gun without being willing to pull the trigger.”

Placing the gun in his hand, she said with cold calm, “I’ll pull the trigger.”

Maybe she would. Holding the gun up, he checked it over. “Where’d you get this?”

“Cougar gave it to me.”

“It’s a good choice.” He checked the hammer and the action. “This has got a strong pull.” He closed the chamber, cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger. The hammer came down with a sharp click. Evie jumped.

He looked over at her. “It’s only a weapon if it has bullets.”

She frowned. “I know that.”

“Good, because if you jump like that when you fire, you’re going to be taking the shots rather than giving them.”

She hitched her knee up to see better. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Also keep in mind that the gun has a kick and you have to prepare for it.” He pointed the gun at the ceiling, surprised at how hard it was to coordinate the effort, how tiring it was to hold the position. “Lock your elbows like this. Take a breath like this, release half”—he took a breath, steadying himself into the pull and pulled the trigger—“then fire.”

The hammer clicked down. This time Evie only winced. Shit, he hoped she never had cause to use it. “And you can relax. This gun has a strong pull. It’s not going to go off accidentally.”

“Thank God for that.”

At this point he’d thank God for any help. This whole situation was going to hell in a handbasket—fast.

“That pull means you’re going to have to pull that trigger like you mean it and you’re going to have to allow that extra split second that it’s going to take you to pull the trigger when you’re planning your shot.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t plan on any quick-draw contests?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I was only joking.”

He couldn’t joke about this. “This is serious, Evie. If you feel you’re in a position where you have to point this weapon, I don’t want you to hesitate. I don’t want you worrying about right and wrong; trust your gut and shoot. Don’t give them a chance to fire first. There’s no playing fair in a gunfight. It all boils down to who has the guts to take the shot.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“I wasn’t always a minister.”

“What were you before?”

“Young and foolish.”

She blinked. “I find that hard to believe.”

So did he, when he sat here living a life that could have been his if he hadn’t let his father twist him into believing there was no other path than the one he took. “Doesn’t change the truth.”

She gave him a strange look. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

He held out the gun. “Think hard before you take this.”

She licked her lips. “I have.”

“Unless you’re sure you can pull the trigger, don’t even pick this up.”

“I know.” She took it from his hand. He couldn’t believe he was lying in bed—shot, so weak that just lifting a revolver had worn him out—teaching his wife how to fire a weapon. He sighed, looked out the window, heard the townspeople going about their business beyond. “This isn’t how I saw our marriage going.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Were you under the impression that this is how
I
wanted it to go? Trust me, it isn’t. But it’s what we have, so we’ll deal with it.”

Yeah, he guessed they would.

“How do you know this woman that this Casey thinks you stole?”

He wasn’t sure how much to reveal.

“I grew up with her in a town real similar to Cattle Crossing.”

She cautiously pulled back the hammer. Too carefully. “Did you love her?”

He eased the muzzle away. “Not like your tone implies. Brenda had a hard life. I just got used to protecting her and she got used to depending on me.”

“And she still does?”

“Brenda’s fragile.”

“And you care about her.”

He didn’t like that bite in her tone. “Like I would care about a sister if I had one.”

“And that caring is why Casey is determined to kill you?”

“He’s got a mean temper and he likes to exercise it on his wife. I’ve stepped in a few times. Apparently, Brenda finally ran away, and he’s convinced it was to me.”

“Because she loves you?”

“No. She loves him.”

“Even though he beats her?”

He shook his head. He’d never understood it, no matter how many times he’d seen it. All Casey had to do was put on that hangdog “I’m sorry” face, and Brenda forgot all about her bruises and started making apologies of her own. He’d thought, when little Brenna came along, things would change, but they hadn’t. It’d just given Casey one more thing to own and Brenda one more thing to worry about. “There’s no accounting for people’s feelings.”

Her gaze snapped up. “You feel guilty.”

He shrugged, weariness, old and new, dragging at his bones. “It’s hard not to.”

“You’re a minister, not a miracle worker.”

“Thank you for that.”

Easing the hammer down, she tilted her head to the side and studied him with those discerning artist’s eyes.

“She’s why you feel so strongly about helping Erica, isn’t she?”

“Partly. And there’s also the fact that the law is just wrong in the choice it leaves.”

“Yes, it is.” She held up the gun. “Show me how to load this.”