The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 (26 page)

Jo smiled and appreciated her sister all the more. They walked into the cabin together. A shadow of doubt and an impending darkness hung over her shoulder. Something was wrong and she didn’t know yet what it was.

An hour later, John walked into the house, his expression quite dire. Since he married Frankie, he had become the type of man who smiled frequently; to see him serious sent Jo’s instincts into overdrive. She had been repairing the rips in her tattered blue dress. The needle shook in her hand.

“What is it?” Frankie got to her feet, the unfinished curtains forgotten on the table in front of her.

“Jo, you need to talk to Declan. He’s outside.” His cryptic words only heightened Jo’s discomfort.

Since she’d woken up alone, dread had coiled inside her, waiting like an adder to strike. Declan had shown her amazing pleasure and received none in return. Then he had disappeared. She got to her feet, heart thudding and mouth as dry as cotton. Whatever was going to happen was not good.

“Would you like me to accompany you,
cherie
?” Frankie’s green eyes reflected genuine concern.

“No, thank you. I will go alone.” Jo had always been an independent girl, but now she was a woman. Someone who was strong enough to face what awaited her outside.

The metal latch on the door was cool on her skin. She walked out and squinted against the bright sunlight. The herd of horses was gone, leaving behind the remnants of their visit—the scent, the droppings, the hoof prints in the loose dirt. She looked around and spotted a large presence by the barn.

Declan.

She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. With her heart in her throat, she walked toward the man she loved.

Her steps faltered when she spotted Apollo, sporting a new saddle, tied to the hitching post beside him. Declan looked impossibly handsome, the sun reflecting off his black hair, making it appear as though streaks of blue had been painted on his locks. Declan looked at the ground, his hand tight on the strap of a bag.

He was leaving.

“Declan, what is happening?” Her voice was barely audible as confusion slammed into her.

“I’m leaving, lass. I ain’t the man for you. John said you can stay here as long as you like.” He gestured to Apollo. “I’ll take the horse, but I gave John all the money I had. Use it how you like.”

He took hold of Apollo’s reins and started to turn away. Fury raked through her, shoving aside any pain.

“How dare you?” She clenched her fists tight enough to make her nails bite into her palms.

“I’m doing what’s best for ye.” He didn’t even look her in the eye.

“You are a coward to run away from what we have.”

“It’s for the best.”

“That is a lie. What is best for me is to be with you. I love you, Declan. Does that mean nothing to you?”

His gaze snapped to hers, the blue sharp and biting. “How could you possibly love me?” His voice was ragged and raw. “I am nothing but a street boy who spent most of his life knee deep in shit and blood. I’m nothing.”

Her heart ached for him, for the way he thought of himself. She saw the true Declan beneath the rough exterior and self-hatred. She loved him for who he was, not who he’d been or who he thought he was.

“You are one of the best people I have ever met.” She cupped his face in her hands, the rasp of his whiskers rough on her skin. “You taught me what it meant to give up everything for someone.”

He tried to pull away but she held fast, unwilling to let him run from her. “My soul is too stained, lass. I can’t be who you want me to be.”

His whispered words pierced like a sharp knife. “No, I do not believe that. I love you, Declan Callahan, and nothing,
nothing
, you say will change that.”

“Then I feel sorry for you. You’ll have nothing but heartache.” He turned and left her standing there, dragging his emotional chains behind him.

Jo stood there for a few seconds, devastated by his refusal. It took a minute for her to swallow the lump in her throat before her feet started moving. She ran toward his retreating back, with his slumped shoulders, a posture of defeat.

She ran at him like a bull, full of righteous anger. Jo leapt on his shoulders, her fists flying. He grunted at the assault. She punched him, screaming as many curse words as she could remember.

“You foolish bastard. How dare you goddamn give up so fucking easily? Do you not realize what a gift you have shit on?” She gained momentum with ease curse and swing of her fist.

He tried to grab her, but she was small enough he couldn’t reach her. She continued banging on his shoulders, her fury blazing hot inside her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unbidden and unwelcome, but she couldn’t stop to wipe them away.

“I love you, you son of a bitch. I will
not
let you run away like a goddamn coward.”

“What the hell is going on?” John stepped in the yard and stared at them, wide-eyed.

“None of your goddamn business,” Jo snarled.

Her new brother-in-law retreated with a look of sympathy for Declan. That just fueled her anger even more. Her fists grew tired and her muscles ached from hanging onto him as though she rode a horse.

“Jo, please stop.” His soft request penetrated her anger. She paused to catch her breath and ended up sliding down until her feet touched the dirt. Her forehead rested on his back, her tears wetting the fabric.

He turned around and picked her up, wrapping his wonderful arms around her shaking form. “Ah, little one, what am I to do with you?”

“Get married, build a future and have babies with me.” She spoke against his chest, her voice rough from the emotional storm.

His response was a half sob, half chuckle. She loved him all the more for that. He showed the world a dark shadow of the real Declan. Inside he felt things so deeply, it had cracked his soul. She would be the healing balm he needed to feel whole again.

“Please, Declan, do not give up on me, on us.” She held onto him as hard as she could, as though she could make him give into her request by sheer force. He couldn’t walk away from her. She would never love anyone the way she loved Declan. He had become the other half of who she was. Jo hadn’t known how much she could be, could do, until he showed her what she’d been hiding from.

She couldn’t allow him to do the same dance.

“I’m not the man for you. How about you pick some handsome rancher who will provide for you?” He snorted. “I’ve got the clothes on my back and the dirt on my skin to show for myself. Stay here with your sister and pretend you never met me.”

He peeled her off his chest and set her away from him. She cried openly, gulping sobs from her gut, as she broke inside, rejected. He turned his back and walked away, taking Jo’s heart with him.

As he disappeared around the corner of the barn with Apollo in tow, she fell to her knees and pressed her forehead into the cool dirt. Her tears fell, creating a puddle of agony, the mud streaking her face. Declan was gone.

Jo was alone. Again.

Declan stopped three feet from her view. He leaned against the barn, barely able to stand. Nothing she said or did would erase the stains from his soul. He put his hands on his knees and let silent tears fall. For the man he wanted to be, the man she needed him to be and the man he would never be. Jo deserved so much more. It nearly killed him to walk away from her. It still might.

He staggered around the back of the barn, then vomited up what little he’d eaten that morning. Embarrassed, he wiped his face on his sleeve and began the long walk to nowhere.

Declan would disappear from her life and someday she would forget what he looked like. He would never forget a single thing about her. Ever. Josephine Chastain would forever reside in his heart.

Each moment they had been together would be a singular treasure. He could bring them out one at a time, savor them, let them feed a bite of happiness in the darkness he would slink back into.

Declan was a pitiful fool. He knew it and so did she.

He walked to the horse waiting for him. It was time to meet up with Sam. She’d offered him a job and he’d taken the chance to learn how to handle horses from the gruff woman. It wasn’t a home or a family, but it was something even if the rest of his life was an empty shell.
 

Frankie found her sister in tears on the ground and was at a loss. Jo never cried, even when she broke her wrist at the age of five. She always applied logic and thought her way through the pain. To see her in pieces distressed Frankie.

“Oh,
cherie,
come let us go inside.” She pulled Jo to her feet and guided her into the cabin. John held the door open, his brows slammed together in a frown.

“He shouldn’t have left.”

“I am sure he did what he thought was best for both of them.” Frankie had a hard time excusing the tears, though. She knew Jo loved him but didn’t know how deep those feelings ran. Until now.

Jo sat down heavily in a chair and immediately put her head down on her arms. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Frankie met John’s gaze, and he nodded in silent approval, then left the cabin. She stirred the embers in the stove and made fresh coffee. While tea might be a lady’s drink, for this occasion they needed something stronger.

After a few minutes, the shaking subsided, but Jo kept her head down. Frankie settled the grounds with cold water, then poured two cups. She dipped into the precious store of sugar to sweeten the bitter brew. She set the cups on the table and added a few slices of bread with honey drizzled on top.
 

Frankie sat down and put her hand on Jo’s head, petting her as she had done when they were children. “
Cherie
, we must talk of this and then move on.”

“I do not wish to talk.”

“Then eat. I have sweetened coffee and honeyed bread. I insist you partake in this feast.” Frankie used her best elder sister voice.

Jo lifted her head and snuffled loudly. Frankie handed her a handkerchief and waited while her sister took off her glasses, blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“I do not understand why he left.” Jo picked up the coffee and took a sip. “I do appreciate you making this for me.”

“Eat some bread.” Frankie pushed the plate toward her. “It will help settle your stomach.”

Jo shook her head. “I do not believe I shall eat until much later. Perhaps days. My stomach feels as though I swallowed an iron.”

Frankie sipped her own coffee. “I am ready to listen if you wish to talk.”

“He left because he believes he is not good enough to be my husband. No matter that I love him and he loves me. Declan is a stubborn jackass who gave up instead of fighting for us.” Jo sounded more like herself, the crisp words snapping through the air. “I shall never forgive him.”

“Yes, you will. I hope he comes to his senses and regrets what he has done. Then when he returns you can make him grovel and then forgive him.” Frankie sincerely hoped that did happen. She knew what it meant to love so deeply your heart and soul were entwined with your mate. Almost losing John was the most painful experience she’d endured, which was saying a great deal. “Loving someone is a gift, Josephine. One that can be painful but, ultimately, full of joy.”

Jo looked at her with red-rimmed eyes and agony in her expression. “Is it possible to return the gift?” Her laugh held no humor.

Frankie was more than worried about her sister, but for now, she and John could give her a place to live and all the love they had. It would have to be enough.

Jo slept fitfully that night, her mind full of images of Declan. Smiling, scowling, being thoughtful, kissing her and most of all, full of pain as he said goodbye. She would hurt forever at the loss of the man she loved.

Frankie and John had done their best to make her feel welcome, to let her know she could live with them indefinitely. It wasn’t what she wanted, though. How was she to make a living? There were no students for twenty miles at least. It would take years for her sister and brother-in-law to have children old enough to need a teacher.

She had to do something. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden for the rest of her life. Frankie deserved better than that. Jo deserved better than that. She had to make a decision.

By morning, she had slept little, but Josephine knew what she was going to do. She would write a series of books about life in the American West and publish them as J.C. Callahan. Perhaps her adventures with Declan might be pleasurable to readers around the country. It would also allow her to relive each moment she shared with him.

It would have to be enough to sustain her.

Chapter Eleven

April 1849

Declan wiped the sleet off his forehead with his sleeve and kept his head down. The spring storm had come up suddenly, leaving him no option for cover. The prairie was flat with barely enough trees to provide shelter. Night had fallen with the clouds and sleet, making it difficult to see more than two feet in front of his face.

Yet he forged onward, driven to reach the Malloy ranch. To reach her.