Wishes on the Wind (62 page)

    Frantic, Meg attempted to free herself from David, only to have him hold her more firmly than before.

    "Please, Meg. I can help you if you'll only tell me what happened."

    "A gun…" Meg's voice emerged in a whisper. "Sean had a gun, and he left with Terry. They're going to kill someone. I was afraid it was you, but"

    Meg halted in midsentence as David's face whitened and his hands fell to his sides. Realization dawning, she rasped incredulously, "You know who they're going after, don't you…? You must tell me so I can stop them!"

    "When did they leave?"

    "Awhile ago. I'm not sure how long."

    David reached for the doorknob. "Stay here, Meg. You'll be safe. I'll take care of this."

    "No!" Meg clutched his arm as he shouted for the guard. "I'm going with you!"

    David's expression hardened as he turned to the policeman suddenly at his side. "Keep Mrs. Donovan here, Sergeant." And then to the men at the door. "
WilkinsMcGregor
, come with me!"

    The two policemen fell in behind David and Meg went abruptly still. "David, I trusted you…"

    Holding her gaze for a long, silent moment, David turned and walked quickly out the door.

    |Sean wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his arm, aware that the heat of the sunny, late August day was not the sole cause of his discomfort. Surveying the street from the position of concealment he and his companions had occupied for the past hour, he glanced at the men beside him, aware that their faces bore a similar sheen. There was not a trace of nervousness    in Terry's careful scrutiny of the street, or on Jim McKenna's smooth, boyish face, and he wondered if they were shaking inside as much as he.

    Sean tightened his hand around the pistol in his pocket, aware that his companions carried similar weapons. He looked down the nearly deserted street again. The lateness of the hour had lengthened the shadows of the uneven row of frame buildings against the dusty street, and a small dog wandering aimlessly near the corner was the only sign of movement.

    Impatience ticked Sean's cheek as his clear eyes squinted tighter. The supper hour was already in progress, accounting for the lack of traffic on the street, and for the past hour and a half they had watched the patrons of Burton's Welsh saloon emerge one by one while John Williams still remained inside. Terry's whispered reassurance had confirmed that Williams was well known to be the last to leave on most days, but Sean still could not dismiss the uneasiness that had grown inside him as the long minutes had continued to pass.

    Tensing as the door of the saloon opened again and the sound of mumbled conversation echoed in the silence, Sean held his breath. Two men emerged, squinting into the sun, and his frustration mounted. Damn the man! Where was he?

    Sean was watching the two men's progress up the street when a sound snapped his attention back toward the saloon. He froze. John Williams, his homely face unmistakable, stood in the doorway. The fellow turned back to someone inside with a low comment and then stepped out onto the street.

    Beside Sean, Terry and McKenna tensed, and, as if on a prearranged signal, the three of them drew their pistols.

    Aware that Linden, running beside him, was laboring as much as he, David turned down the familiar street, his heart pounding. The image of Meg's white face remained in his mind as the footsteps of policemen running at their rear echoed in the semi-deserted street. But he hadn't had time to explain to her that he had realized almost immediately who Donovan and O'Connor were after. Nor had he had the time to convince her that he would try to protect all involved, but that the most important thing was that she remain safe at any cost.

    To his everlasting credit, Captain Linden had mobilized his men on a moment's notice, knowing exactly where Williams was most likely to be. The corner of Main and Oak came into view. Only a little farther and

    A gunshot rang out in the silence, and a ragged breath caught in David's throat. Charging forward, David saw out of the corner of his eye that Linden had drawn his gun, that the men behind had done the same. They turned the corner to the sound of another gunshot, and another, and David's step faltered as a man in the doorway of the saloon at the opposite end of the street slumped to the ground.

    Captain Linden called out in warning as three men stepped out of the shadows opposite the fallen man. Standing boldly a moment longer, two of the three aimed their guns at point blank range and fired at the inert figure again.

    Turning on a run, two men started for the wooded area beyond as Captain Linden shouted a command to halt. The command went ignored and gunshots rang in the deserted street, a heavy barrage that jerked the taller man upright for the space of a moment before he stumbled onward. Another shot knocked him to the ground as the man beside him turned to glance over his shoulder.

    Those unmistakable eyes so similar to Meg's…

    Gunshots rang out again and the second man's running step jerked to a halt as he pitched forward onto his face.

    "Cease your firing!"

    His command bringing the shooting to an abrupt halt, Linden raced toward the two fallen assassins as the third man disappeared from sight. Signaling a few of his men to follow, Linden kneeled, examining each man in turn.

    "Williams is dead, sir!"

    Linden nodded in silent response to the report shouted from across the street. He turned to look up at David, his expression grave. "As are these two."

    Blood pooled beneath the fallen men and David closed his eyes, snapping them wide again at the sound of a gasp behind him.

    He turned as Meg rushed past him to stand rigidly between the bodies of the two fallen men. He stepped toward her as she swayed, then sank silently to the ground.    A crisp autumn breeze ruffled Meg's hair as she walked the dusty, deserted road from town. She looked up at the partially denuded branches of the trees around her and paused to follow a swirl of brightly colored leaves to the ground. The breeze whipped harder, flaying her face with curling strands of hair, but she brushed them back, resuming her step. A glance toward the position of the sun in the afternoon sky told her it would soon be time to start back home.

    Home. There had been little comfort in the word in the two months since all feeling came to a shattering halt on a dirt street stained with blood.

    Gunshots echoed again in Meg's mind. It was a sound that haunted her both awake and sleeping. She would never forget it. Nor would she forget three bodies sprawled in the dust, their life's blood draining into the ground.

    Meg glanced up at the swiftly moving clouds over her head. She was strangely without tears the day Terry and Sean were lowered into the ground, but she had grieved. She mourned the lapse of love inside Sean that left him only bitterness. She lamented her failure. She sorrowed with a pain that would not abate for the profanity of his last act, for his violent death, and for the aching void within her that grew more agonized each day.

    Filled with regrets, she had mourned Terry, too. But she did not grieve for the "soldier" whose cold eyes had made him a stranger, or for the man who had guided her brother the last few steps to his violent death. She lamented the loss of the loving man she glimpsed so briefly, the gentle man inside Terry who did not have a chance to grow.

    Meg shuddered, her sudden chill unrelated to the nip in the air or the lengthening shadows that had begun to block the warmth of the sun. She had walked for several hours, as she had every day since she left Sheila at Sean's freshly covered grave. The image of Sheila's pale, strained face as she looked up from Sean's last resting place was burned as clearly into her memory as her words:

    "Aye, it's over, Meg, and it's not ended the way we hoped, but the way we feared." And then at Meg's attempt at consolation, "Don't grieve for me, Meg, for I've no regrets, you see. I told myself long ago that Sean's time with me would be short, and it was only briefly that I allowed myself to believe otherwise. But I'd not have had it any other way, for I loved him, Meg, and I can console myself that I gave him all I had to give. In his way, Sean returned the same in kind, and the memory of that will live with me all of my life."

    Fighting the return of another memory, Meg walked faster, but the image of David, waiting just beyond the small circle of mourners at graveside, would not fade. She had walked past him then, without a word, but she had come to realize in the time since that no amount of walking or mourning or regrets could alleviate the torment of turning her back on him forever.

    Meg shivered. She was tired, but she didn't want to return home yet.

    Yielding to impulse, Meg turned into a small grove of trees and continued walking. Suddenly realizing she had walked a circuitous route back toward town, she continued on, knowing full well where that particular road would lead.

    Drawn to the abandoned mill despite herself, Meg approached the stone structure, her heart beginning a slow pounding. She paused briefly in the doorway, then walked inside, the constriction in her throat expanding to the point of pain.

    Closing her eyes, Meg felt the aura that remained, the heady presence of Sean and the tenderness that had transpired there. Gratitude swelled inside her for the munificence of Sheila's love even while her dear friend knew that her loving would never be enough for Sean.

    Meg heaved a heavy, shuddering sigh. Love, sorrow, regrets, no matter how profound, would change nothing. It had all gone bad. And in the midst of it all, Meg knew that she was lost and could not find her way back.

    A sound, and Meg stiffened. She opened her eyes as a masculine shadow appeared in the doorway. It grew gradually larger and Meg held her breath, her eyes widening.

    "Meg."

    "No!" Pressing her hand against her mouth, Meg shook her  head as if to deny the violation of David's entrance into this place. "Don't come in here! Get out!"

    "Meg"

    "I said get out! Get out!"

    Suddenly charging, Meg threw herself against David, knocking him back through the doorway with the strength of her attack. Her fists flailing, she pounded and scratched, her frenzied assault growing more intensely frantic despite David's attempts to calm her.

    Suddenly grasping Meg's wrists, David twisted her arms behind her. His voice was filled with pain as he muttered hoarsely, "Stop this, Meg. Please."

    The strength drained from Meg's limbs at his low plea, and she went suddenly still. David's face was so close to hers. She could smell the scent of his skin, feel his breath against her lips. The dark pupils of his eyes were dilated, narrowing a ring of green in which golden sparks revealed the emotion he suppressed with his rasping whisper. "Let me talk to you, Meg. Let me explain."

    "Let me go."

    David's chin hardened into stubborn lines. "I won't let you walk away from me again. I've tried to be patient, Meg."

    "I said, let me go!"

    His gaze narrowing, David slowly released her.

    Unconsciously rubbing her sore wrists, Meg returned his stare with growing intensity. "I've made many mistakes, David, but I'll not make the same ones again. Sean told me I'd regret believing in you someday, and he was right." Her breathing grew more ragged. "When Sean left the house with a gun that last day, I was terrified. But it wasn't Sean I was afraid for. Fool that I was, I was afraid for
you
! I ran straight to you as soon as I could, and it was only after I saw you were safe that my thoughts returned to Sean."

    David reached for her once more, halting at Meg's low hiss. "Don't touch me! I trusted you! I believed you when you said you would help me. I put my brother's life in your hands, and you betrayed me. You threw my brother's life away!"

    "No, Meg, it wasn't that way! I had to try to stop him."

    "By going to the police? You knew what they would do!"

    "They did the only thing they could. Donovan and your brother were out to kill a man."

    "No!" Meg shook her head. "I don't want to hear any of this!"

    "You must!" Grasping her arms, David held her firmly despite     her struggle. "You mustn't blame yourself or me for what happened. Things had gone too far."

    "I could've found Sean and talked to him."

    "Just as you talked to him before he left? He didn't listen then, and he wouldn't have listened if you had followed him to that street and begged. Don't you see? I couldn't let you get in the middle of it all and risk your life. I had to keep you safe."

    "
Safeat
the expense of my brother's life?"

    "Meg, you can't change what happened by denying everything that led up to it. You knew where your brother was heading a long time ago. What happened wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine."

    "It was!"

    "You have to try to forget."

    "Forget?" A harsh laugh escaped Meg's lips with the slow, pained admission of the guilt that consumed her. "Do you really expect me to forget that I allowed you to make me an instrument in the death of my own brother?"

    "Meg…" His arms slipping around her, David pulled her close against him, but Meg remained rigid against the consolation of his embrace. She could feel his strong body trembling, and she fought her growing response to the torment in his voice as he whispered against her hair, "I made no conscious choice in what I did that day. I did what I had to do, just as you did what you had to do when you came to me to stop the deliberate taking of a life. Don't punish me… don't punish us both for behaving instinctively."