The reluctant warrior, p.23
The Reluctant Warrior, page 23
McCall nodded. “I wondered if you were Cameron Scott.”
“Yep, I’m him.”
“I am looking for a two-year-old boy.” He glanced at Ronnie. “What’s his name?”
Dead silence.
Finally, McCall answered his own question. “It’s Cameron Scott.”
More quiet followed.
“Yes, his name is Cameron Scott,” Gwen said at last. She knelt down and began bandaging Wolf. “Named for his uncle. We call him Ronnie. And he’s fine and needs no rescuing, either. What gave you such a notion?”
McCall’s eyes went back to Raddo.
Cam figured Gwen’s bandage on Wolf would last about ten minutes . . . if she didn’t let him go for ten minutes. But maybe ten minutes was enough. The pressure would stop the bleeding.
“I was told his parents are dead. I was sent to bring him home.”
“Home?” Cam shook his head like a dog shedding water.
“Yes, home to—”
“The Chiltons.” Penny cut him off, leveled the gun again, and cocked it.
“Did you get the diamonds and the silver coins?”
Florence stopped as they rounded the last corner and glared at Edmond as she raised the heavy satchel she carried.
“Of course I got it.” She’d have been more likely to forget Edmond than the diamonds. She had a few other valuable things he didn’t know about.
Creditors had come banging on their door just after dawn. Florence had expected it sooner or later, and she’d been prepared to run.
They’d had to leave much behind, but they’d each grabbed a satchel. Edmond’s was packed with clothes and other necessities.
Florence’s was filled with gold, silver, diamonds, and jewelry. She’d carefully rat-holed enough for them to be away for a while.
“And you have the gold and the family jewels?” Edmond panted as he leaned against the wall of the old stable. They had horses waiting here.
Ignoring the question, Florence executed her plan. “We can’t ride long and hard like we need to. Neither of us is fit for that. We should have kept up our skills.”
“We only have to get to the next town that has a train station.”
She wanted to growl at the half-wit. “Our creditors will have the law after us. The main road runs north and south through town, so he’ll expect us to go that way. We’re heading west.”
“There aren’t any trains to the west.”
She felt more in charge now that he’d started whining. “No, but there are stagecoaches. We’ll ride west until we find one. After a time we’ll reach a river, get to the sea that way, and take a ship around to San Francisco.”
She had pictured it in her head many times. They’d take on false names, travel separately rather than as a couple. The clothes packed in their satchels were of poor quality and would make a fine disguise.
“San Francisco is the nearest port to our grandson. We’ll find him and bring him back home. We’ll gain access to his trust fund, then return to life as normal.”
“But the neighbors will have seen the creditors. We’ll be ruined.”
They very possibly would be. Florence tried to remain calm. “We say we got word of Delia’s death and our grandson needed us. We left in a terrible hurry and forgot about making arrangements to pay bills. Then we’ll pay everyone and settle back down. If that doesn’t soothe the feathers of the old biddies who like to gossip, then maybe we’ll just move. See what New York or Boston society has to offer.” Florence wondered if they might never come home again. Leave their bills behind and start fresh in California—or somewhere else where nobody knew them.
Edmond nodded. “Let’s saddle up and get out of here. I enjoyed sailing the ocean before. Of course, it was on a luxury ship heading for Paris. I wonder how this ride will be.”
Florence wanted to slap him. What difference did it make how the ride would be? The ride would take them away from this town, which was all that mattered. Yes, she knew she carried enough gold and valuables to pay off all their debts, but then the last of their money would be gone. How would they live?
It flitted through her mind that if they’d been kind to Delia and accepting of that dreadful man she’d married, Delia would have stayed back here, stayed close to them. No doubt lived in a fine home. Delia had always been softhearted. Florence had learned she could get the girl to do almost anything for a bit of affection or a kind word.
But fawning like that was distasteful to Florence, and she’d been angry at Delia all her life because Florence’s mother so clearly preferred her grandchild to her own daughter.
If Florence had handled the headstrong girl right, Delia would have supported them.
But to go begging to her own daughter? And to act as if Abe Scott was anything but a disgrace? It was more than Florence could bear.
Florence had hoped to hang on until that Pinkerton fellow returned with their grandson, but time had run out.
After giving it careful thought, she’d put aside enough money for such a day as this. They could travel in comfort—or in as much comfort as the ships sailing around the tip of South America could offer.
She suspected they were in for a stormy ride.
They didn’t have much choice.
CHAPTER
27
Gwen had Wolf bandaged.
Cam and John had Raddo draped over a saddle.
Penny had the children fed.
They were all going to town.
Gwen knew Wolf didn’t much care for town. She ran her hand over Wolf’s coarse grayish-brown fur and asked, “Where did he come from?”
Cam tied Raddo’s hands and feet to the stirrups to keep the body from falling to the ground. “Do you think he ran away from home?”
Gwen chuckled. Penny laughed. Cam’s work was a bit too grim to join in, but Gwen thought his shoulders lifted a bit, as if the laughter of others made Cam’s burdens a tad lighter.
“Ran away from home?” John asked. “A dog?” He looked at them like they were all crazy.
Gwen could hardly blame the man. Too bad he’d come to kidnap her children.
He’d gone back and fetched his horse, then told them he’d been on his way to Trace’s house when he saw Raddo heading this way. John had hoped to talk to Raddo and get directions from him.
“I realized after only a few minutes that he was sneaking along on your trail, and it looked as though he was up to no good.”
John McCall finished tightening his cinch and straightened to look at them. “I heard the shooting and came as fast as I could.”
Gwen let go of Wolf. He immediately swung his head to his flank and started chewing on the tight cloth binding.
Maddie Sue ran to Wolf and hugged him. Ronnie was a step behind and tripped, fell, and tackled the poor dog and Maddie Sue . . . who screamed.
Wolf took it well, though he did look over his shoulder at Gwen. He had huge pitch-black eyes. They gave her what seemed to be a long-suffering look.
The chaos made Wolf too busy to chew any more on the bandage, so Gwen let them all play.
“I know just how you feel, Wolf.” She ran a hand across the dog’s head. He licked her hand.
Hoofbeats pounded the dirt.
Cam, Penny, Gwen, and John all came around. All four of them were armed. Guns drawn, aimed, and cocked.
“I thought you handed over your weapons,” Penny snapped at John.
A second later, three of them exhaled.
Gwen yelled, “Deb!” She lowered her gun and waved.
McCall said, “If you aren’t going to shoot these folks, I’m sure not.” He tucked his gun back up his sleeve.
Penny gestured at the pile of weapons she’d taken from him. “Get the rest of your stuff. I reckon if you wanted to shoot us, you had plenty of chances.”
“Obliged, Miss Scott.” McCall touched the brim of his hat as if to tip it.
“It’s my sister and her husband.” Gwen stepped out to meet them, though she hated moving away from Cam. She needed just a minute with him. Just one. Or two. Five maybe. She had a few things she needed to tell him.
“And both hired men,” Cam said in a regular voice. Then he raised it and yelled, “We got Raddo!”
And then they all had a long, hectic story to tell.
“What’s this?” McCall’s voice turned them all around. He lifted the sleeve Wolf had torn off, which now hung in tatters around Raddo’s arm.
“What are you looking at?” Cam went over to the body, still draped over the saddle.
“There’s a tattoo on his arm.”
“A tattoo?” Gwen headed there, along with everyone else.
“Appears to be a line of words.” John leaned closer. “I think it says . . . ‘Luth,’ and then it becomes faded. Must be many years old. But it looks like it says, ‘If I die . . .’”
Trace pushed John McCall aside. “Let me see that.”
Cam nodded. “‘If I die’ . . . that sounds mighty important. Let’s write down what it says.”
“Did you search him?” Utah lifted Raddo’s arm to study the tattoo. He spoke with such authority and so matter-of-factly that Gwen wondered if he’d spent time as a lawman somewhere along the way.
Utah, Trace, and McCall studied the tattoo a long while. Finally, Trace said, “It’s early enough, I’m going to haul Raddo to town. I’ll go because I’ve met Sheriff Moore. I turned Raddo’s two saddle partners over to him last fall. McCall, since one of those bullets in him is yours, come with me and Cam to take Raddo in. You can help explain what happened.”
“I’ll go instead of Cam,” Penny said. “I witnessed it from the beginning. McCall here only got in at the end.”
“Fine with me,” Trace replied. “Three’s plenty—we don’t all need to go.”
The group heading for town moved out. Deb was busy talking with the children.
Wolf’s bandage was long gone.
Utah started chopping trees. Cam grabbed his ax, but before he could leave, Gwen stopped him.
“Cam, can we talk for a minute?”
Turning, he dropped the ax and reached for her. Her hand was warm, solid, alive. She’d stood before Raddo’s deadly gun and lived. He was glad not to leave her right now.
“I think it’s time to show you our home site. Deb, can you mind the children?” Cam didn’t notice if she said yes. He was focused on Gwen alone.
He wove his fingers through hers. She liked that closeness. He liked it himself.
The dense woods swallowed them up. They had to pick their way along, but Cam didn’t mind lifting her over a fallen tree. It gave him a chance to hold her close.
They found the little clearing. The trees arched overhead like a cathedral ceiling. Lush grass danced and swayed in the spring wind. A trickling stream sang and stumbled along a rocky corner of the clearing.
A perfect circle in the woods without any trees and brush, as if it’d been opened up and cleared by the mighty hand of God.
They stood there in silence for a while, holding hands, enjoying the moment and the view.
Finally, Cam said, “I wanted to talk to you for a minute, too.”
Gwen turned from looking around the pretty glade. “What about?”
He reached to take both her hands . . . and remembered. “Gwen, honey. My wife . . .” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, breathed her in.
It was a long while before he could bear to lean away even that smallest inch to speak. “I was searching for Raddo on the far side of the valley. I saw him when he ran across. When I realized he was going after you . . .” His voice trailed off, and he shuddered.
Gwen’s arms came around his neck, comforting him when it was she who’d been in such danger, she who’d stood as a shield between his children and certain death.
She nodded. “I thought I’d never see you again, Cam. I thought he’d kill me and the children. And I knew losing them would tear your heart out.”
Before she said more, he jumped in. He wanted to go first. Say it before she did. “I love you, Gwen.”
There was the tiniest gasp as her arms tightened around him, the grip of a little warrior.
He forged ahead. “Before I met you, I didn’t even know a man could feel what I feel in my heart for you. I want to—” His words were stopped by her mouth.
“I love you too, Cam. I love you. The joy that is ringing through me is like music straight from God. I’m so blessed to be your wife.”
Nodding, he decided he hadn’t finished saying what he wanted to tell her. She’d interrupted him with that kiss and those heavenly words. “When I thought I might lose you, Gwen, I knew—finally, almost too late—how important you are to me, how deep my feelings run for you. And I’d never told you. I’ve been so selfish and stubborn. So busy giving orders, I—”
Gwen swatted him gently on the back of the head.
He stopped, looked down at her, and smiled.
She smiled back just as brightly.
“Do you know,” he whispered, “that I am now imagining you slapping me like that when I hear myself acting like a tyrant?”
A soft chuckle escaped her. “Then my work is probably done.”
Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her and swung her around in a circle, in that God-made chapel in the woods.
“Your work is just beginning, wife. Because I want to be a better man every day. A kinder man.”
She kissed him softly. “Cam, you were born to lead. That isn’t a sin. Yes, you need a gentler voice. But I married a warrior who’s fought for his country and for his family, and I never want you to change that most basic part of yourself.”
“You’re a warrior too, Mrs. Scott.”
She grinned. “A reluctant one, I’d say. But I will fight against evil for you. I hate knowing I k-killed a man.” Her lips trembled, but she firmed them and went on. “But I believe God blesses people—or at least understands and forgives them—when they fight to protect their family and their home from a man in league with the devil.”
They held each other close and let time pass, feeling the tension ease after today’s madness.
“I figured something out today, while I hid in those rocks with the children. I figured out what it means to ‘be not afraid.’”
Cam’s eyes went wide. “You did? Because I decided it wasn’t a verse that made much sense. I was never so afraid in all my life than today.”
She kissed him again. “It’s not about the world we live in—it’s about our souls. Be not afraid, because whatever happens in this life, if we put our trust in God, He is with us and our souls are safe. Believing in God is the great fortress, the great refuge. We fight here on this earth, but God will protect us whether we live or die.”
Cam shook his head. “That sounds wrong . . . God protecting us while we die? That doesn’t seem like protection to me.”
“Think about it, Cam. Whatever happens, God promises to be with us. So, Be not afraid. He goes before us in this life and the next. I’d say it sounds exactly right.”
Cam said, “And I’d say you’re the one with true courage. The one with the warrior’s heart. I see what you’re saying now—once the trouble is over—but I didn’t when I was in the middle of it. I’ll probably forget again.”
“If you do, I’m here to remind you.”
He kissed her until the joy she felt rose up and filled their little round chapel and she had the sense that, though their vows were legal and binding before, right now, from this moment, she was fully married.
Her dream had come true. A marriage to a man she truly loved.
He stepped back, took her hand, and turned her to look around the clearing. “Come and see where I want to build.”
Cam’s vision of their cabin reached out to a vision for their life together. As he spoke of his dreams, Gwen shared her own.
They disagreed on most everything, and then they’d laugh and find a middle ground. Once in a while they’d stop for another kiss.
“Will you be happy here, Gwen? I just realized I chose this spot without you. We can search longer if you want. Penny’s picked her site, so we can build her place first while I . . . uh, while we scout around.”
“You’ve found a beautiful spot for our home. If we searched and searched, we might find something just as nice, but we could never find anything better.”
“And in the end, it doesn’t matter where we live.” Cam pulled her close.
“It doesn’t?”
“No, because my real home is wherever you are. My real home is in your arms.”
That earned him a kiss that lasted so long he could’ve gotten a couple of trees cut down in the time it took.
When at last they spoke again, Gwen pressed a hand flat on his chest. “And my home is right here in your heart.”
Two reluctant warriors, glad to finally set aside the danger that had stalked them and to have found faith, home, family, and love.
About the Author
Mary Connealy writes romantic comedies about cowboys. She’s the author of the TROUBLE IN TEXAS, WILD AT HEART, and CIMARRON LEGACY series, as well as several other acclaimed series. Mary has been nominated for a Christy Award, was a finalist for a RITA Award, and is a two-time winner of the Carol Award. She lives on a ranch in eastern Nebraska with her very own romantic cowboy hero. They have four grown daughters—Joslyn, married to Matt; Wendy; Shelly, married to Aaron; and Katy, married to Max—and four precious grandchildren. Learn more about Mary and her books at:
maryconnealy.com
facebook.com/maryconnealy
seekerville.blogspot.com
petticoatsandpistols.com
Books by Mary Connealy
From Bethany House Publishers
THE KINCAID BRIDES
Out of Control
In Too Deep
Over the Edge
TROUBLE IN TEXAS
Swept Away
Fired Up
Stuck Together
WILD AT HEART
Tried and True
