Hannah Howell (41 page)

“She died birthing him. She was sickly,” he added hastily, his eyes going to her stomach.

“Do not worry,
señor.
I know the dangers. I will beat them. I am sorry your wife did not."

“The rest of the Bancrofts?"

“They are well."

“Is something going on? Seems to be guests coming."

“I am to be married.” The grin that tugged at his mouth reminded her of Royal.

“A little slow to get to the altar, aren't you?"

“Just a little,” she murmured, smiling back.

“Which one are you marrying?"

“Royal."

“Yes, he'd dawdle."

A shock went through her. She suddenly knew who stood before her. The resemblance was in his lean face, only slightly marred by a scar that ran the length of the right side. She looked more closely at him.

“I think you dawdle, too. The war was over in ‘65."

“And Gettysburg even longer ago. Centuries,” he whispered. “How did you know?"

“The look is there."

“We Bancrofts have a look, do we?"

"Sí.
I also know you are not under there.” She pointed at his headstone.

“It was close. Very close."

“I think you'd better come to the house."

“I was hoping it'd only be family."

“There are only a few others. This marriage was decided quickly. It took a lot of thinking, there was a fight to win, and I had to heal from wounds. Come.” She stood up from where she had crouched by the baby, then lifted the basket. “I will carry the baby. I am thinking you will need your arms free.” When he still hesitated, she grasped him by the arm and tugged him along. “You cannot hide here."

“It's going to be one hell of a surprise."

"Sí,
and then they might be angry You left them to think you were dead."

“There's something about being blown off your horse that rattles your memory."

“For so long?"

“My wife didn't want me to remember. She knew, but she didn't tell me until she knew that she was dying."

“And you have not forgiven her?"

“Not really, but I've come to understand.” He sighed and glanced at the baby. “Besides, she gave me Camden. Who are you?"

“Antonie Neumann Ramirez."

“Hell, you don't look Mexican."

“I was not born Mexican. I was raised Mexican.” As they stepped up onto the veranda, he stopped again, and Antonie could sense his unease. “Only a little farther,” she said, urging him to walk with her.

“This might stop your wedding."

“No, only delay it a little. Ah, here comes Royal. He probably thinks I tried to run away again."

“Do that often, do you?"

“Just once.” Antonie smiled when Royal flung open the front door and scowled at her. “Here I am."

“Where've you been?” Royal demanded.

“For a walk."

“What's that?” Royal stared at the baby.

“A baby. Not mine. Mine is still getting ready."

“Funny, Toni."

“The baby is his."

“I was just about to ask about him.” Royal looked at the man standing by Antonie and slowly paled. “Jesus."

“Wrong resurrection,” Antonie murmured, causing Denton to laugh nervously and Royal to glance at her a little wildly. “Someone put the bits together, eh?"

“It's impossible,” Royal whispered even as he reached out to touch the brother he had thought dead for so long.

“Why? You found no trace. This is why.” Antonie kept her voice calm, for she could see how deeply shocked Royal was. “Is it so hard to believe?"

“It's really you, Denton?” Royal asked hoarsely.

When Denton nodded, Antonie found herself completely forgotten. She followed Royal when, after tightly hugging Denton for a long while, he dragged his brother into the house. Standing back a little, she watched the reunion, then separated Maria from the stunned group milling around Denton. Drinks would be needed soon, and the baby should be seen to. Antonie wanted it all to be done before the explanations started. She did not want to miss what promised to be a fascinating, if perhaps sad tale.

To her relief it was only just beginning to be told when she entered the parlor again, setting the glasses and drinks in easy reach. Even as she moved to sit by Royal, he reached out and tugged her down beside him. She could feel the tense excitement in him and held his hand. Her wedding was forgotten for the moment, but she did not really mind. It was only a delay and there could be no better reason than this.

“Damn it, Denton, we looked everywhere,” Cole said hoarsely. “Came back and looked again."

“Hell, I was nearly buried and thrown pretty far,” Denton explained. “Even the scavengers didn't find me, although for a long time I thought they had."

“So who found you?"

“This old farmer and his daughter, Elizabeth. They were looking for his son. Found the boy's body. It killed the old man. He followed his only son to the grave by less than a week."

“And this Elizabeth took care of you?” Patricia asked, her voice unsteady as she struggled to conquer her shock and disbelief.

“Yes, Pattie, and it was for a long time, a long slow healing.” He touched the scar on his face. “This is only one of many and I'll always limp."

“Why didn't you send us word?” Royal asked.

“Simple, Royal. I didn't know who the hell to send word to.” Denton shook his head. “When I was blown off my horse, every memory was blown clean out of my head. Oh, there were little bits here and there, but they never told me anything. I had my uniform and my wounds to tell me that I was a soldier who hadn't fared too well. That was it."

“You remembered nothing?” Justin leaned forward in his seat as if eager to touch Denton.

“Nothing worth mentioning, Justin,” Denton replied. “Little pieces that flickered in and out and were mostly an annoyance. I'd grab for it, try for the whole, and it'd slip away. It got so bad that I wouldn't even try."

“So when did you remember?” Royal asked.

“Not until Elizabeth told me what she had been hiding. See, I married her even before I was really healed.” Denton looked around and when he saw the basket, collected up his son. “Camden Bancroft."

Antonie saw the quiet pride in the man's face and could hardly wait to see Royal with their child. She knew that whatever was or was not between them would not affect Royal's feelings toward his child. When he suddenly glanced her way, she could see the anticipation in his eyes and knew that she was right.

“Where is Elizabeth now?” Patricia asked.

“Dead, Pattie."

“I'm sorry."

“I reckon I am too, in a way.” Smiling at Patricia's shocked face, Denton said gently, “I married her because she was all I had. It's hard to explain. I don't think a body can feel more alone than when he has no idea of who he is or was. There was just Elizabeth. She called me John."

“So tell us how you remembered,” Justin urged.

“It was a lot of things. Elizabeth was sickly when she had the baby.” Denton carefully placed his cooing son back in the basket. “She knew she was dying. That's when she told me what she'd done. She'd known from the start who I was, but said she was thirty-two, unwed, and, when her father and brother died, totally alone. So, when she realized I'd lost my memory, she did her best to make sure it stayed lost."

“That's terrible.” Patricia's voice was softened to nearly a whisper by her shock.

“Well, it is, Pattie love, but, as time goes on, I understand her better.” Denton sighed and shook his head. “Anyhow, she took every bit of identification I had, put it in a little box, and buried it. She told me my body'd been picked clean by the scavengers of all its valuables. She'd even cut the buttons off my uniform to substantiate her story.

“I don't know, I think it was everything together that brought back my memory. I'd just become a father, my wife was dying, finding out that she'd lied to me like that, and then seeing the pitiful collection of things that told me who I was. It came back to me piece by piece as I traveled here. I left after Elizabeth died."

As everyone seemed to talk at once, marveling over the tale, Antonie nudged Royal. “It is good Elizabeth died, I think."

“You mean Denton might have killed her?” Royal asked.

“Worse. He would have hated her."

“You don't think he does now?"

“Not really. She died giving him a son and the truth. It takes away the bite from the hate. I think he also sees that she deserves pity. Either she loved him too much, or she did not think much of herself.” Antonie shook her head. “She might even have been a little
loco,
eh? Ah, now he wants to hear what you have been doing."

“Antonie said something about fighting?” Denton asked, looking at his brothers. “When did Ma and Pa die?"

“Let's start at the beginning. Raoul Mendez was hired by the Collinses,” Royal began.

Antonie watched how their few guests listened as intently as Denton. She suspected it was the first time anyone outside of the whole sordid business had heard the complete tale. A little smile touched her mouth as she thought about how quickly the story would now spread, especially since Royal was revealing a few things that had not been told at Marilyn's and her father's trial.

“Damn, I should've been here to help,” Denton said, clenching his hands into fists as he struggled to compose himself.

“It would've been good to have you, Denton,” Royal agreed, “but we managed."

“I can see that. Only you, Royal, would get the help of one
bandido
against another."

“Juan was a
bandido.
Raoul was a pig,” Antonie said quietly. “Now he is a dead pig."

“And roasting in hell, eh?” Oro said, grinning slightly.

"Sí,
with Juan, Manuel, and Julio turning the spit."

“You're that little girl everyone always thought he'd stolen,” Denton said.

"Sí,"
Antonie replied, “but he did not steal me. I was alone, so he took me up."

“And little Pattie married.” Denton smiled at his sister. “Sorry I missed the wedding."

At the moment, Tomás entered, helped along by O'Neill. “Hey, I have hobbled down to see a wedding. Where is it?"

“Oh, m'god.” Royal could not believe he had forgotten, and looked at Antonie a little warily. “The wedding."

“The preacher has not run away,
querido,"
she assured him, “although I am thinking we best hurry, for he likes the punch too much. We would not want him to forget his part, eh?” She smiled as he stood up, took her hand, and helped her to her feet.

“Now, I can give you away,” Oro said as he stood up.

“Ah, if I was not so beat up, I would give you away, little one,” Tomás sighed dramatically.

“Well, if there's a dispute about who's to give her away, I'll do it,” O'Neill offered.

“I could become insulted,” Antonie drawled. “So many so eager to give me away.” She grinned when everyone laughed.

“Wait, wait,” Maria cried as she hurried forward. “There is something to do first.” Grabbing Antonie by the arm, Maria pulled her out of the room. “This will take only a moment."

“Maybe it's not a good idea to keep waiting,” Antonie said, only half teasing, as she let Maria pull her into Royal's study. “When did you sneak in here, Patricia?” she asked when they found her waiting.

“Just after Tomás came down. We were waiting for you to come back from your walk, but then you brought Denton in, and...” Patricia shrugged, then held up a dress. “For the bride."

Antonie was speechless as she stared at the dress Patricia held up. It was a lovely creation of creamy lace and silk. The dress she wore, the one she had bought after the drive, had seemed the loveliest she had ever seen. It paled in comparison to the one Patricia offered her. Antonie reached out to touch it.

“For me?” she asked in a small voice.

“A bride should have a special dress,” Patricia said.

“Where did it come from?"

“Maria and I made it."

“You did not make this in two days."

“Er, no. We couldn't. Come on, Maria, help me get her into this."

“Just when did you start making this?” Antonie managed to ask even as Patricia and Maria started to undress her.

“Oh, all right, if you must know."

"Sí,
Patricia, I must."

“When you got back from being held by Raoul and we knew you were safe."

“Ah, but you did not know that I would be marrying Royal."

“We-ell, he did mention it that night."

“Then why did he wait so long to mention it to
me?
You did not push him to ask?"

“Not an inch. Stop worrying so."

"Chica,"
Maria said gently, “men can tell the whole world that they will marry a certain girl, but they find it hard to tell the girl, eh? I do not understand, but it is how it is. The
patrón
has wanted to marry you. I think even before he knew of the baby, but such a thing gives a man the excuse,
sí?"

“Antonie,” Patricia said as she carefully put the other gown aside, “I can't guess at what Royal is feeling any better than you can, but I do know that he wants to get married. He's not good with pretty words, I reckon. Not like Oro is.” She grimaced. “Oro can say the moon is purple,
querido,
and I'd say, ‘oh yes, Oro’ by the time he finished pouring all his pretty words over me. Maybe if Royal was better with pretty words, you would not be so worried."

“I would probably worry that he did not mean them,” Antonie grimaced. “I did not expect it to come to this, and so I worry that it will not."

“Well, it will. As soon as we finish getting you all gussied up. We even have flowers for you."

“And so I will really look the bride."

“Exactly. You don't happen to know where everyone went yesterday, do you?” Patricia asked, worry lacing her voice.

“No, but I think they went to see the hanging."

“Oh. It's really over then."

"Sí.
Over."

“You don't sound too sure, Antonie."

“Sometimes I do not feel too sure, eh?"

“But Henry Collins is dead, Raoul Mendez is dead, and Marilyn is being sent to prison,” Patricia insisted.