Texas Twilight (36 page)

Charity grabbed his arm. “Just so you know,
Shellston told the Comanchero to make sure I never made it back to
town.”

John tamped back his temper, feeling the urge
to reload his Colt 45 and take murdering banker down himself. “I
know what letter they’re after.”

Both Brandon and Charity’s heads snapped
around to look at him.

“At least I think I do. Jeremiah Post had a
letter for the sheriff in his breast pocket the day he and his
brother were killed. I put it with his belongings, which I hope are
still at the Wells Fargo office waiting to be shipped to his next
of kin. I’ll go get it while you go arrest Shellston.”

“Can I go with you, Brandon?” Charity asked
with solemn urgency.

“
No
,” both men
said in unison.

J
eremiah Post’s
letter was still at the Wells Fargo office in the duffle with the
rest of the murdered brothers’ belongings. With a little
persuasion—specifically, informing the clerk the sheriff was
dead—they let John take the letter in question. He assured them
that as soon as it had been shown to the circuit judge, it would go
back to its rightful place. For now, it was needed for important
business, John said, and he’d lock it in his safe until that
time.

Brandon apprehended Shellston with no
problems and the banker was now locked in the cell next to his son.
He’d been on his way out of town with a travel bag filled with a
bag filled with hundred dollar bills, confirming Charity’s story.
Brandon had also told John that he’d not found out too much about
the gem, but did learn that Boone was known in the East for his
murderous ways. He was an outlaw and wanted for more than one
crime. John had yet to speak with Lily about it, but intended to as
soon as everything settled down.

When John returned to the doctor’s office,
Lily was there with the rest of the women around Chaim. Dustin was
by her side.

“He all locked up?” Dustin asked.

John came in and looked Chaim over, then put
a thermometer into his mouth. “Yeah. He won’t have long to wait for
the judge. Pete Miller said he’s due next week. I wouldn’t want to
be in Shellston’s shoes.” John was addressing Dustin but his gaze
kept drifting to Lily. “This will interest you, Lily. The letter
was from Mr. Bartlett.”

“Owner of the shop on Spring Street?”

He nodded. “One and the same. The shop that
you and Harriett were on your way to Rio Wells to lease.”

She smiled at his reply. “What did it say?
How ironic that everything comes full circle to the person who
brought us here in the first place. John, that seems like so long
ago, does it not? In reality, it has only been two months. So much
has happened since then.”

Dustin stepped closer to Lily’s side, as if
feeling the sudden connection between John and her. “From what we
can gather,” John said, “Mr. Bartlett had taken a loan from
Shellston. Then the banker raised the rate making it hard for
Bartlett to fulfill the contract. Mr. Bartlett spelled out how
Shellston had been acquiring property unlawfully by using his
position at the bank. It sounded like he wasn’t going to go along
nicely, like others here in Rio Wells had, and so Shellston had him
beaten to death and put in the river. Thing was, he didn’t die.
Jeremiah and Cyrus Post were his attorneys, on their way here with
proof of a document signed between the two of them, and testimony
from others he had done the same thing to. Without the letter, Mr.
Bartlett wouldn’t have a case.”

“What will happen to Mr. Shellston and
Harland?” Becky asked.

John shrugged. “Only time will tell. But as
the facts come out, and in light of the fact he ordered Charity’s
demise, I think he’ll feel the full extent of his crimes. The boy,
I don’t know. Seems he was after Charity for her standing up to him
in school. I’ll bet he’s never been told no.”

Bixby hadn’t said more than a handful of
words since John had returned. The old man sat in a chair by the
window, gazing out. John went over and looked at the lump on the
back of his head, then palpated the area gently. “How you feeling,
ol’ timer?” His tone was soft although he was trying to elicit a
response. “Come on,” John said. “I thought you were tougher than
being put down by one conk on the noggin.”

Bixby shrugged. “Just feel like a damn fool.
That man Boone could have killed Lily and Harriett. What really
makes me mad is that he was smarter than I was.” Bixby sucked in a
deep breath of air and let it out slowly, rocking his body. “No
fool like an old fool.”

“You were just doing your job,” John said,
although he’d been utterly terrified when he’d heard about what
happened with the gunfighter. Lily hadn’t been hurt, and now she
was here, in the room, beautiful as ever. “You couldn’t know he was
playing possum. I’d have done the same thing,” John finished.

Bixby shrugged again and John patted him on
the shoulder. “Okay, everyone, I think Chaim is due some rest from
all this attention.” John said, gesturing to his aunt, female
cousins, Dustin, Emmeline, and Lily. “Unless you all think I’m
wrong.” Chaim rolled his head and gave him a thankful look. “Come
on, out with you.”

“You’re right,” Aunt Winnie agreed. “It’s
time we all went home and got some rest. I’m about ready to fall
over.” She looked at John. “That is, if you think it’s a good
idea.”

“I do. Chaim’s made a remarkable recovery so
far. His fever is about gone and his coloring is almost back to
normal. It’s amazing considering how much blood he lost
yesterday.”

“It’s a miracle,” Emmeline said, nodding at
John. “As was your saving his life like you did.” She was the only
one still close to Chaim’s side. She bent down and kissed him on
his cheek, then blushed profusely when she realized everyone had
seen her. Chaim held her hand in his own.

“I guess you’re wondering about us,” Chaim
said softly. “Well, Emmy and me, well…we’re a couple.” Everyone
smiled as if this was news to anyone. “And, we intend to get
married as soon as I’m able. John knows and has given us his
blessing.”

“Chaim’s right,” John said. “Some things are
just meant to be.” He looked up and found Lily looking at him.
Boldly, he winked at her, then continued. “Congratulations, Chaim.
You’re getting a good woman.”

Now it was Lily’s turn to blush. Didn’t John
know everyone had seen that wink? Her cheeks burning, she turned,
heading for the door. She’d left Tante Harriett alone for as long
as she felt comfortable and needed to get back to her store.

“Not so fast,” John whispered close to her
side. “I’ll walk you back.”

“I need to—”

“I know. Check on Harriett. I’ll go with
you.”

“T
hought I’d
find you here.”

Brandon looked up at the sound of Charity’s
voice. She saw the mask descend over his expression, his eyes go
dark. She walked into the livery with poise, hoping she looked more
confident than she felt. Welcoming scents of hay and leather
bolstered her spirit. But mostly the sight of the man who’d been
her every thought since their kiss. They’d shared chaste little
pecks before, and a touch here and there, and longing gazes. But
mostly they’d been the best of friends. Steadfast. During the kiss
she felt consumed, desired and loved. And, she wanted more.

“Charity.” He tossed the brush he was holding
into a box of grooming tools and met her at his horse’s stall
door.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“I’m busy right now,” he said, turning and
closing the gate. He latched it slowly, methodically, rattled it,
checked its strength, as if he was fearful his steed would escape,
taking so much time Charity almost laughed.

“I’m on my way over to the jail,” he said. “I
don’t put too much stock in Deputy Miller.”

Her heart sank. He hadn’t forgiven her. He
was still brooding over her running off. She wished she could make
things right, do it over, but unfortunately that wasn’t possible.
She took one step closer, until they were almost face to face.

“I thought you’d forgiven me. Today upstairs
in John’s room it felt like you had. I guess I was wrong.”

Brandon shrugged his large shoulders and
looked out the livery doors, avoiding her gaze. “It’s just—” His
mouth was a straight line.

“What? Tell me.”

“No, you weren’t wrong—I have forgiven you.
I’m thankful we got you back alive.”

She had to do something before he talked his
way right back into his anger. He looked so unhappy. Miserable.
Just like she felt. Warmth pooled inside at her close proximity to
him. She reached out and ran her hand down his chest, amazed at the
strength she felt beneath his shirt. His expressive eyes had a hint
of vulnerability, his lips enticing. “What are you, then?”

“
Resigned. I’ve known you for way too long to think you’ll
ever change.
For me.
”

His last two words gave her courage. “What do
you mean?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you,
Charity. A damn…long…time. I’ve given you every opportunity to let
me know how you felt, but you didn’t. Not really. You’ve strung me
along. I’m done. Tired of it. I’m a new man.”

She sucked in a breath, not expecting the
words he’d just flung at her. “But, what about the kiss?”

“Didn’t mean anything. Just a reaction to a
tense situation.”

Charity squared her shoulders and planted her
hands on her hips. “I don’t believe you!”

He tipped her chin up with his finger and
came so close she would swear his lips were on hers. “Believe it.
I’m just a plaything to you. Not good enough for a McCutcheon. It’s
true I don’t come from some blue-blood lineage, but I’m honest and
I’ve loved you more than anyone ever could.”

Charity was overcome with emotion at his
proclamation. She leaned forward, needing desperately to feel his
lips on hers, but he pulled away, just out of reach. Hurt, she
shook her head. “That’s not true. I just thought you wanted to be
part of our family. Any part. I imagined you’d do anything to make
that happen. Even so far as to marry me. I never believed you
wanted me just for me.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed for a brief second,
then he laughed long and loud. Finally finished, he wiped the
moisture from his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered, not quite knowing
what to make of him. His expression, a mixture of bedeviled
annoyance and little-boy mischievousness was one she’d never seen
before. Before she had time to say anything else he scooped her up
and flung her over his shoulder, heading for the ladder leading up
to the hayloft. Charity screeched, then beat her fists against his
back. She kicked her feet wildly, but there was no way out of his
strong grip.

Before she could let out a gasp, he laid her
back in the hay, took her face between his palms, and crushed her
lips with his own. She squirmed and pushed at his chest, twisting
her head. “Stop it,” she tried to say, but she was pinned tight
beneath his chest.

This kiss was nothing like the tender kiss
earlier, that kiss had been filled with passion and wonder, promise
and meaning. This kiss was angry, filled with questions. Her heart
lurched at what it might mean.

All at
once, he stopped. He pressed his forehead to hers but didn’t open
his eyes. He rolled onto his back and slung his arm over his face.
Long moments passed. She had no idea what he was thinking. She
looked over at his profile in the darkened rafters of the barn.
Strong jaw and chiseled face, so handsome, so alone. She thought
about what it must be like not to have any family to call your own.
Her heart shuddered painfully inside her chest.
She
was his family. She had been all those years ago,
and she still was now.

“Brandon,” she whispered, snuggling deeper
into his side and walking her fingers across his chest. She leaned
forward and kissed his earlobe lightly, unsure, taking liberties
she’d never dared before. Picking up his arm, she placed it over
her side, and tugged softly.

He turned
a little and gazed into her eyes. Then he rolled, taking her into
his arms. He kissed her again, this time so gently it stole her
breath, her heart, everything that she was. Oh, how she
loved
him. Every confusing part of
him. He rolled farther until he was above her once again, breaking
the kiss and moving his lips to her ear, then proceed down her
neck, branding her skin with the fire of desire.

Charity’s
breathing was heavy, her thoughts disjointed.
This
was Brandon.
This
was her love. Never in her wildest dreams had she known it
would feel like
this
to be his
woman.

“Charity.” Her name came out gruff and
endearing.

“Shhhh.” She struggled to open her eyes,
feeling as if she’d been drugged. He was intoxicating. His touch,
magic. His face, everything that heaven must be made of. “Let’s not
talk. I want to keep kissing.”

“
No. We
need to talk. All these years you thought I just wanted to be part
of your family? So much so that the feelings we have—” He stopped.
His expression now brought her excruciating pain as he struggled to
say the words. “That I
thought
we had. That
I
had…
Really?”

She
wished she could just tell him a little lie to make it sound
better, save his feelings, but she couldn’t.
Never
again to Brandon. “Sometimes I did. But not all
the time. I’m sorry. I’d get so confused I’d get angry with you, or
put distance between us, or some such silly thing. Everyone in my
family is so significant. All my brothers are smart and successful
and…”