Jane Bonander (17 page)

Walker smirked. “You probably won’t believe me.”

Nate turned away, studying the hills, damning himself for ever getting involved with Sonny Walker. “Try me.”

“Stock in a Texas cattle firm. Worth a fortune.”

Nate turned, unable to hide his surprise.

“See?” Walker gave him a sly smile. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

Nate bit the inside of his cheek, trying to digest the tidbit of news. He knew that Texas was opening up, but the timing was wrong. “If Harlan’s father actually had such stock, he got it long before the rest of the country got wind of it.”

“That he did. Harlan’s daddy was no fool, even though Harlan was.” Sonny Walker moved away, toward the kitchen window. “I think Harlan’s brain was joggled when he was born. Ma told me once that he’d been pushing to get out of her belly for three days before anyone came to help her.”

Damn
. Too logical. Far too logical, even for Sonny Walker. “So, you’re telling me that when Susannah left Missouri, she took the shares with her?”

On an acerbic laugh, Walker answered, “Yeah. She took the whole damned strongbox.”

Nate dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Had he really been duped? He still couldn’t believe it. He’d seen the fear, the wariness, the sadness in her eyes . . . Damn. He’d
seen
it himself. But Sonny had told him she was a conniving little bitch. He hadn’t seen that. Hell, maybe she’d been so good, he wasn’t able to tell.

He slammed his fist against the wall, making the windows shudder. God, but he’d drowned in her eyes . . .

“And, that’s not all she took,” Walker said, interrupting Nate’s thoughts.

“Christ, man. Don’t tell me there’s more.”

“Just thought you ought to know the rest.” He took a turn around the cabin, touching the fireplace utensils, the sofa, the kitchen table and chairs, obviously purposely prolonging Nate’s anguish.

It worked. “Damnit, the rest of what?”

He stopped and stared at Nate with a gaze that was disquieting, empty. “She took my son.”

Nate felt a cold wash of disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘your son’?”

“Corey’s mine, Mr. Wolfe.” He gave him a halfhearted shrug. “Do you really think Harlan could have produced such a handsome child?”

Nate spun away, his fists clenched, his gut knotted with fury. Envy. Jealousy. He turned toward Walker, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “I don’t believe you.”

Walker’s gaze was sympathetic. “She really sucked you in, didn’t she?”

Nate shook his head, his ears ringing, his heart pounding. “I don’t believe you,” he repeated.

Walker sighed. “Mr. Wolfe, why would I say something like that if I didn’t have proof?”

Nate could barely hear over the thundering of his heart. “What kind of proof?”

“When Harlan was thirteen, he got the mumps really bad. His balls swelled up like goose eggs. At the time, the doc told Ma he’d seen that happen before, and when it does, especially if the boy is in his teens, he’ll shoot blanks No friggin’ chance of spreading his seed.”

Nate swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “That’s not always true.”

Walker sighed again, as if working on his patience. “No, I suppose not. But believe me, Mr. Wolfe, Susannah got me into bed just once.
Once
,” he emphasized, shaking a finger at Nate. “And nine months later, she had a bouncing baby boy.”

“It could have been Harlan’s,” Nate argued weakly.

“What the hell difference does it make? She got me into bed, damnit, isn’t that proof enough that she’s a slut and a bitch? Hell. Do you know what her ma was? Do you?”

Nate shook his head. He was almost afraid to hear. “No.”

“A friggin’
whore.
‘The Whore of Baldwin County.’ Harlan and I both crawled between that woman’s thighs. And the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, Mr. Wolfe.”

Nate’s stomach churned and he felt a headache coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing at the pain. He’d forgotten his bruises from the fights with Moose McKay in the wake of Sonny’s revelations.

“So now that you know what she’s really like, you can’t possibly want to protect her anymore. Where in the hell is she, Mr. Wolfe?”

Nate remembered where he’d told her to go if she was ever in trouble. God, had he been a sap, or was Walker still feeding him a line? Too much of what he’d said could be verified. The stock, Susannah’s mother, Susannah’s life as an orphaned street urchin . . . Damn. A kid didn’t survive on the streets without learning to be artful, crafty . . . sly. And someone with Susannah’s beauty could get anything she wanted. Make a man believe in her every word. There were two names for women like that.
Actress. Whore
. In his mind, they’d suddenly become the same.

Still, he remembered things about Susannah that made him distrust Walker’s rantings. And damnit anyway, he didn’t want to believe him.

His gut knotted again. He couldn’t let Sonny Walker find Susannah. He wanted to find her first, and settle this once and for all.

“I don’t know where she is. If I knew, I’d tell you, Walker.” He was lying, but his anger—at Walker, at Susannah, at himself—covered the lie. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and threw them on the table. “Here. The advance you paid me.”

Walker stared at the bills, then looked up at Nate. “You’re still in my employ, Mr. Wolfe.”

Nate raked his fingers through his hair. “Not anymore.”

Walker gave him a sly smile. “Don’t you want to get even with her?”

Just the way he said the words led Nate to believe not everything he’d told him was the truth. “I don’t want anything more to do with her,” he lied again. “And the next time I see you, I’ll rip out your guts and strangle you with them.”

Walker stepped away, giving Nate a false look of hurt. “Why, Mr. Wolfe. I’m crushed.”

“Go to hell.” Nate grabbed his hat and strode to the door. He was going home. To Broken Jaw. He hoped she was there. He wanted some answers, but he was so angry, he wasn’t sure he could ask the questions.

F
rom the edge of the aster- and windflower-studded meadow, Susannah studied Nathan’s ranch. The smell of lilacs wafted toward her, reminding her of her mother’s favorite perfume. She thought it odd that she would remember her mother at a time like this. Snapping cicadas rasped all around them. A woodpecker rattled a tree in the distance and a raven swooped down upon the flower-blanketed grassland, soaring into the sky with lunch gripped in its beak.

The ranch was nestled in a copse of Douglas firs, many of which were, Susannah guessed, hundreds of feet tall. On the way out from Broken Jaw they had ridden through groves of oak trees where a few men were stripping the bark, laying it carefully in the backs of wagons.

A nervous fluttering, like the butterflies that skimmed the sea of flowers before her, settled in Susannah’s stomach as her thoughts returned to the ranch. From her vantage point, on a sloping hill at the edge of the meadow, she could see the house and all the outbuildings. Fresh lumber and shingles were stacked in the yard, as though someone was ready to do some repairs. The barn was in need of repair. Her gaze wandered slowly to the house, and the fluttering in her stomach continued.

The message she’d received from the breed about Nathan’s family still clanged in her ears. She hardly dared breathe, much less go the last stretch and knock on the ranch house door.

“Well, Honeybelle? We gonna sit here all day, or are we gonna go in?”

Her gaze dropped to Louisa’s lap, where Corey lay sleeping. Oh, Lord, now that she was here, she’d lost her nerve. “I don’t know. I . . . I just can’t—”

“You gonna tell me who this place belongs to now, Honeybelle? I’ve been askin’ you the whole trip.”

Susannah took a shaky breath. “Yes, I suppose you deserve to know. It . . . it belongs to a man I met in Angel’s Valley. He . . . he came to my rescue more than once. He’s the one who built the new porch. And he told me if I was ever in trouble, I could come here.”

Louisa gently handed the sleeping Corey to Kito, who folded him in his huge arms. “Well, then, why are we sittin’ here?”

Susannah slumped in the seat. “Because . . . oh, blast it!”

Louisa let out a huge sigh and took Susannah’s hands in hers. “Did you fall in love with this man?”

Susannah nodded, forcing away the threat of tears.

“Then, what’s the problem? The man’d be crazy not to love you in return.”

She focused on the ranch house, but her thoughts were elsewhere. “Remember the day we left?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Louisa nod. “That man who came by, the one you said you didn’t recognize, left a message for . . . for Nathan.”

She twisted toward Louisa. “You see, Nathan was off fighting in the war when his wife and his son were reportedly killed.” She swallowed, licked her lips and continued. “When he came home,” she said, nodding toward the ranch, “he discovered that his wife had already been buried, but that his son’s body had never been found.”

“An’, what did this man who came by tell you? That his wife and chile
weren’t
dead?”

Susannah nodded, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “He said . . . he said that Nathan’s family hadn’t been completely wiped out. How can I go up to the house, knowing that? For all I know, his wife could answer the door.”

Louisa mumbled a mild curse. “How do you know the man tol’ you the truth?”

“How do I know he didn’t? Why would a perfect stranger lie to me?”

“Ladies,” Kito broke in, “let me go up there and find out. Y’all stay here, by the wagon. Me and the dog’ll go to the door.”

“Oh, Kito, I don’t think—”

“Jes’ never you mind, Miz Susannah,” he interrupted. He handed Corey to Louisa. Corey rubbed his eyes and woke, but sat quietly in Louisa’s arms. He’d been such a good little traveler. “I’ll figure somethin’ out. If it looks bad, I’ll say I’m tryin’ to find somebody. If it don’t, I’ll say I’m lookin’ for work. Either one ain’t no lie.”

During the ten days they’d traveled together, Susannah had learned it was useless to argue with Kito. He’d taken charge like any decent man would, taking unpleasant decisions out of Susannah’s hands. They’d been lucky to make thirty miles a day in the buckboard, for often the hills obstructed the rutted roads, and more often than not, the ruts themselves caused them to lose time. He’d been patient with all of them, including the horse, who’d balked at the inclines and wanted to race down the descents. California’s size had stunned them all, for it had seemed they rode on forever.

Although she knew she could have made the trip alone if she’d had to, she appreciated Kito’s help and her admiration for him had grown each day.

Kito stepped down and called Max, who jumped from the wagon, loping beside him as he limped toward the ranch.

Susannah’s insides were a quivering mass as she watched Kito step to the ranch house door. When it opened, she almost closed her eyes, unwilling to see a woman standing there . . . a woman who would be Nathan’s wife. But a little, grizzled man stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. She was almost relieved that it wasn’t Nathan. She watched the exchange, straining to hear the conversation.

Suddenly both Kito and the man were walking toward the wagon. Her heart in her throat, Susannah nervously wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt.

As they approached, she studied the bowlegged little man. He was a midget beside Kito. She watched him come closer, wondering what she would say, wondering if she would even find her voice.

He stepped close to the wagon and squinted up at her. “You know Nate?”

Nodding quickly, she answered, “Yes. I . . . I know him.”

“Know where he is?” the grizzled little man asked.

“No. No, I’d . . . I’d hoped he was here.”

The man whistled through a gap in his teeth and studied her, swung his gaze toward Louisa, then at Corey. “Young’un yours?”

“Of . . . of course.” Her glance went from Kito to Louisa.
Who else would he belong to, you dolt?
She was getting more nervous by the minute, but she was relieved she could hold her tongue. It was at times like this when it usually started to wag.

“Well,” he began, sucking in air through the hole where his two front teeth used to be, “I got me a sit-cheation here.”

“A . . . a situation?”

He nodded. “I got a sick boy in the house. Sick in the head,” he said, putting a finger to his own.

She grew tense with fear and excitement. “A boy? Nathan’s boy?”

“Yep. You know ’bout Nathan’s boy?”

With an answering nod, she said, “He . . . his body was never found. They assumed he’d been carried off by—”

“Yep,” he interrupted. “That’s the story. But Jackson weren’t carried off by no coyotes.”

Her heart galloped in her chest. “No?”

“Nope. He ain’t talkin’ much, but it appears to me like he’s been livin’ with the Yuroks.”

“Yuroks?” She felt light-headed. Nathan’s son was alive!

“Injuns. Live mostly on the coast.” He swung his wiry arm toward the west.

“How can you tell?”
Oh, Nathan, Nathan, where are you?

“When he’s sleepin’ he mutters a few words now and then. Sounds like Yurok to me.”

“What about . . . about Nathan’s wife?” She held her breath.

He took out a pinch of snuff and stuffed it against his cheek. “She’s buried over yonder. What’d you hear about that?”

Flustered by his response, she stuttered, “I . . . not much. I mean, a man came to my cabin before I left. He said Nathan’s family hadn’t been completely wiped out. I guess . . . I guess he meant the boy.” She felt selfish relief.

The old fellow stroked his feedbag whiskers. “Who was he?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know him.”

“He a breed?”

Her heart lifted in surprise. “Yes. He was a breed. Why?”

He scratched his chin through the thick, gray fuzz. “Was a scout for the infantry. Name’s McCloud.”

Nodding, she answered softly, “Yes. That’s the name he gave me.”

He took off his battered hat, scratched a spot at his temple, then shoved the hat onto his balding head again. “He knows somethin’ ’bout all this. I knew it.”

“All . . . all what?”

“I don’t think Nate ever gave up hope that mebbe both of ’em might still be alive. After all, he weren’t even here when Miss Judith was buried. Pretty danged hard to let a person go who you ain’t even sure is dead. Woulda been better if he’d buried her hisself.”

Susannah remembered how often she’d caught Nathan staring into space. Yes, undoubtedly he’d been thinking about Judith, hoping against hope that she was still alive. It hurt, but she couldn’t blame him. “We’d like to help with the boy, if we could.”

He sucked on his remaining teeth as he scrutinized her. “Ya don’t look like his ma, but yer white.” He spat a wad of tobacco juice out sideways. “Might help.”

She glanced at Louisa and Kito. “May . . . may we all come to the house?”

He nodded expansively. “’Course. ’Course.” He pointed to Kito. “I kin use this fellow’s strength to help me start repairs. And if he wants to stick around, I got me a heap of tanbark oaks that need strippin’.”

“We saw men doing that as we rode through the oaks,” she responded. “What is it used for?”

“Sell it to tanners. They use it to treat leather. Like I said, I could use the big buck’s help.”

The slur made Susannah bristle. “Sir?” When he turned, Susannah asked, “What’s your name?”

“Nub Watkins, ma’am.”

“Well, Mr. Watkins, I’m Susannah, the man’s name is Kito. Her name,” she said, indicating Louisa, “is Louisa. Please remember that.”

Watkins shrugged, unaware of his crime and unbothered by her assault. “Sure. Sure. Don’t make me no nevermind.”

Susannah tiptoed into the bedroom, Max at her side. The boy, Jackson, lay on the floor, although the bed was made and the bedding turned down. It was inviting, but it appeared that the boy would have none of it. Max whined at her side.

“Max, heel.” The dog shivered beside her, anxious to explore the room. She found Jackson staring at her. “Jackson?” Her voice quivered a little. He continued to study her and Max through eyes that were so much like Nathan’s she nearly wept.

“My name is Susannah. I’m a friend of your father’s. This,” she added, “is Max. He loves children. I thought maybe you might want to rub his ears. He likes that, too.” She waited for a response; there was none. His gaze roamed the ceiling.

Susannah took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. Scanning the room, she found a rocking chair in the corner. She crossed to it and sat. Max followed her. Perhaps Jackson just needed time to adjust. She wondered what memories he had of his mother and father. She wondered, too, her heart aching, if he really knew what happened to his mother. He’d been gone for five years. Did he remember English at all?

“Jackson, I’m going to tell you how I met your father.” She ignored his quiet resistance. “He came to me when I needed help. First, he saved me from the hands of the town drunk. Then the drunk came out to my cabin and locked Max, here, in a shed so he could peep in my windows. Your father hauled the drunk into town and made friends with my dog. He . . . he built a new porch for my cabin, and chopped wood.”

She paused, waiting for a response. When there was none, she went on. “He talked about you often. He loved you very much, Jackson. Very much.”

Max nuzzled her hand, and she rubbed his ears. “At first I was angry with Max for taking such a shine to your father, because he was supposed to protect me. Max never liked anyone other than me and my little boy until your father came. I knew then that there was something special about him, for Max was very selective about who he let into my yard, and even more particular about who touched him.”

She took in the room, finding the memories kept by a parent who had lost something more valuable than his own life. Handmade toys, a beautiful wooden top, a toy soldier . . . a carved wolf. “Your father made you many beautiful toys, I can tell. He made my little boy an elephant.” She laughed, a soft sound filling the corners of the quiet room. “Corey loves elephants. He even tells me that he hears them early in the morning. Of course, he’s teasing me. We know that elephants don’t wander the mountains of California.”

She glanced at Max, who was crawling slowly toward Jackson on his belly, his tail thumping against the floor. She also saw Jackson’s hand move to his side, palm out, giving Max the chance to smell him. She felt a lightness near her heart and she quelled a smile.

When Max felt he’d been accepted, he sniffed Jackson’s face, licking him lightly on the cheek. Jackson grinned, and again Susannah’s heart squeezed with emotion, for it was Nathan’s smile all over again.

Susannah stood. “Do you want Max to stay with you?” She wasn’t sure Jackson understood, but when she moved toward the door, the boy hugged Max around the neck, keeping him by his side.

“I’ll come for Max later, Jackson.”

He appeared too engrossed in Max’s affections to bother with her.

Susannah stepped into the great room. Louisa had already taken over the kitchen and had an enormous fire burning in the fireplace that occupied the center of the room. She was at the counter, mixing together what Susannah assumed to be cookie dough. In no time, the room would smell delicious.

“How is the boy, Honeybelle?”

Susannah poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “I’m not at all sure he even understands English anymore.” A small smile creased her mouth. “He understands love, though. He and Max are already fast friends.”

“That was right smart of you.”

“Smart? What do you mean?”

“To bring the dog in. Sounds like a perfect plan to bring the boy into the circle of his family again.”

Susannah felt a bit self-satisfied. “I hadn’t thought it out. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.” She glanced around. “Where’s Corey?”

Louisa turned from the counter. “Why, he was jes’ here.”

Feeling a sense of alarm, Susannah rose and went toward the door that went outside. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the door to Jackson’s room was ajar. She’d shut it when she left.