He settled for reciting the Lord’s Prayer, then clamped his hat back on his head and jerked at the brim to turn it just right. That was as good as he could do for the bastards. He turned and left the copse, surprised to see that Brianna had kept the fire going and was sitting near the flames.
Great.
Now he had to dig deep for an apology, a chore he would have preferred postponing until morning, when his brain wouldn’t be foggy with exhaustion and sorrow. Killing was ugly business.
When she heard his footsteps, she leaned forward to fill a tin cup with coffee. “I kept it hot for you. After doing such a despicable chore, you might welcome some coffee laced with sugar. It boiled too long and got a little strong, but it’s drinkable.”
David sank onto the grass cross-legged beside her. He
accepted the cup and took a sip, hoping the sear would clear his throat so he could speak. Only thing was, he needed some words to say, and he’d never been real handy with them. “Brianna—”
“Me first,” she interrupted. “It was despicable of me to accuse you of stealing from dead men. I’m sorry I said it, even sorrier that I thought it, however briefly, and I don’t blame you a bit for wanting to dump me off in Denver.”
David almost groaned. “After I had a minute to think about it, I could see why you thought what you did. I was going through their pockets. It must have looked bad. Just know that wasn’t my purpose. Even polecats have families. It’ll be good if I can notify their next of kin about how they met their end and where they’re planted.”
“And send them the valuables,” she finished for him. “I can see that now, David. I’m sorry I didn’t right away. Men like that—well, their relatives may be poor. A few dollars here, a gold watch there—that might be very welcome if their families are struggling to get by as I have in the past.”
“On that subject.” David set aside his coffee and rested his elbows on his upraised knees. He pressed his forehead against the heels of his hands, wishing he’d been smart enough to keep his tongue on a leash earlier. “I’m sorry, too, about the trash barrel thing. I took aim at the one thing I knew would cut you the deepest.”
She turned her face from him to stare off beyond the flames, her shoulders tense, as if braced for another blow. David detested himself for making her feel that way.
“Once and for all,” he said gruffly, “let me set the record straight on how I feel about you foraging in trash barrels to find food for our daughter. I
admire
you for it.”
She threw him a startled look, her eyes shimmering in the flickering light. “What?”
“I hold you in the highest regard. No matter how hard it got, you never gave up. You went without sleep to work at any job you could find, and when that wasn’t enough, you got creative. Daphne is a beautiful, healthy little girl, and that’s all on account of you. You’ve got more sand than an ocean beach, and I think you’re one hell of a lady.”
Looping her arms around her knees, she smiled slightly
and relaxed. She’d folded back the jacket sleeves because they were too long, and in the amber glow, her hands looked dainty and fragile. It was difficult for David to imagine her digging through garbage with those slender, delicate fingers. He was happy to note that the cut near her eye showed no sign of bruising yet. Maybe she wouldn’t have a shiner, after all.
“Only you could compliment a woman and manage to stick
hell
into it.”
Caught off guard, David laughed, and he was finally able to relax, too. “Just so we’re clear. I’m very glad my child’s mother has mettle. You’ve taken such good care of her, and you’ve raised her right in the bargain. She talks like a walking dictionary, her manners are perfect, and like her mama, she’s too pretty by half but doesn’t have an excessively favorable opinion of herself.”
Brianna stared fixedly into the fire. “Those moments weren’t proud ones for me, David. The garbage ones, I mean. My child was hungry, and I didn’t have a choice. I worried that what I found might make her sick. I took to watching people’s back stoops to see when they took out their trash, but even then, I couldn’t be sure it was fresh.”
David tried to imagine what that must have been like, and he hated himself for ever having put her in such a fix. “I’m so glad now that I came.” He swallowed hard. “When that fellow from Denver brought me that bag of letters, I thought about pretending I’d never seen them. Not for long, but I did consider it. I had my life all planned out. I didn’t want to believe I had a child in some Podunk place called Glory Ridge. Daphne’s letters smote my conscience, though, making me wonder if she might really be mine. She couldn’t spell a lick, but she got her message across, that she and her mama were in dire straits.”
“Oh, David.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “You shouldn’t have come. It saddens me to think you upended your whole life for a child that isn’t yours.”
“Are we back to that? She’s
mine
. Here I thought we were starting to get along.”
“We are.” Her lashes fluttered up, thick, curved at the
tips, and so long they almost touched her brows. “Just remember, when the time comes, I won’t hold it against you if you decide to wash your hands of us.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Shamrock, leave it alone.”
“Just remember.” She fixed an imploring gaze on him. “You’re a fine man, and you’ve got a big heart. Perhaps too big for your own good, with plenty of room to love a little girl simply because you feel obligated to.”
David threw up his hands, so aggravated that he was about to get up when she reached out to clutch his wrist. “Don’t go. I’ve said my piece. I’ll keep my mouth shut now. I just need to know that you’ll remember what I just said.”
“All right, fine. It’s stamped on my brain. Are you happy now?” He sighed and settled back. “Sometimes, Shamrock, you’re like a chigger that’s worked its way under my skin. I have an unholy urge to give you a swat.”
She giggled. David wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard her actually laugh. It was a musical sound, soft and sweet. He turned to stare at her. “I’ll be damned, Shamrock. I think you have a sense of humor buried in there somewhere.”
“By now, my sense of humor has become a bit twisted, but I do still have one. Sometimes I find humor in the strangest things. Last night, I was frantic to spy a rock I could use as a mounting block and somehow convince you to camp near it so I could escape while you slept. Then you came across those
damned
cattails and completely foiled my plan. I thought, ‘Well, I’m up the creek without a rock,’ and I almost burst out laughing.”
David shot her another long look. “Did I just hear you say
damn
?”
“Yes. Your foul mouth is rubbing off on me. Be warned. It will rub off on my daughter, too.”
“
Our
daughter.”
“Fine,
our
daughter. Just mind your tongue or she’ll soon be talking like you do, which would be unbecoming for a young lady. That isn’t to say it’s becoming in you.”
“Jesus H. Christ. You are the most nettlesome woman I’ve ever met.”
“Ach! You just took the Lord’s name in vain. What must I say to drive home to you that you can’t talk that way around her?”
Sparring with her took his mind off the men he’d just buried. “The H in there makes it okay to say. Do you think the Lord’s middle name was Herbert or something?”
She fixed him with an incredulous look. “Is
that
how you justify it?”
“Absolutely. It’s not the Lord’s name. It’s a byword phrase. I don’t say
Jesus
by itself. Well, I do, but I’ve been trying not to the last couple of days.”
“Jesus H. Christ is
not
on your list of allowed words.”
“True, but you prick my temper and make me forget what words we decided on. I’m hoping I remembered to tack on
son of a bitch
. It’s one of my favorites. When I’m mad, I can work it all different ways and put a lot of emphasis into it.”
“That isn’t on your list, either.”
“Well, damn. That was a serious oversight. It’s not really such a bad phrase.
Son
is an ordinary word, and
bitch
is a female dog. I happen to like dogs a lot. If I were to say my bitch was due to whelp, you wouldn’t get your drawers all in a twist.”
She giggled again. David decided he truly did
love
that sound.
“You, sir, are
impossible
. Where is the soap? I’m going to make you take a bite.”
David remembered a few times when his mother had done exactly that, and the thought sobered him. He enjoyed giving Shamrock a hard time about his cussing, but underneath was a serious problem. Using coarse language had become habitual to him, almost as instinctive as breathing. “I really am trying, Shamrock. You haven’t heard me
say
‘son of a bitch,’ have you?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “You yelled it when you found me behind the rock tonight.”
David remembered only being scared. “I did?”
“You did.”
“Well, hell, I guess I’m hopeless.”
“That is only an excuse. If you plan to be around
our
daughter, you
will
clean up your mouth.”
“I will,” he said. “But I have to tell you it isn’t easy.”
“Raising a child is never easy. If you’re so eager to be a father, then work on doing it right.”
David studied her from the corner of his eye, and he liked what he saw. She no longer assumed a brave posture, pretending she wasn’t afraid of him. There was a touch of color in her cheeks, and she didn’t hold herself stiffly with her chin lifted high.
“Are you over being upset with me about the garbage comment?” he asked, no longer wanting to tease.
“Are you over the corpse-robbing accusation?”
David thought about it. “Not all the way.”
“Well, there you have it, then. It stung, and I’m still smarting just a little.”
“You know those men I was robbing tonight?” He reached down to pluck a blade of grass to chew on. “I’m guessing they never did an honest day’s work their lives. You
did.
And I also think you often went without food so Daphne would have more.”
“So?”
“So? Shamrock, you’re extraordinary.”
She sighed and tipped her head back to stare at the stars. David noticed that her hair was in a furious tangle, she had a grass stain on her cheek, and she looked so exhausted a puff of wind could knock her over.
“I’ll put it behind me if you will.”
“We’ve got a deal.”
She sighed again, and he knew he should send her off to bed, but since he planned to sleep in, he decided he could keep her up for a few more minutes. After she conked out, she wouldn’t wake up until he started stirring around in camp.
“Shamrock, I’ve got a bad feeling about you.”
She blinked and stifled a yawn. “How so?”
“Well, I get the distinct impression that you’ve been badly treated by some other man. Am I right?”
“I have a bad feeling about you as well,” she said, instead of answering. “You killed three men, hid their bodies, and then you made the evening special for Daphne. How could you act as if nothing happened?”
It was a legitimate question, and David considered his answer. He didn’t feel as if nothing had happened, and he didn’t want her thinking of him that way. His heart was heavy, and he yearned to stumble down to the creek for a good wash. He had blood on his hands, even though no one else could see it. Sadly, it was the kind of taint he’d never be able to scrub away. Ace had tried to explain that to him once and done a poor job of it. David didn’t figure he was any more gifted with words—less so, in fact. Ace could quote Shakespeare, and all David knew were childhood riddles.
“Please don’t think I take lives with no regret. That isn’t the case at all. I wish those men had ridden on and left us alone. But they didn’t, and it came down to them or us. I knew what they’d do to you and Daphne if I went down. It’s as simple as that, and I saw no reason to burden a little girl with the awfulness of it, so I tried to make supper festive.
“I take no pleasure in killing. As I buried those polecats, I felt regret, not so much for what I had to do, but because they went so bad at some point in their lives that they came in on us, forcing me to shoot them.” David didn’t know if that had made any sense, but he figured she could sort her way through it. “I’ll go scrub up here in a bit, and when I’m clean and wearing fresh clothes, I’ll try to forget about it.”
“So in the morning, you’ll just wake up, face a new day, and not think about it?”
Oh, how David wished he were made that way. “Nope. In the morning, I’ll go out for a rabbit, and I’ll wonder about the salvation of my soul because I’ll feel more regret about killing a small creature than I did tonight while killing three men. That’ll make me worry about what kind of person I am.”
Brianna fixed shimmering, pained eyes on him. “Rabbits are such harmless little things. I can understand why it makes you sad to kill them. At the same time, my stomach welcomes the meat.”
“Mine, too. It’s a sadness of life. They just want to nibble on grass and clover and go back to their warrens. They are the least of us, victimized by humans, coyotes, and hawks,
even though they never ask for it. Those men came after us like we were rabbits, Shamrock. But we aren’t. Here’s how I figure my way through it and move on. Life throws piles of shit at me sometimes, and when it does, I either slog on through or drown in it. My choice, and when it comes down to dying or fighting back, there really isn’t a choice. So I’ll scrub up and go to bed tonight, hoping to sleep without nightmares. If I do wake up in a cold sweat, I’ll remind myself that I’m no rabbit. I’ll think about you and Daphne, and what might have happened to both of you, and I’ll be damned glad my every roll and pull on the triggers was timed just right. In the morning, I’ll sip a cup of coffee and savor the taste, glad that I’m alive to enjoy it. And I’ll pray that I was in the right and they were in the wrong, and that God forgives me for what I did.”
Her eyes went bright with tears that never spilled over. “It’s going to haunt you forever, isn’t it? This night and what you did to save us.”