Maverick Heart (22 page)

But the irrefutable evidence that this was not—could not possibly be—Chester Talbot’s son lay there on the bed in front of him. He felt dizzy.

He had a son. He and Verity had a son
.

Unless she had lain with some other man after her marriage to Chester. Not probable, knowing her—and Chester. But possible.

“How old is Rushland?” Miles asked.

“Twenty-one. He’ll be twenty-two next month.”

Oh, God. He had been born within a year of Verity’s marriage. Rand had to be his son!
He catalogued the young man’s features. The nose was the same as his own, and the chin. The black hair, of course. And Rand’s eyes were gray … like his own.

Verity, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me I had a son? Why did you keep him from me?

Why hadn’t he gone back to England? Why hadn’t his parents told him about Rand in one of their infrequent letters? They must have seen the boy. They must have guessed.

Chester must have known, too
.

That realization froze Miles where he stood.

He understood so much now. Why Chester had not come to Verity’s bed after Rand was born. Why she had sent her son away to school at so young an age. Why she had told him he would like Rand, because Rand was nothing like Chester. Of course not. Rand was not Chester’s son.

Miles examined the terrible wound on his son’s shoulder and the four distinct claw marks on his
belly. He had come impossibly close to losing a son he had never known he had.

“How long has he been unconscious?” he asked Freddy.

“Most of the day. For a long time his wound wouldn’t stop bleeding.” She swallowed hard. “He’s been feverish, too, but surely now that he’s in a warm bed and can have good food and hot tea, he’ll get well, won’t he?”

If the wound doesn’t get infected
, Miles thought.
If he hasn’t lost too much blood. If the fever doesn’t get worse
. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he reassured her.

“I’m so glad you got back when you did,” Freddy said. Words tumbled out of her mouth, falling over themselves in a rush to be said. “I was a little concerned when we arrived, because the house seemed abandoned. But Tom—Mr. Grimes said from the look of things you would be back soon. And here you are.

“Mr. Grimes tended Rushland’s wounds along the trail. He said it would be better to leave them open to the air now that’s he’s in bed than to bind them. Do you think he’s right?”

“Tom knows as much as any man I’ve met about doctoring,” Miles said. “I’ll get the salve for Verity’s burns.”

The instant he shut the bedroom door behind him, Miles leaned back against the log wall, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His son was here, in the next room. And for the moment, alive. Miles felt as though he had been kicked in the groin—
breathless, the pain so bad it threatened to double him over.

All the years lost that I can never get back. The chance to be a father to my son stolen from me. Damn you, Verity!

But he had a son! Rand was here in his house. In his bedroom.

He grinned, then forced the giddy look from his face. Randal Talbot wasn’t out of the woods yet. He had better not celebrate his good fortune until he was certain it wasn’t going to be ripped from his grasp.

Miles was less willing to examine his feelings toward Verity at this moment, because they were so violent. She must have known she was pregnant with his child when she married Chester. Rand’s existence made mincemeat of her claim that she had been blackmailed into marriage. He couldn’t imagine her letting herself get forced into marriage with a man who wasn’t the father of her child.

Why had she done it? Probably because she was pregnant and had to get married right away and really was horrified at the thought of facing him across the breakfast table for the rest of her life.

How gullible he had been to believe her lies! He felt betrayed all over again.

Miles shuddered as he imagined what Chester must have done to her when he discovered her deception. He worried about what harmful things Chester might have said … might have done … to his son—his enemy’s son—over the years.

Miles was not immune to the irony of the fact
that in ruining Chester Talbot, he had left his own son destitute.

He wondered if Verity had ever told Rand the truth. He wondered if his son had loved another father in his place. He wondered if Chester had taught Randal Talbot to hate Miles Broderick.

Maybe Rand won’t want anything to do with you when he finds out who you are
.

That was a possibility he had to consider. It terrified him to think his son might not even give him a chance to be his father.

Miles shoved himself away from the wall and headed for the sideboard. While he was rooting around for the tin of bear grease he planned to use on Verity, he remembered Tom. He owed the man a great debt of gratitude.

“Hey, Tom,” he called through the still-slack front door to the porch, where Tom was waiting to talk to him, to tell him what had happened. “Come on in here, and tell me how you ended up rescuing these two kids.”

Tom eased into the house and stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt. “I got a good look at the boy,” he said with a smirk. “Is he yours?”

Miles halted in place. “Is the resemblance that obvious?”

“It wasn’t at first. Then I put two and two together. I mean, how you knew the lady a long time ago, and how quick the two of you got hitched. The more I looked at the kid, the more I saw you. Is he your son?” Tom repeated.

“I don’t know. And I’d appreciate it if you’d
keep your guesses to yourself. I have to work this out in my own good time.”

Tom cocked his hip. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“You don’t look any the worse for wear. What happened to you? You just disappeared.”

“Those Sioux led me one helluva chase. The two I was after got away, but they led me right to your son and the girl. Sorry,” he said when Miles frowned. “The
kid
and the girl.”

Miles found the bear grease he had been hunting. “I have to tend to Mrs. Broderick’s burns right now, but I’d like to hear the rest of the story later.”

“Sure, boss.”

Miles paused with his hand on the bedroom door and turned to glance over his shoulder. “I owe you, Tom. I won’t forget it.”

Tom shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”

“Speaking of work, I’d appreciate it if you’d go with Sully and help the boys load up all that equipment we used to fight the fire.”

“Sure, boss. I’ll talk to you later.”

Freddy had apparently been busy while Miles was gone, carefully removing Verity’s half-boots and charred stockings and shifting her skirt upward to expose the burned areas on her legs. She started when Miles reappeared in the doorway. “You can’t come in here while Lady Talbot is undressed.”

“She’s Mrs. Broderick now,” Miles reminded her gently.

“Oh.” Freddy put a hand to her head. “So much has happened … I’ll leave her to your care.”
Freddy retreated to the other side of the bed, smoothed a stray lock of hair from Rand’s forehead, and settled on the edge of the ladderback chair in the corner with her hand over his.

Miles forced back the wave of nausea that rolled in his stomach when he saw the blisters on Verity’s legs. It reminded him too much of Sully. He sat beside her and gently began to smooth on the bear grease unguent.

“Can you tell me how Rushland got the claw marks on his belly?” Miles said, needing conversation to distract him from the sight before him.

“He was attacked by a bear. A
huge
one.” Freddy brushed at the lock of hair that had fallen back onto Rand’s forehead. “He was willing to sacrifice his life to save mine. He …” She swallowed hard. “He loves me, you see.”

Miles glanced at Freddy. She looked more guilty than happy about the situation. “How did you two escape this huge bear?”

“Rand sent me up a tree so I would be safe, while he led the bear away from me. He managed to squeeze himself under a rotting log, but I could see the bear was going to dig him out. So … so I climbed down from the tree—”

Miles stopped what he was doing to look at her incredulously. “You what?”

“I climbed down from the tree and—”

“What did you think you were going to accomplish besides getting yourself killed, too?” Miles asked.

“I didn’t think,” she said pertly, “I only knew I
had to do something. I couldn’t sit by and watch Rushland be killed for me when I don’t even—I had to do something.”

“What did you do?” Miles asked, intrigued.

“I yelled at the bear.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Lord save us from the stupidity of greenhorns. What did the bear do?”

Her jaw jutted pugnaciously. “He came after me.”

“I guess he would,” Miles said. A grin slipped free.

“It wasn’t funny,” Freddy said. “In fact, I was terrified. I ran as fast as I could, but the bear kept getting closer and closer. I heard Rushland shouting at me—”

“He had crawled out of his hole?”

She nodded vigorously. “I was afraid the bear had mauled him terribly, but those four claw marks are the worst that happened. Of course I didn’t know that at the time. Rand threw a rock at the bear, trying to distract him. But … the bear kept coming after me.”

She shuddered. Her eyes glazed, and she seemed to be reliving the incident. “I couldn’t catch my breath. I was so scared, and I had run so far. The bear was growling and making awful noises. I tripped and fell. I … I could smell him, he was so close.” She shook herself free of the memory.

“It’s strange what you think of at a time like that.” She shot him a mischievous look from beneath lowered lashes. “I imagined my parents having
to explain my demise. They would never live down the infamy.
The Duke and Duchess of Worth announce that their daughter, Lady Winnifred Worth, was eaten by a bear …
”

Miles chuckled, and she joined him.

Her laughter stopped, and she was reliving the incident again. “I remember screaming for Rand …”

Miles knew Freddy was temporarily unaware of him, because she was using the familiar name, rather than the formal one.

“I remember Rand calling my name …”

The story stopped, and Miles glanced up at her, wondering what had caused the interruption. She was quivering. Her lips were pinched.

“The bear … the bear … knocked me down.” Her eyes closed, she swallowed, and when she opened her eyes, she had returned to the present. “Then we heard the shots. It was Mr. Grimes, you see, chasing two Indians on horseback. The Indians never even slowed down, but Rand waved at Mr. Grimes, and he rescued us.

“He bandaged Rand’s shoulder where the Indians had shot him—it had started to bleed again—and helped us find our horses. Then he led us safely back here to your ranch.

“And that’s another thing,” Freddy said, her brow furrowing. “Mr. Grimes said this is the Muleshoe Ranch. Are there two of them? Muleshoe ranches, I mean. Because I understood Rushland’s mother owned the Muleshoe Ranch, but Mr. Grimes said you’ve been living here for years!”

“I promise there’s an explanation for everything. I think it might be better to wait and let Verity tell you all about it,” Miles said, using her incapacitation to postpone the inevitable. “Why don’t you get yourself something to eat and drink,” he suggested. “I’ll look after these two and call you if there’s any change.”

For a moment he thought she might take him up on the offer, but she shook her head. “No, Rushland may wake up and need me.”

Her mention of Rand caused his glance to shift to the other side of the bed. Miles shuddered to think what might have happened to the two young people if Tom hadn’t come along when he had. It might have been a long time before they found Rand and Freddy’s bodies, or rather, whatever the scavengers had left of them.

Verity had better not try to keep him from claiming his son. The fates had given him a second chance to be Rand’s father. He damn sure wasn’t going to waste it.

He had nearly finished spreading the unguent on Verity’s legs, but he must have pressed a little too hard in his agitation, because she groaned.

“Have you decided to join us again?” he said silkily as her eyes blinked against the light. He clenched his teeth on the question he was dying to ask.

Why didn’t you tell me about my son?

Verity felt like she was swimming upward from a deep pool of water toward the light. When she
blinked her eyes open the first thing she saw was Miles’s face.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She felt confused, uncertain where she was. Then it all came back to her. She grabbed Miles’s arm, her nails biting into his skin. “Rand?” she said in a choked voice. “Rand?”

“Is lying right beside you,” he replied in a cool voice.

She turned her head, saw her son, and shoved the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle a sob of joy. She tried turning onto her side toward him, but cried out when the blisters on her legs touched the cotton bedsheets.

“You need to be careful,” Miles warned. “The backs of your legs are burned worse than we thought.”

Verity wasn’t concerned about herself. Her only goal was to get herself turned around so she could see her son. “Please, help me, Miles.”

He carefully turned her over to face Rand and sat behind her to support her back as she reached out to trace Rand’s upper chest near the spot where the bullet had left so much damage.

Verity realized, suddenly, that Miles hadn’t mentioned a word about Rand having black hair. Surely he had noticed. Surely he suspected the truth. But with Freddy in the room, she didn’t dare bring up the subject.

She shot Miles a look over her shoulder, but his eyes gave nothing away. She turned her attention back to Rand.

“The bullet wound looks bad,” she said, her stomach curling as she felt Rand’s pain deep inside herself. “Are those
claw
marks?” she whispered, her hand sliding down to his belly.

“Rand and Freddy had a run-in with a bear—”

She gasped.

“But they came out of it just fine.”

Verity saw Freddy sitting beside the bed next to Rand and reached out to clasp her hand. “Oh, Freddy. You’re both safe and alive! I can hardly believe it. How did you escape from the Sioux?”