Harris Channing (30 page)

"Thank God you came," she
said, her breathing labored, her voice cracking with shock and sorrow. "He
killed them."

"I know," David mumbled,
taking the pistol and shoving the barrel under Reg's chin.

"H-He was in on killing Sarah
too…and he only just killed Henry."

David cocked the pistol. "You're
a right menace, aren't you?" he asked coolly, intending to scatter the
man's brains all over the mountainside.

Reg's face blanched white and his
pale eyes grew wide with terror. "Please," he groveled, the sound
sickening. "I was desperate and jealous. I loved her and she betrayed my
love."

"Wrong," David hissed.
"She betrayed me." His finger lay heavy on the trigger but instead of
ending it right then and there, he stood, his aim never wavering from his
intended target. "Now, get your sorry ass up."

With a prowess that David didn't
expect, Reg lunged forward, his head colliding with David's legs, knocking him
back. Crocker sprang to his feet his fists raised in menace.

"Mistake," David shouted
as he discharged the weapon. The bullet ripped open Reg's shoulder and sent him
stumbling toward the edge of the precipice. Blood gushed from the wound yet he
seemed unfazed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small derringer.

David set his finger on the
trigger. With a snarl, Alfred heaved forward, his powerful paws jettisoning
into the man’s midsection.

“Shit,” David said, lowering the
gun.

Reg cried out, stumbling backward,
his arms flailing. "Help me!"

Too late. The man tumbled down the
side of the mountain.

A gasp of surprise escaped David's
lips. Bobbie stood frozen in place, her gaze pinned to the mountain edge. With
a yelp, Alfred ambled toward him, once again pressing his forehead into his
thigh.

Bobbie rushed forward and fell to
her knees beside David. "Thank God you came when you did." She coated
his face with soft, gentle kisses and he laughed.

"Don't thank me. Thank
Alfred."

Aiding him to his feet, the pair
inched toward the path's edge and gazed down the cliff side. Reg rested on a
narrow ridge below, his unseeing eyes staring forward, his body twisted in the
most unnatural of positions.

Epilogue

Autumn,
1873

White
Springs, Tennessee

His father's house seemed more like
a prison than a plantation. All the trappings of a man who lived well off the
land surrounded him, and yet he felt trapped…

Damnation, how was it circumstance
and tradition once again held him in a firm grip?

"Why the devil do I have to
sit here when all I want to do is be with my wife?" David squeezed the arm
of the leather wingback and glowered at his father. "She's having my baby
and I'm left to wonder what's going on."

James Henderson stood from behind
his mahogany desk and offered his son an understanding nod, his wrinkled jowls
lifting into a grin. "Do you really want to see her suffering?" He
lifted a glass of bourbon to his lips and took a long swallow. "Besides,
the baby is going to come whether or not you're gawking."

David pushed up from his chair, and
stalked toward the marble hearth, his footfalls quieted by the imported carpet.
"Had I known I was going to be shoved aside after taking her from our home
in town, I would have stayed put. But Mother insisted the baby be born here and
Roberta acquiesced."

"Your mother and May are quite
capable of--"

"We should have never left
Colorado," he declared all the while know how very foolish he sounded.

"And what would you have done?
Delivered the child yourself?" His father sank down upon the settee and
stretched his feet out in front of him, his display completely void of
etiquette. David shook his head. His mother would have had a fit had she
witnessed the man's lack of decorum, or how much bourbon he had ingested.

Glancing at the half empty
decanter, David sighed and was again glad to be free of the drink. Although God
knew he could use one at this particular moment.

"Damn it," he mumbled.
He'd not touch a drop. Never again, would he allow his weakness to destroy his
strengths. He watched his father empty the glass, wondering if perhaps, he too,
had a problem.

"What's the matter now,
son?"

David shoved his fingers through his hair. "If May or Mother don't
make an appearance soon, I'll be heading to our room."

His anxiety flared and small
streams of perspiration trickled from his hairline as again he began to wear a
path. He'd been locked away for near two hours. Two hours without seeing
Bobbie? Damnation that was probably the longest they'd been apart since leaving
the cabin.

"Your mother labored with you
for the better part of a day. Just calm down."

Agitation had him biting his
tongue. His father couldn't possibly understand his connection to Bobbie. Their
love was more than just simple affection. They practically breathed for each
other.

"I can't calm down, not until
I know she's all right. Women die in childbirth all the time…" He curled
his hands into fists. Damnation, he couldn’t believe he had actually blurted
out his worst nightmare.

"Yes, son," James said
leaning forward and setting his elbows on his knees. "But Bobbie is strong
and of sound stock. I see no reason to worry about losing her." He shook
his head and rising, set a comforting hand upon David's shoulder. "I
approve of her. She is what you need, what you've always needed."

David relaxed and gazed upon the
old man, his support and kind words reassuring.

"I thank God she brought you
home to us."

At the gentle rap on the parlor
door, David's nerves damned near screamed. Without thought, he rushed to the
door and pulled it open. May stood before him, her soft brown eyes smiling.

"She wants you, bad," May
said. "Never saw a woman push the way your Bobbie did."

His heart thrummed with pride.
"She's all right?"

"That she is." May turned
and just as he did as a child, he followed her. Dear God, but she seemed slow
as they marched down the long hallway and toward the stairs. Oh, how he itched
to take the lead. "And she has got a surprise for you."

"The baby is well?" He
paused by the staircase, his hand clenching tight to the walnut railing. But he
knew the answer even before he asked. For if there had been something wrong, he
would have been able to read it all over May's face. She wore her emotions like
some women wore rouge.

"Yes, sir. Everyone is fine.
Everyone is happy. Tired but very, very happy!" Her singsong voice soothed
him but a little, and mounting the steps, he rushed past his mammy and to his
wife. His entire body trembled with anxious excitement and breathlessly, he
barged into the room.

With only the dim light from the
curtained window to guide him, he should have slowed his pace, but he couldn't.
He was far too damned nervous for that.

Taking in a deep breath, he sped
across the Persian carpet to toward the four-poster bed. For despite May's
words of assurance, his worry would not be fully appeased. Not until he
witnessed that Bobbie was all right with his own two eyes.

"David Henderson!" With
her back to him, his mother cast an angry glance over her shoulder, her
expression one of disgust. Would the woman never stop treating him like a
child?

"Yes, Grandmother
Amelia," he teased, knowing that despite her prudish mannerism
, his mother loathed the idea that she was actually old
enough to be someone's grandmother.

"You
can't come in here like a wild cur," she scolded. "Slow down. Bobbie
is quite exhausted."

"I'm
all right," Bobbie called from the bed, her voice soaked with fatigued.

She
lifted her hand and ignoring his mother, he fell to his knees at the bedside.
"You're all right. Truly?"

Her face
glistened with perspiration, and her eyes drooped. "Yes. I'm fine and
completely in love with not only my husband, but my children."

He
stroked her hair and leaning in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Where’s
the baby? Do I have a son or a daughter?"

Squeezing
his hand the smallest of giggles popped from her chapped lips. "Do you
have a preference?"

It was
good to hear her laugh and his heart swelled with affection. "We discussed
that yesterday, remember?"

"I
do. But I'm just making certain."

"As
long as you and the baby are well, I'm completely and utterly satisfied. Gender
makes no difference."

"Well,
that is good." Bobbie moaned as she slowly turned her face toward Amelia. "Mother
Henderson, will you present David with his first born child?"

Amelia
turned, her arms filled with a small bundle. Dark hair peeked from beneath the
white linen blanket and joy flowed from deep within his gut as he rose to his
feet. His child. Finally, he would meet the product of his and Bobbie’s love.

"I'd
like to call her Charlotte, after my mother."

"Charlotte,
yes I like that. So, I've a daughter," he said, his words coming in an
excited rush. "May I hold her? Look into her eyes?"

"You
may," Amelia replied coming around the bed and setting the child in his
eager arms.

She was
so tiny, she barely weighed a thing. At the sight of her, his breath caught in
his throat. The delicate face, the healthy plump cheeks, the dark locks of
hair. She was absolutely the most beautiful baby in the world. With his pride
surging, an overpowering feeling took hold. This was his daughter, his precious
baby girl. He would be her father and guardian. He would never see her harmed
or heartbroken. "Oh, Bobbie." He looked at his wife through tears.
"She takes my breath away."

"Mine,
too. Look at her curls, they are directly from you."

"I
think you're right."
 
He chuckled.
"But her lovely mouth, that solely comes from you."

"Hmm,
I'll have to see that for myself." She lifted her hands. "Now, may I
hold her while your mother introduces you to your son?"

He leaned
over and set Charlotte in Bobbie's waiting arms, his mind not quite registering
her statement. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I
said, I am in love with my children and I would like you to meet our son."

His head
grew light as he lowered himself on the edge of the bed. "Two? You gave
birth to two babies?"

"That
she did," Amelia inserted, scuttling to the other side of the bed. Once
there, she bent over the small wooden cradle and upon rising, she carried with
her another bundle. This one whimpered before emitting the smallest of cries.
"This is your son," she announced, her face glowing with
grandmotherly affection. "As I understand it, he is the spitting image of
Bobbie's father."

David
watched as his mother once again placed a child in his arms. The boy looked up
at him with the wisest of expressions, his pale hair almost transparent.
Staring at his son, David smiled and turned his full attention on his wife.

"What
did you want to call him, Bobbie?" Tears rolled down her cheeks and
melancholy seemed to crease her precious features. Fresh worry quivered through
him. "What's the matter?"

"I
very much miss my kin," she said. "I've accepted the loss but at
moments of great pain or pleasure, I want to share."

"Roberta,"
Amelia said, coming to her daughter-in-law's side and squeezing her hand.
"I know that I could never replace your dear mother and the Lord above
knows James could never be a true father, but we would like to try."

"Thank
you," Bobbie responded, her words coming out on a sob and yet she smiled.
"I do feel as though I have found a family in David's."

Amelia
wiped away Bobbie's tears. "And I have the daughter I have always longed
for." With that, she stood. "Now, I'll be leaving you two to decide
what to call our boy."

"Mother,"
David called, as Amelia stepped into the hallway. She turned.

"Yes,
son?"

"Thank
you."

She
nodded her head. "It is truly my pleasure." With that, she closed the
door and once again, he focused on his family.

The baby
opened his mouth to yawn and David realized how tired he was and his heart
ached for Roberta. "Our little man is sleepy and I imagine his mother is,
too."

"I
am," she admitted, smoothing Charlotte's cheek. "But before I rest, I
need to know what to call him."

"Ah,
yes." David raised a thoughtful brow and as if struck by a bolt of
lightning, he knew. "Robert Shallcross Henderson."

"David,"
she whispered, her tone laced with gratitude. "You are a very thoughtful
man."

"With
Charlotte and Robert by your side, you will always feel as though your mother,
father, and brother live in our children."

Fresh
tears rolled from her eyes and the love that showed deep within her gaze had
him leaning over to kiss her. She tasted sweeter than ever, for the feelings
that burst within him soared to levels he never knew existed.

"Thank
you, Roberta," he said, his voice a husky whisper.

For not
only had she given him the gift of happiness, she had saved his life. He was
finally the man he ought to be, all thanks to a woman he should never have met,
but was destined to love.