Promises Kept (31 page)

Focusing on what she was saying kept his mind off his physical pain and his mental confusion. When she explained how she left Abilene with the boys, he realized she had to have been younger than Tate at that time. How had she survived? What a testament to her strength of character. She had certainly saved the boys from a terrible future. It was amazing that such a young woman had the determination and courage to take on so much responsibility.

Victoria stopped talking and the room was quiet again. Finally, he found the strength to open his eyes. In the dim light he saw her with her head bowed.
Is she praying?
He looked down to see why his hand was wet and cold, and he saw Bandit by his side with his cold, wet nose pressed against his hand. Not wanting to interrupt Victoria, Colt gently rubbed Bandit’s paw resting beside him, and in silent understanding, Bandit returned the affection with a lick.

When Victoria finished praying she rested her head on his arm, and after a few minutes he realized she had fallen asleep. Her soft breath tickled the hairs on his arm. He closed his eyes and thought about all she had been through the last few years. Growing up in a saloon couldn’t have been an easy life for a young, beautiful girl. In a wild town like Abilene, anything could have happened to her. When she talked about Gage Hardy, he wanted to get out of that bed and track him down and call him out. He figured he would still have his chance. Now he understood why she didn’t like cowboys. He also understood why she had lost her faith. What young girl could experience such a past and still believe there was anyone who cared about her? He understood because he’d felt that way when his mother was killed. He’d turned away from his faith, and it wasn’t until he returned to church that he realized his faith was an important part of him.

His thoughts drifted back to Tate. He knew it wasn’t a dream. He hadn’t caught a fever. Tate was dead. That sweet young boy with so much promise was gone. There was no doubt in his mind Wallace was responsible for Tate’s death, and he figured Hoyt Nelson just pulled the trigger. Both would pay for killing Tate. He choked up thinking about the boy he loved as much as his brothers. Tate’s mother was sure to be devastated. He reminded himself that the young man was in God’s hands now. But that brought him little comfort because he knew he’d let Tate down. It was his fault he’d allowed Wallace to have free rein for so long, and now Tate was dead because of his inaction. Well, no more. Wallace was going to pay.

He didn’t know how long he’d been thinking about Tate when he finally opened his eyes. Victoria was watching him. “Hello,” he said raggedly. He hardly recognized the sound of his own voice, it was so weak.

Relief overwhelmed her in the form of tears streaming down her face. “Hello yourself.”

He lifted a hand and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

Smiling through her tears, she whispered, “I’m so happy you’re awake.”

“If you’re happy you shouldn’t be crying.” His words came out in a rough whisper.

“Consider them happy tears. Would you like some water?”

“Please.”

She held his head while he gulped the water. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” He struggled, trying to move to a sitting position.

She placed a staying hand on his chest where he wasn’t covered by a bandage. “You shouldn’t be moving yet.”

Colt looked at her pale hand on his dark skin. It felt like someone shot him again. He glanced at her face and she quickly pulled her hand away. He knew she felt it too.

“Could you put two pillows behind my head?”

She put one pillow behind him. “You can’t sit all the way up. I’m afraid you will open your stitches. Can I get you something else?”

He pointed to a table across the room. “That bottle of whiskey over there.”

Quickly fetching the bottle, she poured a generous amount in a glass for him.

Throwing the whiskey back in one gulp, Colt held the glass for a refill and asked, “How long has it been?”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours.”

He had to ask, even though he knew, but prayed he was wrong. He took a deep breath and when he released it, he said one word. “Tate?”

She brushed an errant curl from his forehead and ran her palm over his cheek. “They’re taking care of him,” she responded gently. “I’m so sorry, Colt.”

He shut his eyes. “He was just a boy. I was supposed to look after him.”

She took the glass from his hand and linked her fingers through his. “Don’t you even think this was your fault,” she told him sternly. “This was the deed of a coward hiding in the dark.”

“He was still my responsibility,” he said sadly.

Hearing the misery in his words, she wondered if anyone ever looked after him. The first day she saw him at the boardinghouse, she thought he was larger than life. Since that day, she learned she was right; he was indeed larger than life, not only in stature but in his strength of character. The schedule he maintained on the ranch would be too much for many men, but she had never heard him complain. He looked after everyone: Tate and his family, Bartholomew, Tom and Helen. He’d taken time to see to her needs when she arrived in Promise. She thought of how he had taken care of Bandit, and the time he spent with the boys. He didn’t expect anything in return.

It embarrassed her to think that she had been afraid of him. She took his hand and held it tightly between hers. “You are not responsible for this in any way.”

He needed to change the subject or he was going to break down. He would think about Tate when he was alone. Finally he pulled it together enough to speak. “I didn’t ask why you are here.”

“One of your men rode over to tell us what happened and we came right over.”

His gaze moved to the chair that was usually in his office. “Was that your bed?”

“Yes, T. J. moved it up here for me. I told Helen I could sleep anywhere.”

Looking at her eyes, he thought she looked tired. “Did you sleep?”

“For a few minutes.” Those black eyes were so very hard to read. Without thinking about what she was doing, she ran her hand over his hair. “You need tending, Mr. McBride.”

He liked the way it felt to have her fingers running through his hair. “You want to give me a cut and shave?”

“I’ve never shaved a man, and I’m a bit groggy. I might nick you.”

He stared at her intently. “You could crawl in here with me and catch a nap.” He scratched Bandit behind his ears. “See, Bandit thinks it’s comfortable.”

His dark gaze made her feel warm all over. She pulled her hand away and handed him back the glass of whiskey. “You’d best be concerned with getting better.”

He drank the contents down. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m already feeling better.” Having her near did take his mind off his pain. It surprised him how much he enjoyed having her in his bedroom talking to him. “What if I told you that you could keep me warm if you were beside me?”

Her hand quickly moved to his forehead. “Are you chilled?” she asked anxiously.

He grinned up at her. “Well, my hand is cold where Bandit is resting his nose.”

She pursed her lips, trying hard not to laugh. “You are impossible, Mr. McBride.”

“Back to Mr. McBride, huh?”

She turned to leave. “I’m going to the kitchen to get you something to eat since you won’t rest.”

He reached for her hand. “Don’t go. I promise I’ll be good.”

He coaxed her to sit on the bed beside him. “Now doesn’t this feel more comfortable than that chair?”

She shook her head at him, but she did have a little smile on her face.

That encouraged him to say something he never dreamed he would say. “You know, if you married me you would have to sleep with me every night.”

Her eyes went wide. “Marry . . .
you
?”

“Yeah, me.” By the look on her face, obviously the thought of marrying him was right up there with getting shot. “Is that such a bad idea?” He hadn’t exactly planned on asking her to marry him, but once he said it, he was warming up to the idea. It was her response that set him back on his heels. Not that he expected her to jump up and down at the thought, but she sure as heck could do a lot worse in his opinion. Like marry Wallace. He surprised himself, blurting it out like that, and he couldn’t even pinpoint when the thought of marriage had wiggled into his mind. There had been times when he would be riding alone late at night and he would envision her waiting for him. Perhaps it was having her in his room that made him realize how nice it would be to have her here permanently. He could have waited until he was healed to ask her in a more formal way, but right now he didn’t want to wait, not even another minute. He thought of what Tate said that last night on the range. Tate was probably up in heaven with a big grin on his face. He was going to miss that boy.

“Colt, I can’t marry you. You don’t even know me. Not really.” She tried to move away, but he refused to release her hand.

“I know all I need to know,” he said tenderly.

“Before you left the other day, we were going to have a talk. There are things I need to tell you.”

He squeezed her hand before she could say more. “I know you need me. The boys need me. Now give me a kiss.” He pulled her closer and placed his hand behind her head and gently urged her face down to his. “This will make me feel better,” he whispered, and nibbled on her lips. He knew the moment her mind was on the kiss and not on any doubts she was having. He finally raised his head and asked, “Do you care for me?”

She didn’t respond right away, and he said, “You can be honest.” No matter what she said, the way she responded to his kiss told him she cared. She dropped her head, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes. “Victoria?”

He can’t possibly understand how much he means to me.
“Yes, I care, but that doesn’t change anything. I can’t marry you.”

“Do you want to marry Wallace?” It’d be a cold day in hel . . . Hades before he would ever allow that to happen. Wallace was going to be dead.

She was ashamed that she’d ever questioned Colt’s warnings about Wallace. “No!”

“Then what is wrong with me? I don’t mean to brag, but I hear some women think I’m a fair catch.”

She had no doubt every woman in town would think he was more than a
fair
catch. “It’s not you, it’s me.” She couldn’t deal with the possibility that he would be embarrassed if there came a time someone recognized her from her old life. Someone like Gage Hardy. “As I told you, you don’t really know me.”

“You’re going to marry me. You can’t kiss a man like that and not marry him,” he teased.

Even when she wanted to cry, he had a way of making her smile. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

She couldn’t deny it. “It’s going to be morning soon, and you need to get some rest. If you don’t lie back and get some sleep, I’m going to leave you alone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was tired and in pain, so he closed his eyes. After she sat back in the chair, he added, “Don’t think this conversation is over.”

Chapter Thirty

Victoria awoke to the aroma of fresh bread. She looked up to see Colt smiling over a large plate of food.

“I thought you were never going to wake up,” he said. “Come over here and you can share my lunch. But you better hurry; Bandit’s already eaten his fair share.” At that comment, he handed Bandit another biscuit.

“Colt McBride, you know she wouldn’t get more than a couple of bites the way you eat. I’ll bring her a plate,” Helen told him.

Straightening in the chair, Victoria could hardly believe she was looking at the same man. His face was no longer pale under that dark growth of beard, and his voice no longer sounded weak. She wouldn’t have expected him to look this good after two weeks’ time. She noticed he had two pillows stuffed behind his head propping him up, and she imagined he’d sweet-talked Helen into that.

Victoria asked, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” He winked at her.

“You said that earlier,” she replied, returning his smile.

“The doc was in after breakfast, and he said he thinks I’ll make it.”

She couldn’t believe she’d slept through the doctor’s visit. “Did he tell you to stop moving about?” she asked.

“He most certainly did,” Helen responded for him. “But he might as well have been talking to his horse for all the good it did.”

When Helen walked to the beside table to turn off the oil lamp, Colt noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You know it’ll take more than one bullet to put me down. Now you need to go home and get some rest.” Colt didn’t need the doctor to tell him he would recover, he knew he would. He’d spent the night thinking while he watched Victoria sleep, and he’d set his course of action. As difficult as it was, he’d come to terms with the loss of Tate. But the men responsible for Tate’s death were going to face him, and soon. He was also going to convince Victoria to marry him. More than anything, he wanted to be a good husband and a father for those two precious boys, and he’d asked God for the wisdom to meet that goal. The way he saw it all he had to do was persuade Victoria that he was the right man for her.

Victoria stood. “I need to check on the boys.”

Helen handed her a cup of coffee. “Just sit yourself back down and have some coffee. Don’t you worry about the boys. They had a good breakfast, and Mrs. Wellington and Bartholomew took them back to the farm. She said she would take care of things there this morning, and to tell you they would be back tonight.”

“The boys came to see me this morning before they left,” Colt told her. “We were quiet so we wouldn’t wake you.” He chuckled, thinking of the boys whispering their many questions.

“Did you say lunch? What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon,” Helen said.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I slept that late.”

“You needed some sleep. Now you stay put and I will get you something to eat,” Helen said.

“Did you get some sleep?” Victoria asked Helen.

“Yes, thanks to you.”

When Helen left the room, Colt asked, “Do you always look this beautiful in the morning?” He recalled the morning he was leaving St. Louis when he saw her in the window. “Never mind, I know you do.”