The Outlaw and the Lady (19 page)

With tears streaming down her lovely face, Angela had returned to her family. Deep inside, Lee wept as well for what they might have shared. He had trusted her, and she had tricked him into being caught by men with the power to destroy him—had she not destroyed him first.

Angela had spoken time and again of trust. Her treachery hurt all the more because he had confided in her, risked his family, and exposed his heart. He had proposed marriage. The moment should have reflected exultation, not humiliation.

He could not shake off his shame. The Rangers had been watching when he’d dropped to his knees before her. He had revealed his unbridled love, and these strangers had witnessed the full extent of his betrayal.

She might succeed in convincing herself that she had done it out of concern for his family and hers, but he would never forgive her for not trusting him to protect those he loved.

He watched as Angela’s mother offered comfort by brushing her daughter’s hair. He clenched his hands with the memory of those magnificent strands fanned out over his chest.

He tore his gaze away from the women and studied the stars. He could connect the bits of light to create images, but he could not piece together all the fragments of his life.

He refused to accept Angela’s claim that he was Damon Montgomery. Although he’d considered the possibility when she’d first mentioned the child’s name, he’d quickly dismissed the coincidence. A man with Montgomery’s reputation
would have found his son—unless he’d been glad to be rid of him. Lee had found that thought too painful to contemplate.

A movement caught his attention, and he watched Montgomery stride confidently across the camp he commanded with little more than a look or a stance. Lee’s heart thundered as the older man neared. Until today, he hadn’t realized that in the past few years, he’d seen Montgomery every time he looked into the mirror—only the lines in the Ranger’s face ran more deeply.

Montgomery crouched before him, scrutinizing him as though he wanted to pierce his soul. “Let’s take a walk,” he said quietly.

Reaching out, he inserted a key into the shackles’ lock. Lee’s mouth went dry as he studied the large hands and long, slender fingers that worked to free him. Had they ever been applied to his backside? Held him? Taken his child’s hand while the man they belonged to walked beside him explaining the mysteries of the world? They were the hands that should have guided him through life.

“It’s true what they say, you do not wear a gun,” Lee said inanely for no other reason than that the silence stretching between them was unnerving.

“I find pistols cumbersome, but I have a nasty fist that I’m not afraid to use.”

“So do I.”

In the dancing light of the fire, Lee thought he saw pain slash across Montgomery’s face. The
iron bracelets fell away from his wrists and clanked to the ground. Montgomery stood, and Lee slowly did the same, his muscles stiff from sitting still for so long. One of the men standing nearby with a rifle stepped toward them.

“No need to follow, Sean,” Montgomery said. “We’ll be quite all right.”

The two men walked away from the camp, Lee acutely aware of the unexpected sense of familiarity that now overpowered him. He’d always thought that his body bore the scars of truth: he’d been unwanted, neglected, unloved…until a Mexican family had taken him in and embraced him as one of their own. Now, he no longer knew what to make of his conclusions.

Montgomery came to an abrupt halt and darted a glance at the stars, the tree, and the ground before settling an unwavering gaze on Lee. “Have you any notion as to the reason that you call yourself Lee Raven?”

Lee thought back to the days after Shelby’s attack. He’d dug a shallow grave beside his parents’ and put up a marker bearing his real name. As long as Shelby thought he was dead, the man would search for a phantom. Then Lee had combed the recesses of his mind for a name to adopt, a name that would mean nothing to Shelby…but for reasons he’d never been able to comprehend, it meant something to him. “I wanted an alias that couldn’t be connected to my family.”

“You failed miserably in that regard, then…or perhaps not. I never spotted the similarity,”
Montgomery murmured as though lost in thought. He smiled sadly. “Ravenleigh is the name of my family’s estate in England. From the moment my first son was born, he was taught that he was the heir presumptive and that someday he would become the Earl of Ravenleigh.”

Lee’s stomach clenched. He took two faltering steps back until he slammed against a tree and could use it to support his quaking legs. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Raven Lee.”
Lee Raven
. The words had become entangled in his memory. The name swirling like a gray mist through his memories suddenly settled into place, and he was a boy listening to his father speak with pride about his family home. Ravenleigh. His heritage. All along, the name he’d chosen had reflected his past more than he’d realized.

“Before you were Lee Raven, did you go by another name?”

Slowly Lee nodded. “Damon Rodriguez.”

“Damon,” he repeated softly. “Your mother selected the name.”

Your mother
. They were the first words Montgomery had spoken that confirmed what Lee had been unwilling to accept, had not dared to admit. Although Angela had told him, he’d refused to believe, but now the truth took root. The man standing before him
was
his father. No, no, Juan Rodriguez had been his father. He had taught Lee to tend cattle, to show respect toward women, and to love his Mexican heritage.

“Do you remember her?” Montgomery asked,
and within his voice, Lee heard the deep, abiding love he held for his wife.

“No.”

“Her hair is the same shade as yours. Much longer, of course. Although, you could do with a haircut.”

“
Sí
.” Combing his fingers through his hair, he stilled. He’d seen Montgomery make the same gesture numerous times as they’d set up camp.

“You speak Spanish.”

“Without thinking. It is the way I was raised.”

Montgomery flinched. Lee didn’t know if he’d ever think of him as his father, but perhaps that was for the best. He didn’t want Montgomery to see him as his son. He could not imagine the disappointment the man was experiencing to discover his son was an outlaw. And worse, to have thought he was dead once, and to be forced to endure his death again.

“Do you know how you came to be with the Rodriguez family?”

Lee swallowed hard. He found it more difficult to trust after Angela’s recent betrayal, but he saw no harm in revealing this information. “Juan Rodriguez found me. I was hurt, sick, and hungry.”

“Do you remember anything before that?”

Like wispy gray smoke, a memory eased past his defenses, but vulnerability, sorrow, and shame traveled with it. He remembered pain, paralyzing fear…but before that…nothing. “No. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You were very young—”

“How old am I?” Lee blurted. They’d always celebrated his birthday on the day that they’d found him, but they’d never added years. They’d assumed Alejandro was older because he was taller, but with a full belly every night, Lee had quickly outsized him.

“Twenty.”

He nodded. He was younger than Alejandro. He should have figured it out. Angela had told him that she was four years older than the boy she’d lost—and he had become exactly what he’d feared he was when she’d told him the boy’s name—he was that child. “Angela told me what happened, but I don’t remember it.”

“That’s probably for the best. I want you to know that I never stopped looking,” Montgomery said somberly.

Lee’s gut tightened and he looked away. He had no desire to see the plea for understanding in the man’s eyes, the need for Lee to acknowledge that Montgomery was his father.

“I scoured every Indian village and outlaw hideaway. I gained a reputation for being obsessed with justice when my true goal was to locate my son. Damon—”

Lee snapped his gaze to Montgomery’s. “No, I must remain Lee Raven. That is the man who must go to the gallows. I will not bring shame to the family who raised me…or any other family.”

“Your mother—”

“Should never know. It would be cruel to tell her you found a man who resembled your son—”

“Resembled my son? Is that what you bloody well think?” He took a step closer, and Lee saw the faint moonlight glistening within the tears in his father’s eyes. “You are my son, by God. I don’t give a bloody damn what you call yourself. You are my son!”

Lee bolted away from the tree and began to pace. “I have read your story. I know the kind of man you are. You are a man of honor.” He came to an abrupt halt, faced Montgomery, and hit his own chest. “I have killed.”

“You think I haven’t?”

“You kill within the confines of the law.”

“Sometimes situations cannot be defined by law,” Montgomery said quietly. “This morning, you could have shot at us.”

“Angela might have gotten hurt.”

“You could run now.”

“I thought you said you had a mean fist?”

Montgomery smiled, actually smiled. “I do, but I have old legs. You’d outdistance me in no time, assuming you’re as quick on your feet as Spence. He’s your brother, you know.”

“I can see the resemblance between the two of you.”

“You also have a sister named Mercy who’s fifteen. As serene as her mother.”

A sister—a sister it would be best if he never met.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Montgomery
leaned against the tree. “So what am I to do with you?”

“Forget you found me.”

“Not bloody likely. Why did you kill Floyd Shelby?”

Lee lowered his head and studied the shadowed ground between his feet. “He did not deserve to breathe the same air as my family.” He lifted his gaze.

“Care to be a bit more specific?”

He thought of Juanita’s pain, her tears, and the vow he’d given her. She’d suffered too much already, and he knew revealing the truth would do little to vindicate his actions. He wasn’t willing to risk hurting her further, and he didn’t know if Montgomery would respect his desire to protect Juanita. “No. I cannot explain my reasons for killing him, but other things that happened, what Vernon Shelby did, I can explain. Angela said if I told you that you might help my brothers get their land back.”

Montgomery shoved himself away from the tree. “Let’s walk a bit more. I can think better when I’m walking.”

Once again, Lee fell into step beside him.

“I thought of you every day, but never thought of you growing up,” Montgomery said. “I used to have to take smaller steps so you could match my stride.”

And for a fleeting instant, Lee captured the memory of walking in the tall shadow of a man…and holding his hand.

Lee sat within the circle of the fire, continually reminding himself that he was a prisoner, even though he was no longer shackled. Sooner or later, the manacles would go back on.

“I heard your family stole cattle,” Spence said.

“Lies. They were good people.”

“Did vigilantes kill them?” Spence asked.

“Shelby and his men—with the sheriff’s blessing. Men who came here after the War Between the States and had no respect for the Mexicans who had worked the land before them. They stole what belonged to us, what had been earned with sweat and blood.”

Montgomery raised a brow, but Lee wouldn’t take back his words. After so many years, he’d begun to think of himself as more Mexican than white, if he thought of the shade of his skin at all. He couldn’t have loved the Rodriguez family more if he had been born to them.

“Vigilantes killing rustlers has long been an accepted practice where cattle empires thrive. Barely two years ago in Wyoming, they hanged Cattle Kate and her lover for stealing cattle,” Spence said.

Lee had a strong urge to plow his fist into Spence’s face. “Are you saying that Shelby’s actions were justified?”

“I am simply insinuating that he did not set a precedent with his actions. Nor is he the last do to do what he did.”

“Did the family have a deed to the land?” Montgomery asked.

Lee wasn’t certain, but surely they possessed some proof of ownership. “Sam Houston deeded the land to them. I would think there would be a record of that somewhere. You will see that the land is returned to them?”

Montgomery gave a long, slow nod. “If indeed we can prove the land is theirs and was wrongfully taken from them. What is your brothers’ involvement in Floyd Shelby’s death?”

“None at all.”

“The bank robberies?”

“I alone am responsible for my crimes. My brothers are not to be held accountable for what I did.”

“You leave a hell of a lot of tracks for a man who rides alone,” Montgomery said.

“They may ride with me on occasion, but they had no part in the crimes I committed.” A small lie, but under the circumstances, he thought it entirely justified.

“They won’t be punished,” Montgomery said, and Lee heard the reputation for honesty and integrity his father had acquired reverberating in his voice.

His father. For a brief moment, with the relief that his family would be safe, he almost considered allowing his original family back into his heart. But it would be hard enough to walk to the gallows with what he had to give up. Impossible if he were forced to relinquish more.

He thought it a shame that Fate had chosen not to be kind. He wished Kit Montgomery had never learned the truth about him, had been left to be
lieve that his son died all those years ago.

In truth, now he had died twice. The third time would no doubt be, as they said, a charm.

“It’s numbing, isn’t it?” Gray asked quietly, “when the dead return to life?”

Kit realized that Gray would be the one to know. After all, his wife’s first husband had managed the feat.

He and Gray were the only ones remaining by the fire. Except for the men standing guard, everyone else had retired to their bedrolls. Kit’s sons lay on opposite sides of the camp. Neither seemed to be sleeping.

“Numb. An apt description. I’d always expected to feel overjoyed, ecstatic, but all I can think is that I’m going to have to watch him hang.”