The Texan's Dream (24 page)

Kara followed his orders and pulled off her glasses. She placed them beside the note and stood to face Devin. “If I leave quietly with you, promise me no one will be hurt.”

Devin looked bothered. “All right. I’ve nothing against these people. All I want to do is leave. You’ll see, Karina, as soon as you’ve had a few days back home you’ll come to your senses and know I’m right.”

He handed her one of her bags. “It’s not going to be easy getting out of this house, but once we do, all will be clear. Every man on the ranch is downstairs. I’ll bet there will be no guards along the wall today.”

He sneezed again and nudged her with a suitcase.

A hundred thoughts flashed through her mind as he forced her into the deserted hallway. She thought of screaming. Men would storm the stairs in seconds. But one might get killed, and Kara couldn’t risk that.

She’d go with him, and she’d wait for her chance. He might be a strong man, but he was out of his element and weakened by a cold. He thought she was still the girl he’d known back home, but Kara had matured over the months. She’d fight when the time was right, and when she did, she’d win.

“They’ll notice I’m not at dinner.” Kara moved down the back stairs to the closed-in porch. No one from the kitchen heard them leave.

“No, they won’t.” Devin grabbed her arm with his free hand and almost dragged her through the garden. “Your father said you were always a daydreamer. Well, you’re dreaming now if you think you mean anything to these people. Catlin probably only feels sorry for you, thinking of you like he would a lost kitten he found.”

Kara stared at him, trying to read his mind as he shoved her against the adobe wall and opened the back gate behind the bunkhouse.

“I’m only doing what’s best for you, girl.” He pushed her out the gate toward a waiting buggy.

Kara fought to keep from getting in the buggy. Until that moment, she’d thought Jonathan would put an end to Devin’s crazy plan. But how could he? Jonathan didn’t even know they were leaving.

“Get in,” Devin ordered with a push. “By nightfall, you’ll be my wife. You’ll forget all about this place.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

JONATHAN WAS LISTENING TO THE TOASTS BEFORE dinner when he noticed Snort working his way through the crowd toward him.

“Boss.” The little man twitched. The fleas of trouble jumping over him again.

“Another person missing?” Jonathan asked. He’d already noticed Devin O’Toole wasn’t among the guests. The man probably still snored in the bunkhouse, sleeping off the effects of the cold remedy Luther kept spooning him.

Snort nodded. “First, I noticed O’Toole absent from his usual places on the porch or in his bunk. When I went to tell Miss Kara, I couldn’t find her, either.”

“Maybe she’s in the kitchen,” Jonathan guessed. Most of the women hadn’t joined them yet.

“Tried there. No one’s seen her for over an hour.”

“The barn …”

“Looked there, too. Quil was sleeping close beside the woman who thinks she’s Indian. But no sign of Miss Kara.”

Jonathan glanced around the room. “What about up …?”

“Been there, too. Her door is closed, but no one answered when I knocked. I also checked the study and every other place I could think she might be.”

Moving toward the front door, Jonathan whispered, “Don’t alarm anyone. Let’s just have a look around.” Though his words were casual, his actions were not. He signaled for Wolf and Newton to follow him outside. Mary Ann also joined them, standing in the doorway just behind the men.

When Jonathan caught her gaze, he tried to smile, not wanting to alarm Kara’s friend.

She stepped forward. “I noticed ten minutes ago something was wrong.” Her frightened voice trembled. “I know why all of you are gathering. Kara’s missing. When Snort asked me if I’d seen her, I looked around. I have a bad feeling something has happened.”

Jonathan welcomed her into the small circle.

Once they were on the porch and out of view of the others, they divided the house and grounds and split up to search. Mary Ann took the bedrooms upstairs; Jonathan, the bunkhouse. Snort agreed to have another look in the barn. Newton and Wolf spread out to all other buildings within the wall.

Five minutes later, Snort was the last man to return. “Any luck?” Jonathan asked. With Wolf and Newton at his side, it was obvious they’d placed their hopes on Snort’s findings.

The old man wiped his face with a handkerchief despite the frosty air. “None, but we’ve got another problem. The guard on the front gate says there’s a rider coming in, a man who sits tall in the saddle.”

“Where’s H. B.?” Jonathan nodded for Newton to summon other guards.

“That’s another problem I got biting at me. I can’t find H. B.” Snort’s count was off again. “He was the last man to take guard duty in the barn. He may be sleeping in the loft; he’s not much for parties. But, ain’t like him not to be here with trouble riding in. He’s got a sixth sense about that kind of thing.”

“We don’t know the rider means trouble.” Wolf grumbled. “We only know three people are missing and someone is coming. He could be just a cowhand arriving late.”

Mary Ann hurried through the door. “I found a note from …” She stopped as a tall old man rode through the gate. He looked to be well over six feet and his hair was as white as the snow dusting around his shoulders.

Jonathan stepped forward with Snort and Newton banking him. “Wells,” he said in greeting.

The old man slowly lowered off his horse. “Catlin.” He nodded. “I came alone. I understand this Christmas dinner you have is open to all.”

“You’re right.” Jonathan showed no emotion. “And you are welcome.”

Wells didn’t move. “Before I accept your hospitality, I want you to know that I’ve come because of Angela.”

Twenty men stood on the porch and in the open doorway behind Jonathan, and he’d swear not one of them even breathed.

“Angela?” Jonathan questioned.

“I’ve known about her for years.” Wells’s eyes looked tired. “Knew she was born the night my son was killed. He’d asked me if he could marry Gideon’s daughter weeks before, but I said no. When he died, I didn’t want to think there was a child.”

He removed his hat. “It was easier to hate than to admit I had a part in his dying that night. Now, I guess I’m too old and too tired to hate any longer.”

Angela stepped from the crowd.

Wells stared at her, taking in her dark skin and her height.

She moved nearer. “Did you have any part in the deaths of our guards?” she asked directly. “Or the shooting of two that are still recovering?”

“I did not,” he answered. “I lost a man to a rustler’s bullet last week. In my blind anger I thought it was Catlin or one of his men, but we caught the shooter before he crossed my border.” He turned his attention to Jonathan. “The fellow got real talkative before we turned him over to two rangers. He told of a gang of outlaws moving this direction, hitting every ranch and testing the waters before they move in for a big raid.”

Wells faced Jonathan. “When I realized I was wrong about you, I figured you could be having the same problems and be guessing it was me. You were man enough to face me directly when you thought I’d caused you trouble. I can do the same. I thought next week we could talk. Maybe we can work together on fighting them.”

“Maybe.” Jonathan offered his hand. “Will you join us for dinner?”

Wells waited for Angela to comment. “I came because of Angela.” He repeated his first statement. “The other could have waited until tomorrow, but on Christmas a man should be with whatever family he has left. If they’ll have him, that is.”

“There’s a table set up in the kitchen. We’ve room for one more there.” She didn’t smile as she made her offer.

“I’d like that.” Wells followed her inside.

Slowly, the guest moved back to the house, talking. Only those who had watched Wells ride in remained. Mary Ann stood in the center of their small circle. She still held the note.

Jonathan lifted it from her fingers and read it aloud, then crumpled it in his fist. Kara’s words ripped his heart from his chest. It took every ounce of control not to allow his emotions to show. He was as hard as ever on the outside, but he was crumbling to dust inside. She’d dismissed him with the kindness of a stranger.

“I guess that answers the whereabouts of two of the missing,” Snort reasoned. “There ain’t no accounting for who a woman will pick to be her man.”

Jonathan fought the hollowness in his gut as Snort rattled on about the time he’d lost a wife to a piano player.

She’d walked out, he told himself. Kara had walked out when she’d said she would stay. He’d thought he’d have the rest of the year to be with her. Even if she decided to leave then, he would have had the year.

Mary Ann handed Jonathan Kara’s glasses. “She left these beside the note.”

He stared at the wire frames for a moment before the truth slammed into him. Kara would never forget her glasses.

“That’s odd.” Snort leaned close. “I wouldn’t think she could see ‘many happy days’ without her spectacles.”

“She didn’t go willingly.” Jonathan carefully placed her glasses in his vest pocket. “Snort’s right. These are the first things she looks for each morning. She would never leave them behind.”

“Let’s go bring her back,” Newton shouted.

“No,” Jonathan answered, “I’ll bring her back. This time, I don’t want any help. This is something I need to do alone.”

Snort would have objected, but Newton laid a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Jonathan’s right. He can deal with the Irishman by himself. He doesn’t need our help.”

“I’ll need you here to make sure the dinner goes well.” Jonathan nodded toward Mary Ann. “I know I can count on you. Will you and Newton take over as hosts?”

Mary Ann placed her hand on Newton’s arm and nodded.

Jonathan grabbed his coat and gun belt then headed for the barn, knowing the Old Guard was watching and wanting to go along. But he’d face O’Toole man to man, and have that talk with Kara.

By the time he saddled up, Snort told him about a set of buggy tracks running from the back gate. Jonathan had his direction. If O’Toole was smart, he’d head straight to town. With the way the wind was blowing, the weather could turn bad within a few hours. A man with any sense wouldn’t get caught out in a buggy.

Jonathan didn’t know how much of a head start they had on him. An hour, he guessed, maybe less. On horseback, he’d catch them long before they reached Brady.

Pounding hooves ate the distance. Jonathan’s rage turned to worry. The buggy trail took first one wrong turn, then another. Where did O’Toole think he was going ? Did the Irishman have any idea how to get to town? Why would O’Toole take Kara with him?

Unless O’Toole wanted to take all that mattered to me, Jonathan thought, admitting Kara’s value. He could tell himself no one meant anything to him. He could scream it at Kara. But he could no longer convince his heart.

If she left, a part of him went with her.

The wind blew thin ice across his face. He didn’t slow down. He wanted to kill Devin for taking Kara away, for driving her out into this weather. But, what if the man loved her? What if he thought he was doing the right thing? Kara had told Jonathan often enough that O’Toole planned to marry her. Could he kill another man for loving her?

His hand crossed over the glasses in his pocket. Kara hadn’t wanted to go. He knew it. She would never leave her glasses … she would never leave him. She had to have known he’d understand the clue she’d left him. And she had to know he’d come after her.

If Devin took her by force, he’d be burying the man by dawn.

Jonathan used senses beyond sight to stay on the road as snow drifted across the land. He slowed when a black speck appeared in front of him. He neared. The buggy came into view.

He was within twenty feet before he realized the small carriage leaned dangerously to one side. Jonathan swung from his mount and walked the rest of the way.

He saw Kara trying to get the horse to pull the buggy from a deep rut. “Come on, give me some help, and I’ll see you have oats soon,” she coached, with little skill as to how to guide the animal.

Reluctantly, Jonathan pulled his gaze from her and looked around for Devin. The man lay flat on the ground beside the buggy. At first, Jonathan thought he might have been thrown when the buggy hit the rut, but Kara’s travel bag beside his head suggested otherwise.

Jonathan stepped over the Irishman’s body. “Good af ternoon,” he said to Kara as if it were a bright, sunny day and all was right with the world.

She jumped, then faced him. “I didn’t want to come along.” She held her chin high. “He made me write that note.”

“I figured that.” Jonathan took another step toward her and handed her the glasses.

She put them on. “Devin said he’d shoot you if I didn’t leave with him.”

Jonathan poked the Irishman’s body with the toe of his boot. “Speaking of O’Toole, unusual place to take a nap.”

“When he got out to check the wheel, I clubbed him.” Kara smiled. “I had no intention of going with him or of marrying him tonight.”

Jonathan nodded, as if only mildly interested, and took another step toward her.

“Would you club me if I asked you to marry me?” Kara grinned. “I might. You want no ties, remember? So you’d best be prepared to duck if you ask.”

“I’ve been trying to ask you something for days.” He slipped his hands around her waist and tugged her against him. “When you left, you confirmed what I’d been thinking might be true.” He leaned forward touching his forehead to hers. “My heart doesn’t beat without you near. Whether I want ties or not, I don’t seem to be alive without you.”

She moved into his arms.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Kara was in his embrace. Back where she belonged.

“Very nice!” O’Toole’s voice shattered the moment. “It looks like true love.”

Jonathan stared at the gun in O’Toole’s hand and nudged Kara slowly behind him.

The Irishman stood rubbing the side of his head. “I didn’t want to kill you, Karina. Honest, I didn’t. But now I have no choice. You’re making me do things just like your father did.”

He moved closer, his voice now a whine. “I’m sure, for a few dollars, I can find someone in Fort Worth to forge a marriage license. Then I’ll tell everyone you died in a carriage accident on the way home. Which won’t be far from the truth.”

“You’re not going to kill her.” Jonathan stood his ground, watching O’Toole closely. “You haven’t got the guts, because you will have to shoot me first.”

“No problem with that.” O’Toole fought down a sneeze. “I’ll be out of the state before anyone finds either of your bodies. And to think I killed you with one of your own guns.”

He waved the weapon, pleased with his own wit. “I found it in your study. Who knows? With luck, they’ll think you killed her and then yourself.”

Jonathan glanced down at the small Navy Colt in Devin’s hand. “That’s not the gun from my desk drawer, is it?”

Devin nodded. “I noticed it when I helped myself to a little traveling money. I figured you’d think Karina took it and probably not even report the loss.”

Jonathan moved nearer. “That gun hasn’t been used since the war. I meant to get it fixed. Now, I’m glad I didn’t.”

Devin looked worried.

“You didn’t find any bullets with it, did you?” Jonathan took a step closer to Devin.

“I borrowed some from a gun belt in the bunkhouse. Why?”

“That gun has a bent barrel. It’s as likely to go off in the shooter’s hand as to fire. And the aim is far from true if it does fire.”

Devin moved backward a few inches. “I don’t believe you.”

Jonathan shrugged. “That’s why I kept it unloaded in my study.”

“You’re lying. And I’m through talking.”

O’Toole raised the weapon to Jonathan’s chest. As he hesitated, he sneezed, suddenly giving Jonathan the moment he’d been waiting for.

Like an animal springing on his prey, Jonathan flung himself at O’Toole.

The weapon fired.