Wanted (49 page)

Morgan tried to shrug it off, but Nick reached down and with Jonathon's help laid Whitey's body over the saddle, tying him there. Morgan watched gratefully, then mounted his horse as Nick mounted Nesbitt's chestnut and helped Jonathon up behind him. Morgan turned to Nick. “You really planned to go up against him yourself?”

“If I had to,” Nick said. “But I had confidence in you. You're too damn ornery to die.”

Morgan chuckled. “That why you saved my skin?”

Nick grinned back. “Don't remind me.”

Morgan nodded, and the three of them started back to Pueblo.

Lori had the rifle aimed directly at Ford Nesbitt, who was tied and gagged when Morgan reached her. He slid off the horse, and she ran into his arms, her own going around his neck and holding him tightly to her.

“Ah, Lori,” he whispered. “Dear God, I was worried about you. Are you really all right? He didn't hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered. “And you?”

“Your brother says I'm too mean to die.” Lori pulled away from him for a moment, studied his face. “We've made peace of sorts,” Morgan said gently. “He and your father are going back to your camp. I'm going to take Whitey and … Nesbitt into town.”

Lori's gaze moved to the man tied to the horse. “Dead?”

Morgan nodded.

“You or Nick?”

“Me, but I couldn't have done it without Nick or your father.”

“I … when I saw you taking Nick's place …”

“Hush,” he whispered. And his lips pressed down on hers, tasting their sweetness, delighting in their welcome. He wanted to do more, he wanted to deepen the kiss, to expend all that terror he'd never felt for another person before. But her injuries needed attention. He reluctantly took his mouth from hers, his finger barely touching a swollen, bruised place on her face. “It's good he's dead,” Morgan said, “or I would kill him right now in cold blood.”

“I really am all right,” Lori said, trying to make her voice light, but Morgan saw the dried blood around her wrists, her torn dress. Rage surged through him again.

“I'm going to take you to a doctor,” he said.

To his surprise she nodded. “And then what, Morgan?” Her voice was soft.

“We'll stay in town tonight,” he said. “You can get some rest and medical attention, and I can take care of our friends here. It might take a while.”

“Nick?”

Nick stretched wearily in his saddle, then said somewhat dryly, “I'm going back with him to …” He paused. “El Paso, is it?”

Morgan nodded, and Lori stiffened against his body. Morgan knew a moment of resentment. Even jealousy.

“My choice,” Nick said simply. “He was right. I can't keep running the rest of my life. I have to trust him. I don't have any alternative.”

“I'm going with you,” Lori interrupted.

“I thought as much,” Morgan said grimly, resignation in his voice. “Nothing I say or do will make any difference, will it?”

She shook her head. “No. I'll just follow you again.”

Morgan didn't want to ask the question hammering in his head: because of him, or Nick? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It would be both heaven and hell to have her with them. He helped her mount Clementine and then mounted his own horse. Nick had also changed mounts, helping a bound Ford Nesbitt up on his chestnut while he took his own Dickens.

As they reached the outskirts of Pueblo, Nick and Jonathon took one trail, Lori and Morgan the other with their prisoner and Whitey Stark's corpse. There were no words this time. They had been said, and they all knew what lay ahead. Suspicion lingered. Morgan could feel it in the other two men if not Lori. He told himself it was natural; it would take a long time to earn Nick's confidence completely.

And in a matter of hours, perhaps he would learn whether his own suspicions were true, that Nick was his brother.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Nick guessed it was early in the morning by the time he and his father reached the Braden camp. They had ridden mostly in silence, except for a few words about Lori, a few questions about Morgan Davis.

“He sure as hell looks like you,” Jonathon said.

Nick was getting increasingly irritated at hearing the obvious. He nodded.

“He seems sweet on Lori.”

Nick nodded again. He didn't know how he felt about that now. He'd been furious when he'd believed the Ranger had been trifling with Lori. He didn't think that anymore. But he damn well wasn't sure fun-loving, exuberant Lori would be happy with a dour lawman.

“And Lori on him,” his father probed further.

Nick nodded again.

“Dammit, boy. You aren't saying much.”

“Nope,” Nick said, realizing that he sounded just like Morgan Davis. There was something to be said for few words.

Despite the lateness of the hour, a fire was crackling merrily, and Nick made out four figures around it. His mother. Beth. Andy. Daniel. Andy bounded up to meet them.

“What happened?”

Nick waited until he dismounted and neared the fire to answer. He smiled at Beth and saw the sudden glory of her smile. “Both Lori and Morgan Davis are fine,” he said. “I think they both needed a little doctoring, and Morgan needed to talk to the law about a dead body.” Nick suddenly realized he'd used Davis's first name.

“Lori?” Fleur said. “Why a doctor?”

“Just some bruises and cuts.” He grinned at Beth. “I really think she wanted to stay with Morgan.”

“‘Morgan'?” Beth's eyebrows raised.

“He saved my life, and I … helped save his. I guess that puts us on a first-name basis.”

“Does that mean he's letting you go?”

Beth was standing now, and he took her into his arms. “It would, if I wanted it.” His arms pulled her to him. “I decided to go back with him, get this settled once and for all. I can't even think about the ranch, or a … family until then. I've discovered recently that's very important to me.” His eyes met Beth's in the firelight. Hopes, even promises, flashed between them. He swallowed hard. She felt so right in his arms, her body leaning trustingly against his.

He lifted his gaze from her serious face and settled on his mother. She'd been crying. Daniel was next to her, his solemn face looking years older, graver than Nick had ever seen it.

“Don't worry,” Nick said. “I've developed a certain confidence in Davis, despite …”

Daniel stood up, looking somehow regal in his earnestness, in the somber look on his face. As long as Nick had known him, he'd never seen anything quite like it.

“I'll help you with the horses,” Daniel said.

The offer was more than that, and very odd coming from Daniel, who rarely interfered. He had something to say, and Nick wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. He wasn't going to change his mind now about going back to Texas. He wasn't going to risk Lori or Andy again, and he wasn't going to surrender every hope and dream he'd had. Davis held out his one hope. It might be one in ten, but it was a hell of a lot better than his odds during the last months.

Nick reluctantly let go of Beth's hand. Andy started to get up and help, but Daniel shook his head, and Andy sat back down, a heavy scowl on his face.

“There's a stream just over to the left,” Daniel said. “The horses look tired.”

“They are,” Nick said. “They've been going since dawn this morning, and every day between dawn and sunset before that.”

“He drives real hard, does he?” Daniel asked.

Nick chuckled. “You could say that.”

They reached the stream, and both men allowed the horses to drink, silent as they did so. Nick was waiting. Daniel had something on his mind, something very important.

“What do you think of Davis?” Daniel finally asked.

“I don't know,” Nick said simply. “Christ, I hated him for a long time, but lately … well, we won't ever be friends, but I've learned to respect him.” A raised eyebrow asked Daniel why the question.

Daniel dug a heel into the dirt. “Fleur asked me to talk to you. She … couldn't.”

Nick was thoroughly confused now. “Talk to me about what?”

“Maybe you'd better sit down.”

Nick was growing more and more confused. “I don't think I want to sit down. Spit it out, Daniel. Like you usually do.”

“Fleur … I … well, we think that Ranger is … could be … your twin brother.”

Nick felt as if he'd been felled by an oak tree. Or stabbed in the gut. The ground seemed to fall away from him. “I don't understand.”

“She told me tonight, Nick. I didn't know myself. I knew that Jonathon wasn't your real father. I was … there in Texas, near where El Paso is now when he found her in the desert, a newborn baby in her arms. She was nursing the child, so we assumed it was hers. When Jonathon and Fleur married, they just both claimed you.”

Nick wished he had sat. He did so now, reins trailing through his hands. “But … how …”

“I just found out tonight. The Ranger … Davis … suspected. He showed me his right foot this afternoon. Nick, he has a birthmark identical to yours. So I asked Fleur.” Daniel looked down at the ground. “She told me she had just lost a boy, a boy named Nicholas, when she stopped to help a woman giving birth. Twins. They were attacked by Comanches. Fleur was putting one of the babies in a wagon, and the horses ran off while she was in it. When she looked back, she saw the cabin burning. She didn't think anyone survived. You became her Nicholas.”

“Oh, my God,” Nick said, burying his head in his hands.

“Her husband and baby died of cholera. I think she thought of you as a gift from God. She didn't mean to do anything wrong.”

“I … understand,” Nick whispered, remembering so many things, so many times he'd felt that something was missing, that part of him was somehow misplaced. He remembered how he had hurt when the Ranger had seared his wound. How uncanny the resemblance. And then that odd connection, as if they could read each other's minds at times.

“Why didn't he say anything?”

“I think he wanted to be sure. You were so sure about your birth. He knew you didn't like him much; he … didn't want … hell, I don't know.” Daniel never swore. That he did now only demonstrated his agitation. “You have a right to know. So does he.”

Nick didn't know how he felt. Numb, for one thing. Completely numb. How could he not be the person he'd been all these years? But that was what Daniel was telling him. He wasn't Nick Braden at all. His name was Davis.

“Lori? Andy?”

Daniel looked down at the ground. “No relation, Nick, other than …”

“Other than …”

“Your heart.”

Nick felt raw inside. Naked. His family stripped away from him.

And so alone.

Sure, there was the heart connection, but … somehow that wasn't enough. Not now. Not when his whole life had been a lie. He felt swift anger toward his mother and Jonathon, for lying to him. And it spread to include Morgan Davis.

“How long has … Davis suspected?”

“Not long, I think. He apparently saw the birthmark this morning.”

This morning. A lifetime ago.

His brother. Dear God, his brother! Not only brother, but twin.

Pain billowed through him, settling deep in his gut. He'd come close to killing Davis several times. God knew he'd wanted to. He recalled how Morgan had stuck out his hand several hours ago, knowing it would probably be rejected, almost was. Now he understood the puzzled looks earlier today, the searching glances. He wondered whether the relationship was as hard for Morgan to accept as it was for him.

A Ranger and an outlaw.

His hand had been digging into the earth, seeking some kind of ballast. Daniel was still standing there, waiting.

“I want to be alone,” Nick said.

Daniel nodded. “Fleur … is sick with worry. Afraid you wouldn't understand. Can I tell her …?”

“Tell her she'll always be my mother,” Nick said softly.

Daniel went over to him, touched his shoulder. Nick looked up and saw tears in his eyes. He had never seen Daniel shed tears before, not even after he endured brutal attacks and vicious taunts because of his size. Before Nick could say anything, though, the small man took the reins of the horses and started back to camp.

“Leave Dickens here,” Nick said.

Daniel hesitated, then tied the reins of Nick's horse to a tree and disappeared through the woods.

Lori couldn't take her eyes away from Morgan's face. She had come too close to losing him. Not only a few hours ago but several times. She was still dreadfully afraid of losing him.

She wondered how it was possible to love this much, especially someone she'd once thought she hated. Part of her understood. Hate and love were both strong, passionate emotions, each causing earthquake tremors in a soul.

And her heart and soul had been torn asunder by those quakes, ripped by her loyalty to Nick and her blossoming love for a man who didn't know the meaning of compromise. He probably never would, she thought wistfully. Morgan Davis was a man of black and white. A loner by nature. A lawman by choice. If anyone had told her months ago that she would fall so completely in love with such a man, she would have laughed aloud.

There was no laughter in her now as she looked at him. Both she and Nick rode well, better than well. They had both been able to leap to the bare back of a pony, landing on their feet. But neither of them had the affinity that Morgan had with a horse. It was as if the two were one, Morgan and his Damien.

But now he sat stiffly, and Lori wondered whether he hadn't been hurt more than he'd indicated. She knew from her own experience with Whitey Stark that he enjoyed inflicting pain. She knew enough about Morgan to realize he would never give in to it.

As if he sensed her perusal, he turned and gave her a slow tentative smile. It came as close to a real smile as any she'd seen on his face. And, surprise of surprise, he winked at her. He was astonishingly good at it. Delightedly, she sensed a playfulness that must have had been lurking deep inside him for years. It wasn't very experienced, but it would do, she thought, as a start.