Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
Winter's Night (10 page)
Pete swore, then went for his gun.
O'Connell didn't think. He merely reacted. He was tired of his brother's schemes, and tired of the lives Pete had taken for no reason.
It was time for it to end.
He grabbed his brother's gun, and the two of them struggled for it.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Catherine watched the
men tussle from the parlor window. She had sent Diana upstairs with Rebecca, then immediately sought out the marshal to let him know there was a possible outlaw outside.
She pressed her hand to her lips as terror sliced through her as she watched the two men fighting for possession of the gun. What had she done?
A gunshot rang out.
Catherine stopped breathing. Michael and Pete froze and locked gazes. Time seemed suspended as she waited.
Who had been shot?
Then Michael staggered back, and she saw the red stain on his shirtfront right before he collapsed on the ground.
“No!” she shouted as tears stung the backs of her eyes. It couldn't be Michael! It couldn't be.
Pete just looked down at him, his face indecipherable.
Dropping her shawl, Catherine ran for the door, down the steps, and across the yard to Michael's side.
His brother stood coldly to the side as the marshal and his men put irons on his wrists.
Sobbing, she knelt by Michael's side. Terrified and shaking, she touched his cold brow.
“Michael?” she breathed.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. In that look she saw the love he had for her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips.
“Save your strength,” she whispered. She looked up to Marshal McCall, who stared angrily at Pete.
“I always heard you were mean, but damn, to shoot your own brother on Christmas? You're a sick man, O'Connell,” the marshal said to Pete.
His face blank, Pete glanced down to her and Michael, then back at the marshal.
“What are you, stupid? Do we
look
like brothers?” Pete drawled slowly. “My brother got killed in Shiloh last month during our last holdup. That there's just some stupid cow-poke thinks he's a bounty hunter. Bastard's been trailing me for weeks. I don't even know his name.” Pete locked gazes with her, then shocked her with his words, “But I think the lady over there knows him. Ask her who he is.”
The marshal gave her a probing stare. “That true, Miss Catherine? You know this man?”
A tremor of panic shook her as she realized Michael's entire fate was in her hands.
What should she answer?
She looked down at Michael's calm, deliberate stare. He expected her to betray him. She could read it plainly in his eyes as he waited for her to denounce him.
But she couldn't. She didn't know everything yet, but before she handed him over to the marshal, she wanted some long-overdue answers. Answers he couldn't very well give her locked up in jail.
“He's my husband,” she answered honestly. “Michael O'Callahan.”
The marshal gave her a hard stare. “I thought you said your husband ran off.”
“He did,” she said, looking back at Michael. “But he came home to me last night.”
“Farley,” the marshal shouted to his deputy. “Help me carry Miss Catherine's husband inside while Ted locks up O'Connell.”
The marshal helped her to her feet.
“Where you want us to take him?” the marshal asked.
“To my room,” she said, leading the way back into the boardinghouse.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Michael O'Connell didn't
say anything for the rest of the day. His head swam with what had happened.
Why had Pete lied?
Why had Catherine protected him, when she could have easily seen him in prison for the next ten to twenty years?
None of it made any sense to him, and worse, Catherine had avoided coming into the room for him to question her. If he'd been able to, he would have gone after her himself, but he was too weak to do much more than just breathe.
The door to his room creaked open. He glanced over to see a tiny dark head peeking in.
He smiled at the sight of his daughter in the doorway.
When Diana saw him look her way, the little girl smiled from ear to ear.
She fanned the door back and forth as she twisted in the door frame. “Are you really my daddy?” she asked.
“What did your mama say?”
“She said St. Nick brought you to me last night.”
O'Connell gave a half laugh at her words, but he couldn't manage any more than that, since pain cut his breath off. Pete had been called a lot of things over the years, but this was the first time anyone had ever referred to his brother as St. Nick.
“Yeah,” he said with a grimace. “I guess maybe he did.”
Releasing the doorknob, she ran across the room and scrambled to sit next to him on the bed. He winced at the pain she caused by dipping the mattress, but in truth he didn't mind it at all. To have his daughter near him, he would suffer a lot worse than that.
“You sure are pretty for a man.”
O'Connell smiled at her words. No one had ever said
that
to him before.
She reached out one little hand to touch his eyelid. “You do have eyes like mine. Mama told me you did.”
He cupped her soft cheek, amazed at what he saw in her face. It was so strange to see parts of him mixed in with parts of Catherine.
Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful little girl. “We get them from my mother.”
“Was she pretty, too?”
“Like you, she was as pretty as an angel.”
“Diana!”
He started at Catherine's chiding tone.
“I told you not to disturb him.”
“I'm sorry, Mama.”
“She's not disturbing me,” he said, dropping his hand from her face.
Catherine shooed her out anyway. At first he thought she'd leave as well, but she hesitated in the doorway.
“Why didn't you tell me who you really were?” she asked.
He stared at her. “I liked the man you saw me as. To you, I was a decent man, not some no-account outlaw drifter. The last thing I wanted was for you to change your mind about me and hate me.”
“So you lied to me?”
“Not really. I just didn't tell you everything.”
She shook her head. “I always knew you were hiding
something
from me. I was just never sure what. Funny, I used to think it was another woman you loved, not a lunatic brother.”
He gave her a hard, meaningful look. “I could never love anyone but you.”
“Do you mean that?”
“On my life.”
And then she gifted him with one of those loving smiles that had kept him warm on the coldest days. “So tell me, Michael, where do we go from here?”
Christmas Eve. Two years later
Â
“Hey, Pa, where do we go from here?”
Michael looked up at nine-year-old Frank's question. After Catherine had given him his second chance, the two of them had decided to adopt the orphans she'd been keeping. And every day of the last two years, he had spent every minute making up to her for the time they had been apart.
She would never again have cause to doubt him, and he reveled in the blessing of his family and home.
“I think you'd best be asking your mother that question,” he said to Frank. “Catherine?”
“It's the big white house at the end of the street,” she said as she waddled up to them beside the train station.
Michael grinned at the sight of her pregnant body. He'd missed seeing her carry Diana, but he was definitely enjoying her now.
The way Catherine figured, they had two more months before the baby would join them. Just enough time to visit her parents with their passel of children in tow, and then make it back home in time for the little one's birth.
Four of the orphans still lived with them. Five children total with Diana. Michael smiled as he watched all of them climb aboard the wagon he had rented.
He'd always wanted a big family.
“You nervous?” he asked Catherine as he draped a comforting arm over her shoulders. She hadn't seen her parents since the day they had eloped almost seven years before.
“A little. And you?”
“A little.”
Even so, he was too grateful for his life to mind even a lengthy visit at his in-laws'. He still found it hard to believe Pete had lied to save him.
“I've ruined your life enough, Kid. This is one place I think I'd best go to alone,” Pete had told him.
Pete would be in prison for a long time to come. Maybe it would make his brother a better man.
All he could do was hope that one day his brother would find the peace that had always eluded him.
Michael placed a tender kiss on Catherine's brow as he took Diana's hand in his and helped her up into the wagon.
Every day for the last two years, he had been grateful that his wife had stood by him, even though it was the last thing he'd deserved.
“Thank you, Cathy,” he breathed as he helped her climb into the wagon seat.
“For what?” she asked.
“For making my life worth living.”
Her smile warmed him to his toes. “It's been my pleasure, Mr. O'Callahan. Merry Christmas.”
And a Merry Christmas it would be, too. For in this life, there were second chances, and this time, Michael wouldn't waste the one he'd been given.
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