Kendrick: Outlaw's Bride Part 17

"I need directions to his place."

Frank emptied his gla.s.s. "If you care to ride along, I'm going there now."

Calloway nodded his agreement.

Frank had left his horse tied out front. He mounted and followed Calloway to the livery, where he waited while the gunfighter saddled his horse. Frank wasn't in much of a mood to talk, which suited both men just fine.

The ride in the dark was peaceful. There wasn't much to hear but the sound of the wind in the gra.s.s, the jingle of the bit and the creak of saddle leather, the clop of horses' hooves, and once in a while, the yip of a coyote. The night was clear, and stars filled the sky as far as a man could see. There were so many they couldn't be counted. Frank had fallen asleep once, trying. A man felt how small he was with so much s.p.a.ce around him.

As they neared the ranch, Frank finally broke the silence between them. "Did Trahern say why he hired you?"

"Just that he needed my services," Calloway replied.

"He wants you to kill a friend of mine."

Calloway eyed Frank warily. "I'm real sorry about that."

"I'm asking you to ride out of here, now. Forget you ever heard of this town."

Calloway shook his head. "Can't do it. Got a reputation to keep. I always earn my fee."

Frank felt the hair-trigger tension in the gunfighter. One wrong move, and it would be all over. He didn't intend to draw; he was no match for a fast gun. But Frank owed Ethan what help he could offer. He had to speak on the chance he could head off a showdown. "My friend has done his share of killing, too. You might be the one ends up dead."

Calloway shrugged. "Just makes my job more interesting."

Frank left Calloway in front of Trahern's house and headed for the barn to stable his horse. He knew Ethan could take care of himself. He always had. But Calloway worried him. The man seemed more shrewd, more patient and savvy than the usual gunman Trahern hired.

Frank had spent some time talking to Ethan when he got out of prison, about the awkward situation he found himself in. It hadn't been so bad when he worked for Trahern the first ten years, because Trahern's obsession for vengeance against Ethan-who was nowhere to be found-had come to naught.

He had felt guilty working for Trahern the seven years Ethan was in prison, even though he couldn't see how it hurt Ethan. But he hadn't quit. There was just no reason to keep on living if he could never sec Merielle again.

When Ethan had returned recently to Oakville, Frank had realized he couldn't ignore the situation any longer. But after so many years of seeing Merielle day in and day out, he was more attached to her than ever. So he had broached the subject with Ethan.

"If you don't want to be my friend anymore, I'll understand. But I can't give up Merielle. I can't."

"You don't have to," Ethan a.s.sured him. "All I ask is that you don't do anything to help Trahern nail my hide to the wall."

"You have my word," Frank said.

And he had kept it.

This latest threat from Trahern, the bounty hunter named Calloway, looked more serious than the last one. Frank made up his mind to ride over to the Double Diamond in the morning and warn Ethan what he was up against.

Inside the barn, Frank heard soft, whimpering cries coming from the loft that sounded like some animal in pain. There were traps in the barn to catch rodents, and he figured he might as well put whatever cat or possum or c.o.o.n that had fallen prey to one of those vicious traps out of its misery.

As soon as he had unsaddled his horse and forked some hay for him, he climbed the ladder, taking a lantern with him so he could see in the dark.

The noises seemed to be coming from the corner. The closer he got, the more his eyes widened in disbelief. "Merielle? Is that you?"

He hung the lantern on a hook on one of the eaves and knelt beside her in the scattered hay. She was curled into a ball in the corner, her head hidden in her hands. The woeful sounds he had heard were her m.u.f.fled sobs. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she jerked upright. She took one look at his face in the light and threw herself into his arms.

"Frank! Frank, you came!"

"I'm here, Merielle," he crooned. "I'm here."

"Father wouldn't let me come see you," she said in a choked voice. She levered herself away from his chest with her palms and said in a fierce voice, "I won't let him keep us apart, Frank. I love you. I'll always love you!"

Then she kissed him, her body pressed fervently against his, and her lips like sweet, sweet honey.

Frank kissed her back. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. He thought maybe he had drunk too much, and his mind was making up the words she was speaking, the things she was doing. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he wanted even more to look at her face, to see if her eyes were lucid, to see if what was happening was real.

"Merielle," he murmured against her lips. He took her face in his hands and held it steady in the light while he tried to find the girl he had loved in the eyes of the woman in his arms. But Frank had loved Merielle too well and too long. To him, they were one and the same. "I love you, too, Merielle," he whispered.

Her eyes were clear, and she seemed actually to hear and understand what he was saying. The joy she felt was there in her dark eyes for him to see. It was a moment from the past she was remembering, but she was remembering. How they had felt toward each other. What they had meant to each other.

Frank hoped like h.e.l.l his perceptions weren't blurred by the liquor he had drunk. Because this was the first sign he had seen in seventeen years that Merielle had any recollection of their relationship. He was afraid to ask for more, to press her for more. But he recalled Jewell saying "What have you got to lose?"

So he asked, "Merielle, where were we supposed to meet tonight, when your father wouldn't let you leave the house?"

"At the cave."

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "That's right, at the cave." Just as quickly he put her away from him again. "Do you remember why I wanted you to meet me?"

"You have a present for me," she said with a mischievous grin.

Frank found himself grinning back at her. "Yes, I do." He could hear his heart pounding. He had waited so many years for this moment. He took the ring off his little finger and slipped it onto her middle finger. "I made this for you."

He watched her touch the braided ring he had worn all these years, saw her pleasure in the gift.

Her eyes glowed with warmth and happiness. "I'll always treasure it, Frank."

Suddenly it wasn't enough to watch her relive the past. He needed her here, in the present. So he pushed a little harder. Pressed for more. "What happened, Merielle? Why didn't you come? Who-"

She was gone. As quickly as that, the girl of his childhood was gone, replaced by the childlike person, bereft of memory, who had taken the place of his beloved.

"Frank?" She looked around, obviously upset and confused by her surroundings. "How did I get here? I want to go back to the house."

Frank wanted to bellow with rage. He wanted to howl with despair. He had thought nothing could be worse than Merielle without her memory. He had been wrong. It was far worse to be teased like this. To get a taunting glimpse of the past and have it yanked away again. To think she might be getting better and see it was only an illusion.

"All right, Merielle," he said in a soothing voice. "I'll take you back to the house."

"I can't imagine how I got out here," she said as she followed him down the ladder. "The last thing I remember is saying good night to Father."

Frank wondered if she had snuck out of her room as she had in those days long ago, by shinnying down the live oak outside her window. He looked her over in the light from the lantern and saw the sc.r.a.pes on her arms and the tear in her skirt. He felt a moment of stark terror. What if she had fallen?

He debated whether to tell Trahern what she had done, but decided against it. The only way to keep Merielle from using the window for escape would be to bar it or nail it shut, and he couldn't bear to think of her locked in like that. She had climbed that tree for years. There was no reason why she should suddenly start falling.

The problem now was how to get her back into the house without letting Trahern know she had been out. He took Merielle's hand and led her from the barn. When they reached the front door, he eased it open and gave her a nudge inside. "Go on upstairs, Merielle."

"Come with me, Frank."

"Merielle, I-"

"Is that you, Merielle?" Trahern called from the parlor.

"Yes, Father. I'm going back upstairs now."

Merielle grabbed Frank's hand and drew him inside. He tried to free himself, then heard Trahern stirring in the parlor. Rather than get caught in the hall, he followed Merielle up the stairs. He felt foolish tiptoeing through the house, but the thought of seeing where Merielle slept kept him moving after her.

She pulled him into her bedroom and closed the door after him. "Come sit down, Frank."

Frank had never seen so many frills, so much lace. Everything looked so fragile, so delicate. He knew if he touched anything it would break. Including Merielle. Especially Merielle.

What was he doing here? Why had she brought him here?

Frank stared at Merielle. What was she thinking now? What did she expect of him?

"This is Emily," Merielle said, holding out a rag doll for his inspection. "She's my best friend."

"I thought I was your best friend," Frank countered.

"Oh. Well, you are. Only I can tell Emily anything."

"You used to tell me everything."

Frank knew he was being contrary, but he couldn't help it. This was an unbearable situation. He didn't belong here. He should leave, but he didn't have the strength to do it on his own. The best he could do was provoke her until she kicked him out.

Merielle's brow furrowed. "Don't you like me anymore, Frank?"

Frank realized the futility of playing games with Merielle. She couldn't keep up with the rules. He sighed. "Of course I like you."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you."

"Then why are you frowning like that?"

Frank forced himself to smile. "There. Is that better?"

She smiled back at him. "Yes." Merielle yawned hugely.

"You're tired," Frank said. "You should go to bed."

"Will you help me get out of this dress? It b.u.t.tons in back."

Merielle turned her back to him. Frank knew he ought to make her call for Maria. But he told himself he could do this without letting his desire for her get out of control. He undid the b.u.t.tons as quickly as he could. When he was done, Merielle turned, pulled the dress down over her hips, and stepped out of it.

She stood before him in her undergarments with no more modesty than a newborn babe.

"Would you get me a nightgown from the chest at the foot of the bed?" she asked.

Frank moved as though in a trance. He lifted the lid of the mahogany chest and sorted through the intimate apparel he found there until he came up with a simple chambray gown.

When he looked up again, Merielle had removed the slips and the corset and was standing before him in a thin cotton chemise and lacetrimmed pantalets. When she reached for the bow at the top of the chemise he said, "No, don't."

She looked up at him. "I don't wear anything under my gown."

"You will tonight." Frank slipped the gown over her head and pulled her arms through the sleeves. "There. Now get into bed." He reached over and folded down the counterpane, then pulled down the sheet. Merielle obediently climbed into bed. Frank tucked her in, then sat down beside her.

"Sleep well, my love." He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He started to rise but she grasped his hand.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep," she said.

Frank bit back a groan of frustration. "All right."

She turned over on her side and tucked his hand under her chin. He sat with her until the moon rose. The house was quiet. He gently freed his hand and crossed to the open window. The leaves rustled in the tree. The moss swayed in the wind. He looked at the door, then back at the window. It was safer to climb down than to take the chance of getting caught in the house.

Frank was sitting on a low branch of the tree, seven feet off the ground, when he heard Trahern speaking to someone on the front porch. He figured Calloway was leaving. The longer he listened, the more familiar he found the voice. It wasn't Calloway. It was Boyd Stuckey.

Frank strained to hear, but he couldn't make out what was being said. The two men were speaking too softly, and the rustle of the leaves made the sounds indistinct.

Frank drew his legs up out of sight as Boyd mounted his horse and rode away. He waited until he heard Trahern go back into the house before he lowered himself to the ground.

He leaned against the house with his foot braced on the wooden wall, and rolled himself a cigarette. He struck a match on his jeans and cupped his hand around the tip while he lit it. He inhaled and held the smoke down in his lungs before he breathed it out, along with the tension he felt.

Boyd had been coming to the ranch more frequently of late to speak with Trahern. Frank figured they must be doing some business together. He didn't begrudge Boyd his success, but he didn't understand it, either. Boyd had taken the small inheritance from his aunt and become almost as rich as Trahern. Frank had asked Boyd once the secret of his success.

Boyd had grinned and said, "Calculated risks."

Frank hadn't understood Boyd then. Now he did. It was like what he had done tonight with Merielle. Pushing her to remember. Following her to her room. Staying there to put her to bed. Hoping against hope that a miracle would happen.

He crushed the cigarette under his boot. He was taking his own calculated risks. Only the prize he was hoping to win wasn't wealth and riches. It was Merielle Trahern.

Ethan held a kitten in one palm and a leather work glove full of sugar water in the other. He had poked a hole in one finger of the glove and was trying to get the kitten to take suck. Tiny claws dug into his skin as the blind kitten latched on.

"It's working!" Leah cried.

Ethan grinned at her. "Looks like it."

"What's going on?" Patch tied on her ap.r.o.n as she crossed to where Ethan was sitting at the kitchen table. Leah hovered over his shoulder.

"Leah noticed the calico cat was missing last night. We looked for her, but we never found her. I figured she'd come home sometime during the night, but she never did. Leah found these babies crying up a storm this morning and asked if there was anything we could do."

Patch leaned over Ethan's shoulder. "What are you feeding them?"

"Sugar water," Ethan said. "There isn't any more milk."

"Gilley is supposed to deliver some this morning," Leah said.