A Place Called Harmony (26 page)

Suddenly Solomon raged like a charging bull toward his youngest son.

Stepping to the side just before impact, Patrick watched his father slam against two of the studs, cracking both.

Solomon turned again, grabbing a board and swinging as he charged. “Even when you fight and beg for mercy, I’ll crush you as I should have when you were born. I knew you were rotten just like all the others.”

Patrick dodged him the second time. “I don’t want to fight you,” he yelled. “Unlike you, I don’t want you dead. I just want you gone. I want to live my life. I have that right. So go away, old man, and peddle your poison somewhere else.”

“No! It is my right and duty to kill you. I swear I will.” He swung the board, but he was no match for youth. The years and lack of work had slowed Solomon down. Blow after blow swung wild, missing the mark.

In a scream of frustration, Solomon finally stopped trying to hit Patrick, but his eyes flashed with hate. “I’ve brought others who will do this dirty job for me. They will beat you slowly and painfully to death if I tell them to. I want to watch you suffer and beg for mercy. If I tell them to stand strong against the devil, the fools will offer you no mercy. I’ll see you dead before the sun rises. They will have your blood on their hands.”

Patrick shook his head, surprised he hadn’t seen the insanity in his father’s eyes before now. It was there. Maybe it always had been.

Solomon stood in the center of the framed house and lifted his hand as if finishing a sermon. “Even if you survive tonight, you won’t be safe anywhere. They’ll hunt you down for what you’ve done to me.” He huffed a few breaths and continued, “I wanted them to shoot you today when we found you working. One shot would have done the job, but they thought I should talk to you first, give you a chance to repent. But I say there will be no redemption for you.” The hand that had always jabbed at heaven dropped against the stout man’s side, and his shoulders rounded.

“I’ve heard enough.” Patrick couldn’t stand to see the man inside his father crumbling into pure monster. “I’m leaving, and I promise you one thing. I’ll not spend the rest of my life waiting for that bullet.”

Turning to walk away, Patrick realized he didn’t even hate his father. He almost felt sorry for the old man. If he’d had any followers, they’d have been with him now.

Patrick took a deep cleansing breath as he stepped out of the frame and his past fears. Before the air could leave his lungs, he felt the barrel of a gun poke into his back.

Closing his eyes to the night, Patrick let Solomon’s words echo in his ears. “I’ll kill you myself and blame it on one of my men. The lazy bastards should have been here by now. They’ll pay for their sins as well.”

Pure instinct kicked in. With a flash of movement like Truman had shown him, Patrick stepped sideways, swinging his hand down on his father’s arm. The gun flew through the air, twirling like a falling star into the pool of muddy water.

Patrick didn’t look back. He wanted no more memories of his father. He simply stepped off the planks that served as a walkway to the front door and crushed the gun deep into the mud. Then, with his father still preaching, he walked away.

If others came after him, he’d deal with them, but he’d not give his father one more thought in this lifetime. As he swung onto his horse, his mind filled with Annie and the need to get back to her.

He needed to apologize for lying to her and beg her to forgive him. Then he’d swear he would never lie to her again and hope that she’d believe him. What if she left? She might even go back home to her terrible stepmother.

He had a feeling he could have broken every silly rule they’d made up those first few weeks, but not this one. This one rule she’d made him swear to keep. Telling her he’d lied to protect her might not help. He’d have to make her believe.

For a moment he thought of not mentioning the lie. No one would know. Tomorrow would just be another day. No one saw him leave. No one heard his father’s ranting. No one knew they’d talked.

Except me
, Patrick thought. If he didn’t tell Annie somehow, that would be another lie. They were just getting started. Two lies were too many. Even at the risk of losing her, he had to be honest. He loved her too much.

He wanted there to be nothing unsaid between them. He wanted to always look her straight in the eyes. He wanted to tell her how someday he’d be the best father in the world because he knew exactly what not to do.

*   *   *

From the shadows Clint watched McAllen ride away. He didn’t cross back to the rough ruts of a road where Clint stood with the three men. Patrick rode out across the open land, a free man for the first time in his life, Clint guessed.

Lowering his Colt, he turned to his prisoners. “Don’t ever come back—”

The brave one found his voice again. “We won’t, and neither will he.” He looked over at the frame where Solomon was now walking around the lantern preaching to an absent congregation. “What he told us about his son wasn’t true. Solomon isn’t the man we thought he was.”

“Most men aren’t,” Clint answered, then turned to see the outline of Patrick almost home. “But now and then one turns out to be more than you thought.”

The three nodded at one another, and then the leader said almost in a whisper, “We won’t be back this far north again, and neither will Solomon. He would have never found this place without us, and his health isn’t good enough for him to make the journey alone. Tell McAllen to live in peace.”

Clint grinned. “I think he’s already planning to do that.”

He holstered his gun and watched as the men disappeared into the night. After a while, Solomon ran out of steam and also walked away, talking to himself.

For a moment, Clint just stood watching the single lantern burn in his home. No one would ever know what had happened here tonight, probably. He’d never tell Patrick that he’d stopped the others, and he doubted Patrick would mention the talk he’d had with Solomon.

A shadow moved from the other side of the stack of lumber.

Clint straightened, ready for any danger that still lingered.

Only, the shadow wasn’t coming toward him. He moved, long and lean, into the house. A rifle rested in one hand as he reached for the lantern.

Clint watched in surprise as Shelly blew out the light, turning the night into silent peace. Apparently, Patrick had had two guardian angels tonight and he hadn’t even needed them.

Long after midnight Clint pulled the saddle off his horse and walked toward the trading post. He needed sleep, but his mind couldn’t shake the way Patrick had remained so calm when he knew his father had come to kill him. Maybe he was just tired of worrying about death.

Patrick may have gone to face his father and talk, but Shelly had brought a rifle. He’d been prepared to kill to protect his brother. So had Clint. Maybe he and Shelly were more alike than Clint thought they were.

He wasn’t surprised to find Captain Matheson sitting on the porch in the dark.

“Evening,” the captain said as if it weren’t the middle of the night and they both didn’t know where he’d been. “McAllen made it back an hour ago.”

“Good.”

“Any problem?”

“Nope.” Clint walked past him.

Matheson stood. “Then I guess we can sleep easy tonight.”

“Yep.”

Clint was halfway up the stairs when he heard Matheson mutter, “Nice talking to you, Truman.”

Smiling, Clint continued climbing. The captain had been as worried about McAllen as he’d been.

Clint slipped into his room and took in the sight of Karrisa snuggled in bed. She always slept curled up in a ball as if afraid of the night. He realized that he hadn’t heard her crying in her sleep lately. Maybe the nightmares were fading.

The urge to slide in beside her tempted him, but he’d wait to be invited. She might like the kissing and touching, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome more.

Pulling off his gun belt and boots, he spread out on the pallet by the window and closed his eyes. He’d missed holding her tonight, but maybe he’d have a night or two before he had to leave. For some reason he wanted to store up memories to hold him over on the long trip to Dallas. A few more nights, a few more touches would never be enough.

He was almost asleep when he heard the bed creak and guessed she must have rolled over. He swore she checked on the baby in her sleep every hour.

One of the floorboards made a slight popping sound, but he didn’t move. They were both safe, locked in their little room.

As light as a breeze, she moved in beside him on the pallet and placed her cheek on his shoulder. She hadn’t made a sound, but her body molded against his as though she’d rolled beside him a thousand times before.

After a few minutes, he raised his arm and pulled covers over her. She settled against his chest.

He was wide awake and guessed he would be the rest of the night if he didn’t figure out why she’d come to him. “Karrisa, dear, what are you doing?”

She wiggled as if irritated he’d woken her. “Sleeping,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in bed?”

“No.” She pushed on his chest as if he were a pillow she could fluff.

“Why?” he tried again, thinking that he’d be in his grave, lying there under a pine lid, still trying to figure out this woman.

“Because you’re not there.”

Some people need fancy speeches or romantic words to move them, but all Clint needed was an invitation, and this was probably as much of one as he’d ever get from his quiet wife.

He lifted her away from him, stood, then picked her up and carried her to bed. As he lay down beside her, he whispered, “This night is half over, but I plan to sleep in this bed right next to you until dawn. If you have any objections, dear, you’d better voice them now.”

She put her head over his heart and made a sleepy little sound of contentment. Within a few breaths her body had melted against his and he knew she was asleep.

Lying there thinking of all the things he’d like to do now that he’d finally made it to her bed kept him awake until almost dawn, but in the end he did nothing beyond holding her because no matter how grand the fantasies he planned, he was already in heaven and maybe that was enough for tonight.

As he sat in the field behind the barn, Patrick watched dawn’s glow spread across the land. He smiled, almost thinking he could see the outline of Harmony reflecting in the sparkles of light. He hadn’t even bothered to try to sleep after he’d left Solomon talking to himself. He’d checked on Annie asleep in the barn loft, then slipped out the back. All night he’d walked through the days of his childhood and now it was time to put them aside. He had a wife, a new life.

As morning turned golden, he stood. Annie was probably already making breakfast over at the trading post and wondering why he hadn’t been beside her when she woke. Usually she woke happy and in a hurry to start the day, but the past few mornings she hadn’t felt well and he worried about her. This living in the barn didn’t seem to be agreeing with her. Like the others, Annie needed to be in her own home. A woman needs her nest, his mother used to say, but a man only needs his woman. He decided that was true.

Anxious to start the day, he walked over to the trading post and noticed a few extra wagons tied up to the hitching posts. They must have come in very early. Soldiers, he’d guessed, for they often traveled both night and day thanks to extra drivers.

He bumped into Truman as he stepped onto the porch. “Morning.” Patrick didn’t miss Truman’s frown. The man must have had it tattooed on at some point.

“What’s good about it?” Truman asked in his typical grumpy mood. “Army wagons are here and Matheson thinks we should hitch up the freight wagons and head out with them. I thought I’d be here to help another couple of days, but it doesn’t look like it. The Romas, Harry Woolsey, and I may be on the road in an hour.”

“Don’t forget your prisoner. He might not talk, but I hear him snoring below us.” Patrick tried to look on the bright side. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be back.”

Truman looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “When I get back, will you have my house finished?”

Patrick smiled and used one of Truman’s favorite words. “Hell, we’ll probably have the whole town built. You’re going to miss it if you don’t get back quick.”

That finally brought a smile to the hard man. “Good.” He pointed with his head toward the kitchen. “Four soldiers mustering out of the army were riding along on the wagons heading toward Dallas. Matheson just talked them into staying around here for a few months, so looks like you got your first real crew.”

Patrick jumped with excitement and started moving toward the kitchen. “Are they any good?”

Truman laughed. “Hell if I know. They’re bound to be better than me.”

Patrick didn’t take the time to argue. He rushed to the kitchen to meet his new crew. Daisy and Karrisa were filling plates as fast as they could as a dozen soldiers stood around waiting. The Roma boys had set up barrels and boards to make a long table on the porch for all the extras. Momma Roma, holding Truman’s baby, sat between Harry Woolsey and Ely. They already had their plates but she was too busy talking to little Danny in Italian to eat.

“Where’s Annie?” Patrick asked no one in particular.

“She’s out back,” Daisy said as she passed. “Sick again.”

Patrick fought his way through the mob and found Annie out back sitting on a tree stump. She looked so small and young. She might be a year older than him, but with her hair in long braids, she could have been sixteen.

He walked up slowly, noticing she was crying. When her brown eyes focused on him he saw fear and uncertainty for the first time in his brave little Annie. She’d been the one from the first who believed in this crazy plan, and now something was very wrong.

The fear that she’d learned of his lie and knew that he’d gone to meet his father last night tightened Patrick’s heart. He loved her so much he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she walked away from him.

“Annie?” he whispered, knowing he’d have to face her and make everything all right if she knew. And if she didn’t know about the meeting, maybe now wasn’t the best time to tell her. Something terrible must have happened, for his Annie never cried.

“Annie, you all right?” If she was ill, or dying, the joy would go out of his life. He’d taken her away from all she knew, and now she was sick. This had to be his fault.

“I’m fine,” she said, but didn’t look at him.

He lowered to one knee beside her and brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. “Talk to me, Annie. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I love you,” she whispered. “I really do.”

“I know, honey. I love you, too.” He thought of how easily loving had come to him, and to her, he guessed. “It’s just me and you against the world, and as long as I got you, I’ve got all I need.” Her face looked so pale and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this.

She leaned into him as if too weak to hold her head up. “Could you carry me back to the barn? I don’t feel so good.”

He lifted her in his arms, wishing he could take whatever she had from her. He was the strongest. He could fight off what was making her sick.

When they made it to the silence of the barn, he helped her up the ladder and spread blankets over her. Fear had burrowed in his heart and seemed to be settling in. Worry over his father was nothing compared to what he felt now.

“What is it, Annie? Tell me where it hurts and I’ll make it go away.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want it to go away, Patrick.”

He decided she was delirious. “Of course you do.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Then give it to me. I’ll be the sick one.”

She laughed and rolled over to her side. “That would be funny, Patrick. A man having a baby.”

It took him a few seconds for her words to swing back across his brain, and then realization hit him between the eyes. “You’re going to have a baby?”

“Daisy says I won’t know for sure until I miss another time of the month, but it seems I have all the signs.”

Patrick fell back on the hay beside her.

“We’re going to have a baby. That’s impossible. It takes a lot longer than a few months.”

“It is possible. Haven’t you noticed what we do under the covers? You put a baby in me.”

“Me?” Patrick tried to get his brain to stop spinning inside his skull. “I think we both had equal parts.”

She laughed. “I’m hoping he has my brains and your looks. Don’t worry, we’ll have months to get used to the idea, Papa.”

Patrick jumped up and ran down the ladder and out the back of the barn. He barely made it to the grass beside the corral before he threw up.

Truman, ten feet away harnessing horses, stopped and watched him. When Patrick finally stood and wiped his mouth, Truman said, “You sick?”

“Nope,” Patrick answered. “I’m with child.”