to remember that night. Soon, the truth would be buried with Hamilton. It was over.
There was no reason to suspect him, Joshua hoped, despite the feud between him and the Hamilton family. Ham had plenty of enemies and the deputy had no evidence.
“C’mon,” he commanded his littlest brother, who was in truth a half inch taller than Joshua. “Stop slathering over a pretty girl and put your mind on business.”
“What business?” Jordan gave his girl a shrug, as if to say, Who knows what my brother is angry at now? The boy gave her a salute while Joshua pulled him away by the collar.
“It’s time you learned some family responsibility. When we get home, you and I have tracking to do. Now get the horses and sleigh before I cuff your ears, boy.”
“Right away, your majesty.” Jordan gave a regal bow before he slouched away in his loose-limbed, carefree manner.
Someone should have swatted that boy on the bottom more when he was young. Joshua pretended it bothered him to no end and he barked out orders for Jordan to hurry up. If the storm got any worse, they’d have a hell of a time getting home, much less getting to work and to the herd needing his protection.
But the livestock weren’t the only ones needing him.
Was Claire Hamilton all right? Worry clutched his chest and he glanced over his shoulder. Granny was holding a flask to Claire’s lips and speaking to her softly. A swallow of Irish whiskey wasn’t likely to cure anything, but she obeyed, choking and gasping. Granny knelt to gather the widow’s hands in her own, speaking low and soft to her.
Maybe Granny could look after her.
It was a bracing thought. He felt Logan’s gaze boring into his back. The lawman was staring hard. Did he think he would be able to see Joshua’s secrets if he looked long enough? Troubled that the deputy continued to observe him, he forced a slow breath through his teeth and kept moving easy and slow.
I’ve got to act like nothing happened. I came to pay my respects, and now I’m dragging my lazy brother home. Like he always did. Surely that was all the lawman would be able to see. Instead of Joshua’s guilt.
“What’s your hurry?” Jordan grumbled as Joshua gave him a shove in the direction of the tethered horses. “I had Felicity Potter taking a sparkin’ to me. Do you know how long I’ve had to work for that?”
“You? Work?” That was a laugh. Joshua forced his attention ahead, instead of behind him. “Get the horses ready and don’t complain to me about work.”
“Golly, what’s put you in a bad mood?” He went about his work, sloppy as usual.
The boy was gonna have to grow up sometime. Shaking his head, Joshua swept the snow from the sleigh cover. He didn’t mind giving up a life of marriage and restriction for the responsibility of taking over after their father’s shocking death.
He’d done what he had to do, making sure the land and animals were managed and the family provided for and protected. But it was more than a one-man job these days.
He sensed the presence behind him a heartbeat before he heard the faint ring of spurs and the pad of a footfall.
“Joshua Gable.” The words carried on the lethal wind, cold and dark. “You’re a dead man.”
His blood iced at the sight of Reed Hamilton, a dark presence more shadow than substance in the thick haze of snowfall. He held loaded revolvers in each hand aimed, dead center, at Joshua’s heart.
Joshua didn’t hesitate. He drew.
Chapter Two
Claire Hamilton couldn’t make the nausea go away, nor the way her head kept feeling as if it were swinging to the right and then the left, like a tree branch caught in the clutches of a spring tornado. Not even the burning nastiness of Mrs. Adelaide Gable’s whiskey could clear her head.
Of course, if she’d known it was liquor, she never would have taken a swig. She’d thought the elderly widow had handed her water.
“Your color is coming back some, my dear.”
Mrs. Gable gave a grandmotherly pat on the side of her face, which was more of a slap. Claire’s eyes watered.
The elderly lady grinned. “That’s more like it. It’s always good to have a bit of fight in you. Now stand up. I’ve got you.”
Mrs. Gable’s gruff kindness heartened her. She was in agony from being around so many people. From having to accept condolences that did not come across as sincere. How could they? She’d done her best, but surely her bruises could only be so well disguised.
Anybody who’d met Ham didn’t particularly like him. Decent folk, anyway.
She was grateful for the older woman’s help. Her quiet assessment was knowing, though she couldn’t guess that it wasn’t grief that troubled her, but a miscarriage. Mrs. Gable’s grip was surprisingly strong for a woman of her advanced years, but then Adelaide Gable was no typical lady. Everyone knew that. She’d raised her sons after the death of her husband and had the respect of nearly everyone in the county. Her bright green eyes had seen a lot in her life and she seemed omniscient.
“Here’s the doc, in case you’d rather stay clear of him.” Mrs. Gable’s rough whisper was loud enough to carry over to Ham’s mother.
It was a fine thing that her mother-in-law was preoccupied by her own grief and distracted by her own circle of comforters. She was quieter now, after having tried to hurt Joshua. The doctor had come. He was on the far side of the crowd surrounding Opal and she could not see him directly, but he was essentially only a few steps away.
She was supposed to be resting, and surely that would be the first thing out of the doctor’s mouth, well-meaning and all. He could easily come to her and ask how she was feeling. What if he mentioned the miscarriage?
The sorrow was blacker than any she’d known, and while she was not grieving her husband, she was mourning her baby. She felt as if some vital part of her had been cut out and she was empty as a forgotten cup gathering dust.
No, she could not take the doctor’s kindness. Memories of his face swam before her eyes, how concerned he’d been. How his was the only kindness she’d known aside from Joshua’s that night, and she could not open her heart. It was too raw, and if Opal overheard, then think of the outcry she would make.
Claire knew the only way she would be all right was if she didn’t dwell on her loss.
It was better to keep her real grief to herself. And that gave her the strength to pick up her right foot, despite the sharp pain in her lower stomach.
It’s only from emotional upset and being up too long, she told herself but feared it was worse. She resisted the urge to lay her hand on her stomach, as if minimizing the movement of her torso would bring less pain.
But such a movement would surely be noticed by one of Ham’s brothers. Rick was watching her beneath the brim of his stained hat, his black eyes as inhuman as a rat’s. Just like her husband’s eyes had been.
It’s
