“I’ve no doubt. But you’ve been separated from your sidearm and you’ll be dead before the sun rises. Which, by my calculation, is in about a minute’s time.”
“Hitch up this wagon,” Dredd instructed; I sensed he was stalling. “Go on now!”
Someone scurried to follow his orders.
“Take your shot, son, it’s your chance.”
Dredd must have hesitated further.
His tone drenched in ridicule and derision, Thomas brayed, “You worthless coward.”
“I am no coward.” Dredd spoke with more conviction than I had believed him capable. “You are the coward, Father. A man was sent last summer to murder my wife in her train car, on your orders, do you deny this?”
Thomas either made no reply or spoke too quietly for my ears to perceive.
The moment balanced on the edge of a blade, precipitous, the slightest action poised to tip the scale toward certain catastrophe.
You were foolish enough to believe escape was possible, Patricia.
It was never possible.
I would never be certain exactly what happened next; my imagination would later recreate the scene a hundred, a thousand times, each remembrance slightly different than the one before, constructed from an incomplete memory of the moment. Eyes closed, the world smeared gray-red with agony, I pictured the anger as it bloated within Dredd, stronger than the gusting wind, an ancient rage at last allowed release. A third gunshot, followed quickly by a fourth. By the time Monty’s cries subsided, the wagon was bumping at a brisk pace over the rutted prairie trail, hauling me and my son away.
Chapter Nine
Jalesville, MT - March, 2014
“A GIRL,” CASE MURMURED, HIS LIPS BRUSHING MY TEMPLE.
I snuggled closer to his delicious warmth, content but exhausted; dawn was threatening our window shade and we hadn’t slept more than an hour. His strong arms held my midsection secure, both of us naked; the bedding beneath our legs was rumpled and Case spread it out with a few dexterous movements of his ankle before I twined my calves around his knee and held fast, burying my nose against his chest.
Mathias had ridden to town with Case last night after I’d requested a pregnancy test from the drugstore; I’d remained on the couch, wrapped in the afghan, stationed beside Camille while she nursed James, stroking his round peach of a cheek. I’d watched in a transfixed stupor, attempting to fathom that soon I would be the one cradling an infant to my breasts.
“I hope it’s twins,” Camille had joked, stretching a hand to pat my stomach. She added, with glee, “Twin boys!”
“Oh, Jesus,” I’d muttered, shying away from her teasing touch. “We need a bigger house.”
Sunlight cleared the horizon now, hours later, and painted the cramped interior of our bedroom with a warm, dusty gold. Mathias, Camille, and the baby had returned to Clark’s, where there was ample sleeping space; Case and I had promised to venture there for breakfast. Thinking of my sister’s words about twin boys – if I remembered correctly, Brantley and Henry had experienced terrible colic for the first three months of their infancies – I infused my voice with certainty and whispered, “Yes. A sweet baby girl.”
I had been operating for many weeks now with a sense of trepidation at the thought of future events, the notion that if I anticipated too far ahead it was not only futile but dangerous. Next week could bring devastating news, let alone a time two seasons from now. What if Ruthie and Marshall weren’t home by next autumn?
What if…
Case spoke with determination, warding off my despairing thoughts. He kissed the top of my head before murmuring, “Everyone will be so excited, sweetheart, think of that.” Camille and Mathias had promised not to divulge the news, at least until I had a chance to call Mom, Aunt Jilly, and Grandma and Aunt Ellen. “And you can spend all summer eating for two.”
I made a sound somewhere between a snort and a giggle. “Right now that sounds terrible. No wonder I haven’t felt hungry.”
The best I could figure was that I was roughly eight weeks along; my last period had occurred in January, which gave us a tentative due date of mid-October. Case and I had been in Chicago for Robbie’s funeral at the end of February and I vaguely recalled thinking that I was overdue; in the ensuing stress, I’d missed what should have been obvious.
“Do you remember last summer after we made love for the first time, with no protection?” Case’s voice was a low, tender rumble. His hands were warm on my bare skin as he caressed my shoulder blades, then swept his touch downward to massage my lower back. I shivered in blissful response, tucking closer.
“Of course I do,” I whispered, gliding my hands to capture his ass, smoothing my palms over the sensual familiarity of my husband’s body.
“I told you that our baby would come to us when she was ready, remember? And now is that time, my sweet love, for our baby.” His voice thickened with emotion and his arms tightened around my torso, hugging me closer. “I’m so happy, sweetheart. You don’t know how much I’ve longed for our family. No matter where we go from here, even if we lose our land, we’ll have each other. Nothing means more to me than that in the entire world, Tish.”
“I know, honey. I’m so happy, too.” Tears seeped from my eyes and wet his skin. “I am, I promise. Even if…” I choked back the words, biting savagely upon my lower lip, restraining sobs.
“We have to believe that they’re happy out there, wherever they are.” Case knew what I needed to hear. And to a great extent, I recognized he was not just speaking words to comfort me; he also believed what he said. “Even if they never return to us, they’re together. Ruthie is the one person Marsh refuses to live without and she would say the same of him, I’m certain.”
You’re right, I tried to say, but I could do nothing but cry, muffling the sounds against
