Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Tara turned to John, unable to grasp what he was saying. It was astonishing, and she looked down at the locket in her hand, open to reveal two small portraits. One was unmistakably John, and the other was a man with a remarkable resemblance to him.

"But… I don't understand," she said.

Kyle gestured again with the barrel of the pistol. "Get into the stable. Both of you," he snarled, but Tara wasn't about to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

"No, I won't. Not until you tell me what's going on," she replied.

John had his hands out, shielding her from the line of sight, but she pushed forward, facing Kyle defiantly as she held out the locket.

"He's not Kyle Patrick. I am. I found the letters in his saddlebags—the letters you sent me. And I remembered. I remembered everything," John said.

Tara gasped, holding her hands to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. It was extraordinary, and for a moment, she was confused as to who was telling the truth. The pistol pointed at her told her it was John—Kyle—who was sincere.

"He's lying, Tara. I can explain what's happened. You've got an imposter there," the other Kyle said, gesturing again with the pistol.

"I… no… you're the imposter," Tara stammered.

She felt a fool, horrified at how easily she had been tricked. She had allowed this man, whoever he was, into her home. She had trusted him and had believed he was who he said he was.

"You're wrong, Tara. Trust me," the imposter hissed, but Tara shook her head.

"Ask me something, Tara. Ask me something only I could know—from the letters," John—Kyle—whispered, for the imposter only had one side of the correspondence from which to draw his deceit.

Tara's mind raced. She thought back to the letters they had exchanged, the bundle of the ones Kyle had written to her all kept safely under her bed. A thought now came to her, a detail only he could know.

"The cat… the kitten you rescued from being drowned when you were a child. What did you call it?" she asked.

"Betsy, my mother's middle name," he replied, and Tara knew he was telling the truth.

But it was the imposter who was holding the pistol, and he gestured again for them to back toward the stable.

"Slowly. Don't make any false moves," he said, and Tara and the real Kyle had no choice but to move back with their hands raised, edging through the snow until they were inside the stable, where Stanley and the other horse stood saddled and ready to leave.

"Why did you do this? Why did you trick me?" Tara demanded, for she did not understand—apart from it being some wicked game—why the imposter should have chosen to impersonate the man she had invited from Chicago to join her in Freemont.

It didn't make any sense. She had property, of course, but the income was modest, and it was hardly as though the imposter would benefit greatly from their marriage. She was standing with her back to Stanley, and the real Kyle stood in front of her, shielding her from the imposter's pistol.

He smiled and shook his head. "Don't think I won't shoot you both. Tara, you're going to tie his hands and make them secure. Then you're going to come with me," he said, gesturing toward a coil of rope hanging on the stable wall.

Tara didn't move. "I won't come with you. You're a devil," she argued, but the imposter shook his head.

"No, Tara. The devil's there, in the locket," the imposter said, and Tara looked down at the two portraits she held in her hand, not understanding what the man was saying.

"I don't understand," she said, as John—Kyle—turned to her with an imploring look on his face.

"Please, Tara… believe me," he said.

"I do," she replied. "But I still don't understand."

"Tell her you're not Kyle Patrick. Stop lying," the real Kyle said, and the imposter snarled.

"All right, I'll tell you the truth—it's the truth you know well enough, Kyle. The truth about your brother. Tell Tara what he's really like," he said. "Don't give me the story about how he died on the trail. Tell us the truth."

The real Kyle sighed, shaking his head as he glanced down at the open locket.

"My brother was a… an outlaw. He was part of a gang… he robbed banks, held up mail coaches. I was ashamed of him, if truth be told," he said, and the imposter nodded.

"That's better. Yes… Michael Patrick. A name feared across six counties, and for a while, my closest friend," the imposter said. "But five years in jail, hard labor, gives a man a lot to think about, doesn't it, Kyle? Your brother betrayed me to save his own neck, and since he's dead—and not by my hand—you're the one I turned to."

It was an extraordinary revelation, and Tara could hardly believe what she was hearing. In his letters, Kyle had spoken of the loss of his brother. The bond between the two had been obvious, but Kyle was not to blame for his brother's actions—and to think of this man, this imposter, plotting revenge against him and using her as part of his plan filled her with horror.

"And what did you intend to do with me once you'd finished with Kyle? Were you going to kill me, too?" Tara demanded.

"You were just a convenience. I knew Kyle was heading west, and that's why I followed. I left him for dead. I didn't realize he'd survive. I had to make it look as though he was someone else. Lots of people die on the trail, and without any documents or identification, no one would've known, would they? And they didn't. Until he remembered," Kyle replied.

Tara shook her head, still reeling from the extraordinary revelation. She had been a pawn in a game, and what an extraordinary coincidence it was that she had been the one to find Kyle on the trail and to nurse him back to health. But what would happen now? The imposter could not possibly allow either of them to live—not now that they knew the truth. But the question of who he was remained, even as a creeping suspicion now came over her.

"You're the outlaw, aren't you? Skeeter Layton. You're the one the bounty hunters are looking for. The one who stole the donations for the Christmas food drive," she said, and the imposter laughed.

"And I'm sure you're going to tell me I'm a wicked man who deserves whatever he gets, aren't you? Look at yourself, Tara— you had everything handed to you on a plate. Some of us have to make our own way in the world, and this is the way I chose. You can judge me for that, if you like. But I'm the one holding the pistol," he snarled. "Now, tie his hands together."

Tara had no choice but to take the coil of rope down from the wall. For a moment, she thought about throwing herself at Skeeter to disarm him, but she knew he would be too quick for her.

Taking the rope, she held it up for him to see. "What now?"

Skeeter gestured to Kyle to put his hands behind his back. "Tie his hands together, and make sure the knot's tight," he said, using the pistol to guide her forward.

Kyle turned slowly, bringing his hands to a position behind his back. As he did so, the folds of his overcoat pulled back, and Tara caught a glimpse of a pistol in the holster of his belt. She had only a moment to think, and now she made a pretence of pulling his hands back and fumbling with the rope, her hands shaking as she did so.

"I can't do the knot," she said, trying to buy herself time.

"You're a nurse, aren't you? Can't you tie a knot?" Skeeter snarled.

"My hands are shaking," Tara said, and Skeeter gave an impatient exclamation.

"Just get on with it. Pull his coat back. Do you want me to shoot you both right now?" he demanded, but it was Tara who now made her move.

Overcoming her fear, quick as a flash, she pulled the gun from Kyle's holster, spinning around and discharging it with a loud bang in Skeeter's direction. As she did so, Kyle pulled her to the ground as Skeeter's own pistol went off, filling the stable with a cloud of smoke.

Tara shot again, and this time there was a cry of pain. Skeeter was on the ground, and she suspected her bullet had gotten him somewhere. The horses, startled by the gunshots, reared up on their hind legs, and Tara screamed, fearing she would be crushed under Stanley's hooves. But Kyle had hold of her, dragging her to one side as again Skeeter fired his pistol, narrowly missing them as the bullet ricocheted around the stable.

"Get out, Tara. Run for help," Kyle cried out, and Tara thrust the gun into his hand and raced out of the stable, pushing the injured Skeeter aside and knocking the pistol from his hand.

It seemed she had hit him in the leg for he was unable to move, crying out in pain, as Kyle cocked his pistol and leveled it at the outlaw.

"You stay right there, Skeeter," he said.

At the stable door, Tara paused, turning back to Kyle, anxious he would do something rash. "Let justice be our revenge," she said, and he nodded.

"Don't worry… I'm not like my brother," he replied.

Tara nodded before dashing out of the stable and across the yard, calling for help. But as she came to the gate, she was surprised by the sight of Thomas and a posse of deputies running toward her.

"Tara, are you all right? We heard shots," Thomas called out.

"In the stable… it's Skeeter Layton… Kyle… the man I thought was Kyle. He's the one you want," she cried out, and the sheriff and his men hurried across the yard toward the stable.

Tara held back, leaning on the gate, exhausted at her ordeal. Tears rolled down her cheeks at the thought of how close she had come to disaster, and she couldn't help but feel foolish at the thought of her own naivety.

She had trusted a man who had proved himself to be nothing but a fraud, a criminal, a man hell-bent on revenge. The thought of what would have happened—of what he would have done to them—filled her with horror, and she began to sob, sinking down into the snow and weeping into her arms.

From the stable came the sounds of the sheriff and his men making their arrest, and Skeeter's anguished cries as he was hauled to his feet with Tara's bullet in his leg. Looking up, Tara saw the deputies dragging Skeeter out into the yard, shackling him in chains as Thomas looked on.

Behind them, Kyle emerged, limping on his bad leg but otherwise unscathed. He looked over at her, shaking his head with an anguished look on his face. Tara hardly dared to believe it was over. Struggling to her feet, she brushed the tears from her face, overwhelmed at the sight of him standing before her. He hobbled toward her and she went to meet him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Oh, Kyle… I can't believe… it's too horrible," she exclaimed as he held her close.

"It's all right. It's over now. It's all over," he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

"But I still don't understand what he thought would happen. Was he just going to keep pretending he was you?" Tara asked.

"I don't know. He wanted revenge for Michael, but… it seems it became more than that. He was on the run from the law, and he obviously realized he could pretend to be me and just disappear," Kyle replied. "He left me for dead on the trail, and it was only because you came along that I survived. It was a remarkable coincidence, but… it was obviously meant to be."

Tara thought back to that fateful day—to the sight of Kyle lying injured—and how her only instinct had been to help him. She had had no idea she was helping the very man she was waiting for, and to know she hadn't been mistaken in falling in love with him was a comfort, despite the horror of the circumstances.

"I was right to feel as I did," she said, and Kyle stepped back and smiled, clasping her hands in his.

"And so was I," he replied. "I know it's all come as a terrible shock, and I'm sorry about my brother, too. I can't defend Michael for what he did. He was my brother, and I loved him for that. But I didn't love the man he became."

"You're not Michael. And you're not responsible for the things he did," Tara replied.

In his letters, Kyle had eulogized his brother's death, but as with so many things, the past had revealed its secrets, and one memory was now replaced by another.

"I know… I suppose that's part of the reason I did what I did—came out here, I mean. I wanted to put all that behind me. After he died, I felt such loss," Kyle said. "Michael's death was such a waste. He had his whole life ahead of him. He could've done anything, but he chose the wrong path. I didn't want that for myself. I want my life to count for something. I remember it all now—everything. It's crystal clear."

Tara nodded, squeezing his hand. She didn't blame him for wanting a new start or for hiding his past, the memory of which had now returned. It would take time for him to come to terms with those memories, and for Tara, too, to understand the truth of his past.

But one thing was certain—this was the man whose letters had brought her so much joy, and this was the man she had invited to Freemont to share his life with her. And it was this man she had fallen in love with, thinking him to be someone entirely other. It was the strangest of feelings—the connection of one with the other. Two people, now revealed to be the same.

"And it will. It is," she whispered.

Kyle smiled. "Will you miss John Smith?" he asked, and Tara laughed.

"I'll still think fondly of John Smith. But I'm glad Kyle Patrick's made his true appearance," she replied.

At that moment, Thomas came to speak to them, and Tara looked up to see Skeeter Layton being dragged away, cursing the deputies and breathing threats against the whole town.

"What a remarkable turn," he said, shaking his head.

Tara raised her eyebrows and fixed him with a pointed look. "I think you owe Kyle an apology, Thomas, don't you?" she asked, and the sheriff smiled.

"Yes. I'm sorry I suspected you… but I wasn't entirely wrong, was I?" he said.

Kyle held out his hand to Thomas, and the two men shook as Kyle nodded.

"I understand why you thought it, Sheriff Fenton. And you're right—you weren't entirely wrong to be suspicious of a newcomer," he replied.

"He must've been mightily relieved to know you'd lost your memory. He left you for dead on the trail, and then assumed your identity. I've never known anything like it," the sheriff said.

"I'm just glad I remembered. It was the locket that did it. And reading my brother's name in the letter," Kyle said, and he explained to the sheriff—and Tara—how he had opened Skeeter's saddlebag to find his own possessions inside, triggering a flood of memories.

Thomas listened in astonishment, shaking his head as Kyle described how his brother had been involved in all manner of wrongdoing. The two brothers were like chalk and cheese, and to hear Kyle describe the truth about Michael was to hear of a world Tara knew nothing about—robberies, hold ups, extortion…

"It's no surprise he came in contact with a man like Skeeter. And these sorts of men are ruthless. If they're wronged, they won't forget about it. It's a matter of honor," Thomas said when Kyle's explanation came to an end.

"What's going to happen to Skeeter now?" Tara asked.

He had been led away in shackles, and only a couple of deputies now remained in the yard.

"I'm wary of handing him over to the bounty hunters. I want him punished for the theft of the goods for the food drive. I'm willing to bet he's got them stored somewhere," Thomas replied. "We'll question him and see if he talks. But he's wanted in a dozen jurisdictions, so don't worry—he'll get what's coming to him."

Tara was glad to hear it. She wanted to see Skeeter held responsible for what he had done, though as for what crime he had committed against her…

"Is it a felony to pretend to be someone you're not?" she asked.

Thomas scratched his head. "I don't rightly know. Unfortunately, you invited him in. You thought he was someone he wasn't. I'm not sure what the law says about that. But there're plenty of other crimes he can be held responsible for," he said. "Don't worry, Tara. He'll get his comeuppance."

At that moment, a cry from behind caused them to turn, and Tara saw Gina—followed by Randy—hurrying into the yard.

"Oh, Tara, I've been so worried. We just saw the deputies dragging Kyle away. What's happened?" she exclaimed.

The story was repeated, and Gina listened with a look of horror on her face.

"And he's the one who stole the donations for the food drive… I knew he was wrong for you, Tara," she exclaimed, and Tara smiled.

"I know you did, but not quite for the same reasons," she said, glancing at Kyle, who shook his head.

He looked exhausted, and Tara felt the same. She wanted nothing more than to retreat into the house and curl up with Maisy by the stove.

"I'd better get myself to the jailhouse and see to our new prisoner. I'm certain we'll get what we need from him. You'll have the goods for the food drive back, Gina—and just in time for Christmas Day," Thomas said.

In all the excitement, Tara had forgotten it was Christmas Eve.

"Which you'll both be sharing with us," Gina said, turning to Tara and Kyle as she spoke.

"I don't want to impose…" Kyle said, but Gina shook her head.

"You came here to marry my best friend, didn't you? Tara always shares Christmas with us. It's a tradition. Isn't it, Tara?" she said.

Tara smiled and nodded. A year ago, it was her father who had accompanied her to the Fentons' for Christmas, and what a year of change it had been since. But with the excitement over, the prospect of Gina's words about marriage had become very real.

This was the Kyle Tara had first found an attraction to through his letters, and it was as John Smith that she had fallen in love with him in Freemont. That he was the same person meant the possibility of what she had longed for, both in the letters and in John's company, could become a reality.

She glanced at him and smiled. "How about it, Kyle? Will it be a happy Christmas, after all?"

"I think it will be, yes," he replied, slipping his arm around her and drawing her into his embrace.

For a moment, they gazed into one another's eyes, and Tara—despite her exhaustion—could not have felt happier knowing he was safe, and that everything would now be all right.

"This was how it was meant to be," she said, and he smiled.

"And how glad I am to remember it," he replied.