31. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

J unior stood in the empty stall long after Sol had chased after a galloping Isa in wordless disgust. When the sun threatened to sink below the horizon, he got on Champion bareback—no saddle, no bit—and led the gelding with only a bridle and lead rope to his brother's house. He didn't bother locking up his house; he never wanted to step foot inside that house ever again unless Isa was with him. It was no home without her. It was void of warmth. Empty.

The sky had darkened. The north star winked beside the sliver of moon above. Junior didn't notice. He stared blindly ahead and revisited Sol's words repeatedly in his mind.

"You were my friend," and "womanizing murderer," and "get on your horse before I kill him."

If Junior could scrub his ears out and never hear them again, he would.

Did you know he murdered men in his own company?

At the time, he'd been too stricken with grief to defend himself. Now that he was sound of mind, he wanted to know just who the hell had told Sol. Junior doubted it had been his father. Guilt and shame wrangled with self-preservation. He needed to talk to someone with a clearer head than him, and the person he knew with the soundest mind was his brother.

Lucy opened the kitchen door when Junior knocked, and her eyes sharpened.

"Junior. What happened?"

"Is Ben home?" He hated how childish it sounded.

Opening the door wide to the warm, fragrant kitchen, Lucy said, "Of course, come in. Get yourself a cup of coffee while I get him."

Junior followed orders mechanically while Lucy scurried off to the barn for Ben, who was probably doing the evening milking. He poured rich, black coffee into a mug, splashed sugar and cream into the swirling liquid, and sat at the rough work table. The mug was still full when Ben stomped his boots off at the door and stepped inside. His older brother may be shorter by a few inches than he, but Ben made up for the disadvantage with an enormous presence and shoulders as broad as a barge. His blue Stone eyes homed in on the bruises darkening Junior's chin and cheekbone.

Something in the younger man's expression stymied any questions, so Ben eased the kitchen door shut behind him and made use of the coffee kettle on the stove. Lucy and the boys were conspicuously absent. By the time Ben sat in his usual place at one end of the table, Junior had organized his thoughts into some semblance of order.

When Ben took a sip of his black coffee, Junior found the strength to speak. "I messed up."

The black-haired man set the mug down and steepled his fingers on the table. "Can it be fixed?"

"I don't know." Junior felt his breath leave his lungs in a trembling exhalation and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his closed lids. "God, I don't think so. Everything's been going to hell for so long."

"I wish you'd tell me about it. All of it, instead of just skirting around what's goin' on." There was no accusation in Ben's voice, but the words nonetheless made Junior's heart race.

"It's not just one thing; it's endless things. Problem after problem after problem." Junior laughed hollowly and dropped his hand to the table. The coffee trembled in his mug, reminding him to take a sip. It settled like ashes in his mouth, and he set it back down, sick to his stomach.

Ben, however, had no issue with his own coffee. He'd already finished his first cup and stood to get a refill. "How 'bout we start with the problem that put those bruises on your face?"

It was easier to talk now that Ben's eagle eyes weren't staring into his forehead. Junior braced himself and said, "Isa and I—you were right. We got close after the trip from Austin."

From the corner of his eye, Junior saw Ben's shoulders go very still.

"How close?"

"Close enough that when Sol came by the house earlier, he tried his damnedest to see what my brains felt like with his fist."

"Guessin' by those bruises, you didn't hit back."

"Naw, I deserved the licks." Junior scrubbed his tender cheekbone and groaned into his hands. "I was gonna tell him. Izzy and I had planned to do it together."

"But he caught you first." For the first time, there was censure in Ben's voice. His back remained facing the room, and the sounds of liquid pouring and clinking metal against ceramic filled the room. "You shouldn't have gone behind his back like that. Sol's good as family. Better than family, in fact. He'd die for you."

"I know, Ben, you don't have to tell me. I know ."

"What're you gonna do to fix it?" Ben turned around, mug tiny in his hand. Under the firm stare was a wealth of understanding. "We've all been tempted by the women we love. Even Sol. Hell, even me. And for all your faults, you never chased after innocents. Never accepted any offers from 'em, either."

"Just widows and whores," Junior murmured, looking at the rag rug on the floor. "Older women who didn't want ties to a man. None that wanted marriage."

"It's looking like marriage now, brother."

Junior had often thought that Ben had filled the role of father better than brother, and this was proving correct now. Firm and direct is what he gave Junior. No shouting, no berating. Just honesty. It settled something frantic in Junior's chest, something that had been clanging like an off-key note. Soothed it.

"I told her last night it looked like marriage. She never wanted it, you know. And I was more than happy to oblige her."

"I'll bet." Ben hid the smile, quirking his full lips behind his mug.

"But it changed. The sneaking around. I wanted her more and more. And she'd come without a single complaint, even though she was riding three hours each way to and from Dogwood. I worried about her so much, I'd ride to Dogwood and back with her. Haven't gotten a lick of work done all week. When she'd get to the house, it would feel like home. I don't want to let her go." Junior laughed awkwardly. "Listen to me. I sound like one of those sissy poems the teachers made us read at school."

Ben wasn't smiling anymore. His straight brows lowered. "You sound like you love her."

"I love her so much I'm about to throw away a twenty-year friendship over it." Junior turned his mug a full rotation, then another. "Sol said he won't let me marry her. Said I'm not good enough for her. He's right."

"Sol's right about a lot of things, but not about this." Ben straightened from his lean against the counter.

"Yes. He is. And I'll tell you why." Junior looked miserably up at his brother. "You might want to sit down."

Without hesitation, Ben sat. It was black as tar outside, reflecting the two brothers, as Junior told Ben everything. They faced one another, one man stiff with worry, the other beaten. Junior spoke of Captain Havelard's letter, the investigation of the terrorized Mexican-Americans, and Bill Talbot swinging from a tree at dawn. Even the court-martial, which had been kept relatively quiet, was a distasteful case no politician wanted to rouse the public with.

"That's why my next of kin wasn't notified. And…because I asked Captain Havelard not to send letters to you or Father. He was good to me. Disappointed, hurt, angry, but good to me. Wouldn't even take back the .45 he gave me." Throat dry, Junior took a sip of cold coffee. An hour had gone by, and he glanced at the back door. "Where are Lucy and the boys?"

"I asked them to go to Tia and Frank's." There was something in Ben's eyes, but Junior couldn't decipher it. It was different from the discontent that had etched premature lines in Havelard's face.

Fear of condemnation made the sick feeling return in Junior's stomach. "I'm sorry, Ben. Everything I do, I mess up. Even love. I finally fall, and I'm the wrong man for her." The words didn't feel right in his mouth, and he wanted to take them back as soon as he said it. Ben beat him to it.

"That ain't true. I've never met two people more suited to each other. It's just the way you went about it."

Junior swallowed some obstruction in his throat. "I reckon you're right." His nostrils flared. "I've got to tell you something else. The man who's after me? I think he finally caught up. That's why Sol came by. He said he was warning me."

"I thought you were acquitted?" An edge of fear sharpened his brother's voice.

"I was. This is Bill Talbot's brother. Randal was my friend, one I'd saved. Guess that don't matter much if you hang his brother right after."

"He gonna try to kill you?"

"I don't know."

They sat in charged silence for a time until Ben leaned forward, arms on the table between them. "I've got a plan."

JUNIOR RODE HOME the next day with clear instructions to grab enough belongings for a lengthy stay at Ben's. Christmas was two weeks away, and Ben said seeing his little brother's face for the holidays would be good. Junior suspected it was because Ben thought he'd flee.

But he was tired of running. Tired of hiding out, tired of the lies. The cat was out of the bag; Randal was hot on his trail, telling anyone who'd listen about Junior's inexpiable crime. The whole state probably knew what happened in '91.

A flock of red and brown cardinals took flight when Junior rode across his front yard, and he narrowed his eyes on the empty house. The weather vane squeaked, lazily pointing south. Neck hairs prickling, Junior brought Champion around to the back of the house and hitched him away from any windows. He pulled his gun, heartbeat swift, and sidled along the siding to the back door. It was unlocked.

Had he locked it last night?

No, he'd left as soon as Isa and Sol had ridden off.

Cocking the hammer back on his revolver, Junior carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open wide. There were no shouts. No gunfire. Still, he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling, the same sensation that clung to him just before he'd been ambushed. Or the time he was hunting and caught sight of a mountain lion in a tree above him.

"You can come in. I'm not gonna shoot you, Stone."

The voice sent chills through Junior's bones; he hadn't heard it in years. It came from the direction of the kitchen.

Randal Talbot had found him at last.