The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(134)

Now she wished she hadn’t walked in. But Quillan tugged her down to sit beside him on the couch, arm still around her waist. His strength seemed improved already. Even if the others had bullied, their intentions had been good. And Tony had stayed to talk with Quillan. Carina’s heart warmed. Surely he would see their efforts and want to stay.

Tony crossed his wrists over one knee. “So how in the world did you break her?”

Quillan’s arm tightened. “Oh, no trouble there. She prefers rogue pirates to natty scoundrels.”

“He saved me from an unsavory cad.”

“Tell me.”

Sitting beside him, Carina learned more about Quillan’s dealings with Mr. Beck than she had known. She interjected some details Quillan had not heard, as well. Together, their story amazed Tony, whose admiration for Quillan was evident.

“I knew you hadn’t married him to spite Flavio.”

Carina thought back to those tumultuous days in Crystal, Berkley Beck’s advances, and Quillan’s insults. She could hardly believe herself that things had happened as they had. Quillan must have sensed her thoughts, for his hand on her side spread protectively.

She settled against him, smiling at Tony. “So you see why all of you and Papa could not keep us apart.”

“I saw that from the start.” Tony spread his hands. “But there was Flavio.”

“That’s settled now.” Quillan’s voice was even.

“A man of war and a man of peace.” Tony turned to her. “You’ve chosen well, baby sister.”

That, she knew already.





Quillan’s leg shook as he lowered the pail to the floor, this time controlling its descent. He grunted his relief of the burning in his thigh.

Vittorio nodded. “Buono.” He slipped the pail handle off Quillan’s ankle. “Now stand.”

With one hand on Vittorio’s shoulder, Quillan pulled himself up.

The leg was holding better each time he tried, though not without support. So much damage took time. But he was determined. Just as his arms were gaining muscle and dexterity—he’d walloped the breath from Angelo that afternoon—so the leg would get strong again, as well.

“And step.”

Such a little thing, to lift and place the foot. Yet he had to focus like a baby toddling its first awkward steps. Carina came in, arms crossed over a packet held to her chest. Her eyes shone with encouragement. Quillan stepped.

“All right.” Vittorio eased him back down on the couch. “More tomorrow.” “Naturally.”

“Missing even one day would set you back.”

Quillan had grown accustomed to Vittorio’s dry manner. Where Angelo was fiery and blusterous, Lorenzo smoldered, and Joseph jeered, Vittorio was quiet and reserved. Of them all, he preferred Tony’s quick laugh and earnest bearing. But in some ways he seemed to have earned their respect, even Vittorio, who like Papa DiGratia, showed little emotion beyond a warming of the eyes and occasional smile.

Vittorio put on his vest and turned to his sister. “He’s all yours.”

She turned with a warm smile. “I know.”

Quillan’s heart jumped. As soon as Vittorio was past the threshold, Quillan held out his arms.

She came to him, bent, and kissed his neck. “You stand so well now!”

“You don’t do so bad yourself.” He pulled her down beside him. “What’s this?”

She held out the thick envelope. “It came for you.”

He took it and read: “ ‘Quillan Shepard, care of Angelo DiGratia.’ ” No return address, but it had been stamped in Denver. Did all the world know he was in the doctor’s care? He frowned.

“Well, open it, Quillan! I’m dying of curiosity.”

Quillan turned it over and studied it, musing. “I’d like to see it in private, if you don’t mind.”

Her mouth dropped open in just the pout he’d expected. “In private? We have no secrets. I read you every one of my letters, even—”

“Alex’s?” He chucked her chin, and she thumped him in the chest.

“Yes, even Alex’s.”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, I’m not sure your emotional nature can withstand this, my dear.”

“Oh!” She swiped for the letter, but he jerked it out of her reach. She threw her hands into her lap. “You are a rogue to tease when you know I—”

His mouth crooked up. “You what, Carina?”

“Open the letter, or I’ll bring you no supper.”

He raised his brows. “And what is Mamma making tonight?”

“Whatever it is, you’ll wish you had it.” She jerked her chin pointedly. “Now open the letter.”

Quillan looked down at it. He’d been joking when he suggested reading it privately. But it did unsettle him. Why no return address? Tucking Carina’s head to the side of his jaw, he tore the envelope open and pulled out the papers.

The first was a copy of the train robbery article Pierce had written about him. Maybe it was another attempt by the unwavering rogue to get hold of his poems. But the second was another page from a Wyoming newspaper. That was something different. Quillan looked at the lead article.

Robber cut down by clerk’s foresight. Quillan read on. Notorious bank and train robber Shane Dennison was shot dead Wednesday at the Fort Laramie bank. Quillan stared at the page. The Fort Laramie bank. He recalled the way his hands had trembled when Dennison had thrown him the bags and told him to run. Was the man insane to try that bank again? He pictured Shane’s cocky face. “No one gets the better of me, Quillan. You stick around long enough, you’ll see.” Had that one failure niggled inside until he had to tempt fate once more?