The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(61)

“I don’t know what God’s doing. Cain said He had plans for me, but I don’t see it. I don’t understand.”

“Don’t try to. Just wait.”

He sagged. “For what?”

“God will show you. Gesù Cristo. He will.”

Quillan’s breath came easily now as he enveloped her gently into his arms. “Don’t ever leave me, Carina.”

“No. I promise.”

He sighed. “They thought I was one of the gang.”

“What? How could they? You stopped the outlaws—you didn’t help them!”

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. She heard the sandpaper scrape of his whiskers. He did look rather wild.

She touched his face with her fingertips. “You could shave.”

“I don’t want people to judge me by how I look.”

She sighed. “But they do.”

His jaw grew tight. “Then let them. I am what I am.”

She smiled. “Oh, Quillan.”

He tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “You don’t want a pirate husband?”

“I want you any way at all.” She heard other passengers coming aboard. The whistle blew, and more voices sounded outside their curtain.

He looked at the flimsy barrier and whispered, “You know what I wish? That you and I could have this train all to ourselves, with no one else.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “Others would love and trust you if you gave them the chance.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t seem to know how.”

She stepped back from him as the train made a small lurch forward. “You’ll learn.”

“You’re supremely confident of that.”

She nodded, drawing the curtain back behind their seats to reveal the rest of the car. Then they sat down across from each other, eyes held unswerving. His mouth pulled slightly up at one edge. “God’s got his work, taming me.”

Something smoldered inside her. Did she want him tame? Or was it his difference that made him so irresistible?

They were scarcely on their way when one group after another came to shake Quillan’s hand, to comment on his courage. Mr. Pierce appeared, pad and pencil in hand. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Shepard, I’d like to follow up on that demonstration. It’ll make a great angle for the story.”

“What demonstration?” Carina looked from one to the other.

Mr. Pierce described Quillan’s reproduction of text and diagram. She looked at her husband. How had he felt, forced to perform such things to prove his innocence? But then she knew how he’d felt. “Mr. Pierce, my husband—”

“It’s all right, Carina.” Quillan motioned the newsman to sit beside her. “What would you like to know?”

For the next half hour Mr. Pierce questioned and Quillan demonstrated his mental capacities, reciting portions of books he’d committed to memory, explaining that it had been an ability he’d discovered early on, and how he even had infant memories of his mother’s face and hair. Carina was amazed he would share something so intimate. Was he trying to trust? To be trusted?

“It’s amazing, Mr. Shepard.”

“Quillan.”

Pierce nodded. “Quillan, you realize this is a remarkable gift. To what do you attribute it?”

“To God.”

Pierce raised his brows.

“That surprises you?” Quillan half smiled.

“You don’t look the God-fearing sort.” Pierce shifted uneasily. “And the agent said Dennison called you the ‘reverend’s personal demon.’ ”

Quillan sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I was. But every man can be redeemed if he’s willing. Don’t you believe that?”

Carina watched the newsman search for an answer. Mr. Pierce seemed nonplussed, and she was certain Quillan had intended that.

“I . . . well, I suppose. If he’s willing.”

“Are you willing, Mr. Pierce? Do you serve God with your pen?” Quillan made his face innocently curious. Knowing him as she did, Carina recognized his effort.

The newsman flushed. “Well, I certainly don’t thwart him.”

“Fence-sitter, are you?” Quillan seemed to enjoy turning the tables on Mr. Roderick Pierce, even phrasing the question in the tone and manner of the other man’s speech.

“My experience hasn’t led me one way or another. I’m a reporter. I depend on my eyes and ears. So far they’ve not seen or heard God. Which doesn’t mean I discount him completely. Too much starch in my early spine for that. Only I’m lacking sufficient evidence to make a secure declaration.”

Quillan nodded. “Well, my experience is, the longer you resist, the harder it gets. Best make your peace before the going gets rough.”

Pierce eyed him. “And I imagine you’d be one to know.”

Carina glanced at Quillan, who didn’t answer, leaving Pierce to his imaginings.

Pierce said, “Care to illuminate your relationship with Dennison?”

Quillan shook his head. “No.”

“Off the record?”

Quillan smiled, but still said nothing.

“Waltzed a while with the wicked, did you?” Pierce said it conspiratorially. Quillan glanced to the window and back. “Mr. Pierce . . .”