Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(32)
“Kevin, I want to ride over and visit my father.”
Kevin, lying beside her in bed, sat up so suddenly her head dropped off his shoulder. “But why? You’ve never wanted to go see him before. You even hoped he’d heard about our wedding through gossip so we wouldn’t have to stop by and see him.”
She tugged on his arm, and he came back down beside her. He loved this woman. Loved her beyond reason. Cherished every moment she was in his arms. But right now, he wanted to knock on her head to see if anyone was home.
“Remember we talked one night at the table, all of us, about honoring our parents?”
“Yes, one of the commandments. ‘Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with a promise. That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.’ We talked about having some mighty poor parents to choose from, and how do you honor someone who’s lived a long life of cheating and being the worst kind of thief?”
Win moved to rest her head on his shoulder again. She slept close to him every night, and he reveled in it. She filled a lonely place in his heart that he hadn’t even known was there. And when he’d told her that, she’d glowed and told him she felt just the same.
No longer alone.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She settled into his arms. “About how to honor my wretched father. Even if he doesn’t turn out to be a murderer, he was never kind. Never wanted me around. He was eager to send me off to live with Cheyenne’s family. All while he’d speak ill of them because he didn’t consider Cheyenne and her ma to be ladylike. They were working hard outside while Pa sat inside, living off my mother’s wealth. So how do I honor a man who never cared about me? Never gave me any time or love or kindness. Was never in any real way a father to me.”
“And have you figured it out? Because I’d like to hear it if you have. I can’t quite believe it’s right to honor a man such as Clovis Hunt.”
“Your pa is dead. I think that puts him beyond anything you can do.” Win sat up, and Kevin saw her clearly in the moonlight that came through the window. It bathed her in blue, her hair like midnight, her skin mysterious and cool. “But my pa is right here, nearby. All I can think of to honor him is . . . is . . .” Shaking her head, she went on, “It’s not enough, maybe it’s not even right, but I think I honor him by not being like him. By praying for him. By talking to him if he gives me a chance.”
“You’d have to be careful not to warn him or make him suspicious of Molly.”
Nodding, Win lay down again. “I can’t have a really frank talk with him about how he’s hurt me, not now. But I can pray for him. I can be courteous and go see him. And when this is over, assuming he’s locked up tight somewhere, I can . . . can treat him like Jesus treated those in prison, those who were lame or sick or hungry. I can confront him with the truth and give him a chance to be honest with me.”
“Where’s there a prison around here? It might be hard to go visit.”
“I can write him letters.” She reached over and patted Kevin on the arm. “But before we lock him up, I can begin honoring him as I see fit. And to do that, I have to go see him. You’ll get to see Molly, maybe even pull her aside and speak to her, nothing would be more natural than a brother wanting to visit his sister, and it would make sense you’d step away just a bit from Pa to have a quiet talk with her.”
“That won’t work because I’d never leave you alone with him.”
That got Win’s attention. “You really think I’m in danger from my own father?”
Kevin hesitated before he said, “I think, that is, I’m afraid that, yes, maybe you really are in danger.”
“Well, maybe you can step out of the room with me and Pa but not go far.”
“Maybe.” He pulled her close to sleep, glad he had someone so perfect in his arms.
Wyatt dug a pitchfork into a pile of old straw and heaved it into a wheelbarrow to carry outside. He had the stalls all cleaned, and he’d gotten the seven men who worked there to get busy. They were lazy but not so much they wanted to head down the road. He thought he might be able to turn them into real cowhands given time.
The barn was almost cleaned out. The horses and cattle were now being cared for. A chicken coop had eggs being gathered regularly. The place was shaping up. And it burned bad to be clearing things up so well for that lazy half-wit Hawkins.
But he did it. Part of it was simple honesty: he was earning good wages, he’d give an honest day’s work. Part of it was caring for the animals. Wyatt couldn’t abide seeing an animal in pain or hungry and ailing if it was within his power to help it.
And mostly he did it thinking of Win. This would be hers someday. And seeing as how Wyatt intended to see Hawkins hanged, that day was coming soon.
He was getting the place in shape for a new owner. His friend Win and her husband, Kevin, who still hadn’t found a place to live or built a cabin. And that was not their fault. They kept being needed at the RHR.
With Clovis’s wedding to Wyatt’s ma now strongly suspected by the family to be bigamous, Kevin had no ownership of the RHR. Of course, to break the will, they had to prove the wedding was a sham, and they’d been mighty busy rounding up outlaws and investigating crimes.
Kevin hadn’t asked for much. A hundred acres that’d grow a crop. On the RHR, a forty-thousand-acre ranch, they oughta be able to do that. Kevin even said he’d pay rent or buy the place over time. He made it clear staying in the ramrod’s house felt like charity. But now that Win was back running the household, and Kevin was being called on to do what could be done to fill in for Wyatt around the ranch, he was more than earning his keep.