The Half-Breed's Woman Read online

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t think so, little one,” he murmured. “You and Carlos worked this magic.”

  “You stay, Jeremy,” Callie whispered. “You’ll work yours…tomorrow. When he wakes up, you’ll—tell him—everything. Everything you told me.”

  He nodded somberly. “Yes. Everything.”

  Chapter 22

  “Jaxson?”

  Jax felt as if he were in a thick, swirling fog. He tried to open his eyes.

  “Jaxson?” The voice sounded muted and far away, but not so far that it didn’t make his head pound.

  He moved. A spearing shot of fire surged through his left shoulder, so intense he gasped, and gritted his teeth. Savagely, he swore and tried not to breathe for a long minute.

  Dr. Naylor smiled to himself. “You’re on the road to recovery.” He shook him gently. “Jaxson.”

  Jax moistened his lips. An enameled cup was pressed to his lips, and he drank thirstily. “More,” he whispered, as he finished the water. He opened his eyes, but the light was too bright.

  Jeremy grinned. “Hold on a minute.” He rose and refilled the cup, quickly returning to hold it for his brother once again. “Easy, now, Jax. Not too fast.”

  This time, he drank slower, then laid back on the pillows, breathing hard from the effort it had taken. The poison had been strong; even stronger than he’d thought, at first. If that arrow had hit Callie, she’d have had no chance for survival.

  “Hey, brother. Time to wake up a while now.”

  Jax opened his eyes again, and this time, it was a little easier than before.

  Jeremy smiled at him, and Jax could see the genuine relief overriding the concern in his expression.

  “I’m…okay,” Jax muttered hoarsely.

  “No. Not yet, you’re not,” Jeremy warned. “But you will be, if you rest and take it slow.” He laid his hand on Jax’s arm, as the protest formed in Jax’s expression. “Jax, I’m serious. I know how stubborn you can be, but in this case, rushing things could be fatal for you.”

  Jax nodded reluctantly after a moment. “All right. You’re the doc.”

  “You hungry at all?” Jeremy asked.

  “Huh-uh. Just thirsty again.”

  Jeremy grimaced. “I hate to pour all this water down you with no food, though God knows, you need it. Just don’t want to make your stomach cramp.”

  Jax covered his eyes with his right arm, a gesture that was not lost on his brother. “Your eyes will be sensitive to light for the next couple of days—until the poison works its way out of your system.”

  A ghost of a smile hovered at Jax’s lips. “Guess that means I’ll have this damn headache and dry mouth that long, too.”

  “That headache’ll gradually recede. The dry mouth will be gone by tonight, most likely. You’re going to be drinking a lot of water.”

  Callie shifted in her sleep, forming her body closer to Jax’s. Jax didn’t move, but his smile widened.

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Jeremy asked in a surprised voice.

  “Crazy in love.”

  “Enough to marry her?”

  “Already done, Jem.”

  ****

  Jeremy sat back in the chair. He hadn’t expected that. “She never told me.” That explained a lot. He wondered if Jax knew she was pregnant.

  Jeremy couldn’t be sure of it, but he’d seen enough women in the family way to spot them, usually, showing or not. And Callista Buchanan—Callista McCall—he amended, had the look about her.

  “Do you want to talk or sleep?” Jeremy asked, crossing his long legs.

  “You talk. I’ll listen,” Jax said in a low tone. “Just give me… one more drink, first.”

  Jeremy gave a self-deprecatory smile, reaching for the cup. “I’ve got a lot to say, Jax. You get tired of hearing it, you let me know, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  Jeremy could hear the question in Jax’s tone, but he was at a loss. “I—hardly know where to start.”

  Sorry I stood by and let our father beat you and Brendan, and never protested? Sorry that I rode away from the two of you and never looked back? That was as good a place to start as any other.

  “Jaxson…that day—the second time you ran—”

  Jax’s lips twitched. “A day to remember.”

  “One I’d like to forget. But I can’t. I’ve regretted—not trying to help you and Bren—”

  Jax lifted his arm to look at Jeremy, and immediately put it back in place. Dawn had broken and was filtering through the thin-curtained window directly across from the bed, and the light was too much for him.

  “Just what did you think you’d do, Jem? Brendan and I—we’d tried to—take him on…the time before. We knew not to fight the last time. But, God, it was so hard. He just kept coming and coming at us. Couldn’t get enough. We were so—afraid…”

  Jeremy snorted. “You weren’t afraid. That’s why he was so determined to—break you. But he never did. He never could, no matter how he tried. I think he meant to kill you that last time, Jax. That, or make you crawl back to the ranch and beg him for help.”

  Jax smiled, but didn’t speak.

  Jeremy’s expression was knowing. “You realized it too, didn’t you?”

  “Bren wanted to go back. He was so thirsty—” Jax paused. “I’ll never forget the way he looked at me. As if he expected me to perform some impossible miracle.” He gave a short laugh. “He wanted to go back,” he repeated.

  “But you wouldn’t allow him to,” Jeremy surmised.

  “Couldn’t. The old man would’ve finished what he started.” Jax took a deep breath, and Jeremy could hear the bitterness in his voice. “He’d laugh…the whole time he was killing us.”

  Jeremy nodded slowly, remembering the last look he’d had of his brothers—battered and bruised, blood streaming down their faces as they lay helplessly baking in the August sun. “He was none too happy to learn you were staying with the Ames’.”

  “What about…you, Jem?”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed, then he understood. Jax was asking how he had fared with their father, not how he felt about their survival.

  “After you and Brendan went to live with Joe and Dolly,” he began slowly, “I was the prime target once more.” His voice sounded mocking, even to himself.

  “Is that why you hated us so much?” Jax asked. He lay with his eyes still covered.

  “I guess—that was part of it,” Jeremy admitted.

  “And, the rest?” Jax questioned, after a long moment had passed.

  Jeremy sighed heavily. “I admired the two of you. And I—I knew Jack McCall did, too.”

  Jax’s lips twisted. “He sure had a hell of a way of showing it.”

  “Yes. But, I know he did. I could see it, every time you and Bren defied him.” He shook his head, giving a rueful chuckle. “After seeing what he did to you two, he knew he’d get no trouble from me.” He looked past Jax absently, his tone thoughtful. “Maybe, he’d have respected me more if I had been like the two of you. But I was too afraid.” He returned his gaze to Jax. “All that was left was to hate you and Bren. Maybe by doing that, Jack would see that he and I were on the same side—against the two of you. Trouble was, he hated all of us. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”

  Jeremy fell silent, listening to the regular rise and fall of Jax’s chest. It was a welcome sound, after the fitful night he’d spent, his breathing ragged and shallow.

  “I’m…listening, Jem,” Jax murmured, but his voice was sleepy.

  Jeremy smiled, passing a weary hand over his face. “I wish we had those years back.”

  “Not me.”

  Jeremy laughed. “I meant—I’d do things a lot differently this time around, Jax. Maybe—maybe I’d find the courage inside of me to run with you and Brendan.”

  Jax smiled. “If I’d known you were gonna be a doctor, Jem, we’d have given you no choice. We could’ve used you—both times.”

  They were
quiet for a moment, then Jax said, “Thank you for coming this time.”

  “I still have dreams about that day, Jax. Nightmares. Did you know that?” Jeremy sat forward, intently. “I—I go to sleep at night and I wake up in a cold sweat—seeing the old man picking you up and hitting you again and again. Shoving you down. Picking you up. Blood flying everywhere. And Brendan—God,he was scared, but he was trying so damn hard not to show it. But Jack McCall, damn his soul, could smell fear.” Jeremy’s voice was low, savage. “He took pleasure in it. And, he knew how afraid I was, too.” He took a deep, shaking breath.

  “You’ll sleep fine tonight.”

  Jeremy swallowed hard, his silver gaze sweeping over his half-brother. Jax was forgiving him—for everything. He felt his chest clench tightly with the sudden unexpected gift Jax had handed him. He wanted to speak, but couldn’t; wanted to tell him how long he’d waited for this without even realizing it. He wanted to explain, not knowing how to even begin, but with one simple sentence, Jax had let him know he understood—that there was no need for further apology or explanation. Thirteen years of anger and hatred had been washed away in a single day, with just a few words spoken between them.

  He made a vow to himself as he sat in the straight-backed chair watching Jax sleep. If his brother ever needed him again, for anything, he would not fail him. He would never again ride away and not look back. Nor would he ever stand by and watch, helpless, unable to offer assistance.

  Jax had accepted him, forgiving those times before. Jeremy knew Jax now expected him to be a brother in the true sense of the word. And he intended to do just that.

  Chapter 23

  Callie awoke slowly, her limbs stiff and cold. She shivered, rising, and added a log to the banked coals in the fireplace. The wind whistled shrilly around the corner of the building.

  Carlos sat up and blinked his eyes, then stood and made straight for the fireplace, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He moved as if he’d been awake for hours, Callie thought.

  He looked at Callie as she stood beside the bed, her hand across Jax’s forehead. She glanced at the boy and gave him a warm smile.

  “The fever’s broken, Carlos.”

  He grinned a mile-wide grin. “So, Señor Jax—he will be all right?”

  “It looks like it,” she answered, her gaze falling upon Jax’s stubbled face once again. Callie sat down in the chair Jem Naylor had spent the better part of the night in. As she did so, she caught sight of a piece of folded paper on the nightstand.

  She reached for it, and began to read.

  “Mrs. McCall,” it began, and Callie smiled. Jax must have been awake and talking to his brother at least part of the night.

  I have gone home to clean up and get a few hours’ sleep.

  I’ll return early- to mid-afternoon to check on the patient.

  It would be good for him to eat something. JN

  Callie smiled and laid the note back on the nightstand, then she looked at Carlos.

  “Dr. Naylor will be back this afternoon. Maybe you better let your folks know where you are, Carlos. Won’t they be worried about you?

  “I have no family, Miss Callie,” Carlos said matter-of-factly. “No one will mind that I stay here…or that I do not come home.”

  “Carlos…how is it that you have no one?” His casual acceptance of his solitary existence was gut-wrenching.

  “I have no brothers or sisters, and I never knew my papa. My mama died when I was just a little boy.”

  You still are a little boy, Callie wanted to say, but she knew he was wise for his years. Thinking back on his cool dismissal of her yesterday, the knowing way he held a gun, and the experienced way he had cauterized Jax’s wound with the black powder, Callie was certain he believed himself capable of anything. And maybe he was. But, he was still only ten years old.

  “Would you like a piece of peppermint candy?” she asked, unexpectedly. She wanted to do something for him. Give him a treat. Let him be a youngster.

  A white grin flashed across his face. “Sí, I would!”

  Callie went to her valise and dug inside for some pennies, handing five of them to the boy. His eyes widened at her generosity.

  “Miss Callie! Thank you! Are you sure—” he began doubtfully, but Callie closed his hand around the money and nodded.

  “Yes, Carlos. I’m positive. Now, you take this money and go buy yourself some candy. You deserve it.”

  Carlos hurried to the door, turning as he was about to shut it. “I’ll be back soon, Miss Callie. I promise. It won’t take me long, you’ll see!” He closed the door softly and was gone.

  ****

  Brendan looked at the sun, what there was of it, once more. It seemed as if he’d been riding for days, but he’d only been gone from Dolly’s place maybe two hours, at best. His mouth tightened into a grim line. It had been hard to leave Dolly. She suddenly looked very tired. Very old.

  Bren’s coal-black eyes swept the land continually, alert for danger. It was always there. And it could come in many forms: man, beast, weather, or just the terrain itself.

  His mind shifted to his brother. Dolly had said Jax was traveling with a woman. Young, she’d said. And very, very stunning. He grinned to himself. Trust Jax to always pick out the most exotic, the most unusual—the most beautiful. And this time, Dolly had said, he’d even picked out one that was nice. A thought came to him then that wiped the smile from his face.

  What if Jaxson was serious about this girl? What if he was giving some thought to permanency? Brendan shook his head at his own thoughts. No. Not Jax. This marshalling business owned him just as much as it did Brendan. Still, they were both getting older; had both been at it for a long spell.

  Again, Bren thought of Dolly Ames and how he had inadvertently hurt her. He hadn’t meant to. It seemed he was always after one outlaw or another anymore. Maybe Dolly was right about it taking up so much of him. Not just his time, but his very being. But what else was there? A wife and kids? A spread of his own?

  He laughed aloud at his own fanciful thoughts. Even if he wanted those things—and not saying he did—where would he find them? How would he get them?

  All at once, it seemed, the luster had gone from his job. He felt unsettled and unsure. Just yesterday, before he’d ridden in to the stage station he used to call home, he’d felt satisfied with his life and the way he’d chosen.

  But Dolly had raised questions in his mind. Had she been trying, in her own roundabout way, to offer him the stage station? Maybe she felt she was getting too old to handle it alone.

  He needed to find Jax and talk to him. They had always been close. At least, that would never change. He spurred the horse into a gallop, the uneasiness tearing at him.

  ****

  When Carlos didn’t immediately return, Callie wasn’t overly worried. After all, she reasoned, it couldn’t be much fun for an active boy his age to be cooped up here with nothing but adults, and one of them hanging between life and death.

  But after an hour had passed, then two, she became agitated. There was no telling where Carlos was, or what he was doing, and she told herself there was no need for concern. Not really. But somehow, she couldn’t convince herself of it, and her mind kept returning time and again to Wolf Blocker and his gang, and the steady, thoughtful way Carlos had always been ready with a pistol any time the door was opened.

  She shivered, wishing the boy would return. It had to be close to noon, and as if to confirm her thoughts, her stomach rumbled.

  Jax still slept, untroubled, his fever completely gone. That was a relief for her, but she couldn’t rid herself of the gnawing feeling that something was amiss. She knew Carlos was loyal. And he seemed dependable. The type of boy to do what he promised.

  Where was he? Should she go look for him? She sighed, undecided. Could she leave Jax alone, even for a few minutes? She hated to think about doing that, but it was likely the only solution. Maybe she could wait til Jeremy arrived. But, that could be two hours m
ore, who knew?

  A knock sounded at the door, startling her from her thoughts. Callie picked up Jax’s gun, hesitantly crossing the room.

  “Who is it?” she asked cautiously.

  “I have a message for you, ma’am,” a woman’s voice said. “Some fella left it for you downstairs.”

  Callie unlocked the door, swinging it open, and a middle-aged woman handed her a rumpled piece of paper.

  “Who is it from? Do you know?” Callie asked anxiously.

  “Never seen the guy before. Hope I never see him again. He was tall, lanky. Had bright blue eyes. Pretty blue, but he looked mean as a snake.” The short brunette shuddered.

  “Thank you.” Callie’s voice was hollow. She locked the door behind the woman and opened the paper with shaking fingers. The letters were written in an uneven scrawl:

  If you want to see the boy alive we need to talk—downstairs.

  Callie gasped, sinking into the chair beside Jax. She remembered Jax’s warning about Blocker’s gang. No doubt this message was from one of his men.

  But Jax was in no shape to talk to anyone, much less one of Blocker’s hired gunmen. It was up to her to get Carlos back safe. She drew a shaky breath, wondering if they had already harmed the boy.

  Quickly, she turned the paper over and scribbled a note to Jeremy. There was no time to go look for him. She had no idea where he lived, or if he’d come back to his office. In either case, she couldn’t spare the time it would take to find him. She hated to leave Jax, but he was resting well, and Jeremy would be coming soon, she hoped. She couldn’t fail Carlos. There was no one else to help him.

  She snatched up her valise and fumbled inside for the derringer. It was loaded, she knew; it had been since the day Jax had fought Blue Feather. Sam Briscoe had made sure of it. She slipped it into her dress pocket.

  Laying the note on the nightstand where it could easily be seen, she bent and kissed Jax’s forehead, touching his dark hair. She had to go. There was no other way. She couldn’t let Carlos be tortured and murdered, and after what Jax had told her, she had no doubt that was what Blocker’s men had planned.