Next to the last lay one small, withered man, his thick glasses still perched on his nose.
Daniel knelt. “Altus,” he whispered as he removed the glasses and closed the man's eyes.
He ignored the pain in his leg as he walked home. Blair's brother was dead. Daniel had done nothing to help a man who had taken no side in the war. Now, if Daniel was going to stop more bloodshed, he'd have to act fast.
TWENTY-THREE
DANIEL FORCED HIMSELF TO CLIMB THE STEPS TO his house. “My house.” He laughed. Without a church, this wouldn't be his much longer. Not that it ever had been. The preacher who built this place had been killed one night by what the sheriff claimed to be a stray bullet. The sheriff called in the Rangers to help with the crime and to insure the townsfolk would think he did all that could be done. After all, it didn't look good to have a preacher killed on the streets for no reason.
When Wolf investigated, he found the gun wall built into the preacher's new house. He suspected murder rather than bad luck. Wolf kept his find secret and wired for Daniel's help. They'd uncovered a great many problems in the months they'd been in Jefferson, but so far, no one had mentioned the hidden wall with enough artillery stored to restart the war in these parts.
What bothered Daniel more was the disappearance of the first preacher's mother. The night her son was shot, she seemed to have vanished. She'd been a quiet woman who kept to herself, but surely someone had seen her leave.
He sometimes caught himself glancing in corners, expecting to see her standing near or almost afraid to look up at an open window after dark for fear she'd be looking back.
Daniel shook off the feeling. This wasn't his house any more than Karlee was his wife. He slowly opened the door. No smell of coffee greeted him. Karlee wasn't up yet.
Painfully, he limped to the hallway and slid the panel open. The guns were gone. She'd done what he'd asked. Somehow, somewhere, she'd hidden the weapons. Until he knew which side they belonged to, it was safer if no one knew they existed. The searching of the house had been a close call. Too close.
He crossed to the open door of the parlor and saw his wife sleeping on his bed. With an exhausted sigh, he lowered himself beside her and rolled her into his arms as if he'd done so hundreds of times.
“Daniel?” she murmured.
“Shhhh,” he whispered, pressing his face against the soft warm smells of her hair. “Go back to sleep.”
She stretched, allowing him the length of her warmth and did as he requested.
Daniel plowed his fingers into the velvet of her hair and relaxed. The world could wait a few hours while he rested. He needed to feel her against him more than he wanted to admit. She'd slept in his bed as if knowing he'd return and find her. She anchored him to the only peace he'd found in months.
He brushed her hair back from her face. She was not a woman he'd have thought to court, even if he'd been looking for a wife. There was something a little unnerving about a woman tall enough to look a man in the eyes. Most women he'd felt like a giant around, always afraid he'd move too fast and accidentally step on them. Or put too much pressure in his grip when he touched them and crush their birdlike bones. But he didn't feel that way with Karlee. She seemed to fit by his side and in his life.
Running his thumb lightly over her full lips, he thought of kissing her. But he'd wait. He wanted her fully awake when he returned the passionate kiss she'd given him in the stockade. For now just holding her as he slept felt good.
He felt like he'd just closed his eyes when the shrill sound of a woman's voice shattered his dreams. “Oh, my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” someone kept screaming as if it were a war hymn at benediction.
Daniel opened one eye to bright daylight as Karlee scrambled from his side. He wanted to pull her back, but couldn't clear his foggy mind fast enough to act on his thoughts.
The voice came closer. “Daniel McLain! You call yourself a preacher! You will rot in Hell! You and this worthless, homely cousin of mine!”
He put a name to the voice. “Gerilyn,” he mumbled as one might identify a plague.
“How dare you defile the memory of my dear sister by sleeping with another woman so soon after she died? And with her children just upstairs. The sin is unforgivable!”
“Gerilyn.” His voice grew stronger, and he managed to open both eyes.
“And you call yourself a fit parent. I've seen barn cats with more discretion.”
“Gerilyn!” Daniel's voice didn't rise, but became deadly calm. “Enough.”
“I'll not forget your sin so easily, Daniel McLain. You can't quiet me with a word.”
He faced her, now fully awake. “Would you mind telling me, dear sister-in-law, what is so terrible about a man sleeping next to his wife?”
Karlee finally found the nerve to look at Gerilyn. The woman's face drained of all color except the tiny round spots she'd painted on each cheek.
She raised one manicured hand. “You mean you married this… this…” Gerilyn shook her head so hard the perfection of her curls wilted. “You can't be serious.”
Bolting from the room, Karlee didn't need to hear more. She'd heard it all before. It made no sense that a handsome, kind man like Daniel McLain would marry her. And Gerilyn was the one person who must never know the truth of why he had. So Daniel would have to stand and take a listing of all Karlee's shortcomings.
Running into the kitchen, Karlee covered her ears, not wanting to hear what they said to one another. What did it matter why he married her? He was stuck with her, and Gerilyn would never let him forget it.
She lifted the load of dirty clothes and hurried outside. Today was laundry day, and she might as well get started. The feeling that if she worked hard enough and long enough eventually she would matter, kept her hands moving. If she did the chores no one else wanted to do? If she acted like she didn't mind when they laughed at her? If she…
Karlee shoved the first load of clothes into the pot of water and lit the fire beneath. She didn't want to think. It didn't matter that her hair flew around her wildly or that she scrubbed her knuckles raw. All that mattered was that she not think about what Daniel was telling Gerilyn. Or worse, what she was telling him.
As Karlee lifted the first load of clean clothes and moved toward the line, her foot caught on the hem of her skirt and she tripped, tumbling the clothes into the dirt.
For a moment, she waited, expecting to hear laughter from the house.
But all she heard was the sound of the door opening. Then Daniel knelt by her side helping her pick up the twisted balls of cloth.
“Don't,” she whispered fighting back tears. “I can do it.”
“Karlee?” He handed her a muddy shirt. “What is it?”
“I can do it. Don't help me.” She tried not to notice the question in his eyes.
“I didn't tell Gerilyn anything except that we were married.” Daniel was trying to guess the source of her distress. “And to mind her own business. But she never seems to hear that part of any discussion we have.”
“It doesn't matter what you said.” She grabbed the last of the once clean clothes. “Just don't help me. She'll be watching.”
“I don't care if she watches.” Daniel looked confused.
Karlee turned back to the pot and set the clothes down to be rewashed. “But I do. Don't you see, she'll say I couldn't do it right and you had to help me.”
“Well, if she's watching, we might as well give her something to see.” In one swift action, he swung her into his arms.
Karlee opened her mouth to protest as his lips closed over hers. His kiss was hard and determined. His arms tightened as he held her a few inches off the ground. She clung to him more from a need to balance than a caress.