With a soft sigh and a moan, Faith burrowed more snugly against Rawley. She could get used to waking up each morning with his arms around her, his scent filling her nostrils.
“Morning,” he said, his voice low and raspy, not quite as awake as other parts of his body.
Tilting her head back, she smiled at him. “Morning.”
“I need to sneak out before Callie wakes up.”
“She may already be up. I heard the front door—”
Rufus’s barks filled the air.
She groaned, buried her face in the curve of his neck. “Yep. They’re up.”
“I don’t suppose we have time to greet the day proper.”
“I would like nothing better than to make love to you, but the fella who lived in this cabin before me didn’t put a lock on the bedroom door. And Callie will just burst through because never before has there been a reason for her to knock.”
“How are we going to explain my being here?”
Rufus barked louder.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t ask.”
“Faith, she’s going to ask.” The barking grew in volume and intensity. “That girl is curious—”
More frantic barking.
“Something’s wrong.” Faith threw back the covers and scrambled out of the bed.
Rawley didn’t question her. Just snatched up his pants, but she didn’t wait on him. She drew her nightdress over her head because it was the quickest way to cover herself up. Not knowing what kind of critter had Rufus riled, she grabbed her pistol from the bedside table and ran. Her legs had never churned so fast.
The front door was open. She rushed through it, staggered to a stop.
A man was kneeling on one knee, his arm locked around Callie, holding her firmly between his legs. While she was struggling, it was obvious she couldn’t break free.
“Mama!”
The man looked familiar but his nose was so misshapen—crooked and bent, nearly flat in the middle—that he hardly resembled the bastard who’d taken advantage of her.
“Let her go,” she ordered.
Rawley stumbled to a stop at her back.
“Well, well, what have we here?” the man said, and his voice caused the short hairs on the nape of her neck to rise.
“Let her go, Cole.”
“I don’t think so.” He waved a gun in his other hand then pointed it at Callie.
Faith swore her heart stopped.
“If either of you do anything stupid—”
“You’re her father, Cole.”
For the span of a heartbeat, he appeared stunned, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want, Berringer?” Rawley asked pointedly.
“What do I want? I want my life back!”
He pointed the gun at Faith, and Rawley stepped in front of her quickly before she could even blink. He hadn’t bothered to take the time to put on a shirt or his boots. Glancing down, she saw the gun he’d tucked into the waistband of his pants. She went to move around him, but his arm shot out, stopping her from going forward.
“And I want the damn dog to stop barking!”
“Rufus, play dead,” Faith yelled. The dog whined. “Play dead,” she ordered, and he rolled onto his side.
“That’s impressive,” Cole said.
“Grampa and me taught him,” Callie said innocently, not truly understanding the dire danger she was in or that her life was at risk.
“Aren’t you a clever girl?” Cole said.
“Let her go, Cole,” Faith said. “We can sort this out.”
“She’s my leverage. I’d planned to use you, Faith. But he’s”—he nodded toward Rawley—“been sticking to your side ever since he got back. Even cutting the wire couldn’t separate you from Cooper. Then I saw you with this little tadpole last night—”
“You were at the theater,” Faith stated with conviction.
“With it belonging to your family, I figured you’d be there, that maybe I could get you alone. But once I saw her, I decided she’d be easier to handle. You’ve got too much fight in you, Faith. How does it feel, Cooper, knowing I had her first?”
She could see the tenseness in Rawley’s muscles as he shrugged. “How does it feel knowing you’ve viewed your last sunrise?”
Cole laughed, a hideous sound. “A cowboy to the end, talking big. Except I’m holding all the cards.”
“But like Faith said, she’s your daughter. Once that sinks in you’re not going to hurt her, no matter how much of a low-down skunk you are. Me, on the other hand—” Rawley stepped down from the porch and spread his arms wide. “I’m not armed. You let her go into the house and I’ll drop to my knees right here. Then if your terms—whatever the hell they are—aren’t met, killing me won’t stop you from sleeping at night.”
She was fairly certain that as soon as Callie was free, Rawley would be reaching for his gun—but with Cole’s already drawn, Rawley’s chances of hitting Cole before Rawley took a bullet weren’t good. He had to know that.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Cole said.
Although he didn’t release his hold on Callie, he seemed to be pondering his options, and Faith was thinking as well. Her gun was hidden in the folds of her nightdress. If he’d seen it, he would have ordered her to toss it. With him holding Callie as he was, she couldn’t ensure she wouldn’t hit her daughter. And even if she could hit him with unerring accuracy, did she want Callie to see a man shot before her eyes, to have his blood spraying over her? Did she want Callie to grow up with those images locked in her memory? If there was no other choice—
Cole finally nodded. “On your knees.”
“Release her first,” Rawley insisted.
“After you’re on your knees. And put your hands up.”
With little more than a glance back at her that reflected all the love he held for her—as though he knew it might be the final time he looked at her—Rawley did as ordered. Faith wanted to stop him but needed Callie out of danger. Everything within her wanted to scream, rant, and rave, but she held her silence as she continually evaluated the situation.
When Rawley’s knees hit the dirt, Cole released Callie and gave her a little shove. “Go to your mama.”
Callie raced to her, hugged her legs. Rufus saw that as his signal to no longer play dead and loped over to the steps. Without taking her eyes off Cole, Faith placed her hand on Callie’s head. “Go into the house. Uncle Rawley’s shirt is in my bedroom. There’s a sarsaparilla stick in the pocket. It’s yours. The whole thing.” That would keep her occupied for a while. “I want you to stay in my bedroom with the door closed until Uncle Rawley or I come for you—no matter what you hear, you don’t come out. Take Rufus with you.”
“Come on, Rufus!” her little girl yelled before dashing into the house.
Faith heard a distant door slam shut and breathed a sigh of relief. For a little while her daughter was safe. “All right, Cole, now that you’ve got our attention, what is it you want?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“I don’t have ten thousand dollars.”
“Your father does. You see what he did to my face? Beat it to a pulp. I can’t even get a woman to look at me, much less fuck me.”
Knowing her father, she had suspected he’d delivered a blow or two when he told her he’d taken care of Cole.
“Your lack of success with the ladies might have more to do with the way you treat them,” she said, not bothering to tamp down her disgust for him.
“You were playing hard to get and always talking about him.” He waved his gun at Rawley. “His stupid postcards, his letters, all the places he went, the things he saw.”
“I didn’t deserve what you did.”
“I never had a woman complain.”
Her stomach roiled. “I wasn’t the first you forced?”
“You were the first to go to her daddy. Taking his fists to me and kicking me out of town wasn’t enough for him. Somehow he managed to arrange it so I can’t get any loans or any investors. Even my family won’t help.”
“He’s a powerful man,” Rawley said, “with a lot of influence in this state.”
“Am I talking to you?” Then Cole jerked his attention back Faith. “I haven’t been able to drill a single well since I left here. I’m ruined. So I want that money. You can go and get it, but if you bring anyone back here, he’s dead.”
“She’s not getting you the money. She’s not going anywhere. But you are. You’re going straight to hell.” Rawley lunged to the side, reaching back for his gun as he did so—
Cole fired. Faith screamed as Rawley went still. She rushed over to him, lifted his head into her lap, pressed her hand to his shoulder where the blood was oozing.
“You get him?” Rawley whispered.
She looked over at Cole. He barked out a laugh. “Looks like I’m just as good at killing rattlesnakes.”
Then Cole’s gaze went to his shirt where the red blossomed out. Blinking in disbelief, he stared at her. She’d been so worried about Rawley that she barely registered firing her Colt. His gun slipped from his fingers as though he no longer had control over them. Slowly he crumpled to the ground.
Faith turned her attention back to Rawley. “Yeah. I got him.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“He could have killed you. I don’t know what you were thinking,” Faith said as she paced.
Rawley was sitting on the back veranda of her parents’ house, his arm in a sling. She’d bandaged his shoulder as tightly as she could to stop the bleeding, helped him into a shirt, and tossed a quilt over Cole so Callie wouldn’t see him. Her daughter had accepted Faith’s tale that the man had decided to take a nap.
After Faith had saddled the horses, the three of them had ridden to the house so her mother could watch Callie. Then Faith took Rawley into town to see the doctor, while her father returned to the cabin with some ranch hands, got Cole into a wagon, and brought him to the sheriff. Once Rawley’s shoulder was treated—the bullet had gone through, nothing vital had been hit—they’d both gone to the sheriff to explain what had happened, how she’d been forced to shoot Cole in self-defense.
Then they’d returned to the house, where her mother had convinced her they needed to stay the night. Her parents were keeping Callie occupied while Faith had it out with Rawley. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
“I knew you had your gun,” he told her now, “but you couldn’t take advantage of that as long as he was using Callie for cover. I was hoping there was a spark of decency in him that would allow me to trade places with her. I knew you’d shoot him if he went for me, that you’d kill him and that you and Callie would be safe.”
“But you didn’t know if my bullet would stop him from killing you.”
“Because I wasn’t what mattered. When you told him that he was Callie’s father, it hit me.”
She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. “What hit you?”
“That I loved her more than he ever could. It didn’t matter that he’d planted the seed. Here”—he punched two fingers to the center of his chest—“in my heart, she’s mine. If I had to, I’d lay down my life for her without hesitation or regret.”
He stood, walked over to her, and wrapped his good arm around her, bringing her flush against him. “And I’d do the same for you. Nothing in this world is more important to me than you and your little girl. I’d like to make an honest woman out of you.”
She gave him an impish grin. “Was that your idea of a proposal, Rawley Cooper?”
With a roll of his eyes, he started to lower himself to the ground. She stopped him. “Going to your knees once today was enough.” She wound her arms around his neck. “I love you with everything I am. When I thought you were dead, the light in my world dimmed. I’ll marry you on the condition you never put yourself in front of a gun again.”
“From here on out, darling, we’ll just lead a boring life.”
“I beat Grampa at checkers!” Callie yelled as she skipped out of the house. “Again!”
“He’s just not as good as you are, is he?” Faith asked.
“Uh-uh.” She grabbed the beam and swayed back and forth. “Mama, you told that man he was my father.”
With a deep breath, she released her hold on Rawley. She’d planned to have this discussion years from now. “I know. You see, Callie—”
“But he’s not,” she said in a tone that indicated there was no point in arguing the matter. “Uncle Rawley is.”
“Why would you say that?”
“’Cuz I love him so much.”
Rawley sat on the step. “I’d like to be your papa. Would it be okay if I married your mama? Then we could all live together.”
Callie nodded. “Rufus, too?”
Rawley grinned. “Rufus, too.”
Faith joined him on the step. Careful of his wound, she circled her arms around him. “Do you think we might give Ma and Pa a few more grandchildren?”
“I’m certainly willing to give it my best.”
Placing her hands behind his head, she brought him down for a kiss. She loved this man so much. She’d lost him once, didn’t intend to ever lose him again.