“Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you all the way to the house.”
He sped up as if he expected her to try to jump out of the truck. “We’ll be there in a jiffy,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks.” Erin finished her water bottle.
As they neared the house, he slowed down. “Before you go, I need to say something.” He glanced at her to make sure she was listening. “Kyle’s young. I know he’s got some growing up to do. But he’s got a good heart, and he loves you. Here’s the thing. If you’re having a hard time with him, you can talk to me. I’ll always listen and understand. I don’t just want to be your father-in-law. I want to be your friend.”
The truck was pulling up to the porch. Choosing to ignore his words, she opened the door. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Cardwell.” She closed the door and forced herself to walk slowly and calmly into the house.
* * *
Luke had gone back to work, shoeing the horses that would be used in the upcoming roundup. He’d forbidden Erin to help him or even to come by and watch. Instead he reported to Sky, who, in his typical fashion, never mentioned a word about Luke’s legal predicament or his relationship with Erin.
He was grateful for the work. At least it kept him occupied. But the thought that the sheriff could show up at any time, cuff him, and haul him back to jail on a murder charge was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. The circumstances—the confrontation with Will and the lack of a solid alibi—were damning enough. But that assault conviction in his past was the capper. Unless evidence could be found that would clear him, he was dead meat.
The real killer was out there, maybe close by. But as long as the sheriff had a likely suspect and, with a little more evidence, could wrap up the case and take the credit, he wouldn’t want to waste time looking for anybody else.
Luke paused to swig water from the bottle he kept close by. The temptation to run was a constant urge. Leave everything. Just disappear into another life with another identity. But that would be a sure admission of guilt. The only way to prove his innocence—and to be with Erin—was to stay.
As if the thought could summon her, he looked across the yard and saw Erin climbing out of an unfamiliar blue pickup that had pulled up to the house. She was dressed in black—probably for the funeral of the young deputy who’d been killed. But even at a distance he could tell that something was wrong. He could almost sense her struggle as she climbed the front steps, head up, limping slightly, as if trying to hide pain.
He wanted to go to her. But that was out of the question.
As the truck backed up and turned around, he tried to see the driver. The sun’s glare on the windshield made it difficult to get a good look, but he could tell it wasn’t Kyle. Did she have a new man in her life? But he’d be a fool to ask that question. Erin wasn’t his property. Even if she loved him, he hadn’t earned the right to call her his.
As she disappeared into the house, he turned away and went back to work, shaping a shoe for a sturdy dun gelding. His hammer blows rang across the yard as he pounded the steel shoe on the anvil. At least Erin would hear the sound, know he was close by, and that he was doing his best to watch over her.
* * *
Vivian sat frozen at the foot of the table, willing herself not to break. She’d witnessed countless mealtime arguments between her husband and her son. Most of the time she’d managed to stay uninvolved. But this time Hunter’s fury had pulled her in, with no way out.
“Tell me the truth, Vivian!” His fist crashed onto the table, rattling the plates and cutlery. “Who were you sleeping with when this dolt was conceived? I know it wasn’t me! There’s no way somebody like me could’ve fathered such a clueless idiot!”
“Look at him.” Vivian spoke calmly, knowing he wanted her to cry and crumble. Her icy self-control was the only weapon she had against his rages. “You know very well he’s your son. There’s no need for you to say those terrible things.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Kyle shot to his feet. His swollen left eye looked like an overripe plum. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here! I’m an adult, for Christ’s sake! At least treat me like one!”
“Then start acting like one! I asked for one thing—get that girl to marry you! I even paid for a lesson with that whore so you’d know what to do when the time came. And what do you do the next time you’re with little Miss Tyler? You manhandle her till she fights you off and runs. I don’t know what the hell you are—mentally defective maybe. But one thing you’re not is a man. Maybe you should stick with those damn porno sites on your computer and leave real women alone.”
Vivian stifled a gasp. She’d actually believed her son when he’d said he was taking an online course. She’d never checked his computer because she wanted to respect his privacy. And the lesson Hunter had mentioned—what else could it be? What a stupid, naive fool she’d been.
Trembling, she rose from her place at the table. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “You two can finish this without me.”
“Stay right there!” her husband snapped. “I’m not finished with you! You’re the one who raised this namby-pamby excuse for a man. You always coddled and spoiled him. You always protected him when he had to face something hard. Now look at him. Look at what you’ve done. This is your fault!”
Shattered, Vivian gripped the back of her chair. She’d tried to be a good mother. She’d tried to shield her son from his father’s vicious browbeating. Had her
well-meant protectiveness made Kyle weak? She could only blame herself.
Hunter swung back toward his son. “I have one question for you. Can you fix this mess and get the girl back? Answer me!”
“It wasn’t my fault.” Kyle’s voice bordered on a whine. “It’s that bastard Maddox. He’s turned her head. As long as he’s around, there’s no chance Erin will have me.”
“I didn’t ask you whose fault it was,” Hunter said. “I asked you if you could fix it. So can you?”
Kyle hesitated; then his head came up. His jaw took on a determined thrust. “Yes,” he said. “I can fix it.”
Hunter nodded. “That’s more like it,” he said.