When Passion Calls

"I don't see how Father can last much longer," Josh said, repositioning his hat so that the brim shadowed his cool blue eyes. "He wastes away a little more each day. I sometimes think I shouldn't leave the house. I'd hate to be gone when . . . when he needed me."

He looked over his shoulder, across the stretch of land that separated the Brennan farm from the Stantons'. A two-storied mansion loomed up, a pillared facade with a wide porch and mansard roof, white and stark. It was a large, empty home. His father had chosen not to remarry, but had instead mourned for the wife he had loved so intensely.

Josh hungered to fill the house with many laughing children. His and Melanie's.

"At least he's not alone today," he said thickly. "Mike Green, his attorney, is there. He should be there a good portion of the day. They have much to discuss." He frowned darkly, knowing that a will was being drawn up. His father had mentioned including Shane in the will. The thought of his father actually doing that grated at his nerves.

How could his father be so foolish as to include a dead man in his will?

Again Josh would be in competition with the

ghost of his brother. As far as Josh was concerned, his brother would remain a ghost. Forever!

''Enough talk about illnesses and dead brothers," Terrance said, visibly shuddering. "It's too pretty a day to be so morbid." He shook his head as he looked at Melanie. "I guess there's no talking you out of coming with us, is there?"

"Not on your life," Melanie said, stubbornly lifting her chin.

"Then let's be on our way," Terrance said, sinking the heels of his boots into the flanks of his black stallion. "Just don't stray from us, Melanie. I'd hate like hell to have to go and rescue you from a renegade Injun."

Ill and wasting away with tuberculosis, Jared Brennan trembled beneath his blankets with each painful breath. Mike Green, his attorney, sat at Jared's bedside, taking down everything that Jared instructed.

Then Mike paused and looked questioningly at Jared. "Jared, don't you think it's a bit foolish to include Shane in your will?" he asked in a low voice. "Surely you have accepted Shane's death by now. After you discovered the massacre that day, and Shane's disappearance, you searched everywhere for him. There's never been any indication that he's still alive." He cleared his throat nervously. "Be sensible, Jared. You have only one surviving son. Josh should be the only one mentioned in this will."

Jared glared at Mike. "I pay you well," he said,

stopping to inhale a shaky breath. "You write what I tell you."

"But Jared, this time you must listen to reason," Mike argued.

Jared lifted a bony hand from beneath the warmth of the blanket and pointed a trembling finger at Mike. "Either you do it my way or not at all," he said, his face flushed with anger. "There are more attorneys in St. Paul now than you can shake a stick at. I'll just have Josh find me someone who doesn't ask questions, who does as he is told and earns his pay because of it."

Mike sighed deeply. He nodded. "Whatever you say, I'll do," he said. "No need to get yourself all worked up. I just wanted to help."

"I don't need that kind of help," Jared sputtered as a sudden seizure of coughing overwhelmed him. He coughed until his face turned blue, then stopped, exhausted. He closed his eyes and panted for breath.

Mike laid his note pad aside and wrung a washcloth out in a basin of water, then sponged Jared's sweaty brow with it. "I'll write up the will just as you've instructed," he said in a soothing tone of voice. "It will state that half of all you possess goes to Shane if he ever shows up to claim it."

"Yes, that's what I want," Jared said hoarsely. "Until my son's body is brought before me, I will consider Shane to be alive. And if he is, he deserves everything that I've set aside for him. It's the least I can do after letting him down the day of

the massacre. Damn. If only I could have gotten back to him that day. If only the rapids in that damn river hadn't complicated everything. Perhaps no one would have died. His mother would still be alive. Shane would be here as healthy and happy as Josh. It's all my fault, Mike. All my fault."

Mike continued bathing Jared's brow, acting now as a friend, not a lawyer. "Jared, there wasn't anything you could do about those rapids," he said, having heard the tale repeated over and over again. "You did what you had to do. You had to take your boat from the river and carry it past the worst of the rapids. You know how long that took. There was no way of knowing the other boat was in trouble."

"But it shouldn't have taken me or anyone else so long to realize that something was amiss when we stopped and began waiting for them. I recall being so tired," Jared said with a sob. "I was enjoying that time of rest before we ventured onward in the water again. I was selfish, Mike. Selfish! While I was resting, my wife was being slain. My son was being abducted. I can hardly bear to think of it now."

"Yes, I know," Mike said, dropping the cloth in the water and taking Jared's hand to comfort him. "The way you found your wife must haunt you something terrible. But you must stop blaming yourself. You've lived a lifetime of regret. Try to spend your remaining days in peace. Please, Jared. You deserve so much more than you have allowed

yourself. You cannot turn time back now, no more than you could stop those rapids that interfered with your life that day. Let it go, Jared. Let it go."

Jared looked wild-eyed up at Mike. He clasped his friend's hand hard. "Just make sure that Shane gets his fair share," he said, tears spilling from his eyes. "Do that for me, will you, Mike?"

Mike nodded. "You know that I will," he said. He watched Jared's washed-out blue eyes close as he fell into a restless sleep. He eased his hands from Jared's and went to gaze out the bedroom window. He looked toward the neighboring farm and watched three horsemen riding down the dusty lane. He leaned closer to the window, correcting his thoughts. The riders weren't all men. One was a lady, more than likely Melanie Stanton.

But one of the two men was Josh. God. How was Josh going to take the wording of this will? It would be humiliating, but no more humiliating than having to live under the shadow of a long-lost brother all these years.

Though Mike did not care much for Josh, he could not help but pity him.

Chapter Two