Seven

There he was.

After nearly a week, Warren finally had the chance he’d been waiting for. Eli was back in town to fetch the horse.

Warren snatched up the bag he’d had prepared for days now, then grabbed his coat and a few other essentials. If all went well, he would come back for the rest of his belongings. And if he didn’t make it back, well, so be it. Nothing he was leaving behind held any particular meaning for him.

He left the boarding house with determined strides, his feet crunching in the snow and gravel as he made his way down the road to the back of the livery. It was the day before Christmas and the town was mostly closed up. Only a few people could be seen rushing about on last-minute errands.

Eli must have left the outlaw’s valley before dawn to get to town as early as it was. Which meant he most likely intended to head back today.

Warren quickened his steps until he reached the back entrance of the livery stables.

He could hear some shuffling about inside as horses scuffed their hooves in their stalls. There was no conversation, suggesting to Warren that if the livery owner had been there when Eli arrived, he wasn’t anymore.

Warren spotted the outlaw in the last stall. The horse he’d ridden into town stood in the narrow alley between the rows of stalls as he readied the one he’d come to collect.

With a long, steadying breath much like the one he employed before starting a particularly tricky surgery, Warren stepped into the stables and aimed the barrel of his recently purchased Colt revolver at the outlaw.

“Be sure to get that saddle nice and secure. I don’t want any accidents on the ride into the mountains.”

Eli didn’t even flinch at Warren’s interruption. He just tilted his head to get him in view, then went back to saddling the horse as he hissed a drawn out, “Sheee-it.” After another minute, while Warren stood still and silent, Eli glanced back at him with a jeering grin. “You even know how to use that, Doc?”

Warren knew how to use a gun; his uncle had made sure of it that summer in Montana. He hadn’t done any target practice in years, but then, he didn’t actually intend to shoot anyone. He just needed to provide a bit of incentive to ensure his wishes were followed.

“What are the chances I would miss what I’m aiming for at this range?” he asked calmly in response.

Eli eyed the gun with a bit more wariness. “What do you want?”

“You are taking me back with you.”

Eli tipped his hat back on his head, then scratched at his beard. “That’s what I figured.” He gave Warren a contemplative look. “You plan on hurting anyone?”

“Of course not,” Warren answered automatically before he realized his admittance basically negated the threat of the weapon in his hand. Still, he didn’t lower it.

If Eli refused, he’d just have to find another way.

“Put your gun away, Doc,” Eli said with a heavy sigh of reluctance. “I’ll take you.”

Elation rushed through Warren, but he eyed the outlaw with distrust. This had been easier than he’d expected. “Why?”

The other man led the gelding from his stall, then turned to mount his own pinto before he looked down at Warren. “Luke might put a bullet in me for it, but I’d be more afraid that Honey’d shoot to kill if she found out I refused you.”

The muscles down Warren’s spine tightened. “She has been upset?”

Eli laughed. “You might say that. The woman has been spinning around camp like a tornado. She seems to find work wherever she goes—and she’s been giving plenty of it to us.”

Warren frowned. “That doesn’t exactly indicate she wants me to come back.”

“Look, Doc, I grew up with eight females. That’s six sisters, my ma, and an aunt. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that they all got their own way of working through their emotions, and it ain’t necessarily what you’d expect. I’d bet anything that the reason Honey’s been going loco over these holiday preparations has more to do with your surprise appearance than anything else.”

“Why would you agree to take me back if my appearance is what got her so upset?”

“The way I figure, if she didn’t care about you, she’d’ve put you from her mind as soon as you left. The fact that she didn’t tells me there’s something unfinished between you two. I don’t see getting any peace at camp until it’s settled.” Eli shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t have no pa growing up. Seems to me that little girl deserves to have hers.”

Warren stared hard at the man, wanting to trust him.

The outlaw stared back, unconcerned. “Are you getting on that horse, or what?”

Warren slid the Colt back into its holster on his hip. The weight of it felt strange, but he figured he’d have to get used to it, if he managed to convince Honey to give him a chance. After securing his bags to the saddle, he mounted the gelding and followed Eli from the stables.

“You are not going to blindfold me?”

Eli shrugged. “Nah.”

Warren was really starting to like the man.

There had been two more snowfalls since the storm on the night he’d tended to Luke, and everything was covered in fluffy, pristine white. The late-morning sun shone brightly in a clear, pale sky. The air was still frigid and crisp, but there was no wind, and the snow sparkled in the sunlight.

Warren would have enjoyed the beauty of the landscape they crossed if he weren’t so occupied by thoughts of what he would face when he saw Honey again. Everything—his future, his happiness, his heart—depended upon what happened when he reached his destination. Warren’s mind ran obsessively through every possible variable and outcome. Though Eli attempted some casual chitchat, he was soon forced to accept Warren’s nonreceptiveness and gave up.

A few hours later, they were making their way through a narrow pass between the mountains. The atmosphere grew shadowed and silent as they traversed this last stretch, and anticipation was like a flickering flame in Warren’s blood. Finally the pass took a turn and opened up to the outlaws’ valley.

Smoke drifted from the stone chimney of the longhouse, which was located near the center of the valley where it was widest. Fresh pine boughs had been hung along the porch railing, with a giant red bow tied festively at every post. Forest-covered mountains rose up on each side and formed a backdrop in the far distance behind. The scene was stark in its beauty yet welcoming.

A casual observer would never suspect the place housed a group of outlaws. Especially if they heard the burst of childish laughter and saw the small figure emerge from the tree line to the west to tumble head over heels down the snowy hill.

Warren’s hands tightened on his reins, drawing his horse to a halt as he watched the scene with a sort of terrified awe spreading through his chest.

The girl came to rest at the base of the hill and immediately jumped to her feet to start the long trek back up. She wore several layered skirts and heavy boots. Her coat was thick sheepskin, buttoned up to the woolen shawl that covered her head and wrapped about her neck. Mittens protected her hands as she scooped handfuls of snow and threw them up into the air.

Warren tensed when the girl slipped back out of sight into the trees.

But a moment later, her laughter pealed again as she tumbled back down the hill. This time, she was followed by her mother, carrying a large basket in her arms as she rushed along with long strides and a soft laugh.

When Honey reached the girl, she said something Warren couldn’t hear and the child took off for the longhouse.

That was when Honey looked up to see Warren and Eli atop their horses half the distance from the pass. Eli had stopped when Warren did and silently sat his horse a few steps behind him, as though waiting for Warren to make a move.

He couldn’t.

If someone had asked, he would have readily admitted his trepidation as Honey stared at him across an expanse of sparkling white snow, their daughter’s laughter still dancing in the crisp air. A daughter Warren hadn’t known about until a week ago. A daughter Honey had given birth to and raised on her own.

That truth—the fact that he hadn’t been there for either of them—filled Warren with a regret unlike anything he’d known. He could excuse his absence and say that he hadn’t known about the baby. Hadn’t known that the letter had been a lie. That he had spent the last years feeling as betrayed as she had.

But all he could feel was guilt and sadness.

He should have gone back anyway. He should have fought for her, done everything he could to win her back from Freeman. Then he would have seen the lie. And the last six years could have been so different for both of them.

He didn’t regret his training as a doctor. His chosen path fulfilled him in ways that were personal and deep. But he could have done it with the woman he loved—and their daughter—at his side.

Honey stood staring at him for a long moment. She was too far away for him to read her expression, but he could see the tension in her body and he could imagine what she might be thinking and feeling. Then she hefted the basket she carried higher in her arms before she turned to continue on to the longhouse.

Only once she was in the building and out of sight did Warren release a full breath.

At least she hadn’t drawn a gun on him this time.

“You’re not gonna chicken out, are you?”

Warren frowned at Eli, who sat hunched forward in his saddle with his forearms resting on the saddle horn. The man wore an amused little grin that annoyed the hell out of Warren just then, but before he could reply, the outlaw laughed and nudged his horse forward.

“Come on, Doc. Let’s stable these horses and get inside where it’s warm.”

They rode around behind the longhouse to where a nice-sized stable was tucked in along the tree line opposite from where Honey had emerged. Warren hadn’t even noticed the building on his last visit and was surprised by its size and the number of horses already inside.

“Just how many men are housed here?” he asked as they brushed down their mounts after getting them fresh water and grain.

“At any given time, not too many.”

Warren wasn’t sure if the man’s answer was intentionally evasive, or if that was just his manner. He was getting the sense Eli was a bit more complex than he’d first appeared.

“You’ll see most of the gang today, though. Honey’s been prepping for this holiday feast for weeks.”

His comments reminded Warren to take care with his bags as he hefted them onto his shoulder and followed Eli to the longhouse.

He had no idea what he’d face inside. If Honey had told Luke he was here, it was possible he’d be walking into a room full of guns pointed his way and an outlaw army ready to escort him right back the way he’d come.

Eli muttered a quick “Good luck” beneath his breath. Apparently, he wasn’t too sure of Warren’s welcome either.

* * *

To Warren’s relief, no one drew their gun when he stepped into the front room.

About a dozen men were gathered. Most of them hadn’t noticed him yet, or if they had, they weren’t acknowledging his presence.

Jackson stood by the fireplace with two other men and gave Warren a shallow nod as Eli led him in. In his company was a short, wiry fellow with salt-and-pepper hair, and a tall, lanky kid in possession of a baby face that hadn’t grown any whiskers yet. They both cast curious glances toward Warren but seemed to take their cue from Jackson and continued with their conversation.

Four men of various ages, one of them with a shock of red hair and a deep rolling laugh, sat at a table playing poker. Behind them, a large man of native blood stood alone and silent, watching the game from his position beside the front door, his thickly muscled arms crossed over his chest. He made a striking image with his bronzed skin, straight black hair plaited into two long braids, and deep-set eyes. He cast a calm, assessing glance at Warren before shifting his attention back to the poker game.

Luke, however, was a different story.

Honey’s twin was seated in one of the armchairs placed near the fire. He shouldn’t have been up and about yet, but he showed no signs that the wound had taken a turn. Warren was relieved until he saw the animosity in Luke’s eyes. At least the outlaw’s gun stayed in its holster and his hands stayed calmly on the armrests of the chair, one of them curled around a glass of spirits.

Warren wondered if Honey had told him what Freeman had done. If she had, apparently Luke had not made up his mind about Warren just yet.

Only then did Warren allow himself to look toward Honey, bustling about in the kitchen area. He’d been avoiding meeting her eyes, afraid of what he’d see there.

He needn’t have worried.

Honey stood stirring a large cast-iron pot set on the wood-burning stove, turning every now and then to toss a bit of instruction to one of the two men who had apparently been assigned as her helpers. She wore an apron over a red dress trimmed in ivory lace, and her golden hair was twisted and pinned atop her head. After giving Warren a brief glance, she returned her attention to the pot she was stirring on the stove. Dinner preparations were going all out. One of the men, a stocky white-haired fellow with a deeply lined face, had an apron tied about his waist and a wide grin as he enthusiastically kneaded some dough on the kitchen counter. The other man sat in a chair, peeling potatoes and wearing an expression much like a schoolboy enduring punishment.

Now that he knew he wasn’t immediately going to be run off, Warren figured he could allow her time to adjust to his presence. She wasn’t the only person he was there to see, after all.

Honey’s daughter—the only other female in sight—skipped out from one of the hallways and started weaving in and out of the men with a smile of delight and a twinkle in her eye.

She danced about in a pretty blue dress with white lace, her dark hair woven into a long braid with a bright blue bow tied at the end. He felt the tug of a smile on his lips when she made her way to the poker game and hovered behind one of the players for a couple of minutes before she pointed to his cards and whispered something in his ear.

Whatever she said made the man laugh out loud before she flitted off again.

The scene was joyous and festive. Delicious smells of savory cooking and mulled spices filled the air. An evergreen Christmas tree stood in a corner opposite the fireplace. It was dressed with dried cranberries and popcorn threaded on long strands, angels fashioned out of bits of cloth, paper snowflakes, and dozens of tiny, flickering candles. The long dinner table had been covered by a red plaid tablecloth, and fresh pine boughs interspersed with pine cones and red ribbon formed a fragrant centerpiece on the table.

In the kitchen, various pies were lined up on one end of the counter next to the basket Honey had been carrying across the valley when he’d arrived. He could see now that it held several loaves of bread and some jars of what looked to be homemade taffy.

A lot of effort had been put into making the holiday gathering festive and bright.

Warren glanced toward Honey again and caught her gaze quickly sliding away. She had been watching him. He wanted to talk to her, take her somewhere private and say all the things that had been circling in his brain for the last week.

But it wasn’t time yet, and this wasn’t the place.

He lowered his bags and set them against the wall. When he straightened, his heart jolted at the sight of his daughter standing in front of him with wide eyes that matched his and a curious tilt of her head.

“You were here before,” she declared. “When Uncle Luke was hurt.”

Warren crouched down, bringing his face more in line with hers. Such a beautiful face. A pert little chin and gentle brow, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Though she had his eyes and his dark hair, the rest of her features were her mother’s—except for there, in the turn of her mouth. That curious little curve with the barely suppressed hint of mischief was entirely reminiscent of Warren’s younger sister, Evie.

Seeing that made him smile as he replied, “Yes, I am the doctor who treated him.”

“He is all better now,” she said with a wave at the man in question.

Warren glanced up to see Luke was still watching. He nodded to him and brought his attention back to the girl in front of him.

“So why are you here now?” she asked. “Have you come to celebrate with us? Tomorrow is Christmas, you know.”

“That is exactly why I am here.” Warren took a chance in saying the rest, but he wanted to be sure he was honest in his intention from the start, especially with this child. “I was friends with your mother and your uncle many years ago. I would like to be friends with them again.”

She considered that for a bit. Her eyes narrowed in thought. Then she glanced back at her mother, who was laughing with the white-haired man in the apron. Honey’s quick glance in their direction proved she knew exactly whom her daughter was speaking to at that moment. That she didn’t come over to draw the girl away gave Warren hope.

“It would be nice if you and I could be friends as well,” he ventured.

The girl looked back to him with a smile brightening her face. “Mama always says that friends are the family you get to choose. We have a lot of friends,” she said with an impulsive open-armed spin that made it look as though she were giving a swift hug to the entire room.

“I would love to have another,” she said when she came to a stop again. Then she held out her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Stella, what is yours?”

The name immediately brought to mind a memory from that summer long ago. He and Honey had slipped out of town in the middle of the night to find a quiet patch of earth beside a slow-moving stream. It had been a beautiful night, filled with love and hope. Forever had stretched out before them like the endless night sky. They’d lain side by side in the grass with her head on his shoulder and their fingers interlocked as they stared up at the blanket of summer stars overhead, and he’d told her the Latin word for each of the shining points of light. Stella.

“My name is Warren Reed,” he said finally, his throat tight as he took his daughter’s small fingers in his. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Stella.”

She smiled and gave his hand a vigorous, heartfelt shake. “There,” she said, “now we’re friends.”