Chapter Ten
Clayton watched his gun launch into the air. His mind was processing a million different scenarios but only one outcome came to the forefront of his mind and it wasn’t a good one.
He moved closer to the other man but Jack had backed up and pushed his gun between him and Clayton. Clayton extended his hand out and snapped the front of the gun away just before it went off.
"Change," Jo's voice came from his right. Jo. He'd been out of his mind with panic when he'd heard the gunshots when he'd heard her scream.
He’d fallen asleep at his desk somewhere in the wee hours of the morning. An empty glass decanter next to his hand. He’d woken to the sound of a gunshot but thought it had been a bad dream. It wasn’t until he’d heard the front door clang that he realized it hadn’t been a dream. Clayton had grabbed the gun he kept safely in his desk and gone after her.
It was the first time Clayton’s instincts had kept him a man rather than barreling out as his grizzly self. He wasn’t sure why but he wanted to put a stop to Jack Henderson, to Bradley Saunders, once and for all and to do it as a man.
Now, he wasn’t so sure. Clayton moved in, throwing his right fist, making contact with Jack’s face. He heard a crunch under his fist and felt bone breaking.
Jack swung the butt of the gun around again and landed it on Clayton’s left temple. He saw black for a moment before his vision came sharply into focus again.
“Clayton, watch out,” Jo yelled. He could hear the panic and fear in her voice. He knew Jack was raising his gun again. He knew that in a moment the sound of it would crack loudly. He knew it was only a matter of moments and he knew that he wanted to spend those moments looking at her.
Clayton turned his eyes to Jo. His eyes told her what his mouth had not been able to the night before. He loved her. He needed her. He wanted her.
His heart beat for her, his life longed for her.
Tears were running down Jo’s face.
“I know,” Jo mouthed the two words just before he heard the explosive crack of gun fire.
It was a long moment and Clayton was still staring at Jo’s face. Her expression slowly changed and then she smiled.
He hadn’t been hit, he felt the air in his lungs, he was still alive.
Jo shifted her gaze and she was looking beyond Clayton her attention newly absorbed Clayton turned slowly to see Jack. The other man was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, one shot had gone straight to his chest.
Swinging around again he looked for the shooter.
Standing in all his tidy glory was Lincoln. Still in his nightclothes, with an elegant robe and slippers, he was holding a rifle in both hands and looked like something out of Mother Goose. Lincoln stared at Jack, sprawled out on the ground.
“Lincoln?” Clayton could barely breathe. He had no idea the older man even knew how to use a gun.
“Sir,” Lincoln looked up at Clayton, his face white. The man looked unsettled. This certainly was not something he did every day. “It has been twenty years that I have regretted not being there to save your father. It brings me the greatest joy to be able to do the honor for you.”
Clayton gave a throaty laugh of relief. He felt tears sting his eyes but he pushed them back down.
“Thank you, Lincoln.” Clayton understood that it was useless to tell the man that he wasn’t to blame, that there was nothing he could have done to protect his father. Clayton had felt the same things. Even though he was only a boy he’d thought that he should have been able to protect his family, to save those he loved the most. But they’d all slipped away, straight through his fingers, like sand through a sieve.
"It is my pleasure, sir." Lincoln dipped his graying head and pulled his gun under his arm. "I called the police a few minutes ago and I believe they will be arriving shortly—I think I will just go to meet them at the house."
Clayton nodded. There was so much he wanted to say but nothing came out.
“Perhaps you should attend to the lady,” Lincoln looked at Jo before turning and walking back into the trees.
Clayton turned to Jo who was just getting to her feet. They walked toward each other and stopped with two feet between them.
Jo’s face was dripping tears. Her feet were covered in blood, her body scratched and bruised. She looked beautiful.
"You're alive," she looked at him as if she required more proof.
Clayton nodded, “So are you.”
Jo laughed.
"For a moment there, when I heard the shots before I knew… I thought…" he trailed off. The hopelessness of that thought, the terror he'd seen, the future without her in it was too much to endure.
Jo put a finger to his lips and moved forward, “I know.”
“I love you, Jo. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t live without you.” His voice was husky and low, thick with emotion.
Clayton walked forward and took Jo in his arms. His lips met hers. He could taste the salty tears in her mouth, then kissed her eyes and cheeks. Her body felt perfect in his arms. She belonged with him.
Jo smiled, “Let’s go home.”
Home. She’d called his house home. He’d never heard anything so good in his life.
Three months later Clayton was standing by the door of his house.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He looked nervously at the luggage being taken out of the house and into the waiting car. He’d hired a driver to take them to the airport and given Lincoln a long holiday so he could visit his family in London.
When Lincoln arrived in London there would be another surprise. Clayton had rented out an airplane and a private island for all of the many cousins, aunts, uncles, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters that could be found in Lincoln’s family. If Lincoln was anything like Clayton then he would come back to Montana thankfully for some peace and quiet.
“Do you have your passport?” Jo put her last bag down with the others.
Clayton held up his passport.
“Good, that’s the most important thing,” she exhaled loudly.
“Aren’t you going to tell me where we’re going?” Clayton had been given a packing list of clothes and no other indication of where they were off to.
“Nope, you’ll see when we get there,” Jo clapped her hands like it was all a very fun game.
“But what if I hate it?” Clayton hadn’t left his Montana home since he’d graduated and now he was feeling more than a little trepidation.
“You won’t,” Jo kissed him on the mouth.
“But what if I do?” Clayton followed Jo out of the house with the last of the bags.
“Then you can bask in the knowledge that we will be coming back,” Jo double checked the locked door and looked up at the house. She breathed in the fresh air and smiled, “Back to our home.”
*****
THE END