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As he leaned against the porch railing of his parents’ house, Daniel pulled at the ends of his mustache and regarded the youth who stood before him. Alec had confessed his guilt, explained but not pleaded, and declared himself willing to make whatever amends were necessary. He’d promised nothing, but apologized for the the distress he’d brought to his friend. To his brother.
He has acted like a man. A man and not a boy. He understands he was wrong. He’s so proud—it’s his pride that makes him admit he was wrong.
The woodsman spoke slowly, deliberately. “I was trying to protect you, Alec. To protect you and Jesse.”
Alec’s dusky face became splotchy but his eyes didn’t waver. “I understand that now.”
“What you did to me wasn’t so bad—it was just a lack of faith. Maybe I would have felt the same if I’d been in your shoes. Maybe from your point of view, I was wrong. Maybe it would have been better for you to know right away.
“But I had to do what I thought was most important. It was a hard choice. You were in pain, I know. But Jesse wasn’t strong enough, and I had to protect her.”
“Yes. You did what I failed to do. She was my friend, too. Almost as long as you have been. And I have failed her.”
“What you’ve done to her, Alec, is infinitely worse than what you’ve done to me. And if it weren’t for that, there would be nothing between us to forgive.”
The tension in the silversmith’s face relaxed. “I don’t know if she will speak to me. And no matter what I say, it won't take away what I’ve done. I can’t change that. But if she will see me, I will apologize.”
Daniel gave him a word of caution. “Adam may not let you in.” Adam’s temper wasn’t a thing to be taken lightly. Still, his brother was a fair man, and Brian would be there to make sure no actual murder was committed. It might be a very good thing for Alec to face him—it might bring home to him just how important Jesse was to them.
“I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
Alec held out his hands. “Today I have only words.”
“You can’t buy it, Alec,” Daniel responded, looking his friend in the eye. “And if you could, she wouldn’t sell it to you.”
“I only meant to show her how much I have valued her friendship in the past.”
It was the woodsman’s turn to consider, but before he could speak, Alec added, “Perhaps if she can forgive me, I will bring her something to show my thanks.”
After some hesitation, he offered Daniel his hand, which was accepted immediately.
“I’ll go now,” the silversmith said.
He leaped onto a wiry pinto mustang and set off for the canyon. Not infrequently, the urge to turn back possessed him. He stopped for a moment to touch his father’s gates, to draw strength from them. His shoulders were just a bit squarer, his spine a bit straighter as he rode down the trail to the cabin.
He pulled his horse up and slipped from the saddle, knocked lightly on the door. The man he faced was as tall as he was, broader of shoulder, lean and hard of body. His left hand clenched, seeming to waver over the gun he didn’t wear. His voice was little more than a hiss as he demanded, “What do you want?”
“To see Jesse.”
“Haven’t you done her enough harm?” Adam’s eyes blazed blue fire.
“I have come to apologize.”
“I should horsewhip you.”
The silversmith stood his ground. “I’d like to see her first. Then you may do with me what you wish.”
“And if she doesn’t want to see you?”
“Then I will go, and I will come back when she will see me.”
Without another word Adam turned on his heel, shutting the door in Alec’s face. After several long minutes, he opened it again and stood aside, motioned for Alec to come in. As he passed, Adam gripped his arm and held it hard, pulled him in face to face. “If you hurt her again, I will horsewhip you!”
Though scarcely audible, Alec knew it wasn’t an empty threat. He approached the door to Jesse’s room and his first look at her, lying on a bed close to the fireplace, tore at his heart. He took the hand she stretched out to him, sank to his knees beside her. So small, so delicate. How could I have hurt one who is so helpless? He bent over until his forehead rested on her hand. He could find no words to say.
“Alec.” Her voice was small and breathless, and he looked up. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Jesse.” He choked on her name. “Jesse, I’m sorry.” He struggled with his breath, brought himself under control again. "I have come to apologize. Jesse, I know I’ve hurt you. I can’t explain why, except that I am a fool. I don’t ask you to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But please believe I am sorry. And that I will never be so thoughtless again." Again he had to stop and breathe. “You were my friend for many years. Please believe that I did not mean to hurt you.”
“Alec, I’m still your friend. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
“But, Jesse, I told... everyone. About Mama. About...”
“About Russell. Alec, did you do that to hurt me?”
“No!” He calmed himself with an effort. “No. On my mother’s spirit I swear to you. I did it because...”
“Because you were angry.” She completed his sentence again. Silently he nodded, swaying on his knees. “I’m glad you told. Now everyone knows. And I don’t have to worry any more about someone finding out.”
“Jesse... ” He couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. He bent down over her hand once more, kissed it fervently. He stood beside her bed for a moment, watching as her eyes fell closed. Then he turned quietly and left her.
He stood before her husband in silence. Adam gestured toward the door.
“Get out of here.” But there was no threat. Alec took one last look at the peaceful sleeping girl and left them.
Adam went back to his wife at once. He touched the fragile hand lying on the quilt and found it cold. He tucked it in and spread another afghan over the bed, but was still not satisfied. Slowly, gently, he wrapped the covers around her and lifted her in his arms. He carried her to the old rocking chair in the living room and sat with her on his lap. She murmured once, then curled in against him. Between his warmth and that of the fire, she’d be safe.
He bent his dark head over her bright one and rocked her back to sleep. Dear God, don’t let there be any more. Let this be the end. Let us deal with this pain and help her recover. Let all of us who know defend her against her fears. Make her well. Make her happy. Keep her warm. Protect her.
Brian watched from the doorway and gave his twin a look full of hope. The big man had had a long, secret talk with Daniel. He knew the woodsman blamed himself for telling Alec, though he’d only given his friend the same clue he’d given everyone else long ago. Brian guessed that there was much more Daniel hadn’t told, but he’d asked for no details, knowing he’d receive none. What his brother knew about Jesse would go to his grave with him. The only person he might confide in was Annie. And Annie can no more hurt anyone than she can fly. I trust them both.
Daniel’s mighty lucky to have her.