Chapter Seventeen

Faith looked up from the nurses’ station where she made notations on a patient’s chart and saw Michael Cavelli let himself out of Theo’s room and carefully close the door. He looked exceptionally weary around the eyes yet wonderful at the same time. She wondered if he would always have this effect on her, though after Rafe’s recovery she would likely see the last of the Cavellis. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on the doorknob before he looked up and made eye contact. She couldn’t read his expression and then—Oh, dear—he walked straight toward her with a determined stride.

She hoped first names were still acceptable, since she’d been less than courteous on the telephone yesterday.

“Hello, Michael,” she said as he came to a halt. She rounded the desk to set her clipboard on the counter. He always seemed to take up most of the available space in her personal sphere, so she took a step backward.

“Faith.”

His eyes skimmed over her face. She wondered how this man always managed to disrupt her train of thought, her equilibrium, and her very ability to function. She found it hard to breath, much less speak. He looked so solid, so dependable. So male. Her heart rate increased until she was sure anyone passing by could hear it pounding in her chest.

Lordy, this would never do. She put on her most professional face. She hoped she didn’t sound like some silly Sheba with a mouth full of cotton. There must be a perfectly reasonable medical explanation for her symptoms. She’d have to look it up.

“I’m glad to see you’re back,” she said.

“And not a moment too soon, if the events of the last twenty-four hours are any indication.” His eyes lowered to the red marks on her wrists. “They hurt you,” he said evenly.

“No, not really.” She pulled down the cuffs of her white uniform.

He grasped her hand and ran a fingertip over the angry welts. “I’ve been told I’m indebted to you and your brother,” he said stiffly, “for the assistance you gave my family last night.” He shifted uncomfortably and dropped his hands to his sides. “I was afraid… I mean, violence can…affect a person. I wanted to see for myself that you were able to put it behind you.”

Faith watched his jaw set against the rising temper. She tried a weak smile. “Rafe did most of the hard work.”

He pulled her into the small visitors lounge nearby. “I don’t tolerate an attack on what’s mine. The men responsible will be found and dealt with.” He released the tight grip he had on her hand. “You’ll keep me informed of your whereabouts at all times. No impromptu plans or travel. Someone will accompany you whenever you need to leave Bellaluna.”

“I know you feel responsible, but I have a life outside of the Cavellis, Michael.” He seemed to be hanging on by a mere thread.

“Don’t argue,” he ground out. “You have no one to protect you.”

Her patience snapped. “Who protects the poor in slums where scarlet fever, influenza, and typhoid still rage? I’m a doctor, a female doctor. I’ve faced men who have called me immoral, indecent, and unsexed. I earn half the salary a male doctor earns and get to work twice the hours,” she hissed. “What happened last night was a walk in the park compared to my life here. Don’t coddle me, Cavelli. I don’t need it.” She spun to walk away.

He grabbed her arm, then thought better of it and released her, shoving his hands into his pockets. His silver eyes flared. She figured the quelling look had probably stopped many a man in his tracks. He wasn’t the kind of man you crossed, at least not if you had time to think about it.

“I want a word with you later. Please,” he added to sugarcoat the direct order. “Will you be home for supper?”

Faith hesitated. Did she think of Bellaluna as her home now? Michael had never alluded to anything permanent with her, and why should he? He could look higher than a fledgling physician when and if he chose to remarry. She was definitely losing her grip on reality. A home, marriage, children—not in the picture for her.

She sighed. “I’ll be off in time for supper, but who is cooking, with Gwen gone?”

“Anna does a fine job in the kitchen. She’s filling in until Theo’s out of the woods.” He glanced back at Theo’s door and the steeliness returned—in his eyes, in his posture. “Would you give me a quick update on Theo?”

“The broken leg and arm are the worst of it. The rest looks bad but none of the wounds are life-threatening.” She sighed ruefully. “In a way, he was lucky. I know it sounds terrible to say that, but it could have been substantially worse. He’ll need a long recovery, but I think he’s scheduled to be released in five or six more days.”

“Then I…we…will need you more than ever, Faith. I would like to have a word with you later.”

The tone of his voice and the manner in which he shifted uneasily told her he was uncomfortable with what he had to say to her. Maybe didn’t know how to broach the subject. She wouldn’t make it easy for him. He was right when he said he owed her. After all, he’d stood her up, hadn’t he? The other business with the robbery, well, anyone would have done that.

“We have a family crisis. A new member of the family.”

“You’re razzing me. When did this happen? Did I miss something,” she asked, “or is it another ghost?”

Michael actually chuckled. “No, a long-lost brother. I’ll explain later,” he said. “You’ll meet him at supper if you’re there.”

He reached for her hand and covered it gently with both of his. Faith looked down at their entwined fingers and back at him. How could he make her heart race by simply touching her hand?

“I don’t know what happened to make our…involvement uncomfortable, Faith, but I would like to go back to where we were before. Would you save some time for me after supper? I’d like to discuss a few ideas with you.”

“Ideas?” Faith smiled. Only Michael Cavelli would put discussing an affair in those terms. “Sure, I’ll see you then.”

She felt his eyes on her backside as she walked away.

****

Tessia looked up at the sound of a booted foot on gravel. The large, good-looking man who had come home with her brother approached. He had the swagger to accompany the worn black Stetson circled with a gleaming silver band. At first the man’s face was heavily shadowed by the broad brim of his hat, but when he tipped it back slightly in a greeting, she could see the attractive planes of a face that knew the sun.

Tess smiled. “Hello.”

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said, glancing at the animals in her small menagerie.

Tess brushed at her skirts to dust off the dirt from the fenced-in area on the back lot. “I usually get help, but we’re short-handed right now. Amos and his crew are dealing with another problem. Are you here on business with Michael?”

The man smiled wryly and rested his elbows on the rough cedar of the fence. He propped a booted foot on the bottom rail. “I guess you could say that.” He tilted the hat back more and looked at her with a peculiar expression. “You must be Tessia. Michael’s sister.”

“Yes, I am.” Tessia hauled a bag of feed from her wheelbarrow onto the ground and cut it open swiftly with a small knife she pulled from a leather sheath secured around her waist. She opened the gate and started to drag the feed bag into the corral.

“Whoa, let me help you with that,” the man said as he took the bag handily and dumped it into the feed trough.

The bunched muscles under his shirt flexed with the effort. Tessia noticed the lean body and the gleaming glint of blue eyes that crinkled at the corners of his tan face when he smiled.

“You’re Mr. Walker?” Tessia inquired.

He brushed off his hand on the leg of his trousers and held it out. “Tylus Walker. Ty, ma’am.”

Tessia took his hand firmly and cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker.” She found herself a bit nervous. She was never nervous around men. She rarely gave them any thought at all, but the man held himself well, and the sound of his voice was a combination of a growl and slathers of honey. He didn’t drool on his shirt or trip over his own two feet—a pleasant change.

Michael had been evasive. Something to do with the dairy, perhaps? She wouldn’t embarrass herself by prying. She’d wait until Michael informed the family at supper tonight.

Walker started to respond just as Matilda the pig, a small, undernourished donkey, and a miniature pony with one ear and various scars on its back approached warily.

Tessia bent over the water pump and primed the well, pumping cool water into a trough. “Want to help?” she asked.

“You mean there are more?”

Tessia laughed. “These are only a few of the larger animals. The rest are in the hospital.” She pointed to a whitewashed building on the outskirts of the lot and strode briskly toward the building.

“Sure,” Ty said as he hurried to catch up with her. “Got any horses? I’m pretty good with horses.”

****

Michael glanced down the long length of the dining room table at those who gathered there. Faith had called to inform Anna that she wouldn’t be home until after nine o’clock. The uncles were on one end of the grand table, Anna, Jake, and Tessia in the middle, and his brothers on his end, with Rafe and Gabe across from Ty. The children and Seth had been excused to enjoy a Dixie Cup in the kitchen.

If Gabe’s sullen attitude was an indication of what the family’s response would be to Ty, this wouldn’t go well. Maybe he should have told them about Walker before he left for Kentucky. Hell, how could he have done that without knowing what he’d find out? He never allowed himself to doubt his decisions, probably because he never made a decision without thinking it through first. Unless, of course, it involved his volatile family, and the only way to deal with them was with cold, calculating logic. He cleared his throat and waited for the conversation to cease.

“I’ve introduced Tylus Walker to all of you. What I haven’t told you is what his relationship is to this family.” He paused and leaned back in his seat to rest his elbows on the arms of the chair. He glanced over the attentive faces. “I believe Tylus Walker to be our half-brother.”

Tessia gasped into her napkin and rose out of her chair. “What on earth do you mean, Michael? Half-brother? How can that be?”

Tess was slack-jawed, her usual composure gone, not even one half-assed obscenity to be found in her speech, and her voice had a tremulous quality to it.

“I’m sorry, Tess, I wanted to meet Ty first before I approached any of you. Before she died, our mother asked me to look into the situation, and I concurred with her wishes.”

Visibly shaken, Tessia pushed back from the table. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said as she held a napkin against her mouth and dashed from the room.

Michael tilted his head toward Anna, who left to attend to her sister without a backward glance at her newfound brother.

“How do you know he’s not just a no-account lunkhead?” Meg yelled from around the dining room’s pocket doors. She raced up the staircase after her aunts.

Michael sighed and smiled wryly at Walker. “Well, that went well. Anyone for brandy?” he asked, glancing around at the grim male faces left at the table.

Michael poured several small crystal glasses of the rich illegal liquid from a crystal decanter on the sideboard and handed one to each of the men. He rolled the brandy glass between his palms and inhaled the heady fumes as he contemplated the current problem.

It was difficult to know how to handle an issue involving the diverse personalities of his unpredictable family. Over the years he’d gotten very good at it, but with Ty Walker, it wasn’t just about making room for another Cavelli at the family table. Ty changed the very image his siblings had of their father, made them doubt their relationship with him in the light of this great secret. Why hadn’t his father confided in him long before his death? He should have asked Maryanne why his father had felt it necessary to keep the truth from his children.

He took a sip of the brandy and lowered the glass to the table. “Father met a woman, Ty’s mother, Sadie Walker, after my birth mother died and before he met Maryanne. I don’t know all the circumstances, but it looks like Sadie conceived a child and then left town. She never contacted Father to tell him of the child. He learned of her pregnancy when he found Sadie’s parents. They disowned her after they learned of the child she carried. Sadie relocated somewhere else, and there she eventually met and married Ty’s stepfather, Tom Hartford.”

Michael sipped the liquid, letting it warm a path to his stomach, and absently rolled the glass between his large hands. “Father searched for Sadie for years, up until his death and even after, at his request, through his lawyer. Just before Maryanne died she received a call from the investigator Father’s lawyer had employed. He’d finally located Sadie’s son in Kentucky.” Michael gestured toward Ty with his glass. He rose and walked to the french doors that led to the formal gardens.

Several conversations buzzed behind him, voices undulating, sometimes in anger, sometimes shooting rapid-fire questions at Ty, who answered them in a candid way. After a time the voices cooled and ceased, leaving a lull fraught with anxiety.

When Michael turned back to the group, all eyes were on him. He rubbed the back of his neck. When had his life gotten so complicated? Next chance he got, he’d go to his gym on Fourth Street. Pounding on a bag filled with sawdust always helped to get a man back to feeling like himself again.

“Maybe we should sleep on this,” he said softly.

“And maybe we should practice the minuet,” Gabe snarled. “I, for one, don’t believe any part of this malarkey. It’s just a ploy to get Cavelli money.”

Ty slammed his glass down on the table, and the brandy sloshed out on the tablecloth. “Anytime you feel like doing something other than batting your gums, little brother, just say the word.”

Gabe grinned and started toward Ty. Bruno slid between the two men and separated them with his trunk-like forearms. “No! Fratellos ora, no combattente!” He easily spread the men apart. Bruno looked at Michael for direction.

“Hell, he can’t keep his eyes off Tess! Doesn’t that prove he’s not her brother?” Gabe barked.

“Calm down, Gabe,” Rafe said from his wheelchair. He looked at Ty. “I don’t know who you are, but I do know my father wouldn’t have lied about this.” He studied Ty’s face. “Other than the hair, you don’t look much like him.” He wheeled the chair around. “Michael, do we have all the facts? Is there proof positive?”

Michael poured himself another brandy. “I intend to find out more, but for now, I owe Ty my thanks for agreeing to come here. He didn’t come looking for us, Gabe. Liam and I went looking for him.”

Gabe raked a hand through his hair, then shoved the hand into his pocket.

“He’s taken time from his ranch to come and meet all of us. Father and Maryanne would want us to show him the same respect and courtesy we would offer any guest in our home.” He glanced at Walker and saw a rather mollified expression on his face. “If you would leave Ty and me alone now, I would appreciate it.”

Several tense moments passed before the Cavelli males finally shuffled out of the room, leaving him alone with Walker.

“I’m sorry, Ty, but their reaction is understandable.”

Walker grunted a response. “As for your sister…”

“Our sister,” Michael corrected.

“Sure, okay. Our sister. Well, she’s pretty easy on the eyes. I guess I was…just surprised, back at the depot, that she might be related to me.” He sat down and dabbed at the spilled brandy with a napkin. “It won’t happen again.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Any man with one good eye…” he muttered.

Michael swallowed the remainder of his drink and placed the crystal glass on the table. “If you’ll excuse me now, I have to attend to some business.”

“If I can be of some help with your friend Theo, I’m in.” Ty stood and turned to leave. “I saw plenty of Klan violence back home. Can’t stand the local Kleagle. Arrogant, mean bastard. Most of those Klan members enjoy the violence. Use the Klan as an excuse to bully people. Just say the word.” He nodded and closed the dining room pocket doors behind him.

Michael sat heavily in his chair. Under other circumstances, he would have been drawn to the quiet, solid strength of Tylus Walker. There was something reliable and ingenuous about the man, someone with whom he wouldn’t mind doing business. A man of his word.

But, as usual, Gabe was right with his quick assessment of the situation. The family couldn’t have a relationship with Tylus Walker if he was attracted to Tess, and if Ty was really his brother, how would he fit into the Cavelli family?

Right now, dealing with the Klan would almost seem simple, he mused.

****

Anna stroked her sister’s golden mane as Tessia sniffled into her pillow. “You know how I feel about Jake, Anna. I’m jealous of your love for each other.” Tessia blew her nose heartily into a dainty handkerchief. “God really has a warped sense of humor. The only man who has caught my eye in…well, ever…turns out to be my brother!”

Anna chuckled. “I admit it does seem a bit unfair, Tess, but look at the bright side…” She hesitated, eyeing her sister’s anxious face. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be a bright side. Sorry, dear, but it does make one realize that at least everything is in working condition, if you know what I mean.”

“Great! I’m finally boiling over with hormones, and he’s just another cod-brained brother!” She shoved the hankie into the sleeve of her blouse and flopped back onto the pillow.

Anna laughed at her sullen expression. “I don’t mean to laugh, sweetie, but you have the same expression on your face when you can’t get Michael to increase the funding for your zoo.” She patted Tess’s hand. “Do whatever it takes to get control of your feelings, sweetheart. You can’t have Tylus Walker thinking you’ve a tendre for him. He’s my brother, too, and here I thought I had all the brothers I needed.” She stood. “At least you didn’t fall in love with him before you found out he was related,” she said as she went out the door.

Tessia sniffed and rolled over on her side.