Chapter 12  

Clara held on for dear life as Josiah whipped the wagon around a corner and down a private drive. Bracing her feet against the front board and gripping the side of the seat with her right hand, she clutched Harrison to her chest with her left and prayed they’d somehow get to the ranch without the wagon flipping.

They raced through thick stands of trees that nearly blocked the sun. Only when the pines began to thin did Josiah rein in the frenzied horses. He lifted off the bench slightly, using his weight to bring the team under control. At the same time, he let out a piecing whistle that left her ears ringing. The wagon hit a clearing and Clara gasped. Two armed men stood in their path, legs braced apart, rifles raised. She immediately twisted sideways and curled her body around Harrison, shielding her son as best she could.

Her eyes squeezed tightly closed, Clara jerked when Josiah cupped her shoulders with his hands.

“Come on, Miz Danvers. We got to get you into the house. I promised Neill I’d keep you and the little one safe. I can’t do that so good out in the wagon.”

She grabbed hold of Josiah’s arm with her free hand. “But those men . . .”

A smile broke across his features, his teeth shining brightly in his dark face. “Travis and Crock ain’t gonna shoot you, ma’am. They’s just making sure we don’t got any unwanted comp’ny on our tail.”

“Travis?” Clara twisted abruptly toward the man approaching her from the opposite side of the wagon. With his gun now pointed harmlessly at the ground, she saw past the threat of the weapon to the face behind it. He was an older version of Neill. Tall, lean, and a bit more weathered, but definitely capable of lending aid.

“You’ve got to go after Neill,” she blurted.

In a blink, his expression changed from one of curiosity to a hard stare that nearly froze her to her seat. It didn’t stop her, though. Nothing would stop her. Not when Neill’s life hung in the balance.

Dodging Josiah’s grip, she leaned toward Travis and seized his shoulder. “Please. Mack is obsessed with taking my son from me. Neill stayed behind to head him off. But Mack will stop at nothing. Not even killing. Not if it means getting control of his grandson. You have to help Neill. Please!”

“Josiah?” Travis looked past her, a brow raised.

Clara glanced between the two men. Why wasn’t Travis rushing to fetch his horse? Did he not realize how little time they had?

“Jim is with him,” the driver said, his voice frustratingly void of urgency. “I promised Neill to look after his woman, so I’ll be here to watch the house.”

Travis nodded once, then finally started issuing orders. “Crock, take the lady in to Meri. Josiah, see to the team. I’ll saddle the horses.” Then he turned back to her. “You’ll be safe here, ma’am. If you belong to Neill, you belong to all of us. No matter what happens, you and your child will be protected.”

“Thank you, but please go. Neill needs you more than I do right now.” She released his shoulder, barely restraining herself from shooing him on his way.

He grinned at her impatience, then set off at a jog toward the barn. Another man immediately stepped into the void he’d left and smiled up at her. The warm, natural charm he exuded softened the edge of her distress. “I’m Crockett, ma’am. Let me help you down.”

She thought to put Harrison back in his makeshift bed before alighting, but strong hands circled her waist and had her feet on the ground before she could blink. “Th-thank you.” He held her steady while she braced her wobbly legs beneath her. “I’m Clara, by the way. Clara Danvers.”

He winked at her. “Soon to be Clara Archer, I’ll bet.”

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“Excellent!” He took her arm and led her to the log house standing a short distance away. “It’s about time that boy settled down. Maybe now he’ll quit galavantin’ all over the state and stay put for a while.”

They hadn’t even reached the porch yet when a lovely blond woman bustled out the front door. She had a slight hitch in her step, but the enthusiastic welcome glowing in her blue eyes erased all else from Clara’s mind. How long had it been since she’d had true female companionship?

“Meri, meet Clara,” Crockett announced as he assisted her up the stairs. “Neill’s intended.”

The instant she reached the top step, Clara found herself wrapped in a fierce hug. “Welcome to the family, Clara. I’ve been praying for the Lord to lead Neill to the right woman. And here you are.”

The right woman? Tears welled in Clara’s eyes. She carried Comanche blood and was the mother of another man’s babe—yet this beautiful, kind-hearted lady took one look at her and not only accepted her but called her an answer to prayer. Her knees did buckle then.

“Whoa.” Crockett grabbed hold of her elbow and steadied her.

“I’m fine,” Clara insisted, waving away his help once she had her feet back under her. “I’m just a little worn out from the trip.”

“Of course you are.” Meri held out her hands. “Could I take the baby for you? Mine have gotten so big, it would be such a joy to hold an infant again.”

Clara hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “His name is Harrison,” she said as she handed her son into Meri’s arms.

“He’s beautiful,” the other woman enthused. “Such a dear. And so tiny. Why, he can’t be more than a couple weeks old.”

“Two days.”

“Two days?” Meri gasped. “Good heavens! You came straight from childbed, didn’t you? What was that boy thinking?”

Clara stiffened. “That man was saving my son. Leaving was necessary.” Why did they all speak of Neill as if he were still a child?

Meri looked taken aback, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Yes. You are definitely the right woman.”

“Crock!” Travis’s shout drew all eyes to the barn, where he emerged leading two horses. “Mount up.”

Neill’s brother placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll bring your man back to you safe and sound, Clara. Don’t worry.”

She glared at his teasing grin. “See that you do.”

His chuckle warmed her, but the sound quickly dissipated as he bounded down the steps and across the yard to the waiting horses.

The men disappeared in a flurry of dust as they kicked their horses into a run. Meri led the way into the house, so busy cooing to Harrison that she didn’t notice Clara’s hesitation to follow.

She peered into the trees as if she could actually see Neill if she just tried hard enough. “Bring him back to me,” she whispered, the prayer lifting from the depths of her heart. “I need him.”

Mack’s fingers tightened their grip on Neill’s throat. Consciousness ebbed.

Then a vision of Clara swam through his mind. Clara alone. Abandoned. Her son lost to her. No! Neill forced the darkness back, a new ferocity thrumming in his veins.

Mack shifted position to press more weight against Neill’s throat, and Neill seized the opening. With a surge of strength that could only be God-given, he raised both knees and jammed his boots into Mack’s gut. He twisted and shoved with all his might, launching Mack sideways. Neill gulped blessedly sweet air.

Not taking any time to savor that sweetness, Neill immediately threw himself on top of Mack and slammed his fist into the man’s body and face again and again until his adversary finally stopped swinging back.

“Clara is to be my wife,” Neill shouted down at the man moaning beneath him. “Harrison will carry my name. Be my son. You no longer have any claim to him. Do you under stand?”

Mack stilled. Eyes that had been rolling back in his head suddenly sharpened their focus. “She named the boy Harrison?” His grunted words were barely decipherable, but Neill made them out.

“Yes.” Odd that the boy’s name would have such an effect on him.

Mack lifted his head an inch off the ground, then collapsed back down. “My grandmother’s . . . maiden name.”

Neill’s brows rose. What were the chances? True, Harrison was a rather common surname, but for it to belong to both Clara’s mother and Mack’s grandmother smacked of something stronger than coincidence. Providence, perhaps? After all, he doubted Clara would have named her son Harrison had she known the family attachment Mack had to the same name. There was too much animosity between them for her to choose a name that reminded her at all of her overbearing father-in-law.

“Can I at least see him?” Mack murmured, his words slurring slightly. “He’s all I’ve got left of my boys.”

Neill’s gut screamed no. The man wasn’t to be trusted. But stealing a man’s grandson from him was no better than what Mack had tried to do to Clara. Harrison deserved to know his entire family, warts and all.

“Only on my terms,” Neill growled, “and only if Clara agrees.”

Mack’s eyes slid closed, and the lines of tension etching his face eased. “Thank you.”

Neill rolled off the man and tugged him to his feet. “Harrison will be my son in the eyes of the law, an Archer, with all the protection of the Archer family. I will love him like my own and raise him accordingly. He’ll know ranching, hunting, horses, weapons, and . . . if you can see your way to cooperating, he’ll know his grandfather, too.”

Mack sucked in a harsh breath. “You . . . you won’t keep him from me?”

“You’ll only be allowed to see him on Archer property, and only with me or one of his uncles in attendance. But understand this.” Neill grabbed Mack’s shirtfront and brought the man’s face even with his own. “If you ever attempt to take the boy or if anything suspicious occurs while you are with him, your welcome will be revoked. Permanently. You’ll never see him again. Understand?”

“What of the Circle D?” The man’s shoulders stiffened slightly, a hint of the old belligerence creeping back into his voice. “Would you keep the boy from what is rightly his just to spite me?”

Neill shook his head. “When Harrison is old enough, we can discuss a visit. But I won’t force it on him if he is unwilling. If you want to name him your heir, that’s your business. However, don’t be thinkin’ you’ll have long summers together to train him in the ranch’s management. Not unless you prove yourself trustworthy first.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” a voice behind them said. “Don’t you think, Crock?”

Neill turned to find Travis and Crockett astride their horses, wrists crossed over their saddle horns as if content to watch the show from that vantage point.

“Yep. Plenty reasonable.” Crock winked at him. Neill grinned.

“’Bout time you two got here,” Jim groused, his own face sporting several new bruises as he shoved Mack’s hired man in front of him to join the gathering.

Travis pushed back the brim of his hat. “Seems to me you two young’uns had things well in hand.”

Jim scowled. Crockett chuckled. And Neill could only think how good it was to be home.

“We’ll take care of Danvers and his man for you, Neill,” Travis said in his usual take-charge way. “Go home to your woman and let her know you’re all right.”

For once, Neill felt no urge to argue. He hobbled toward Mo and hefted himself into the saddle, ignoring the protest of his muscles.

“Send Josiah back with word on whether or not Clara’s willing to let Danvers see the babe,” Travis called out. “If not, we’ll escort him back to town and see him on the train.”

Neill raised a hand to let his brother know he’d heard, then nudged Mo into a canter. The faster pace sent pain radiating through him with every stride, but Neill didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to Clara and assuring her that Harrison was safe.