Yelping with shock at the sheer unexpectedness and force of Riley’s shove, Glory stumbled backward, her arms windmilling. A part of her brain recorded that Riley was falling in the opposite direction. Glory screamed, wanted to reach for him, but couldn’t. Her heel caught, her ankle turned. She lost her balance and fell, meeting the unyielding ground with a grunt of pain and a flurry of flying skirt. Landing on her back, she lay there for a stunned second, unblinking and staring up at the sky.
And then she heard it. The pop-pop-pop of a gun being fired. Fright fisted her hands, digging her fingernails into the prairie’s soil. She turned her head, bit at her lip, and huddled against the ground, trying instinctively to make herself a smaller target. As if to prove she’d failed, the gun barked again and a bullet scudded into the ground not ten feet from Glory’s hip. Gasping, her heart pounding, she rolled in the opposite direction.
When she did, something hard in her coat pocket gouged painfully against her pelvic bone. Glory grimaced as she levered herself up enough to turn her head so she could see and assess what was happening. Frantically, she searched the boulder-strewn and uneven ground of the small valley between the two hills. Off to her right, she found Abel Justice.
Protected by an exposed and jutting ledge of rock, he peered out from behind its safety and was firing away—to her left. She didn’t need to look to know he was gunning for Riley. Glory’s face twisted with hatred. She would kill Abel Justice herself if she only had a gun. Finally looking to her left, she saw who she knew she would. Riley. Lying on his stomach on open ground—totally exposed and firing back. But blessedly, he was alive.
Relief swamped Glory, had her head sagging between her shoulders, her forehead resting against the ground. Tiny sharp rocks poked against her skin. She knew if she could find a rock big enough, she’d throw it at the hateful Abel Justice. And then she’d throw one at Riley for what he’d done. He’d shoved her out of the way, hoping to draw Justice’s fire to himself. And for the most part, it had worked.
Glory cursed Riley’s noble act as stupid, stupid, stupid. If he sacrificed himself like this, if he got himself killed, did he really think she’d want to go on living without him? She’d no more than thought it before a deafening quiet descended on the prairie. Glory divided her darting gaze between Justice and Riley. Had one of them been hit? Was one of them—? No! Riley was trying to reload. He was still alive. Glory sucked in a huge breath—which whooshed out of her when she saw Justice jump up and begin running. For Riley.
She cried out to warn him. He spared her a glance as he fumbled frantically at his gunbelt. Sheer terror seized Glory. He didn’t have enough time to reload before Justice would be upon him—so close there’d be no chance of him missing. Glory shot a look Justice’s way. There he was. Running, leering, aiming. “No!” Glory screamed, scrambling to her feet. “No! It’s me you want. Me! Leave him be!”
She didn’t realize she was running toward the hired killer until he turned to stare at her and called out, “Stop right there. Stay where you are.”
But she couldn’t stop. Panic and fear for Riley pushed her, carried her stumbling and crying toward the killer. “No! Don’t kill him.” But she suddenly lost her footing and fell face-first to the ground.
Again, whatever was in her pocket threatened to embed itself in her belly, so hard was it. Glory flattened her palms against the ground and tried to push herself up. But found she couldn’t. Something, someone was holding her down. Slowly she realized what … who it was. Abel Justice had his foot in the middle of her back. And his gun cocked at her temple.
“Like I said, stay where you are, Miz Glory.” Then he called out to Riley. “Throw yer gun down and get up, Mr. Thorne. Nice and slowlike. One wrong move and I’ll kill her. You know I’ll do it, too.”
“No, Riley—don’t! He’ll kill me anyway. Don’t listen to him.” A sob wrenched out of Glory. She managed to raise her head and swipe her hair out of her face. Only to see Riley throwing his useless gun down and hauling himself up. “No,” she cried again. “I love you, Riley. Please don’t.”
But he did. Unarmed, he stood tall and still, his hands raised. Glory couldn’t look away from his face, even though what she saw reflected there was too awful to bear. His expression was grim, calm … fully prepared to die for her. Helpless to stop him, Glory gave up. Crying, she sagged back to the ground, her cheek against the hard, unsympathetic earth. With each shuddering sob, she choked on grit and grass.
But the sound of Riley’s voice broke through her sorrow. Quieting instantly, she raised her head, tried to strain upward. But couldn’t. Justice pressed her down more with his boot against her spine. Stabs of nerve pain shot down the backs of Glory’s legs, rendering her all but paralyzed, reducing her to nothing more than an unwilling witness to whatever happened next. And so, against her will, she listened.
“Let her go, Justice,” Riley was saying. “Pick on someone your own size for once, you yellow-bellied coward. Or can you only fight defenseless women?”
“Shut up,” came Abel Justice’s snarl. He cruelly ground his bootheel harder against Glory’s spine. She jerked and cried out, but more from the sudden jab against her pelvic bone than from Justice’s actions. What was that in her pocket and tormenting her so?
The thought was fleeting as she again strained to hear Riley’s words, his unrelenting taunting of Justice. “Go on. Shoot me. What’s stopping you? The fact that if you do, I’ve got four brothers and a father who’ll hunt you down and kill you? They’re out there right now, hunting for us. They could be just over that hill. Why else do you think Skeeter isn’t down here chewing on your leg? You think it might be because someone’s holding him up there?”
“Shut up, Thorne. And stay where you are. You think I’m stupid? There ain’t nobody up there. I said stay there. One more step, and you’ll get to watch Miz Glory die.”
Riley’s voice lowered with deadly intent. “You don’t want to do that, you sniveling little bastard. Because if you do, I’ll be on you before you can raise that gun again. Only I won’t kill you. Not for a long time. I’ll keep you alive and carve pieces off you—one chunk at a time. I’ll see that you suffer. After a while, you’ll beg to die. And only then will I kill you.” He paused to glare at Justice and then added, “Let Glory up. And just maybe I’ll let you go.”
“You’ll let me go? Are you loco? I’m the one with the gun. And that bein’ the case, I’m through talking.”
Fright surged through Glory. She felt the gun move away from her temple. In only a second, that same gun would take Riley’s life. She arrowed a quick prayer for strength heavenward and then wrenched hard to one side, crying out, “Now, Riley!” as she did. It worked—she’d caught Justice off guard. His yelp of shock accompanied his bootheel lifting off her back. Glory completed her roll and scrambled to her feet, expecting to see Justice on his back and Riley atop him. But no. Not today. Not on this day of alternating hope and despair, minor miracles and major setbacks.
Justice had obviously regained his balance before Riley could move. Because there he stood, snarling and cursing, swinging his pistol’s bore from her to Riley and back to her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Miz Glory. And now yer goin’ to pay. You can watch him die.”
Again the threatening pistol was swung toward Riley. Panicked, Glory clutched at Papa’s coat she wore—and felt that hard something in her pocket. She instantly fumbled for it. She’d throw it at him, maybe hit him, knock his aim off. Plunging her hand in the deep pocket, she yelled out, “Justice!” Amazingly, he turned to her, pistol and all. She froze. Riley’s flying body entered her field of vision. He collided with Justice.
The gun discharged. Glory screamed, bringing her hands to her mouth. Had Riley been hit? Her wide, unblinking eyes forced her to watch, to see the men hit the ground together and instantly fall apart. They both lay on their backs, still and unmoving. Glory couldn’t be sure that her heart beat in that tense second of suspended time. But then … both men wrenched, grabbed for the other one. Glory stiffened. Riley was alive. So was Justice—but did he still have the gun in his hand?
That fearful question galvanized Glory into action. She took off at a run, intent on reaching the fighting men, determined to do something to put an end to this most awful of afternoons. As she ran, ignoring the agonized protesting of her abused muscles, she felt that hard something bumping against her leg, that same object that had gouged her belly when she fell. Not slowing down, she plunged her hand into her coat’s right pocket—Papa’s sheepskin coat. Her fingers closed around the cold steel she found there.
Glory stopped as suddenly as if she’d hit a barn wall. She stared vacantly toward the horizon, not seeing the deep shadows of afternoon or the browning tallgrass all around her. Because every fiber of her being focused on what she felt in her hand. Could it be? Snapping out of her shock, she jerked her hand out of her pocket. Her mouth dropped open. Sure enough … Papa’s pistol. The very same one she herself had loaded and put in there weeks ago. And had forgotten. She’d had it all this time.
Cursing herself for such forgetfulness, she clutched at her weapon and turned her attention again to the men. It’s time to die, Abel Justice. Two steps closer, Glory again stopped. She stood there, her arms hanging loose at her sides at she stared at Riley lying on the ground. On his stomach and unmoving. She was too late to help him. Just then, Justice moved, began staggering to his feet. He was bloodied. His thin coat lay open. A smear of red covered his chest. But whose blood was it—his own or Riley’s?
Glory’s heart sank. She refused to allow any thought to form that might try to tell her Riley was dead. She’d know soon enough. But right now, she had some unfinished business to attend to. Stepping closer to the two men, she called out, “Justice?!”
The man righted himself and turned to her, his fists raised as if he expected another fight. Glory clutched her weapon in both hands and raised her arms stiffly, sighting on this killer of innocent people. With no thoughts of mercy in her heart, she watched his eyes and smiled in a purely grim way when she saw what she wanted. When she saw the realization dawn—that exact moment when he knew that she held a gun. His muddy-brown, flat, and soulless eyes widened until white showed all around their dark irises.
A tic of triumph jerked a muscle in Glory’s cheek. She took another step closer to Abel Justice. She didn’t want to miss. And told him, “My only regret is I don’t have enough bullets to shoot you once for every time I owe you. I will tell you this—the name of J. C. Lawless will be on the first one.”
Her Papa’s killer dared raise a hand in supplication to her and cry out, “I ain’t armed. You cain’t shoot an unarmed man.”
That was the wrong argument. Glory raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You did. Carter Brown—your own partner—didn’t have a gun in his hand when you put a bullet through his head. But more important to me—and worse for you—the other was my papa.” Through talking, Glory shifted her weight, distributing it evenly on both feet. Her finger tensed around the trigger.
“Glory, don’t.”
The soft voice calling out to her startled her. Gasping, she jerked a quick look to her right. Miracle of miracles, Riley was on his feet. A surge of love and intense relief—and fear gripped her. Riley was alive, but his shirtfront was also covered with blood. “Riley! Oh, thank God you’re alive! Are you shot?”
She glanced back at Justice, saw he hadn’t dared to move, and then jerked her attention back to Riley. He was shaking his head. “No, it’s Justice’s blood. He shot himself when I hit him.”
Glory again sought the tracker. Now she noticed the blood oozing wetly down his shirt. “Good. I’m glad. Then all I’ve got to do is finish him off.”
Justice’s mouth opened to a dark O. His eyes held that fearful look a trapped animal gets when it sees the trapper and knows its death is imminent. Good. Glory narrowed her eyes, ready to complete the deed.
“No, Glory. Don’t,” Riley called out, again stopping her. “He’s already dead. He just hasn’t fallen down yet. Listen to me. I don’t want you to kill him.”
“How can you say that? He killed Papa, Riley. He was unarmed. And this coward killed him when he was lost in his grief and was bending over Mama. How can I just forgive him?”
“No one’s asking you to forgive him,” was Riley’s reply. “I know what he did, honey. But he’s not armed now. Look at him.”
She did. She flicked her gaze up and down Abel Justice. Terrified and sniveling, he held his empty hands up for her to see. She called out to him. “Where’s your gun?”
“I don’t know,” he cried, his voice thin and reedy. “Don’t shoot me, Miz Glory. Please. I’m already done for. Just let me be to die on my own.”
Before Glory could even react to that speech, Riley recaptured her attention by calling out, “I don’t think he’s lying, Glory. He’s got a bad wound and will probably die pretty quick. But it’s not him I’m concerned with. It’s you. You don’t have to have his blood on your soul. You don’t want to live with that.”
“No. I have to shoot him,” Glory screamed, suddenly tired of everyone telling her what she could and couldn’t do. “But first he’s going to give me some answers. There’re a lot of things I still don’t understand. I have questions about that day—that day when he killed Papa.”
“I understand. But are you sure you want to know more, Glory? Look where you are now, this minute, for all your knowing. Look at the hurt it’s caused you. Maybe there’re just some things that are better not known. Honey, you may never know the whole truth. And that may be a good thing. So let him be. Let him go die.”
Everything Riley said made good sense, she admitted. But good sense had nothing to do with vengeance. “You may be right, Riley, but he tore my family apart. He killed my Papa and hurt me and my sisters. And what about Biddy and your mother? Look what he did to them. He was going to kill me, too. And you. He deserves to die.”
“Yes, he does. And he will … by his own hand … as it should be. Not by yours. He’s not worth what killing him would do to you, Glory. I’m asking you—please, put the gun down. Because I love you, and I don’t want to see you suffer later for this. Do it, Glory. For me. I’m asking.”
Glory gulped back a sob and a whimper. Suddenly overwhelmed with it all, she looked over at Riley, wanting only for him to hold her, to make the hurt in her heart go away, make it quit aching.
As if he sensed this, he held his hands out to her, inviting her to take the steps that would have her in his embrace. “I love you, Glory. And your sisters do, too. You can be proud—you kept your promise to them. Abel Justice is dying right now because of the brave things you did to keep my mother and Biddy and even me alive. You never gave up, you risked your own life, doing what you had to do to fight for us. We owe you our lives. But it’s over now. Put the gun down … so we can start our lives over. But this time, together. Forever.”
Staring at him, hearing his words of love, knowing she wanted the same things, Glory weakened, suffered second thoughts. Her arms felt heavy, slipped down a notch.
And that notch was apparently big enough for Riley to see, because he jumped in with, “You’d be doing the right thing, Glory. There’s a Higher Justice waiting to deal with him. Let Him. It’s not your place. One man’s quest for revenge—it’s what put Abel Justice on the trail here from Mexico. That same wrong desire took your sisters away from you, too. I asked you before, when will it be enough? When, for God’s sake, are you going to be through hating?”
Glory blinked at the note of impatience in Riley’s voice, and bit at her bottom lip. Finally, she called out, “Riley, I don’t want to hate anymore, can’t you see? I don’t want to be afraid. I want my sisters home. I want my life back and some happiness again. I want you, Riley. I want our babies.”
“I want that, too, sweetheart. More than anything in the world.”
Riley’s warm words and tone pierced the tiniest hole in her heart’s armor, her defense against the shattering grief of finding Mama and Papa dead that September day. Her awakening heart spoke to her, telling her that only by talking this out with Riley would she be able to finally let go—of the hurt, the hate … and the gun. “Riley, I don’t want to do this anymore, but I can’t put the gun down. I can’t. Help me. Talk to me.”
“Will you give the gun to me, Glory?”
“No!” Her grip tightened. She leveled her Papa’s pistol again at Justice, saw that he was pale and sweating. He licked at his lips and stared unblinking at her. She frowned, thinking, He certainly is hanging on pretty good, for someone who’s supposed to be dying. “Talk to me, Riley,” she cried out.
“Okay. Just listen to me. Think of our babies. They’d be beautiful, Glory, just like you. And think about how happy Biddy’d be. And Smiley. They’d be like grandparents to our kids. Just like my folks. Honey, there’s no more land feud—not between my family and yours. My father apologizes. We could live on your land or mine. We could build our own house.”
“No, I want to live in Mama and Papa’s house, Riley.”
“We can do that, too. All of us. Me, you, our ten babies, Biddy, Hannah, and Jacey, and their families when they have them. And Skeeter, too. Don’t you think he’d like lots of babies pulling on his ears and playing with him?”
Glory grinned at that. Somewhat against her will, but a grin nevertheless. This picture Riley was weaving … she’d thought this before. Her dream. The realization struck her with the force of a slap. And Riley Eugene Thorne knew it, understood it … had said it. He was also the center of it. With his love in her life, she could face whatever she had to.
Even bad news. Even if it was about her sisters. No! They’d come home. She couldn’t bear anything else. They’d come home and find her married to a Thorne. Well, Riley came first in her heart now, not her sisters. And they’d have to understand and accept him. Glory blinked at that thought. It was true—Riley was first in her heart.
A sudden notion assailed her. She was a grown woman now, no longer clinging to the loyalties and affections of her childhood. She wanted Riley. She belonged with Riley. It wasn’t the ranch at all. Not the land, not the house. They weren’t home. Because wherever Riley was, that was her home. Her love for him and his love for her—and only that—could save her, could finally take away this hate that threatened to crush her soul.
Thinking of hate brought Abel Justice into focus. Cowardly, merciless, wounded … pitiable. No, she couldn’t do it. Not in cold blood. Not like this. It was wrong, plain and simple. She’d be just like him if she ended him like this. That was what Riley meant. It was over. Glory gave up the fight. She relaxed her shoulders, bent her elbows, and raised the gun until its barrel pointed harmlessly at the sky.
Only then did she look over at Riley. He smiled and nodded at her. And then he put his hands to his waist, let his breath out, and closed his eyes, obviously relieved. A smile for him began to form on Glory’s face, but died at the sound of Abel Justice’s voice.
“You stupid little bitch—you might just as well be a Lawless for all yer gutlessness. You stand there with a gun in yer hand and talkin’ about love and babies. I knowed you didn’t have the gumption to shoot me.”
Glory stared at the gun in his hands. He must have had it behind him, stuck in his waistband. Wherever it had been didn’t matter, because at the moment it was now pointed at her. That gloating look was back on his face. “I ain’t shot up half as bad as he thinks. Hell, I’m going to live. But not him”—he indicated Riley—“and not you. Because you’d rather talk than do somethin’ about it. All that sappiness about love. Here’s how much I care about love.”
He then made the mistake of pointing the gun at Riley. Who was a picture at that moment of helplessness. He was also unarmed. Glory didn’t even think. She raised her Papa’s gun and fired, hitting a very stunned-looking Abel Justice in his left shoulder. Glory saw Riley jump back out of the way and knew he wouldn’t say one word this time to distract or to discourage her as she faced her enemy.
“This is J. C. Lawless’s gun I just shot you with,” she explained to the tracker in a murderously calm voice. “And that bullet in you is for J. C. Lawless. You had your chance to walk away. You should have taken it.”
She fired again. “This is for Catherine Lawless.” She didn’t stop. Not when Justice jerked and finally dropped his gun. “This is for Peter Anglin, a crippled old cowboy who never hurt anybody.” Justice spun around as the next bullet hit him. “And this is for all the animals he loved. And for Skeeter, who lived to hate you and to hunt you down.”
Finally, Abel Justice fell to the ground, spread-eagled … and dead. But still, Glory advanced on him, pulling the trigger again and again. “For Hannah. For Jacey.” When all she got was the metallic click-click-click that told her the chambers were empty, she kept squeezing the trigger. And might have continued to do so forever had someone not gripped her shoulders and turned her away.
She looked up, blinking in confusion. Riley’s handsome face filled her vision and her world. “He left you no choice. You did what you had to do, what I should have done a long time ago. It’s over now.”
Glory’s mouth worked. She heard him, she nodded. Riley then pried the gun out of her fingers and stuck it in his waistband. Watching him as intently as she was and loving his every move—knowing it meant he was blessedly alive, Glory startled when something wet and cold nuzzled her palm. Looking down, she saw Skeeter. When had he come back over here? She smiled down at the big hound, who turned soulful eyes up to her. “He’s dead, Skeeter. He can’t ever hurt you again. He can’t ever hurt any of us again. It’s over.”
Skeeter blinked, appeared to think about what she’d said. Then, he swung his large, squarish head to stare at Abel Justice’s unmoving, bloodied body. A low woof escaped him, and he humped his back. Padding away from Glory, he adopted a stiff-legged walk that seemed to raise the hair on his back, and finally stood over the man who had shot him. He sniffed the body and then raised his head to bay loudly, to announce this victory, this triumph. His rich and throaty cry filled the air, carrying on the wind for all the prairie to hear and to know.
Watching him, Glory was suddenly moved to tears. Her fog lifted. Her eyes filling with the hot and salty drops of long-held emotion, she turned and stepped into Riley’s warm and loving embrace. The smear of blood on his shirt didn’t matter. Not now, when she needed so badly to rest her cheek against his broad chest and hear for herself his beating heart. Only this way would she believe that he was really and truly alive. And that she was, too.
Riley held her as tightly as she did him. He kissed the top of her head, smoothed her hair out of her face, and told her, “There’s still a lot to be done, to be faced—and forgiven. I know that. But I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I swear it. Every day and every night. I’ll keep you safe and warm. I swear I will. But for right now, put everything else out of your mind, sweetheart. Right now, think only about how much I love you today. And about tomorrow—and how much more I’m going to love you then. And the day after that. Forever.”
His words of love. Riley’s for her. Could any woman anywhere, in any time, ever be loved so much? Glory blinked, her chin quivered, and again fat, hot tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She cried for all that had happened. For all that was yet to be. For her real parents’ fates. For those of Mama and Papa Lawless. And for the as-yet-unknown fates of her sisters. But above all else, she cried for her happiness … for the love she’d found to help her through it all.
Pulling back in his arms, she turned her face up to Riley’s, capturing for herself the depth of his love in his deep, dark eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.
Riley smoothed away her tears and smiled down at her. In that instant, Glory knew that with him, her heart could finally rest. For, in him, she saw the cherished reality of all her dreams. “I love you, too. I always have,” he answered her in that deep, quiet voice of his that chased gooseflesh over her skin, that voice that would be waking her every day for the rest of her life. He then raised his head and, looking around, considered the falling darkness. “The night’s coming on. Everyone will be worried. I need to get you home.”
Glory reached up to cup his cheek, to run her fingers over his lips, to draw his gaze back down to her face. “Riley,” she said when he again looked into her eyes, “we need to go, yes. But in my heart, I’m already home. Because you’re here.”