Emily Carmichael - How To Lasso A Cowboy

She took Marilee’s hand. “We have to go.”

Marilee pulled back. “I don’t-”

“I won’t let him take you, sweetpea,” she said, “but we have to get home. Papa will be frantic with worry.”

If he was even home yet.

Seth Sinclair obviously wasn’t welcome here, and she wasn’t going to go out and tell him he had to leave without seeing his sister. Not after…

She knew she shouldn’t have given the promise to Marilee. It was a promise she was physically unable to enforce. She could not keep him from taking his own flesh and blood. She could only rely on his sense of decency and love for a sister.

If she was wrong…

Delaney would help her if she asked him. He would make sure Marilee stayed with her. But at what price? He had been courting her in a leisurely fashion, obviously sure that his suit would be accepted. He was important, and she wasn’t. She was certainly not the most attractive woman around. She had, in fact, no idea why he troubled himself, but her father had asked her to be pleasant to him, and she had.

But unlike her father, she had never trusted Delaney. Her flesh crawled when she was in his company.

Choose Delaney or the man who had just saved her life?

It wasn’t that simple. Her father had realized his life’s dream. And so had she. She’d always loved children but never thought she would have any of her own. Marilee had been a gift.

She brought joy and purpose to Elizabeth’s life as nothing else had.

She knelt down. “He’s your brother, sweetpea. I don’t think he will make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Marilee looked at her with trust that had been so hard to earn. And nodded.

Elizabeth took her hand and they left the house together. They walked out to the buggy where Seth Sinclair stood. When they reached him, he knelt so his eyes met Marilee’s.

“Hello,” he said in a voice so soft Elizabeth felt an ache inside. He did love his sister. It was so obvious in the way he tried to dispel fear.

“Hello,” Marilee said, then pressed her face against Elizabeth’s skirts.

Elizabeth looked down. Seth Sinclair’s face was a study in pain. He so obviously wanted to take Marilee in his arms and the struggle between doing so and exercising patience was obvious in the rigidity of his body.

“You are very pretty,” he said. “You look like our mother.”

Marilee turned then. “I never knew my mother.”

It was one of the longest sentences Elizabeth had yet heard from her.

Seth Sinclair’s hard face seemed to dissolve.She saw tears in the edges of his eyes, something she had not expected.

“I know,” he said. “But I remember you. You were no larger than a tadpole when I left. And you were the prettiest little tadpole I ever saw.”

Marilee screwed up her face. “Tadpoles aren’t pretty.”

“I think it all depends on what you consider is pretty,” he said. “I like tadpoles.”

Elizabeth was enchanted by the conversation, by the sincerity of his voice even through the utter nonsense of what was being said. She knew charm. Her father was charming. She had learned the shallowness of charm. Too often it masked emptiness.

This was not charm. This was a raw naked hunger to reach his sister. The ache inside her deepened.

He didn’t try to force Marilee to accept him. That surprised her. He obviously respected her hesitancy, her fear. And despite her obvious fascination with him, Marilee clung to Elizabeth.

Seth held his hand out. Such a small gesture but Marilee cringed and hid behind Elizabeth’s skirt.

He stood and the expression on his face drove straight into her heart. It was pure agony.

She had never known that kind of pain. She hoped she never would.

He tried again. “Would you like to know more about your mother?”

Marilee glanced up. Nodded.

“I can come tomorrow and tell you a story about her.”

Marilee looked uncertain.

“Think about it,” he said.

He stood and whispered in Elizabeth McGuire’s ear, “I want to see her often.” His voice was rough with emotion.

She nodded, too grateful to say anything more. Marilee would be hers for a few more days. Days, or weeks. Perhaps even months. She would cherish the time, however short.

She watched him look at Marilee with his heart in his eyes. Then without another word he went to the carriage, untied his horse, and in one graceful movement mounted.

He rode off without looking back.

SETH TRIED TO shrug off despair as he rode away.

He wanted to look back. He wanted to capture the image of his sister in his mind. But something kept him from doing so. Pride? Pain? A bit of both.

Or was it that he feared he might change his mind? And that would be wrong for his sister. Earning her trust would take time.

He was leaving part of his heart behind. But he had to find another part of it elsewhere. His brother.

There had been a special place they’d gone as boys. If Dillon was still in the area, he would be there.

He guided his horse west toward the small valley twelve miles away. Hidden behind rugged hills, it was accessible only through a narrow opening overgrown with underbrush. He and his brother had found it years ago when riding cattle. Inside had been a cabin built against one of the surrounding hills. A human skull lay a few feet from the door. Only boys then, Seth and Dillon surmised a hunter or hermit had been killed by Comanches.

The entrance into the valley had been so overgrown that had the two boys not been searching for a lost calf whose mother was bellowing nearby, they never would have found it.

Neither would anyone else.

If Dillon was still in the area, he could well be there. And Seth was sure Dillon wouldn’t leave without Marilee.

Seth had a few other places in mind, but this was his best bet.

He backtracked several times, something made easy by the hills. A man could be swallowed by them. No one was following him. Then he veered off toward the cabin. It was at least three hours away, particularly on Chance, who still wasn’t at full strength.

Time to think even as his gaze continually surveyed the hills. War instilled instincts that would never leave him.

The sun was dropping rapidly. Shadows designed by clouds moved across the green hills. They were hauntingly familiar. He knew these hills; they had inhabited his dreams for more than four very long years.

Heat dissipated as the sun sank. A cool breeze ruffled his hair. He hurried the pace. He didn’t have a lantern. He wanted to make the valley before last light.

If Dillon wasn’t there, he could stay the night and start searching at dawn.

The last rays of sun ignited the sky with fire. He found the trail and moved cautiously. If his brother was hiding here, he would be looking out for intruders. Seth located the entrance from memory and dismounted. The brush that shielded it was easily removed and replaced.

Dillon was here. Or had been recently.

He decided to walk the horse in. Dillon and whoever was with him might be triggerhappy.

He moved cautiously. Then stopped when he heard the all too familiar sound of a rifle hammer pulled back. He had not been quiet enough.

“Strike a match,” demanded a voice from the shadows.

Seth hunted for the matches in his pocket, then struck one. “Dillon?”

Silence. Then, “It can’t be.”

“Can’t be, but is,” Seth said.

Dillon stepped out of the shadows. “Seth?”

“No other,” he said lightly, though emotion tugged at his heart.

“Thank God,” Dillon said. “They said you were dead, but I kept hoping.” He paused. “The twins?”

“Died at the Wilderness. I was taken prisoner. When the war ended, I was ill with some fever I caught in prison. I was in one of their hospitals for more than a month. Then it’s a hell of a long journey from New York without money or a horse.”

The flame from the match burned down to his fingers. Seth dropped it and used the heel of his boot to make sure it was snuffed. Then he reached out his hand, and Dillon grasped it tightly. Suddenly four other shadowy figures appeared as if out of nowhere.

One of them lit another match, then a torch, and he had a better view of Dillon. When Seth had left for war, Dillon had been seventeen and wanting to go as well but their pa needed him at home. Now he was only twentytwo but he looked older. His face was far harder than it should have been.

Then his gaze moved to Dillon’s companions. Seth recognized all but one. They had been Dillon’s friends, far younger than himself. But now they were anything but boys. They all had a dangerous look, an expression that distrusted much and feared little.

Each one shook his hand. Danny Mitchum. Micah Roberts. Sawyer McGee. The fourth man was the most dangerous looking of them all. “Colorado,” he said by way of introduction. No more.

No one asked how Seth had found them. They obviously trusted Dillon and Dillon’s trust made him one of them.

“Tell me about the Major-” he said.

“Come inside,” Dillon said and led the way to the entrance of the cabin. The windows were covered with black blankets. Dillon quickly lit two oil lamps and sat in a chair.

Seth took the other. The other four men had disappeared back into the shadows.

“I remember all of them but Colorado,” Seth said.

“He found us. He had his own battles with army authority.”

“Delaney?”

Dillon nodded. “He killed Pa. Tried to kill me.”

“What happened?”

“Delaney came to serve an eviction notice because Pa hadn’t paid the new taxes just imposed. Pa tried to talk to him, ask for more time. We had cattle. A fair price would have paid what we owed. Pa said he would take them to San Antonio, be back in three weeks with the money. He approached Delaney, and one of Delaney’s men just shot him. Said he was threatening Delaney. He wasn’t. I went for the man who shot Pa. They shot me, then arrested me.