‘‘Michael’s fine,’’ Maxwell answered. ‘‘I saw him in Austin less than a week ago.’’

Victoria raised her head slightly, showing no joy or pain at Maxwell’s announcement.

‘‘I’ve brought someone I think you will want to meet.’’ Max nodded for Allie to come closer. ‘‘I’ve never stopped looking for the child of James who might have survived. I always go to the Rangers office and check on any recovered captives that might fit. Finally, I’ve found her.’’

Victoria’s faced filled with hope.

‘‘Allie Catlin, I’d like you to meet your grandmother, Victoria.’’

Wes watched Allie closely as she moved toward the old woman. He could see that she still doubted the sheriff’s words, but he also saw an ounce of hope. She was shy, waiting for an invitation… outstretched hands, a welcoming word.

‘‘Are you sure?’’ Victoria didn’t even allow herself to breathe.

‘‘I wasn’t when I found the record. Thought it could just be coincidence that she was the right age and went by the name Allie. She was found hundreds of miles southwest of where she was captured. But when I saw her face, I knew. She’s the image of you fifty years ago.’’

Victoria raised her hand, touching the air only inches in front of Allie. ‘‘I’d given up,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Could it be true?’’

Just as Allie moved within the old woman’s reach, a sharp voice shattered the room.

‘‘He’s lying!’’ Katherine snapped.

Victoria pulled her hand away, drawing into her shell as if her sister were her eyes and she’d seen evil. Allie jumped back, reacting to the words like a slap.

‘‘He’s lying to you, sister. The girl looks nothing like you. He’s old and blind as you, if he sees a resemblance. I’d swear on our mother’s grave there is not a drop of Catlin blood in this woman.’’ Katherine’s voice cracked like dry wood in a fire. ‘‘He’s just another come to take your fortune.’’

Wes hardly noticed the anger that bubbled up in Maxwell, or the confusion in Victoria’s blind stare, or the decades-old hatred laced into Katherine’s words. All he cared about, all he saw, was Allie.

The flicker of hope she’d allowed herself to believe in now crumbled her from inside out. Allie had unlocked her heart, wanting to believe the sheriff, wanting a family again. She’d opened the armor to take a wound to a soul already fragile.

Wes ignored the sheriff’s denial and Katherine’s hateful words. Allie was shattering.

In one sudden movement, he swept her up and carried her from the room like a bandit stealing treasure. The others were so lost in their argument, they hardly noticed as he left and entered the hallway.

He glanced around, it didn’t matter where he went. Away was the only objective. He hurried across the opening and into the first room he saw. Dusted in slits of light from closed shutters, the room paused, quiet as a tomb.

Wes closed the door and set Allie on her feet. He had no idea what he’d say to her, but he had to protect her from the others. Katherine’s shrill voice still tightened his spine.

Allie erupted like gunpowder exploding in his face. All at once, she was crying and pounding on his chest with all the force she could gather.

He let her pound, ignoring the pain. She wasn’t fighting him, she was fighting the world.

She shook her head so violently that the ribbon fell to the floor and her hair went wild around her, reminding him of the first time he’d seen her and thought her more animal than human.

Great sobs came and gulps for air, but not a word. The hurt was beyond words.

Wes closed his eyes, wondering what good he’d done her. He’d taken her from the cage only to deliver her to a place where they might not hurt her body, but they’d broken her heart.

Finally she grew tired, the last few blows barely touching him. Her fist rested against his chest as she lowered her head.

Wes pulled her to him then, ignoring her tired efforts to fight free. He held her tightly against him, feeling her sobs pass through his body.

A little at a time, she relaxed, letting him hold her. Her tears wet his shoulder, and her heart pounded against his side. He couldn’t help but think of all she must have been through. How many times had she thought she’d be rescued, or dreamed of a family waiting somewhere to welcome her? How many times must hope die before tears were too deep to bear?

He rocked her in his arms. ‘‘Shhhh, Allie,’’ he whispered. ‘‘They don’t matter, none of them. They’re fools for not wanting you.’’

Her crying lessened. He felt her arms move around his waist.

‘‘You belong right here with me. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.’’

She moved her face against his shirt, wiping away her tears as she looked up at him. ‘‘Take me away from here,’’ she begged between gulps. ‘‘Now!’’

Wes couldn’t help but smile. She really had no idea how beautiful her eyes were when they sparkled with tears. She could probably talk any man in the world into doing her bidding if she looked at him the way she gazed at Wes.

‘‘We’re on our way.’’ He placed an arm at her waist and reached for the door. As the light wedged in from the hallway, Wes caught the image from a tintype. He stepped to the wall of portraits. Allie, her hair all curled over one shoulder, stared back at him. Same huge eyes, same uplifted chin. But the style of clothing was old, fifty years or more, when hooped skirts barred women from many doorways. And the setting behind showed century-old trees with moss hanging from them.

Allie tugged at his hand.

‘‘Are you sure you want to go?’’ He knew she’d noticed the tintype.

She nodded.

He couldn’t blame her. She’d been through enough. She didn’t need to fight for her family as well. It didn’t matter that she was the true granddaughter. What mattered was that she wasn’t accepted.

When they entered the hallway, Jason jumped back from where he’d obviously been trying to listen. He didn’t lower his gaze from Wes, silently challenging Wes to question his actions. The sounds of an argument were still coming from across the hallway.

Wes didn’t question. In truth, if he’d been the boy, he would have been doing the same thing. ‘‘Jason, run tell Gideon that I want our horses now,’’ Wes ordered. ‘‘We’re leaving.’’

‘‘All of us?’’ The boy was fighting down fear as he moved with Wes and Allie down the hallway.

‘‘All three of us,’’ Wes said. ‘‘Maxwell can take care of himself with those two.’’

Jason nodded and vanished. Wes walked slowly out of the house and across the yard to the barn with Allie at his side. By the time they’d reached the barn door, the horses were waiting and Jason was standing beside them with his bundle in hand.

Wes handed Jason the reins to the bay and swung onto his own mount. Then he offered his hand to Allie. ‘‘I’d be honored if you’d ride along with me, Allie.’’

His words said far more and, from the look in her eyes, she knew it. He wasn’t just offering to get her away from this place. He was offering her a place with him. And he was very politely asking as if she had a hundred other options and might take any one.

Allie locked her hand at his elbow, and he pulled her up behind him.

‘‘Let’s ride, son.’’ Wes kicked his horse into action. ‘‘There’s nothing for any of us here.’’

As they rode through the open gate, the servants lined the wall. When Allie passed, the men removed their hats and the women curtsied. They knew, Wes thought, even if Victoria was too blind to see, or to believe.

FIFTEEN

JUST BEFORE NIGHTFALL, WES AND HIS SMALL BANDreached a little town deep in the hill country called New Braunfels. They were traveling farther south, where winter didn’t settle so harshly across the land. This area of Texas was thick with German settlements, New Braunfels being one of the first. Though many of the Germans had settled the land two generations ago, in the 1830s, they’d kept to themselves with hard-working ways and little interest in learning English. Their love for the new land seemed great, but old ways clung to them like comfortable clothes.

Wes rode silently through the sleepy little town. Unlike many settlements its size, New Braunfels was clean, with wide streets and spotless storefronts. The churches, schools, and barbershops were already here.

As they reached the far end of town and headed out, Wes turned and whispered to Allie, ‘‘I know a place we can stay tonight since you hate hotels.’’

She nodded and eased her grip around his waist.

Wes patted her arm, understanding her if not her reasons. ‘‘During the war, there were many families in Texas loyal to the Union.’’ He’d also noticed she seemed to relax when he talked, so he started his story in a low voice. ‘‘Most didn’t say much about it, just went about their business. But one farmer, whose place was not far from town, let his feelings be known when Texas left the Union. One night, late into the war when most everyone had lost a son or father to the fighting, a band of men descended on his place. As folks tell the story, the farmer and his sons had just sat down to supper and met the mob without a single gun in hand.’’

Wes paused, picking his way down an overgrown road no one traveled. ‘‘The band demanded the farmer and his sons come outside. Then in front of the women and children, they hanged the men from the barn rafters. As they rode off, they set fire to the barn.

‘‘No one did anything about the crime. The farmer’s youngest son to die was thirteen. Folks didn’t talk about it much at the time, some probably from fear, some from guilt. It was just something that happened in war, and there was nothing to be done.’’

Allie leaned her cheek against Wes’s back. While she’d been living alone in her cave all those years, the world must have gone mad. She wished she could go back to her hideaway. People made no sense.