The Tribute Page 19

  “Over and done.” Trevor held out his hand and Brett shook it.

  “Nope, ain’t gonna do it.” With a laugh, they both stood and embraced.

  “One more thing. Okay two more,” Trevor said after they both sat back down. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the ranch and how did you and Kincaid end up as friends?”

  “Oh, the ranch.” Brett took a big gulp of coffee. “I didn’t tell anyone about it, not just you. It was the first thing I had that was mine and I guess I just wanted to keep it that way, until I was ready to take it over. Then I found out it was the biggest place for rats to mate.”

  Trevor snorted and slapped his knee. “Sounds fragrant.”

  “It was, believe me. I never saw so much mouse shit in my life.”

  “Fertilizer.” Trevor grinned. “What about Kincaid?”

  Brett tried to explain it. “He and I are alike. Somehow, deep down, we’re of the same cloth, don’t know how the hell that happened, but it did. I kind of…found a friendship I didn’t know I’d been missing.”

  Trevor clapped him on the shoulder. “Well I hope he makes it okay. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Just keep an eye on the herd. With King in jail, I don’t think anything will happen, but I’d feel better knowing you, Ray and Noah were watching for me.” Brett still didn’t like asking for help, but it got easier each time.

  “No problem. I’m on my way there now. Good luck.”

  With another handshake, Trevor left Brett alone in the parlor for a long night.

  He paced and tried to read, then paced some more. Each time he peeked in at Kincaid, the other man slept on. Around three in the morning, Brett made another pot of coffee. He poured himself a nice healthy mugful, then went to the examining room to check on his friend.

  “Damn, that coffee smells good. You’re going to share, right?”

  Brett almost dropped the cup on his foot. Kincaid’s eyes were wide open and clear. In fact, he was sitting up looking as if he hadn’t been shot twelve hours earlier.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Yep, I noticed that. So, what about the coffee?”

  Brett stepped into the room and handed the mug to Kincaid. He took it with trembling hands and cupped the hot brew. Leaning over the mug, he took a sniff.

  “I think I feel better just smelling this elixir of the gods. Thanks, Brett.” Kincaid took a tentative sip, then a gulp. “Ahhh.”

  “I thought you were going to die,” Brett blurted.

  Kincaid arched one dark eyebrow. “I did.”

  That didn’t make any sense at all. He figured Kincaid had something to say so he didn’t respond. Usually silence made people jabber on, one of Brett’s most effective weapons against his brothers growing up.

  “You see I figured, no matter what happened I’d die on that street. I tried”—he swallowed hard—“I tried to make a life without using my guns, but they jumped into my hands again.”

  Brett sat on the edge of the examining table. “So, are you saying you want to be dead?”

  Kincaid sighed. “No, but I have to be. No matter if I try to run from it, my past will catch me sooner or later.” He glanced at Brett. “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of it.”

  “That’s a load of shit. I wasn’t hurt and neither was Alex.”

  “But you almost were. I saw your idiot ass ride in and then Alex. Foolhardy woman. Thought she was a goner for sure.” He shook his head. “Don’t you see, killing follows me sure as a dog follows his nose.”

  Brett understood what Kincaid was trying to say. He’d spent so long being a gunslinger that his life revolved around it. Any step to the left or right brought the gunslinging right back to him. What a crushing blow to accept.

  “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “But you know I’m not.”

  Brett nodded. “You know you’re always welcome at the Square One, no matter what you decide. I know I speak for me, Alex and Mason when I say we’d like you to stay.”

  Kincaid cleared his throat and swallowed a huge gulp of the coffee. He wheezed and held his side as the hot brew slid into him. “Shit that’s hot.”

  “Thus the entire purpose of hot coffee.”

  Kincaid chuckled rustily. “And you say you’re not funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. I was just telling the truth.”

  With a grin, Kincaid took another, smaller mouthful of coffee. “I’m going to miss the ranch.”

  “We’ll miss you too. Guess there’s no chance you’ll stay right?” Brett hoped Kincaid would change his mind, but he knew his friend wouldn’t. It wasn’t a simple decision, and it couldn’t be changed easily.

  “Nope. I probably won’t say goodbye either. Just keep my horse at the livery for me and I’ll leave when I’m able.” A flash of ancient pain passed through his dark eyes. “Thank you for everything, Brett. Strange as it may seem, I think you’re the first man I call friend.”

  “Not strange at all.” Brett fought against the damn lump forming in his throat. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  They sat together and talked for another half an hour until Kincaid’s eyelids drooped. Brett took the mug and made sure he was covered, then said goodbye to his friend as silently as the night around him.

  ———

  The sun arrived full of summer heat. After a restless night, Alex found Brett sleeping on the settee in the parlor. His neck was bent at an awkward angle. It hurt her just to look at him. She leaned down and kissed him. He awoke in an instant, startled and frantic.

  “Jesus Christ! Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

  “Yes, everything is okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She hid a grin behind her hand. His hair looked like he’d been pulling at it for hours and the whiskers lent him an air of sexiness.

  “It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “How is he?”

  “He’s fine. Resting comfortably. Kincaid insists he’s leaving in the next two days. Stubborn idiot.” She touched the cut above his eye and the bruise on his jaw. “You should have let me doctor you.”

  “You did.”

  “One bullet graze doesn’t count.” She frowned. “You’ve got some cuts here that might need stitches.”

  Brett scowled. “I don’t need any more stitches, thank you very much.”

  She laughed and kissed him again. “That lawyer Carson was at the door a few minutes ago. Said your case was being heard in an hour.”

  Brett looked like a deer in a hunter’s sights. “Oh my God. I forgot about the case. Hell, I look like shit and I smell pretty bad too. That’s not going to win any case for me.”

  He struggled to stand and Alex touched his arm.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Carson went to go have breakfast. You can shave with my father’s razor and Trevor brought by clothes for you.”

  Brett let out a breath. “Thank God for family. Okay, let me get cleaned up and I’ll go find that Carson fella.”

  He stood and started to walk out of the room, then stopped and came back. Brett cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her breathless.

  “Thank you, Alex, for everything. For saving my life, for saving Kincaid and for loving me.”

  Alex stood there like an idiot for several minutes while her lips tingled and her heart beat a steady tattoo. God, she loved that man.

  ———

  Brett stood outside the meeting hall and pulled at his collar. Sweat dripped down his back from the heat and the fear that weighed heavily on him. Just the thought of losing everything to the drunk son of a bitch who stood nearby made him sick to his stomach. Tim Green stood beside Parker, avoiding Brett’s gaze. He should. The lousy bastard had sold his soul to a devil named King.

  Parker Samson was barely conscious and looked as if he’d spent the night swimming in a vat of whiskey. He smelled, he was dirty, and his eyes kept closing. God knows when the man last bathed.

  Brett felt a smidge better about
his own appearance, but not much. He’d shaved, but almost cut his own throat because his hand shook. His hair was combed and his face clean, and at least his clothes were presentable.

  Carson stood beside him, papers in hand, not a drop of sweat in sight. It had to be nearly eighty degrees already and the dapper man looked like he was in a drawing room instead of a dusty street in Wyoming.

  “I heard from my colleague in Houston.” Carson spoke to Brett quietly. “He found the information we needed.”

  Brett’s eyes widened. “What did he find?”

  “Apparently—”

  A young man with slicked-back hair poked his head out the door. “The judge is ready for you now.”

  Whatever Carson was going to say had to wait. He was a smart man, and Brett had confidence that whatever he found would only help his case.

  The two men and their attorneys marched into the meeting hall. Judge Harris was a stern-looking man with silver hair and dark eyes. He sat behind a desk so Brett could not tell his height, but he intimidated the hell out of him anyway.

  Four ladder back chairs sat in front of him.

  “Sit.” Judge Harris gestured to the chairs and the four of them sat. Or rather, three of them sat. Parker fell into his chair. The judge frowned at him. “Are you all right, young man?”

  “Just fine.” Parker let loose a belch.

  The judge quirked one eyebrow but didn’t say anything else to him. “This case in front of me today is one Parker Samson versus Brett Malloy. Are both parties and their attorneys present?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Carson answered. “Carson Fuller for Brett Malloy.”

  “T-Tim Green for Parker Samson.” The lawyer’s glance skittered across Brett. Too bad he had nothing to throw at the son of a bitch.

  “I’ve reviewed the claim by Mr. Samson on the property in question. Does anyone have any additional evidence to introduce?”

  “Yes, I do, Your Honor.” Carson stood. “I have researched the progeny of Martin Samson with the assistance of the Attorney General in Houston.”

  A friend? Carson was friends with the Attorney General? Brett had to admit he was impressed.

  “Go on.” The judge gestured with his hand.

  “Apparently Martin and Bernice Samson had two sons. Parker Samson died when he was ten years old, and the other, Dwayne Samson was disowned twenty years ago.” Carson held up two pieces of paper. “I have Parker’s death certificate and Martin Samson’s will disowning Dwayne. I also have information that one Dwayne Samson is wanted in three counties in Texas for fraud. My assumption is, Your Honor, that Dwayne is using his brother’s identity to avoid jail.”

  Parker, or more than likely Dwayne, sat up straight and swallowed hard. “That’s a lie. I ain’t disowned. I mean, I ain’t dead.”

  Tim Green shushed him.

  “Hand that up here, young man.”

  Carson brought the papers to the judge and returned to Brett with a small ghost of a smile on his face.

  After scanning the documents, the judge glanced up at them. “Does anyone else want to speak before I pass judgment?”

  Carson glanced at Brett. “Would you like to speak?”

  Brett’s tongue froze right along with his brain. Him, speak?

  “It’s your property, so it’s your choice,” Carson offered.

  Brett swallowed and glanced at the judge. The intimidating expression hadn’t changed. In fact, he looked even more annoyed than before.

  “Yes, I’d like to say something.”

  “Well, get on with it then, I’ve got another case to hear today and I’ve got to get over to Hawk’s Bend before noon.” Judge Harris straightened the papers in front of him.

  Brett stood. “I, um, never expected to have my own ranch, sir. When I won it from old Martin, I mean, Martin Samson, I tried to give it back. He asked me to take care of it after he was gone. I gave him my word I would.” He took a breath. “I’ve kept my word and put my heart and soul into that ranch. Fixed up the house and the barn, even put a herd on the property. I’ve lived here in Cheshire all my life and I’ll be proud to raise my children here. Uh, thank you.”

  The judge glanced at Tim, who fidgeted in his seat. “Anything for Mr. Samson? Parker or Dwayne?”

  Parker jerked and looked like a scared rabbit. “I ain’t got nothing to say.”

  Tim cleared his throat. “Parker is the rightful heir to Martin Samson’s property, therefore the ranch should be his.”

  “That about it?” The judge speared Tim with his sharp gaze.

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Hmph, okay then. I’m ready to pass judgment on this case.” He pointed his finger at Brett. “I find for Mr. Malloy. Case closed.”

  Brett sat there staring at the older man while Carson stood and started to walk away. Jim appeared and took Parker’s arm with a grin.

  “I’ve got a cell with your name on it, Samson.”

  Parker whined while Tim ran like a rat deserting a sinking ship.

  “Brett?” Carson looked back at him.

  “Mr. Malloy, is there anything else?” Judge Harris frowned.

  “Just wanted to say thank you.”

  “No need to thank me. It was a legal judgment, not a personal one.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me. I say thank you when folks do me a kindness, even if it’s a legal one. So, thank you.” He stuck out his trembling hand and the judge shook it.

  “You’re welcome, young man. Make sure you work that ranch well.”

  Brett smiled. “I plan on it.”

  Brett walked out of the meeting hall feeling a thousand pounds lighter. Carson waited for him outside.

  “I’m glad it all worked out, Brett. I’m going to head back to Cheyenne today.”

  “Thank you for everything, Carson. If I can ever return the favor, you just holler.” Brett shook the other man’s hand.

  Carson inclined his head and walked toward his waiting mount. That’s when Brett saw Alex. She stood beside Rusty with anxiety written all over her pretty face. He ran toward her and scooped her up into his arms.

  “I won. The ranch is ours, honey. All ours.”

  She squealed and hung onto his neck, raining kisses all over his face. “Oh, Brett, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Ahem, you two want to stop that?” Trevor said from behind them. “Makes me miss my Adelaide something fierce. You probably don’t want to see me when I’m missing my woman.”

  Brett laughed and set Alex on her feet. “How’s Kincaid?”

  “He’s fine. Margaret came in to spell me so I could be here.” She touched his cheek. “Jim came by and told me King is being charged with Papa’s murder.” Tears stood in her eyes.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear he’ll pay for killing at least one person. No doubt he’s done it before.” Brett looked at Trevor. “Will you ride back to the Square One with me before you leave?”

  “Of course. I’ve got something to show you anyway.” Trevor winked at Alex and she chuckled.

  “What are you two up to?”

  “Nothing. Not a thing. No sirree, not a thing.” Trevor whistled as he mounted Silver. “Coming, big brother?”

  With an annoyed grunt, Brett helped Alex onto Rowdy then mounted his own horse. The three of them rode out to the Square One together. Everything looked normal. Except Mason.

  The boy was clean, really clean. Not just quick wash with soap, but squeaky clean with new clothes too. He stood next to the corral grinning. Ray leaned on the post, arms folded across his chest.

  “About time you got back to your ranch,” Ray groused. “I was about to grow cobwebs waiting on you.”

  “What are you talking about? I was in t—”

  The words flew from his mouth when he saw the bull. A big, beautiful bull roaming the pasture behind the barn, safely behind a brand-new fence. His heart nearly stopped.

  “Is that my bull?”

  “Yes, it surely is. I kept it over at my place until this morning.” Ray smi
led. “Trevor brought it with him from Cheyenne from a rancher named Asa Keenan. Kincaid wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “That’s an understatement. It’s…it’s wonderful.” Brett’s breath hitched as he struggled to absorb all the good news he’d had. It was almost too much until Alex touched him. She slid her hand into his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “He’s a beauty. What will you call him?”

  “Martin. I’m going to call him Martin.” And with a little luck, Martin would make the Square One a thriving ranch. Everything was coming together.

  “One more surprise for you in the house. Don’t blame me. It was all Mama’s doing.” Ray shook his hand. “I’m gonna head back home.”

  Brett told himself those were not tears in his eyes. “Thanks, Ray. For everything.”

  “Anytime, brother. Anytime.”

  After Ray rode away, Trevor and Mason disappeared into the barn. Alex linked her arm through his.

  “Shall we look in the house?” She grinned.

  “Might as well get it over with. God knows what Mama did in there.”

  They walked in together and Brett stopped dead in his tracks. Furniture, curtains, even a damn rug by the fireplace. A table and chairs, one he recognized from Ray’s house, a couch from his parents’ house, and a cushioned chair that used to belong to his grandparents. Sitting on the back of the couch, a new sign for the ranch, freshly made with Brett’s name. His throat tightened.

  “Where did all this come from?” Alex glanced around.

  “My family. Looks like things they haven’t been using or didn’t need.” Brett’s heart couldn’t get much fuller.

  “Should we check out the bedroom?” Alex waggled her eyebrows.

  Brett closed the front door with a grin. “By all means.”

  They walked into the bedroom to find a beautifully made bed, covered with a wedding ring quilt Brett didn’t recognize. More than likely his mother and her friends had been busy sewing since he’d told her about asking Alex to marry him.

  The quilt had varying shades of green, brown and blue. A vase of flowers sat on a small table beside the bed, a mixture of buds that grew wild. They filled the room with their beautiful scent.