Chapter Eleven
It was twilight the next night when Candice rode through the fortified walls of the High C.
The gate, of course, had been closed and barred, but the sentry recognized her and swung the heavy door open.
That produced the usual result, and she had gotten only halfway to the low, long adobe house when her family came pouring out, Little John in the lead.
“Good God, Candice,” he shouted, whipping her off the horse and into his strong, warm arms. She clung to him, laughing.
He whirled her around and passed her to Mark, almost as tall as their younger brother.
Then Luke, the oldest, was embracing her wordlessly, before she was swept into her father’s arms. By now she was crying.
“Are you all right?” John Carter demanded, peering into her face.
“Yes, yes, Pop, I’m so sorry.”
“We’ll get into that,” he assured her.
“Where in hell is Kincaid?” Mark demanded.
Candice pressed against her father, who still had his arm around her as they started to the house. Luke said, “Easy, boy, give her a chance.”
“I think I’ll kill Kincaid” was Mark’s hot retort.
“Whose horse?” John-John was asking. “Are you alone, for Christ’s sake?”
“John-John,” his father reproved.
Candice saw the husky form of Maria, who had raised her after her mother had left, and she rushed forward for another embrace. The big Mexican woman was crying. “Candita, how could you? You put us all to hell!”
“I’m so sorry,” Candice cried, meaning it.
Inside, Maria ordered her niece Conchita to prepare a bath. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Candice replied. Maria left and she turned to face her family, flushing with guilt because now the lies would start.
“Where is Kincaid?” her father asked.
“I’m going to kill him if he touched you before the wedding,” Mark said.
Her color went deeper. She looked at Luke, not the tallest and not the shortest but the coolest, then at her father. “Kincaid is dead. There was a robbery. Right after the wedding. I was in shock, and I had to get out of there. I got a horse and left.”
They all stared in dumbfounded silence.
“Candice, I’m sorry,” her father finally said.
Candice’s mouth began to tremble. “Oh, Pop. It was awful,” she said, thinking of how Virgil had betrayed her and tried to rape her, and how she’d had to defend herself.
Her father hugged her again. Then he raised her chin sternly. “Where is there?” he asked.
She started chewing a nail. “Fort Yuma.”
More stares and more silence. Little John broke it. “God, Candice! You left alone—you came alone—all the way—alone!”
She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry.”
Even Luke was looking appalled. “I can’t believe it,” he said. She gave him a pleading look, and he softened and hugged her.
“Well, at least Kincaid got what he deserved,” Mark said.
“Mark,” John reproved.
“I don’t care. He ran off with our sister. She’s gonna never live that down. Who’ll want to marry her now?”
Candice inhaled sharply. She should have known Mark wouldn’t hold back, and it was true—it would be even more true if they knew she’d never married Kincaid, and if they knew about the half-breed.…
“Mark, that’s raw,” Luke said. “I don’t think Candice will have too much of a problem. Tim McGraw’s asked her three times this year, and Judge Reinhart was about to pop the question before she eloped. It’ll be just a matter of time.”
Candice gave Luke a grateful look. Her father affirmed what Luke had said, adding, “Besides, there’s no rush, and there’s mourning to think of.” He reached out to hug her. “Honey, it’s so good to have you back.”
Candice smiled back, relieved.
She tried not to think about stealing Jack Savage’s horse.
She had a niggling thought. He wouldn’t come looking for his horse—would he?
She assured herself that he would not. The guilt was too much to bear, so it was easier to put it out of her mind and concentrate on the reunion with her family.
After the warmth came the lecturing, which she staunchly braved.
And when she finally crumpled into bed, she said a brief prayer of thanks to the Lord, asking for forgiveness for the murder, and the lies and the horse-stealing.
And why, God, was it the last that preyed on her mind and nerves? She had killed a man, but all she could think about was stealing an Apache’s horse while he lay sleeping and wounded.