"Hit him?" Garret gaped, stunned.
"Yep. Never saw her do that before, even when Renny was being the most try—annical spalpeen in the world."
Garret didn't even try to understand the outlandish label; he was still reeling from the knowledge the boy had so guilelessly imparted.
"You're telling me Ashl—I mean Sister Ash—struck Renny?"
"Didn't give him a bloody nose, though. He deserved one, after everything he said about you an' her."
Garret got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the wondrous abandon he had found in Ashleen's arms only a stone's throw away from the wagon and Renny O'Manion's glowering eyes.
"Renny said she was gonna run off with you an' leave us in an orphanage again, 'cause you don't like kids. An' Sister Ash cried, but Renny wouldn't listen."
"Damn it to hell." They had fought over him? Garret could envision the scene far too clearly.
"Don't worry, Mr. MacQuade," Liam's earnest voice cut in. "I don't think she hit 'im cause of you anyway. It was what he called Meggie that did it. 'Bout her bein' a half-wit."
No wonder the boy was being eaten alive with guilt, Garret thought.
He glared up at the lean-to on the rise. If Meggie Kearny died, there was no God. For only a deity spawned of hell would put a boy like Renny through such agonies, would heedlessly crush a woman as loving as Ashleen, would end the life of the little dark-haired child who had given Garret his first sweet taste of hope renewed.
Garret's jaw clenched. It was as if Liam's innocent confession had infused him with newfound strength. "I'm going up to the lean-to," he said in something much like his old firm voice. "You run over by Renny. Sit there a while, all quiet, for me, Liam. Even if he doesn't want to talk to you."
The child looked like a soldier going into battle, but he gave a gap-toothed grin. "Renny'll have to give me two bloody noses to get me to go away." Liam scratched at his chin. " 'Course, I only got one...."
Garret's lips twitched, and he wanted to draw the little boy into an embrace, to feel the warmth in him, the bubbling of optimism Garret had sacrificed to life's hardships long ago. He satisfied himself by squeezing the little boy's hand.
"Do this for me, Liam, and I'll show you a fighting trick a Sioux warrior taught me. Then Renny'll never get close enough to your nose again to do any damage."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The boy looked up at Garret for long seconds, his babe-soft brow crinkling in bemusement. "Know what, Mr. MacQuade?" he said at last. "I wish you could be our da. Stay with us all the time in Texas forever an' ever."
Garret felt as if the kid had punched him in the gut.
Nothing lasts forever, he wanted to tell the boy, but he couldn't get the words past the tightness in his throat.
Instead he said gruffly, "Go on now." And watched as the boy stumped away on the crutch the two of them had painted with bright dragon patterns one rainy, dismal day.
Garret started up the hill.
I wish you would stay forever....
Hadn't the child Garret said the same thing to Kennisaw on countless times when the frontiersman had wandered past Stormy Ridge, only to wander away again when his feet got restless? Hadn't he said the same thing to his father the day they had first driven their aged wagon up to the rise that was to be their home? He had run to the edge of a nearby cliff and had called down that they would be there forever, the words echoing back at him as if the spirit of the wilderness had given its blessing.
The cliffs, the cabin, the timber, and MacQuades on MacQuade land forever...
He was the only one left alive of those who had celebrated on that wonderful night while Kennisaw's fiddle had sung to the moon, Lily MacQuade's feet whirling in a dance that had drawn an indulgent smile from Garret's stoic father. Even Tom MacQuade had been drawn into the festive spirit, one big boot stomping in time while he watched his wife with loving eyes.
That night, when Garret was supposed to be asleep under the wagon, he had lain awake watching the stars appear. He had listened to his parents' voices rising and falling, alive with dreams meant to be shared only in the privacy of their big feather bed.
Garret had heard his mother's teasing, his father's laughter, and he had known that they were kissing when their voices at last fell silent. It had been so damn comforting, knowing they were there together. It had seemed that nothing bad could ever touch them.
But the ugliness, the pain had been lurking about the cliffs face even then, waiting. Just as Meggie's fever had waited on the edge of Ashleen's bright laughter the night they had made love.
He had nearly crested the hill when he saw her. He froze. She was bent over Meggie, her golden hair tangled over the child's narrow chest, her face buried in shaking hands as sobs racked her.
