Karen Whiddon - The Texan's Return

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Mac murmured in her ear. “Just go over and say hello, then I promise I’ll figure out a way for you and your brother to beat a hasty retreat.”

Retreat. Like a coward. Except he was right. Retreating was all she wanted, with every fiber of her body. She wanted to snatch Eli up and run.

Instead, she found herself taking one step, then two. She stopped when a good three feet separated her from the man in the bed.

Gus’s faded gray eyes, so like Mac’s, searched her face. “You came to see my son?” he asked, hope lightening the raspy exhaustion in his voice.

Heaven help her, she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. Why? Why was that? This man had all but destroyed everything important to her.

Instead of outright denial, she settled on the truth. “I came to get my little brother Eli. His other brother told me where he’d gone.”

“Tom?” Eli squeaked, shocked and hurt all at once. “He promised he wouldn’t tell.”

“Well, maybe he realized he needed to,” she retorted back. She held out her hand for him to take, aware the second their fingers connected, they’d beat a fast track to the door.

Meeting her gaze, Eli slowly shook his head. He cut his eyes toward the man in the bed. “I’m not finished yet.”

“It’s okay.” Gus sighed, clearly exhausted from even this brief interaction. “You go ahead and go. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

Not if she could help it.

Opening his eyes again, Gus pinned her with his gaze. “But first, I’d like a word with you in private.”

While she searched for a way to decline without alerting Eli to the fact that something was wrong, Mac grabbed Eli’s hand and tugged him toward the door. “We’ll be just outside on the front porch,” he said. “Take all the time you need.” When he caught Hailey’s eye, she saw the entreaty there, the plea to remember this was his father and he was dying.

She knew that. What she couldn’t forget was that this man had murdered her sister and destroyed everything she held dear.

Swallowing hard, she steeled herself to get through the next minute.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Gus said, once everyone else had gone. “It means a lot to me, considering how you once believed the unthinkable. I hate that this happened again to another girl, but at least that forces people to see the truth. I can at least die happy knowing that you know I didn’t kill your sister.”

Throat tight, she stared. She could picture June’s reaction here, something incoherently vindictive or violent or both. She felt a bit like she was letting her mother down, but for whatever reason she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than listen.

Apparently taking her silence for acquiescence, Gus continued. “Mac has promised to get the case reopened. Now that the police know someone else killed this latest girl, they should be willing to take a look at Brenda’s murder, too. It’s about time the real murderer is brought to justice. I’m hoping he can clear my name before I die.”

Two things struck her. One, Gus’s father truly believed what he said. And two, was it possible he had a point? All along, he’d maintained his innocence, claiming the police were railroading him into a conviction, with trumped-up evidence and no real proof.

If this was true—and she wasn’t certain it was—Gus Morrison had spent ten years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. What a bitter pill to swallow if that was the case. To have been robbed of ten years of your now-too-short life for nothing.

“He missed you, you know,” Gus continued on, the raspy thread of his voice wearing thin.

This comment startled her, making her blink. “Who?” she asked, even though she knew.

“Mac. He never forgot you. I think he might still carry a torch for you.” Gus’s eyes drifted closed again. “If everything works out, please take care of my son after I’m gone. He won’t have anyone else.”

Since she couldn’t in a million years agree to a promise like that, she stood silently, staring down at the man who for the past decade she’d regarded as a monster. What if he was telling the truth? What if—and this might be a huge stretch—he wasn’t actually the one who’d killed Brenda and torn two families and an entire town apart?

Even as she had this thought, she clenched her jaw and shook her head. Enough of this foolishness. Mac and Gus returning to Legacy had done nothing but dredge up the past. Their presence had brought pain and uncertainty right back to the surface.

Gus’s eyes drifted closed. Even though she hadn’t responded, she took this as her cue to exit. Moving noiselessly, she went to the door. Outside, Mac and Eli sat on the top step of the porch. They both looked up as she approached.

“Ready to go?” she asked her brother, keeping her tone light and avoiding Mac’s gaze.

“Can’t I stay a little longer?” Eli pleaded. “Mac’s promised to teach me how to hit a baseball. You know I’ve always wanted to play in Little League. If he helps me practice, I might get better at it.”

She swallowed, trying not to let herself feel guilty. Every single year since Eli had been old enough, he’d begged to join Little League. Unfortunately, they barely had enough money to buy food to feed the family. They simply couldn’t afford it, so every year she’d had to tell him no. Undeterred, he’d ask the next year. As if things had changed. She guessed since he was so young, he didn’t understand.

“I can drive him home after,” Mac added quietly. The afternoon sun lit up his dark hair with gold, shadowing his craggy face and reminding her how she’d used to find his raw masculinity beautiful. Despite the tingle in her veins every time she got near him, she needed to make sure all that stayed in the past.

Tears stinging the back of her eyes, she shook her head, steeling herself at Eli’s disappointed look. “Not today. Come on, Eli, let’s get going. I’m sure you have homework you need to do.”

Right about now, June would be staggering into the kitchen, rummaging around for something to eat. Their mother would go on a major binge if she found out about today. Of course, as her addiction to alcohol got steadily worse, June seized the slightest excuse to lose herself in drink.

Eli hesitated, disappointment and resignation plain on his young, freckled face. But he finally got up and went to get his bike.

“Let me help put that in your backseat,” Mac said.

Refusing to look at him, she nodded. Once the bike had been secured and Eli buckled in, she started the car and drove off without even saying goodbye to the man standing on the porch, watching them go.

Chapter 4

What had he expected, a miracle? Mac knew better, but when his father had asked to talk to Hailey, hope had risen in him so fast he nearly drowned in it.

But Hailey had emerged unchanged, at least as far as he could tell. She’d always been stubborn; in the old days he’d found it charming and amusing and often teased her about it.

Bless Eli for giving them this opportunity. Mac had been wracking his brain trying to figure out a way to get Hailey over here to talk to his dad. Now, thanks to one headstrong eleven-year-old, the chance had fallen into his lap. And while he wasn’t sure what his father had said to Hailey, at least he’d gotten the opportunity to say it.

He glanced at his watch. He might as well shower and call it a day. Too late to do much more. This morning he’d gotten started on repairing the roof. Luckily, in the ten years since graduating high school, he’d become a jack-of-all-trades. He’d gone to work for a local custom home builder in Huntsville and had learned a myriad of skills. Everything from carpentry to tile to roofing. In a pinch, he could also do basic electrical and plumbing, too, though he wasn’t licensed or certified. The skills would serve him well while he worked to fix up the old family house.