Cole scooped him up before he could grab the brass door handle. “Hang on, Mac.” He hoisted the boy on his hip and opened the door.
Frantic, Rebecca stared up at him. Wisps of hair had fallen loose from the chignon and framed her tear-streaked face. His gut clenched with sadness at the sight of her, before he ruthlessly subdued the tender emotion.
Rebecca managed a bright smile for Mac. “Hey, big guy. What do you have in your hand?”
“Money,” he said, calming at the sight of her.
“You’re rich.” She met Cole’s gaze. “Can we talk, please?”
“About what?”
“About everything.” Desperation punctuated her words. “What are you going to do?”
“Pack up the boys and leave.”
Her face crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes. “Where are you taking them?”
“California, likely.”
Teardrops spilled down her cheeks. “That’s so far. Mac won’t understand. He doesn’t even know you.”
“He will in time,” he said unable to keep the venom from his voice.
“I’m his mother.”
“Lily was his mother.”
“I am his mother now.”
“Mama,” Mac said. His bottom lip started to quiver as he squirmed in Cole’s arms.
Cole held the child tight. “You can pack a bag for him or I can, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Her hands shook as she reached out to Mac. “Please, don’t do this. Surely, we can come up with an arrangement.”
“You were willing to shut me out of my son’s life completely.”
She winced. “And I will always regret that.”
He didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer, but she deserved it. She’d tried to steal his son. She’d broken his heart.
“Good.” He slammed the door in her face.
Rebecca knew the true meaning of hell.
She sat on Mac’s bed, numb and unable to think or move. The air trapped in her lungs bore down on her heart like granite. She was losing her baby.
She glanced down on the floor and saw Mac’s blanket lying next to a pile of toys. She lifted the downy soft cotton blanket and rubbed it against her cheek. It held Mac’s scent, a sweet blend of milk and his own musk.
“My baby.” Rocking, she clutched the blanket to her chest and started to cry again.
Bess found Rebecca then. She went to her and wrapped her arms around Rebecca. “What’s he gonna do?”
“He’s taking Mac and Dusty away to California.”
“California! He can’t take them that far away.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve pleaded with him. But he’s too angry to listen.”
“Then I’ll talk to him.”
“I don’t think it’ll do any good.”
“Maybe when he cools off, he’ll see things in a different light. In the morning, perhaps.”
“He’s leaving today.” It hurt to speak. “I’m supposed to be packing Mac’s clothes now.”
Bess’s face tightened. “I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
“It’s like a terrible nightmare.”
Bess rose. “I’ll talk to Cole.”
“I don’t think he’ll listen.”
Her chin trembled. “Well, that ain’t gonna stop me from trying.”
Rebecca watched Bess leave. When the door closed she heard the older woman knock on Cole’s door. Cole’s door opened. There was an exchange of words. His door closed. Bess’s soft sobs drifted down the hallway.
Rebecca dug her fingernails into her palms.
It was as if she were watching actors on a stage. Any minute she expected intermission and the actors to take their bows. And the horror of it all would be over.
She rose slowly, her knees almost too weak to hold her weight. In a trance, she made her way over to the small wooden chest where she stored Mac’s clothes. She swung open the lid and peered inside at the collection of clothes.
An infant’s gown caught her eye. She picked up the white linen nightie, marveling that Mac had ever been so small. Bess had said it was foolish for Rebecca to keep the clothes. After all, the doctor had said she’d likely never have another child, yet she’d clung to the garments and the memories that came with them.
Rebecca had nursed Mac, cared for him through the chicken pox and scarlet fever and now, God help her, she had to give him up.
She clutched the gown to her face. It didn’t matter that her heart was breaking. What mattered was Mac. She needed to be strong and pack the things that gave him comfort.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled out fresh diapers, pants, shirts and socks for her son. Numb, she rose and shoved the items in a cloth bag. She picked up the blanket and hugged it once again. Reluctantly, she pushed it into the bag.
When she dragged herself downstairs, Cole and the boys waited for her. He’d saddled his horse and packed his and Dusty’s few belongings into his saddlebags. Mac sat on the saddle, holding on to the pommel. He look so small—just a baby. Dusty held the reigns, standing tall and proud. Worry lines etched his forehead.
Around them stood Gladys and Gene Applegate, Prudence, Seth, Wade and a collection of other people. They all stood silently watching, their expressions grim.
Bess rushed out with a pail stuffed with food and covered with a checkered cloth. Her eyes were puffy and red. “I packed you food for the road.”
Cole shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Bess started to cry and Wade hugged her to his chest.
Prudence dabbed a handkerchief to her red eyes. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Gene Applegate stepped past Prudence ignoring her sobs. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “What about the mine? You’re still gonna reopen it, aren’t you?”
Cole tightened his fist. “No. You’re on your own.”
“But we need you,” Mrs. Applegate protested.
Cole shrugged. “Too bad.”
“We’ll waive the taxes,” Gene said.
“I don’t want anything from you or anyone else in this town.”
Rebecca pushed past Gene and stepped up to Cole, Mac’s bag clutched in her fingers. “Don’t do this. We all want you to stay.”
His face looked chiseled of granite. “Are those Mac’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
He reached for the bag, but she clutched it tight. Their fingers brushed and for an instant their gazes locked. She imagined she saw a hint of pity in his cold green eyes, but it was gone so quickly she was certain she’d imagined it.
Cole McGuire had no heart.
“I’ve packed his blanket and plenty of diapers. Have you ever changed a diaper?”
“I’ll manage.”
Her brows knotted. “The blue pants are his favorite and I’ve packed his white nightshirt. It’s stained, but he won’t sleep without it.”
Cole ripped the bag from her hands.
“If you stayed an extra day or two, I could teach you how to care for him.”
“I’ll figure it out.” He strode over to the horse, tied the bag to his saddle and hoisted himself up behind Mac, then in one clean move he pulled Dusty up behind him.
“Mama!” Mac called.
Dusty sniffed. “Miss Rebecca. I sure am going to miss you.”
Rebecca staggered forward. Her fingers grazed Cole’s hard leg. Her stomach clenched. There was no one to help her. No one to stop this horrible nightmare. “My boys.”
She grabbed ahold of Cole’s leg. She stared up into his face silhouetted by the afternoon sun. “Mac hates green beans and he hates the dark. Make sure someone teaches Dusty his letters. He’s smart and a fast learner.”
Cole gripped the reins. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Cole, don’t do this,” she sobbed, praying she’d reach him. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Goodbye, Rebecca.” He kicked his heels into the horse’s side, goading him forward.
Rebecca dropped to her knees, unm
indful of the dirt and mud staining her dress. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She realized she had bitten her lip so hard, it bled.
Chapter Twelve
The small campfire Cole had built cracked and sputtered as if it couldn’t decide whether it should go out or catch. A freshly skinned rabbit, still half-raw, hung on a makeshift spit over the flames. Stars twinkled around thunderclouds and the wind howled.
With Dusty at his side, Cole reclined on an army blanket spread over the hard ground, Mac in his arms. The boy had finally fallen into a light sleep, but the slightest movement startled him awake.
Dusty squatted in front of the fire, his hands stretched toward the flames and a blanket draped over his shoulders. “Maybe, we should go home.”
“We’re not going back.”
Dusty’s lips curved down. “I was getting mighty used to sleeping in a bed and eating hot food.”