Читать книгу The Outlaw's Redemption - Renee Ryan - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Hunter watched the steady stream of emotions advance across Annabeth’s expressive face. He was able to track her thoughts easily enough. She didn’t trust him to take care of his own daughter. Not that he blamed her. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself.

How many times had he almost broken free of his past, only to be dragged back, sometimes willingly, sometimes not?

This time would be different.

Because this time he wanted something new, something within reach, something he’d never really wanted before—stability. Not only for himself, but for his daughter, as well.

I have a daughter.

Tenderness filled him, followed by an unbearable churning of the most terrifying emotion of all. Hope. That dangerous, slippery belief that all would turn out well in the end.

Perhaps, for once, it would. Hunter simply had to believe. He had to do his part, then let go and trust the Lord with the details.

His biggest obstacle was blinking up at him with those large, round eyes. Annabeth’s gaze had turned a startling shade of lavender in the muted light and Hunter’s gut clenched with...what? What was this feeling? Anticipation? An awakening?

Something far less pure?

A distraction he didn’t need right now.

Ignoring her for the moment, he turned his attention on Mattie. She smiled up at him, the gesture full of warmth. Few people knew this softer side of Mattie Silks. He smiled back, grateful she’d taken the time to contact him. He knew she’d done so for her own purposes, but the result was the same.

Partially to see what she would do, and partially out of impulse, he yanked the ornery woman into a hug so tight her feet lifted off the floor.

“You rogue.” She twisted and tugged and came up sputtering. “Put me down this instant.”

Grinning at her reaction, he set her back on her feet. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Mattie.” He tapped her on the nose. “You may count on it.”

“Yes, yes.” Cheeks flushed, she dismissed him with a curt shake of her head. “Go on with you now.”

Satisfied in the knowledge that he’d finally found a way to disconcert the unflappable Mattie Silks, he gave her a formal bow. Politeness personified, with a hint of mockery around the edges.

The woman deserved to lose some of her prideful composure. She’d contacted him in a letter, with the shocking news he had a nine-year-old daughter, leaving him to wonder for a full month what to do with the information.

He still wasn’t sure.

What he did know was that Mattie had insinuated herself in the matter for a very personal reason. Her daughter, Annabeth. Sarah’s aunt.

Hunter turned his attention back to the girl.

No. Not a girl, he reminded himself, a full-grown woman, one with a delicate bone structure, soft curves and a rich, throaty voice. Something about her calmed his soul. Even Jane hadn’t been able to do that, not for want of trying.

Blinking at the betraying thought, he ran a hand over his face. He was bone-tired, and surely that explained the disturbing direction his mind had taken.

As if somehow sensing his agitation, Annabeth touched his arm. “Come, Hunter.” He felt himself relax beneath her soft voice. “Let me walk you out.”

When had she developed that confidence in her manner? The last time he’d seen her she’d barely looked him in the eye.

Now she held his gaze with conviction.

“All right,” he said, realizing she still had something to say to him, something she didn’t want her mother to hear.

Hunter found himself intrigued.

Walking into the hallway ahead of him, Annabeth stopped short and looked over her shoulder. “I’ll only be a moment,” she said to her mother. “When I return, we’ll...talk.”

“I’ll be right here, darling.” Mattie Silks in an accommodating mood?

Curious.

“This way, Hunter.” Without waiting to see if he followed, Annabeth headed out. She directed him along a narrow corridor, past a row of closed doors and out into the moonlit night.

He drew in a lungful of fresh air, looked to his right then to his left. They were standing on the deserted street directly behind the brothel. A sense of foreboding took hold. Again, he felt eyes on him as if someone was silently tracking him, biding their time before pouncing.

He’d made enemies, but most were either serving their own prison sentences, or too busy watching their own backs to come looking for him.

A low-level hum of chatter, music and laughter flowed from somewhere in the near distance, probably from one of saloons down the lane, or a rival brothel. Another quick check of the surrounding area and Hunter relaxed, slightly. Other than a stray dog pawing at the ground, they were completely alone. No one was waiting for him, nor were there prying eyes to misunderstand this late-night meeting.

Clearly, Annabeth didn’t want anyone to see them together. Not that Hunter could blame her. With a mother like Mattie Silks and an outlaw father known as one of the meanest cutthroats in the territory, the woman had a lot to hide from the world. Cavorting with an ex-convict, no matter the reason, wouldn’t do her reputation a lick of good.

He looked down at his companion, noted how her troubled gaze went through a series of minor contortions. At the sight of her obvious worry, he felt an unfamiliar need to offer comfort, to let her know he wasn’t here to hurt her.

He touched her arm. “Annabeth.”

She took her time looking up at him. The ethereal beauty of her upturned face took his breath away. Leached of color in the silky moonlight, her exquisite features could have been carved from marble.

He could hardly bear to hold her gaze. He wanted to smooth away her concerns. But he didn’t know what they were, not entirely, and as he’d never been a gentle man, he knew nothing of tenderness or affection.

Perhaps she was concerned he would reveal her personal connection to Mattie to the rest of Denver. In that, at least, he could ease her mind. “Annabeth, I—”

“Hunter, I—”

They both fell silent.

“You first,” he said.

She took a quick, shallow breath and forged ahead. “I meant what I said earlier. Sarah has a good life at Charity House, safe and respectable. With me living there as well and teaching at the school, she’s not on her own. She’s...”

Her words trailed off, as though she wasn’t sure how much more to reveal.

Hunter smiled at her, the gesture inviting her to continue.

She did not.

He waited her out, taking note of how the soft glow from the streetlamp brushed her dark hair with golden light. For a long, tense moment, her eyes flickered over him, too, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t frightened of him, that much was evident, but she was wary.

For the first time since she’d barged into Mattie’s private rooms unannounced Hunter considered what his presence meant to Annabeth. How involved was she in Sarah’s day-to-day life?

With me living there and teaching at the school...

“How long have you been at Charity House?”

“Almost a year.”

She had more to say, but he saw her hesitation as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Go on, Annabeth.” He gentled his voice to a mere whisper. “Say your piece.”

“About tomorrow. I...don’t want you upsetting Sarah. I...” Not quite meeting his gaze, she drew to her full height before continuing. “What I mean to say is that she isn’t expecting you.”

Easy enough to put right. “Then you’ll tell her I’m coming.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Her chin shot up, her gaze full of challenge, the pose reminiscent of her notorious mother. “The situation is more complicated than that.”

At a loss for a reason behind her hostile tone, he eyed her closely. “Then maybe you should explain the situation to me.”

She braided her fingers together at her waist, a gesture Hunter was coming to recognize as a nervous habit, one that reared whenever she had something unpleasant to say.

He braced himself.

“Sarah doesn’t know she has a father.”

“You haven’t told her about me?” His voice was raw in his own ears. He hadn’t expected this, wasn’t sure how he felt about this new bit of information. Angry?

No. Disappointed.

“Try to understand. I didn’t want to disrupt her life, or give her false hope, in case you didn’t—” she spread her hands in a helpless gesture “—you know, want her.”

Now he was angry. The hot burst of emotion made his breath come in fast, hard spurts. He forced himself to speak slowly, to remember Annabeth didn’t know anything about the man he’d become since the judge had sentenced him to prison. “What made you think I wouldn’t want her?”

She looked pained and stressed. “It wouldn’t be the first time a father didn’t claim responsibility for a child living at Charity House.”

Was she speaking only for the children now, or was she thinking of herself, as well? Her own father had been a Mexican outlaw that hadn’t been known to stick in one place, or remain loyal to one woman, for long.

Hunter’s anger dissipated, turning into something close to sympathy. Considering her past, Annabeth’s reasoning made sense. But this wasn’t about her father. This was about Hunter, and whether or not he would make the moral choice. “Would you have told me about Sarah if Mattie hadn’t done so?”

“I don’t know.” Annabeth lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I’d like to think that I would have, eventually, but I just don’t know for certain.”

Appreciating her honesty, Hunter absorbed her words. For all intents and purposes, Annabeth had conspired to keep his daughter a secret from him and would have done so indefinitely if not for her mother’s interference. Did he blame her?

No, he didn’t. He knew countless men who’d walked away from far less responsibility than a child. At one point in his life, Hunter had been one of them.

That was then. This was now.

A swell of emotion spread through him, seeping into the darkest corners of his soul. After all he’d lost, dare he hope for this new beginning, this second chance to get it right?

He had to try, had to go at this logically, rationally. Anything was possible with God. Or as his mother was fond of saying: We can’t out-sin the Lord’s grace, or His forgiveness.

A good reminder.

Hunter needed to be alone, to think, to plan, to work through the particulars of what came next. “I’ll call at Charity House first thing in the morning.”

“Better make it after school,” she said. “Say, four o’clock?”

“Good enough.”

He turned to go.

“Hunter, wait.”

He stopped, but didn’t pivot back around.

“I think it best we don’t tell Sarah who you are, at least not at first.”

It was a good idea, a wise suggestion, all things considered. However, a part of him rebelled. He’d spent the past two years being told when to wake, when to work, when to eat. He’d had enough. “I’ll make that decision when I see the child for myself.”

“Hunter, please.” She hurried around him. “You can’t just show up out of the blue, claim a daughter you never knew you had and then make promises you can’t be sure to keep.”

He bristled at her unwarranted accusation. Hunter never made promises he couldn’t keep. Except once. Two people had ended up dead, one an innocent, one a very bad man.

Beneath his calm exterior, Hunter burned with remembered rage.

This time would be different, he told himself. Because he was different.

No more death, no more loss, no more bad decisions. “I didn’t say anything about making promises.”

“But—”

“One step at a time, Annabeth.” He flexed his fingers, stopped short of making a fist. “We’ll take this one step at a time.”

“One step at a time.” She repeated his words through tight lips. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”

He moved a fraction closer, inexplicably drawn to her despite the tension flowing between them.

Chin high, she held her ground. For three long seconds. Then, she scrambled backward. One step. Two.

Hunter had seen that same look in many gazes through the years, some he’d deliberately cultivated. Annabeth thought him a threat.

She was right.

If Sarah was his daughter, no one—not even her devoted aunt—would keep him from claiming her as his own.

* * *

Heart in her throat, pulse beating wildly through her veins, Annabeth watched Hunter disappear around the corner of her mother’s brothel. Nothing had prepared her for her first encounter with the man after all these years. She’d expected to meet a hardened criminal, an outlaw who’d earned his place in prison.

Annabeth had been wrong.

Ice-cold dread shivered across her skin. Hunter Mitchell was a man full of remorse. And hope. Yes, she’d seen the hope in him. It was that particular emotion that made her the most troubled. Ruthless and cruel, she could handle.

But a man with a desire to do the right thing?

How did she fight against that?

Was she supposed to even try?

She shivered, and not merely because Hunter could take Sarah away from her. In the depth of his eyes Annabeth had seen an aching loneliness that had called to her, one human to another, two lost souls searching for their place in a world that had dealt them cruel blows.

Now she was being fanciful.

Annabeth was never fanciful. She was practical, down to the bone. In that, at least, she was her mother’s daughter.

Speaking of Mattie...

Annabeth spun on her heel. Retracing her steps, she paced through the darkened corridors of the brothel, back into Mattie’s private suite of rooms. She drew in a soothing pull of air and then shut the door behind her with a controlled snap.

One more calming breath and Annabeth turned to face her mother.

Mattie had moved from her earlier position by the bookshelves. She now stood next to the fireplace. Her stance was deceptively casual, while her gaze remained sharp and unwavering. She had the attitude of a woman whose high opinion of herself far outweighed her place in the community. That regal bearing, along with her business acumen, had kept her at the top of her chosen profession for thirty years.

Annabeth resisted the urge to sigh. If only Mattie had used her many talents for legitimate purposes, maybe then Annabeth’s shame at having a madam for a mother would not exist. Nor, perhaps, would she crave respectability so desperately, to the point of setting aside all her other hopes and dreams.

A familiar ache tugged at her heart.

Oh, she knew Mattie loved her, without question or reservation. It was that knowledge that turned Annabeth’s shame back on herself.

The Bible taught that she should be sympathetic and love as Christ loved, to be compassionate and think of others before herself. That included her mother.

“Did Hunter get off all right?”

“Yes, fine.” And not at all the point. “How could you have contacted him, when I specifically asked you not to do so?”

“He’s the child’s father.” Mattie lifted her chin in defiance. “He deserved to know of her existence.”

Another bout of shame took hold. She’d been willing to keep a man’s own daughter from him, never mind the reason. “Maria didn’t want him to know about Sarah.”

“She didn’t want you to know about her, either.”

True. Annabeth had found out quite by accident. She’d been home from Miss Lindsey’s less than a week, humiliated and at a loss about what to do with her life after her expulsion from her position at the school. Mattie had insisted she return to Boston and make her fresh start there, going so far as to threaten to cut off financial support if Annabeth didn’t abide by her wishes.

At the time, Annabeth hadn’t seen the point. One city was as good as another to start over, and who needed Mattie’s money, anyway?

She’d been so naive, so headstrong.

Following that initial argument, there’d been many more heated discussions on the subject. A slip of the tongue on Mattie’s part, a bit of investigation on Annabeth’s part, and she’d discovered Sarah’s existence. One look at the child had been enough to give her a new purpose in life. And so she’d set out to provide a stable home for her niece.

Unfortunately, Mattie had followed through with her threat and had pulled all financial support. Annabeth had been forced to take a job teaching at Charity House. Neither of them had expected Annabeth to fall in love with her new life.

But now, with Hunter’s appearance, all her hard work of the past year stood on the precipice of collapsing.

Fear swept through her. “You should not have interfered,” she said again, more forceful than before.

“I stand by my decision.”

“He might take her away with him.”

Mattie dismissed the comment with a sniff. “It would be within his rights.”

Yes. It would. Hunter was Sarah’s father; Annabeth merely her aunt. Her half aunt, as Mattie constantly reminded her.

Giving into despair, Annabeth pressed her back against the shut door, slid to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

“I can’t lose her.” She tangled her fingers in her skirts. “I just can’t.”

“I understand, far better than you realize. But listen to me, Annabeth.” Mattie tried to smile, but her blue eyes, the same color and shape as Annabeth’s, had turned earnest, anxious, a little desperate. “I did not send you to Boston for an education alone. I sent you there to provide you with a better life than the one I could offer you here in Denver. No one knows me there, who I am, what I am. It was supposed to be your chance for a clean break.”

Sighing, Annabeth lowered her forehead to her knees. “I know all that. But things didn’t turn out so well, did they?”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still go back and—”

“Mother, please.”

In a move completely out of character, Mattie joined her on floor. “You’re my daughter, Annabeth.” She squeezed her arm. “You know I love you.”

Annabeth swiveled her head to look at her bossy, annoying, pigheaded mother and a roll of affection spun in her stomach. Why did their relationship have to be so complicated? “I know you do. I...love you, too.”

The words were far easier to say than she’d expected. Regardless of what Mattie did for a living, she was Annabeth’s mother. Flawed and the source of much embarrassment, she’d done her best. What more could a daughter ask from a mother?

“I sent for Hunter for your protection. You’ll ruin your life over that child if you don’t have a care.”

Annabeth knew that, too. “I’m twenty-three years old.” Long past the first blush of youth. “I’m quite capable of knowing what’s best for me. And contrary to what you think, I’m happy.”

“You’re wasting your education.”

“How can you, of all people, say such a thing? I’m helping break the cycle of sin in those children’s lives.”

“I—”

“No, hear me out. I’m providing a solid, Christian education for boys and girls in desperate need of love and unconditional acceptance. It’s really no different than if I’d stayed on at Miss Lindsey’s and continued teaching there.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Annabeth.” Mattie spoke in her most patronizing voice, the one she reserved for rebellious employees. “You’re at Charity House because of Sarah.”

It might have started that way, but Annabeth had changed. Her desires and goals had changed, too. Where once, everything had been about her, she now acted for the benefit of others.

A blessing she couldn’t have imagined a year ago.

“If Hunter takes his child away with him,” Mattie continued, “you could return to Boston and marry a good man.”

“So that’s what this is all about? That’s why you contacted Hunter? You’re counting on him to take Sarah away, thereby giving me no reason to stay on at Charity House?”

“It’s the best solution for all parties.”

How could her mother look so casual, so unconcerned, when her interference was tearing apart the life Annabeth had made for herself?

“What if I never go back to Boston?”

“Now, Annabeth, let’s not be too hasty. You could still—”

“What if, Mother, I don’t leave Charity House after Sarah is gone?” Her voice hitched as she spoke, the reality of all she was about to lose settling over her like a millstone tied to her neck. “What if I choose to stay and teach at the school indefinitely?”

Mattie’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Oh, but she would. Not to spite her mother, but to fulfill her calling, a calling she hadn’t realized existed a year ago. Better still, she’d achieved a level of respectability she’d thought lost to her for good.

“This discussion is over.” Annabeth jumped to her feet.

Mattie followed suit, a little slower, but with surprising agility for a woman her age.

“Move aside, Mother.” Annabeth looked pointedly at the door behind Mattie’s head. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Now, Annabeth, don’t do anything rash. I know Hunter better than you do. Don’t make the mistake in thinking he won’t fight for what belongs to him. And like it or not—” Mattie leaned forward “—Sarah belongs to him.”

“Is that supposed to frighten me?”

“I’m simply warning you to be careful. If the man wants to claim his daughter, there’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Perhaps. But he hadn’t taken Sarah away yet. There was still time for Annabeth to prepare.

One thing was certain. Hunter Mitchell knew nothing about raising a nine-year-old daughter on his own. All Annabeth had to do was make him realize that before it was too late.

It was all very simple, really. If Hunter wanted to be reasonable, she would be reasonable. But if he wanted a fight, well then, she would give him the fight of his life.