It was the best Sunday Brand had known since his mother died.
Sundays with May’s family became a regular occurrence, as did Saturday afternoon outings. He and May spent time with her family. Sometimes they walked along the edge of town on their own.
He hadn’t seen Pa and Cyrus since Ma’s death, and let his guard down, thinking now Ma was gone they had no use for him.
Then he saw their names in a newspaper story. They’d robbed a bank, shot an innocent woman in the ensuing gunfight. A half-page poster accompanied the story. Duggan Gang Wanted. $500 Reward. Dead or Alive.
The ink had smudged, so it was impossible to see their likeness clearly, and no one looked at Brand with suspicion.
But he decided to tell May the truth. He planned the moment carefully. Saturday afternoon they walked to a secluded spot just out of town, where he could hope for privacy.
“That’s my pa and brother,” he said, knowing no other way to say it.
“Who?”
“The Duggan gang.”
She’d laughed. “Don’t be silly.”
He laughed, too, though out of nervousness, not mirth. “I’ve never been part of the gang.”
“Of course you haven’t.” She’d given him a playful push.
“How do you feel about being associated with a Duggan?” He waited, unable to pull in a satisfying breath. Then, overcome with a need to make her see it could be okay, he poured out a gush of words. “Ma and me always ran from them, but they’ve forgotten about me since my ma died. They’d never harm you. I wouldn’t let them.” He had no idea how he planned to protect her. In hindsight he knew he had deluded himself into believing they wouldn’t come after him.
She’d stared at him, her eyes wide as she accepted the truth. “A Duggan. An outlaw gang.”
“Not me. I’ve never robbed a soul.” Surely she couldn’t believe otherwise.
She backed away.
When he followed, she held up her hands. Her face twisted. “How dare you? What will happen if people associate my name with yours? A Duggan.” She spat the word out as if it burned her tongue.
She flung about and returned to the road.
He went after her. “May, wait.” He had to make her understand.
She kept walking. “Go away. I never want to see you again.”
He ground to a halt. Again his life had been shattered by the Duggan name. It was a curse.
He’d returned to his job, but three days later knew he had to move on. As he saddled up, a bunch of rowdies rode into town. He’d glanced up in time to see Pa and Cyrus leading a half dozen hard-looking men.
They had come. They would always come. They would find him. Even in Canada. Brand had no doubt of it. And if he had a lick of sense he would leave now. Before they showed up. Before they put Sybil in danger. Before he had to face the same cold dismissal he’d seen in May’s face.
Dawg lifted his head and growled.
Brand calmed him with a touch.
Hard voices murmured through the aspen. Hoofbeats thudded. Two horses, if he didn’t miss his guess. Had the reward money brought someone to his camp? He reached for his pistol.
The sounds grew closer. He got a glimpse of two horses and riders through the leaves.
His fingers tensed on his gun. Dead or alive meant bounty hunters would just as soon shoot him as tie him up. Less trouble that way.
The trail turned. So did the riders. Not until he could no longer hear them did his grip on the gun relax.
His heartbeat slowed to normal.
How long could he stay without putting himself in danger? Worse, putting Sybil and the others in danger from the Duggan gang?
But he’d told Eddie he would break the horses, and he meant to keep his word, though it wasn’t horses, Eddie or his honor that made him ignore his common sense.
It was the hope of seeing a golden-haired girl again that made him ignore all the reasons for leaving that normally proved enough to spur him on his way.
Dare he allow himself to hope Pa and Cyrus had forgotten about him?
He laughed at such high hopes.
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