“This is it,” he said to Josie.
She slid off Maggie and handed him the reins. He tied both horses to a bush blooming with Indian paintbrush, propped his hands on his hips and stared at the slash in the ground. “This is where I killed Brant Scudder.”
“Nate told me about it.”
“I’ve thought about this place every day, but it’s the first time I’ve come back since I got out. It looks the same…feels the same.”
“Some memories are burned into us. We change, but they don’t.”
“That’s a fact.” He looked at the bottom of the gorge. Today a streambed held a trickle of water, but five years ago it had been all sand and rock. Looking west, he pointed down the ravine. “Do you see those boulders?”
“I do.”
“I was standing right here.” He drew an X in the dirt with his toe. “The Scudders were riding straight at us. Nate yelled something and one of them fired. I hit the dirt and fired back. Everything went crazy after that.”
“Nate said the shooting lasted five minutes.”
“I don’t know.” Ty shook his head. “It felt like seconds before the Scudders ran off. Three of them were in a pack and riding fast. Brant was trailing behind and firing his pistol over his shoulder at Nate and me. Nate stopped shooting. He said to let him go, but I had to get in one last shot. I should have listened to Nate.”
Josie said nothing. She just stared at the boulders.
So did Ty. “Brant fell off his horse next to those rocks. His brothers were long gone, so he crawled for cover. He was still alive when I rode up, and do you know what I did?”
“No.”
“I didn’t do a blessed thing. I stood there like a king, all puffed up and justified because the Scudders had stolen from me. Nate came up behind me. He saw the kid was dying and gave him water. He prayed with him, too. I wish I’d done that. Instead I told Brant he could rot for all I cared.”
Josie’s breath caught.
“Yeah, I know.” Ty grimaced with shame. “It was an awful thing to say. Brant was younger than me. He needed comfort—even forgiveness—and I’d have spat on him if Nate hadn’t been there.” Heavy with guilt, he turned to Josie. “You begged me not to go that day. You were worried about the wedding, but there was more to it. I think you were afraid of what I’d do.”
“I was,” she admitted.
“If I’d listened to you, Brant would be alive. He deserved to go to jail, but he didn’t deserve to die. I wanted to think I was justified in killing him, but I wasn’t. We all mess up, just in different ways. I hurt you the same way Brant hurt me. He stole my horses…I stole your future. That’s why we’re here today, Josie. I want you to know that I understand what that day cost.” To be sure she heard his next words, he took her hand. “I’m asking you to forgive me for everything I did wrong.”
He needed her to say something, anything, but she was staring blindly into the gorge. Finally she tightened her fingers around his. Their hands made a fist of sorts, though whether it signaled unity or anger he didn’t know. Nothing stirred. Not a blade of grass. She released his hand slowly, as if she didn’t realize she’d been holding it, then she pressed her palm to her chest and faced him. “Do you know what that day was like for me?”
“I’ve imagined it.”
“The whole time you were gone, I prayed you’d come back alive. I wasn’t even thinking of the wedding. I was thinking of you.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Do know how long you were gone?”
“Too long.” He and Nate had taken Brant’s body to town. They’d talked to the law, then gone to the saloon and each downed a shot of whiskey. Ty had raised a toast to justice. The irony of that moment still stung. So did the memory of arriving at the Bright ranch in the light of a full moon and seeing Josie pacing in the yard. “I know it was late,” he admitted.
“It was after midnight!”
He remembered, too. When he’d ridden into the yard, she’d hoisted her skirts and run to him. He’d slid off Smoke and into her arms.
Josie glared at him. “I was too relieved to be angry. Do you remember what you said?”
“I remember kissing you.”
She blinked, but her eyes stayed hard. “You said you were sorry to scare me, but you’d do it all again.”
“I wouldn’t do it now.”
“Now doesn’t matter.” She looked at him as if he were stupid. “We invited the whole town to watch us get married. My mother baked our cake. It was the last one she ever made because of her eyes. I spent hours making the dress, not because I love to sew but because I loved you. I’d never been happier in my life…then Nate came to the church. Not you…”
“I wanted to go myself, but you know what happened. The sheriff arrested me on my way there.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She stared back at the gorge. “The damage was done, and things got worse with every day that passed.”
“Because of the trial.”
“Yes.” She clipped the word. “People offered condolences instead of congratulations. I felt like a widow without ever being a wife.” Her voice quavered. “And it didn’t stop… For six months people asked me about you…about us. The rude ones asked if I was going to wait for you.”
He’d wondered about that himself. “What did you say?”
“I said no.” She faced him with a bit of a smirk. “That led to some very nice invitations.”
For five years Ty had wondered about something. “Did that jerk Paul Whitman come calling?”
“Paul’s not a jerk.”
“So he did.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But I didn’t love him. I couldn’t, and that’s what hurt the most. I wanted to be your wife, not his! I loved you—” Tears welled in her eyes. “And I can’t seem to love anyone else.”
“Ah, Josie.” He reached for her, but she turned her back, perhaps to hide her face and the threat of tears. He ached to comfort her, but he had nothing more to give. He’d done what he’d come to Rock Creek to do. He’d asked Josie for forgiveness. He wouldn’t beg, but he could hope she’d find the grace to let go of the hurt. It wouldn’t happen today, so he went to the horses. “I’m ready when you are.”
With her chin high, she walked to Maggie. “I’m ready.”
She climbed on the mare, and Ty mounted Smoke. As they turned to the trail, Josie stopped the horse in its tracks. Ty reined in Smoke. “What is it?”
“I want you to know, I heard everything you said.”
“That’s a start.”
“Maybe.” She hesitated. “I want to be done with these feelings, but I’m like a bug in a jar. I can’t get out.”
“It’s like prison.”
“Yes.”
He risked a smile. “There’s a sure cure for feeling trapped, and that’s a hard run on a fast horse. Want to race home?”
A bit of sass flashed in her eyes, and she kicked Maggie into a run.
Ty gave her a