When the last of the cattle had disappeared over a rise, Lacey and the men rode up to the crumpled figures lying in the dust.
They came upon Ruby first. They swung out of their saddles and hurried to kneel beside her. Although Ruby's body was broken and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her gaze fastened on Lacey, hatred for her shining hot in her eyes.
With her dying breath, she whispered, "I almost got you once, you little bitch. I was the one who cut your guide rope." Her mad stare became fixed then, and Trey moved his hand over her lids, closing them. Ruby Dalton had passed out of this life.
He looked at Lacey, shaking his head. "It never entered my mind that she cut the rope."
He helped Lacey to stand and they walked over to where Bull lay, more dead than alive. Like Ruby, his body was badly broken, his legs twisted unnaturally beneath him. As Trey squatted down beside him, pure hatred stared up at him.
"You're dying, Father," Trey said with difficulty, trying to find some pity in his heart for this man who had never in his life given him a kind word. "Before you go, I'd like to know why all these years you've hated your only son, your only child."
Bull continued to glare his hatred at Trey, then finally managed to gasp out, "You damn fool . . . you're not my son."
"I'm not?" Trey sat back on his heels, stunned. "If not you, who then?"
Bull closed his eyes, and Trey grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Don't you dare die until you tell me who my father is!" he shouted.
Bull opened eyes that were glazed with pain. "The man who has always hung in the background of your life . . . and your mother's. Your grandfather paid me to marry her, because . . . the man who had put a brat in her belly was nowhere around."
Bull closed his eyes again. It looked as though he had drawn his last breath until Trey's fingers bit into his shoulder and he demanded sharply, "Who was that man, you old bastard? Who is my father?"
Bull opened his eyes, and with his last, shuddering breath gasped out, "You come from . . . the seed Matt Carlton put in your . . . whorin' mother's belly."
While everyone stared down at the dead man in disbelief and shock, Trey stood up, his face cold and stony. When he strode toward his mount, Lacey ran after him. "Where are you going, Trey?"
"Where do you think I'm going?" Trey ground out, swinging into the saddle. "I'm going to shoot the man who is the cause of the hell my mother and I lived in all those years."
"Trey!" Lacey grabbed hold of his knee. "Matt loves you. I'm sure there was a good reason he didn't marry your mother."
"Don't follow me, Lacey," was Trey's only response as he put spurs to his mount.
Matt was sitting on his porch, ready to pull off his boots, when Trey pulled his horse to a rearing halt in his yard. "What's wrong, son?" he called anxiously, springing to his feet as Trey strode toward him, his face working with all the emotions churning inside him.
Trey hopped up onto the porch and gave Matt a rough push that sent him back into the chair. "Even though you have the right, don't ever call me son again," he grated out.
Matt's face went chalk white. "So," he said slowly, looking down at the floor, "he finally told you."
"Yes, he told me. Now you have five minutes to tell me why you ran out on my mother before I put a bullet in your heart."
"I don't know if I can tell it all in five minutes," Matt said gravely, "but I'll try."
He wasted a few seconds of his allotted time thinking back over the years. He looked up at Trey then and, with suffering in his eyes, began to speak.
"I was several years older than Martha and never paid much attention to my pretty little neighbor until I noticed all the young men who were suddenly calling on her. I rode over to her father's plantation one day and discovered what was bringing the young bucks to her veranda.
"Your mother was the loveliest woman I'd ever seen. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also sweet and innocent. I fell madly in love with her that day, and I couldn't believe my good luck when she returned my love. With our parents good wishes, we began making wedding plans.
"There was an Indian uprising around that time, and it became pretty bad; a lot of men were killed. A month before our wedding date, all able-bodied men were ordered to go help stop the killing, burning, and looting.
"On the evening I rode over to tell Martha good-bye, we walked along the river, our spirits low. We turned to each other for comfort, and before we knew it our kisses and caresses got out of hand. You were conceived that night.
"I had no idea that Martha was in a family way the day I rode away to fight the Indians. When I arrived back home six months later, I was desolated to learn that my love had married Bull Saunders three months before.
"Why him of all men? I asked myself. He was quite a bit older than Martha, and it was well known that he was a brutal man who treated all women shamefully.
"A short time later I saw Martha and Bull on the street. She was big with child and I knew then why she had wed Saunders. Not knowing when or if I would return from fighting, she had married him out of desperation. I took a step toward her and that bastard grabbed a fistful of her hair and sneered, 'Hurry along, whore- I got a itch that needs scratchin'.
"I started to lunge at the bastard, to fasten my fingers around his thick neck and squeeze the life out of him. But I stopped at the pleading look in your mother's eyes."
Matt drew a deep breath before continuing. "You were two months old the first time I saw you. Martha sent me a note by a young darkie, asking me to meet her at our favorite place down by the river.
"She was so thin and haggard-looking that I hardly recognized her. But love for me still shone out of her beautiful eyes as she unwrapped you and held you out to me. 'Meet your son Trey,' she said softly.
"As I held you, my heart filled with love and despair, she told me how ashamed her parents had been about the coming baby, how they had paid Bull to marry her.
" 'I had to let you see your son, Matt,' she said in her lovely, quiet voice, 'for next week, Bull is moving us west.'
"When we parted a short time later, I knew that I would follow her and my son. I could at least watch my son grow up, and maybe scare Bull into treating your mother right."
Matt sighed. "Of course I was wrong. Sometimes I wondered if my following her only worsened her life. She forbade me to intervene in her marriage. She was afraid Bull would only treat you more harshly.
"So, Trey, I don't much care if you do shoot me. I'm worn out with the hell I've lived most of my life."
His eyes wet, Trey sat down in the chair next to Matt. Only sorrow for the man he loved remained inside him. He grinned at the grey-haired man and said, "Before nightfall arrives, everyone in the area will know that you're my father. How does that set with you?"
Matt gave him a startled look and smiled back. "That sets right well with me, son. I'd be proud to shout it to the whole world."
They spotted a cloud of dust rolling toward the house, and Trey shook his head. "Here comes your daughter-in-law. I told her not to follow me, but she doesn't pay a speck of attention to what I have to say."
Matt smiled to himself at the pride in Trey's voice. "Have you gotten around to telling her that you love her yet?"
"Well, no. Not in so many words, but I'm sure she knows it."
"How would she know if you don't tell her?"
"My body tells her almost every night," Trey answered, his tone saying he was convinced of the truth of his words.
"Maybe she thinks your body is only looking for release, and that love doesn't enter into it. I advise you to tell her how you feel. All women, especially wives, want to be told that they are loved."
"You think so?" Trey looked surprised.
"I know so, you idiot. You tell her that as soon as possible."
When Lacey pulled the sorrell in and dismounted, she saw at a glance that all was well with father and son. Matt rose and folded her into his arms. "I'm happy to see you, daughter. Will you and my son have some coffee and Mexican pastry with me?"
The whole ranch house seemed to take on a new character after Bull and Ruby were laid to rest in the small cemetery, well away from where Trey's mother was buried. Ruby's parents had showed up for her burial, but there was no one for Bull.
For two days, Lacey had Trey moving furniture about, arranging the pieces into a more homey look. Trey was careful not to track mud into the house, but if he sometimes forgot, Lacey didn't scold him. A house was meant to be lived in, not just looked at, she believed.
Besides, she meant to fill the big house with the sound of children's happy voices and pattering feet. She was almost sure she was expecting again. Two mornings in a row she had lost her breakfast.
Only one thing marred Lacey's happiness. If only Trey would say he loved her, she wouldn't ask for anything more. He treated her like a queen, exhausted her every night with his lovemaking, and never went to town except on business, yet those desired words never came.
A week later, when Trey said that he loved her, the words came so naturally that they were both surprised.
It was twilight and they were sitting on the porch after supper. Matt had taken the meal with them and had just ridden away. When he and his horse had disappeared from sight, Lacey said dreamily, "What a grand love he had for your mother."
"Yes," Trey agreed, "but no grander than the love I have for you."
Tears sprang to Lacey's eyes. Finally he had said the word she had waited for so long. She stood up and, taking him by the hand, tugged him out of the chair.
"Let's go to bed," she said huskily.
end.