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Despite his brave talk, he knew that would never be enough. He couldn’t believe she didn’t care about him. She’d said he deserved love. She’d kissed him—a real, warm and giving kiss. It hadn’t been begrudging in the least.
“Wahoo!” His shout sent the horse skittering sideways. Brand calmed him and turned him about to face south. Back to the ranch.
Back to Sybil. He meant to find out if that kiss meant she might have some sweet regard for him.
He grinned from ear to ear and barely restrained a happy song. This was the right thing. Somehow he and Sybil would work things out even if it took days, weeks, months. Nothing else mattered.
Lost in his happy thoughts, he didn’t hear or see anything until a man on horseback appeared before him, blocking his path.
His eyes fell to the gleaming pistol the rider held in his hand, pointed directly at him. Brand’s heart stalled and then he reined his horse in and slowly raised his hands in the air. He gave the man a quick once-over. He was thin, rough-shaven, with dirty blond hair and a scowl fit to rot his teeth.
“I’m just a poor cowboy,” he told the stranger. All he had was the wages Eddie had given him. He sure wasn’t prepared to die over a few dollars. “You can have what I’ve got.”
“Ain’t interested in your money.”
The skin on the back of Brand’s neck tingled at the venom in the man’s voice.
“Yer one of them Duggans.”
Brand’s nerves went into full alarm. “The Duggan gang is dead.”
“Yeah. You’d like me to believe that, but I ain’t fooled. I seen them firsthand and know what they look like. Get down.” He waved his gun to indicate Brand should dismount.
He did so, cautiously and slowly. No telling what this man meant to do, but shooting Brand on the spot seemed highly likely.
The gun-toting man swung down at the same time and came round to face him, the pistol aimed steadily at Brand’s chest.
Brand shrugged a little, which was plenty hard to do with his hands raised over his head, but he hoped to convince this man that he was harmless. “Mind telling me what this is all about?” He kept his voice low, his tone calm, just like he did when working with frightened animals. Though he wasn’t sure who the frightened one was in this situation. Was the man as nervous as Brand? Not likely, seeing as he held a gun and Brand held nothing but air.
“You no-good Duggans shot my wife.”
Brand stared. Pa and Cyrus were wicked and ruthless and for that, they’d got their names on a wanted poster. He’d heard of a woman getting shot. No wonder this man was angry.
“She was an innocent bystander. You Duggans didn’t care who got hurt.”
Brand wished the man would stop saying “you Duggans.” Except he was a Duggan. It appeared he’d never be allowed to forget it.
“My Isabelle died right there on the street with no one to hold her hand. Without me having a chance to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry don’t mean a thing. You’re going to pay. Where’s your sidearm?”
“I’m not carrying.” His gun was in his saddlebag. Since the demise of the Duggan gang he hadn’t felt the need to wear it.
“That’s downright stupid.” The man waved his gun around, then steadied it on Brand’s heart. “I should shoot you dead right here and now, just like you did my Isabelle. But that wouldn’t give me no satisfaction.” He indicated Brand should move away from his horse, then rifled through his saddlebags until he found Brand’s gun belt.
The man emptied the gun of all but one bullet, then spun the cylinder. “There. You got a fighting chance. That’s more than Isabelle had.” He jammed the gun into Brand’s waistband.
The man backed away. “Lower your arms.”
Brand did so slowly, reluctantly, knowing what came next. He’d never get a chance to say goodbye to Sybil. Never be able to tell her he loved her. With blinding clarity he understood the other man’s pain. “I’m sorry for how your Isabelle died.”
“Don’t you dare speak her name.”
For a moment, Brand thought the man intended to shoot him.
