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"You should have stayed home."
"Would you rather have never known that you had fathered a child?"
When Hunter looked away, apparently bored by her question, Alanna lost patience with him. "Christian is a beautiful boy. I know you'd be proud of him."
"Christian?" Hunter laughed. "I'd never name a son that."
Hoping that sarcastic boast could be construed as interest, Alanna tried again. "Christian was my brother's name. That's why Melissa chose it, but if you'd rather call him something else, you certainly may."
"I have no need of names, because I have no son."
Hunter was being flippant, and Elliott decided to adopt the same attitude. "Fine," he agreed. "Then you should have no objection to saying so in writing, so the boy can be adopted by another man."
Such a request struck Hunter as absurd. "If I swear the boy is not mine, and Melissa swore to me that he wasn't, won't you have to search for a man who will claim the child?"
"There is no other man," Elliott informed him. "The boy is clearly yours."
"But you want me to say that he isn't?"
"Forgive me if I confused you. All we need for you to say is that you have no wish to raise Christian. Then another man can legally assume that responsibility."
"Not Ian?"
"No, not Ian, although the boy owes his life to him, as it was Ian who delivered the child after Melissa died. It wasn't until later that he realized the baby he had saved wasn't his."
"Then Melissa lied to him, too."
"She was my sister, Hunter. Try and remember that."
Hunter looked Elliott straight in the eye. "She was a lying bitch, and any tears you shed for her were wasted."
Elliott leapt to his feet with his arms outstretched, clearly going for Hunter's throat, but the Indian backed away, drawing him outside where his home and possessions would suffer no damage during an exchange of blows. The small clearing in front of his house formed a perfect arena, but after having had one fight that day, Hunter had little enthusiasm for another bout.
Alanna followed the men outside. She had seen enough of Hunter's fight with Jonah Bramen to fear that Elliott was badly outmatched, but rather than unleash the brutality she had glimpsed earlier, the Indian dodged her cousin's blows without throwing any of his own. He was agile and escaped being hit with apparent ease. She understood Elliott's wish to defend Melissa, and made no move to interfere, but she looked around for a fallen branch or anything else within reach, which she might use as a club should the need arise.
When Elliott realized that Hunter wasn't going to do more than defend himself, he dropped back. "What's the matter? Won't you fight, if you're not being paid?"
"No. Melissa just isn't worth fighting over."
"You bastard!"
Outraged, Elliott changed his strategy and, rather than attempt to punish Hunter with his fists, he rushed him, grabbed him around the waist, and wrestled him to the ground. He managed to reopen the cut above the Indian's eye, but that was the only harm he did him before Hunter grabbed his wrists, threw him to the side, and scrambled to his feet. He glanced toward Alanna, nodded, and again backed away.
Elliott rose just as quickly and would have gone after him again, but this time Alanna rushed forward to stop him. "Look, he's already hurt, and there's no point in continuing this until you're hurt, too. It won't solve anything."
Elliott pried her fingers from his sleeve. "I won't let him talk that way about Melissa. She's dead because of him, and I don't intend to let him forget it."
Again, Alanna moved between the two men. "I doubt he ever will, but what difference will words make to Melissa? She'll never hear them. I thought we came here to provide for Christian, not to avenge Melissa's death. Or were you just telling me what you knew I wanted to hear?"
Elliott continued to glare at Hunter, while he tried to decide how to answer Alanna's question without admitting she had guessed the truth. Finally he found a way. "I did come here because of the boy. Hunter's the one who started this. You ought to be angry with him, not me."
Alanna glanced over her shoulder at Hunter. The whole right side of his face was now awash in blood, and tending his wound was suddenly more important than convincing Elliott to stop trading accusations. "Come over here and sit down," she ordered brusquely. "It won't do any of us any good, if you bleed to death."
Hunter was beginning to feel sick to his stomach and when Elliott relaxed his stance, he ceased to worry about him. He followed Alanna back to the front of his house, and sat down beside the barrel of rainwater where he had washed up earlier. He still had Peter Bright's bloody handkerchief and handed it to her.
"Don't you have anything else?" she asked.
Hunter just shook his head and leaned back against the barrel.
