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“That he told the truth before he died. That he wasn’t one of the bombers, and that the reason—the only reason—he’d tried to get to you through that locked door was to warn you.”
“Why else would he?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe Wilcox—”
“Trapper, you’ve got to let it go.”
“Dammit, don’t you think I want to? Don’t you think I want to believe that the man in these pictures, the dad I remember, was corrupted only by fate and fame as he said? But I’m having trouble accepting that.”
“Why?”
“Wilcox wanted you silenced. You and The Major are alone in the house. What does he do? He opens the gun cabinet and takes out that rifle. By your own admission, when you heard the shot, you thought he had fired it. By accident, maybe, but—”
“He couldn’t have fired it. It wasn’t loaded.”
He gave her a sharp look.
She said, “I thought you knew that.”
He shook his head. “How do you know?”
“Glenn Addison told me. The day I was released from the hospital. He and the Texas Rangers were questioning me. One of the details they were withholding from the public was that the rifle was found lying on the floor within The Major’s reach. Until I told him otherwise, Glenn had reasoned The Major had taken it from the cabinet when he heard intruders. Not that it would have done him any good, he said. ‘It wasn’t loaded.’”
She placed her hands on Trapper’s forearm and squeezed. “It wasn’t loaded, Trapper. The Major had no intention of harming me. He was probably replacing the gun in the cabinet when he heard Jenks and Petey Moss. He came to warn me. Accept that.” Lowering her voice, she said, “Accept that he loved you. Then start living your life. Not his.”
He looked down at the picture on the top of the stack inside the box. Trapper was missing a front tooth. He was wearing a grass-stained softball uniform, kneeling beside a trophy that was taller than he. The Major was standing behind him, hands on his shoulders, grinning widely.
Trapper gave a wistful smile and replaced the lid. After scooting the box aside, he turned to her. “I have no choice except to love him. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have met you.”
Her breath caught.
“I had to show up here uninvited, Kerra.”
She tilted her head inquisitively.
“You stopped calling Carson.”
“He was becoming irritated.” Huskily she added, “And I do have my pride.”
He gazed into her eyes for an extended time, then softly asked, “If I make a pass, are you going to hurl me through that plate glass window?”
“Only a reckless man would risk it.”
“Not reck
less. Desperate.”
“Then it’s probably worth taking the gamble.”
“Well, here goes.” He reached out and brushed his thumb back and forth across her beauty mark. “I lied when I said I didn’t need your consolation.” He slid his hand down the side of her throat, moved her collar aside, and buried his face between her neck and collarbone. “I do. I need you. I want you like hell. It’s a sickness. Carson says it’s love. He thinks it’s hysterical.”
“What do you think?”
He raised his head to look at her. “What I know is, if you don’t invite me to stick around, I’ll just have to carry you off again.”
“Stick around for how long, Trapper? An hour? A night, before you dash away again?”
“No, I’d like to stay until I’m cured of what ails me.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “But since the thought of being without you only makes me sicker, it could be indefinite.”
