Chapter Twenty-Three

The ride to the ranch had been long, silent and awkward with Rebecca riding in a cart with her mama and Horace, while Tillie rode in a second cart with Johnathon. After asking several times and ensuring himself that Rebecca would be fine without his presence, Horace left the ranch, no doubt eager to share this latest news with his wife and friends.

Tillie rushed off to the kitchen once the reunited family reached the sitting room, claiming it was past time for her to start some supper—Rebecca knew her real motive was simply to give them privacy... truly she wished the other woman would have stayed. She could have used her friends presence.

Isabelle was sitting in the armchair picking at her worm and tattered skirt, Johnathon was standing and looking practically hostile as he leaned against the dark gilded mantle. Rebecca adjusted herself on the sofa, laying her hand over her swollen stomach and feeling her babe move inside her as if it too sensed the tension.

"You said we were gonna have a talk," Johnathon grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "So talk."

"Johnathon, stop being so rude to your sister."

"I haven't seen that woman in over ten years," Johnathon growled. "She's not my damn sister anymore."

Rebecca felt the sting deep in her chest. She would have gotten teary eyed if she did things like cry any longer—she had stopped crying long ago. It was clear that Isabelle was preparing to scold Johnathon so Rebecca cleared her throat, drawing her mothers attention to her.

"I have a lot I must tell you, mama. But first, please, how have you been? Has life been easier for you?"

Johnathon shoved himself off the mantle with a snort. "Would that ease your conscious? She lost her daughter and then one of her sons. Do you think it's been easy?"

Rebecca wanted to get angry and probably would have if she wasn't so tired. She pinched her nose between her fingers and took several breaths before meeting her brother's angry glare. "I was referring to the money, Johnathon. I didn't just leave home if you remember. I sacrificed a lot to make your lives easier."

"Oh yeah." He opened his arms and held out his hands, indicating the wealth around them. "One hell of a sacrifice. Where is that good for nothing husband of yours?" Johnathon cracked his knuckles. "I'd like to have a few words with him."

Rebecca frowned. Johnathon was angry at Martin? Why? She hadn't told either of them anything about her kidnapping, her husband's betrayals or the divorce. Why would Johnathon be angry with him?

"Johnathon, please don't..." Isabelle whispered, rubbing at the tired circles around her eyes. "I wanted your sister to have a better life..."

"And what about you, dammit?" Johnathon demanded. "Here she's sat with all this finery and more wealth than twenty people could spend in a lifetime and you've been working yourself into the grave with no help from the daughter who claimed to love you!"

Rebecca held up her hands. "What do you mean, no help? Martin paid three-thousand dollars for my hand in marriage. Mama shouldn't have had to work at all..."

Another snort came from Johnathon as Isabelle sent him a sharp look. "Like I said, where is your husband? I'd like to talk to him."

Rebecca felt dread settle in her gut. Surely Martin hadn't.... she let out a snort of her own. Of course the bastard had.

She fixed her mama with a gaze that made it clear she expected an answer. "He didn't pay, did he?"

Isabelle chewed at her lip a moment, making it clear where Rebecca had gotten that particular habit. "He paid...."

"Yeah three hundred dollars. When I asked where the rest of the money was, he claimed we were just ignorant slum rats who misunderstood the deal he'd made for your hand."

Rebecca shoved herself to her feet and began to pace the sitting room. Her entire life collapsed as her angry feet ate up the ground. Back and forth. Back and forth.

The one thing that had given her any solace the last ten years of her life had been knowing that she had saved her mother and her brothers from a life of poverty in the slums—but she hadn't. She had turned her back on her family, become Martin's goddamn broodmare, sacrificed every bit of her own self-worth and happiness, and for what?

"You...You didn't know?" For the first time there was something other than hostility in Johnathon's voice.

"Of course I didn't," Rebecca exclaimed, whirling around to face him as she threw her hands in the air. "I haven't had the life you think I've had and the only thing that has made any of it bearable was knowing my family was taken care of..." Rebecca suddenly felt exhausted. Too exhausted to stand. She fell back onto the sofa. "I guess Martin got the last laugh after all."

Isabelle, reached out and took her daughter's hand. Rebecca gazed down at that work hardened, calloused and heavily lined hand resting against the soft, pale skin of her own. "Darling, where is Martin?"

She met her mama's gaze, though she wasn't sure how with the amount of shame she felt eating her gut. "He's gone, mama."

Isabelle's eyes widened a fraction. "Did he die?"

Rebecca laid her left hand on top of her mama's. "No, he's not dead."

Glancing down, Isabelle's eyes widened. "Your hand...."

Rebecca winced and pulled her hand away. She'd forgotten about her mangled appearance—it was clear that it was the first her mother was noticing.

Johnathon noticed too. He strode forward, dropped to his knee and took her hand roughly. His brows knitted together as his eyes narrowed. "Did he do this to you? I'll kill that son of a bitch...."

Rebecca pulled her hand from him and shook her head as memories flooded back. The fear, the blood, the pain....Brantley's tormented face as he'd been forced to watch...

"Not directly."

"What do you mean, 'not directly'?" Johnathon demanded. "I think it's time to get to telling us whatever you need to be telling us."

Rebecca nodded. "For nearly a decade, I was Martin's faithful wife. Our marriage was not one of love or affection but I was fond of him—mostly because of what he'd done for my family. Anytime I mentioned you, he made me feel ashamed and ungrateful, as if I was spitting in the face of all he'd done for me. I never received any letters from you—Martin must have intercepted them. I was a constant disappointment to my husband. He married me simply to produce children, however, for that entire time I seemed unable to give him what he wanted. He ridiculed me, talked down to me and made sure everyone knew what a worthless wife he had gotten himself...."

Johnathon's gaze dropped to her pregnant belly. "But....ain't that a youngin?"

Sucking in a deep breath to combat the pain, Rebecca nodded. "I was kidnapped one night after my drive, Felix, was shot dead in cold blood. I was taken by a horrible group of men led by the most evil, vile man I'd ever met...They took me to a small shack of a cabin and left me there bound and blindfolded.

"There was a man, one who hadn't been involved in the kidnapping, he was recovering from an injury and they left him in charge of making sure I didn't escape while they left to give Martin their demands for my release."

"Who was the man, sweetheart?" Isabelle questioned gently. "Is he the one who did that to your hand?"

Rebecca smiled, though it was a bittersweet smile. Brantley's green eyes, his gentle touch, his laughter floated through her memory. "No...No, Brantley would never hurt me. I fell in love with him in that shack, mama. He was so different from what i'd known for so long. He was real. He was genuine. He wanted to know me—he was interested in me."

Her mother's knowing gaze landed on her belly. "And that babe is his?"

Rebecca felt no shame. "Yes." She held her head high. "Yes, this babe is Brantley's. We were going to run away together.. but the gang returned. Martin had not paid them. He wanted to pay less then they were asking. He didn't care if I lived or died—that's not true, he was hoping I would die. He was hoping to be rid of his useless wife. But Hoff, the leader of the gang, wasn't going to give up that easily."

Rebecca swallowed hard. Damn, why didn't the pain ever seem to fade? "Brantley tried to protect me but they were like a pack of rabid wolves. After they beat Brantley to a bloody pulp, they held him and made him watch as Hoff sawed my finger from my hand. I lost consciousness and when I woke, I was alone with Brantley once again, though this time there were armed guards on the cliff and Brantley held no weapons—he was a prisoner too."

Rebecca shifted upon the sofa. "When the gang returned, Martin had paid. Hoff forced Brantley to give me back to my dear husband who had the nerve to still attempt to talk down the price due to the damage they'd done to my hand. Never have I felt such pain as I felt riding away from Brantley... But I had found strength during my time with him. He had made me see something inside myself that I hadn't realized was there. I was no longer content being Martin's wife. With the help of several friends, and the babe I later realized was growing inside me, I convinced Martin to grant me the divorce I wanted leaving me the wealthiest woman and largest female property holder in the territory...If only those things bought happiness."

Johnathon was quiet. Isabelle was silent. The clock ticked on the mantle. Finally Johnathon cleared his throat. "And where is the father now? Where is Brantley?"

There they were... Tears....After all these months, Rebecca hadn't thought she had any left. She gulped in a large breath of air and clenched her fists. "Dead... He died because of me."

A/N: Shall we check on our long lost outlaw? He's been gone awhile... I'm curious to see how he's doing....