lead Neill to the right woman. And here you are.â
The right woman? Tears welled in Claraâs eyes. She carried Comanche blood and was the mother of another manâs babeâyet this beautiful, kind-hearted lady took one look at her and not only accepted her but called her an answer to prayer. Her knees did buckle then.
âWhoa.â Crockett grabbed hold of her elbow and steadied her.
âIâm fine,â Clara insisted, waving away his help once she had her feet back under her. âIâm just a little worn out from the trip.â
âOf course you are.â Meri held out her hands. âCould I take the baby for you? Mine have gotten so big, it would be such a joy to hold an infant again.â
Clara hesitated only a moment, then nodded. âHis name is Harrison,â she said as she handed her son into Meriâs arms.
âHeâs beautiful,â the other woman enthused. âSuch a dear. And so tiny. Why, he canât be more than a couple weeks old.â
âTwo days.â
âTwo days?â Meri gasped. âGood heavens! You came straight from childbed, didnât you? What was that boy thinking?â
Clara stiffened. âThat man was saving my son. Leaving was necessary.â Why did they all speak of Neill as if he were still a child?
Meri looked taken aback, and then a slow smile spread across her face. âYes. You are definitely the right woman.â
âCrock!â Travisâs shout drew all eyes to the barn, where he emerged leading two horses. âMount up.â
Neillâs brother placed a hand on her shoulder. âWeâll bring your man back to you safe and sound, Clara. Donât worry.â
She glared at his teasing grin. âSee that you do.â
His chuckle warmed her, but the sound quickly dissipated as he bounded down the steps and across the yard to the waiting horses.
The men disappeared in a flurry of dust as they kicked their horses into a run. Meri led the way into the house, so busy cooing to Harrison that she didnât notice Claraâs hesitation to follow.
She peered into the trees as if she could actually see Neill if she just tried hard enough. âBring him back to me,â she whispered, the prayer lifting from the depths of her heart. âI need him.â
Mackâs fingers tightened their grip on Neillâs throat. Consciousness ebbed.
Then a vision of Clara swam through his mind. Clara alone. Abandoned. Her son lost to her. No! Neill forced the darkness back, a new ferocity thrumming in his veins.
Mack shifted position to press more weight against Neillâs throat, and Neill seized the opening. With a surge of strength that could only be God-given, he raised both knees and jammed his boots into Mackâs gut. He twisted and shoved with all his might, launching Mack sideways. Neill gulped blessedly sweet air.
Not taking any time to savor that sweetness, Neill immediately threw himself on top of Mack and slammed his fist into the manâs body and face again and again until his adversary finally stopped swinging back.
âClara is to be my wife,â Neill shouted down at the man moaning beneath him. âHarrison will carry my name. Be my son. You no longer have any claim to him. Do you understand?â
Mack stilled. Eyes that had been rolling back in his head suddenly sharpened their focus. âShe named the boy Harrison?â His grunted words were barely decipherable, but Neill made them out.
âYes.â Odd that the boyâs name would have such an effect on him.
Mack lifted his head an inch off the ground, then collapsed back down. âMy grandmotherâs . . . maiden name.â
Neillâs brows rose. What were the chances? True, Harrison was a rather common surname, but for it to belong to both Claraâs mother and Mackâs grandmother smacked of something stronger than coincidence. Providence, perhaps? After all, he doubted
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