Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,72

match to his…and his father’s.

“Who is his mother?” For once Preston’s suave manner deserted him. His eyes locked on Cabe’s as he settled him to his chest and rubbed his hand over the dark curly head.

“I am. Give him to me before I have you arrested.”

“Better think that over,” he said without looking at her. “It’s you who will be arrested. I’m simply a wronged father. Kidnapping is a serious offense. Even your brother won’t be able to let that pass.”

Frightened, Cabe struggled to wriggle out of Preston’s grip.

She couldn’t fly at her enemy like she wanted to, biting and scratching. She had another tiny life to protect as well as Cabe’s.

“You won’t be able to prove that. He looks as much like me and Cleve as he does you.”

“Holden?” He looked at her for the first time. “Adel? No…Arden, wasn’t it? Yes…sweet little Arden Holden. She was a treat. Whatever happened to her?”

“You killed her.”

“Tsk now, she was alive and well when we parted company.” Not a shadow of sorrow spoiled his angelic expression. “That does leave me free to take my son home to his proud grandpappy, doesn’t it?” Cabe began to cry.

Leanna wanted to scream for help, but what might Preston do if she did? Silence her in a way that would hurt her unborn baby?

“Give him to me. The last thing you want is a child.”

“As true as that may be, my father will be—”

Suddenly Preston went limp. He sagged to the floor, gasping. Leanna snatched Cabe before he hit the rug.

Aggie stood over the groaning devil with a frying pan gripped in both fists.

“Give him another wallop, then get the others out the back way,” Leanna instructed.

She ran, hugging Cabe to her. After only a block, her lungs burned and her legs ached. Keeping hold of him was possible only because her arms were cramped in place. Even though she thought one more step might break her back, she pushed on, worrying all the while her flight might be hurting her precious unborn baby.

Rain slammed the front porch the second she opened the door and launched herself into Cleve’s arms.

Chapter Sixteen

“Come here, son.” Cleve lifted Cabe from her arms but she couldn’t straighten her elbows. “Go sit under the table, son. Help Stretch be brave while Mama catches her breath.”

Cabe pumped his short legs toward the kitchen. He crawled under the table and sat on the dog’s back.

“What’s wrong?” He led her to the couch and eased her down beside him, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Breathe slow…easy now.”

“Preston knows,” she gasped.

His hand stilled on her back. “About Cabe?”

She nodded, nearly too breathless to speak. “His eye.”

“It had to happen someday.” He resumed stroking her back. “I don’t want you to worry.”

She would, there was no help for it, but with Cleve close by she did feel safer.

He stood up from the couch and paced to the fireplace. He plucked the Winchester from the wall, checked to see that it was loaded, then placed it back on its hanger.

“Lightning hit the saloon, we had to go,” she told him when he resumed his place beside her. “Bowie was with us then, but later, somehow Cabe got away from Aggie and there was Preston holding him and saying how pleased Willem would be when he brought the boy home.”

“You weren’t hurt?”

She shook her head. “Preston was. Aggie walloped him in the face with a frying pan.”

“Killed him, I hope.”

“I reckon she wanted to, but she couldn’t, not without ending up in jail herself.” Leanna took a shuddering breath. “I’ll never believe that man wants to be anyone’s daddy.”

“He hopes to redeem himself in his father’s eyes through Cabe, no doubt.”

“He’s more a fool than we thought if he believes that will happen. Willem will think even less of him for having a child the way he did.”

“Preston’s a twisted man. Who knows what his father is?” Cleve hugged her and whispered in her ear, “He won’t get our boy and neither will Willem. I promise you that. Lay down.” He pressed her onto the cushions and lifted her legs, smoothing them to the couch. “Rest awhile. I’ll see to Boodle’s noon meal.”

With a kiss to her forehead, he stood, then walked to the window. He tapped on the glass, peering out at the heavy rain. After a moment, he returned to the hearth and checked the rifle one more time.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to give Boodle something to eat.” He