chapter Ten
“When are you going to tell her?” Xav asked Running Bear, when the chief appeared beside him atop the snow-covered mesa. The days were shorter, the nights darker and colder. Something sinister stirred inside Xav, a pressing warning he could feel sitting heavy between his shoulders. Ash appeared more content than she’d ever been, her time spent almost exclusively with the babies now. But he kept a secret from her, and it troubled him. He’d waited for Running Bear to visit the ranch, but he hadn’t yet been to see his great-grandchildren, a fact that puzzled Xav.
So he’d kept on ice the knowledge that had hit him one day, not about to share his realization, not even with Ash. In spirit, she seemed as though she was in waiting, hanging in some strange still place he’d never seen her inhabit before. She didn’t mention Wolf anymore or her desire to kill him. It was almost as if she’d wiped Wolf and the danger around them out of her mind.
It unsettled Xav. He loved that she wanted to be with her children every minute, but he also worried that a little of her light had gone out, as if she turned a blind eye to the danger.
“I will not tell her,” Running Bear said. “And though you know the truth, you will not tell Ash, either.”
“Or any of the Callahans, I presume.”
“It is not yet time.”
Xav blew out a heavy breath, not feeling good about this. “Not that I’m doubting you, but don’t you think it would be fairer to the Callahans if they knew about their parents?”
“If it was so easy to set the truth free, it would be done every day. We walk in the shadows when there is pain for other people by knowing the truth.”
“I guess I can appreciate that.” Still, Xav was troubled. “I’ll play it your way.”
“I know.” Running Bear looked across the canyons toward Loco Diablo. “My son Wolf is in a killing rage.”
A shaft of hatred sliced through Xav. “What do you want me to do about it? I assume you’ve shown up here for a reason.”
“I want you to go to Wolf.”
“Why?” Nothing could have shocked Xav more. “Trust me, you don’t want me to do that. I already tried to kill him once, and I’m pissed that I failed. Frankly, my second shot will be everything I’ve got and then some.”
Running Bear shook his head. “That is not your destiny.”
“I’m not really a big believer in destiny. In my family, we do action. Bending people to our will, negotiating, stuff like that. I’m pretty sure my old man wasn’t above greasing a palm or two to make his business successful internationally, and I’m sure I own those genes, too.”
“Tell my son,” Running Bear said, “that he is walking the wrong path. His destiny will soon be upon him if he does what he is planning.”
Running Bear whistled and a Diablo galloped at full stride to the mesa from seemingly thin air. He watched with astonishment as Running Bear leaped on the horse, his speed so swift it seemed that the cold air heated as they sped by. “Damn it,” Xav muttered, mounting his horse, glancing around. Running Bear was nowhere to be seen. Nothing but stringy clouds hung in the gray sky, a promise of more snow on the way. He didn’t even hear the thunder of hooves.
He assumed Running Bear meant the message needed to be delivered immediately. There was no need to tell Ash he was going; she’d just worry—or worse, insist on coming with him. He checked his gun and turned toward Loco Diablo, the surest place to find Ash’s renegade uncle.
* * *
ASH DECIDED THAT if there was ever a time to discover what she needed to know, it was now. The babies were napping, watched over by Burke and Fiona, in the best of hands for the time being. Xav was off riding fence or something, and her brothers were occupied with the thousand chores Rancho Diablo required.
Fiona’s words had given her enough comfort to want to try on the fabled Callahan wedding gown.
She went up the stairs into the attic, turned on the lamp and looked around the big room. It appeared just the same as it had the other day, almost suspended in time. Glancing at the closet, she remembered the spark she’d thought had popped out from between the door and doorjamb, but nothing like that happened now.
Reaching for the doorknob, she slowly turned it. The door wouldn’t open, so she twisted the knob again. No one had mentioned a stubborn doorknob, and Ash was a bit disappointed. She tugged at the door, but though there was no lock, it stayed tightly closed.
There was no hope for it but to ask Fiona, which she hadn’t wanted to do—she hadn’t wanted a soul to know what she was up to. “Open, please,” she murmured. “I really want to see what you look like, magic wedding dress.”
Nothing. She’d imagined the sparks of light.
“I know Xav is the man for me, I don’t need a gown to tell me that. I’ve always known it,” she murmured, and the door swung open with a deep creak. She stared into the recesses of the closet, looked for a light to turn on.
The closet came alive in a burst of white, like flash-bang grenades she’d seen in the military, so white she covered her face with a gasp. But there was no afterburn, no pain, so she cautiously opened her eyes.
A garment bag hung in the closet, shimmering with incandescence. A gentle melody filled the attic. It called to her, beckoning her to draw the zipper down and see her destiny at long last.
The zipper slid down without resistance, the lovely garment bag melting away.
And there, before her stunned gaze, was a gown of yellow and orange, almost on fire with heat and radiance.
“Wow,” Ash whispered, staring at the long train, the long sleeves, flames raging along the bodice and hem. She reached out to touch it, drawing her hand back with a gasp. The gown was truly on fire, contained in the closet—and then, it filtered to the floor in a poof of dust and smoke.
“Oh, no!” She fell to her knees, reaching out to the blackened ashes disappearing even as she tried to grab them. Her first urgent thought was that Fiona would know what to do if she could get the ashes to her fast enough. She knew how much Fiona loved this gown, she’d treasured it for years—what was she going to tell her aunt?
Ash scrabbled at the pile but it was gone, leaving not a speck behind. She wanted to cry, but that wouldn’t do a bit of good—the magic wedding dress was magic no more.