Page 137 of The Formation of Us
Radford tossed another forkful of straw into the wheelbarrow. “I’ve been wanting to apologize. Just haven’t found the right time.”
“How could you, when my house is overrun with women who won’t stop fussing over me?”
“Could be worse.” Radford smiled, and Duke regretted the harsh words he’d had with his brother.
“I’m sorry I condemned you for protecting Rebecca,” he said. “That’s what a father is supposed to do.”
“A father is supposed to protect and guide his children,” Radford said, continuing to work, “not smother them and make all their decisions for them.” He rested the pitchfork tines in the straw and hung his hand over the top of the handle. “I misjudged Adam. He’s worthy of your praise, and you were right to defend his character. You’ve got a fine young man for a son.”
“Thank you.” Radford’s acknowledgment and acceptance of Adam soothed the wound in Duke’s heart. “I wish you hadn’t needed to shoot Stone,” he said. His words were few, but Radford would understand all the things he wasn’t saying: He was sorry to resurrect the demons that had nearly driven Radford insane after the war, he was sorry to burden Radford’s conscience with another killing.
Radford sighed and leaned against the pine slats. “You know, after Kyle and I got in that fight here, I walked out of the livery wondering if I could ever pull myself together. I felt shaky and half-crazy like I was back in the damned war.”
“You’d gone through hell. No one blamed you for losing control.”
“I was a mess, Duke. I couldn’t even hold that damned gun at William’s funeral. Everything was exploding in my head like I was in the middle of Gettysburg. I couldn’t have protected anyone that day, and I’ve wondered ever since if I’d fall apart when my family needed me.” His shoulders lowered on a hard sigh. “Now I know. Right or wrong, shooting Stone was the only choice. I regret having to do it, but I don’t regret my decision to save my brother.”
Peace flowed into Duke’s chest. Radford had finally escaped the war. Killing men had imprisoned Radford, but saving Duke had freed him.
No, neither of them would have chosen this situation, but circumstances had forced them to cross the line, to commit acts they would never willingly perform. Duke had kidnapped a child who needed him. Radford had killed a man to save his brother. And Faith had lied to protect her family. Right or wrong, good or bad, they’d all done what they’d had to do.
And Duke could live with that.
Chapter 42
It was a cold, snowy Christmas Eve, but Duke sat in the sleigh and inhaled the fresh air, feeling alive and somewhat healthy for the first time since he had been shot. He couldn’t wait to work the mill again. He’d thought he would feel incomplete without his sheriff’s badge, but he knew a wholeness and happiness he’d never before experienced. He knew who he was: a Grayson.
Radford had tried being a soldier. Kyle had once wanted to be a lawyer. Boyd had been a bar owner. Duke spent years as a sheriff. But those occupations had only defined a small part of who they were as men. They were brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands. They would defend their families as fiercely as they would defend their country. They would disagree at times, but they would always stand united when it counted.
They were Graysons. Men who argued and laughed and made mistakes sometimes. Men with families. Men with wives they loved and honored.
“Why so quiet?” Faith asked, brushing her warm lips across his jaw. She smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy, a tender expression in her whiskey-colored eyes.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said, glad she looked happy. They snuggled beneath the lap robe, and she didn’t express any curiosity about their destination until they stopped in the middle of Forest Hill Cemetery.
Adam leapt from the front seat of the sleigh with a youthful agility Duke envied. With painful slowness, he got himself out, but Cuvier assisted Faith and Cora.
“Is your father buried here?” Faith asked, standing beside him with her new hat and scarf, looking so beautiful he wanted to rush her straight home to their big bed that had been agonizingly empty while he’d healed. He would not wait one more night to love her.
“No, your mother is. She’s in Fredonia now.” Duke gestured to the engraved stone that marked Celia Rose’s new resting place. “We can plant roses in the spring.”
Faith stared at the stone and her lips parted. “Is she really . . . did you move her here?”
“Your father saw to it while I was laid up.”
“Oh, Duke . . .” Faith knelt in the snow and smoothed her knit gloves over the stone. He was afraid she would cry, and that her tears would upset Cora, who was still easily frightened. But Faith looked up at him with the most radiant smile he’d ever seen. “Thank you.” She shifted her beautiful joyful eyes to her father. “There’s nothing you could have ever given me to equal this.”
And there was nothing Faith could have given her father that would have equaled her unsolicited forgiveness. With one sentence she had freed Steven Cuvier of a lifetime of guilt.
“Let’s decorate the stone and then get home,” Duke said. “I have some gifts for the three of you.”
“How can you have gifts for us when you haven’t been out of the house?” Faith asked, giving him a suspicious squint. “Have you been sneaking out while I’ve been sleeping?”
“Of course not!”
She laughed and gave his ribs a playful nudge. “I have a surprise for you, too. We have an outing this evening.”
They would go to his mother’s house, where everyone gathered for holidays and celebrations. As always, it would be cramped and noisy, but Duke was looking forward to getting back to all the things he’d taken for granted.
