His Woman, His Child. BEVERLY BARTON
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all going to miss him.”
Now, as he stood with Lowell’s family and friends at the grave site, the October wind whipped through the nearby trees, flapping the partially bare branches and loosening the dying foliage. The colorful autumn leaves flew across the cemetery like birds in flight. Thunder boomed in the distance. A fine mist of rain moistened the canopy under which those close to the deceased had congregated to say their final farewells.
Numbness had encased Hank ever since his brother Caleb had phoned to tell him that Lowell Redman had been murdered—killed in the line of duty as sheriff of Marshall County. Although he hadn’t lived in Crooked Oak since he’d graduated from high school, Hank had remained best friends with Lowell. He’d even been best man at Lowell’s wedding to Susan two years ago.
Susan. Sweet, quiet, gentle Susan. He’d thought she and Lowell a perfect match. Both good people.
She had asked him to sit with her today, but he had declined, using the excuse that the other ladies attending should be the ones seated. He stood across from her, on the opposite side of Lowell’s casket. She sat stiffly, her face pale, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Dear God, the pain she must be suffering!
Every instinct within him wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her. Comfort her. Assure her that she wasn’t alone. To promise that he would take care of her.
But how would she react if he touched her? More importantly, how would he react? Knowing she was pregnant brought all his primeval, protective instincts to the surface.
He’d known Susan Williams Redman all her life. She’d been one of his sister Tallie’s best friends. But back then he’d never thought of her as anything but a quiet, shy, plain little girl who used to stare at him with big blue eyes. Then he’d seen her at Tallie’s wedding several years ago and realized that the plain little girl had grown into a lovely young woman. If she hadn’t been dating Lowell at the time, he would have asked her for a date while he was visiting Crooked Oak.
The next time he’d seen her was at her and Lowell’s wedding—and he had envied his best friend. Not that he’d wanted to get caught in the marriage trap—he certainly wasn’t the marrying kind. And not that he wanted to trade lives with Lowell. He had only wanted happiness for Lowell and his new bride.
The minister ended the graveside service with a prayer. The rain grew heavier and more intense as the wind increased, blowing the moisture inside the canopy enclosure. He watched as his sister Tallie helped Susan to her feet and Caleb’s wife, Sheila, held an umbrella over her as they led her toward the governor’s limousine.
Grateful that Susan wasn’t alone—that his family had rallied around her—Hank stayed at the graveside until the crowd cleared. The attendants from the funeral home waited while he stood over Lowell’s casket, placed his hand on the cold, damp metal and made a silent vow. I promise you that I’ll take care of Susan and the baby.
As he walked away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw his younger brother Caleb.
“Are you all right?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah.”
The two men walked side by side toward Hank’s rental car. The rain soaked them, plastering their hair to their heads.
“I’ll ride with you,” Caleb said. “I think Peyt’s limo is full, with Peyt and Tallie, as well as Donna and Sheila in there with Susan.”
The brothers got into the Taurus and sat silently for several minutes before the cars in front of them began to move. Hank shifted into drive and followed the procession out of the cemetery.
“Never thought the sheriff of a quiet little hick county like ours would wind up getting himself murdered.” Caleb shook his head.
“Yeah, you’re right. There’s not much crime around here, is there? Lowell wasn’t the type who sought out danger or wanted anything more than to keep the peace.”
“Ole Lowell always reminded me of TV’s Andy Taylor without Barney.” Caleb chuckled. “God, he was a good man!”
“The best.” Hank felt a knot of emotion tighten in his chest. He had cared for Lowell Redman the way he cared about Caleb and Jake, as if he’d been another brother. They’d been friends since first grade. Hank had always been the leader, the instigator, the one daring Lowell to take risks with him. And Lowell had been the faithful follower, the accessory to their boyish pranks, the quiet, bashful boy who didn’t have an adventurous bone in his body.
“I hope they find the son of a bitch who shot him,” Caleb said. “Damn dopehead! That Carl Bates has always been a worthless piece of trash.”
“Bates can’t run and hide forever,” Hank said. “Usually guys like him wind up coming home and looking for help. We’ll get him. You can bet on that.”
Within minutes Hank pulled the Taurus up outside Susan’s house, but didn’t kill the motor.
Caleb turned to him. “Aren’t you coming in? Susan will expect you to be there. Half the town will come through those doors before nightfall. I know it would mean a lot to her if Lowell’s best friend was at her side.”
The last thing Susan probably wanted was for him to be at her side all evening, while friends and acquaintances paraded in and out to pay their condolences. She had to be as numb as he over losing Lowell and as stunned and uncertain as he about her pregnancy. But the odd thing was, he really wanted to be there with her. She had looked so fragile, so vulnerable, during the funeral. Small-boned and slender, Susan came just to his shoulder. More than once since he’d seen her last night, he had wanted to lift her into his arms, take her away from the endless horde of people trying to console her and keep her safely under his protection.
Hank killed the motor. “You’re right. I need to be with Susan.”
Her entire body was as numb as her emotions. She’d been on display for hours last night and then again today at the funeral and the graveside service. Tallie and Sheila had suggested that she lie down for a while, but Donna had been the one who had fended them off when she’d insisted on staying to meet every person who came by to share her grief. Donna was a widow herself, having lost her husband over five years ago, and she was the only one of her close friends who understood exactly what she was going through today. The last thing Susan needed right now was to be alone, lying down in the quiet, dark bedroom she had shared with Lowell.
Susan saw him the minute he entered the room. Tall, whipcord lean, with shoulders that looked five feet wide in his tan trench coat. His jet-black hair was damp, one strand curling down over his forehead. Hank Bishop. Her husband’s oldest and dearest friend. The man who had been best man at her wedding. The man she’d had a secret crush on during her teen years. The man she had fantasized about more than once when Lowell made love to her.
She shivered as guilt washed over her. She had no right to think of Hank Bishop in that way. No right whatsoever. She had loved Lowell. Who wouldn’t have? Lowell Redman had been the kindest, most gentle and loving man she’d ever known. And he had given her a good, safe and secure life as his wife. She’d been past thirty when they’d married, well past the age of expecting Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet. Besides, she knew herself well enough to know that anyone daring enough to sweep her off her feet would frighten her to death. Susan wasn’t a risk taker when it came to men and to life in general.
Lowell had been safe. Hank Bishop wasn’t.
Hank was dangerous to her. He always had been and he always would be. Just because in her secret fantasies she dreamed of being ravaged and claimed by Hank, didn’t mean she had actually wanted the man in her life.
He was walking toward her, his dark eyes seeking her out from the crowd. Her stomach quivered. Her heart fluttered. She wanted to scream at him, tell him to go away and never come back. She couldn’t bear to have him so close to her. She was afraid of leaning on him. More than anything she wanted his strong arms around her, wanted him to promise