The Return Of Adams Cade. Bj James
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that in the thirteen years he’d been away, there would have been many changes he couldn’t know about. “From what the doctor told me, Gus really isn’t much improved, and there’s nothing more the hospital can do for him that the nurses can’t do at…at Belle Reve.”
Eden saw in his brothers’ faces that each recognized Adams’ reluctance to call Belle Reve home. The sorrow she saw spoke of the memory that it was the eldest of Gus Cade’s sons who loved their father and their home the most.
Adams, Gus’ whipping boy. The devoted son who bore his father’s wrath without comment or rancor. The gentleman brawler, who laughed his way through countless battles and never held a grudge. Adams, the unexpected and tender lover who, on the night of her debut, had risen from their sandy bower to ride into Rabb Town, the isolated settlement of the Rabbs, the Cades’ most bitter rivals. The beloved brother and friend who had inexplicably beaten Junior Rabb within an inch of his life, then silently endured five years in prison, the eternal damnation of his father and exile from his family.
An act without recent provocation and far too costly. None of it made sense, and Adams had never offered any explanation, never claimed any defense. Instead, for a night of strange retribution, he had lost all he loved and all that mattered in his young life.
“I couldn’t believe it then,” Eden murmured on a low sigh. “I can’t believe it now.” Clasping her hands in her lap, she shook her head vehemently. “I won’t believe it. Ever.”
“Talking to yourself, sweet Eden?” Lincoln stood over her, a quizzical look on his handsome face. “Do we bore you that much with our reminiscing?”
Mustering a smile, Eden assured him he was mistaken. “You don’t bore me. A woman would have to be dead to be bored with the illustrious Cades. Especially with all four in the same room.”
“Illustrious, huh?” Lincoln sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “That’s what you were muttering about?”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe you were remembering the Adams who carried your heart in his hands?” At her sharp look, he smiled kindly. “You thought no one noticed? That, as young as we were, we couldn’t see? Sweetheart, all of us knew, even Jefferson at just thirteen. All except Adams, that is…until it was too late.”
“Why did he go there, Lincoln? Why to Rabb Town?” Eden asked the question she’d asked herself a thousand times. A question that never seemed to have an answer. “Why would he ride horseback all those miles through dangerous swamps and rough trails? Adams harbored no ill will for the Rabbs. They were the ones, they bore the animosity, hating everyone. Junior most of all. I don’t understand. None of it made any sense thirteen years ago. It makes no sense now.”
“I know, Eden.” Lincoln shrugged, but Eden knew it wasn’t in dismissal of her concern or for lack of caring.
“What do you think, Lincoln?” He was an intuitive man, a veterinarian of uncanny talents, as her grandfather had been. Since her return to Belle Terre, Eden had heard the locals discuss his unique diagnostic skills. Among those who raised horses, it was a favorite topic over dinner at River Walk. Eden couldn’t believe Lincoln’s insight was restricted to the animals he treated. “Tell me,” she pleaded. “Surely you must have some theory, some thoughts on what happened that night.”
Lincoln sat beside her. His hands gripping his knees, his head down, he was caught up in thoughts her questions raised. “What do I think?” he asked at last. “Or what do I know?”
Eden’s heart leaped at the idea there might be some evidence in Adams’ favor. Before the thought was completed, she knew its folly. If Lincoln knew anything to debunk the Rabbs’ claims, anything to disprove the sheriff’s case, he would have spoken up long ago. Even so, she wanted to hear what this wisest of Adams’ brothers might say. “Tell me. Please.”
“It isn’t much, sweet Eden.” Lincoln’s large, work-worn hand covered hers as it rested against her thigh. “It’s all conjecture at best and because I know my brother.”
“I don’t care about the whys or wherefores, Lincoln,” Eden exclaimed in a low, ragged voice. “I only want to know what you think and what you believe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper he could barely hear. “I don’t need to know why or how you came to believe it.”
“Shh,” Lincoln quieted her with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Shh.” With his calm reaching out to her, he waited until the quick catch in her breath slowed and the flush faded from her cheeks. In all the time since she’d returned to Belle Terre, in the too-rare times their paths had crossed, he’d never seen the coolly sophisticated Eden Claibourne so wonderfully alive.
More than that, he’d never seen a woman so much in love. His brother’s life had been hard and tragic. But no man had ever been as fortunate as Adams was in Eden.
“What I believe is that my brother is innocent.” As eyes a shade darker than his own held his look steadily, a wry, humorless smile rippled across his craggy face. “What I think is that he’s hiding something. Perhaps to protect someone.”
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