****
The question that burned in Brandon's mind remained unasked through the day as they worked. By suppertime, Brandon had discovered many things about this younger brother of his, but still had not asked if he knew where their father was, or even if he still lived. He tried to convince himself it didn't matter to him – but it did. It haunted him, as he lay beside Allie in the darkness.
She turned to face him, laying her arm across his waist. "Well?"
He smiled, knowing her curiosity was getting the best of her, and had been, ever since this morning when he and Sam had gone to work on the burned barn together.
"Well, what?" he asked.
"What happened?"
He laughed at her impatience. "It all worked out." He told her about their conversation, and how Sam had learned they were brothers.
She shook her head. "All those years, he knew. I'm surprised he didn't run away and come looking for you."
"He did, once. But when they brought him back, the good sisters claimed to have spoken to me on his behalf, and that I told them I didn't want him."
"He believed them."
Brandon's lips twisted sardonically in the darkness. "Nuns never lie. Didn't you know that?" After a moment, he said, "I…told him there was nothing I could've done to help him when I was twenty. That I was almost as wild as he was. It's probably better it worked out like it did."
"What does he say? Does he feel the same?"
Brandon sighed heavily. "I don't know. Conditions weren't ideal there – but it seems they never are. Still, he had it pretty rough."
"Typical orphans' home, you mean?"
"Not just that. He was badly injured when he was young. His mother's village was burned to the ground. No one remembered he was asleep inside the lodge until it was almost too late."
Allie shivered. "Is…that what happened to his mother?"
Brandon nodded. "Yeah. She was killed and they expected him to die. But he survived, by some miracle. He was taken to an army camp hospital by an insistent doctor. He beat the odds and not only survived, but regained full use of his legs again."
"He must be terribly scarred," Allie said softly. "I noticed he wouldn't take his shirt off all day."
"Yeah," Brandon muttered, unwilling to divulge the details of his injuries that Sam had provided. His own flesh had burned at Sam's vivid, horrifying description of being trapped in the flames. "I didn't know what had happened, or I'd never have asked him to help me with the barn."
Allie's fingers stroked across his arm. "Did it seem to bother him?"
"No, but he's good at hiding his emotions."
She moved nearer, kissing his chin. "Something you both have in common."
Brandon pulled her flush with his body. "I'm not so good at that with you. Not anymore." He was glad to leave the subject of Sam behind. There was something about the boy's story that didn't quite ring true. He didn't know why, but Sam wasn't telling the truth – at least, not all of it.
There was a hint of laughter in Allie's voice when she spoke. "I can think of something else you're very good at with me – if you aren't too tired."
He rolled, moving across her, his mouth hovering just above hers. "That'll be the day."
Chapter 28
Two days passed and Brandon became more certain that Sam was keeping a huge chunk of the truth from him. The boy caught himself several times, backtracking, stuttering, if Brandon tried to pin him down. If he asked Sam a direct question, it seemed as if Sam took a moment to formulate the correct response before answering.
The matter of the boy's easy familiarity with the derringer was constantly in Brandon's thoughts, as well. Where had he learned to handle a gun like that? Moreover, how was it that he even possessed such a weapon at an orphans' home?
He'd taken Sam aside to work with him on one of the corner posts that needed reinforcement on the morning of the third day. Neither of them spoke as they worked, digging a hole much deeper and wider than the one that held the small, temporary post. The corners were important, and this one was the weakest. Today would be the day to start with this particular post and go the length of one full side, reinforcing and shoring up what was already in place.
Brandon's hand was mending well, but he had to remind himself that his injuries were barely a week old. They would heal just so fast, he thought, and nothing he could do would speed it. Most things were within his abilities now, if he took it slow and easy. But gripping the wood, wrestling this particular corner post into place, made him stop to ease the sudden sharp pain that rocketed through his hand, wrist, and past his elbow.
Sam immediately shouldered the burden, letting the post slide into the hole. He held it upright in place as Brandon rubbed at his wrist with his left hand. He made a grab for the post even as Sam steadied it.