"Why do you say that?"
"People say—" Sam stopped and glanced away, into the tree-line of the woods behind them. "They think because of what happened to me – I might not should be around the others." He jerked his head toward where the voices sounded faintly, boisterous, laughing childish voices that rang with a freedom that Brandon expected his brother had never experienced. And, neither had he. He wanted to tell Sam he understood – but he didn't, really. Not yet.
"Bad influence?" Brandon murmured.
Sam's lips curved up caustically. "You think that, too?"
Brandon shook his head. "No. I don't know you well enough to make that call yet."
"I figured that was why you pulled me out to work with you."
"Sam—" Brandon looked down, hiding his surprise. "No. I pulled you out to work with me because you're the strongest – and because I wanted to talk to you privately."
"To find out… Never mind." His lips thinned in a stubborn line.
Brandon stood and walked close to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "What could be that bad, Sam? What can be so terrible that brothers can't share it?"
"You want to know?" Sam's eyes flared with the pent-up anger that always seemed to smolder beneath the surface. "I'll tell you." He walked away from Brandon, then turned to face him. "We have an uncle. Did you know? Uncle Isaac – the dear younger brother of our father." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I lived with him from the time I was ten until I was thirteen." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "See, I did leave the orphans' home – looking for you. The big brother who had a name for himself. The only brother I had."
There was something odd about that declaration. He waited for Sam to go on, not asking any questions. Not yet.
"I slipped into the office late one evening and found my file. It was a wealth of information. 'Father, Robert Gabriel'," he said, as if reading the words indelibly stamped in his mind. "He didn't see fit to give me his name – at least, you got that much of him. 'Mother, half-breed Comanche woman' – though I suspect they claim she's a half-breed out of pity for me. Being a quarter Comanch must somehow be less shameful than being half-blood. Somewhere, in the paperwork, though, they mention her name: Two Lakes. Not much of a half-breed name, is it, brother? No, I think I'm just as red as you are, don't you?"
Without waiting for a response, he went on. "I found that the man who'd dropped me there at the orphans' home was none other than my own dear uncle – 'Isaac Gabriel, younger brother of the boy Samuel's father, who is unable to care for the boy.'
"And that's how I found him, Brandon. See, I didn't remember anything much when he brought me there – I was only five. My mother had been dead not even a year. I had healed enough to – to walk again."
"You were still at the army outpost?"
"The doctor was very kind." Sam's voice lowered a notch. "His new wife was not. She didn't want an Indian boy in her home."
Brandon crossed his arms. "What happened?"
"I was well enough to leave." He shrugged. "And she suggested it. Quite strongly." He gave Brandon a faint smile. "Well, what would you do? I didn't blame him for locating dear Uncle Isaac. I didn't know he was my uncle at the time – only that he was going to get me safely to my new home. Which, he did."
"What is so terrible about all this, Sam? I don't understand—"
Sam held up a staying hand. "When I was ten, I left to find you, like I said. But the only way I knew to do that was to find Isaac Gabriel, hoping he might know where you were…and, if he did, that he would tell me."
Brandon walked away a few steps. He'd never thought of the possibility of tracking his father through any of his siblings; hadn't even realized his father had a brother. Were there more? Did it matter? They hadn't wanted him or Sam.
Were there more? The question took on new meaning. If there were two of them, he and Sam, might there be others? More brothers, maybe sisters— Robert Gabriel had no thought of keeping his pants buttoned, it seemed. There could be a slew of his children scattered—
"Did he? Did he tell you?" Brandon's voice was quiet. The thought of who else could be out there rocked him. He'd never thought he'd had a brother. Now that he knew about Sam, it opened up any number of possibilities.
"Yes." Sam gave a caustic bark of laughter. "Oh, yes, brother. He knew where you were, because he wanted to stay clear of you – and that gun of yours."
Brandon turned to him quickly. "Why? I didn't even know about him. I have no quarrel with him, anyhow."
"He was afraid. Thought you might come after him as revenge against our pa leaving you and your ma. Then, doing it again with me. I tried to tell him, you didn't know I even existed. But he was so afraid. He said if I could find him, you could."
"Why didn't you, Sam?"
"He wouldn't let me go."