Page 53 of Fairest of Heart

Titus shook his head as he pressed his hand over the open Bible. Tate would be jabbing him with an I told you so if he’d been here. How many times had Titus warned his brother against falling for a girl he barely knew? And he’d been right. At least when it came to Nora. But now he was falling for a girl himself. And after being acquainted with her for an even shorter time. Tate must be kicking back by those pearly gates feeling mighty smug as he watched Titus eat his words.

“Penelope’s nothing like Nora,” Titus murmured, only to have an image rise to mind of Tate guffawing at his need to justify himself to his dead brother.

A chuckle rose in his own throat as he closed the Bible’s cover. It felt good to picture Tate laughing and bustin’ Titus’s chops just like he had when they’d been growing up.

“I miss you, brother.”

Tate had always been eager to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. To extend second and third chances. He’d favored mercy where Titus had leaned hard into truth. Yes, his brother had been led astray by his soft heart, but Titus had closed himself off with a hard one. He might be the one still breathing, but was he actually living?

The post office door opened, and Titus glanced up to see the clerk step through with a telegram in his hand.

“I have that reply you were waiting on, sir.”

Titus rose and accepted the telegram. “Thanks.” He slipped the young man a coin, then tromped down the steps to the street to read his captain’s response in private.

Another theft reported. Ambrose Clayton. Granbury. Diamond cuff links. Matches your theory and troupe timeline. Pursue leads. Make arrest and make sergeant.

Another theft? Titus scowled at the paper, frustration rising until he realized the significance of the timing and location. His chest expanded as the last dregs of doubt drained away. His heart had recognized Penelope’s innocence, but now his head had inconvertible proof. Penelope had never traveled to Granbury. Madame LaBelle had expelled her from the troupe before arriving in town, which meant Penelope could no longer be considered a viable suspect. By anyone. Not when seven men of good character could provide her with alibis and testify as to her whereabouts on the date in question.

“I told you she was nothing like Nora,” he murmured beneath his breath as a smile stretched his face.

The oddest sensation came over Titus when he unhitched Rex and swung into the saddle. It was as if his big brother’s approval shone down from heaven and warmed his back. It was probably just the sun slipping out from behind a cloud, but he didn’t check the sky to confirm. He preferred attributing the warmth to Tate wishing him well, so he kicked logic out the back door and went with his gut.

Mercy and truth. Isn’t that what his mama and the good Lord had been reminding him of this afternoon? The truth was that Tate was gone. Yet by God’s mercy, the love they’d shared remained. Honoring his brother’s memory by bringing the wicked to justice served him well, but perhaps it was time to consider that life was about more than work, no matter how noble. Life was about love. Love for God, love for family, love for . . .

A vision of Penelope arrested his thoughts. He tried to shoo it away. He wasn’t ready to think of her in conjunction with the idea of love. Yet her image refused to be scattered. Her hand on his arm as she offered comfort and compassion. Her blushing cheeks as their discussion turned to corsets. Her ethereal beauty as she danced with butterflies.

Titus tucked his Bible back into his saddlebag, then mounted Rex and urged him into a canter as they left Glen Rose behind. He told himself he needed to make good time to get back to the ranch before dark, but the anticipation building in his chest had little to do with the setting sun.

When he finally reached the Diamond D, he spotted Penelope right away, sitting on the back porch. Waiting for him?

Titus grinned at the thought until she jumped up and ran toward him. Not like a woman eager to greet her man, but like a woman who had trouble dogging her heels.

He swept the yard with his gaze. Too quiet. Lucky wasn’t barking. No sign of the men. His gut turned to stone.

“Titus! Thank heaven you’re here.” Penelope’s gray eyes brimmed with worry.

He dismounted in a heartbeat and reached for her before he even recognized his intent. “What’s wrong?”

She pressed a hand to his chest as she peered up into his face. “Rowdy’s missing.”

23

Penelope had never considered herself to be a hand-wringing type of woman. One who fretted helplessly while waiting for the men around her to solve her problems. She hadn’t had that luxury since there’d never been any men around to offer. Necessity had taught her to be a roll up her sleeves and get to work kind of woman. Yet for the last hour and a half, she’d been doing more fretting and praying than working, and her nerves had about reached their limit. So when Titus slid off his horse and reached for her, she didn’t hesitate to lean into his sturdy strength.

“What happened?” His arm came around her waist like warm scaffolding. Secure. Steady. Supportive.

“No one knows. He didn’t come home for lunch, but the men weren’t too concerned. They told me Rowdy sometimes gets distracted and misses the midday meal, but he never misses supper. Today he did.” Penelope’s fingers fisted in Titus’s shirt. “What if he ran away because of what happened this morning?” Unable to meet Titus’s gaze, she turned her attention to the darkening horizon, to the ranchland that hid Rowdy from them. “I should have gone after him. Assured him I wasn’t angry. Encouraged him to talk to us.”

“I doubt he woulda listened.” Titus’s hand stroked the small of her back, his touch loosening a few of the knots she’d tied herself into since the others left. “A guilty conscience builds up a mighty strong hankering for escape in a man.”

“But what if he’s out there hurt somewhere? He hasn’t eaten a thing all day. You know how confused he can get. What if he’s gotten lost?”

Titus covered her hand with his and pressed her fingers flat against his chest. “Easy, Pen. Rowdy knows this land better than any of us. He’s not lost. Probably not hungry, either. Wouldn’t surprise me if he spent the afternoon fishing and is sitting in a shelter somewhere with a fire, water, and panful of fried bass. He knows how to take care of himself and live off the land.”

“But he needs to come home. To the people who love him.” Rowdy might very well be camping out with fried fish and a warm fire, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting. “Something is keeping him away, Titus. It might be an injury, a bout of confusion, or even a guilty conscience. The reason doesn’t matter. What matters is that he shouldn’t be alone. He should be with family so we can support and encourage him.”

Titus pulled back slightly, his gaze penetrating her in a way that made her feel exposed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you count yourself as part of the Diamond D family.”