Dallas faced him squarely. “You are my son.”
Overcome with emotions, afraid he was going to do something unmanly like tear up, Rawley shook his head. “It should all go to Faith.”
“There’s plenty for her.”
“I’m not going to take what rightfully belongs to your blood.”
Dallas shook his head. “I spent twenty years trying to ensure you felt like family, and I managed to destroy it all with one quick jump to a conclusion and a punch. I’m going to regret that for the rest of my life.”
“You’ve got nothing to regret. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I have to find my own destiny, make my own way.”
Dallas chuckled low. “My brothers felt the same. I tried to corral them in and map out their lives for them, but eventually they broke free. I reckon maybe you’re right. It’s time to be your own man, not a shadow of what I think you should be. Later, we’ll go to the bank, get you some funds—”
“No.” He needed to leave now while his jaw still ached, and he could vividly recall how it had felt to have Faith in his arms. “I’ve got enough money saved.” And he wanted to do this on his own. “All I need is the horse, my saddle and gear.”
The hardest part was saying good-bye to the woman he considered to be his mother. He hugged her tightly, not sure where he found the strength to let her go.
Blinking back tears, she patted his cheek. “You write to me often, let me know where you are and how you’re doing.”
“I will.”
He stuck out his hand to Dallas, grateful when the man gave it a firm shake. “There will always be a place here for you.”
“Appreciate it.” He hesitated, then added, “There’s no reason for Faith to know what happened this morning.”
“How are you going to explain the swelling lip?”
“I’ll handle it.”
He returned to his cabin, grateful to find Faith still sleeping. Leaning against the doorjamb, he memorized every aspect of her. The tangled mess of her black hair spread across his pillow, the lithe length of her body curled on his bed. Her long limbs that he desperately wanted wrapped around him.
She looked so innocent in slumber, her thick, sooty lashes resting on her high cheekbones. The sun had bronzed her skin without leaving a single freckle behind. In his eyes, she was flawless.
He regretted he was going to miss the flare of her temper when she awoke to find him gone. She was the most beautiful when her passions ran high. But he didn’t want to carry with him any bitter words that might arise between them, and if she shed any tears, he didn’t know if he’d find it within himself to do what needed to be done. With a lonesome sigh he left her to her dreams.
After packing a few things in his saddlebags, he mounted his horse and headed west.
Chapter Nine
August 1909
“Uncle Rawley, do you have a dog?” Callie asked, around the piece of bacon she was nibbling.
Faith and her daughter had arrived in time for breakfast, and so far the meal had been as quiet as the one the night before—which meant not quiet at all.
“I used to,” he said.
Her delicate brow pleated. “What happened to it?”
It had grown old and he’d had to put it down, one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life, but did he tell her all that? Did she know about death?
“He went to play in heaven,” Faith said, sparing him the torment of possibly breaking this child’s heart.
“You should get another one.”
The girl was as bossy as her mother. “Maybe someday I will when I’m a bit more settled.”
“I like dogs.” To prove her point, she gave the last bit of her bacon to the scruffy mutt. “Rufus sleeps with me.”
