O’Connell didn’t have a chance. Before he could say a word, the back door opened to show Pete holding one of Catherine’s little girls in his arms.

“Knock, knock,” Pete drawled. He flashed an evil grin to O’Connell, then lifted the little girl’s face to where O’Connell could see her tear-streaked eyes. “Look what old Uncle Pete found out in the yard.”

5

O’Connell felt the air leave his lungs as he gazed into a pair of eyes indistinguishable from his own. They were set in a face that looked identical to Catherine’s, right down to the dark brown curls spilling over Pete’s arm.

In an instant, he recognized his daughter.

Sobbing uncontrollably, the girl looked to Catherine. “Help me, Mama! Make the mean man let me go.”

Catherine took a step toward the girl, but O’Connell grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

No one approached his brother. If Catherine tried to take the girl, there was no telling what Pete might do to her.

“Let her go, Pete,” O’Connell said, his calm voice belying the volatile state of his mind and body.

Pete gave an evil smile. “I told you in Oak River, you can’t escape me, Kid. Now I ask you again, are you coming with me or what?”

“Oak River?” he heard Catherine repeat under her breath.

That was the town where he’d left her. Only then, Pete had used Catherine as his leverage. It was either go with Pete to rob another bank or see his wife hurt.

After the robbery, O’Connell had lacked the heart to go back to her. He couldn’t face her after what he’d done for Pete. Worse, he knew that sooner or later Pete would show up again with the same threat.

And the last thing he wanted was to kill his brother for hurting his wife.

So long as there was life in his body, he would protect his Catherine.

You’re my second chance. That’s what O’Connell had told her on their wedding night. Catherine hadn’t known what he’d meant by it. But he had.

For a time, he had been stupid enough to believe it. But second chances were for fools.

And Catherine could never again be his.

“I’ll come with you, Pete. Just put her down.”

Pete nodded. “Good boy. I knew you’d see things my way once you saw them again.” Pete squeezed the girl’s cheeks and tilted her head up to where he could look into her face. “She is kind of cute, isn’t she?”

Rage infused every cell of O’Connell’s body. “Take your hands off her, Pete, or I’ll kill you for it.”

His brother met his gaze and for several seconds they stared at each other in mutual understanding. “You know. Kid, I believe you would.”

“You can count on it.”

O’Connell didn’t breathe again until Pete set the girl on her feet, and she ran to Catherine’s outstretched arms.

Pete glanced to Catherine and the little girl. “Since it’s Christmas and all, I’ll give you five minutes with them. I’ll be waiting outside by the horses.”

O’Connell waited for him to leave before he turned to face Catherine, who cradled the little girl to her chest.

His daughter.

He felt so much pride and delight, he thought his heart might burst. But the joy died as he remembered his brother waiting for him outside.

O’Connell reached a hand out to touch the dark brown curls. The softness of his daughter’s hair reached deep inside him, carving a place in his heart.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed.

Catherine saw the pain deep inside him and she noted the tenseness of his hand on Diana’s hair. “Her name is Diana.”

He gave a bittersweet smile. “Named for your mother?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her in Nevada?” he asked, his eyes misting.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until after you left.” She narrowed her gaze on him as she finally understood everything that had happened. “You left because of him, didn’t you?”

“He’s my brother,” he said simply. “I had no choice.”

“We always have choices.”

He shook his head. “No, we don’t. You don’t know what kind of man my brother is, but I do. I know he’s cruel, but I owe him. If not for Pete, I’d have never survived after the death of our parents. He’s harsh because that’s the way the world made him.”

“He’s harsh because he’s – ”

O’Connell stopped her words by placing his fingers on her lips. His heart tearing apart, he leaned over, kissed her gently on the mouth, and whispered, “Until the day I die, I’ll always remember you.”

He touched Diana’s hair one last time, then he turned and walked away.

O’Connell met Pete by his pinto, which Pete must have saddled. His brother was as fair-haired and fair-skinned as O’Connell was dark. The two of them had always been opposites in most everything. Even Pete’s eyes were a brownish green.

And never before had O’Connell felt so much resentment and hatred for the brother who had once protected him.

“Why can’t you just let me go?” he asked Pete. “I’ve paid my debt to you a thousand times over.”

Pete gave him a hard glare. “You’re my family, Kid. Like it or hate it, it’s just you and me.” Pete smiled wickedly. “Besides, you’re the only man I know who can blow a safe and not destroy half the money with it.”

“You’re not funny.”

Pete shucked him on the shoulder. “Now, don’t get sore on me, Kid. You can do better than her. I told you that years ago. She ain’t nearly pretty enough for you.”

He grabbed Pete by his shirtfront. “I’m not a kid anymore, Pete, and I’m no longer scared of you. Catherine is my wife and she deserves your respect. If you ever say anything else against her, as God is my witness, I’ll tear your hide apart for it.”

For the first time in his life, he saw a glimmer of fear pass through Pete’s eyes. “All right, Kid. Whatever you say.”

O’Connell let him go. He had barely taken a step when he heard the front door of the boardinghouse open.

The marshal strode out across the porch with two men in tow. And all three of them carried shotguns in their arms. By the grim, determined looks on their faces, he knew what they wanted.

Him and Pete.

His blood went cold.

The marshal stared at Pete as he leveled the shotgun on them. “Pete O’Connell,” he said slowly. “Never did I expect to receive such a great Christmas present. Imagine the bounty of both O’Connell brothers.”

Pete swore, then went for his gun.

O’Connell didn’t think. He merely reacted. He was tired of his brother’s schemes, and tired of the lives Pete had taken for no reason.

It was time for it to end.

He grabbed his brother’s gun, and the two of them struggled for it.

Catherine watched the men tussle from the parlor window. She had sent Diana upstairs with Rebecca, then immediately sought out the marshal to let him know there was a possible outlaw outside.

She pressed her hand to her lips as terror sliced through her as she watched the two men fighting for possession of the gun. What had she done?

A gunshot rang out.

Catherine stopped breathing. Michael and Pete froze and locked gazes. Time seemed suspended as she waited.

Who had been shot?

Then Michael staggered back, and she saw the red stain on his shirtfront right before he collapsed on the ground.

“No!” she shouted as tears stung the backs of her eyes. It couldn’t be Michael! It couldn’t be.

Pete just looked down at him, his face indecipherable.

Dropping her shawl, Catherine ran for the door, down the steps, and across the yard to Michael’s side.

His brother stood coldly to the side as the marshal and his men put irons on his wrists.

Sobbing, she knelt by Michael’s side. Terrified and shaking, she touched his cold brow.

“Michael?” she breathed.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. In that look she saw the love he had for her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her fingertips to his lips.

“Save your strength,” she whispered. She looked up to Marshal McCall, who stared angrily at Pete.

“I always heard you were mean, but damn, to shoot your own brother on Christmas? You’re a sick man, O’Connell,” the marshal said to Pete.

His face blank, Pete glanced down to her and Michael, then back at the marshal.

“What are you, stupid? Do we look like brothers?” Pete drawled slowly. “My brother got killed in Shiloh last month during our last holdup. That there’s just some stupid cow-poke thinks he’s a bounty hunter. Bastard’s been trailing me for weeks. I don’t even know his name.” Pete locked gazes with her, then shocked her with his words, “But I think the lady over there knows him. Ask her who he is.”

The marshal gave her a probing stare. “That true, Miss Catherine? You know this man?”

A tremor of panic shook her as she realized Michael’s entire fate was in her hands.

What should she answer?

She looked down at Michael’s calm, deliberate stare. He expected her to betray him. She could read it plainly in his eyes as he waited for her to denounce him.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t know everything yet, but before she handed him over to the marshal, she wanted some long-overdue answers. Answers he couldn’t very well give her locked up in jail.

“He’s my husband,” she answered honestly. “Michael O’Callahan.”

The marshal gave her a hard stare. “I thought you said your husband ran off.”

“He did,” she said, looking back at Michael. “But he came home to me last night.”

“Farley,” the marshal shouted to his deputy. “Help me carry Miss Catherine’s husband inside while Ted locks up O’Connell.”

The marshal helped her to her feet.