Chapter Thirty-Three

            Wyatt hung onto Zachariah's hand as he stood with his back in Zachariah's chest and Zachariah's arm draped over his shoulder.  They were on the porch of Jeb and Gill's house and Wyatt had yet to hear exactly why and how Zachariah had come to be a dead man.

            He had insisted that he only wanted to have to tell the story once and wanted everyone around to hear it so he wouldn't have to repeat it.

            Eleanor sat at a tiny table with Jane and Preston while Willie smacked at the table and attempted to chew his mother's sombrero.

"Faking your death?" Pete mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Couldn't you come up with something a bit more original?"

            Zachariah chuckled, the sound rumbling against Wyatt's back. "I figured if I was going to live on a ranch full of dead folks, I might as well be a dead folk too."

            Wyatt twisted his neck and looked up at Zachariah. Instantly Zachariah's gaze went to his mouth. 'How much of that newspaper story was true?' Wyatt asked. He had read the article while riding back to the ranch.

            Zachariah shrugged one shoulder, the scars on his cheeks twisting as he smiled down at Wyatt. "I reckon most of it is right—but I don't know what it says word for word."

            "Well then tell us what happened," Jeb encouraged. "The article said those men were dead, are they?"

            "The real dead," Pete spoke up. "Not dead like us."

            Zachariah nodded. "Yeah, they're dead. It took me longer than I thought it would to track them down and corner them so I could kill them. They are dead, I can promise you that, but I took a bullet to the chest."

            Wyatt thought about that new scar low on Zachariah's ribs. "I damn near did die," Zachariah continued. "It took months for me to recover and I paid the doctor to keep quiet about my recovery. He agreed to let me die—at least as far as the public knew. He even put a casket full of rocks in a hole with my name on a wooden cross above it."

            "Are you sure they're dead?" Eleanor whispered, her wide brown eyes shining.

            Zachariah held Wyatt a little tighter and Wyatt gave his hand a squeeze, knowing the man was struggling with guilt he continued to carry. "I'm sure, Eleanor," Zachariah insisted. "What's left of them is rotting in the desert. I managed to drag myself onto my horse and get to a town. It was night and no one but the doc ever knew I was locked in the backroom."

            "Well I for one am glad you're back," Jane announced cheerfully. "Poor Wyatt has been lost without you."

            Zachariah shifted his feet and replied with an awkward clearing of his throat. "I'm glad to be back too, ma'am."

            Pete laughed while Jeb and Gill chuckled. "Don't call me ma'am," Jane grumbled. She adjusted her sombrero and tossed her shoulders back. "Do I look nearly old enough to be a ma'am yet?"

            Pete nudged Zachariah's ribs with his elbow and leaned toward him. "The correct answer to that question is yes," he mock-whispered.

            Jane threw a baby rattle at him, catching him in the chest. "Kiss my ass, Pete," she snorted.

            Pete grinned and shook the rattle with a wink. "With pleasure."

            Willie clearly was not happy to see his rattle being abused. He let out a squeal and reached out a chubby hand. "Dada!" he hollered.

            Pete smiled from ear to ear and rushed to the boy. He scooped him into his arms and nuzzled his neck, causing the boy to giggle joyfully.

            Wyatt smiled at his family's antics. It was good to see them all together and happy once again. Preston was reading a book just as he did ninety percent of the time Gill and Jeb were relaxed and watching Pete and Willie. Everyone was happy and at peace.....

            Except Craig.

            Wyatt turned his head to see Craig stepping off the porch and walking toward the barn with his hands deep in his pockets. He squirmed from Zachariah's arms and Zachariah frowned. "Where are you going?"

            Wyatt pointed to Craig and Zachariah followed his gaze. He frowned. "Still acting like a child?"

            Wyatt glared up at his man and Zachariah held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine," he relented. "But I still think the man should grow up."

            "That makes two of us," Jebidiah muttered.

            Wyatt's gaze went toward the sky and he stepped off the porch, following after his friend.

            Wyatt stepped into the barn to find Craig sitting on a bale of hay with his back to him and his shoulders drooping. "What do you want, Wyatt?" Craig grumbled without looking back.

            Wyatt walked to the hay bale and took a seat beside his best friend. Craig glanced over at him. 'Aren't you happy for me?' Wyatt knew it might seem a selfish question to ask but he felt it needed asking.

            Wyatt had always tried to take care of his family. He'd tried to protect them, care for them, check on them if they seemed down..... and how did Craig repay him? By acting like Zachariah coming back was the worst thing in the world. It was enough to rile even Wyatt's temper.

            Craig rolled his eyes. "I am happy for you."

            Wyatt raised a brow. 'You don't look very happy.'

            Craig sighed and kicked at straw with his foot. "I'm trying to be, Wyatt, I really am.. it's just..." Craig stopped and buried his face in his hands.

            Wyatt nudged him gently with his shoulder to encourage him to keep speaking. Craig didn't look up as he spoke. "I lost Willie... and then I lost myself.. and then I lost you to Zachariah.. and then I got you back and I thought we'd be going back to the way it was in the past—I thought we'd be like we used to be..." Wyatt recalled Craig's plans for them to go out camping 'just like old times'. Craig sighed. "But now he's back and I've lost you all over again."

            Wyatt sighed and begged for patience. He tapped Craig's temple so the man would look at him. 'You didn't lose me. I'm right here.'

            Craig stood up and threw his hands in the air, pacing as he continued speaking. "Yeah, I have! You've settled down with Zachariah—or at least you will. And Jeb has Gill. Jane has Pete. Willie is dead—well big Willie is—little Willie ain't the best of company."

            Wyatt laughed at the thought of big Willie and little Willie. Even Craig smiled and shrugged both shoulders with defeat. "I'm happy for you, Wyatt, honest I am. I hated seeing you so sad. The problem isn't you, or anyone here, it's me. I need to figure out what the hell I'm doing here."

            'What do you mean?'

            Craig patted a brown mare on the neck. "I need to go out on my own, I think. I need to find something. My whole life was always this gang and the people in it... I guess I need to go find something that's just mine."

            Wyatt swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. The person he'd been before Zachariah would have rebelled strongly at the idea of someone he cared about going out alone—but Wyatt understood now. He'd left the gang too and went out searching for his own life and it had led him to Zachariah.

            Maybe Craig would find happiness too.

            Wyatt desperately wanted his best friend to be happy because he knew he hadn't been for a long long time.

            So, swallowing his own hurt at knowing his best friend was leaving, Wyatt stood and threw his arms around Craig, hugging him tightly.

            Craig stood there awkwardly a moment before returning the hug with gusto. "I really am happy for you, Wyatt."

            Wyatt pulled away and smiled through his sadness. 'I know. Good luck out there. I hope you find something that makes you happy.'

            Craig reached out and picked at a knot in the wooden beam beside him. "Jeb will probably throw one hell of a fit when he finds out I'm leaving."

            Wyatt shrugged. 'He'll understand... once he's taken time to think about it.'

            "You mean once Gill has finished lecturing him?" Craig amended.

            A grin split Wyatt's face. 'Gill is good for Jeb. He makes him lighten up.'

            Craig put his arm around Wyatt's shoulders. "And Zachariah is good for you. Don't you worry none about me, Wyatt. I'll be just fine."

            Wyatt smiled but inside he was more than a little worried. Craig would either find whatever it was he was needing out there or he would completely lose himself to the whiskey and never be the same as he'd once been.

            Wyatt just had to let him go and hope for the best—that's all that could be done.

***

            'The line shack? You want to live in the line shack?' Wyatt demanded.

            Zachariah nodded as he looked at the dilapidated wooden excuse for a building. "Yep."

            'But it's... . it's a shack! It's falling down!'

            Zachariah chuckled and pulled Wyatt into his arms, enjoying the way the sunset shone off his dark skin. "It needs help," Zachariah agreed. "But I don't mind putting in some hard work if you don't. I want to have a place for us to be alone."

            Zachariah nibbled at Wyatt's neck and didn't miss the way the other man's knees buckled. Wyatt chewed furiously at his lip. 'But why the shack?' he finally inquired.

            "I have good memories here," Zachariah replied releasing his hold on Wyatt. "I like those memories."

            'Good memories?' Wyatt let out a silent laugh. 'This is where I kept you tied up as a prisoner!'

            Zachariah nodded. "True. But it's also where I met you and that's a good damn memory." He loved the way Wyatt beamed at his admission. Then Zachariah winked. "Plus, I happen to think we made some good memories in there just a while ago."   

            This had Wyatt flushing and looking down at his feet. Zachariah pulled him into his arms once again. "Now, if you're done arguing, I'd like to get in there and make a few more memories."

            'If you're wanting a lot of new memories, we're gonna need a bigger bed than that cot,' Wyatt warned.

            Zachariah scooped him up into his arms and carried him toward the door. "The smaller the bed, the closer we'll be. That works for me."

            Wyatt laid a hand on Zachariah's scarred cheek. 'I'm glad you came back to me....'

            Zachariah leaned into his man's touch. "I told you I would, Wyatt. I'll always keep my word to you."

            'Can I have your word that we'll get a bigger bed? And a better stove? And an outhouse for God's sake?'

            Zachariah laughed. "Demanding little fella, aren't you?"

            'Can I?'

            Zachariah laid Wyatt down upon the rickety cot. Hell that man painted such a damn picture staring up at him that way, that Zachariah would give him the damned moon just to ensure he'd still look at him that way tomorrow. "You can have whatever you want, Wyatt. Just so long as I get to have you."

A/N: And that's the end of 'An Outlaw's Silence'! Thanks to everyone who stuck with me and read Wyatt and Zachariah's journey :) The next book in the series is 'Outlaw Vices'