He remembered those days with a strange sense of detachment. It had been a long time since he’d revisited them in his memory. He had simply accepted who he was, what he was. That is, until he came here and started wishing things could be different. Until Rachel reminded him of the dreams he’d once had, of a good life filled with someone who loved him.
“I told you I fought in the war.”
She nodded, refusing to look at him.
“During that time, I garnered myself a reputation as a sharpshooter. Afterward, I used that skill to pick up work. I was a Pinkerton for a bit, road gunner for Overland Stage, even did a stint as a marshal once. Each of those jobs built my reputation as a fast draw, and being young and cocky I didn’t care. I didn’t stop to think how it would affect things down the road. Didn’t realize people would want to try and build their own reputations by destroying mine.”
“By killing you.”
“Yes.” Caleb had never gone looking for trouble, but it found him nonetheless. He’d been twenty-three when a man called him out for no other reason than to be the one to outdraw Sinjin Drake. Caleb had tried to talk sense into the man, but the fool wouldn’t relent. He was dead before his body hit the litter-strewn streets of Laredo.
“I drifted around after that, changed my name a lot to try and put some distance between me and my reputation. I thought I had finally outrun it when I met Marianne. I shouldn’t have been surprised it caught up with me.” He glanced down at the table where his hand rested. His gun hand. “After that, I gave up. I left Caleb Beckett buried in the past. Figured sooner or later I’d die by the gun, and maybe that was all I deserved.”
Rachel took a deep breath and looked up. He could read nothing in her expression.
“Why did you kill Robert?”
“I—” He hesitated. This was the question he’d been dreading. The answer he knew he had to give. “We were playing cards. The stakes were high. When his money ran out, he put up the deed to the ranch. I tried to stop him, told him no card game was worth losing your home. But he wouldn’t listen. Said he would win the next hand and I’d be sorry.”
Rachel let out a derisive snort and mumbled something under her breath he couldn’t make out.
“When he lost the hand, he went crazy. Cursing and swearing, he threatened to make everyone at the table pay. He accused me of cheating then suddenly pushed back from the table and—”
“And what?”
He hated this. Hated reliving this moment. Remembering the stark desperation in Sutter’s eyes.
“He reached for his gun. I reacted...out of instinct and—”
“And you killed him.”
“Yes.”
He hadn’t hesitated. His reflexes had taken over and he’d drawn. In one swift motion he’d aimed and fired, and a man’s life was ended.
Rachel’s gaze fell away and returned to her lap. She rubbed absently at the buttery yellow flowers dotting the soft green skirt. Caleb wished he could end the story there, but he’d promised her the truth.
“There’s more.”
Rachel looked up and Caleb wished she had left her gaze on the flowered pattern of her dress. Pain and betrayal had turned her eyes the color of midnight.
“What more can there be? You shot him, then you came here, the deed to my ranch in your hand. You made me love you. Made love to me. The whole time...” She shook her head. “What else could there be to tell me?”
Caleb pushed the words out before they locked in his throat. “He didn’t have a gun.”
Rachel froze, trying to make sense of what Caleb was telling her.
“But...you said he drew.”
Caleb’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I said he made the motion.”
“I don’t understand.” Or she didn’t want to. Her head had already figured it out, but her heart refused to believe it. Because believing it would mean the man she loved was a cold-blooded killer.
Caleb continued. “Your husband didn’t have a gun. He’d sold it that afternoon to raise money for the game. He must have forgotten, or...I don’t know. It was well past midnight by then and he sat in shadow. When he reached for his gun I—”
“Shot him.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” The broad expanse of his shoulders crumpled inward and he dropped his face into his hands. “God help me, Rachel, I’m sorry.”
Anger burst through her as every moment they’d shared since he first rode into town flashed through her mind. All the opportunities he’d had to tell her the truth had been there for the picking, but he’d ignored every one. He’d let her go on thinking he was someone he wasn’t, someone she could trust, someone she could love.