O’Connell cursed as his stomach drew tight. Pete knew. He had sent him purposefully to find Catherine.

Panic swept through him. That meant Pete wouldn’t be far behind. He had to get her to safety before his brother showed up and used her to drag him back into robbery.

But how? She’d never leave her business or her orphans.

“This is bad,” he whispered. “Real bad.”

Catherine looked into the saddlebags. “Where did this come from?” she asked the boy.

“I was told it was stolen from you,” O’Connell said as he double-checked where the marshal sat.

Looking up at him, Catherine frowned. “By whom?”

“Is it yours?” O’Connell asked, seeking to delay the inevitable explanation of how he’d come by her money. “Were you robbed?”

“Yes, we were. But how did you get it?”

So much for delaying the inevitable.

She looked at him sternly. “Did you take it?”

“No!” he barked. “How could you even ask that?”

“Well, what am I to think?” she asked as she set the saddlebags on the table and excused the boy.

She moved to stand just before him, hands on hips. “I thought I knew you, and yet every time I blink I learn something about you that scares me. Now tell me how it is you have my money.”

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.