Brand closed his eyes, attempting to reign in the feelings of rage still coursing through his body. He looked over at Amelia, sitting hunched over in the alley, and his heart softened. Brand slowly walked to her side and hunkered next to her. Silent tears streamed from her closed eyes in moist rivulets down ivory cheeks.
“Amelia.” Brand gingerly framed her chin between bruised and battered hands, turning her face toward his own. “Amelia, darlin’, it’s gonna be alright now,” Brand reassured her as blue eyes finally fixed on his own. She didn’t speak. Brand sighed as he sat in the dust next to her, gently coaxing her into the circle of his arms. Holding her as she cried, Brand whispered words of comfort and reassurance until Dylan showed up, riding shot-gun as Doc Childers drove a wagon.
Chapter 6
The ride to Doc Childers was short, but to Amelia it seemed to take forever. The desire to leap over the side and run, warred with the desire to remain forever the in the strong arms of Brand Callahan.
Brand.
Amelia squeezed her eyes tight as she unashamedly buried her face in the soft fabric of his flannel shirt, immediately comforted as his arms tightened around her. Wishing she could draw his strength into herself, Amelia inhaled deeply, memorizing his scent, leather and fire and soap.
Unbidden, Amelia’s thoughts turned to the events which had led to her being held in the arms of this wonderful man. She had spent the evening alone in her room. It had been some time since she had lingered in any of the common rooms above the mercantile, preferring the quiet solitude of her own room. Amelia immersed herself in a new dime novel which had arrived in a shipment earlier that day.
She was startled out of her book when she heard heavy steps on the stairs leading up to the family’s living quarters, Harmon’s slurred speech rumbling as he stumbled up the steps, his large shoulders bouncing on the walls as he tried to maintain his balance.
Quickly snuffing her candle, Amelia had prayed Harmon would bypass her room, and make his way to his own without disturbing her.
Her prayers went unanswered. She tried to squelch her surprised shriek, but it had escaped her lips without her permission. The terror in her eyes amused her brother, his face lit with a grin. And then-Amelia shook her head against the rest of the memory. It would do no good to dwell upon them. But never had she been so relieved in all her life as when she’d opened her eyes to see the concerned gaze of Brand Callahan.
She still couldn’t believe what had happened next. She could never have imagined Brand capable of delivering such a beating as he did that night. His long, lean build hid an amazing strength that had rendered Harmon unconscious almost immediately.
Grateful tears welled behind her closed lids until they seeped out to dampen Brand’s shirt further. His soft words of comfort rumbled in his chest as warmth spread through Amelia. Brand had saved her.
Amelia lifted her head to peer at her brother where he lay unconscious on the other side of the wagon. Sawyer Hughes sat watch over him as Dylan drove the wagon. She felt no remorse-no regret that Brand had come upon them that night. She had, in fact, been praying someone would. Amelia had never been so relieved and full of hope as she was right then. Maybe her feelings were premature, but she hoped not. And as her heart was washed with an overwhelming feeling of peace, her mind succumbed to blissful oblivion.
Brand released a relieved sigh, as he felt Amelia’s soft body slump against his as she fell asleep. Unwelcome emotions briefly overcame him as he became aware of every inch of the woman for which he had harbored a secret attraction. Gritting his teeth, Brand pushed his feelings aside, instead focusing on what had just happened. He would never forget the moment he realized it was Amelia curled in the dirt, her arms wrapped protectively over her head. The rage had been so complete as to take over every conscious thought and pure instinct had taken over.
The events of this night were new territory for him. He and his brothers-and even Beau, had gone a few rounds over the years, but that was just boys being boys, nothing the likes of the beating he had just given Harmon McAlister. It was a good thing Sawyer had come when he did. Brand didn’t know if he would have stopped on his own. There was no telling how long Harm had been unconscious with Brand still pounding on him. Yet, as he sat with a bruised and bullied Amelia in his arms, he’d be damned if he could muster a spark of remorse for what he’d done.
It was long past midnight, and the ride into town was quiet. None of the men in the wagon made a sound. Harmon had not moved since being unceremoniously dumped onto the planks of the wagon bed. Sawyer sat, jaw clenched, his eyes trained on the road behind. Brand knew the men were waiting to ask their questions, not wanting to upset Amelia. Brand’s relief was profound as they pulled in front of the doctor’s house, his desire to see Amelia safe and comfortable overwhelming him.
The door to the little white house swung open to reveal the doctor’s wife Emma, a black silhouette in the illuminated doorway, a blanket clutched in her arms.
Dylan and Doc Childers climbed down from the wagon seat and made their way to the back where Harmon lay. Sawyer roused himself from his reverie, rising to help Dylan carry the unconscious man into the house. Brand slid to the end of the wagon with Amelia tucked securely in his arms. Emma was there to wrap the blanket around her as soon as Brand’s feet hit the ground.
“This way, Brand,” she said quietly, patting his back in a motherly sort of way as she herded him into the house. “In here.” She bustled ahead of him into a small room containing only a bed, a chest of drawers, and a small woodstove. Brand recognized it as the same room Amy had lain in only a few months earlier after a frightening fall into Carson’s Creek.
Brand stepped to the bed with his burden. Emma pulled back the covers and moved aside so he could lay Amelia on the bed. Brand felt inexplicably bereft. He did not want to let her go, now-or he realized with a flash of clarity-ever.
Ignoring Emma, Brand knelt beside Amelia and brushed a lock of silken hair from her cheek. She looked so still…so peaceful, and amazingly, without blemish. There was not a mark on her face, he realized. Anxiety built within him as he remembered the blows Amelia’s small, feminine body had absorbed before he had been able to stop Harmon. His gaze traveled the length of her, still covered by her clothing and the blanket Emma had placed around her. What horror was hiding beneath all those layers? Brand’s eyes flicked toward the open door. Where was Doc?
“Brand.” Emma’s usually gruff demeanor, was soft in the quiet of the night. She placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. “I need to remove her clothing so Doc can get a look at her. Why don’t you step into the hall?”
Brand felt every muscle clench in rebellion at her words. He thought back to the day he entered this room to see his sister lying still as death on this very bed. He remembered Emma making the same demand of Beau…and his response.
“No.” Brand stood, his decision made. “No, Emma, I’m not leaving her.”
Emma froze, a look of stunned dismay on her face, her rosy cheeks turning pale in the firelight. However, it took less than a second for her to regain her composure.
“Now, Brand-,” she started, her pudgy finger wagging indignantly in his direction.
“Emma!” Brand shouted, although not unkindly, his patience with the situation at an end. Under other circumstances, Brand might have laughed at the expression of surprise on the woman’s face. Today, however, he was just thankful she had been silenced by his rudeness.
“Emma, I’m gonna marry this girl. I’m not leaving her, not for one moment am I leaving her,” Brand paused, taking a deep breath. “I will give her my back, but I am staying right here.” And without another word Brand turned to face the window wondering what had possessed him to make such a claim. He knew, however, as soon as the words left his mouth-it was exactly what he was going to do. Exactly what he wanted to do...and had wanted for some time. He would marry Amelia McAlister.
Sighing, Brand rubbed his callused hand over his face, the physical and emot
ional strain of the day taking its toll. He fleetingly wondered how Harmon was faring and was anxious to talk to Dylan. However, he would wait until he was sure Amelia was going to be all right. Brand listened as Emma rummaged through the bureau drawers until she found what she was looking for. She murmured soft words of comfort as she started to remove Amelia’s clothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, trying not to think about what was happening behind him.
“Ooh!”
Brand whirled, a gut-check reaction to Emma’s gasp, to see the older woman standing frozen over Amelia, a horrified expression on her face. Unwillingly, Brand allowed his gaze to slide to the bed, dreading what he would see.
It was all Brand could do to swallow the bile rising in his throat as he looked at the bruised and battered young woman who lay on the bed before him. Emma had removed her dress completely and lifted the hem of her cotton chemise up under her breasts, revealing only her mid-section. The ivory of Amelia’s stomach was checkered with scrapes and bruises of all sizes and in various stages of healing, her skin a gruesome patchwork. As much as he wanted to, Brand could not look away, unable to imagine the pain such injuries had inflicted on her.
“Emma, go get the Doc...and Dylan,” Brand said. The older woman paused briefly then turned and quietly exited the room. Brand once again rubbed a tired hand over his face. Lord, help me, he prayed. Brand knew if her abdomen was so bruised, surely the rest of her would be as well. Steeling himself, he gently took the hem of her petticoat, lifting it to the middle of her thigh. Grasping her stockings, he rolled the cloth to her ankles. Tears stung his eyes at the sight. The smooth skin was marred from her shin, up the exposed expanse of her leg, continuing beyond what he could see.
“Oh, darlin’.” Brand’s whispered words cracked with emotion as he knelt beside her on the floor. He pulled the linen sheet over her body up to her chin and reached for her hand. Clasping it between his own, he brought it to his lips.
“Brand.” Dylan stepped into the room, followed by Doc Childers and his wife. Brand looked up to see Dylan’s somber expression and stood, Amelia’s hand still clutched within his own.
“Harmon,” he asked.
“Sawyer is with him. He’s in a bad way, Brand.”
“You need to see what he’s done, Dylan. I feel bad about betraying Amelia’s privacy like this, but I don’t see there’s any other choice.” Brand nodded to Emma, who had positioned herself next to Amelia’s head on the other side of the narrow bed. Emma eased the sheet off Amelia, revealing the ugly results of Harmon’s brutality.
Dylan sucked air through his teeth at the sight, and Doc Childers moved to get a closer look at her injuries.
“Some of these marks are weeks old. I would say what happened tonight was a regular occurrence.” Doc Childers gingerly ran his fingertips across Amelia’s skin, looking closely. “There is scarring, some recent, some old…years old.” Doc stood upright, his professional demeanor slipping slightly when he quickly swiped a hand across his damp eyes. “There’s no telling what damage has been done on the inside…we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“How did we not know what was going on,” Brand asked of no one in particular, silently castigating himself for not understanding the clues, which now seemed so apparent.
“Because she didn’t want us to,” Doc said gruffly. He gestured to Emma, who pulled the sheet and blanket over Amelia.
“Seems to me the question is what do we do now,” Dylan asked, his dark eyes meeting Brand’s.
“Soon as she wakes up, I’m haulin’ her to the preacher, then I’m takin’ her home,” Brand stated.
“What are you saying, Brand,” Dylan exclaimed, his voice incredulous as he peered at his eldest brother with wide eyes until he could see from Brand’s expression that he was serious. “She may not agree to that,” Dylan countered, brows raised.
Brand met his younger brother’s gaze steadily, Amelia’s hand still clasped firmly within his own as she continued to sleep. Dylan sighed. Brand would do what he said, there would be no dissuading him. The Sheriff’s thoughts turned then to the brother.
“And what am I supposed to do with Harmon? I can hold him for a while for assaulting her, but only for a while. Then what?”
“You’re the Sheriff, Dylan!” Brand’s voice rose as he took a step toward his brother, his anger evident in his countenance.
“I know, Brand, but I can only do so much. I have your eye witness of what happened tonight, but there is no proof he is responsible for the rest of it.”
“You can’t be serious? Maybe you need another look at her!” Brand growled, his finger jabbing in the direction of the bed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his own brother.
“Listen, Brand. You and I know what happened, but I can’t leave the man in jail based on our assumptions, there has to be proof!”
Brand turned then, away from Dylan and Emma and the Doc. He didn’t know for sure what Amelia’s response would be to marrying him. But he did know he wouldn’t rest until it was his right to protect her every moment of the rest of her life. Brand closed his eyes and attempted to calm his breathing. He became aware of an ache in his jaw from clenching it so tightly and forced his muscles to relax. Even if Amelia agreed to marry him, and especially if she didn’t, Harmon could not remain in Carson’s Gulch.
“Then he needs to leave town and never come back.”
Dylan nodded in agreement. “As soon as he is able, I’ll escort him myself.”
Brand nodded. It would have to be enough. As much as he didn’t like it, Brand did understand Dylan’s position and knew if there were any other course of action, Dylan would see it done.
Dylan and the Doc exited then, leaving Brand alone with Emma and the still sleeping Amelia. Brand turned toward the single window in the room and stared out into the night, leaving Emma to finish dressing Amelia. Outside the night was quiet and peaceful while inside Brand felt anything but. Knowing he needed some perspective, Brand closed his eyes and offered a heartfelt prayer. He did not want to take advantage of Amelia in her hour of need by pressuring her to marry him, but he could not imagine any other outcome.
Brand considered his feelings, emotions that had been growing day by day. Unable to stop the rising attraction he harbored for her, Brand had relied on his knowledge of her questionable character to hold his emotions at bay. In recent months however, even that had changed as he regularly saw a softer side of Amelia McAlister. He knew after this night, after what he had witnessed, he would never be able to leave her.
“There. She should rest easier now,” Emma said. Brand turned back toward the bed as Emma bustled out of the room without another word, Amelia’s soiled garments tucked under her arm. Amelia lay in a clean nightgown, the blanket pulled up under her arms. Brand hooked his hand through the slats of a nearby chair, swinging it close to the bed and sat down. He was bone tired. It wouldn’t be long before morning. Brand took Amelia’s hand within his own once more, and with elbows resting on his knees he brought their clasped hands under his chin and closed his eyes.
Chapter 7
Amelia blinked. The room was dim, the only light coming from a single lamp in the room-but even that seemed bright to her eyes. Head pounding, she took in her surroundings, not recognizing where she was at first...then she saw him. How she hadn’t noticed him right away, she couldn’t say. He sat close to her side, his hand clutched around hers, asleep where he sat. She longed to reach out and brush the dark tousled locks from his forehead, but she couldn’t move. Her body ached! She remembered then. Harmon…and Brand.
Brand. What must he think of her now-allowing her brother to treat her the way he had tonight? He must think her so weak, so low.
Her eyes swiftly filled with tears, a sob caught in her throat as her gaze devoured Brand’s face unchecked. Oh, how she loved him, had loved him for years, dreamt of belonging to only him. As tears rolled over her temples and into her hair, she figured the ache in her heart was much
worse than that of her bruised body-and would take much longer to heal.
Suddenly, Brand’s eyes opened. He looked startled, confused for a moment as he gazed at her. His expression quickly turned to concern as awareness seeped into his consciousness. Still holding her hand within one of his, he reached out to capture a tear on his fingertip as it fell from the corner of her eye.
“How are you feelin’?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat self-consciously.
“Like I just got kicked by a horse,” she responded, immediately regretting her frankness as Brand’s eyes filled with renewed anger. She tugged her hand from his grasp and reached out to place her palm along his strong jaw. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry so.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she turned her head away from him, her hand dropping to the coverlet. “It isn’t anything I haven’t been through before,” her voice trailed to a whisper.
Her words burned like a branding iron and hot rage surged through his veins like lava. It was more than a little tempting to leave the room in search of Harmon and finish the job he had started in the alley. Taking a deep breath, he instead opted for indulging in a different impulse. Slowly, deliberately, Brand dropped to his knees on the floor and took her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs. The blue eyes that met his were filled with hopelessness and resignation. Releasing his hold on her face, Brand slipped one arm gingerly under her shoulders while wrapping the other around her waist. Without hesitation, Amelia buried her face in his neck, her arms reaching out of their own accord to grip his sides. Tightening his embrace, Brand held her close before pulling back and searching her cornflower eyes.
Loved from Afar Page 4
