Her legs weakened. “We? You don’t have to stay. You owe me nothing.” Her words sounded slurred to her own ears. The weakness invaded every part, swarming through her like angry bees, making her dizzy and blurring her surroundings.
“Robbie? Is something wrong?” He stepped closer, touching her arm.
His face swam in her vision before all went black.
Chapter Five
Robbie awoke to Taron cradling her in his arms, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You fainted,” he said.
She grimaced. That was obvious. She struggled to sit, to remove herself from him.
“Shh ...” he said, as if calming a child.
“I’m fine, Mr. Babbitt.” She tried to make her voice firm but it came out weak, not rebuking as she’d intended. Her muscles were almost useless, especially held as she was against him. She stilled, relaxed, and reveled in the safety of his arms. But that thought was ridiculous — she was probably the very opposite of safe.
She didn’t know this man, this stranger, who probably planned to ... to rob her. Did he know about the money at the bottom of Papa’s trunk?
The thought spurred her to action. She struggled against him. “Please, Mr. Babbitt. Let me up.”
This time he helped her to sit, supporting her with a hand on her back. She wanted to move away but was too weak. She rested in the position for a moment, leaning against his legs, gaining strength. She breathed deep steadying breaths before she tried to speak again.
This time her voice was stronger. “Will you help me up, please?”
He helped her to her feet, and she swayed unsteadily and instantly his hand was on her elbow, gripping her, strengthening her. He helped her to the log and then moved away to poke at the fire, letting it flame up, but his gaze came back again and again to rest on her.
She put her hands out to the warmth of the fire, desperately trying to ignore him. “Mr. Babbitt, will you take me to Feeble Creek? I will pay you for your troubles.”
He threw a sideways glance that was inscrutable. “Sorry. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The snow is still too deep to travel.”
It took a moment for her to fully comprehend his words. “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped.
He was by her side in an instant. “Do you feel faint again?”
She waved a hand. “No, no. I’m fine.” She contemplated the fire for a second, watching the logs shift and fall. “The snow is too deep for the wagon, but I could ride a horse and come back later for the rest.”
He grimaced. “Only if you don’t care about your possessions. Not sure if they’d be here when you came back.”
“What would happen to them?”
“There are varmints and critters that would come around when you leave. And even Indians might happen by.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “They’re only things and can be replaced.”
His lips thinned but he only returned her look with placid eyes, not speaking.
She’d pack a bag, and get her father’s money, the pistol, and maybe something to remember her parents by — she already had their rings. If the rest was stolen, it was something she’d have to accept.
But did she want to go alone, into a strange town, not knowing a soul, with no way to earn her keep? She had Papa’s money, but how long would it last?
She’d do what she had to do, but it would help to have someone she knew, even if he was a stranger. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Babbitt, would you at least ride with me to Feeble Creek?”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “It’s a long ride for my horse.”
She gaped for a moment. Surely he was not refusing to help her. “If you’ll go with me part way, set me in the right direction ...”
“I’m sorry. It’s impossible.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
He sighed and stirred the fire again. “I am not going to help you get to Feeble Creek. Believe me, you don’t want to go there. But I have an alternative.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have a cabin. You can stay there until the next wagon train comes through.”
“Stay there alone?”
“No, with me.”
“What you are proposing is ... is scandalous.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Do you have another alternative?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’ll go to Feeble Creek.”
His lips twitched, and he nodded. “If that’s what you want ...”
“Or I’ll stay here. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“With the varmints I mentioned ...”
“They haven’t bothered me yet.”
“There are Navajo nearby.”
She squared her shoulders. “They haven’t bothered me yet,” she repeated. But her words were hollow. Did she really want to stay here alone? Or ride to Feeble Creek alone? Both prospects were daunting, but she could do it. She needed to decide which one would be safer.
Taron got up and moved away.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’ll check your horses while I’m here.” He continued out of sight.
Her heart thumped in her chest. Could she really stay here alone? No, it made her too nervous.
But the horses had broad backs for pulling wagons and were not for riding. Why hadn’t Papa brought along a saddle horse? But would that have mattered? She’d never ridden a horse in her life! She’d always been too busy with her studies. Resentment of her father flooded through her, but she was immediately ashamed. He didn’t know she needed to learn to ride — how could he? She should have insisted on learning other skills besides practicing medicine.
But as soon as it dried up a bit, she’d hitch the horses to the wagon and leave. She’d head to Feeble Creek. Surely she could find it. But that meant staying here for a while longer. Alone.
She shivered and moved closer to the fire. Losing her mother and father had taken a toll on her. She felt exhausted, and cobwebs filled her head. It was so difficult to form a coherent thought when all she wanted to do was rest.
Taron returned. “Robbie, I’m going to head out now. Do you need anything before I go?”
Her bottom lip quivered and a stray tear ran down her cheek. “You can’t stay a little longer?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want, but I have to ask you ...”
“What?”
“What’s the difference if we’re alone here or alone in a nice, snug cabin?”
And she could not answer his question. She sighed heavily. “None, I guess.”
“I’m ready when you are.” He pulled her to her feet.
“But all my things ...”
“Pack what you need. I’ll come back for the rest tomorrow.”
He helped her find her carpetbag and discreetly left her alone while she packed. She found the money and hid it among her things, knowing it was not really hidden. Taron could take the bag from her any time.
He mounted and pulled her on the pinto behind him. She tentatively encircled his waist with her arms, but tightened her grip as they both rode the pinto across the river and up the side of the mountain to the cabin.
When Robbie entered the one-room cabin with a double bed, she clutched the carpetbag like a lifeline. She tried to avoid looking at the bed, but it was like a magnet, drawing her attention. Her breath came in tiny gasps until she realized it and forced herself to breathe normally.
“You take the bed,” Taron said.
He then became the magnet for her eyes as he moved around the small cabin, making a pallet for his bed. And he too watched her.
She slept fully clothed, or rather, didn’t sleep. And she could tell by his stillness, by his breathing, Taron did not sleep either. All she wanted was rest, but it eluded her, or only came in snatches, mainly when Taron left the cabin.
And three days passed.
The third nig
ht he told her it wasn’t working. They’d finished eating supper of rabbit stew, and he’d pushed his plate back, his eyes bloodshot. “Robbie, I made a mistake. We need to leave — I’ll take you to Feeble Creek or ...”
She remained sitting very still, hearing her heart pounding in her ears, her very skin tingling as he spoke. “Or what?”
“Or you can become my wife.”
She was confused for a moment. They barely knew each other, but his steady look convinced her of his words. She rubbed her palms on her dress before she spoke. “Is there a preacher nearby who can marry us?”
“Maybe ...” He watched her, his eyes darkening.
She couldn’t hold his intense look. Her gaze dropped to her entwined fingers. She pressed her lips together. He said he’d take her to Feeble Creek, and that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? But who would be there for her? She knew no one.
And here was a man who wanted her. They barely knew each other, but he wanted her. Her breathing deepened. And she wanted him. She’d stay, if he’d find a preacher and make it right. She didn’t look up but nodded.
“Can you manage if I leave you here alone?” he asked. “I won’t be gone long.”
“I can manage.”
And then a few minutes later, he’d strapped on his gun and was gone.
Darkness was gathering as he rode down the mountain.
Chapter Six
Robbie tossed and turned for hours, finally falling asleep but awakening while it was still dark. Maybe Taron had come back and didn’t awaken her. She lit the lantern but found no sign of his return. A small niggling of fear of abandonment began inside her.
If something happened to him, if he couldn’t, wouldn’t, return, what then? She’d walk down the mountain, leading the horses, hitch them to the wagon, and drive to Feeble Creek, as soon as the trail was passable. Until then, she’d stay here, where she felt safe.
But she wouldn’t have to. She was letting her imagination run wild. He’d said he’d return with the preacher, and he would.
The embers still glowed in the wood stove, and she added more wood and stoked the fire. Though still dark, she’d bathed and washed her hair. Luckily, she had brought her best dress, a light blue that brought out the color of her eyes. She pulled a chair to the wood stove and brushed her hair.
When she finished, she went to the porch and peered into the grayness. Only now was it finally light enough to distinguish shapes. Her eyesight was perfect, and it wasn’t long before she noticed movement. Men on horseback judging from the cloud of dust that followed in their wake.
If it was Taron, he was bringing someone with him, the preacher as he had promised. She hurried into the cabin to re-brush her hair and to pull it back into a bun. She looked around to make sure the cabin was tidy. The rings! Her parents’ rings were in her carpetbag. She dug them out and put them in a cup on the shelf. Maybe Papa’s ring would fit Taron.
She finished and looked around to make sure everything was in order when there was a rap on the door. Taron opened it and stepped inside. He entered alone.
She cleared her throat, twisting her fingers nervously. “Did you bring someone with you?”
“Yes and a couple of more people, too. They’re seeing to the horses.”
Robbie smoothed back her hair, readjusting one of the pins. “Do I look presentable?”
He nodded. “You look perfect. I’ll go bring them in if you’re ready.”
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
He slipped out the door. She built up the fire in the wood stove again and got the coffee perking. The door opened and Taron ushered in two ladies and a gentleman.
“Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Monroe, Brother James, this is Miss Roberta Rutherford.”
“How do you do?” Robbie said automatically.
Taron smiled at her. “Brother James is a preacher. He’s here to perform the ceremony.”
The balding man with a paunch cleared his throat, peering closely at Robbie, as if satisfying himself she’d do for a wife. “This will be the official wedding, sanctioned by the church, and properly witnessed.” Brother James had a deep bass voice that filled the cabin.
Robbie moistened her lips. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I’ll perform the ceremony first and then we can partake of refreshment.” He took charge. “Mr. Babbitt and Miss Rutherford, if you’ll stand here, the ladies to the side. My Bible is somewhere ...”
“Here it is, Father,” Miss Elizabeth said. She looked like a competent, no-nonsense young lady, in her early twenties, with jet-black hair, braided and hanging straight down her back.
“Thank you, dear. You’re always such a comfort to your absent-minded old father.” He patted her hand as he took the Bible.
He wasted no time and opened his Bible. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Taron Babbitt and Roberta Rutherford in holy matrimony. Taron, repeat after me: I, Taron, take thee Roberta to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, ’til death do us part.”
Taron did so, looking deeply into Robbie’s eyes.
The preacher turned to Robbie. “Now Miss Rutherford, repeat after me:
I, Roberta, take thee Taron to be my wedded husband, to have and
to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness
and in health, to love, honor, and obey, ’til death do us part.”
Robbie pressed her lips together, looked down at her hands, and then raised her head. She said, “I Roberta take thee Taron to be my wedded husband, to have and
to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness
and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, ’til death do us part.”
Brother James shook his head. “No, no. You left out obey.”
Taron spoke before she had a chance. “It’s fine. She said it perfectly.” And he gave her an encouraging smile.
“The rings?” Brother James asked.
Taron looked apologetically at the preacher. “I’m sorry —”
“Wait!” Robbie said. “I kept my mother and father’s rings. Miss Elizabeth, they’re in that cup on the shelf.”
Miss Elizabeth retrieved the rings and handed Taron the smaller of the two plain gold bands and Robbie took the other one.
She held out a trembling hand for Taron, and he slid the ring into place. It fit perfectly. Then it was Taron’s turn to receive his ring. It was a tight fit but that way he’d be less likely to lose it.
Rings in place, they joined both hands and faced the preacher.
Brother James beamed. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Robbie blushed. Taron gathered her to him and his warm mouth found hers. Miss Elizabeth and Mrs. Monroe both gave small claps. Taron pulled away, and they accepted congratulations as Mrs. Monroe wiped away a tear.
After coffee, Brother James and the ladies did not tarry long. They rode away, and Taron left with them to see them off.
When he returned, he took her in his arms, their bodies made for each other, fitting perfectly, becoming one.
Chapter Seven
And for days that turned to weeks, Robbie and Taron barely left their marriage bed, eating beef jerky or pemmican to survive, and sleeping in each other’s arms when exhaustion overtook them, the days flowing into the nights.
Living with him was a wild, beautiful dream, one that would end if they traveled down the mountain to live among others. Respectable folks didn’t stay in bed all day. But she wasn’t respectable here in the mountains.
She closed her eyes, snuggling under the quilt, but the sun’s bright rays streamed through the window and the smell of pork cooking was making her hungry. She pushed back the covers.
Taron fried salted pork in an iron skillet on the small wood stove. “Good morning, Sunshine.�
�
She stretched and yawned and finally made her way to him, and he kissed her forehead.
He turned back to the stove. “How are you feeling today?”
“Starving.” She crept under his arm and yawned into his shoulder, perfect contentment flowing in her, around her, and from her, as he hugged her tight.
He released her. “The pork is burning!”
“Breakfast is ready!” Their laughter filled the cabin.
Robbie and Taron plied their plates with food. Robbie sat down at the table and placed her hands in her lap, entwining her fingers, growing serious. She needed to talk to Taron. As contented as she was, life couldn’t go on like this. “What are your plans?” she asked when he settled in the chair across from her.
“The same as yesterday.” He winked at her.
“And you know that’s a problem.”
He grinned. “Not for me.”
“Taron, we can’t stay here forever. We’ll run out of provisions eventually.”
“I’m well aware of that, but we have plenty of time.” He reached for the plate of biscuits — with no milk cow, he’d made water biscuits. Along with the salted pork and the scrambled eggs, it made a wonderful meal.
“Winter’s coming. We can’t stay here forever.”
“Worry doesn’t help. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Food had an appeal like never before for Robbie. She prayed a silent blessing before speaking again. “Why wait until we run out of food? Why can’t we leave the mountain?”
They had entered into an unusual warm spell and the snow had melted. It wouldn’t last long. If they planned to leave, they needed to go now before the full force of winter set in.
“We have plenty of food.” He paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. “And game is plentiful.”
It was true Taron had hauled the provisions from the wagon up the mountainside, and she’d arranged them on the wooden shelves. And there was game about, enough to keep them from starving. Would that be enough to carry them through a long winter?
Robbie and Taron Page 3
