“Where was your husband?” His tone was gentle, yet relentless.
“Not home.” She steeled her jaw. If he pushed farther, she’d not answer his questions.
“Did your wound look similar to mine?” He shifted, trying to see down his leg.
“Somewhat. Yours is swelling more than mine did. The blackening of the skin is similar.” She pressed his shoulder. “Lie still.”
He was silent finally. Yet the quiet made her want to fill it. What did he think about what she’d shared? He was hearing more about their life beneath the words than she’d spoken, she was almost certain. Especially from the questions he asked.
Did he judge her? Judge Richard? He didn’t know the details, so his thoughts could only be speculation. And he wouldn’t know the details. More than this she wasn’t ready to share. Wouldn’t share.
She needed to create some distance between them, both physical and emotional. Reaching for the cup, she started to push up to her feet.
“Rachel.” He touched her arm, stilling her.
She couldn’t draw in a breath, but it had to be from his nearness, for no memories sprang through her. Nothing that made her want to quiver in fear.
“Yes?” She forced out the word. Then pulled in air through her tight lungs.
“I’m sorry for all you suffered.”
She shouldn’t look at him, but her wayward eyes refused to obey. Her gaze searched his face, finding a depth of feeling that seemed to sear through the middle of her. Flaying her wide.
He could have meant he was sorry for the bite from the venomous snake. But he meant more. It was all there in his eyes.
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to crawl into the safety he offered. But she couldn’t let herself be so vulnerable. Not with anyone, especially not with a man.
Dropping her gaze from his face made it easier to stand. To turn.
To walk away.
Chapter Sixteen
I can handle everything. This shouldn’t be too much.
~ Rachel
The snakebite was a frustration all the way around, except for the peek Seth was given into Rachel’s life. But after those few minutes of openness, she’d closed up again like a turtle retreating into its shell.
And if she was anything like a turtle, she wouldn’t be pried back out. He’d have to wait until she was ready to come of her own accord.
Samuel was the one who worried him most in the group. He spent most of the afternoon pacing with his rifle beside the cliff wall like a sentry, then checking the horses and asking Rachel whether there was anything else they should be doing for Seth’s leg.
She answered with a surprising amount of patience each time. In truth, Seth had never seen his brother so worked up. At least, not as a grown man.
When darkness came and Samuel still wandered around, not even stopping to eat a bite with Rachel and Andy, Seth motioned him over.
Samuel’s stride turned purposeful as he moved toward him. “What is it? What do you need?” So much tension radiated through his voice, but Samuel hid it with such a gruff tone, some might be afraid of him.
Seth patted the ground beside him, the place where Rachel had knelt when she'd told him about her husband. “Sit and keep me company.”
The shadows didn’t hide his brother’s reluctance, but he sat. Seth could hear Rachel murmuring to her son, something about checking the horses. Giving him a private moment with his brother, no doubt. She’s perfect for me, Lord.
But just now, he needed to keep himself focused. He and Samuel had never minced words between them, so Seth didn’t bother to do it now. “You think I’m dying?”
Silence hung thick in the air for a long moment before Samuel answered. “Are you?”
“No. The leg doesn’t hurt half as much now as it did earlier. I’d say that means I’m over the worst of it. Between God’s healing and Rachel’s care, I’m a blessed man. We’ll have to check with my nurse, but I imagine I’ll be ready to ride again come morning.”
He felt Samuel’s exhale more than he heard it. The tension lacing the air eased away, and Seth couldn’t help the affectionate tug in his chest for his brother. If anything like this happened to Samuel, he’d be a bundle of distraught nerves, too. Much worse, in fact.
“I’ll talk to Rachel about whether we wait another day or not.” Samuel sounded much more like himself.
“Fine, but I doubt I can make myself lie here past tomorrow morning. If we’re not riding, I’ll at least be up and moving around.”
“You give that lady trouble, and you’ll answer to me.” Samuel’s voice was teasing, but the words rubbed the raw edges of the annoying pain Seth had fought all afternoon.
“I won’t give her trouble, you louse.”
His brother chuckled as he stood. “You sure won’t.”
RACHEL WORRIED ABOUT Seth spending the next day in the saddle, but he seemed so much recovered, she couldn’t justify waiting an extra day to continue their journey. However, if they came upon any mountains like the one yesterday morning, she’d put a firm halt to their travel until he was stronger.
Samuel seemed to have a new regard for her, or maybe that was her imagination. He’d always been respectful—more so than most men. But he appeared to listen more closely now when she made an observation or offered her opinion. The same way he did with his brother.
They camped early that night, mostly because she and Samuel were both worried about Seth. For his part, Seth didn’t mention his leg unless asked. The blackened skin around the wound must have been painful, and by the time she inspected the area after they made camp, the swelling had increased much from when she'd checked it that morning.
“I’ll be good as new by the morning.” Seth adjusted his trouser leg after she applied a new poultice.
“I hope so, but for now, sit with your leg flat so this mixture can take effect.” She poured water from the cup over her hands to rinse them, then stood and brushed out her skirt. “I’ll work on our meal now.”
“Bring the pack over here and I’ll take care of it.” He motioned toward the satchel containing the food and pan she usually used.
She hesitated. He really needed to rest to bring the swelling down. She’d learned with Richard that when she wanted him to do something, she’d get the best response if she made herself as genial as she could be. She forced an expression that should pass for a smile. “I won’t have anything to do if I don’t cook.” In truth, she had washing and mending to do, and Andy’s hair begged for a trimming.
“Sit with me. I may even let you help.” He patted the ground beside him, and the tug at the corners of his mouth started a longing deep in her chest.
Maybe if she worked with him, she could assign easy tasks that would keep him still. “Only if you’ll make certain you don’t move your leg.”
“I’ll be the best patient you’ve ever had.” His mouth pulled into a cheeky grin, which pulled a matching smile from her. She turned away before he could see the effect he had on her.
When she’d positioned the supplies and herself beside him, she reached to untie the leather strap. “I was thinking we’d finish the last of the bear meat, maybe in a stew of beans.”
“An excellent idea.” He covered her hand with his to still her movement, then worked the satchel free. “I’d very much like to do the part I can, although I’ll need your help to fill the pot with water for the beans.”
He accompanied the words with a wink, and the gesture raised such a flurry in her midsection, she didn’t have the nerve to do more than take the dish he offered her.
After filling it with water from the creek, she positioned it near enough the flames so the liquid could come to a boil.
“Wanna check for stones in the beans while I cut the meat?” The sharp blade of his knife glimmered with light reflecting off the flickering flames.
She didn’t look at Seth as she settled beside him again and took up the cloth bag he handed her. He hummed a light tune while he worked, and the
sound eased her nerves as she scooped a handful of beans and sorted them in her skirts, picking out two stones from the bunch.
“So, your home in Missouri," he said, "was it in town? On a farm? You mentioned a garden, but I suppose that could be either.” His tone was so casual, he might have been asking if she preferred rain or sunshine.
There was nothing dangerous in his question. Nothing that should concern her. Nothing save the memories those days resurrected. But she had to stop letting those memories hold power over her. The life she’d lived with Richard was in the past. She’d endured, and she was stronger now for coming through them.
She squared her shoulders and forced her tone to sound as casual as his. “Our farm was about an hour’s ride from a little town near the river.”
“A farm, eh. What did you grow?” He cut chunks off the slab of meat she’d roasted the morning after the bear roared into their camp. If only she’d known then how much would change when they chose to join with these men.
She forced her mind back to those days. “We raised produce to sell at market. The riverboats would dock outside town and buy our vegetables.”
He nodded. “Sounds like a good living. We raised corn and cotton down on my pa’s farm. I think sometimes that’s why they had so many young’uns, to always have help in the fields.” He chuckled.
She listened for a hint of bitterness in the laugh but couldn’t find any. “I’d forgotten there were so many of you. Nine, you said? Where do you and Samuel fall in the order?”
“Second from last.” The word came out on a weighty sigh.
She dared a glance at his face, and the way his nose wrinkled caught her unawares. She tried to stop the smile that pulled at her cheeks, but it wouldn’t be denied.
“That funny, is it?” He gave her a sideways look that only made the grin harder to hold in.
“I can’t imagine it’s as awful as you make it sound.”
His eyes narrowed. “You must surely be the firstborn.”
She raised her chin. “I am. Four years older than my brother, Henry. The one we’re traveling to find.”
His gaze searched her face. “That does explain a lot.”
She turned her gaze back to the beans. “Like what?”
“Like why you’re so driven. You don’t let anything stop you from what you set out to do.”
“That has nothing to do with my childhood.” She’d become this way out of necessity, when Richard chose cards and drink over their family. When he’d slowly gambled away their lives, piece by piece.
“Maybe your growing up years aren’t the only reason.” He reached toward her and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
She froze, her lungs unable to breathe with the fire of his touch.
“But I think that played a part. I’m sure much has happened to develop the strong woman I’m privileged to know.”
His words sank over her like warm water over frozen hands. Their balm was a blessed relief, yet as her insides awakened, the ache was almost too much to bear. So much had happened. Things he’d never know, things she somehow wanted to tell him. Wanted to drown in the safety of his touch, his tenderness. The way he seemed to know her, even without her revealing herself.
And the most wondrous part of all—he didn’t shun her for the way her past had changed her. He didn't shun the person she’d been forced to become.
The sting of tears struck before she realized they were coming. She forced air in and out, turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the redness. She wrinkled her nose. Anything to stop them.
She didn’t cry. Couldn’t. Through everything, she’d not cried.
Now, before this man, she would not break down. Locking her jaw, she returned her focus to the beans. A rock sat among the bunch in her hand, and she grabbed it up and threw it in the fire, imagining the weakness and tears burning with it among the flames.
“Rachel.” Seth’s voice hummed low, calling to her. Drawing her back from the fierceness of her determination.
“Yes?” Her throat was both dry and clogged with emotion. Just one example of the way this man tied her in knots.
“Tell me about your father. What was he like?”
The words plunged a knife into her chest, slicing through her with a sweet agony that brought another surge of tears to burn her eyes.
She didn’t have to answer his question. Didn’t owe Seth any more details of her past.
But that didn’t stop the words from spilling out. “He was wonderful. He taught me games and played make-believe. When he came home from trips for business, he always brought me a trinket or sweet. One time it was a doll he said had once been a little girl like me. Her greatest wish was to have a special friend, so her fairy godmother turned her into my Molly and sent her to live with me.”
She swallowed to push down the lump in her throat. “After Molly came, Papa’s trips took him away more and more. For longer each time. My mother never liked Molly, and I thought it was just because she believed Papa giving me the doll proved he loved me best. I hated how it always felt like we were vying for his love.”
The emotion clogging her throat seemed to grow, closing off her breathing. She inhaled a long draught of air, willing her body to relax. Was she really going to tell the next part? There was no reason she should. Except a part of her wanted him to know. Wanted to share the weight of this burden that still threatened to smother at times.
With her gaze locked in the flames, she let her mind call back the memories. “One time he left for weeks. I don’t remember how long exactly. I only know this horrible feeling took over our home. Mother didn’t get out of bed some days. I had Henry to take care of, and I made sure he ate and got to school on time. I remember keeping Molly with me wherever I went in the house, even though I was too old to play with dolls by then. Molly was my one reminder of happiness.”
Her mouth ceased moving of its own accord, trying to save her from the pain that would come next. She’d journeyed this far, though. She had to finish.
Yet as she tried to recall the start of that awful day, the memory wouldn’t come. Seemed her mind had blocked it. That couldn’t be true, for she saw those awful moments in vivid detail, heard the gunshot every time a loud noise reverberated near her. Why couldn’t she find the beginning?
Seth’s warm hand slipped over hers, prying open her clenched fist, weaving his fingers between hers as though they belonged there. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and the warm caress eased the tension clawing through her.
An image of that awful day slid into her mind. From a distance, like she was seeing her younger self through a window. “I accidentally left Molly in Mother’s room one morning when I brought her food. I’d already sent Henry to school, and maybe I left the doll there because I wanted a chance to see Mother again. To know that she was eating. That she’d get better. But I had to go back for Molly, too. I would never leave her alone with Mother. I think part of me worried Mother would hurt my doll.”
The picture in her mind dimmed a little, like soot smudged the window she peered through. “When I opened Mother’s door, she was out of bed. The first thing I thought was how wonderful it was that she’d changed from her dressing gown into her yellow calico day dress.” She forced in air to slow the rapid thud in her chest. “I never saw the gun. Only heard the blast. Saw the smoke cloud around her hand. Then the blood.
“At first I couldn’t move. My mind wouldn’t register what had happened. I must have screamed, but I don’t remember. I don’t remember any sound after that gunshot. I ran for her. There was so much blood, I didn’t know what to do. She’d shot herself in the shoulder. I guess aiming for her heart, but she must have shifted. I remember seeing my mother’s face, her mouth wide like she was screaming, but I couldn’t hear her.
“Her eyes...” She pressed her own lids shut against the image, but the gaze only seared deeper. “Looking into them was like drowning in a sea of desperation. I’d never imagined s
uch sadness could exist. And in that moment, I realized I might lose her. I realized she wanted to leave me.”
A flash of understanding slipped through Rachel, the kind that could only come with distance from the situation. She turned to meet Seth’s eyes. “Maybe she didn’t actually mean to leave me. She was desperate to escape the suffering in her life. But I took it personally. I truly believed I was the misery she wanted to flee.”
He met her gaze, and the warmth there slid over her. Filled her with strength to continue. She turned back to the fire to gather her thoughts. “Anyway. I saw how weak she was. And even as I pressed a wad of cloth to the blood spurting from her shoulder, I promised myself I’d be strong.”
The memory of that vow slipped through her, infusing her determination. She would never be like her mother. Never let herself be brought so low by the actions of another person.
“Did she make it?” Seth’s gentle voice pulled her from the swirl of her thoughts.
She inhaled a stabilizing breath. “A neighbor came and sent for the doctor. Mother lived.”
Those months after were only a haze in her memories. People came and went in such a blur. She only remembered working so hard to separate herself from the chaos. To suppress the pain of losing her mother—not physically, but every tiny thread of connection had been severed that day.
“What of your father?” Again Seth’s voice pulled her back, kept her from being sucked into the mire of her memories.
“He came home sometime during the days after. I don’t know if he was already sick or if it started to come on him then. As Mother started to get up from the bed, Father spent more time there. It wasn’t until I saw his handkerchiefs stained with blood that I realized something was wrong.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat, forced back the burn in her eyes. “He was gone before Christmas.”
Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Seth stroked his thumb across her hand. His touch eased the tension in her limbs, pulling her back to the present little by little.
This Homeward Journey Page 12
