by Tara Johnson
Cassie kept her voice carefully modulated. “I’m so glad, Eliza.” She offered no snide remarks, only silence. Gabe’s estimation of her rose even higher, if that were possible. This time when he squeezed her hand, she responded in kind.
Eliza’s mouth pinched. “Still mousy, aren’t you? Never would say much, even as a child. That is, unless Father riled you, and then you mouthed plenty.”
Gabe felt Cassie’s muscles tighten. He patted her hand and shook his head ever so slightly. “Far from mousy, Mrs. Murphy. Still waters run deep, and all that. My Cassie is the single most clever, self-sacrificing, and kind woman I have ever known.” He took a moment to gaze at her. “Beautiful, too.”
Her cheeks dusted pink, and he winked at her grandmother. “Second only to Granny Ardie, of course.”
Ardie beamed. “See why I like him so, Eliza? The man has sense. Good eyesight too.” Cackling, she rose with a soft cracking of joints. “Would you care to dine with us, Liza? I’ve got a bully salmon smoked and hanging out back.”
Eliza stood. “Thank you, no. I was just stopping in to check on my favorite grandmother.” She turned to Gabe and Cassie. “Mr. Avery, so nice to meet you. And, Sister—” she leaned forward to brush Cassie’s cheek with a peck—“don’t forget about us here in Michigan when your husband is famous.” She very nearly sneered. “If you can see fit to lower yourself to our humble level, that is.”
With a flurry of skirts, she hastened from the cabin, no doubt intending to spread the gossip far and wide.
Gabe bolted the door behind her and scowled. “Vexing woman.” He gestured toward Ardie with an apologetic cringe. “Forgive me.”
Ardie waved a hand. “Eliza has always been that way. High-strung. Always jealous of Cassie.” Granny spoke to her with a twinkle. “Don’t let her poison rankle you. She’s unhappy.”
“I know. But it does hurt. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t. She did give you a kiss, after all.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Yes, as Judas gave Jesus.”
Despite the pall left behind by Eliza’s sourness, Gabe chuckled.
Chapter 21
CASSIE SQUIRMED AGAINST THE SOFT BED, unable to settle her mind. Every time she neared slumber’s waiting arms, the memory of Eliza’s visit scattered her sleepiness away like a cyclone.
When she was little, Eliza had tolerated her. But as they’d grown older, the tolerance had turned to venom, and Cassie was helpless to know why.
Rolling to her side, she tucked the pillow under the crook of her elbow and stared out the window. A high moon shone down, bathing the cabin and woods in bright silver. Light chased away sinister shadows.
Just like Gabe defending her against her bitter sister.
Her chest tightened, her eyelids fell shut, and she remembered his warm fingers cupping hers. His praise of her abilities. Her beauty. The tangible affection that shone when he’d studied her. Heady sensations covered her like the warmth of a July sun.
But none of it was genuine. Her eyes flew open and the flicker in her chest dissipated, replaced with an empty ache.
Angry with herself for caring, she tossed to her opposite side and yanked at the covers tangled around her legs. He was dissembling. She had been too. That was the plan, after all. Act the part of the happy bride and groom if Cassie were discovered by her family.
So why did the realization sting so?
Heaving a sigh, she stood and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. She needed the necessary. Perhaps then she could sleep.
She tiptoed down the hallway and into the kitchen, not bothering to light a lamp. She knew the path by heart.
Slipping to the row of pegs by the kitchen door, she draped a thick shawl over her shoulders and crept into the frigid night air. She clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering as she picked her way carefully toward the outhouse. Thanks to the bright moon, the task was easy.
She’d just stepped out of the necessary and released the handle of the door when her heart slammed into her throat.
“Lo and behold, if it isn’t my prodigal daughter.”
That deep, slurred voice had haunted her every moment since fleeing almost seven months before. The blood leached from her face. She turned slowly, her breath erratic. She saw nothing save for a moonlit yard, the dark, looming presence of the cabin, and faceless trees lifting up their fingers to the night sky. “Wh-where are you?”
A large shadow stepped away from the back of the cabin and moved to stand in front of her. The watery light illuminated half of her father’s scowling face. A beard covered his jaw. Even in the moon glow, his eyes were red-rimmed and dull, save for the flickering rage lurking in their depths.
He swayed slightly on his feet as he approached. “I can’t believe you have the gall to show your face here again.” The sour stench of his rancid breath assaulted her. Cringing, she took a step back. “You’re a disgrace. A failure the moment you were born, and you’ve been a failure ever since.”
The barb stung, though she knew he’d thought it often enough. He’d just never given the hateful words voice until now. The lash of his censure was quickly smothered by a fiery anger that sparked in her chest. “You’re drunk.”
He lumbered forward. “I have reason to be. You shamed me in front of Erastus. Humiliated me before my friends.” He sneered. “Your betrayal killed your mother.”
Her heartbeat skidded to a slow, dull thrum in her head. He was drunk . . . just babbling and blathering. Wasn’t he?
She turned to leave, and his meaty hand curled around her arm and spun her around, yanking her to him like a rag doll. She fell against his barrel chest with a grunt of pain.
“You wretched creature!” He shook her until her teeth rattled. “You defied me and broke your mother’s heart.”
“No!” she whimpered against the pain of his crushing grip, but he held fast.
He was so close she could see the streaks of crimson in his eyes. His face was mottled. The veins in his neck bulged.
“What do you think happened when you ran away in your spite? Your mother went looking for you, despite rain and storms. Trudged all over kingdom come, searching, crying, praying she could find you.”
Her stomach clenched as her throat and eyes burned. No, God. Please, no.
Shaking her until her head screamed in anguish, he shouted, “It was because of you she got sick. It’s your fault. It’s all your fault!”
She tried to lurch away, fumbling to free her arm. In his drunken state, he lost his grip on her flailing limb, but the escape was only temporary. Before she could flee, he backhanded her across the mouth. Pain exploded through her skull as the impact flung her to the ground. She landed on the freezing earth and groaned against the agony slicing from her hip to her head. A sob shuddered through her.
His menacing presence loomed large. She tucked her head into her hands and curled her aching legs to her middle. She knew what would happen next.
Lord, deliver me.
“If you lay another hand on her, I’ll thrash you senseless.”
Her chest heaved as Gabe’s voice cut through the night air with all the force of a runaway horse.
Over her head, Father snapped, “Go away, boy.”
“I only warn once.”
Father broke into a string of slurred curses. “Maybe you need to be taught a lesson too.”
The sound of flesh pounding flesh met her ears. She cringed and tried to pull herself to her feet, but as soon as she placed weight on her left ankle, it collapsed beneath her in a burning flash of pain. With a cry she fell back.
More grunts, another punch, and she blinked, watching her father’s massive silhouette crumple to the ground.
In seconds, Gabe’s handsome face hovered above hers, his breathing rapid. At the sight of his tender expression, she burst into tears.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the cabin, settling her in a kitchen chair as if she weighed little more than a kitten. A ma
tch sizzled and flared to life. He held it to the lamp’s wick, and soon a bright light beamed from the glass globe, chasing away the darkness. He brought it to the table, where she sat, her arms wrapped around her middle. Her ankle throbbed. She licked her lips against the stinging sensation at their corner and tasted the metallic stickiness of blood.
He said nothing, only moved to pour water into the basin and fetch a clean rag. Carrying it to the table, he set it down and pulled up a chair for himself, settling across from her not more than three feet away. A trembling from somewhere deep inside rattled her ribs and extended to her limbs.
“Cass, look at me.”
His soft voice brooked no argument. She lifted her gaze and nearly wept all over again at his tenderness.
He brushed a wayward tendril of hair from her forehead and smoothed it back as if she were a scared child. “You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you any longer.”
Her chin trembled. She nodded as hot tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. She dropped her head and he took her in his arms, rocking her gently, murmuring words of comfort into her hair. The tremors eased and a sliver of warmth unfurled through her.
She eased back with a sniff, embarrassed at her lack of control. “Forgive me.”
“You did nothing wrong. Here.” He lifted her chin and gazed at her lips with an assessing eye. “The corner of your mouth is bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
Ignoring her, he dipped the cloth in the water, wrung out the excess, and dabbed the torn skin with a gentleness that melted her heart. He would be a good father—and make some woman a good husband. Her thoughts scattered once more.
Unaware of her wayward reflections, he cleaned the blood from her lips. “Much better.” When his fingers grazed hers, she gasped and yanked them away. His eyes gleamed with amusement. “I’m not trying to break them, you know. Only clean them.”
Blinking, she looked down to see dirt and blood marring her hands. After a moment’s hesitation, she held them out for his inspection. He wiped them with the cloth as well, in slow, methodical patterns. His calm manner soothed her frayed nerves.
“He told me it was my fault Mother died.”
Gabe lifted his gaze to hers, holding fast, his focus unwavering. “I heard. But it’s not true.”
Her voice snagged on another sob. “But what if it is? What if searching for me weakened her constitution? I should have told her my plans. I should never have left.”
A strange stillness passed over him. “Do you realize that if you had not left, I would have missed out on knowing you? The most wonderful person I’ve ever met?”
Her eyes slid shut at his praise. She didn’t deserve it.
He let his thumb stroke the soft skin of her jaw. His voice was low. “Your father is drunk and angry, Cass. Nothing more. Your mother’s passing is tragic, but life and death are not in your hands.”
“But if I—”
“Your father hurts you because he speaks out of his own pain, from his own demons. It has nothing to do with you. Nothing.”
She searched his face, leaning into the gentle fingers caressing her jaw. “It’s a hard thing to believe when it’s the opposite of what I’ve been told all my life.”
His face was close. Earnest yet sad. “Just because someone hands you a blade doesn’t mean you have to cut yourself with it.”
A small smile broke through her sniffles. “I wish I saw myself the way you do.”
“It’s the way God sees you too. You’re caring and kind. Intelligent and courageous.” He swallowed, his gaze dropping to her lips, his voice hoarse. “You’re more than just a friend, Cass.”
Somehow, the distance between them disappeared. Cradling her face in his warm hands, he hovered a breath away from her lips for a moment before claiming them with a gentleness that robbed her of coherent thought. Dizzying sensations rushed through her.
Her heart took flight.
Gabe’s heart thundered a staccato rhythm as he stroked the soft skin of Cassie’s lovely face. He kissed her with a heady euphoria that stole his breath. She was soft and perfect. Ecstasy.
Fearing he was hurting her bruised lips, he broke away and searched her sweet face held in his hands. She whispered his name before leaning in for more.
Her need fueled his own, and he plunged his fingers into her thick hair, pulling her to him once more. His pulse roared in his ears. He didn’t want it to stop. Couldn’t pull away.
“Cass . . .” He nuzzled her ear. She clung to him with a desperation that undid him. When his hands moved from her hair to stroke her back, he felt the soft fabric of her shawl under his fingers and froze. He couldn’t sully her reputation. He would not.
Leaning away, he rested his forehead against hers and slipped his fingers down to clasp hers.
“What just happened?” Her voice was breathy.
He chuckled lightly and ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “I’m not sure, but it was enjoyable.”
She blushed, and he smiled. He’d never seen her like this. Embarrassed, unsure. The immovable soldier had melted into a feminine enchantress, unaware of the spell she had cast.
“I’m loath to tear myself away, but I fear I will lose control completely if I don’t.”
She nodded, looking down at their entwined fingers.
He studied the long sweep of her dark lashes. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes, I am now.”
He chuckled, his chest thumping when a smile curved her lips. “And physically? Your ankle?”
“My ankle is sore, but if you’ll just help me to my door, I’ll hop into bed and rest.”
Warmth engulfed him. Heaven help him. Now that he had tasted her sweetness, he could think of little else.
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom door. She guided her feet to the floor and winced, releasing him to grasp the doorframe. She gazed up at him with those luminous eyes.
“Thank you.”
Throat tight, he knew he couldn’t trust himself. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and eased the door open with a thin squeak. She hobbled to her bed as he slipped the door closed. With a heavy breath, he rested his head against the wall and slid down to the floor to keep watch over her through the night.
Her father would not hurt her again. Gabe would see to it.
Chapter 22
CASSIE LOWERED HERSELF TO THE MILKING STOOL with a grunt, her ankle bearing testament to the previous night’s struggle.
She ran her fingers over Molasses’s light-brown fur, keeping her voice soothing and gentle. “There, girl. Just coming to fetch some milk for your mistress. Granny likes her coffee with cream, you know.”
Molasses flicked her tail and offered a grouchy moo in response.
“I know. I’m tired this morning too.”
Judging by Granny’s innocent questions at breakfast, she had heard nothing of Father’s fury or their tussle. Cassie said not a word to inform her, save her response when Granny asked about the faint limp she had been unable to hide.
“It’s nothing. Just stepped crooked on the way back from the outhouse.”
Not exactly a lie, and Granny had accepted the explanation without questioning her further. Gabe was nowhere to be found. He’d no doubt been embarrassed by Cassie’s weepy neediness and her brazen behavior the night before.
Scalding mortification swamped her cheeks. How could she have acted in such a way? She was a soldier of the Union army, for mercy’s sake. A sharpshooter. She had seen things that could make some men lose heart, yet one furious encounter with Father had turned her into a blubbering mess. And then into a shameless vixen.
Even now, Gabe’s sweet kisses burned her lips.
Pushing away the heady sensation, she ran her fingers down to Molasses’s udder and squeezed the milk out in streams, listening to the liquid as it hissed into the metal bucket. The cream foamed, frothy and rich, as she emptied the creature of her burden.
She had tiptoed ou
tside after breakfast, wary that Father might still be lurking about, but all signs of his presence had disappeared. It was almost as if the entire thing had never happened. No, her arm was still bruised from his cruel grip, her mouth and ankle still sore, and his accusations continued to burden her heart with guilt.
I’m so sorry, Mother.
The barn door squeaked open and her muscles tightened until she saw Gabe’s silhouette framed against the pale sunlight.
“Cass?”
His voice seemed gravelly this morning. Strained. As if he’d slept poorly or perhaps not at all. Had he relived what had happened in the kitchen as oft as she had? She had managed to snatch only an hour’s sleep, alternating between elation and humiliation at the way she’d behaved.
Clearing her throat, she murmured, “I’m here.” Molasses swatted her tail again, irritated by the interruption.
He stepped inside, blinking to adjust his eyes to the barn’s shadows. The single window it boasted didn’t illuminate much. He approached and she swallowed, returning her attention to the task at hand. His footfalls crunched against the straw-covered floor as he moved to stand beside her. “How did you sleep?”
“Not well.”
He chuckled quietly. “Me neither.” His voice sounded oddly warm and intimate.
Her pulse thudded. She must change his focus. “Where have you been?”
He grabbed an old crate, plopped it next to her, and sat down, studying her profile. “Walked a mile to the Jenkins place, per Ardie’s instructions. I want to fix her porch steps before we leave in a few days, and she told me he would be the closest neighbor with fresh lumber on hand.”
She kept her eyes on the rapidly filling bucket. “That’s kind of you.”
“Not really. I have nothing else to do except take your grandmother’s photograph. She’s been reminding me every hour since I first suggested it.”
The comment normally would have elicited a giggle, but Cassie fell silent, her mood growing dark.
