by Megan Hart
"I remember riding Tripper,” she said hoarsely. “I was running away from Jed and his contract."
Lorna's mouth tightened. “Jed and his stupid contract,” she muttered. “I would like to be beating the stuffing out of him for that contract."
Sally patted Lorna's hand. “Let's concentrate on Caite."
"I fell off,” Caite said, not a question. She had a sudden, vivid recollection of the ground flying up to meet her. She shivered.
"When Tripper found his way back here without a rider, we were all mighty worried,” Sally told her. “But then, when Jed brought you in..."
"Jed found me?” Caite asked. So he had come after her. Was it out of concern for her safety, or just to hand her over to the sheriff? She supposed it no longer really mattered.
"Jed and Sheriff Shaw both did. They were tracking you from Staghorn. Oh, Caitleen!” Lorna scolded. “What were you thinking, taking such a risk?"
Caite took Lorna's hand and squeezed it with what little strength she had. “I am so sorry, Lorna, believe me. I know I behaved abominably. I was foolish."
The hand holding Lorna's was red and cracked. Sunburned. Caite reached up to touch her face, realizing at once she had been burned there as well. Wincing, she ran her fingers across her lips. No wonder she had had trouble opening her mouth to speak. A horde of tiny, painful blisters clustered in the corners of her mouth and across the tender flesh of her lips. She had been burned badly.
"How long was it before Jed found me?"
"We think it must've been several hours.” Sally pulled Caite's hand away from her face. “If it wasn't for Sheriff Shaw, he might not have found you at all. You were far off route."
Caite burst into tears. “I was so stupid!"
Lorna and Sally both hugged her, rubbing her back until the tears had passed. Then they busied themselves tidying her, wiping her face gently with a soft, damp cloth and rubbing a soothing cream into her blisters. Their generous ministrations only made her feel worse. She did not deserve such kindness.
"Here, drink this.” Sally handed her a cup filled with a warm, pungent brew.
Caite sipped the bitter liquid, frowning at the taste. “What is it?"
"It'll help to build your strength after the bleeding."
"Bleeding?"
Lorna and Sally exchanged glances. What she saw on their faces was enough to make Caite's heart pound. The cup shook in her hand.
"You'll be fine,” Sally assured her, seeing Caite's distress. She took the cup back. “The bleeding has stopped. You and the baby are both fine."
"Baby?” Caite felt the blood rush from her head, and was horribly certain she was going to faint. She shook her head weakly, as if she could shake away what she had just heard.
"You were not knowing?” Lorna asked gently.
"How can this be?” Caite asked, the reality of what Sally had told her sinking in slowly. What a foolish question. She knew exactly how it had happened. “I'm going to have a baby?"
"We just assumed you knew,” Sally told her. She exchanged a helpless glance with Lorna. “We thought you and Jed both knew."
"Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Caite murmured, burying her face in her hands and rocking back and forth. She was pregnant. With Jed's child.
Soothing hands held her once more. She could not let herself break down now. More than ever, she had to be strong. Not for herself, but for her child.
* * * *
Jed sat, unmoving and unseeing, in one of the deep leather chairs in the main room. All he could see was Caitleen in the grass, arms and legs askew. Her beautiful, pale skin had burned and was beginning to blister. She hadn't even moaned when he picked her up.
Miles had found her trail right off. They had followed her as fast as their mounts could run, but it had not been fast enough. He had been too late to protect her from the fall.
"I reckon she'll be all right,” Miles mentioned from his seat across the room. It was the first he had spoken since they had brought her in.
Jed started, torn from the terrible memories. Rubbing eyes that felt flooded with broken glass, he looked over at the sheriff. “I hope so."
"She looked bad, son, but I've seen a lot worse."
Jed stood, wincing at the way his knees and back popped. He must have been sitting for a real long time. “If you're trying to make me feel better, Miles, you're not."
"Sorry."
Shorty came in from outside, his weathered face solemn. He nodded to Miles. “Howdy."
"How's that mare of yours coming?” Miles asked. “She foal yet?"
"She's close,” Shorty said.
How could they be talking about such mundane things when Caite lay dying? Jed fumed, the events of the past several hours finally catching up with him. Shorty and Miles were still yammering on about foals, horses, and all manner of things he didn't want to listen to.
"Would you just shut up about all that?” he growled suddenly. “What the hell difference does it make if you breed Zany Blue with Billy Royal, or Topper, or with your blasted self?"
Shorty stared at him silently, his face inscrutable. “I reckon I'm gonna let that go, Jedson, since I know you're worried about Miss Caite."
Rage filled Jed, and it felt a sight better than the fear that had been saturating him before. He curled his fingers into fists. He didn't much like Shorty's tone, and he told him so.
"I reckon I don't care what you think of my tone,” Shorty said, dismissing Jed as if he were of no account. The lean cowboy turned back to Miles and started talking about the foaling again.
"Don't turn your back on me, Shorty,” Jed warned. The anger had nearly chased away the sight of Caite lying so deathly still. Almost, but not quite. He needed more.
Shorty shot him a look of disgust. “Go sit back in your chair, Jedson, and think on what you done."
"What I done?” Jed hollered, taking a menacing step toward his friend.
"Yeah,” Shorty said slowly. “What you done to Miss Caite. If you hadn't been so gol-darned set on scaring her with that stupid piece of scrap paper, none of this ever would have happened."
That what Shorty said was true didn't matter. With a growl of utter rage, Jed sprang on the other man, intent on beating him into the ground. Shorty was quick, turning just as Jed jumped. The men came together like a pair of wolves fighting over the same carcass.
Jed's fist split Shorty's lip. Grunting in pain, Shorty countered with a quick jab to Jed's stomach. Each man was good with his fists, and anger fueled them both. Every punch connected with flesh, until both Shorty and Jed were on the floor, tussling like schoolboys.
"Stop it, both of you!” Lorna's sharp command rang through the main room.
Jed and Shorty continued to beat the beans out of each other. Only when Lorna marched over and grabbed each of them by the ear, pulling them apart, did they stop. Still glaring at each other, they backed off to their separate spaces.
"I am ashamed of you both!” Lorna cried. “Causing such a ruckus when Miss Caite is needing her sleep!"
"She's awake?” asked Jed eagerly. His nose felt about three sizes larger than normal, and one eye was rapidly swelling shut, but he didn't care. He only wanted to know if Caite was all right.
"She did wake, yes.” Lorna grabbed his arm as he tried to brush past her. “But she is not ready for you, Little Jed."
Jed scowled. “Don't treat me like a boy, Lorna."
Lorna's usually merry eyes glinted fiercely at him. “You are acting like a boy! Fighting with Shorty! What were you thinking? Both of you!"
Shorty snorted. “Ask Mr. Hothead here, Lorna."
"Don't tempt me, Shorty..."
"Stop it this instant!” Lorna yelled. “I am ashamed of both of you."
"He's just mad ‘cause I told him the truth,” Shorty stated calmly. “It's his fault Miss Caite is in such a mess."
"It was her own fault she got in such a mess,” Jed retorted, although he knew Shorty was right.
Shorty walked over to him
until they were face to face. The tall cowboy's eyes were hard, and his voice low and disgusted. “You ain't fit for Miss Caite to wipe her boots on, Jedson. No wonder she run off rather than be forced to marry you."
With a strangled cry of outrage, Jed launched into Shorty again. Their fighting was twice as violent this time around. Shorty slammed Jed against the wall, knocking the couch out of the way. Jed countered by butting Shorty with his head. Everything was a red rage of fists and curses, until one small sound broke through the tumult.
The cocking of a gun.
Through all the fighting, Miles Shaw had just sat and watched. At some point, however, he had decided he had had enough. Now he stood behind Shorty, his peacemaker Colt .45 pointing square at Jed's face.
"I reckon you boys ought to show some respect for Miss Caite's condition,” the sheriff remarked lazily. The gun didn't waver an inch.
Shorty backed off from his stranglehold on Jed's throat. Jed stepped away from the wall, hands up to show Miles he had no intention of using them. When both men had moved away from each other, Miles motioned with the gun that they should each step forward again.
"Shake hands,” he ordered.
Shorty and Jed still glared at each other hatefully.
"Go on, now. You're friends, ain't ya?"
Shorty's glare broke, and he looked shamefaced at Jed. “I reckon we are."
Jed stuck out his hand. “I'm sorry, Shorty. I never should've taken my fists to you. You were right about Caite. It's all my fault."
"Yep. I know,” Shorty replied. “But I know how upset you are about all of this, and I shouldn't have baited you."
The men shook hands heartily, neither one wincing despite their bruised and bleeding knuckles. Lorna clucked, shaking her head. Jed gave her a swift hug.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you, Lorna. I was being an pigheaded lout."
Lorna huffed, but returned the squeeze. “All right, Jed. We are all worried about Miss Caite."
Miles holstered his gun and looked pointedly at both Jed and Shorty. “I don't want to have to take this out again."
Jed nodded. He couldn't blame Miles for pulling out the peacemaker. He had Shorty had been acting like blasted idiots. Except it was really just him acting like the idiot. Everything was his fault.
If he hadn't tried to scare Caite, she wouldn't have run off. Tripper wouldn't have been spooked, and she wouldn't have been thrown. She wouldn't have cracked her head so hard it knocked her into next week, and the sun wouldn't have burned her lovely complexion.
If he had just said he loved her, they could be married by now. But no, he'd had to go and do things the hard way. He'd had to try and show her who was boss and his plan had turned on him. He guessed he'd learned his lesson by now, but was it too late?
"When can I see her?” he asked Lorna.
Lorna just stared at him for a moment. “She has not asked to see you, Jed."
"What did that matter?” He started toward the kitchen. “I need to see her, Lorna."
Lorna placed all five feet of herself in front of him, blocking his way. “No, Jed. You were not hearing me. Caitleen has asked not to see you."
Heat spread across his face. Incredulous, he stared first at Lorna, then Shorty and Miles. Each looked away uncomfortably at his obvious distress. “You mean she said flat out she doesn't want me in there?"
Lorna nodded slowly. The pity in her eyes was too much for him to handle. He turned from the kitchen, forcing his hands to unclench and his breathing to slow. Never mind a two-ton brick had just slammed into him. If she didn't want to see him, then he wouldn't force his attentions on her.
How could he blame her anyway? She would most likely never want to see his face again after what had happened. He thought of his tiny cabin, and the plans he had. There was no use staying around Heatherfield any longer. He might as well go now.
Jed shrugged, as if his very heart were not busting right in two. “I reckon I understand."
"Jed,” Lorna began, but he stopped her.
"No, Lorna. It's all right. Shorty was right about it being my fault, and Caite's right to shut me out. I reckon I'll just get out of everybody's way."
"Where are you going?” Lorna called after him.
"To the cabin,” he called back, not slowing on his way toward his room. “To my own place where I belong. Alone."
* * * *
Caite sipped more of Sally's bitter brew. They both had heard the scuffle outside. She knew it had something to do with Jed, but she had told Lorna she was not ready to see him. She needed time to think.
"Are you feeling better?"
Caite nodded gratefully, handing the cup back to Sally. “Much, thank you."
"We were all mighty worried about you,” Sally said.
"I'm sorry to have been such a bother."
Sally scoffed. “You haven't been any such thing."
Caite stared down at her reddened hands. “Could I see a mirror?"
Sally hesitated. “I don't think..."
"Please?” Caite could feel the tightness in her cheeks that meant she had been exposed to too much sun. With her fair skin, she was familiar with the sensation, but it had never been this bad. She must be very badly burned. She also felt a swath of bandages around her head.
Wordlessly, Sally gave her a long-handled looking glass. Caite closed her eyes before grasping it. Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes to see her reflection.
A white bandage, stained slightly red in the center, completely covered the right side of her head. Her skin was puffy, pulled taut across her cheeks and chin, and a harsh, angry red. Parts of her face were peeling already, the skin dangling in ugly patches. The blisters on her lips were colorless except for where they had burst, leaving behind a yellowish crust.
"It will take gallons of buttermilk to restore this complexion,” said Caite weakly, unable to tear her eyes from the unfamiliar face in the mirror. The face of a monster.
"Hush,” ordered Sally. She gently took the looking glass away. “Your face'll be fine. Just keep putting this cream on your skin."
No cream could ever restore my skin, Caite thought bleakly. The burn would fade and the blisters heal, but how could it ever go back to the way it was? She no longer needed to worry Jed might want her only out of lust. Looking at this face would certainly scare away any amorous feelings he had for her.
"How did you know Buck loved you?” Caite asked suddenly. Maybe she was hoping to gain some insight into Jed's character. Maybe she just wanted to hear a story with a happy ending.
Sally smiled. “I've known Buck for a long time. Even before Heather passed on, I'd see him in Staghorn. He often came into the mercantile to buy something pretty for her. That's how I knew he was a good man.
"After the flu took Heather, we became friends. I knew he was lonely. I even knew he had joined the bride program. I also knew I loved him, but I was too afraid to let him know. I thought he could never look at me the way he had Heather. He loved her so, you see."
"So how did you know? That he loved you, I mean?"
Sally's eyes turned dreamy. “He told me, Caite."
"He just told you?"
"Yes. He just came into the mercantile and asked me to marry him. He said he'd loved me for awhile, and he wasn't sure how I felt about him, but he was going to take a chance."
Caite sighed. “I wish his son were half as willing to risk his feelings."
Sally looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?"
"I mean,” Caite said slowly, “that the reason Jed was coming after me with the sheriff was because I said I would not marry him. I suppose he thought throwing the law on me might change my mind."
Sally seemed stunned, her pretty brow furrowed in confusion. “I don't understand. Don't you love him?"
"Yes, I do love him,” Caite murmured. She picked at a loose bit of thread on the coverlet.
"Then why won't you marry him?"
"Because he doesn't love me!” Caite cried, tears spri
nging to her eyes again.
Sally began to laugh. At the sight of Caite's affronted stare, she laughed even harder. Soon tears were streaming from her eyes, and she was holding her stomach, so forceful was her mirth.
"I do not see what is so funny,” Caite remarked at last. Sally's reaction hurt and annoyed her. How could she laugh at Caite's pain?
Sally finally calmed herself enough to speak. Wiping her eyes, she shook her head. A few chuckles still escaped her now and then.
"That man loves you more than I've ever seen a man love a woman,” she declared, her eyes bright with the tears of laughter.
"What?” Caite was completely confused. Sally thought Jed loved her?
"He loves you, Caitleen. He loves you so much he's practically sick from it."
"When I asked him if he cared for me, he said no,” Caite replied. Surely the other woman must be mistaken. “When I asked him if he loved me, he could not say anything."
"He doesn't have to say it,” Sally told her. “It's written all over his face."
"No,” Caite denied, looking down at her reddened hands. “I can't believe that."
Sally placed her hand on Caite's. “He was crying when he brought you in, Caite."
The thought of Jed in tears seemed inconceivable to her. Jed crying? And over her? It could not be.
"He knelt by this very bed, weeping,” Sally continued gently. “We had to drag him out of here so we could tend to you. He was so afraid you were going to die, Caite. He kept asking over and over for us to make sure you would be all right."
"He ... he really cried?” Caite's throat closed with emotion. Jed had cried for her. He must care ... he must!
"A man doesn't act that way about a woman he doesn't love,” Sally said wisely. “He loves you, Caite. I'm sure of it."
Caite groaned. “If only he had told me so himself, then none of this would ever have happened."
"Did you ever tell him how you felt?"
Shame flooded Caite. She had spent all that time abusing and haranguing Jed because he would not say he loved her, yet she had never told him the same. She raised wet eyes to Sally.
