Undeniable

by Laura Stapleton

  He came around the front. “Yeah, after walkin’ four miles to get our team, I don’t care about much except you gettin’ our water for coffee.”

  “Water?” Beth had gone earlier and retreated after seeing how the dirty brown water rushed past, bending saplings. Debris from further upstream drifted down, damming up in some places where rocks outcropped. “I don’t want to. I can’t.” She didn’t see the furious glint in his eyes until too late.

  He grabbed her by the arm, took a pail, and drug her to the stream overflowing its banks. “You’ll get me my damned water, Lizzy, how and when I tell you to.” Daggart pulled her closer and closer, each step leaving her more paralyzed with fear. Beth’s knees wouldn’t bend as he hauled her behind him.

  At three feet from torrent’s edge, she dug in her heels and leaned back. “No, no!” At her cry, Daggart turned to glare at her, his jaw set. He pulled Beth’s arm and shoved her toward the torrent, tearing her sleeve loose from her dress. She stumbled down the embankment, grabbing onto a bolder half submerged. The roar of the river filled her ears. Too terrified to scream, Beth clung to the rock. She couldn’t open her eyes, instead pressing her face against the stone.

  Daggart yelled at her over the noise. “I want my damn coffee! Don’t come back until you have water!”

  Beth turned her head a little, peeking through her lashes. He’d set down the pail and now walked up the slight incline, not seeing her in the rising water. She shivered in the cold and looked down where she held onto the rock. Her heart skipped, alarmed at how water now came up to her waist. Was the creek getting higher? she wondered, lifting her head and looking west. Angry dark clouds rushed toward her, full of more rain. Heaven help her, the faster and higher water wasn’t her imagination. The boulder was her own island and soon to be submerged. Dizzy from fear, she hugged the stone with all her might. She couldn’t let go and be swept away like the last time. Beth started crying, hot tears creating warm tracks down her cold face. Burying her face in her left shoulder to hide from the water, she only now noticed the sleeve torn away.

  “Elizabeth! Please, sweetheart, grab hold of me!”

  She heard Nicholas first and then felt his hands on her waist. He pulled at her, leaving her no choice but to grip tighter. If she let go, they’d both be swept downstream, just like before with Lizzy. “No! I can’t!”

  He worked his arms between her waist and the cold rock, his warm body thawing the fear from hers. “Elizabeth,” he said in her ear, “I have you. I’m not letting go.”

  “No,” she sobbed. “You won’t be able to hold me. The current is too strong.”

  “Please, Elizabeth, sweetheart. You have to trust me. I’ve got you.” He squeezed her even tighter. “I’ve got you and won’t let go.”

  The river splashed her face, causing her to sputter. “You can’t hold on to me like this. We’ll die!”

  “No, we won’t. Let me get you out of here. Turn around and hold me. I’ll get you back on ground.” He pressed his lips against her ear, saying, “Please, trust me to keep you safe.”

  With a deep breath, she loosened her grip on the rock. He wrapped his arms more securely around her waist as the gap between her and the stone increased. She asked, “Let go completely?”

  His arms tightened around her. “Yes, I’ll get you back to shore.”

  Beth pushed away from the boulder and onto Nicholas. They tumbled in the current as he kept them above the surface. She turned to him, pressing her face into his neck. The swept away sensation stopped as if they were snagged by a large fishhook, and Beth opened her eyes.

  Nicholas held onto a handful of river marsh. He’d wrapped the blades around his hand and had them in a white knuckled grip. “When you make your mind up to let go, you let go more than I expected. I’ll try to remember that the next time I pry you from a rock.”

  Feeling his slight chuckle, she also reached out to the vegetation he held. “I didn’t mean to fall in, I promise.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her head. “How about we get back on shore?” When she nodded, he said, “Keep your arms around me, I’ll do the pulling.” Once her hands were locked around his chest, Nicholas reached for his other hand. He hauled them both out of the water and onto the bank.

  Although safe, she held him, still hearing the torrents. “I had to get water.” Beth shivered, his warmth contrasting with her cold. “I was so scared and I’m sorry to be such trouble.”

  “You could never be trouble and everyone is afraid of something. In fact, I’m afraid of letting you go.” He loosened his hold on her. “But if I don’t, your husband will call me out.”

  “Oh! Oh my husband, of course.” Beth drew away from him, a little. “Again, I’m sorry.”

  “Again, sweetheart, don’t be,” he whispered near her ear. Nicholas pulled her sleeve from where it draped on her elbow up to her shoulder. “Why were you so close to the creek? It’s not like you with the water so high.”

  “Daggart insisted and had to make me, I’m afraid.” She saw the anger in his expression and trembled, not wanting to upset him but not wanting to lie. “I couldn’t make myself go.”

  “I see.” His eyes were almost as dark as the storm clouds overhead.

  She swallowed and tried to salvage the situation. “Falling in was my fault for being such a goose. I overreact to floods, muddy water, rapids, and those sorts of things. Daggart was probably trying to help me get over my fear, and here I’ve caused fuss and bother for you.” Beth stood, unsteady on her feet still. “If I promise to never act so foolish again, will you please forgive me for my thoughtless behavior?”

  “Tell me if I understand this correctly.” He stood also, saying through gritted teeth, “You are terrified of floods. Despite this, your husband forces you to gather water from an overflowing creek. Now, you beg me to forgive your panic?”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.” She picked up the pail and gave him her best smile. “Let’s forget all this and it’ll never happen again.”

  Nicholas held out his hand in a give me gesture and took the bucket from her. “What I want you to do is go back uphill to where you feel safe. I’ll be up in a minute, no debate.”

  She nodded, too intimidated by his stern tone to argue. Beth struggled up the incline, her legs still unsteady. Nicholas soon caught up to her, his strides solid from determination.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Your husband will have his water, filthy though it may be.”

  She followed him to the camp without a reply. Beth bit her lip when she saw Daggart waiting for her by the wagon. He looked as angry as Nicholas.

  “Mr. Bartlett, your water.” Nicholas handed him the pail.

  Daggart addressed Beth, “What happened to you getting this for me?”

  She started an answer, but before Beth could speak, Nicholas interjected, “She was unable to, having fallen into a flooding stream.” He indicated their appearance. “Neither of us are exactly dry at the moment.”

  “A good excuse to force your work on others.” Her husband still spoke to Beth as if only the two of them were there.

  Nicholas stepped in between them, facing Daggart. “No. It is fact.” He went forward, forcing the taller man back a step. “For some reason, she was clinging to a rock as the creek rose. If she’d been there much longer, Mrs. Bartlett would have been swept away.”

  He scoffed, “As useless as Beth is around here, you should have let her. Saved us all a lot of trouble.”

  Chapter 8

  Beth glanced in stunned silence from one man to the other. Daggart hadn’t used her own name since her father died. Both men glowered at each other, locked in a wordless fight. In an effort to diffuse the situation, she began, “Um, now that we have the water…” She trailed off when they turned to her, fury evident in both their faces. All that anger left her speechless.

  His tone clipped, Nicholas acknowledged, “Yes, we need to get started.” He tipped his hat to both of them. “Mrs.
Bartlett, Bartlett.”

  After the man walked far enough away, Daggart threw down the pail with such force the side bent. He turned to her and grabbed the front of her dress under her throat. “You’re always hoping a man will save you from drowning or other accidents.”

  “I hope someone would, yes,” she whispered.

  He shook her a little with every few words. “One day, and I hope it’s soon, no one’s gonna be there to save you ‘n even if I am there, I’m not helpin’ you one bit.”

  Before she could stop herself, Beth snapped, “Like you didn’t help Lizzy?”

  Dag released her with a shove. “No, damn it all, I wanted to save her.” He followed her as she stumbled, adding, “I wasn’t there to help her like you were.” Once close, pressing her against the wagon, he reached back and grabbed her braid. Daggart dug his fingers in, nails scraping her scalp. “You let her die and are doin’ a real bad job of bein’ her. Your daddy wouldn’t like that, would he?”

  Beth nodded as much as possible, wishing she’d never promised to be anything to this man. “I suppose not.”

  He leaned in close, whispering, “You’d best be thinkin’ more of how Lizzy would behave on this trip and less as to how you would, or else.”

  She doubted he’d have ever uprooted Lizzy from their home, even for gold. Beth hated his using threats and guilt. She hissed, “Or else what? Are you threatening to kill me? I thought you wanted Lizzy even if I had to pretend.”

  As he grinned, she could see the remnants of his prior meal still in his teeth. “That’s the thing, Lizzy Lou. There are a lot of miles and a lot of accidents between here and California.” He looked up, tapping a finger against his chin in mock sorrow, “I’d hate to lose another wife. Such a pain, havin’ to dig your grave.” Daggart shrugged. “But if you’re not her, no sense in sharin’ my gold with the likes of you. Wouldn’t hurt me to get in practice with a shovel, either.”

  Beth’s hairs on the back of her neck rose. He’d hit her, made her do things she’d thought awful, even threatened to leave her behind without anything, but Daggart had never spoke of murder when he was sober. Seeing the man’s determined face, she felt certain he’d carry out his threat. The Granvilles wouldn’t allow him to harm her, they couldn’t. She clasped her hands to keep them from shaking so Daggart wouldn’t see and use her fear against her. “I’ll do my best to be a better Lizzy.”

  He laughed, “That’s what I want to hear. Do what I want when I want and nothing bad has to happen to you.” Letting go of her, he added, “Get goin’ on chores. I want my breakfast.”

  For the rest of the morning, Beth did whatever possible to avoid Daggart. Heavy clouds blew in overhead, blasting everyone with hard, cold gusts. She couldn’t work on any stitching, instead concentrating on following the trail. In view of Daggart’s destructive mood, he’d likely use the new material for traction to get them out of the mud instead of anything else. While they stopped for noon, she sewed up her ripped sleeve. She considered herself lucky the left arm torn and easier to fix without having to take off her dress entirely. The stitches weren’t neat, but served a purpose until she could change into other clothes.

  Very few had fires built for dinner, having found small amounts of wood in the distance between the morning and evening camps. She’d hoped this far in the prairie, buffalo chips weren’t so rare. Even if the chips were plentiful, they’d be soaked and useless. She and Daggart had their milk and yesterday’s bacon without a word. He smiled and chatted when others strolled by their campsite. After they passed by, he returned to a sullen silence. Beth enjoyed the quiet, but not the damp chill.

  The wagon circle was far from any proper water, but heavy rains had left large puddles. The stock drank from them while the people used collected rainwater. Those who tried to raise tents soon found them flattened in the wind. She saw Daggart shrug and walk away as a nearby family’s blew down. Beth went over to help, folding, and making sure all the stakes were found.

  The sky darkened with evening. Tired, cold, and still very wet, Beth decided against sewing or knitting, instead wanting to sleep. Her body still ached from the earlier fall in the creek and Daggart’s resulting temper. Despite hanging up the bedding to dry during the day, the humid air kept them damp. She felt more than saw Daggart come in under the blankets. He snuggled against her, waking her a little with his cold body. Not smelling the stink of whisky, Beth relaxed and fell back to sleep.

  Beth both enjoyed and wondered about Daggart’s absence at breakfast. She’d soon fastened the blankets to the canopy, letting them hang outside again all day or at least until it rained. Beth followed their wagon at a distance. Her healing feet and other aches slowed her pace. The train continued through noon, stopping upon reaching Dry Creek. The stream lived up to its name by allowing everyone to cross easily but forcing the animals to go without a drink.

  Samuel and Mr. Lucky caused a fuss when they rode back to the train. In the gossip, Beth learned they’d left a few days ago to scout ahead. She saw them in the camp later, but didn’t hear where they’d searched. Talk drifted back to her and the others walking with her that they’d stop at Wood Creek for the night.

  The ten miles passed quickly. The breeze, still chilly, didn’t blow as hard as the prior two days. She smiled, thinking of how nice a dry bed would feel tonight. The sky stayed cloudless, keeping the day cool but dry. Daggart, along with the others, drove their team into the now familiar wagon circle. He continued to ignore her, something she found refreshing. Better to be ignored than scolded.

  Beth had spent the day thinking of how scary rushing water was and how twice she’d needed Nicholas’s rescue. While she enjoyed how close he held her then, she’d rather be near him for other reasons. Determined to conquer some of the fear, Beth took Erleen down to the stream. The creek rushed by, higher than any she’d seen so far. Even the rivers hadn’t flowed with such voracity. The water escaped far out of its banks, judging by the trees lining a narrow strip down its middle. Erleen trotted down the bank and stopped for a drink. Her heart pounding, Beth stayed a safe distance away. She wanted to have no chance of falling in while holding onto the cow’s rope.

  When Erleen finished drinking and started munching at the grass along the bank, Beth led her back to the wagon. She tied the animal off at the greenest part of their cart and went to get water for the evening meal. She took a deep breath and released it, hoping to calm her racing heartbeat. The pounding hurt against her sore ribs. She reassured her fears by thinking that they only needed a little water. Erleen’s milk could supplement, Beth admitted to herself, and she didn’t have to do this tonight. Nervous and biting her lip, she fixed her gaze on the opposite side.

  She lifted her chin and took a step toward the creek. Beth gripped the pail so hard the handle dug into her palm. One step at a time, she slowly neared the bank. People around her went up to the churning creek, scooped up the water and left. Bending at the knees, Beth leaned over, skimming the surface and filling the bucket half full.

  After straightening, she stepped back and took a couple of calming breaths. She walked toward the circle, thrilled at the small task she’d accomplished. Beth saw Nicholas walk toward her, carrying his own bucket. She couldn’t help grinning and pointing out her success. As he neared she blurted, “Look! It’s silly, I know, but I have water!” Her sore arm trembled with the effort as she lifted the pail.

  Dutifully, he peered inside the bucket then looked at her with a smile. “Are you doing better, then?”

  Beth’s face grew warm as she returned his grin. He didn’t need to know about Daggart’s abuse. “Yes, and I have something to drink now if I’m not.”

  He laughed, “I’m very proud of you trying, never mind doing.”

  “Thank you! I’m proud of me too.” She sighed, somewhat embarrassed at admitting, “You’ve already twice played hero to my childish phobia. I couldn’t let you waste your time with a third incident.”

  “There’s to be no third time?” H
e glanced around them then gave her an ornery smile. “Then I’ll have to find another reason to hold you close to me, sweetheart.”

  He’d called her by the endearment before now, but always while she felt in danger. Hearing such an endearment in his voice, and directed at her no less, left her breathless. “You will, hmm?”

  Nicholas, not breaking his gaze, took Beth’s hand and raised it to his lips. “I will.”

  She tingled from the back of her hand to her heart. “That’s very comforting, thank you.” She couldn’t look away from his eyes, the grey in them catching and reflecting the gold and red of the setting sun.

  “What’s going on, here?”

  Samuel’s voice startled her. Even though he smiled at them, Beth jerked away her hand, tucking it behind her back in shame. Fright left her mind unable to think and she couldn’t answer.

  Nicholas chuckled and shrugging said, “Come on, Sam. You’re not the only charmer around here. I think I’m allowed to congratulate a woman on a supreme accomplishment.”

  Samuel shook his head at Beth in mock disbelief, “Supreme? It must have been to warrant holding hands. Please, my dear, tell me I’m truly the only appealing man in the entire group.”

  She smiled, forcing herself to think fast and be witty. “You might not be the only one, sir. I think Mr. Nicholas has been learning from your fine example.”

  “You break my heart with such confessions!” Samuel went to stand next to her, taking her arm in a protective way. “You’ll have to let me walk you back to your camp, telling me how I may regain my place as the most eligible one of us two.”

  Glad she held the pail with her sore arm in case Samuel grew angry and pulled her along, Beth said, “I don’t think you have any reason to fret. Your brother may give you a close race, but you certainly win any contest.”