by B C Yancey
Her eyes flew to his. "I do not!"
"Was he prettier than me? Is that it? It's my crooked nose, isn't it?" His gloved hand cupped his nose, hiding it from view.
"No," She grinned. "I happen to think your nose is quite charming."
A dimpled grin creased his lips. "You fell right into that one, darlin'. You didn't know it, but I was fishin' for compliments."
The wind gusted, whipping her skirts around her legs and causing her teeth to chatter from the frigid cold. However, she was reluctant to go inside just yet. At least out here, she wasn't trapped near him, she'd rather be cold than full of panic.
"Let's get inside. I don't know about you, but I've about frozen my fanny off out here!" Sawyer gripped her hand, wanting any excuse he could find to touch her and walked her quickly to the house. Blocking the wind with his body, he opened the door and nudged her inside.
"Where are the kids?" he asked while stripping off his gloves and coat.
Lillian hurried over to the fireplace, struggling to calm the mad pounding of her heart by putting some distance between them. "They were upstairs in their room when I went out to talk with you. Kitty's down for a nap, and Paul was drawing."
She stood in front of the fire and reached her hand out toward the flames. The delicious warmth caused prickles of sensation in her fingers, at least that's what she told herself caused the—it had nothing to do with his approaching nearness. To prove her point that he couldn't affect such a response in her, she refused to give in to the temptation to look at him.
Sawyer studied her for a moment and then stated, "My wife and baby died in childbirth seven years ago." He stood next to her and reached his hands out, close to her own by the fire.
"I'm sorry," Lillian whispered, at last allowing herself to meet his gaze.
A sad smile bent his lips. "Thank you." He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "I just want to let you know I've been where you are now; the early part, finding your new normal."
"How did you meet?" She asked quietly.
Sawyer smiled. "We were childhood sweethearts, the two of us. Jane was her name. She was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen." He sighed, closing his eyes. "She had the bluest cornflower eyes, and hair the color of freshly churned butter."
Taking a deep breath, he watched the flames in the hearth as he quietly mused, "Thought we'd grow old together, but found out that wasn't part of the deal. Looking back, I might have done things differently. Maybe, if we hadn't tried so hard to start a family, she might still be alive today."
He shook his head sadly, "But, there's no point in dwellin' on what might have been; can't do nothin' to change what happened, can I? Fact is, she wasn't built for havin' babies, leastways not my babies."
"What do you mean?"
"She was a tiny thing, my Jane. The top of her head came about here," he raised a hand to mid-rib.
Lillian nodded in understanding. That would account for the much shorter clothing she'd been given to alter and wear since arriving.
"Doc said it was her body being too small for the baby to make its way out. That began the problem, but then she began bleeding, and we couldn't get it stopped." Distractedly, Sawyer ran his hand through his hair, "Don't have much recollection of what happened that first year after she was gone. After a while, I think I realized I still had a life to live. And after I came back to myself, I met Paul and Kitty. Their mama brought ‘em into town one day I happened to be there, and that sweet little girl, no older than a year or so, looked just like my Jane. Exactly how I always thought our daughter, if we'd ever had one, would look. It was healing in many ways."
"You love them, don't you? I can hear it in the way you say their names."
"I do," He nodded, "Like they were my own."
Lillian reached a trembling hand and touched his arm. "Thank you." For taking care of them and loving them, she thought, for protecting them when they needed it most.
"I just don't want you giving me any more of those funny looks," Sawyer teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"I didn't realize I was," she smiled.
He strode over to his chair and settled down, giving her an encouraging smile as he said, "Your turn."
Chapter ten
Lillian's thoughts were in a jumbled mess. Their pasts were so different in so many ways. What would he think of her after she told him any of it?
He'd loved and been loved in return; she, on the other hand, had merely been tolerated when the occasion called for it and forgotten when it wasn't. She'd felt invisible and had long ago accepted that her life would never be filled with anything more.
Convulsively swallowing, she stared into the fire. "He-his name was Richard," she closed her eyes against the ache in her stomach that immediately set in at the mention of his name. "He was ten years older and the only son of a friend of my father. When my parents died from fever, Richard offered to marry me, to take care of me."
She shook her head and clucked her tongue. There was no point in lying about it, so she took a calming breath and said, "In truth, I was grief-stricken, standing at my parents' freshly dug graves, and completely vulnerable to Richard and his unpredictable moods."
Sawyer frowned, but remained silent, worried if he interrupted her, she'd stop talking.
Lillian chewed on the inside of her cheek as she deliberated over how much more she should tell him. "After he declared we were getting married before the end of the month, I didn't know what to say or do to get out of the situation I'd suddenly found myself in."
She gave him an apologetic glance over her shoulder and turned back to the fire, afraid of what she'd see in his eyes if she looked too closely. "I'd been raised to be an obedient and dutiful daughter, to meekly accept what was placed before me and ignore my desires or dreams, because they were worthless."
"Paint his picture for me," he said softly, watching her as she stood with her eyes closed in front of the fire. "Let me see him the way you saw him."
She gripped her bandaged arm. "Richard was my height, wiry and pale, even though he spent a good deal of time outdoors. Delicate, I guess you could say. I remember worrying, in the beginning, after we were first married, that I'd crush him to death while sleeping."
It had been a ridiculous fear. He’d never shared her bed for the remainder of the night after demanding his husbandly rights.
Lillian pushed those nauseating memories aside and continued, "He had sandy brown hair, the color soil turns after a light rain." Her stomach churned in anxiety. She should have tried harder to paint him with kind words, words that would make Sawyer believe she had loved her husband.
She took a deep breath and allowed the words to come without any thought of guarding what she said. "We were married for six years. I suppose it was a tolerable marriage, compared to some, but it wasn't what I had hoped for. If my parents hadn't died, I wouldn't have married him."
The truth startled her for a moment, setting something free within her, and she continued, "We were never able to have children. He had other things that he believed were a better use of his time than—doing what would be necessary to...produce children."
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Sawyer straighten in his chair at the news. "Richard had hemophilia. There was an accident. He should have taken a different mount, one of the farmhands warned him against taking his new mare, but he'd just bought her and rarely listened to anyone other than himself. The mare was extremely temperamental and took exception to his handling of her."
Sawyer grunted, thoroughly unimpressed with what he'd learned of her dead husband so far.
She turned and faced him. "He was thrown and broke his leg when the mare ran over him in her dash through town. His bone broke through the skin—the doctor told me it was a death sentence itself even if he hadn't had his blood disease."
Silently pleading for him not to judge her too harshly, she continued, "I cried at his funeral, but they were tears of relief. I was finally free of a man that I was quickly learn
ing to despise. I never loved him, and I no longer had to pretend that I did after I left that funeral."
"What happened after that?" Sawyer asked, attempting to keep his tone light and conversational.
Turning to the window, Lillian watched the snow drifting down in dense clumps as the sun lowered on the horizon.
She had been meek and submissive for so long, denying herself so many experiences to be a 'good daughter' or a 'good wife.' It was ironic that the one time she attempted to take charge of her life, it would be altered and scared to the point most days she wasn't sure she wanted it any longer.
After Richard died and freedom opened up before her, she had grabbed hold of the idea to go west with a death grip. Maggie had been the only family left and the idea of being close again after years of distance shone like a beacon in her dark and lonely world. At last, she would be able to live her life as she wanted. She would prove Richard and her parents wrong.
Lillian swallowed past the emotion clogging her throat and prayed she'd be able to get the next part over with as quickly and calmly as possible. "I decided to come west." She paused for a moment, choosing her following words carefully before she slowly continued, "To start a new life. But there was trouble on the train—I was taken, along with four other women, by a band of outlaws."
Against her will, the memories flooded back with unrelenting clarity and froze her tongue. Panic seized her as Walker's voice echoed through her mind, bringing with it all the terror she'd experienced that day on the train.
Clamping her eyes closed, Lillian fought for control. She could do this; she just needed to say what happened as dispassionately as possible and then she'd never have to speak of it again.
Sawyer sat forward and narrowed his eyes. Of all the things he thought she might say, being abducted from a train by a band of outlaws wasn't one of them. He kept silent and watched her wage a silent battle against what he could only imagine had brought her utter misery.
Lost in memories, Lillian allowed the words to flow freely, "There were twelve men who said they were taking us south to Mexico to sell to brothels." She stared blankly at her reflection in the window, "Walker, he was the leader along with his brother, Hank. Some of the men said they had to sample us, to know what they were selling to make sure they got their money's worth."
Sawyer's nostrils flared in anger as he clenched his teeth and listened to her. She stood rigid, looking forlorn and wounded and saying more than what her words alone told of her ordeal. Fearing what he was about to hear next, he wanted to stop her from speaking further and hold her.
Lillian adjusted the sling around her neck, fiddling with the fraying material as the memories of what she suffered from Walker flashed before her in horrific detail.
Breathe in, breathe out; they were actions people usually did without thought, but at that moment, panic paralyzed her. His pockmarked face filled her mind, bringing with it the sour smell of sweat and dirt, and worst of all, the sharp jabs of rock into tender flesh that had prohibited her from escaping the degradation of it all.
The fire popped and collapsed amidst a shower of sparks, snapping her out of her waking nightmare. Blinking, she took a shaky breath and let her surroundings and Sawyer's presence calm her. Walker was dead. She was safe.
Wishing to be done with the retelling and hoping Sawyer wouldn't want more clarification than what she was willing to give, she said, "I lied to them so they wouldn't touch me." She'd never tell him Walker had been the only one to call her bluff.
After that first night with Walker, she had wanted to die and had fantasized about the different ways to go about doing it. In desperation after one of the first few nights when he'd nearly beaten her senseless, she had unsuccessfully tried to detach herself from reality each time he forced himself on her knowing he wouldn’t able to prey on her unless she fought against him. But Walker had always found a way to make the horrendous nights continue without relief.
Sawyer's shoulders relaxed slightly. "What'd you tell them?"
Lillian turned so he wouldn't see, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she replied, "That I had 'the clap,' and if they dared touch me, their man parts would drop off."
Sawyer choked on a laugh, unable to keep a pleased grin from spreading across his face. "Smart thinkin'."
Taking a steadying breath, Lillian forced the images of Walker into the far back corner of her mind and continued, "One night on our way through Arkansas there was trouble in the outskirts of one of the towns we rode by. Several of the men and one of the women were shot."
She could still see their faces staring up at her with lifeless eyes, making her want to join them. She’d wept when the bullets failed to take her as well that night. "Shortly after, two more of the women were killed."
Sawyer clenched his teeth, struggling to contain his temper as he growled. "How did they die?"
She took a deep breath before stating, "Walker shot them. They were slowing us down, he said. While crossing a river earlier that same day, a snake bit one of the women and the other woman who died wasn't well when they took her from the train, but throughout the journey, she'd steadily grown worse. A few days later, two of the men tried deserting in the night, so Walker killed them. The only ones left were Walker, Hank, and Willis with Beth and me. We were almost through Arkansas when a US Marshal found us."
"And that's how you were freed?" Sawyer asked, his voice full of hope even as his stomach clenched in dread, knowing but the haunted look on her face she hadn't been so fortunate.
Lillian shook her head and gave a mirthless chuckled, "I thought we would, at last, be saved; that help had finally arrived, and our hell would end. But the Marshal only managed to kill Hank and Willis in the gunfight and wound Walker. Before Walker escaped with Beth and me, he killed the Marshal."
Sawyer clenched his fists against his legs as the urge to punch something became nearly unbearable. If she said Walker was still alive, he was going to hunt the outlaw down and kill him himself.
She rubbed her forehead to try to relieve the headache settling behind her eyes as that terrible day replayed in her mind. "Walker had been shot and was bleeding quite heavily. When he finally passed out, we took advantage of the situation." Lillian haltingly continued, "Beth shot Walker with his pistol before we ran as far as we could. I knew of...some friends that had moved out here a while back—and hoped that they'd still be here if I could make it."
"So that's what brought you this way?" He frowned, "Why didn't you tell me about them sooner, I could have sent word or took you to them..."
She chewed her lower lip and looked away. "Shortly after you found me, I discovered they had died a couple of years ago. There was no point in bringing it up."
Sawyer stood, unable to sit any longer. "What happened to Beth?" He wanted to hold her yet forced his arms to remain at his sides, worried she'd reject the comfort he wanted to give.
The sadness in her eyes when she turned and looked at him nearly had him undone. Her voice broke as she said, "We came to the river a few miles from here I guess—there had been heavy rainfall the day before, but we couldn't find another way of making it across. Beth was swept away, and despite my how hard I tried, I wasn't able to save her."
She scratched absently at an itch she couldn't reach beneath her bandage, then smoothed her hand over the material. "I remember hitting my head and breaking my left arm before I got tangled in a large tree that stuck out into the river from the bank."
Although she managed to keep the tears at bay, Lillian choked on the repressed emotion. Surely, something must be wrong with her; how else could she explain her miserable life?
Sawyer stared at her, amazed at what she had lived through. Unable to ignore his longing to hold her, he settled and hand on her right arm, "I'm glad. I'm glad you told me." He took a step closer when she didn't shrink from him.
Goosebumps erupted over her flesh as she gazed into his eyes, wanting him to hold her and chase all the bad memories away
.
Gathering her against his chest with tender care, he gave in to the desire to wrap her in his arms.
Her fragile hold on emotions that remained too close to the surface nearly shattered at his touch. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing beat of his heart.
Wrapping her arms around his waist in blissful contentment, Lillian bit back a sigh when he smoothed a hand up and down her back. She was right where she wanted to be--safe, and she never wanted to leave.
"When's supper, Lily?" Kitty called from the top of the stairs, "My belly woke me up 'cause it's hungry."
Lillian took a deep breath and stepped out of his embrace, forcing away the disappointment that gripped her with the interruption. If she wasn't careful, she'd lose her heart to this man and then where would she be?
Hopefully, now that he had answers to some of his questions, he'd leave her alone. Even though that was the last thing that she wanted him to do.
Sawyer flashed a dimpled grin and squeezed Lillian's arm before turning to see Kitty sliding on her bottom from step to step. He shook his head, unable to stop laughing, "Silly girl, you're gonna bruise your fanny!"
"PAPA," Kitty squealed in delight. She jumped up and ran over, throwing her arms around his leg, "I missed you, Papa!"
"I missed you too," he laughed, scooping her up. "Did you have a good nap, honey bear?"
She nodded enthusiastically, her blonde curls bobbing up and down, "Yes. And you know what else, Papa?"
Lillian silently walked away from them and hung her shawl up on the hook as she went to the kitchen to finish preparing supper, unable to stop the smile that creased her lips. Kitty's happy chatter in the next room brought comfort to her battered emotions.
Chapter Eleven
After two more days of snowfall, it looked as though the storm had finally spent itself. The sudden silence startled Lillian awake with a jolt as she realized the wind no longer howled through the windowpane.
The nightmares hadn't troubled her since talking with Sawyer, allowing her the first restful sleep she'd been able to enjoy in a long time. She glanced at the window and found the sky was beginning to take on the orange-pink glow of pre-dawn.
