David chuckled and turned his back toward her. "I'm going to fetch that wood before you sweep by the door."
His thoughtfulness surprised her. "Thank you."
"No problem. Don't know when the place will see a broom again since I'll be taking you to the trading post tomorrow after we stop by Reg's place."
Her instincts had her wanting to argue. Disappointment pinched her gut. He failed a test she hadn't meant to give. And now she longed to tell him that she was wrong, that it was too soon for her to be cast aside. That even though she agreed that the trading post was the right place for her, she wasn't quite ready to take that step.
Stifling a sneeze, she nodded her acceptance, but her heart ached at the very notion.
***
Darkness enveloped him in her lonely embrace. David gulped the last remnants of his whiskey, determined to find the sleep he so needed. Booze always helped him rest and despite knowing how Bobbie hated the sight of him with a bottle in his hand, he drank. He had to. It was the only way to find peace from the guilt that dogged his every step.
Lying on his side, he stared at the fire. Bobbie was sobbing into her pillow not five feet away from his pallet. It was obvious that she attempted to keep quiet, but he could hear her all the same. He could comfort her, protect her, be what she needed and she'd still be hurt and destroyed by circumstance.
He let out a sigh and held the empty bottle to his breast. The world was a horrible place to be whether you were alone or in the company of others. Very few died without regret…Sarah's regret? Well damnation, it was marrying him.
He closed his eyes and as always, memories of her filled his mind.
"Why did you bring me here? Silver? You wanted silver? My father would have found you work at his mill!"
"Your father?" he said with derision. "The man wanted you to wed my brother and yet you married me."
Her pale cheeks turned a deep crimson, her brown eyes narrowed with anger. "And for that I'm sorry. I don't want to be your wife if it means staying here."
The sound of his boots slamming against the floorboards as he backed her into a corner echoed through his head. "And do you regret coming to our marital bed a false virgin?"
His eyes flew open. How was it he'd let the pain from that particular indiscretion subside at her death? But he knew all to well. For even though her lie had come between them, her murder was his fault. He insisted they stay. Insisted she be someone she wasn't to placate his desire for wealth without strings.
"It was war, David. Jasper was leaving. He cried upon my shoulder and before I knew it, I was offering him comfort. He's not strong like you. He needed me."
"Then why are you my wife and not his?" he shouted. "And why not be honest with me? What other secrets do you have that can harm us?"
"I'm not his wife because I love you! And had you not been so stubborn and dutiful before joining the Confederacy you would have come to me and told me of your feelings." She pushed past him and rushed toward the open door, a glorious silhouette against the brilliant yellow sunlight. "I have loved you since I was a child and when you said nothing before you left, not even goodbye, it became crystal clear that the closest I was going to get to you, was your brother."
He could hear the tears in her voice and his pride evaporated. "I did come to you but Jasper was there, in your parlor, on his knee. I thought he was the one you wanted."
She straightened and slowly turned toward him. "I chose him by default…he is but a pale version of you."
David sat up, the world wavering before his drunken eyes. Bobbie had quieted, the only sounds in the cabin the popping fire and Alfred's gentle snore.
Stumbling to his feet, David made his way to the door. He needed to talk to Sarah. Damnation, he needed to tell her he was sorry for harming her. Explain to her how much her lie had hurt him.
He ran quaking fingers through his hair. Her lie, even though he had forgiven her, still burned, still had him questioning her after all these years.
"But why not tell me before? I would have understood."
She laughed, but there was no humor in it, only dismay and disbelief. "Like you understood when Reg flirted with me at the trading post? Like you understood when the fellow in Colorado Springs asked me to dine with him, not knowing I was married?"
David looked past her. "You should have told him you were married."
Her exasperated sigh had him tightening his jaw. "You didn't give me the opportunity. You bloodied his nose instead."
"Because I am unsure of your faithfulness," he shouted and glared at her. "And that my dear Mrs. Henderson, is your fault."
Tears rushed from her eyes. "I know, but will you ever be able to forgive me my mistake?"
He raised an imperious brow. "Of course, as long as you remember that you are my wife and that you are to do as I see fit."
Her lower lip quivered and he recognized her defeat. He had indeed won but the reward was far less valuable than he cared to admit. "And staying here is what you see fit?"
"Yes."
She sniffled and curled her long fingers in the fabric of her pale blue skirt. "Then I will take my penance at the altar of your desires. I will stay here and be miserable in silence."
Staggering toward the door, he reached for the handle, his fingers only grazing the cold iron as they flew uncontrollably past. "Damnation," he grumbled, his hand quivering.
Didn't God know he needed to get outside, to sit a moment at her grave and tell her how sorry he was? He'd apologized all over the mountain but since laying her to rest, he had yet to return to her graveside. To touch the ground that claimed her. To envision her beneath him as he begged her unhearing ears for forgiveness.
"What are you doing?" Bobbie called to him from bed, her voice strained. "You can't go out in your condition, you'll freeze to death." Without giving him a moment to respond, she was by his side, her fingers grasping at his wrist. "Come sit by the fire. Whatever you need to do outside can wait till morning."
He offered her a crooked smile. "Now, just how do you know that? I may need to piss."
"Don't be coarse," she huffed. "But if that's the case then take your coat and put on your boots, or better still, use the pot. Honestly, you make me afraid for you. I don't know how you've survived out here the way you drink."
Who the hell did she think she was, scolding him as if he weren't damn near twice her weight? Grabbing her by the shoulders he pressed her none to gently against the door. "Did you ever think I don't want to survive? Did you ever even consider that I welcome death? That I'm jealous that your family is with Sarah and bitter because I'm stuck here…with you?"
At her shocked intake of breath he was instantly sorry, but he didn't stop his tirade. "I need to be with Sarah…"
"Shut up!" she shouted and pulled free of his sloppy grasp. Her eyes flashed her derision as she lifted her hand and delivered a sobering slap to his cheek. "I'm sick to death of you feeling sorry for yourself. You're not dead and if Sarah loved you even a little then she would be appalled by your behavior."
"And who are you to speak for her, Bobbie?" his words slurred and an angry surge of heat sped to his aching cheek. "You wear her clothes and yet you pale in comparison."
He expected her hurt to register on her countenance, yet she remained still, her angry expression an untouchable mask. "That makes two of us, for you pale in comparison to the man I know you must have been. I see glimpses of him from time to time. He is the man I let kiss me, not this simpering wastrel I see standing before me. Not the drunkard who stumbles around here feeling as though his pain is more important than anyone else's."
Her defiance aroused him nearly as much as her beauty and yet her words hit their intended mark. "Don't think for a moment that I don't feel sorry for you or loathe your loss."
She relaxed a bit and her lower lip trembled. "But it's nothing to you because I feel it. All you can think about is yourself."
"No. I think about you, but I won't allow you to wither
here as she did." Without thought, he lifted his quaking hand and gently brushed a curl from her face, his fingertips lingering on the cool skin of her cheek. "There's more life at Henry's and come spring I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
She audibly swallowed. "I don't want to go anywhere," she confessed. "My closest friend is married and living with her husband's family. They've no room for me. My family is all…" Her eyes glinted with tears. "You know where all my family is. And our things are worth very little. Just a family Bible and a few trinkets." Fishing out the gold locket from the pocket of her skirt, she smoothed the intricate etching. "All I have is this." She held it out to him. "Take it, please."
He took a step back, wavering a bit. "I'm not taking that. Why would you want me to have it?"
"As payment for saving my life, it’s very obvious that no matter how much I want to, I can't return the favor."
"You keep that, I want no part of it. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do." Her expression was somber as once again sorrow ran from her eyes.
"Then why not do the right thing for yourself?" she cried. "Why can't you save your own life?"
Biting his lower lip, he contemplated the question. "I don't know."
She ran her fingers through her tangled curls. "Please, promise me you'll at least consider forgiving yourself. Live the life you're given and pull yourself from the misery of the past."
Her plea touched him and yet the notion felt like an impossible dream. "Why?"
"Because it's what Sarah would want…and it's what you need."
He stared at her, unsure how to respond. Yes, he was angry that she thought she could speak for Sarah. Yet, he couldn’t deny that the words soothed his aching soul. "How do you know what Sarah would want?"
"I'm not an extraordinary woman but I do know that when someone I love is in pain, I do anything within my power to see their hurt eased." Her tenderness had him stumbling back toward the fireplace. Tears stung his eyes and gripping the mantle, he buried his face in the fold of his arm.
"Words can't fix the error in my judgment."
"Mistakes were made, but you are not responsible for the deeds of others." Her voice was soft, her tone pleading. "I could easily blame my father for what has happened to my family--"
"Don't you?" he asked, looking at her through bleary eyes. "Don't you blame your father for venturing into the mountains this late in the year?"
She paused, her sadness, her confusion all marring the beauty of her face. "I suppose I could. But he made a mistake…a mistake that cost of all of us dearly. And he's paid for it, just as your misery has paid for yours."
He turned away from her and stared down into the orange embers of the dying fire. "He paid for his sins with his life, Sarah paid for my sins with hers. Don't you see the difference?"
"Yes, the circumstances are somewhat different but only because he perished and you survived. David, my father would have blamed himself for losing his family had he lived. But he would not have wasted his life as you do."
"And you know this how?" he asked, certain someone so young couldn't argue this particular point. After all, how could she?
"Because, my mother is his second wife."
David dropped his arms and stared at her. "What?"
"My father's first wife died in childbirth."
"But that isn't his fault. He didn't think that when he planted his seed his wife would die."
"And he didn't think a blizzard would blow through the mountains and you didn't think some base human would come in here and harm Sarah."
For a brief moment the anvil that rested upon his heart lightened. "Of course, I didn't think that. Had I known I would have taken her from here the first time she asked. Had I known she would still be alive as well as our child."
She wrapped her arms around her middle. Good Lord she looked so small, and vulnerable. "And had Pa known we'd all be back home, sitting around the fire while Ma read to us." She sniffled and set the back of her hands against her mouth. "My dear David, we cannot stop what we do not know is coming."
He faced her now, the gift she offered so tempting. But if he accepted it and forgave himself, then what?
Chapter 9
"I don't know if I can do this," Bobbie said as David helped her mount the shaggy chestnut gelding.
"You don't have to," he replied, swinging up in the saddle behind her. "I can take the locket and see if the boy in the portrait alongside you is your brother."
The warmth of his body had her relaxing just enough to ease the tremble in her jaw. "I won't truly believe it until I see for myself and that perplexes me."
He gently tapped the horse's flanks as they moved toward the woods. "How so?"
"In my mind I know that they are gone, but my heart rallies against the logic."
"That's normal," he replied, his warm breath smoky in the cold wintry air. "It'll all come too clear soon enough and you need to prepare yourself for how truly terrible the realization will be."
"How can I do that?"
His chest rattled with a heartfelt grunt. "I wish I could offer you a proper answer. But at least you'll have me to catch you if you fall."
She turned her head and stared up at him for the briefest of moments. His features stern, not giving her even the remotest sense of the warmth his words had offered. "Will I?"
His gaze grew almost soft with emotion. "No worries on that, all right Bobbie? I'm here and will be for as long as you need me."
The tiniest bit of relief touched her heart. "No trading post?"
He looked away, and without answering merely turned the horse into the woods and down a narrow track of snow that clung to the small path below. The beauty of the meandering trail was marred only by a single set of footprints.
Regardless of his silence, she took comfort in his innuendo, for God knew the cabin was the only place she wanted to be…in the warm little home with David. For despite his gruffness, she knew deep down in her heart that he would never do anything to her she didn't want him to. She swallowed hard. Lord help her, she did want him to do things to her. Things she knew were wrong.
Memories of his kiss flooded past her grief and a need for him spiraled up from deep within her. Her heart ached for his touch as much as her body.
Leaning against him, she took comfort in the support of his lean, strong body. Savored the warmth he provided.
"Does anything look familiar to you?" he asked his words coming in a raspy whisper.
"No. Not really for when I was lost all I saw was a fury of moonlit snow."
"We're coming up on the spot where I initially found Alfred. Poor beast was near frozen over there." He lifted his arm, and pointed toward a small clearing beneath scraggly pines.
"Thank you for seeing to him."
He lowered his arm and once again held her in his protective circle. "I'm not a monster," he said. "I'm just a heart broken drunk."
Without thought, she set her mittened hand atop his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I see so much more than that," she mumbled, hoping he didn't hear her.
"Don't Bobbie," he said and she removed her hand. "Don't make me into a hero. I'm not. I just did the right thing."
She stiffened wishing just once he would take a compliment instead of tossing them back at her with scorn. He was just so infuriating! She jerked forward, the protective circle broken. "I'm not making you into a hero, but you are the man who saved my life."
He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. "I am that man, but you owe me nothing. Remember that."
A chill raced through her at the heat of his breath and the iciness of his meaning. He still wanted her to be gone. Still wanted to drink himself into oblivion and to die alone in the cabin that Sarah haunted.
Her ire surged. Hadn't they made progress last night? Hadn't she gotten through to him? "Whether you realize it or not," she said evenly, "I owe you my life and I would like nothing more than to see your existence improved."
"Enough!" he shoute
d, his voice echoing through the eerie stillness of the snow shrouded wood. "You are powerless to help me. Know that now. The only way I will change is if I choose to. If that occurs, I will let you know. But do not hold your sweet breath for waiting."
"Stop the horse, please," she managed to say without yelling. He was too close, his nearness too much. She needed to get away from him. His words hurt her more than any others. Why did he garner so much power? Why did he matter so much? Worse, why did she matter so little to him?
"No."
"What?" she asked leaning back, hoping to knock his arrogant ass out of the saddle.
His face was hard, uncompromising. "I will not stop Ned until we reach Crocker's place. I will not stop until you are satisfied that your family is gone, just as I won't stop until you are safely placed in a comfortable life."
Pushing her away. Why was he always pushing her away? Rage sped to her cheeks and the stifling feel of his body so close, yet his heart so very far away, had her wanting to fall into the chill of the snow. "I need you to let me walk. I am so very tired of fighting with you. I don't want to be near you at the moment for your words are as cold and unfeeling as your heart."
"My words are not meant to hurt and believe me they are filled with feeling. But I’m being honest with you, Bobbie. I need you understand that letting me be is what you need to do. I am who I am, accept that and stop trying to change me."
"I want to help…"
"I know you do," he said, the edge leaving his voice. "But it's a fool's notion that you can fix what's irreparably broken."
Grief tugged at her heart. "I don't want to accept that you're broken."
He laughed, a dry, sorrowful laugh. "You're going to have to."
***
Reg Crocker's home rested past the far edge of the forest. It was similar to David's cabin, but the place was larger, with more than one window. The biggest difference however was the fact that David had pressed the back of his home into the shelter of a valley, where Reg's sat proudly atop a hill. With the protection of the woods gone, the wind whipped at Roberta's face, her hat and scarf providing little protection from the elements.
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