"No, of course not." And before she could move, he was by her side, slipping his arm around her waist, supporting her. Despite her better judgment, she leaned against him, begrudgingly glad for the help. Her legs quaked as she grasped at his jacket, hoping she wouldn't fall, because if she fell, she feared she would just keep falling and falling and falling…
He continued to hold her close and despite her discomfort at his proximity, she didn't have the fight in her to push him away. What was the matter with her? She couldn't tell what was up and what was down anymore.
"You shouldn't have come out here by yourself," he remarked, his voice soft with concern. "This is too much of a burden for you to solely carry."
"I am not alone," she said, more and more of her strength ebbing. But she knew it was a lie. She had been alone since she fell and lost consciousness. Even though David had been in the same room, he wasn't really there.
"No, you're not, you've got me. I admire your courage, you must know that."
"Thank you, but I need to see David," she whispered, no longer wanting his support. "I want to get him home."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Miss Roberta."
"What?" she struggled against his bothersome hold, her heart strumming hard against her ribs. "Why?"
"I had to knock him out to get him off of me…"
"Let me go" she shrieked. "He needs help. He's a sick man."
"Yes, he is," Reg said with a condescending nod. "Too sick for you to help."
She continued to resist his grasping fingers. "Let me go and see him. He saved my life Mr. Crocker. I owe him some form allegiance."
He sighed and stepped aside, releasing her. Relieved, Bobbie seized her freedom and stumbled out of the barn and into the brilliant white world. With her eyes burning from fatigue and tears, she glanced over her shoulder. What she saw had her stopping in her tracks. His face was battered, his split lip oozing with fresh, red blood.
"You owe him nothing," he said obviously ignoring her surprised expression. "He's not worthy."
Maybe he was right, but David was a known quantity. He wouldn't hold her against her will, invade her space or touch her unless she welcomed it. Despite the shock the day's events presented her, something deep down warned her against this man. Something she would not ignore.
Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder at the three forms lying just beyond the open barn door. "I belong with him, I know that or God would have sent me north to you instead of south to him.
"Don't be foolish," he said, his face flush as he obviously struggled to keep his composure. "Perhaps God wanted you here. Why else would I have been the one to find your family?"
She took a few steps away from him, yet he followed close behind. His expression spoke of his determination and frustration.
"Please, you're fine on your own. He is so lost."
His lips dipped into a sorrowful frown. "I know I cannot convince you. But promise one thing, Roberta."
She lifted her eyes to meet his intense gaze. "What's that?"
"That when he hurts you, breaks your sweet heart, that you'll come to me for help. I am not fine on my own. I am lonely here. I have much I want to share and I am certain you and I could do very well together."
Good Lord she didn't know how to respond to his request. He was handsome, by all accounts kind, but the simple truth was, she didn't like him and when he looked at her as he did now, she wanted nothing more than to hike her skirts and run.
"And if he insists on taking you to the trading post, please come here instead. The post is no place for a woman…especially one that looks and smells as sweet as you."
"I-I--"
"Please," he interrupted. "I won't sleep for worrying if you tell me no."
"Of course, I won’t tell you no. Options are good and I thank you for tending to my family until spring."
He bowed before her. "That, Miss Roberta, is my sincere pleasure. I only wish I had found them sooner, for that I am sorry."
"There is plenty of blame to go round, Mr. Crocker, but none lies at your feet."
She wasted no more time with him. Instead, she hurried toward the cabin, careful not to slip as she mounted the stairs and climbed up the porch. Apprehension dogged her heels as she pushed open the cabin door. What would she find? What fresh horror awaited her already blistering eyes?
Her heart flooded with relief upon seeing David sitting up, and cradling his head in cupped hands. "Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling by his side.
He looked at her through splayed fingers. "I'm a sorry excuse of a man."
She slid her hand around his shoulders. "No, you're not."
"Will you help me?"
Help him? Of course, she would help him. She would do anything for him. Didn't he know that? Hadn't she made that quite clear? She wanted to focus on him, to see him restored and to forget herself and her sadness for just a moment or two.
"I'm a bit dizzy from a good crack to my hard head," he mumbled. "I don't think I can stand on my own.
"I'll help you," she replied as disappointment strangled her moment of triumph. He didn't want her help with his life. Still, she would take solace in the fact that he wanted something from her other than her absence. Standing, she offered both her hands. He reached for her wrists and grabbing firmly the pair worked to move this mountain of a man.
Rising, he again grabbed his head, his body swaying. Without thought, she wrapped her arms around his waist and took pleasure in the way he leaned against her for support. Savored the feel of his body next to hers. It was so natural, so pleasurable to be near him. Why didn't he feel it too? Why was it Reg wanted her with an almost desperate need and she recoiled at the thought of him, whereas she welcomed any and all attention David offered.
"Will you help me get to Ned? I need to get home."
"Stay here," Reg said, blocking the doorway.
"No," David ground out. His body tensed beneath her touch. "I'll not turn my back on you again."
She flashed Reg a questioning glance. "What?"
"I was trying to come to you," David shouted. "The bastard stopped me with a teapot."
"Mr. Crocker!"
"You saw how he attacked me," he said, his face flushing with anger. "It was self-defense, I assure you…y-you can't possibly believe him over me. He's probably drunk for God sake!"
"Not today, I'm not." He swallowed hard before staring down at her. "Are you going to help me home or not?"
"What? You're not forcing her to go to the trading post?" Reg shouted, his voice rattled against the cabin walls. "Why the change?"
"You know why," David said, squaring his shoulders. She watched him bow up like a rooster about to fight another rooster. As big and strong as he was, he was in no condition for another round of cock fighting. Not when Reg hadn't been lost in a bottle for five years. "I can't trust you not to bother her."
"Bother her? I like her and if she likes me in return, what business is it of yours?"
At Reg's admission, a shiver of revulsion chased across her already exhausted body. She didn't like him for something deep inside warned against the man. Something she couldn't explain or ignore.
David teetered slightly and she increased her hold hoping to keep him from tottering over. "Do you like him?" David asked, suddenly glowering at her. "Do you want to stay with him? If you do, say so now and I'll leave on my own."
Heat sped to her cheeks. Why was he asking her these things with Reg looking on? She wanted to slink away and hide but instead she seized the moment hoping to get what she so desperately needed from him. "Is staying with you an option?" she pressed the matter, not wanting to stay but also not wanting to go where she wasn't wanted. "I don't want the threat of the trading post hanging over my head every time I do something that displeases you."
He kept his gazed pinned on her, his expression growing soft. "I ain't much, but if staying with me is what you want, I won't argue. I swore to keep you safe, that's what I want to do."
&nbs
p; "He wants you under his thumb, just as he wanted Sarah under his thumb." Reg's face grew dark as fresh blood slipped from his lip.
"I failed Sarah, I won't fail Bobbie, too," David vowed and leaning in he offered her the saddest of smiles. "Come home with me."
Despite knowing that his plea was more to keep her away from Reg than it was to keep her with him, she agreed. Every fiber in her body warned against staying with Reginald Crocker. She just wished she could figure out why. "All right, let's go home."
"You're going to be sorry, Miss Roberta," Reg said, stepping aside as they shuffled past. "He'll hurt you. I know you think you can save him, but you're wrong. He's going to hurt you. He's incapable of loving anyone but Sarah."
She didn't respond to his declaration, but deep in her heart she feared he was right. That no matter what sort of woman she was, she would always be in Sarah's shadow.
Chapter 11
The snow continued to fall, covering their footsteps as they left Reg's cabin and headed home. David rode behind her as he had on the way up, but instead of reining Ned toward home, he handed Bobbie the reins.
Was it evil of her to enjoy the feel of his arms around her waist? Wicked of her to savor his chin on her shoulder and his warm breath in her ear? This simple contact was what she needed, just to feel him close, someone she trusted, someone she longed for, someone she…
Her thoughts came to a sputtering halt. She almost allowed herself to think the unthinkable…someone she loved? That wasn't possible. They hadn't known one another long enough. The time they spent together had been difficult and when she needed him the most he pushed her away. Shouted obscenities at her and promised her nothing. How could she even conceive that she loved him? He was just what Reg had said, a drunkard. Just what David himself proclaimed, irreparably broken. So, why then did she want only to be with him? Why?
"I'm sorry Bobbie. I should have been there for you. I keep making the same mistakes." The sweet sound of his voice, the honestly of his apology and she realized that even if she didn't love him, she cared deeply and what he thought meant something to her.
"Well, I didn't fall, so I didn't need you to catch me."
"Was it your family?"
A sob caught in her throat. "Yes."
"What can I do?" He squeezed her a little harder and brushed a kiss across the side of her head.
"Nothing. Letting me come home instead of insisting I go to the post was exactly what I needed you to do." She swallowed her tears and nearly choked. Home? When did she start considering David's cabin as her home?
"I was being selfish. I've been on my own so long I forgot that relationships were give and take."
"Relationship?" He had given what they had between them status? My oh my, Reg Croker needed to knock him out more often. The anvil that rested upon her chest lightened just the littlest bit.
"You're the best friend I have. Hell, you're the only one who's persisted long enough to even get to me a little since Sarah died."
"You're all I've got, too," she said, allowing the tears she fought to fall and mingle with the snowflakes that constantly bombarded her face and gathered on her eyelashes.
"I don't know why you chose to come with me rather than stay with Reg, but thank you."
She was tempted to tell him how much Reg made her very skin crawl, but instead allowed the small kernel of jealousy to sit and fester. She didn't need for him to know that the post was a better fit than Crocker's place. And the sooner she got her family out of there the better.
"I owe you. You saved my hands and feet. You saved my life."
"Is that why you chose me?"
"No."
"Then why?" he pressed, his mouth so close to her ear that his breath sent a pleasing chill over her skin. "Tell me."
She reined Ned down the snow shrouded path and into the wood. "Why do you think, you silly man. I care about you."
He chuckled. "I care about you too. Unfortunately, it took Reg Crocker beating the hell out of my stubborn ass to see it."
"Well, perhaps we should have him over for rabbit stew sometime soon. Just to keep you in line." She would have laughed, but despite the small shard of delight that his admission allowed, she was far too sad to be happy.
With the wind blowing in her face, Bobbie urged Ned to go a bit faster. The snow was getting heavier and despite the fact that David was with her, the memories of getting lost in the wood were still fresh in her mind. All the trees looked same, the path all but obliterated by the large, fresh flakes. She could be going around in circles until doomsday and never even realize it.
The thought of being lost in the wilderness had her urging Ned to go faster. "Are we going the right way?" she asked, trying to keep the shrill sound of fear from her voice.
"Yes Bobbie, you're doing fine, and you're not going to get lost. If you dropped the reins Ned would take you home. Besides, I’m here. I can find the cabin blind drunk."
"Well," she grudgingly admitted. "I'm grateful to Ned, but I'd rather have you sober."
He shifted in the saddle and loosened his grip on her waist. "If we weren't having another damnable blizzard, I'd be heading straight to the trading post to replenish my stock. The only difference in my plan is you coming home with me rather than staying behind," he said with resignation.
Concern flared. "Don't you want to quit?"
"Want to? No, but considering I have not so much as a drop left in the cabin, you're going to get to see me at my worst."
"You've certainly seen me at mine," she replied, wondering just what it would be like to have him sober for more than a couple of hours during the day. "And I don't know how long I can go on without crying, or screaming or both."
"As I see it, I reckon we'll just have to be miserable together."
***
Truer words were never spoken. Without a bottle in his hands, David didn't know what to do with himself. And damnation why did his hands tremble so much? And the thirst…well it was unquenchable. Three blasted days without the drink and he was a wreck, a shattered, shaking, miserable wreck.
Sitting before the fire, he stared into the bright orange flames, wondering if maybe he'd missed a bottle somewhere. Were there a few drops left in his flask? He sprang to his feet and without grabbing his coat rushed toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Bobbie asked from the pantry. She was busying herself with dinner but the aromas that came from the kitchen, of stewed canned tomatoes and spice didn't interest him, unless he had it with a mouthful of whiskey to chase down the food.
"I-I left something in the barn," he shouted over his shoulder. "I won't be a minute."
"You're not taking your coat?" she asked, coming toward him, her hands twisting in her apron, her red-rimmed eyes watching him with worry
"I won't be a moment, I-I know what I'm looking for."
He could see by her expression that she was dubious of his motivation and she should be. He needed to see if his flask held even the smallest taste and damnation, he hated himself for it.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I've not come across any whiskey in the pantry. Are you hoping to find a bottle in Ned's grain?"
Shame washed over him. Was his thirst that obvious? "I need a drink, Bobbie."
"I found some coffee, tea, even some sugar to sweeten it."
Anger surged through him. "I don't want coffee." He marched toward the door and set his hand atop the handle to open it. Making certain his back was to her, he grumbled loud enough for her to hear, "Don't watch me. Don't judge me. This is why I wasn't sure this could work."
She came up on him, wrapping her long fingers around his arm, her touch on his skin electric. He stopped, his hand still on the door latch. "Let me help you."
"How?" he pleaded. "This is something that no one can help me with. It's something that I have to do on my own and God damn it, I don't want to." He leaned his head against the closed door. "I want to fall into a bottle and never come out."
"
Want? You want to live what's left of your life inebriated?"
He turned toward her and she wrapped her warm arms around him and pressed her supple body into his. He didn't move, just stood there. Did he truly want to be drunk every day for the rest of his life? Did he?
"No. But I want to feel normal and I've been drunk so long, that it is normal." Despite her intention to comfort, her touch sent his overtaxed nerves into overload. Christ, he felt as though his skin were on fire.
"You can give it up. I'll help you. I'm right here."
"I appreciate that, sweetheart, but I can't do it." He dragged his tongue across his dry lips. "I gotta get out of here."
Her hold tightened. "No! You have to stay and fight this."
He struggled to get away from her, pushing her back. She was relentless, her hands everywhere at once as she grabbed hold and clutched the collar of his shirt. She tugged at him, the fabric ripping as buttons gave way.
Damnation, why didn't she just let him go? What did he matter to her anyway? It was simply gratitude that had her clinging to him, not any real affection.
Her cheeks darkened and her eyes flashed and instead of releasing him, she wrapped her arms tight around him. "David you can do this."
He temporarily ceased his fight. "Bobbie please. Maybe I can wean myself off the stuff but I can't just quit. It's been a part of my daily existence for five damned years." He slowly lifted his arms and without thought, he wrapped them about her and really held her as a man should hold a woman. God it felt good, giving and taking what he needed from someone. And she fit so beautifully against him, her sweet curves melding to his hard, muscular frame.
"I know it's not easy, but you can do it. I know you can." She rested her head against his bare chest, her warm breath fanning across flesh thirsty for contact.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her divine touch. His racing heartbeat slowed to a bearable speed and despite his guilty conscious, blood shot to his cock, and erect, it pressed against her. Surely, that would get her off him and he could escape into the night in a mad hunt for a single drop.
Harris Channing Page 10