Once A Bandit: A Novella

by Diana Bold

  When he returned to her side, he propped several pillows behind her back, then brushed a few strands of sweat-dampened hair from her eyes. “You’re almost there. On the next contraction, I need you to push. Push with all your might.”

  She shook her head, obviously in a panic. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You can,” he told her with as much confidence as he could muster. “I’m right here beside you. We’ll do it together.”

  She subsided against the pillows, her blue eyes flooding with tears. “Together?” Her soft voice held a heartbreaking combination of hope and vulnerability.

  “Yeah, darlin’. Together.” He didn’t know what he’d done to hurt her, but he was determined to do better. He’d almost died yesterday, but for some reason he’d been given a second chance, and he didn’t intend to waste it.

  Chapter Two

  Susannah brought her tiny daughter to her breast, smiling tiredly as the infant latched on and began sucking greedily. She still couldn’t quite comprehend that both she and her child had survived the experience.

  Gratitude swelled within her, and she glanced over her shoulder at the man who slept peacefully beside her. She owed it all to him. He’d been so gentle, so considerate, coaxing her through the delivery as though he’d done it a dozen times before.

  Even though she knew his head still pained him terribly, he’d stayed by her side during the whole thing. When it was over, he’d cleaned her and the child up, then tucked them both into bed. He’d brought in more firewood and stoked the fire. As she’d drifted off into an exhausted sleep, he’d still been tidying up the mess.

  She’d woken a few hours later to find he’d crawled into bed with her, pulling her against him spoon-fashion, one arm wrapped around her waist. She’d frozen, terrified to find herself in such an intimate embrace with a man she hardly knew.

  But as the moments ticked slowly by and his soft, even breaths stirred her hair, she allowed herself to relax. For the first time since Caleb had left her, she’d felt warm. Safe.

  Instead of pulling away, she remained in his arms, drifting in an exhausted, peaceful half-sleep, wishing she could stay there forever.

  Now, however, she was wide awake and trying to make sense of it all. No man she’d ever known would have gone to such lengths for a woman he’d just met.

  Caleb certainly wouldn’t have. In fact, she had the sinking feeling if it had been Caleb here, instead of the stranger, he wouldn’t have treated her with half as much tenderness. He probably would have gotten stinking drunk and yelled at her to keep quiet.

  The baby’s pulls became less and less frequent, until at last she let Susannah’s nipple slip free of her slack little mouth and fell back asleep. Susannah brushed the downy blond hair on her daughter’s head with a hesitant fingertip, remembering how the stranger had cradled the baby to his chest, the look of awe and wonder on his face.

  Almost as if he thought the baby was his…

  Oh, no. He’d said the blow to his head had erased his memory. He couldn’t remember anything, not even his own name. So what was he to think when he woke up and found a hugely pregnant woman struggling to give birth on the floor beside him?

  At first, she’d feared him a bad man—an outlaw or worse. However, his actions during the last few hours seemed to paint him as something far more. When everything else had been stripped from him, his kindness and decency remained.

  When he woke up, she had to tell him the truth. She had to tell him he wasn’t her husband, nor the baby’s father. She had to thank him for his help, and then watch him walk away.

  A fresh rush of tears stung her eyes. Ridiculous, to want him to stay, when she didn’t even know his name. But she did. Oh, how she did.

  The long, empty days of winter stretched before her, cold and terrifying. The greatest worry—that of giving birth alone—was past, but there were a million more things to lose sleep over. How would she do all the chores with a tiny baby on her hip? How would they stay warm? What would they eat?

  The stranger had already proven himself kind and capable. What she wouldn’t give to be able to lean upon him during the difficult days to come.

  He shifted beside her, his large hand splayed against her newly flat tummy, one of his hair-roughened calves wedged between hers. She closed her eyes, swallowing convulsively as she allowed herself to enjoy his warmth and strength.

  She’d been lonely for so long.

  What if she continued to let him think he belonged here? She wouldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t do that. But if he kept trying to provide for them, kept treating her with such tenderness, she’d be stupid to tell him the truth.

  * * * * *

  He threw another log on the fire, dancing around a bit as his bare feet made contact with the plank floor. Christ, it was cold. The chill in the air had driven him from the warmth of Susannah’s soft body.

  Though the baby was snuggled safely in the crook of Susannah’s arm, he’d worried her sweet little face would get cold. He’d obviously been a piss poor example of a husband so far, given the sorry state of the hovel his family lived in, but he was determined to do better now that their child had come.

  A daughter.

  The prospect both thrilled and terrified him. How could he raise a child when he couldn’t even remember his damned name?

  Caleb. Susannah had called him that, but he had no idea what his surname was. He had no idea how long he’d been married to Susannah. His head throbbed with renewed pain as thoughts swirled through his mind in a maelstrom of doubt and fear.

  He felt totally unprepared for this life. Somehow, he sensed he’d never been a family man. Never been anything good or decent. In fact, he had a strong feeling he’d been in trouble with the law in the past.

  His stomach growled, and he opened up the sideboard, perusing the meager contents with a sinking heart. With winter upon them, this cupboard should be bursting at the seams. He doubted they’d make it more than a few weeks on the paltry dry goods that sparsely lined the shelves.

  His gaze fell upon a hand mirror, and he picked it up, looking upon his reflection with a mix of fear and hope. Perhaps he just needed to see his own face for his memory to come back. To his dismay, the man who stared back at him was a stranger. Blond hair, green eyes. Handsome, he thought dispassionately, as he tilted the mirror to examine the ugly wound at his temple.

  Frowning, he put the mirror down, then took a few crackers from the cupboard and washed them down with some stale water from the bucket near the fireplace. Taking a seat in one of the cabin’s two chairs, he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and started going through his pockets, hoping for something that would shed some light on his identity.

  To his stunned surprise, he found a thick roll of cash. He counted over seven hundred dollars, more than enough to supply his little family for the winter. Had he been headed into town to do so when he’d been shot? And if so, why had his attackers left the money behind?

  Pushing that disturbing thought aside, he focused on the fact that he could provide for his wife and daughter after all. In a few days, when his head stopped throbbing so terribly, he’d ride into the nearest town, wherever that was, and buy some supplies.

  Perhaps while he was there, he’d ask around, try to find out who had done this to him and why. He hated the thought of unknown enemies. He’d have to be careful, not trust anybody,

  His gaze fell upon Susannah, who still slept peacefully in the lumpy bed, their tiny daughter cradled against one full, white breast. It seemed impossible that he’d made love to her, lost himself in that soft, lovely body, for months, if not years, and now couldn’t remember a damned thing about her.

  Did they have a good marriage? Her wary fearfulness made him doubt it. He didn’t think he had it in him to mistreat a woman, but he could be wrong. Hell, he didn’t even recognize his own face in the mirror.

  When next he glanced in Susannah’s direction, he found her awake. She’d drawn the covers up over h
er bare breasts, but her blue eyes were sultry with sleep. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  “I should be asking you that,” he told her with a wry grin. “I could never have done what you just did. If giving birth were left to men, no doubt the human race would die out completely.”

  She gazed down at the baby with heartbreaking tenderness. “She was worth it.”

  “What will you name her?” He crossed the room to sit down on the bed by her hip, so he could touch the baby’s soft hair with a gentle fingertip. Blond. Like his. “She’s so beautiful. Like her mother.”

  Her pale cheeks flushed with embarrassed color. “I haven’t decided on a name yet. Any ideas?”

  “Carrie.” The name escaped his lips without thought. A rush of longing swept through him. Someone named Carrie had been important to him. He was certain of it. He wondered if she’d been his mother, his sister, or perhaps a former lover?

  “Carrie,” Susannah repeated, offering him a shy smile. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

  “I don’t know where the name came from,” he admitted, knowing he needed to tread carefully. “Do you know? Was it my mother’s name perhaps?”

  She shook her head, a strange, wary look in her eyes. “You still don’t remember anything?”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’. I know how frustrating it must be for you, but I can’t remember a damned thing. Not you, not the years we’ve spent together.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, as though measuring her words. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you mention anyone named Carrie.”

  He sighed and pressed a hand to his aching temple. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get the memories back.”

  “Give it time,” she urged. “Perhaps everything will return to you once the pain and swelling goes away.”

  “Christ, I hope so.” He lifted the covers and slid beneath them, needing to lie down again. His head was killing him, and maybe she was right. Maybe he just needed to give it some more time.

  As he rested his head on the soft pillow, Susannah reached out and stroked his forehead with her gentle fingertips. “Thank you for everything you did. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here. It was scary enough even though you were.”

  “You would have been fine,” he murmured, relaxing beneath her tender touch. “You’re stronger than you think, Susannah. I don’t know much, but I know that.”

  She caught her breath and started to withdraw her hand, but he captured it in his, pressing her fingertips back against his forehead. “Don’t stop. Please. Your touch lessens the pain.”

  “Then of course I’ll touch you,” she whispered. “Here, just let me move the baby.” She shifted position, so the baby was on the other side of her, and went to work on his head in earnest, using both hands to massage his forehead and temples.

  “I love your hair,” she whispered. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you. The color is like spun gold.”

  “You called me Caleb before. What’s our last name?”

  His words seemed to upset her. “Did I call you Caleb? I was in so much pain. I don’t remember.” She shook her head, tears filling her lovely blue eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to confuse you.”

  “Is that my name, darlin’?” he asked softly. “Am I your husband?”

  She pressed her lips to his cheek with breathtaking tenderness. “Do you want to be?”

  The way she phrased her answer disturbed him. Something was very wrong here. He feared he’d hurt her terribly in the past. Had he abandoned her? Left her here to fend for herself? She seemed to be giving him a second chance, one he probably didn’t deserve.

  “Of course I do,” he whispered. “If you let me stay, I promise I’ll do everything I can to prove myself worthy.”

  “You can stay as long as you want,” she promised, her voice choked with emotion. “You can stay forever, Caleb. Caleb Barrett.”

  Caleb Barrett.

  He tested the name a few times in his head, but it still didn’t ring any bells. “Can you tell me more? How long have we known each other? How long have we been married? Where the hell are we, for that matter? And why is this place built so shabbily? It doesn’t seem like me.”

  She was silent for a moment, then cleared her throat. “We’re about twenty miles west of a town called Pueblo, in the Colorado Territory. You didn’t build this house. You won it in a game of cards.”

  Her momentary hesitation set off even more alarms in his brain. She’d answered only half his questions, and he sensed she didn’t want to tell him anything about their relationship. She was holding back for some reason. But why? Was she simply annoyed that he couldn’t remember their life together, or was she hiding something?

  “I’m a gambler?” He couldn’t believe he’d be stupid enough to try to raise a family without a steady source of income.

  Her hands stilled. “Why don’t you just try to rest? I don’t want to upset you.”

  He frowned, but closed his eyes, trying to do as she’d suggested. His head still pounded unmercifully, and perhaps she was right. Perhaps he didn’t really want to know the truth.

  Chapter Three

  Warmed by a roaring fire, Susannah rocked Carrie as she stared out the window at the beautiful stranger chopping wood outside. The weather had warmed up and he’d taken off his shirt despite the slight chill in the air. With each swing of the axe, his muscles flexed and stretched with elegant efficiency.

  Six days had passed since Carrie’s birth. Each morning, she held her breath, afraid his memories had returned while he slept, but so far they had not. The relief that swept through her each time he sadly shook his head shamed her.

  She shouldn’t be doing this. She should tell him the truth, so he’d quit looking to her for answers, quit trying to remember a life that didn’t exist. She was wrong and selfish to keep him here…

  Her thoughts trailed off as he paused in his labors. He leaned on the axe handle and took a deep swig of water. Long buried desire stirred within her. The strong column of his throat moved as he swallowed, drawing her interested gaze. How could she let him go?

  He’d chopped a mountain of firewood, enough to keep the cabin warm for months. He’d filled in the cracks between the rough-hewn logs, eliminating most of the drafts that had plagued her during the fall. He’d also gone hunting yesterday afternoon, returning with a skinned rabbit, which currently simmered in a savory stew over the fire.

  Every time she turned around, he was doing something to make her life easier, something to keep her and Carrie safe. She shuddered to think what the last few days would have been like without him.

  As she watched, he put aside the tin cup and slipped his shirt back on, then neatly stacked the last few logs he’d split. Excitement bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She smoothed her hand over her hair and self-consciously straightened her bodice.

  Moments later, the cabin door opened, letting in a swirl of chill air. He closed it quickly, slipping off his boots in the doorway so he wouldn’t traipse mud across the floor. His innate courtesy never ceased to surprise her.

  Padding toward her on stocking feet, he leaned down to brush his lips to Carrie’s downy forehead. “How’s my little princess?”

  Tears stung Susannah’s eyes at his gentle tone. Even if Caleb had stuck around long enough to see his daughter born, he’d never have treated her so tenderly.

  Carrie deserved a daddy like this man. Every little girl did.

  “She’s just finished eating,” she murmured, trying to keep the tremulous emotion from her voice. “Hopefully she’ll sleep for a while so we can do the same.”

  “Here, I’ll put her down for you.” He gathered the baby carefully against his chest and moved slowly toward the bed. “I can’t get over how tiny she is,” he whispered reverently as he gazed down at Carrie’s sleeping face. “How perfect.” They shared a private smile, more intimate than anything she’d ever known with Caleb.

>   “Are you hungry?” she asked, rising to stir the pot of stew. She’d managed to find a few potatoes and one shriveled onion in the root cellar. He’d been taking care of them so well; she just wanted to do whatever she could to take care of him in return.

  “Starved.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Smells wonderful, darlin’.”

  She allowed herself to lean against him, sighing in perfect contentment. He smelled so good; clean male sweat and pine. His arms tightened, and he bent his face to the curve of her neck. She shivered as his lips coasted across her throat in a gentle kiss.

  No man had ever made her feel the way he did.

  “I wish I could remember a lot of things, but mostly I want to remember making love to you.” As he spoke, he turned her in his arms, taking the spoon from her numb fingers and returning it to the pot. “All day, I’ve been thinking about coming in here and kissing you.”

  “I’d like that,” she whispered, unable to resist the sexy gleam in his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

  He grinned, as though she’d just granted him a special gift. Then all the humor faded from his handsome face, and he lowered his beautiful mouth to hers in a sweet, searching kiss. His lips were warm, and softer than she’d expected, so tender tears stung her eyes.

  After a few moments of gentle exploration, he made a rough sound in the back of his throat and tightened his arms, crushing her against his chest as he deepened the kiss. She gladly opened for him, drowning in his taste and heat.

  At long last he pulled away, taking a step back as he ran a trembling hand through his golden hair. A huge, hard arousal tented his trousers, and she didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified by the sight.

  “Damn,” he murmured, giving her that charming half-smile. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten that.”

  He adjusted himself with a wink, then turned away and strode toward the washbasin, stripping off his shirt and wiping down his chest and face with a damp cloth. She watched him for a moment, still flushed with arousal, confused by his restraint. Caleb would never have denied himself in such a way, despite the fact that she had given birth less than a week ago.