Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

Hunter shook his head. This fever was making him loopy. He’d just met her, for Pete’s sake. He shouldn’t even be considering kissing her, let alone love. If he kept it up, he’d be writing sonnets or sappy romance novels.

  Get it together, Commander, he chided himself.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “It could be the enzymes in the saliva that help break down the herbs to make them work better.”

  Viola peeked up at him in wariness. “What?”

  “They’ve discovered that saliva has different components in it that help us digest food.” Hunter gestured toward the poultice. “Maybe those components breakdown the herb in a way that helps it do the job.”

  “Maybe.” Viola shrugged, still not looking at him.

  “Listen, Viola …” Hunter sighed. “I’m sorry I acted like a city dandy. I mean, the things I’ve had to do and places I’ve been, a little spit should’ve never affected me. This fever and pain and crazy circumstance has me a little freaked out and out of sorts. I should know better than to question your expertise in this situation. I was trained better, and I apologize.”

  Viola scrutinized his face for a long time. Her shoulders relaxed, and she exhaled. “This situation is crazy. I’ll give you that. You’ve had such amazing strength through all of this. I know if I was in your place I’d be more than a little—how did you put it?—freaked out?” Hunter nodded and the tightness in his chest loosened as she continued. “I forgive you, and I pray that you forgive me too for my harshness and unkind attitude.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Hunter answered. “I was out of line. Sometimes us grunts need a little yelling at to get us to listen. I blame it on basic, since we’re conditioned with shouting.”

  Viola looked confused. Confused and adorable. Hunter shook his head.

  “Never mind,” he said as he closed his eyes. “I believe I’ll have a lot of time to explain while I recover. For now, I’m beat. Thank you, Viola, for taking care of me.”

  “You’re welcome, Hunter,” Viola whispered softly.

  With her sweet voice lingering in his ears, he drifted off to sleep.

  Linc Sweeney sat atop his mangy horse and examined the lush green meadow below that held his dreams. Well, if he was being honest with himself, his dreams were held in the elusive gold mine owned by the uptight family who lived in the solid cabin nestled in the meadow below. He was positive that cabin wouldn’t let the harsh Rocky Mountain wind sweep through in the winter like the shack him and his brothers built did. Linc shivered in remembrance.

  He had spent months, no years, plotting and planning how to figure out the location of the Thomas’ mine. He knew they owned one. Linc had figured out that little doozy right quick, being the intelligent man he was. The old man, Joseph, and his son, Orlando, used gold too often at the trading post and bought too many supplies and mail-order goods on trapping alone, especially now that trapping in the area had pretty near played out. After he and his brothers had spent a miserable first winter and bust of a summer mining, Linc had started trying to figure out how to get his hands on the Thomas’ gold.

  Linc and his brothers scouted around everywhere they knew the Thomas men frequented. They trailed and spied on them more hours than he’d care to dwell on. When his youngest brother William whined about it being easier and more profitable to trap or go find another place to mine, Linc quickly beat that stupid logic out of him. It was too bad their pa had gotten himself shot when William was so young, otherwise he wouldn’t be such a weakling. Linc had tried to do right by his brother, but the heavy hand of a brother just didn’t produce the same caliber of citizen as the heavy hand of a father. So when William got to bellyaching, Linc would have to help him remember that the Sweeneys didn’t whine.

  Sure, if they thought with their stomachs, him and his brothers could spend their time hunting up some pelts or go mine down Silverton way, but that wasn’t thinking long term. He knew his middle brother Robert doubted, but acknowledged in his quiet way that Linc was right. Which was good, since there was no way he could beat sense into the Goliath.

  Linc wasn’t dumb, though, and saw the determination wavering in Robert’s resolution, so Linc upped the ante. This last winter when Joseph left the cabin for his trapping grounds, the Sweeneys followed, not to spy, but to stalk. They’d waited for the opportune time and caught Joseph unawares, which proved more difficult than Linc anticipated since the geezer was a true mountain man. Linc rubbed his side where Joseph’s knife had gone before they overpowered him. Three against one and the old coot still injured all three of them.

  Linc’s plan hadn’t worked out like he expected, though. Instead of giving in and telling them where the mine was, the idiot allowed Linc to beat and torture him until he succumbed to his injuries. If Linc was honest with himself, and he always was, he may have gotten a little out of control when the old man hadn’t given in.

  Linc loved the energy and power that flowed through him when he let his rage go. It fed him, exhilarated him, and frightened him enough that he kept it reined in most times. He knew the rage came straight from the devil, but he figured that him and the devil were on closer terms than him and God, so if he accepted the gift offered, what was it between friends?

  But that gift held consequences. When he killed Joseph Thomas, his plans changed. Following Orlando proved pointless. That man was even savvier than his pa, which was why Linc now stared down upon a sturdy cabin in a lush green meadow.

  Linc’s dreams may be in the gold mine, but his fantasies, the ones that kept him up at night in rapturous agony, were of Viola Thomas, the beautiful blonde vixen born to be his wife. He wiped his mouth in anticipation of the passion he imagined having with her. All those nights in the woods and in his filthy shack that he’d spent fantasizing about her would become a reality by the end of the day. Linc praised the powers that be that Colorado didn’t require a couple to stand before a preacher to get married. A common law marriage was perfect for him, better than perfect since it meant they could start their wedded bliss tonight without having to travel days to find a preacher.

  Once Linc told Viola the unfortunate news of her father and brother dying, she’d fall into his arms in grief. Though truthfully, Orlando wasn’t dead … yet. Sure, she ignored his advances in the past. Linc was convinced her pa had talked bad about him, and Viola, being a dutiful female, wouldn’t defy her father. Now with her pa dead and out of the way, his proposal of marriage would be both logical and heroic, to his way of thinking. His brothers could fight over the other sister. Shoot, they could share her, for all he cared.

  Linc smiled in glee and turned to his brothers. “Come on boys, our future awaits.”

  In a few short moments, Viola would be his. The mine would be his. All the torment and agony of the last two years would be over, and his plans fulfilled.

  Chapter 8

  Viola chopped herbs to go into the hearty stew she was making. Hunter was still sleeping, his fever no longer so high it required constant attention, which gave her time to make a good meal and get to the chores she’d missed yesterday. Her first focus of the morning was the meal. Hunter would be hungry when he woke up, and she wanted to be ready.

  Viola paused in her chopping, remembering the sweet murmurings Hunter had said as she’d bawled like a newborn lamb on his shoulder. She placed her hands on her cheeks as they heated in embarrassment. How mortifying that tears ran from her eyes like a snowmelt stream, fast and erratic when this strong man who, when conscious, fought against his intense pain with barely a grunt.

  Hunter must think her some soft-witted, nonsense girl who couldn’t handle a thing. Well, she’d just have to prove that she wasn’t. For goodness’ sake, she’d only cried a handful of times since turning fourteen, at the death of her mother and her two baby siblings being born. She could only explain her momentary lapse in sensibility at being overwhelmed. They had copious amounts of situations they were dealing with at the moment, not including Hunter’s surprise
visit. Now that she’d purged herself of more tears than necessary, she could continue in a more fitting manner.

  Though, if she were truthful, the tears generated a pleasant side effect. She never imagined it would feel so good being held and comforted by a man. Sure, Pa would give out hugs and affection to his daughters in abundance, and Orlando was gentle and compassionate when one of them became upset. Yet Viola felt cherished and protected when Hunter held her close, whispering in her ear and stroking her hair, which was complete hogwash since she’d barely met the man, and he’d been mostly unconscious during their time together. Still, she’d relished the sentiment, God forgive her, and couldn’t help imagining what it would be like being cherished by this man from the future.

  A hard knock on the door brought her out of her ridiculous musings. Instantaneous awareness focused her thoughts. For shame, her distraction had come at the cost of her diligence, allowing someone to walk right up to the door without her even noticing. Of course, it could be Trapper Dan. He hadn’t come through yet for his spring visit. Viola stilled her breathing and thoughts, and listened. Three horses snorted outside and separate feet shuffled at the door. Definitely not Trapper Dan. She grabbed the shotgun from its rack, and keeping the gun hidden, she cracked the door and peered out.

  An involuntary shiver of dread raced up her body as she stared into Linc Sweeney’s cold, calculating eyes. His two brothers were standing a bit to the side of Linc looking half-starved and rugged, as if the mountain had taken more than its due out of them. She turned her attention back to Linc and suppressed the desire to slam the door in his gleaming face.

  “Hello Linc, Robert, William,” she said as she nodded to each, hoping to warn her sister, who Viola had heard coming in from the bedroom.

  “Good morning, my sweet Viola,” Linc crooned, his voice slithering down her back like a snake.

  Viola swallowed the breakfast that rose involuntary to her throat. While his brothers seemed to be decent, Linc had always rubbed her wrong, always made her skin twitch as if something slimy crawled up it. Why was he here in the first place? How would she ever convince Linc to leave without being downright rude?

  “We come bearing news. Can we come in?” the strange voice asked, reminding Hunter of a jackal, high and a bit unbalanced.

  Hunter had pushed himself into a sitting position after the hard knock had jarred him awake. Now, after hearing that slimy voice call Viola his sweet and expressing his wish to come in, Hunter’s consciousness came to complete awareness. Something wasn’t right. He could tell by the tension in Viola’s shoulders the instant she’d opened the door and the shiver he’d seen course through her body. Beatrice confirmed his suspicions when she came rushing in silently with her gun drawn and whispered, “Sweeneys!”

  He motioned her over. “Quick! Help me get a shirt on.”

  She nodded and grabbed a buckskin shirt from a pile stacked on the table. Roughly, with none of the finesse of her sister, she yanked the shirt over his head. He swallowed the shout of pain that threatened to escape and shook his head to push back the dark tunnel that appeared.

  “Tell me the situation, fast,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She nodded and leaned close to whisper. “Three brothers, mean as sin and as desperate as an old bear with no teeth. The oldest, Linc, is always leering at Viola like she’s the last piece of Christmas pie.”

  “Can you get to the barn without being seen or heard?” Hunter asked as he took his sidearm from his concealed holster in his pants and checked the load.

  As Beatrice shook her head, he fired off another question. “The side of the house?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “Good,” Hunter answered. “Go and wait on the side of the house. Don’t show yourself until I signal you to. And take another gun if possible.”

  With a quick nod of her head, Beatrice disappeared through the bedroom. He offered up a silent prayer. Lord, I know I screwed up before. Please be with us now and protect us. I’m weak and not up to this right now, but You say, when I’m weak, You are strong. I guess I’m relying on that promise, Lord.

  “Can we come in?” The man asked a second time, his voice holding a thread of annoyance.

  As Hunter hobbled toward the door, Viola glanced back while she answered the snake’s question. Surprise overrode the fear coming from her eyes when she saw Hunter coming. He picked up the pace.

  “Linc, I’m sorry. I just can’t let you in right now,” Viola said, turning her response to the intruders. “I could pack up a sack of food for you, if you’ll wait outside.”

  “I don’t want a sack of food.” The man spat with barely contained anger. “I told you, we have news, and I intend to share it. So put to practice your good Christian hospitality, and let us in.”

  Hunter reached Viola and eased the shotgun out of her hand. She shook her head, but Hunter chose to believe she directed it at the jackal at the door instead of Hunter. Moving up beside her, he stayed hidden behind the door.

  Hunter couldn’t stay upright without Viola’s help, but he didn’t want the men on the other side of the door to think him weak. “Hold me up?” he whispered to Viola, grinning when she responded with a slight nod.

  He tucked Viola’s arm around his back and opened the door, keeping the shotgun hidden behind it and his sidearm resting upon Viola’s upper back. There before him were three rough-looking men. While the man up front had a face that appeared hard and angry at the world, the other two just looked weary. All three were dressed in threadbare clothes, their hair and beards long and scraggly. The one standing closest had a crazed look about him that gave even Hunter chills.

  Taking on the calm control that got him through hundreds of missions, he said, “I believe the lady said you couldn’t come in.”

  Shocked anger coursed from the man as he spat out. “Just who the hell are you?”

  “A friend of the family. Well a bit more than that, huh honey?” Hunter answered casually, smiling down at Viola, her eyes widening as he quickly winked at her and turned his attention back to the men. “Vi’s not up for entertaining today, so you boys best be heading on out.”

  “I don’t care if she’s up for entertaining or not! I came to give her news, and I’m gonna do it,” Linc seethed.

  “By all means,” Hunter replied. “Share your news, but you aren’t forcing your presence where it’s not welcome, friend.”

  “I’m not your friend, you fool,” Linc exploded, “and I expect Viola’d want to be sittin’ down when I give her the news her pa and brother are dead.”

  Viola sucked in a breath and leaned more into Hunter. Linc wore an expression of both gloating and loathing. The two brothers shuffled a bit behind Linc. The youngest one appeared nervous as a cat getting ready for a bath. Hunter couldn’t place the emotion that crossed the taller brother’s face before returning to the blank, stoic stare he’d worn so far.

  Hunter narrowed his eyes and with a cold voice he said, “You’ve delivered your news, now I suggest you head out.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Linc countered with contempt. “Viola and that sister of hers will need protection now with their menfolk gone, and I don’t expect some dandy of a man is going to be up to it.”

  Hunter tightened at the dig. If he wanted, he could break this little weasel in two, then dispatch the two brothers. The bigger one might give him some trouble. He was taller than Hunter’s own six-two frame by at least three inches and built like a WWF wrestler, but Hunter had taken down men bigger with more training than some back hills mountain man. But now wasn’t the time to get his ego up. He didn’t want this to turn ugly, what with the ladies in the middle of it and him busted up.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Hunter replied with a tilt of his head. “What do you think, sweetheart? Think you’re safe with me?”

  He glanced down and watched as a beautiful blush rushed upon Viola’s face. Instead of bowing her head shyly, she gazed up at him in adoration. Oh man, he was in tr
ouble. He beamed big as he gazed down at her.

  “I believe I’m as safe as a body can get,” she said, her lips lifting coyly back.

  “Sweetheart!? She’s … but … I,” Linc stuttered, drawing Hunter’s attention back away from Viola’s beautiful face. “She’s mine, and no two-bit newcomer is going to take her from me,” Linc said as he reached for his holster.

  Before he could even reach his gun, Viola stepped into Hunter’s side, wrapping her arm firmly around him. She didn’t hide her face in his chest like he expected, but gave him the stability he needed to stand and defend against the men. Hunter cheered inwardly at her grit.

  Hunter brought the sidearm over her shoulder pointing it at Linc’s chest where he stood in front of them. Hunter swung the door open and aimed the shotgun at the brothers standing behind and off to one side. Everything froze in suspended motion. Linc glanced from the cocked and ready weapons to his brothers to Viola, indecision warring on his face.

  “Well, shoot. You see here, Sweeney, I may be a newcomer, but I’m well accustomed to protecting what’s mine and what’s precious to me.”

  “Viola’s mine,” Linc said in suppressed rage. “I’ve worked too long and hard to give her over to some passerby. I don’t even mind used goods, as long as I get what’s coming to me.”

  “I’ve never been yours, Linc. Never,” Viola said, anger lacing her voice with strength.

  “You’ve gone too far,” Hunter replied, his voice hard as steel. “Viola is a lady, and you will remember to treat her as such. You and your brothers will leave. Now.”

  “Leave it for another day.” The tall brother’s voice rumbled, his hands held out casually from his side in surrender.

  Linc stared at Hunter in an open challenge, his face frozen in a cold and harsh expression. Hunter had seen lots of anger in fighting against those who threatened freedom, but he’d rarely seen such demonic rage as what played upon Linc’s face. Hunter silently prayed for God’s protection even more fervently.