Viola slammed the pan of eggs onto the cooler spot of the stove to keep them warm as she heard Hunter mumble something ridiculous about helping gather eggs. Which was fine by her since she didn’t want him in the cabin with her anyways. Which was a complete and utter lie. She wanted him to be in here with her, forever. Her eyes teared up again, and without him watching, she allowed one to slip down her cheek. She harshly wiped it away with one hand while flipping the ham with the other.
Viola was being ridiculous. She understood his desire to return to his time and family. If she was in his position, she knew she’d do the same thing to get to her family. So why did his request to go back to where they found him stab through her heart so viciously and rip it from her chest? She imagined if she glanced down at her dress there’d be a gaping hole where her heart had been.
She had known this day would come. Of course he’d have to try to get home, but couldn’t he have the decency to wait a little longer so she might squirrel away more memories of him to lock in her mind for the loneliness the mountains brought? The loneliness that now bore down like never before and threatened to consume her before he’d even left. She moved the ham to the back of the stove with a shove and started wrapping jerky and leftover biscuits for the trail, her motions shaky with anger and sorrow. She hoped he was as miserable as she was, that he’d long for her like she knew she’d long for him when he disappeared. Would serve him right for putting her through this misery.
Viola stilled, sucking in a shocked breath. How could she possibly want him to hurt this way? What a selfish, petty creature she was turning out to be. She pulled out a chair from the table and sat in it hard. The anger that had moments ago consumed her, seeped through her feet into the rough floor below.
“Oh God,” she cried, placing her face in her hands in shame. She sat in the chair and prayed for forgiveness, for her broken heart, and for peace with whatever happened when Hunter attempted to return home. She breathed in deeply and blew out hard, cleaning all heaviness that she’d accumulated in her selfish huff from her.
She stood up and moved to her room to change into her riding clothes, resolved to handle Hunter’s leaving with an attitude that would please God. As she unbuttoned her dress with shaky fingers, her whispered prayer of “Help me,” was one she knew she’d repeat a million times over that day and possibly into forever.
Hunter sat on the horse behind Viola as he stared at the base of the mountain that had sent him plunging into the past. His palms sweated, and he clenched his hands to keep from pulling Viola close to his chest, grabbing the reins, and spurring that horse as quick as it could go back to the cabin. But he kept his hands resting on his thighs, where they’d stayed glued the whole ride except the time or two he’d needed to hold on or fall off. Though he’d wanted to hold on to Viola the entire way, he’d held back, keeping whatever distance he could between them for her sake, not wanting to give her hope of his feelings or memories she’d regret if he left.
Oh, who was he kidding? He’d kept his distance for his sake as much as hers, if not more. When he and Beatrice had returned to the cabin, breakfast sat on the table and the provisions were packed. Viola acted like it was just another ride in the woods. Like she was ready to send him off with a smile, a wave, and a hope-your-life-turns-out farewell. And didn’t that make him want to grab her and shake her until she mourned for the potential loss of him just as much as he did for her.
Hunter rubbed his hand down his face. He was a mess. He simply needed to focus on what they came here for and deal with what God had planned after.
Viola pulled to a stop and pointed to a depression in the ground where the snow runoff was eating away the earth. “That’s where we found you.”
“Okay,” he replied, taking a deep breath of her sweet cinnamon smell and capturing it into his memory before he leaned forward, pressing into her as he dismounted.
Hunter limped a little closer to the spot where he’d been found, while Viola and Beatrice dismounted and tied their horses to a shrub. He stared at the side of the mountain and the indention that would, in his time, be a ravine. Taking long, deep breaths, he attempted to slow his racing heart. He hadn’t been this sick-to-his-stomach nervous since his first mission out of basic. Viola walked up to stand beside him, and his stomach turned to a rock.
“I-I can never thank you for all that you’ve done for me,” he whispered hoarsely.
Viola touched his arm with her slender hand. “I know God will bless you wherever He takes you, Hunter,” she said with such conviction he thought he might break down and cry.
He put his hand over hers and gazed into her eyes as she gave him a watery smile. He squeezed her hand, cleared the dust that in no way resembled emotion from his throat, and turned his attention back to the mountain.
“I’m going to climb up the mountain a bit and slide into the depression.” Laying out his tactical approach as he would with his squad, he distanced himself from the emotions churning within him.
“That’s a wonderful plan.” Beatrice snorted as she said the sarcastic reply. “Might as well break more ribs and sprain the other ankle while you’re at it.”
“Why don’t you just walk over where we found you?” Viola asked after giving Beatrice the look his mom used to give him and Chase to keep them quiet.
Hunter shook his head. “The way I see it, you two were walking everywhere I had been, to help me up, and didn’t go anywhere, plus I don’t know where I transported back here. So, if I start up there a bit and slide down, it’ll be more like when I fell from the top.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Viola said with hesitation.
“Why don’t you go all the way to the top?” Beatrice asked smartly. “I’d even give you a push to reenact the lion’s swipe.”
“Beatrice!” Viola gaped.
Hunter rubbed his chest and shook his head. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass. Besides, I distinctly remember coming to that depression, which in my time is a ravine, and thinking it would hurt.”
“Well, you have your plan, so get on with it then,” Beatrice said in a tone that told Hunter she didn’t have time to stand here and watch him stare at his task. He knew that tone since he used it often on new recruits.
He turned from the mountain and grabbed Viola’s hand. “Thank you. Both of you. I probably would’ve died without you. It’s really been a pleasure to get to know you two, and I’m glad I was able to help you, even if it was just a little.” He glanced between them, lingering on Viola’s green eyes.
Viola threw her arms around him in a hug, whispering “Good-bye,” in his ear. He peered at Beatrice who stood behind Viola. She nodded her farewell in the brusque manner he was growing accustomed to. He pulled away from Viola, gave her one last nod, and turned to the mountain.
He adjusted his pack on his shoulders and limped up the mountainside about thirty feet. He squatted down, putting his good foot under him and holding his bad ankle out in front of him like a guide. He hoped to slide down on his foot, using his hands to keep him upright and keeping his bum leg from being hurt worse. Shifting and getting comfortable as long as possible without looking like, how did Beatrice put it, a lily-livered city dandy, Hunter knew if he didn’t slide now, he might never. His heart beat like a machine gun in his chest.
He gazed down at Viola, her hands covering her mouth in worry and her eyes shining with the longing he felt within himself. He willed himself to turn from her and focus on the dirt and rocks before him. With a final prayer for strength, he pushed himself into a slide.
The talus rock and loose dirt slid fast beneath him as he raced down much quicker than he’d anticipated. When he was a second away from the depression, he chanced one last look upon Viola before he might never see her again. She had Beatrice’s hand in a vise grip between hers, her eyes closed tight and her lips moving as if in prayer. He hit a rock that was solid, breaking his concentration on her and pulling it to his head-first dive into the depression. Well
, shucks, this would hurt.
Chapter 11
Viola squeezed Beatrice’s hand so tightly between her own she thought she might break it. Her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to watch him slide and get hurt. She’d wanted to keep her eyes on him, soaking in his image until the end, but her heart couldn’t take it, so she’d closed her eyes the second he had slid. She muttered prayers of safety and strength, hoping that God would answer and keep him from further harm.
The sound of him sliding down the mountain was loud and monstrous, as if the whole mountain was sliding down with him. Then there was nothing but the sound of small pebbles racing to catch up. Beatrice whooped, and Viola’s eyes flew open to a cloud of dust so thick nothing appeared before her. Willing it to clear, she squeezed her sister’s hand harder and harder, holding her breath for fear of what she might not see.
A shuttering cry came out as the dust settled enough for her to look at a crumpled heap at the base of the mountain. She let go of Beatrice’s hand and raced to Hunter’s body. She slid to a stop beside him and fell to her knees, rolling him over. When he groaned in pain, she burst into tears, no longer able to keep the emotions at bay.
“Where do you hurt?” she asked, wiping her tears between touching his face, arms and legs, thankful that she could touch him, no matter how inappropriate it was.
He groaned and sat up, his voice raspy. “Nowhere new.”
She helped him out of his backpack, wincing as he hissed a breath in. She pulled her kerchief out of her pocket and tried to wipe the dirt from his face while tears streamed down hers. The pain of seeing him hurt, and the relief of seeing him still here, was just too much for her to keep in the stupid things.
Hunter reached up, wiped the tears from her checks, and whispered, “Viola, I’m okay. It will be okay.”
Viola took a shuddering breath in, steeling her emotions and tucking them within as Beatrice led Cocoa up to them. Hunter squeezed Viola’s hand, and she smiled at him.
“Well, you going to sit there all day, or are we going to head back?” Beatrice asked in a surly tone.
“Bea, let him catch his breath,” Viola said in exasperation. “He just tumbled down a hill, for goodness’ sake.”
Hunter rolled to his knees and started to push up, grunting in discomfort. Viola moved to his weak side and wrapped her arm around his back to help him up.
“I’m ready.” Hunter huffed when he was standing, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he leaned into her.
“You sure?” she asked, peering up into his handsome and filthy face.
He gazed down at her in a way that had a hundred butterflies fluttering for release within her stomach, making her nauseous and excited at the same time. How could one look have her knees trembling and her brain frozen in a comatose state?
“Let’s head back,” he said, his voice husky.
Viola mounted Cocoa as Beatrice helped Hunter move closer to the horse. Viola slipped her foot out of the stirrup and reached down to help pull Hunter up. He positioned his good foot into the stirrup and swung up behind her with a grunt. Viola tried, without success, to not relish the feel of Hunter close behind her as they waited for Beatrice to mount Firestorm.
“Let’s go home,” she shouted.
“Home,” Hunter breathed behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled himself against her.
She sighed in happiness, leaning into him. He placed his cheek on her head. In the breath that fanned her ear, she thought she heard him whisper, “Thank you, Lord” as he pulled her even tighter.
Linc seethed just as vehemently a week and a half after being chased from Viola’s side as the day it happened. In fact, if he thought about it, he was even angrier now than he was then. That man, with his smooth words and hands all over Viola, would pay.
William moaned in the saddle behind him. Linc sent a scathing glance his way. His brother was still black and blue and probably had some broken ribs from where Linc had beaten him the week before. He deserved it, acting like the spineless chicken he was in front of that stranger cozying up to Viola. If William had been the fearless Sweeney he should be, if he’d shown some solidarity, that man may have backed down. Linc had let the rage loose on William, and he still wished, at times, that Robert had gone ahead and let him beat his weakling brother to death.
Smoke drifted above the trees up ahead. Linc turned to his brothers. “Let’s go see who it is. Might be Orlando.”
He turned back around, not waiting for a response, and headed to the camp ahead. When they got close, he pushed down the rage and put on the cordial face that tricked folks into talking. It was growing harder and harder to do, though, with the rage building constantly inside him since seeing Viola’s new beau. But he forced the anger deep down. He had a part to play and things to get done.
“Hello, camp,” Linc hollered when they got close.
“Hello, yourself,” a friendly, booming voice answered. “Come on up to the fire, friend.”
As they cleared the trees into the camp, Linc inwardly groaned. It was the simpleton called Jack. Though Linc knew he wasn’t really a simpleton, the man’s incessant talking always got on his nerves.
Jack motioned toward the fire with the mug he had in his hand. “Come, join me. The grub’s just getting done, and I’d sure enjoy the company.”
Linc swung from his horse, tied him to a tree, and followed his brothers to the campfire. Sure enough, the old trapper had a pot of beans simmering at the edge of the fire.
“The good Lord told me I’d be having guests.” Jack chuckled. “Good thing too, otherwise all I’d have for you boys would be some jerky.”
“Jerky would’ve been just fine.” Linc smiled, hoping his contempt didn’t show.
“So what have you boys been up to?” Jack asked, looking into each of their faces and lingering on William’s with an expression of concern.
Before he could ask William what happened, Linc said the first thing that popped in his head, “We are just coming from the Thomas’ cabin.”
“Oh, really,” the old man said smiling fondly. “And how are the good sisters doing?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. Viola has let herself become quite the hussy,” Linc said.
“How so?” Jack questioned, pulling back in shock.
“She has a man staying with her,” Linc answered, trying to keep his voice calm with a tinge of disgust instead of the rage he felt. “She was hanging all over him while allowing him to call her inappropriate pet names, like sweetheart, and fondle her right in front of our very eyes. He was staying with her in the cabin with no other menfolk around that we could tell.”
“Is this true?” Jack asked Linc’s brothers.
When they both nodded, though not looking up, Linc smiled inwardly and continued his story. “In truth, I haven’t seen such lewd behavior since stopping over at the brothels in Denver on the way out here.”
“Glad I ran into you boys,” Jack said as he pulled on his beard in concentration. “I’m heading north to take a message from Chief Johnson at the White River Agency to the girls’ uncle, Trapper Dan. I’ll add it to my message that he needs to make beaver and see to those girls quick-like since you say the Thomas menfolk are off.”
“That’s a relief,” Linc said in feigned consolation. “I sure have been worried about the state of her soul since leaving there."
“It makes me mighty nervous not going to check on them myself, but this message from the chief is important and needs to get to Dan quick,” Jack said, shaking his head in disappointment as he took a drink of his coffee.
As Jack droned on and on like a ninny about all the changes at the Ute agency and how he’d been tasked with finding Trapper Dan to get his thoughts on the situation, Linc tuned the idiot out. He could care less about the Indians. If it was up to him, those Utes would be moved off that prime farming land so whites could take advantage of it.
Something Jack had said nettled Linc’s mind, though. The crazy coot’s comm
ent about leaving Viola with that stranger staying at her cabin got Linc to thinking. Something had been off about that man who’d spoke so carelessly about killing before. Something dangerous. Now that he thought about it, Viola had most likely been coerced to say those heartless things that had sliced through Linc’s heart and left him to die. The thought of the man’s arm wrapped around Viola sent a shiver through Linc. At first he thought it was jealousy, but now he recognized it as fear. Fear for his Viola. He owed it to Viola to go back for her, to take her from that precarious environment, and save her from that strange man. She’d be so thankful, she’d do anything he asked. With that thought, a grin stretched across his lips, and a plan formed in his mind.
Viola glanced up from the laundry she was scrubbing on the washboard to where Hunter stood hanging the clean clothes on the line. She couldn’t believe only a week had passed since that day at the mountain. She shook her head at the sight of a man doing laundry. Her pa and brother had certainly never hung clothes for her. She sobered as Hunter winced and brought his hand to his side. While he was healing well and much quicker than she expected, the way he occasionally winced when he moved or stepped told her he was more sore than he let on.
“Hunter, you don’t have to do that,” Viola called.
“For the hundredth time,” Hunter called back, stretching his chest before reaching for the next item to hang, “I’d rather be doing what you all call women’s work than sitting on my butt all day. I’d dust, mop, and cook all day if it keeps me out of that bed.”
Viola went back to scrubbing the dress she had on the washboard and hummed as the memories of what they’d talked about all the days and nights since he’d arrived passed through her mind. She smiled at the amazing outcome of him coming to this time. She’d thanked God a million times over and more for allowing Hunter to stay. While he hadn’t held her again, their conversations had created an intimacy between them that simultaneously frightened and elated her.
Vestige of Hope Page 11
