Love Inspired Historical November 2015

by Linda Ford

  She was bored by him, and he had to change. If he kept doing what he’d always done, he’d get what he’d always got.

  A nagging thought held him back. What if he changed, and he still wasn’t good enough?

  *

  Tessa stomped across the clearing. A freeze and thaw had left the ground slippery, slowing her progress. She’d thought the men genuinely liked her. How naive she’d been. A loyal worker mustn’t refuse the boss’s wife. Then again, if her husband ever strung more than two words together in a sentence, she wouldn’t need their help all the time.

  Why hadn’t she seen the obvious sooner? As she recalled the number of times she’d asked the men for help over the past days, her humiliation came rushing back. They must have been simmering with annoyance.

  Her steps slowed. She had been a pest. Shane had warned her against the loneliness and isolation, but she’d been arrogant once again, assuming the children might ease her transition. They had—to a point. Except she’d been naive in assuming they’d make up for true companionship. She’d thrown herself into their care, creating what she hoped was the perfect home for them. They loved her and she loved them, but they didn’t fill the lonely void inside her. She’d turned toward the workers to fill the empty space.

  Though she’d agreed to a partnership, she’d expected something more from her marriage. Not a grand passion, certainly—she wasn’t a complete fool. She’d bullied Shane into the wedding because she’d expected companionship, warmth, the faint stirrings of friendship. Instead she’d got the same monosyllabic replies to her practiced questions.

  How was your day?

  Fine.

  How was your dinner?

  Good.

  Who could blame her for going a touch batty? Instead of dealing with each other, they showered their attention on Owen and Alyce. The children, the very thing that had brought them together, stood between them as a shield.

  She halted in the clearing and planted her hands on her hips. What had she expected? They were strangers. He was a widower. She’d never been a very patient person. If there was a problem, she searched out an answer and didn’t quit until she discovered a solution. Maybe if she started asking different questions, he’d give her different answers. What did she have to lose in trying?

  Upon reaching the house, she recalled the point of her errand with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she doubled back, apprehension snaked down her spine. The potatoes were stored in the root cellar, and she’d put off going into the dank space long enough. She avoided the chore, making the trip last. There was always a part of her that feared pulling a jar off the shelf and discovering a nest full of spiders.

  Yanking open the lean-to door, she braced the prop stick into place, then tromped down the stairs. Her boot heel skidded on a patch of ice slicked over the wooden tread. In a sickening flash her feet went out from beneath her.

  Pitching backward, she seized the only solid thing available, the prop stick. For a tantalizing moment her hold remained solid. The next instant the stick fractured in two. A vicious blow cracked the back of her head.

  Her shoulder slammed into the wall and suddenly she was falling. The door crashed shut, plunging her into darkness. As she plummeted down the remaining distance, a scream tore from her throat.

  She sprawled at the base of the stairs, her consciousness ebbing and flowing in nauseating waves. Every part of her body throbbed. She pushed off and yelped at the stinging in her wrist. Agony pulsated behind her eyes. Moaning softly, she slowly reached behind her head and felt the sticky warmth of blood.

  Even in the darkness, her world pitched and tumbled, her vision spinning. She closed her eyes, longing for the peaceful numbness of unconsciousness. A thousand hammers beat against her head. The loamy scent of musty earth sent her gagging. There were spiders down here. She felt them already, skittering across her arms.

  The children.

  How long before someone noticed she was missing? What if they woke and found her gone? She narrowed her thoughts on them, staving off the shadows. Her strength sapped away with sickening speed, and she crawled toward the stairs. Despite her best efforts, darkness swirled around her, sucking her inexorably down. Tears wet her cheeks.

  She’d rest for a moment. Gather her strength. Dinner was two hours away. Two hours until Shane returned. Alyce and Owen would never make it that long without going hungry or getting hurt. Children shouldn’t be alone. Being alone was frightening.

  A thought edged at her consciousness before the comfort of engulfing blackness descended over her. Here she thought the Fulton gang would be the end of her, and she’d been lain low by a sheet of ice.

  Shane was going to be so annoyed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shane lingered in the south pasture over an easy repair to the fence line, and yet the answers he sought eluded him. He’d finished all his tasks and even invented more, finding excuses to stay away. He fisted his hand on his leg and stared at the muddy ground. The time had come to face Tessa and apologize.

  As he reined his horse around, a rider coming in hot caught his attention.

  Wheeler galloped toward him and stopped just short, the horse’s hooves kicking up mud clods. Shane caught the animal’s bridle, and his nerves thrummed. Wheeler was never rattled, yet raw emotion pinched his face.

  “We got a problem.” Wheeler spoke without preamble. “Mrs. McCoy is missing.”

  Shane’s heart slammed against his ribs. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

  “Parker went to drop off some supplies, and the kids were alone. He waited awhile and she never came back. The boys are putting together a search party.”

  “What do you mean he waited?” A wave of pure terror swept over Shane. “You should have fetched me sooner.”

  “Took a while to find you.” A note of censure crept into the other man’s voice. “You left off without telling anybody where you were going.”

  A thousand different scenarios crowded Shane’s thoughts. Tessa might have left him, he’d given her no reason to remain, but she’d never put the children in danger. “Tessa doesn’t ride very well. She must have left on foot.”

  “She wouldn’t leave those kids alone,” Wheeler said with a negative motion of his head. “Not unless something bad happened.”

  Shane caught Wheeler’s charged glance and was certain his own expression reflected the same stark fear.

  “We’ll find her.” Wheeler spoke harshly. “She can’t have gone far.”

  Shane marshaled his thoughts. There’d be time for self-recriminations and blame later. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can start the search.”

  They took off at a gallop. Shane’s horse was the fresher of the pair, and he reached the ranch first. The animal’s sides were flecked with foam by the time he arrived. The men were already saddled and mustering in the corral behind the barn.

  He swung off and led his horse into the center of the gathering. “What do we know?”

  Parker shook his head. “Everything’s locked up tight. She’s not in the house or the barn. We checked the rest of the outbuildings. She hasn’t been around the bunkhouse since this morning.”

  “No horses missing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No sign of strangers? Indians?”

  Finch stepped forward. “I took a look around the perimeter. There’s no fresh tracks leading to or from the road. The last time anyone saw her, she was heading toward the house.”

  “You checked all the outbuildings?”

  “Like I said.” Milt paced before the others. “Everything’s shut up tight.”

  A fission of apprehension raised the hair on the back of Shane’s neck. Tessa didn’t like being alone.

  “Let’s take another look before we fan out. How long has she been missing?”

  “Since four,” Wheeler said.

  His stomach knotted. She’d disappeared after their argument. “That’s over an hour ago.”

  “Abo
ut that.”

  “Probably she took a walk and got turned around,” he declared, the words sounding unconvincing to his own ears. Fear threatened to consume him. The thought of her frightened and alone, maybe hurt, sent waves of terror crashing over him. He forced down his panic and fought for concentration. He wouldn’t do her any good if he lost focus.

  Shane looped the reins around his fist. “The temperature is dropping and the wind is picking up. We don’t have much time until dark. Everyone keep your eyes sharp.”

  If she was injured, she’d never survive the weather overnight. The prairie didn’t offer much protection from the frigid chill. Not to mention the search was fraught with challenges. Even in winter, tall grasses reached his waist. If she was down, they’d have to be right on top of her before they’d see her.

  “Finch,” he called. “You’re the best tracker. Take the outer north edge. The rest of us will fan out and work our way in a circle.” He glanced around for the missing man. “Is Parker with the kids?”

  “He’s keeping them busy.”

  “Good.” A part of Shane wanted to gather the people he loved close, assure himself of their safety, yet he couldn’t afford to lose any time. “Let’s roll out.”

  The boys set off in opposite directions, but something held him back. Wheeler was right—she wouldn’t have gone far. She was fiercely protective of the children. He coiled the reins around the top rail of the corral and set off on foot.

  His head bent, he searched the ground. Tracks crisscrossed the area. Each thaw and freeze left a new layer, destroying any chance of singling out a set of footprints. Every door in the place was shut tight. Though it seemed unlikely someone would accidentally close up behind her, he was taking the search methodically.

  He crossed to the meat hut and swung up the heavy bar, then heaved open the door. The solitary carcass hung from its hook. Guilt kicked him in the gut. He’d shown her the carcass that first day without thinking how she might react. He’d been raised on a farm, and he often forgot that others weren’t as seasoned. Another failure on his part.

  Next he set off in the direction of the root cellar. Just as Milt said, the opening hadn’t been propped. She’d have never shut the door behind her, and yet he was drawn inexorably forward. As with the meat hut, he wasn’t taking any chances. He swung open the door and peered into the darkness. Nothing. He’d almost released the handle when he heard a faint stirring. He threw the door wide and searched for the prop stick that held it open.

  The pole was missing.

  His heart leaped into his throat and he descended the first few steps. His heel slipped and he caught his balance against the wall. A faint moan snagged his attention. His pulse jerked and he leaped down the remaining stairs. A flash of white petticoat caught a sliver of light.

  Tessa wasn’t moving.

  Emotion clogging his throat, he collapsed beside her. She groaned and her head lolled to one side. Touching her wrist, he felt the weak thread of her pulse beneath his fingers. Her skin was ice-cold and he whipped off his coat, draping the heavy material over her huddled form.

  “Tessa, talk to me,” he urged. “Where are you hurt?”

  She groaned and her eyes fluttered open. “My head.”

  How long had she been in this dank, musty space? She needed light and warmth, but he was afraid of moving her until he sorted out her injuries lest he harm her further. Gently feeling around her scalp, his hand came away wet. He wiped the blood on his pant legs and gently searched for other wounds. She winced when he touched her left ankle.

  He propped her head on his bent knee and brushed the hair from her forehead. “You’re going to be all right. The boys are out searching for you. I have to leave you for a moment and holler for help.”

  The stairs were too narrow to carry her up himself.

  She rested a weak hand on his sleeve. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  Murmuring softly, he pressed her cold fingers between his warmer hands. “I won’t leave you.”

  “I don’t like it when you leave at night.”

  Tilting his head, he studied her face in the dim light. Her eyes were glazed, and he had the uneasy sensation she wasn’t really seeing him. “I’m calling the boys. This might be loud.”

  Leaning away from her, he placed two fingers in his mouth and blew out a shrill whistle.

  Tessa flinched and recoiled.

  “I’m sorry. No more noise. I promise.”

  He pressed the backs of his fingers against her forehead. “Stay with me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “The children. I left the children.”

  “They’re all right,” he soothed. “Parker found them right off. He’s with them now.”

  The tension in her body eased. Voices sounded outside. Finch and Parker arrived first, Red close on their heels.

  Shane glanced up at their faces framed in the narrow opening of the door. “Fetch Doc Johnsen. She’s hit her head and maybe broken her ankle.”

  “Right away, boss,” Finch replied quickly.

  Red motioned with his arm. “Hand her up.”

  Shane carefully stood and scooped her into his arms. She hissed a breath. “My leg.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She was strong, he reminded himself. She’d fight through this. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back to the house and warm.”

  “I’m not c-c-old.”

  A sure sign of potentially fatal chills. Anxiety sharpened his focus. He braced his foot on the bottom stair and Red reached down. Shane loathed letting her go, even for a moment. With Wheeler’s help they lifted her from the root cellar, and he followed close behind, avoiding the ice-covered tread. The moment he stood on solid ground, Red handed her back and he set off for the house.

  Tessa clutched his collar. “Why didn’t you send a telegram?”

  He and Red exchanged a confused glance. “Why would I send a telegram?”

  “To show me you care.”

  “I care, Tessa.”

  He must have said the right thing, because her fingers loosened.

  “Parker can take the kids back to the bunkhouse,” Red said. “We’ll keep an eye on them until you get things sorted out.”

  He held open the door and Shane ducked inside. Alyce and Owen dashed toward them, but their faces fell when they saw Tessa’s still form. They might be children, but they sensed the gravity of the situation. The two slowed, toddling over, then clutched his pant leg and reached for Tessa.

  “Papa, Papa.”

  “Tess-Tess.”

  He offered a weak smile. “Tessa isn’t feeling well. Finch has gone to fetch the doctor. Doc Johnsen will fix her right up.”

  Parker and Red took charge of the children, and with murmured assurances and a promise of sweets, they were bustled away.

  Shane rested Tessa on the bed and quickly divested her of her damp coat and tucked the quilt around her. Gathering every blanket he could find, he piled them over her small form. Her teeth chattered and violent trembling racked her body.

  Milt hovered in the doorway. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Fire up the stove as hot as you can and put on a pot of coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” He paused. “I looked. Truly, I did. I didn’t see her.”

  “I know. I didn’t see her at first either. It’s not your fault.”

  Milt nodded, his throat working, then quietly turned away.

  Tessa reached for Shane, her gaze unfocused. “I’m sorry.”

  “You had an accident. Nothing to be sorry for.”

  “You’ll have to eat supper in the bunkhouse.”

  “Never mind supper. How’s your head?”

  He fumbled for a towel and wet it in the basin of water beside the bed. Working his hands through her hair, he discovered an enormous lump behind one ear. Blood darkened her hair and he wiped away as much as he could. She winced at his ministrations.

  “I fell down the stairs,” she said.

&nb
sp; “You hit your head pretty hard.”

  “Emmett always said I was hardheaded anyway.” Her voice quivered. “I miss him.”

  He still found it odd the way she talked about her father by his first name, but now wasn’t the time for questions.

  “Just rest. The doctor will be here soon.”

  “My leg hurts, too.”

  “I know.” He caught her hand. “Why don’t you close your eyes and rest?”

  “Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.” Her words were growing slurred and drowsy. “Keep the light on. I don’t like the dark.”

  Though the setting sun brightened the room, he lit a lamp with a practiced scratch of flint and steel. He adjusted the wick, then replaced the chimney. “I won’t leave you.”

  He pressed her ice-cold fingers between his much warmer hands and she calmed. After kicking off his boots, he perched on the bed beside her. Like a cat, she curled into the warmth of his body.

  The quiet lasted only a moment before she began thrashing about. She groaned and clawed at her hair. “I can feel them.”

  “Feel what?”

  “The spiders. The spiders are crawling in my hair.”

  He threaded his fingers through the silken mass, dislodging the few remaining hairpins. “There are no spiders, see?”

  The rhythmic brush of his fingers quieted her, and her eyes drifted shut once more. He ran the pad of his thumb along her closed eyelid, brushing away a spot of dirt. She trembled in his embrace and he tightened his arm around her. She clung to him, her face buried against his chest. Fear and guilt were all mixed together with a fierce desire to protect and comfort her, cherish her.

  Though he hadn’t admitted the realization to himself, in only a few weeks she’d become a vital part of his existence. His day centered on catching a glimpse of her. She grew more exquisitely beautiful each time he saw her. His footsteps naturally quickened as the evenings approached, his eager anticipation of their time together obvious. Each day he marveled at the good fortune that had dropped her into his path.