A Love to Cherish

by Connie Mason

  His words were slurred but Belle took his threat seriously. Breathing hard, she climbed up the hill, refusing to be caught like a rabbit in a trap. The pace she set for herself was grueling. Her breathing became ragged as she picked her way up the hill. Pain shot up her lame leg; dry brush and twigs tore at her skirts and ripped into her face. She tasted blood when a branch cut her lip. She had to go on. She had to find a hiding place until Casey found her.

  It was amazing how completely she believed in Casey given how she had distrusted him a short time ago. She knew Casey would come for her, she just wasn’t sure when. Until he did it was up to her to keep from becoming Jones’s victim. But her leg, oh, God, her leg was nearly numb with pain. Finally it buckled and she went down in a tangle of petticoats. She began rolling head over heels down the hill, gaining speed as she rolled. She feared for her babe and protected her stomach as best she could with her arms. She came up hard against a tree trunk and stopped abruptly. Her breath emptied from her lungs and she blacked out.

  “Where in the hell are you?” Jones bellowed from somewhere above her. When she didn’t reply he bounded down the hill after her. Belle held her breath as he passed within feet of her without spotting her, thanks largely to her dark clothing.

  “I’ll find you, bitch,” he muttered as he headed back toward the hut. “Just as soon as it’s light enough to see where I’m going. You can’t go far on a gimpy leg.”

  Belle regained her wits slowly, aware of intense pain in every part of her body. Her arms still hugged her belly and she prayed that God had spared her child. Then she realized that the pain wasn’t coming from her middle. She was on the verge of pinning it down when she blacked out again.

  Casey arose from a fitful sleep at the first hint of dawn. He drank from a nearby creek and chewed on jerky while he saddled his horse. Pink was tingeing the eastern sky when he returned to the dusty trail and picked up Jones’s tracks. Luck was with him. Since no rain had fallen overnight, he found them easily. He tracked Jones to a place where he turned his mount off the trail onto a narrow lane. His lips flattened into a mirthless grin as he followed.

  Belle awoke in a daze. She was chilled to the bone and realized she must have lain on the damp ground for hours, but daylight hadn’t arrived yet. She tried to move and found she could drag herself without too much pain into an upright position. Her hands flew to her stomach, vastly relieved when she felt the barely discernable bulge where her child lay in her womb. But when she tried to stand, her leg collapsed beneath her. She lay on the ground, tears of frustration trailing down her pale cheeks. Then she heard Jones crashing through the underbrush in search of her, and panic seized her. Spying a clump of bushes nearby, she scooted into them, ignoring the prick of thorns and scrape of dead branches on her tender skin.

  Once again her dark clothing saved her, as Jones failed to see her huddled in the shadows as he scoured the hillside. Poised on the horns of dilemma, Belle couldn’t decide whether to make her way to the cabin or to remain hidden. Her leg was badly bruised and dragging herself across rough ground didn’t appeal to her. In the end she decided to stay where she was and trust that Jones wouldn’t find her.

  As darkness turned to dawn, Belle realized that her hiding place wasn’t as secure as she had first assumed. The bushes in which she had sought cover seemed far more sparse in broad daylight than they had in the dark. Casting her gaze about for safer concealment, Belle saw nothing but scrawny scrubs and tall pines, so she opted to remain where she was. Thirsty and hungry, she hunkered down into a bed of pine needles and waited for a miracle.

  Instead of a miracle, a bobcat emerged from the trees and ambled toward her. Belle froze, too panic-stricken to move. The bobcat sniffed the air, caught her scent, and moved unerringly in her direction. Belle knew little about bobcats so she allowed her instincts to guide her. She rolled into a ball and played dead. She heard a low growl close to her ear, smelled the acrid stench of his breath, and knew the cat had found her. She sucked in her breath and held it, fearing this was to be her last day on earth. Being mauled by a bobcat wasn’t her idea of a miracle.

  Belle tried not to panic when the bobcat batted at her with a sharp-clawed paw. She nearly screamed aloud when she felt his claws rip through her dress and dig into the tender flesh of her back. She felt a rush of warm blood and forced herself not to move. After a few minutes the bobcat tired of the game and wandered away. Belle’s relief was so intense she was insensate to her pain. She already ached in so many places a few more made little difference. At least Jones hadn’t found her yet and perhaps he wouldn’t. If she could hold out until dark, God willing she could slip away.

  Casey followed the sorrel’s tracks along a winding path. He reined to a halt a short distance from a secluded hut that was all but invisible against a wooded hillside. He dismounted, tethered his horse to a branch, and crouched at the edge of the woods. Every instinct told him that Belle was nearby, but he knew better than to rush headlong into a situation that could result in death. Belle’s life and that of his child were at risk should he fail.

  He waited and watched a good half hour, until his nerves were stretched taut and he could no longer stand the suspense of waiting. He had to know if Belle was safe and he had to know now. He could be doing something positive instead of wasting precious time.

  Creeping across the clearing to the front door, Casey drew his weapon and prepared to enter. He kicked open the door and burst inside. The room was empty. Moving cautiously through the sparsely furnished room, Casey saw signs of recent occupancy. Bread crumbs and scraps of cheese were scattered about the floor beside an empty gunny sack. An abandoned whiskey bottle lay nearby, its contents sadly depleted. It was the lingering fragrance of lilacs that convinced Casey that Belle had been here. It was the same scent Belle used in her bath. He would never forget the arousing fragrance on her skin when he made love to her.

  Where had Jones taken Belle? Casey wondered in a fit of panic. Why had they left the hideout? Something had driven Jones and Belle from the hut, and Casey racked his brain for an answer. Nothing inside the hut gave Casey the tiniest clue so he wandered outside to look around. The hard-packed dirt around the hut yielded a multitude of footprints. Casey studied them carefully, encouraged when he saw a set of small prints that could only belong to a woman. A lame woman who put more pressure on one foot than the other. They led up into the hills.

  Casey felt his first stirring of hope. According to the signs, Belle had managed to escape the hut and had headed for high ground. Since Jones was nowhere to be seen Casey assumed Jones was hard on her heels. Casey prayed that Jones hadn’t found her yet. Fragile hope flowered in his breast. He had to get to Belle before Jones found her. His face set in grim lines, he started up the hill.

  Jones pushed through the tangle of underbrush, cursing his rotten luck. He’d been tramping up and down the hillside and through the woods for hours, and still hadn’t found his prey. He had started back down the hill now, thinking he’d missed her on his way up, and was determined to search every bush along the way. He’d nearly reached the bottom when he heard a low growl and saw a bobcat sniffing around a clump of bushes. Jones backed away slowly until he was upwind of the animal. He watched from a safe distance as the bobcat clawed at something in the bushes. After a few minutes the bobcat lost interest and bounded off.

  Jones waited until he was certain the bobcat wouldn’t return before going to investigate. He smiled when he saw Belle curled into a ball, her back oozing blood from the bobcat’s claws.

  “Well, well, what have we here? You should have stayed in the hut instead of trying to escape me. Look at you. You’re one helluva mess, lady. Get up! I’m not taking any chances this time. I’ve got some rope back at the hut.”

  Belle slowly uncoiled and stared up at Jones. She was numb with pain, dazed, and in shock. She couldn’t have stood even if she’d wanted to. “I can’t,” she whispered hoarsely. “My leg won’t hold me up.”

  Jones spat out a
curse. “Bitch! I don’t care about your leg. If you don’t get up now, I’m going to make you sorry you left the hut and caused me so much trouble.”

  Belle tried to rise but her leg buckled beneath her. She cried out in agony. “I can’t.”

  Grasping her arm, Jones started to drag her down the hill.

  “Take your filthy hands off my wife.” The quietly rendered words made them all the more deadly.

  “What the hell!” Jones’s hands dropped away from Belle as he spun to face Casey.

  “Casey!” Belle sobbed out his name. Never had she been so glad to see anyone in her life. “Thank God you’ve come.”

  “Are you all right?” Casey asked harshly. “What about the baby? Say the word and I’ll kill the bastard.”

  “No, don’t kill him!” Belle cried. “His confession will free Harry Hopkins. I’m … all right, and as far as I can tell, so is our baby.”

  “Can you walk?” Casey asked.

  “I don’t think so. I injured my leg when I rolled down the hill.”

  Assuming Casey was preoccupied with Belle, Jones tried to make a dash for it. Casey was more alert than Jones thought. He fired over Jones’s head and ordered him to stop. Jones skidded to a halt and Casey shoved him against a sturdy sapling.

  “Damn, I left my rope with my horse,” Casey muttered. He glanced at Belle and was immediately alarmed by her pallor. He cursed again. “I need my rope to secure Jones to a tree so I can get you back to town, love.”

  “Use strips from my petticoat,” Belle offered.

  “Here,” Casey said, handing her his gun. “Keep this trained on Jones while I do the tearing. If he moves an inch, shoot him.”

  Casey’s expression turned grim when he finally got a good look at Belle. Her clothing was torn, and she was a mass of scrapes and bruises. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he didn’t dare relax his vigil until Jones no longer presented a danger to them. Casey had yet to see Belle’s mauled back. If he had he would have cheerfully beaten Jones to within an inch of his life.

  “How far did you fall?” Casey asked as he ripped her petticoat into strips.

  “I don’t know. I must have blacked out.”

  “Is that how you got all these bruises?”

  “I suppose.”

  Casey cursed fluently. “Did Jones hurt you?”

  Jones sent him a sullen look. “I didn’t touch her. I would have returned her safely after I got my money. All I wanted was what McAllister cheated my pa out of.”

  “Did that include murder?” Casey asked as he approached Jones with the strips of cotton. “Back up against that tree.”

  “You ain’t gonna leave me here to die, are you?”

  “I’d like to, but there’s an innocent man who will die for a murder he didn’t commit if I do. I’m turning you over to the sheriff.”

  Casey bound Jones securely to the tree, fastening his wrists and feet together and lashing them to the trunk. Then he wound extra strips around his neck and middle until there was no possible way Jones could escape.

  “I’ll come back for you later,” Casey said, stepping back to examine his handiwork.

  “What about wild animals?” Jones asked fearfully.

  “You’ll just have to take your chances. I’ve got to get my wife to a doctor. If she loses our baby your life is forfeit.”

  “Shit! A baby,” Jones muttered. “Just my luck.”

  “How do you feel?” Casey asked of Belle. She’d been through hell and he had failed to protect her. He pried the gun from her hands and returned it to his holster. “Hang on, love. I’ll have you back to town in no time. Let me check first to see if your leg is broken and needs setting.”

  Lifting her skirt, Casey gently probed Belle’s injured leg, relieved to find no broken bones. “I’m not a doctor but I can find no broken bones, love. It’s badly bruised and you may have sprained an ankle, but hopefully the rest of your injuries are minor.” He lifted her into his arms. “I’m going to have to carry you to my horse.”

  He heard her sudden intake of breath and feared he had hurt her leg. He was still unaware of the wounds she had suffered to her back and she didn’t tell him.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed. “I’ll try not to jostle you too much.”

  Belle nodded, burying her face against his chest so he couldn’t tell by her expression how badly she hurt. She managed to remain conscious through pure dint of will. When they reached the bottom of the hill, they found Mark waiting for them.

  “Do you need help, brother?”

  “Mark! I thought I told you to stay in town.”

  “Since when have I ever done anything you said? I followed your trail, thinking you might need help, but I see you have things well in hand.” He studied Belle carefully. “Is she all right?”

  “I won’t know until we reach town and the doctor has seen her.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “Belle says all is well, but I won’t be content until the doctor pronounces them both sound.”

  “Take me home,” Belle said, hugging him tightly. “I need to see Tommy. He must be worried about me.”

  “What can I do to help?” Mark wanted to know. “Did Jones get away?”

  Casey sent him a wry grin. “You know me better than that. I left Jones bound to a tree. Now that you’re here you can take him to town and turn him over to the sheriff. Tell Sheriff Rogan I’ll be in soon to press charges. Be sure Rogan knows Jones is responsible for McAllister’s death.” He told Mark where to find Jones and advised him to bring a rope. Mark gave him a jaunty salute and bounded up the hill.

  “I’m going to set you on my horse,” Casey told Belle when they reached the place where his mount was tethered. “We’re not far from town. I know you’re in pain, love, but try to concentrate on Tommy, and how happy he’ll be to see you.”

  “Casey, I have to tell you something first.”

  “Later, love. Nothing is more important than getting you home safely.” He’d noticed blood on her clothing and feared she was seriously injured.

  “This is more important. I love you, Casey Walker. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

  Chapter 19

  Casey cradled Belle against his heart all the way to San Francisco. She had fallen asleep shortly after uttering those magical words Casey never expected to hear.

  She loved him.

  He still couldn’t believe it. He tasted the sweetness of Belle’s words on his lips and savored them. If she never said them again, he would always remember this day. Casey’s greatest fear was that Belle had been in shock when she uttered those words and hadn’t realized what she’d said. Or that he had imagined them. Perhaps she’d said them out of gratitude. That didn’t bear thinking about.

  They had just entered the city when Belle stirred restlessly in his arms and started to awaken. Casey tightened his hold on her. “We’re almost home, sweetheart. That’s Telegraph Hill in front of us. Is the pain bad?”

  Belle regarded him solemnly. His face was so dear to her she wanted to go on looking at him forever. It took a near-disaster for her to realize she couldn’t live without this man. She knew now that he wasn’t going away, that he would remain with her and Tommy and their new babe as long as a breath remained in his body. He would protect them and love them always, and she had been a fool to doubt him.

  “The pain isn’t so bad when you’re holding me,” she said, giving him a wobbly smile. “I love you, Casey. Never let me go.”

  She said it again! Casey couldn’t stop grinning. He hadn’t imagined it. Belle did love him. “You ought to know by now I’ll never let you go. If I was going to leave, I would have done so long ago. I love you, Belle. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you and realized you weren’t the kind of woman McAllister described. No more talking now. We’re home.”

  Belle remain alert until the moment Casey lifted her down from the horse. No matter how carefully he handled her, the pain prov
ed too much as she cried out and lost consciousness again. She didn’t see Greta, Tommy, and Wan Yo rush from the house and surround them, or hear their worried voices as they questioned Casey.

  “What’s wrong with Mama?” Tommy asked as Casey carried Belle into the house.

  “She’s going to be fine, son,” Casey said, praying it was so.

  “What can I do?” Greta asked worriedly. “She’s so pale.”

  “She’s in shock. Send one of the servants for the doctor.”

  Greta hurried off to do as she was bid, while Wan Yo scurried before Casey to open doors and pull the covers back on the bed. It wasn’t until Casey placed Belle on the bed that he was able to examine the blood stains on Belle’s clothing more closely. He stared at the red blotches in dismay, fearing that she had more severe injuries than those which he had inspected. No wonder she was so pale.

  Greta returned to the bedroom, saw Casey staring at her blood-stained clothing, and asked, “What did Jones do to her?”

  “I don’t know. Did you send for the doctor?”

  “He should be here shortly. Someone is bringing hot water and antiseptic.”

  Tommy clung to Wan Yo, his eyes swimming in tears. “Why is Mama so still? What’s wrong with her?”

  “You have to trust me, Tommy, when I say your mother is going to be fine,” Casey said earnestly. “The doctor will be here soon to make her well. I think it best that you go with Wan Yo now.” He sent the Chinaman a speaking glance. “I’ll send for you when your mother is more herself.”

  “Wan Yo will take care of Tommy, Mister Casey,” Wan Yo said as he led the reluctant child away.

  “Help me get Belle’s clothes off,” Casey said to Greta after a servant arrived with hot water and antiseptic, set it on the night table, and left. Casey gently turned Belle on her side so he could reach the fastenings on the back of her dress and froze. The material was shredded and blood-soaked. “Oh, my God!”

  Casey paled when he saw the torn flesh on Belle’s back. He’d suspected she’d suffered a grave injury but wasn’t prepared for this. He carefully peeled away the layers of material until the wounds were bared.