by Amber Stokes
After he handed her some more crackers and jerky, he settled on his own bedroll across the fire. “I promise I’ll catch something fresh for us to eat tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind this. Although I wouldn’t mind something else, either.” She blushed.
He laughed. “Alrighty then. Maybe I can get a rabbit.”
She nodded, distracted. Never mind food. She had too much for her mind to chew on. Like what she was going to do about the guilt that had started to eat at her.
“Care to talk about whatever’s causing you to frown so deeply?”
Her gaze flew to his over the flames. This man had prayed over their meal last night. He had saved her from the river, and he was helping her to find her brother. And he was the only one around to talk to.
“I’m worried about my ma.”
He stretched his hands out to the fire but remained silent.
“I shouldn’t have left the way I did, I know, despite everything.” The confession felt good, like something that had been stuck in her throat dissolved. “Do you think she’ll come looking for me? I don’t want her to get hurt. She wouldn’t know where to begin to search…”
She jumped when David shot to his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, and she waited, wondering.
“I’ve got to get more wood.” He cleared his throat. “But maybe when we get to Cheyenne you can send her a telegram. Let her know where you are and what your plan is.”
He turned and walked away before she could respond. Crossing her arms over her chest, she listened to the crackle of the fire, shivering again. He’d come back.
Chapter 3
David spotted what he wanted near the shrubs up ahead and grabbed the shotgun he kept on the back of Liberty’s saddle. Elizabeth had opted to stay by a small river they came across earlier in the evening, but David was determined to bring back some fresh meat. The rabbit would be perfect.
Tying Liberty’s reins to a tree, he gave her neck a pat and then approached the bushes carefully. When he was sure he couldn’t get any closer without startling the creature, he slowly lifted the gun to his shoulder. Deep breaths. Focus. The hunting would keep his mind off their conversation of several nights before. No more talk of families. Just this rabbit. Just this source of food.
The bullet found its mark, and he grinned. He walked the remaining distance and knelt down to grab the rabbit, pleased by its size.
Suddenly, a scream caused his head to snap up. Rising with the rabbit dangling by its legs from his grip, he searched the woods, getting his bearings. Elizabeth. He hadn’t wandered far from where he had left her, but whatever the exact distance, it was too far. I never should have left her alone. Sprinting to Liberty, he untied the reins and swung on with his gun beneath his arm and the dead rabbit on his lap. He pointed Liberty toward the river and spurred her on. “Come on, girl. Faster!”
Please don’t let it be too late. Please be with her. Please help me save her.
The trees rushed by. As soon as the blue ribbon of water unfurled before him, his vision narrowed. Just the river. He had to make it in time. Elizabeth couldn’t die. His life—his past, his future—had been stretched too far by her appearance. If she disappeared, there would be no going back. No going back.
The clearing in between the trees grew wider, until he was there. He jumped off of Liberty, tying her reins to the branch of a tree at the edge of the forest. Still holding the rabbit and gun, he took in the situation.
Elizabeth was standing by a thimbleberry bush, cowering before a black bear standing on all fours. Not much older than a yearling, but still a good size. It would be new to being on its own. Hungry. Startled by Elizabeth’s presence. And possibly angry.
“Elizabeth,” he called, “don’t cower! Stand tall. Tell him to go away.”
“This isn’t funny, David.” She was crying, and his gut twisted as he walked toward her and the bear.
“I know, Liz.”
The bear grunted and stood on its hind legs. Elizabeth screamed again, falling backward. David’s heart stopped as Elizabeth curled into a ball and the bear took a swipe at her side. David fired a shot into the air, causing the bear to fall to its feet and turn to him. Raising the rabbit’s carcass high, he made sure the bear could see it before he threw it several feet away from the bear—and Elizabeth.
The bear sniffed the air and then lumbered over to the rabbit. David made his way to Elizabeth, hoping the bear would be satisfied. Hoping they could get away safely. Kneeling down next to Elizabeth, he glanced over her, satisfied her injuries weren’t too serious, but concerned over how pale and silent she had become.
“Here.” He handed her the shotgun, which she took with trembling hands. Then he lifted her into his arms. Peeking at the bear and seeing it tear at the rabbit, he sighed and walked back toward Liberty. Elizabeth hid her face in his shirt.
When he got to the horse, who was tossing her head back and forth, he set Elizabeth down and slid the gun on the back of the saddle among his other possessions. Then he untied the reins, climbed into the saddle, and pulled Elizabeth up in front of him. With one last glance at the bear, busy with consuming the food, he urged Liberty forward.
Elizabeth leaned back against him, and he pulled her closer, feeling the shaking of her shoulders against his chest. As they rode through the woods and into another clearing, the first stars glimmered in the vast, dusk-yellow sky above, emphasizing their vulnerability. All he could think about was how he had almost lost her. Thank you, he whispered to God. She fit so well on his saddle, with his arms around her. He couldn’t let her go.
***
David’s horse’s name was a joke. Liberty. Independence and freedom were illusions from the past as Elizabeth was forced to realize her dependence on David. Without him, she might have died—drowned in the creek, killed by a bear. Without him, she would never make it to Virginia City. She knew that now. But knowing the truth of her situation didn’t erase the sting she felt at being so helpless. Wherever David led her...wherever he decided to go...she had no choice but to follow. No choice.
She shook from the remnants of fear, from the birth of a new anger.
“Please let me down.” His arm was holding her tight against him, brushing painfully against her hurt side. She was lassoed like a horse. Captured.
“I think we should put more distance between us and the bear before we stop,” David replied, dismissing her plea.
Fine. She would command him to let her go.
“Let. Me. Down.”
“No.” He was unwavering.
Feeling sick, she tried to pry his arm loose. Her breathing became shallower, and her heart beat faster than a gallop. She would beg, if that’s what he wanted.
“Please. We’ve gone far enough. I want off this horse.”
“Elizabeth...”
“Please!”
Pulling back on the reins, David finally let her go. Jumping down, Elizabeth could barely get her legs to support her, and she cried out at the fire in her side. But within a moment, she was running—as far from David as she could go.
“Where are you going? Elizabeth!”
She knew he was following her, and she hated the feeling. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere she could run, except into the pines, which was too frightening of a prospect as night descended. So she turned to face him, and he practically plowed into her. He grabbed her arms to steady her, worry written in the lines on his face.
“What is this about? I don’t understand.”
No words would tell David what she wanted to communicate to him. Without thinking, she lashed out at him, pounding on his chest, scratching his face.
“I detest you! And I will not go one more mile with you. You will not control me!”
At first, David’s shock allowed her to get in a couple of good blows. But just as soon as she was sure she was going to mar his handsome face, anger—white hot like the stars above, contrasting with the calm night—filled his eyes, and he grabbed her wrists with a f
orce that both surprised and scared her, yanking her close.
“Do you honestly think that I’ve been tryin’ to control you? To force you to go with me?” He shook her, and Elizabeth winced, flames crawling up her side and down her arms. “I just saved your life! I didn’t have to come with you on this reckless journey. I could have let you leave my cabin, free to wander aimlessly and starve or…be eaten by a bear.” The blood drained from her face at the thought, but he wasn’t finished. “You aren’t familiar with this land like I am. I’ve only wanted to help you. To protect you. Don’t you understand?”
“I never asked for you to come! You suggested it yourself.”
Elizabeth cowered, sure that the back of the hand David raised would make contact with her face. Instead, he shoved her, causing her to fall to the dirt. She clutched her side and scooted backward.
With her display of fear, the heat that had roared to life in his eyes melted into icy shock. But the power of the fire had already left its mark.
***
What is happening? David blew out a breath, lifted his head to the twilight sky, and closed his eyes. His arms shook, and his eyes burned behind his eyelids, threatening to embarrass him further. Yet it wasn’t embarrassment that hit him when he looked back down at Elizabeth. It was shame. Horror. What was he doing?
“Elizabeth.” Her name tasted sweet, tempting, like forbidden fruit. She held knowledge—of his past, of his home. She made him feel powerful, helping him remember, helping him forget. Helping him to see things he had never seen before.
But at what cost?
He took a step toward her, and she retreated, her face turned away from him, her skirts stained by the grass and dirt.
“I’m so sorry.”
His gaze was drawn to her side, and it hit him that she was still hurt. He had added to her pain.
A groan seeped from his lips as he stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside her. “Let me see.” He held out a tentative hand, afraid she would stand and run. Her eyes remained on the ground, but she removed her hands from her side, letting him see the torn bodice. The scratches weren’t deep, but when he pulled back some of the material to examine the wound, she winced, and he cringed in response. Though the sun was almost gone, there was enough light to see a large bruise forming, the skin red, but only a few long lines showing drying blood. The bear must have just hit her, trailing his claws rather than digging in. Probably more frustrated than determined to kill.
Standing, he called Liberty to him and rummaged through the saddlebags until he found some bandages. Taking them and his canteen, he knelt back down and cleaned the scratches, then wrapped her side for protection. He worked as quickly and gently as he could, but by the time he was through Elizabeth was shivering violently.
He grabbed an extra shirt from his bag and helped her direct her arms through the sleeves, then buttoned it up for her. Each little button took forever to obey him, and his own hands trembled with a strange fatigue as he buttoned the last one near her neck. His fingers lingered at her throat as their gazes finally met. She swallowed, and he brushed back her tangled hair from her face, longing to make things right between them. “Please forgive me,” he whispered, the words haunting the air between them like the ghosts of his past.
She fiddled with the top button, biting her lip as she glanced back the way they had come. Where they had left the bear behind them. “I’m sorry, too,” she finally said, so low her words seemed an echo of his own. “I didn’t mean to lash out. I just… I’m so…” She hung her head.
Reaching out, he grazed her soft chin with his finger, finding a smile. “I know. It’s been a difficult journey so far.” And it could only get harder. But he wanted to do this. He had to.
Chapter 4
The next morning was gray, and Elizabeth wondered if another storm was coming. She was still reeling from the one that had crackled last night between her and David. Hugging her knees close and tucking her hands inside the sleeves of the shirt he had let her borrow, she waited beside the cold ash that used to be their fire. She didn’t want to wake him up. Didn’t want to disturb him, afraid of what the sleeping bear might do if riled.
Even as she thought it, though, she didn’t think he would truly hurt her.
How long until the sun would clear the clouds away? The hazy morning was making her homesick. What she wouldn’t do to be sitting at the kitchen table beside Sarah Anne, with a hot cup of tea and some sugary cakes to munch on. Yet there was little comfort in the thought, not when she longed for those things so desperately, and not when the guilt chomped on her conscience. She was dead to Sarah Anne. She had to be.
David stirred, a moan escaping him as he sat up in his bedroll and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. A grin touched her lips. He looked like a little boy woken from his nap.
“What?” He smiled in response to her amusement, and just like that, the remnants of their storm dissipated.
“Just thinking what a cute child you must have been.” As soon as the admission left her mouth, a blush rushed up her face. Foolish!
His own face paled, a marked contrast to the color in hers. Was he concerned about her forwardness?
“Tell me about your childhood.” He sounded genuinely interested, albeit quiet. She blew out a breath of gratitude for the diversion from her silly remark.
“Well, I don’t really remember much about my parents. Sarah Anne’s the only family I’ve really known, although we’ve always been close to our neighbors.” She smiled softly at the thought of them. “There are two girls not much younger than me. Let’s see… Louisa is sixteen, and Christy is fifteen. And Amos is nearly twenty-three.”
Staring out at the blue sky peeking through small tears in the clouds, she confessed, “You know, I think Amos is one of the reasons I really want to meet my brother.”
“Why’s that?” David’s voice sounded gruff, scratchy.
“Amos is a great big brother. I guess I’ve been sort of jealous of Christy and Louisa, that they have him around all the time. I can’t believe I truly have a big brother of my own.” She couldn’t hide her excited grin, but it faded when she glanced up and saw David’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. After a moment, he rose and declared, “We should keep moving.”
***
A part of David filled with questions, begging for release. A bigger part couldn’t stand to hear any more. Rage turned the morning sky as red as a foreboding sunrise, although he knew it truly remained as gray as his family’s apathy.
He wasn’t surprised Elizabeth had no memory of him. She was only five when he disappeared, and it must have been not long before her parents passed away. That would be the tragedy she remembered. What had he been to her?
Once, he had been a friend.
Once, he had been part of the neighbor family she held dear.
Once, he had been the one to put a smile on her cherub cheeks with a fistful of forget-me-nots.
His eight-year-old self had brimmed with pride, though he hardly would have admitted it to Amos or any of his school chums. That last summer before the accident, he had spent afternoons running with Elizabeth in the fields. Her squeals whenever he got close enough to touch her arm had him laughing uncontrollably, and they often ended up lying on the grass giggling and guffawing together.
The last time they played chase, though, Elizabeth talked him into picking flowers before they had to return home…
“You have to promise not to tell Amos. Or any of my friends. Or even Louisa or Christy. Promise?”
Elizabeth stared at him thoughtfully, her brows scrunched and her head cocked. “Boys are silly,” she declared, still rooted to the spot on the creek bank, determined to get her way.
“You have to promise, or I won’t do it.” He crossed his arms, straightening his back to emphasize his height, and thus his age.
The sunlight teased her brown hair, and he tried to hide his grin at how mussed the braids had become. The top
of her head looked like a bird’s nest, or a rat’s. Then he frowned as he wondered if he’d get blamed again for bringing her home in an “unladylike condition,” as their mothers called it.
“All right,” she agreed as she shook her head. “I promise. Now let’s go!” She tugged on his hand in an attempt to drag him over to a patch of little blue flowers.
“If I find out you snitched, I’ll never play with you again.” He bent to pluck some stems, his threat only half-hearted. The thought of never spending time with Elizabeth left him feeling lonely. Amos did stuff with him, but his older brother seemed to prefer playing with his group of friends. His younger sisters were too little, and more interested in playing with dolls, anyway. Elizabeth was the only one who really seemed to want his company. If her continued admiration meant picking a few flowers, he could handle it, as long as it remained their secret.
Elizabeth paid his words no mind. She pulled up the flowers by their roots and lovingly held the dirty lengths of them in her hands. He smiled. And she thought boys were silly.
After a few minutes, he extended his handful of flowers to her. Her green eyes lit with delight as she added them to her bunch.
“My ma calls those forget-me-nots,” he told her. “See how they have little yellow suns in the middle? And the petals are blue like the sky? Ma says they help us remember sunny days and stuff.” He still didn’t fully understand why it mattered, but it made him feel smart to tell Elizabeth about their name. She probably didn’t know anything about them.
Her eyes widened as she regarded the flowers in her grip. “That’s a long name.” She tested it out. “For-get-me-nots. Forget-me-nots.”
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s what they’re called.”
