by Karen Kirst
“You have a life-threatening injury, that’s why,” she retorted, exasperation twisting her mouth. “For once in your life, accept that you have limitations. You’re not invincible, Caleb O’Malley. Thought you would’ve learned that by now.”
The words hung in the air, the implication quite plain. She meant he should’ve learned his lesson two years ago, the night he’d dared Adam to break into the sawmill yard.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time he saw her. Back in August, he and his brother Nathan had been delivering milk and cheese to Clawson’s Mercantile when they’d crossed paths. Her derision and anger, entirely justified, had practically reached out and strangled the life out of him.
“I know how difficult this must be for you,” he scraped out. “No one would’ve blamed you if you’d left me to freeze out there. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but my family can take it from here. No need to impose on your hospitality any longer.”
Shock crystalized in the jade orbs. “You think I’m that coldhearted? You think I’d leave you t-to...” She flung out an arm. Emotion rippled through her lithe form. “Just because I despise everything you stand for doesn’t mean I’d wish death upon you.” Pushing hair away from her face, she turned her back on him. Stalked away from the bed.
“I didn’t mean to imply...” He sighed, frustrated at the weakness invading his body again. Waves of it, jumbling his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Becca.” For all of it.
Slowly spinning on her heel, ivory cotton housecoat flaring around slim ankles encased in thick, gray wool stockings, she shot him a probing look. “What happened to you?”
It appeared as if he was going to have to level with her. If she knew the danger he was putting her and her sister in, she’d no doubt pack him off so fast his head would spin.
“I saw something I shouldn’t have.” He debated how many details to divulge. Decided she was strong enough to handle the truth. “Sheriff Tate was murdered two nights ago.”
Trembling fingers lifted to cover parted lips. Eyes huge in her face, she came closer and sank down on the wooden chair facing the bed. “You saw this?”
Every last gory detail. The helplessness resurfaced in his chest. He’d never be able to oust Tate’s horrified expression from his memory. Never. “I was out riding later than usual, had delayed setting up camp because I’d decided to swing by my folks’ for a quick visit.” No use mentioning he’d planned to stop here first and leave parcels of fresh deer meat, something he’d been doing off and on since that encounter in August. Anonymously, of course. “I stumbled upon a nightmare. At first, they didn’t see me. Preoccupied with their prey, I suppose.” His lip curled with disgust. “They had him surrounded. On his knees, hands tied behind his back. The leader, she—”
“She?” Becca blurted, dumbfounded. “Surely you don’t mean...”
“Knocked me back, too.” He shifted, sucked in a harsh breath at the resulting ache. His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
“Do you need more pain relief?” She scooted closer, her too-perceptive eyes grave.
Beneath the covers, he fisted his hands. “No.” His brain was fuzzy enough without adding medicine to the mix. He had to focus on convincing her to help him get home.
“What was a female doing with a gang of criminals?”
“I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but to me she looked like...” His jaw tensed, picturing the bitter reproach marring the blonde’s features. “She looked like a woman who’d been rebuffed.”
“You think she and Tate were involved romantically?”
“Could be. Or she was interested and he wasn’t.” Only, why kill him if it was a simple rejection? This woman had seemed deeply distressed.
“There has to be more to it than that,” she echoed his unspoken sentiments. Tapping her chin, she mused, “Under what circumstances would a woman on the wrong side of the law associate with a lawman?”
“I don’t know.” Though the lack of answers bothered him, the main issue here was justice. “I do know how to identify them, however, and I aim to do whatever it takes to make certain they pay for what they did. That’s why I need to see Shane Timmons.”
Concern flowed over her features, and this time she didn’t attempt to hide it. “Did they get a good look at you?”
“Hard to say. I was positioned on the edge of a clearing, and there was a full moon. The storm was still south of us. I know for certain they saw Rebel.”
She nodded. “With his distinctive markings, he won’t be hard to identify.”
And if they did glimpse Caleb’s face, his scar would make it easy for them to locate him.
“Now do you understand why I have to leave?”
Popping up, she began to pace. “I can’t let you go.”
His heart suffered a series of palpitations. Oh, he knew she meant it literally, not figuratively. Still, the words hurled him backward in time to when they were teenagers, to when he’d envied Adam’s good fortune, had wondered what it would be like to have a girl like Becca—beautiful, sweet-natured, affectionate—head over heels in love with him.
He’d cared about his best friend’s girl a little more than he should have.
“You have to.”
She whirled on him, hot color splashing across her cheekbones. “I don’t have to do anything. You are not leaving until you’ve improved or the doctor comes to take you away.”
“Why, Rebecca Thurston, I do believe you’ve developed a backbone,” he drawled, fascinated by this unusual display of temper. Her eyes blazed with an internal strength not present when they’d been friends. What had happened in her life to forge such a change?
* * *
He’d noticed, had he? In his mind, she was still the naive, eager-to-please, hopelessly-in-love-with-love young girl with big dreams and an even bigger future. Well, things changed. People changed.
That love-struck teenager was long gone. Did he realize he was the one responsible for her disappearance?
“Yes, well, I’m all grown up now.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And I’m obviously the only one thinking rationally at the moment.”
Caleb didn’t immediately respond. The flicker of humor in his eyes sputtered out, and he studied her with his hooded, enigmatic gaze. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The old Caleb, rarely serious, had been armed with ready, lighthearted quips to combat each and every call to reason.
“My presence here is putting you at risk.” Why are you placing my safety above your own? his expression prompted.
Why indeed? He was right to be worried. The murder of a sheriff was a heinous crime, one that wouldn’t be taken lightly. Knowing this, the criminals responsible wouldn’t stop until they’d located the witness. If they’d seen his scar...
Shivering, she rubbed her upper arms. The fire needed to be lighted, Flossy milked and the eggs collected. Breakfast cooked. Bread made.
But first, this matter had to be settled. Because no matter what he’s done, I can’t in good conscience send him out there in his current condition.
“Even if I brought Rebel to the front door and helped you mount him, you wouldn’t make it past the property fence. Your fever is indicative of an infection.”
“The bullet could still be lodged in my leg. Did you check for an exit wound?”
Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I didn’t think to.”
“Is this your first gunshot wound?”
“Is it your first?”
“My first and only, I hope.” His lips compressed into a tight line, as if he was perturbed she’d ask such a thing. But how was she supposed to know what kind of life he’d led? He was rarely home anymore, preferring to spend most of his time hunting and trapping in the high country. A blessing, in her opinion.
“I suppose I’ll
need to check it,” she reluctantly acknowledged.
Tending his wound while he was unconscious was one thing. Having him awake and watching her every move would strain her nerves to the limit.
A lump in her throat, she approached the bed and, folding the quilts back, checked the compress. “I—I’ll try not to cause you further pain.”
Eyes closed and face averted, he muttered, “Just do what you gotta do.”
Gingerly slipping her hand beneath his knee, she lifted his leg, wincing at the breath hissing between his teeth.
“No exit wound.” She carefully covered him, heart knocking against her rib cage. She knew what his next words would be before he uttered them.
“The bullet needs to come out.”
Dread settled like a pile of rocks in her stomach. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Caleb. I have very little knowledge when it comes to these things. Ma always tended Pa’s nicks and scrapes.”
Adam’s injuries had been tended by a doctor. Her responsibilities had been limited to giving him water and mopping his forehead with a wet towel. And holding his hand, offering her support, her unending devotion—which he ultimately rejected.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was any other alternative.” Regret was carved into his austere features.
“Give me a minute.” Although she didn’t really have a choice, she craved a moment to wrap her mind around the ghastly task facing her.
Crossing to the hearth on wobbly legs, she extracted logs from the firebox and placed them in the fireplace. Lit the fire.
“Time to go outside, Storm.” Stumpy tail quivering, Storm followed Rebecca to the door, diving into the snow that was in some places taller than her. The blast of arctic air stole Rebecca’s breath. While the snow had stopped, it was clearly too deep to attempt a ride into town on Toby. She’d hoped...
With a heavy sigh, she tied back the cheery yellow curtains on the windows on either side of the door. Tugging the lapels of her housecoat together at the throat, she returned to his side. Stiffened her spine.
“All right, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Four
“I don’t think I can do this.” The cold metal tweezers sat awkward and heavy in her damp palm.
Grim-faced, Caleb gripped the mattress edge. His eyes were dark and flat.
“We don’t have a choice, do we? Besides, the sooner you get this thing outta me, the sooner I can be on my way.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she griped. “You’re not the one assuming the role of surgeon.” Rebecca glanced down, the sight of the jagged wound causing nausea to swirl up.
“I can’t do this.” She swallowed hard, feverishly sending up petitions for God to rescue her.
“Becca, look at me.”
Doing as he ordered, she met a gaze that was now as sharp as a rapier’s edge.
“Take a good, long look at this scar on my face. Think back to the night I convinced your intended to sneak into the sawmill, to the night I condemned him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”
“No.” The blunt words sent a shock of icy water through her veins. This topic was not up for discussion. Why bring it up now? After all this time of avoiding the obvious?
His eyes narrowed. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be happily ensconced in married life. You and Adam would’ve already had children by now. He told me how eager you were to build a family with him. How many did he say you wanted? Four?” His ragged voice seemed to taunt her. “Or was it five?”
How dare he toss her shattered hopes, her bleak and broken future, in her face as if they meant nothing? Of course, they didn’t mean anything to him. Caleb had been self-centered, refusing to consider how his words and actions affected those around him.
Anger surged, the fiery heat of it flushing the surface of her skin. “You’re right. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can forget you exist.” Wielding the blunt-tip tweezers, she was prepared to do whatever necessary to rid her home of this odious man.
Something akin to remorse passed over his taut face a second before his lids slid closed, shutting her out. Burrowing his head deeper into the pillow, he braced himself.
Glad she’d decided to send Amy to the barn, Rebecca set her jaw and proceeded to retrieve the lead ball. Caleb flinched, fingers digging into the ticking. His anguished groans bounced off the walls and straight into her heart.
I refuse to feel sorry for him, she silently vowed. He only has himself to blame for this mess. The swift reminder that he’d been an innocent bystander was snuffed out by the flames of outrage.
Locating the foreign object, which thankfully hadn’t gone deep, she carefully extracted and dropped the hateful thing in a bowl.
“It’s out.” Heart hammering as the reality of what she’d done slammed into her, she dropped the tweezers onto the bedside table and vowed to dispose of them. She never wanted to set eyes on the tool again.
He didn’t immediately respond. “Caleb?”
He lay there, hands still twisted in the ticking, oblivious to his surroundings. The agony of the procedure must’ve been too much for him.
Emotions knotting beneath her sternum, Rebecca brushed angrily at rogue tears. She absolutely would not cry over Caleb O’Malley.
“By the way, I wanted four,” she muttered. “Three boys and a girl.”
* * *
Head reeling, Rebecca emerged from the cabin just as Amy popped up from the rocking chair positioned beneath the window and nearly made her upend the bloodied water atop her boots.
“Amy! What are you doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the barn.” Her breath puffing out in a cloud, the crystal-frosted air seeped beneath her collar and stole up her skirts. She shivered. Then, Caleb’s distress still reverberating in her ears, she studied her sister’s face for signs of anxiety. “How long have you been here? Did you hear—”
“Nothing. I didn’t hear a peep.” She held up her hands. “I’ve only been out here a minute.”
Moving to the railing, Rebecca did a slow sweep of the level clearing that contained their barn and outbuildings, then the forested mountainsides rising up on three sides of their quiet cove. For the first time, her beloved forests took on a menacing quality. Even though the fullness of summer had retreated, the parade of spindly branches coated with white powder that sparkled like diamonds in sunlight and the trees she admired for their towering beauty and strength could be hiding outlaws intent on locating the one witness who could identify them.
Setting the bowl on the floorboards, she crouched beside the rocking chair. Leveling with Amy might not be Rebecca’s preferred choice, but it would keep her sister safe. “Caleb got hurt because he saw something he shouldn’t have. Men are searching for him. Lawless men. Until he leaves, I need for you to stay close to the cabin. Don’t wander into the woods alone. If you see someone coming that you don’t recognize, holler for me. Go inside and lock yourself in, no matter where I am.”
Her brow furrowed. “What did he see?”
Something no one should have to witness. The shadows chasing his eyes, the barely concealed horror, were proof enough of that. “That’s Caleb’s tale to tell, not mine.”
The light smattering of freckles across Amy’s nose became more pronounced. “What will these men do if they find him?”
Rebecca hesitated a fraction of a second too long.
“They’ll finish off the job, won’t they? They’ll kill him.” Shooting to her feet, Amy set her jaw, a gesture that meant she was convinced her way was right. “We have to keep him safe.”
Pushing to her feet, Rebecca said, “He won’t be here much longer. We’re taking him into town, to Doc Owens, as soon as he’s able to withstand the trip.”
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Amy gestured to their surroundings. “There
must be at least two feet of snow on the ground, three or more in some places. Toby would never make it out of the cove. Even if we tried to reach town with Rebel, can you honestly say Caleb would survive this cold in his condition?”
She stared at her thirteen-year-old sister, who sounded far more reasonable than Rebecca felt. That’s because, unlike me, she’s not desperate to be rid of him.
“Obviously, he can’t be moved today. We’ll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”
I’m begging You, God, please take this burden from me. Make it possible for Caleb to reach the doctor. Or his family’s homestead.
Sam and Mary O’Malley believed their son was hunting in the high country, off on another of his prolonged absences. They had no idea he lay gravely injured on the opposite side of town, a stone’s throw from home. Rebecca frowned. They should be notified, but at the moment that was impossible. And the least of her worries.
“Is he awake?” Hefting the brimming milk pail, Amy paused before the door.
“No.”
“I’ll try not to disturb him, then.”
Rebecca didn’t immediately follow her inside. Instead, she forged her way through the snow in order to dispose of the dirty water behind the cabin, all the while straining for any unusual sights or sounds. Disquiet skittered through her mind. Thanks to Caleb’s arrival on her doorstep, she no longer felt safe in her own home.
Hurrying back inside, she found Amy in the kitchen putting the kettle on to heat. Rebecca intercepted her skating glances toward the bed dominated by Caleb’s unmoving form. Worry tugged her sister’s mouth into a frown.
His presence here was troubling her sister. That wasn’t acceptable, particularly considering the long months it had taken Amy to recover from their parents’ sudden deaths. One more reason he needed to be moved as quickly as possible.
Forcing her feet to his bedside, Rebecca attempted to remain detached as she took in his skin’s chalky whiteness, the shadows beneath his eyes, the pained furrow between his brows signaling his silent anguish. Attempted and failed miserably. This was a man with whom her past was irrevocably intertwined—they’d attended the same one-room schoolhouse since they were children, the same church, the same celebrations, weddings, funerals. Caleb O’Malley was as familiar to her as her own family. They’d been linked, Caleb and her, and Adam had been the glue holding them together.
