Vestige of Courage

by Sara Blackard

  She snorted, trying to hold the laughter in. She glanced at Chase, who had one eyebrow up like he questioned if she had really just laughed at him. The giggle burst out of her mouth, rushing lightness to her fingers and toes. He shook his head, his mouth tweaking up and his eyes sparkling.

  “So what? You all have managed to tame the wild beasts as well as fly to the moon and create magical worlds that perform in your house?”

  His face lit with a bright smile. He threw his head back and laughed so loud his horse spooked and jumped sideways, almost unseating him. The laugh cut short as he grabbed the saddle horn, throwing her a reprimanding look.

  “What?” she asked smugly.

  “No laughing.” The crinkles at the sides of his eyes belied his stern tone. “You’re likely to unseat me.”

  “Maybe then I can rescue you.” Beatrice turned forward, the lightness of joy slowly leaking to a heaviness of dread as they rode out of the forest into the meadow she’d called home since birth.

  “You wouldn’t be able to lift me to get me on the horse.” He looked her up and down as if he measured her strength.

  She shrugged her shoulder. “That’s not a problem. I’d just drag you home behind the horse.” He stared at her in shock, his eyes wide like a startled deer. “In a travois, silly. I’d make up a travois out of trees so you’d be nice and comfy and drag you in that.”

  He nodded, his shoulders slouching as he rubbed his neck. “You could do it, too. Probably would be able to scrounge up some herbs and such to heal me as well.”

  She shrugged, wondering at the self-deprecating tone of his voice. She understood having doubts, the need to prove herself. Shoot, that’s why she pushed herself so hard to learn how to hit a mark with any weapon, to ghost around the woods so well she could catch a squirrel with her bare hands. Well, she wasn’t exactly sure she could do that, but figured it was close to true.

  Beatrice had never been into girly things like dresses and dolls. Viola had been content to stay inside, learning to cook and sew from their mother before she died. Beatrice always escaped at the first chance she could and would disappear outside. She’d never been able to compare to Viola, so she’d figured she would be the opposite, striving to prove to her father that she belonged in the family, even if it wasn’t in the traditional sense. She shook her head at her thoughts. Her father had never required or expected her to be anything more than who she was, always rejoicing in whatever she chose to do.

  Beatrice gasped, pulling on the reins to stop. The landscape around her home had changed so much she almost hadn’t recognized it. The creek that had run freely through the meadow had disappeared into a dirt-caked trail. A murky pond sat where the clear lake had lined their garden and dominated the clearing. The trees that once circled the meadow in the dark green of pine now barely survived as the dark, rusty maroon of death overpowered the area.

  “What?” Chase scanned around, his hand on the little gun he’d strapped onto his hip before they’d left, the motion so much like Hunter she wondered if Chase realized how much he was like his brother.

  “The trees … they’re all dying.” Her heart broke.

  His shoulders relaxed as he looked around the valley. “Yeah, it’s beetle-killed, like most of Colorado nowadays. I bet it was gorgeous during your time.”

  “It was breathtaking.” Her voice was barely a whisper where it clogged in her throat.

  She urged Storm forward, hesitant to see the cabin but needing to as well. She forced herself to relax and tucked her emotions that bubbled on the surface deep within. What she wanted to do was turn tail and run, galloping back to Chase’s full speed and hide beneath the large blanket that covered her bed. She didn’t think she had the courage to face what she feared was before her. She pulled Storm to a stop and closed her eyes, her breath shuddering from her. Lord, I can’t do this.

  A warm hand eased across her shoulder. The heat of a leg pushed solid against hers. The horses snuffed at each other but didn’t move. She turned her head and opened her eyes. Concern marred Chase’s forehead.

  “We can go back home, Beatrice. You don’t have to do this right now.” His voice softly pushed through fear.

  “I have to,” she whispered, the words almost choking her.

  “I get that.” He nodded, his throat bobbing.

  Her eyebrows crinkled, and she shook her head in confusion. “You Bennett boys and your confusing words.”

  “I understand, Beatrice. I understand that you need to face this. I admire your courage and will be here for you.” He moved his hand down her arm and gripped her hand in his. “But I also know that you went through a lot yesterday. Putting this off until you’ve recovered more isn’t cowardice, Bea. Heck, I’m not even sure I’m ready to face what we’ll find.”

  Beatrice stared into Chase’s face. Though his shoulders were relaxed, his jaw clenched as he glanced around the meadow. In her grief, she forgot her landing here would be just as disorienting for him as it was for her. She could imagine the shock and pain he’d endured the last twenty-four hours, finding her and realizing his brother was gone forever. Yet not once had he not thought of her needs first, pushing everything aside for her. That was even before they’d found the letter from Hunter to Chase that probably ordered him to take care of her.

  Beatrice smiled and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Chase.” He turned his gaze to her, his eyebrow lifting in question. “I think with you here with me, I’ll be just fine.”

  His stare warmed as he held her gaze. He didn’t respond, just rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand and nodded once. She swallowed the thickness in her throat from both the promise written upon his face and the task of moving forward. She squeezed his hand softly before releasing it and turning forward. She couldn’t stay rooted here. She must choose to move forward into hardship or retreat into rest. With Chase’s encouragement, she understood that both options held strength and wisdom. She took a deep breath, tightened the reins in her hands, and nudged Storm forward.

  I think with you here with me, I’ll be just fine. Those words slammed into Chase’s heart and closed his throat so all he could do was nod. Had anyone ever trusted in him as much as she did? He knew the answer right away. He kept everyone at a distance with his fun-loving, let’s find an adventure persona, never letting anyone in. There was a certain solitude in being the life of the party. He was a friend to everyone with no real friends.

  With you here with me. Five small words eased his itchy feet that begged to move on and find the next challenge, keep his viewers happy and clicking the thumbs-up button. Five small words that rooted him beside her, knowing she’d most likely remain here on this mountain forever.

  Chase scoffed at himself, shaking his head as he followed her along a trail through the meadow that lead to a cliff close to the small pond. He didn’t truly know what she wanted. For a while, at least, she’d probably want familiar. She’d need time to adjust, time to decide where to go from here. Which meant he needed to cool his jets that wanted to burn hot and fly away, especially now he knew he’d never find Hunter. Beatrice needed him here, so here he would stay.

  She gasped, pulling him out of his thoughts and focusing his eyes on the remains of a cabin built against the cliff. It was burned and decaying so much most people probably wouldn’t recognize it for what it was, especially with the copse of aspen that grew around it. He almost mistook it for a jumble of burned trees instead of a piece of history.

  Beatrice dismounted and looped the reins around a limb. She stared at the cabin with eyes wide, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she rubbed Storm’s face. Chase pushed his own hesitation and anxiety aside and stopped beside her.

  “Was this your home?” He dismounted and secured the horse. He stepped up beside her as she nodded, tears balancing precariously in her eyes. “Looks like a wildfire came through. Not surprising really, with all the fires Colorado has each year.”

  He willed his trap to lock shut. Of course a wildfire c
ame through. She could see that just as easily as he could. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, rubbing away the anxiety that tightened his muscles and loosened his tongue. He peeked at Beatrice, her breath coming fast and choppy. His eyebrows drew together, and he worried she might hyperventilate. He stepped closer so their hands touched and breathed deeply, hoping she’d mirror the motion.

  “It’s going to be alright, Beatrice,” he whispered.

  She leaned ever so slightly into him, pushing her hand against his. He remembered how people of her time were much more reserved, bound by society’s strict standards. He slowly rotated his hand and threaded his fingers through hers, praying he didn’t offend her. He felt her shoulders lift beside him as she inhaled. She let out a deep breath and clung to his hand.

  “There used to be a barn, right over there.” She pointed off to the side of the cabin, her voice a bit shaky. “It wasn’t big like yours, just large enough for a few horses, our dairy cow, and some chickens. I spent so much time in the hayloft dreaming of adventure and being somewhere else, my pa transported a window in from Denver and built me a bench so I’d have something better to look at than the inside of a log wall.”

  “Your pa sounds like a great guy.” He gave her fingers a squeeze, hoping she’d continue to talk, praying the talking would be healing.

  “He was.” She breathed deeply, the air shaky as it whooshed out. “He was murdered two years—I mean however many years ago—by the brother of the man who attacked me.” He turned his shocked face to her, his mouth wide and his skin tingling. “Linc wanted our gold mine and wanted Viola as his wife, so him and his brothers got the jump on Pa. While his brothers went hunting, Linc beat Pa to death.”

  He closed his mouth and swallowed the lump stuck in his throat. “What happened to Linc and his brothers?”

  “Hunter killed Linc after he kidnapped Viola.” She turned her gaze from the burnt ruins to his face. He tried to ignore the heavy weight of envy that landed in his stomach at the mention of his brother’s heroism. “Robert, Linc’s brother, tried to stop Linc’s schemes, helping hide Viola and keeping William from going with Linc when he stalked the cabin to get her.”

  She stared back to the cabin, her grip not as tight in his hand. He watched as a blank expression shuttered the emotion from her face. She shivered and took another deep breath.

  “It appears that William started obsessing over me after I disarmed him when we rescued Viola. And … well … I guess Pa’s death is paid back in full.”

  The heaviness in his stomach turned ice cold as her shoulders hunched and she turned her face away from him.

  “Beatrice.” Chase pulled her to face him, grabbing her shoulder with his free hand. He rubbed his hand up her shoulder and gently cupped her neck. “You did nothing wrong.” She tried to pull away, but he buried his hand deep into her hair and tightened his fingers, still twined with hers in his other hand, bringing their hands between their bodies. “What happened yesterday was self-defense. If you didn’t fight back, he would’ve killed you.”

  She dropped her gaze to his neck. “When the Sweeneys first started attacking us, I wanted to hunt them down. Take the fight to them before they could do anymore harm. Hunter firmly refused, saying he didn’t want me to ever have the weight of killing someone hanging on me. I thought he was a fool. How could you feel guilty when the death was justified?” She closed her eyes, her exhale ragged, tearing Chase apart. “He was right. All I keep seeing is William’s shock and pain etched into his face, and my knife sticking out of his chest. I keep wondering what I could’ve done different. Maybe if I hadn’t been so distracted in my silly daydreams, he wouldn’t have gotten the jump on me. I feel like I’m smothering under a thick buffalo robe that I can’t seem to get out from under.”

  Her voice ended on a choked sob. He pulled her close, kissing her forehead before tucking her under his chin. She let go of his hand and pulled her arms into her chest. He didn’t blame her retreat. He couldn’t really do anything to help her, not like his brother could have. He was just a goofball who did stunts for money, traveling the world and making people laugh. He never owned up to any responsibility, not like Hunter had. No, he was so worthless that the one person who’d ever needed anything from him stood there, crying for help, and he couldn’t think of a word to say that didn’t have him sounding like an idiot or making the situation worse. He closed his eyes to the burn of tears, pulled her closer, and prayed for wisdom.

  Chapter 8

  May 23, 1880

  Beatrice, I’ve transplanted some aspens by the barn. I know it’s probably not the smartest idea, but I love the sounds of aspen leaves clapping together in the breeze and the way they paint their branches with gold in the fall. They’ll probably overrun the place. Orlando stood staring at them, his head shaking, last time they visited. I told him I love the music they make, so my future generations can worry about what to do when the trees become a problem. Always, Viola

  Beatrice curled into Chase’s embrace, the weight of guilt somehow easing in his strong arms. He didn’t condemn her for being a murderer. Didn’t turn away from her, repulsed. He pulled her in and whispered prayers of healing into her hair.

  If only it could be that simple. That a prayer could erase the anguish etched into her soul. How did Hunter function with the weight? She wished she could talk to him about it, tell him he was right. Maybe he’d be able to help her throw the heaviness from her.

  She always figured the west was rough and uncivilized, that sometimes you had to choose between killing someone and surviving. She knew she was a bit impulsive, willing to do whatever it took to protect her family.

  Yet she hadn’t been protecting her family when William found her. William wasn’t the monster his brother Linc had been. No, William was a product of the monster, abused and tormented until his mind had broken. She should have tried to talk to him, get him to realize the twist his brain had made. Help him to see he didn’t have to live in torment anymore. Hadn’t Robert accepted Christ and turned his life around? It could’ve been possible for William as well, that is if she hadn’t cut his life short. Shoot, maybe it all started when she didn’t keep her smart mouth shut and egged him on while saving Viola. Maybe she was a monster, just like Linc.

  Chase stiffened and brought both his hands to her face, forcing her to stare in his eyes, as blue as the wide open sky. His cheek flexed in frustration. “You are not a monster,” he said with so much force she flinched.

  How had she voiced that out loud? She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. She was slipping, like the knitting needles had dropped out and her stitches were pulling loose. She needed to get herself together if she wasn’t going to end up unraveled completely.

  “Beatrice, please look at me.”

  She slowly lifted her eyes, and he nodded in encouragement.

  “I understand that you feel guilty. I wish Hunter was here instead of me. He’d know what to say to help you. He’s been through it, where I’ve done nothing of consequence my entire life.”

  She shook her head in confusion. Hunter had told her all the amazing things Chase had done, traveling the world and raising awareness for those less fortunate.

  He scowled. “No, it’s true. I don’t know how to help you come to terms with the guilt, Beatrice, but I’m here to tell you that you are not a monster. You are the victim. You did nothing to deserve being attacked.”

  “I egged William on when his brother took Viola, practically challenged him.” She breathed out shakily.

  “Beatrice, come on. I know it’s a different world back then, but someone who is a monster would not feel like you do. Wouldn’t be asking themselves what they should’ve done to change the outcome.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. What all had she said aloud?

  He breathed a small laugh as he placed his palm upon her cheek. “It’s written all over your beautiful face, like you’re replaying the moment bit by bit to figure out where you could’ve acted different. It�
�s okay to feel guilty and sad by what happened. You will probably need to talk to someone about that when you’re ready. But I’m telling you right now, this was not your fault.”

  She looked at him in doubt. How could he be so sure? He didn’t know her, didn’t know how she always rushed into situations. Hadn’t her impulsiveness gotten Viola kidnapped in the first place? If she and Hunter had stayed put like Hunter wanted instead of rushing off, Linc never would’ve had the opportunity to take Viola. William wouldn’t have focused his revenge on Beatrice.

  “Beatrice, stop. Stop. I want you to think for a second, really look at your interactions with William. Close your eyes and think,” Chase insisted as his fingers massaged the back of her neck. He breathed out, the chocolate from the sweet candy they’d eaten on the trail wafting into her nose, soothing her. “Lord, open Beatrice’s eyes so she sees the truth. Help her, Lord.”

  She breathed in the prayer, letting it soak into her soul. While she wanted to scoff at the words, she asked the Lord to show her what she should’ve done different. The encounter with Linc played through her head, how everyone had been on edge, waiting to see if Linc would hurt Viola or not. She remembered holding the words in that wanted to spew from her mouth, not wanting to escalate the situation any more than it already was.

  When it all was done and Linc was dead, she thought about how she had refused to look at William whose gaze had bounced from his dead brother to her. She’d felt the urging of the Spirit to stay back, to disengage though she wanted to rile at the remaining brothers for their part in her pa’s death. She’d held her tongue though every fiber in her wanted to lash out at the injustice of her father’s murder, to heave her grief and anger upon the men who had cowered behind their brother as Linc had unleashed his violence upon her family. But she hadn’t. She’d allowed River to turn her attention to the missing horses and ride away without a word.