Brighter Tomorrows

by Beverly Wells

  “You think I’m still in love with my wife?” His baritone raised an octave as his fingers pulled away. His eyes drilled hers. “I loved Bethany with all my heart. I regret our life together was cut short. And I’ll treasure what we had and her memory forever. But I do not pine for her. I carry tremendous guilt because I failed to protect her. For three years, I’ve avoided any relationship with any woman because I feared I’d somehow fail to protect her. Until now. I want to look forward to brighter tomorrows. Maybe we could have them if you would trust me…if you’d give us a chance.”

  The air hung silent. She longed to trust him, yet she instinctively fought to keep under stern restraint. If she lost at love a second time, she would lose her mind, certainly. His blue eyes softened to match a quiet lake warmed by the sun, offering soothing caresses if one dared venture into the waiting water. Reading the sincerity, the honesty that drew her in like a magnet, she longed to surrender. If he knew her shameful story, he would walk away. She had sinned. Now, she would pay the price. Oh, yes, fear was a potent force for both of them, but withholding the truthful entirety would rock any foundation they might try to build together.

  Glancing down, she studied the ground and found courage. “He didn’t simply walk away and break my heart. You’re a good man, and you need to know the truth so you can find someone worthy of you. After I explain, if you would not say anything and just go inside, it will be easier for both of us. Tomorrow, we can pretend tonight never happen. You’ll do your job, leave, and I’ll continue—as always.”

  A slight breeze chilled her, and she realized perspiration coated her skin. Her heart beat a tattoo on her rib cage. She could do this…

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Chase caught her bitterness and hurt, understood her distrust and fear to give her heart again. But there could only be one reason she would feel unworthy. He ached for her. It took all his willpower not to drag her into his arms. She needed to share the pain, vent her woes—or she would never be able to accept what he wanted to offer. She needed to resurrect her trust, rebuild her self-esteem—if he’d guessed his cards correctly—and open her heart to a new beginning. He avoided agreeing to her terms.

  She leaned back against the bench as dusk settled in and the orange glow off in the distance fell to just above those tree tops.

  “Robert courted me for almost two years. I knew he carried a flame for another. We even discussed someday having a family. I thought he’d get over Linda’s rebuff and I believed he loved me, though he never said the words. Over the next six months, we…we became intimate.” She clutched her hands together.

  “One night, he’d had a few drinks and we were…together. He called me Linda. I convinced myself I heard wrong.” She swallowed. “The next week, when the same thing happened more clearly, I became angry, but thought he’d finally realize he wanted me—not her.”

  She focused on the trees ahead. “Several weeks went by and…again, in a heated moment, he finally said he loved me.” She made a fist and rubbed it with her other hand. “I knew joy as never before...until he followed it with ‘Linda’.” She bowed her head.

  “I felt as if my heart had been savagely ripped out of my chest. What I had believed as being in love, making love that was gratifying and meaningful, turned into nothing more than sex—dirty and vulgar. Then, realization hit me. For two years, he had used me…used me as a substitute. Every time he kissed me, held my hand, made love…he had been thinking of her.

  “So, now I’m distrustful and have chosen the life I’ve accepted. I’m used merchandise. I refused to be walked on, lied to, and hurt like that ever again. For two years, I contended with scorn from those who believed me a fallen woman, or pitying glances from others. Ashamed, I sold my father’s business and moved here. I hate my own name—Calinda.”

  Silence hung heavy as wet snow. He felt the leashed tension build inside her. She would shatter into a hundred broken pieces if he allowed her to continue on this dangerous course.

  She ran her palms up and down her forearms, trembling as if she were ice cold. “Please go in, I’d like to sit out here for awhile. Tomorrow, we’ll go on as before.”

  She tried to be tough. But she wasn’t, not deep down. She wore a smiling face every day for others; yet inside, deep down, she continued to shed tears. And he loved her all the more.

  He took her two hands within his, brought them to his lips and kissed them. She gasped, and quaked. She looked like a frightened rabbit staring an eagle in the eye. Releasing her hands in one deft motion, he pulled her into his embrace, and cradled the back of her head against his chest.

  “Now, you’ll hear me out.”

  She stiffened within his embrace.

  “I’m sorry he used you, wronged you, and hurt you. But his selfish thoughtlessness in no way reflects on you. He may have taken your innocence, but you are the same caring, ambitious, talented woman you’ve always been. You made a mistake; we all have. We’re human. You gave him your love, every way you knew how. Most men would be honored by such a show of love.”

  She leaned back, peering up at him. “Not many could overlook I’m not a…virgin.”

  “If you were a widow, it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not as if you slept around. You gave your innocence in good faith. That’s the difference. Besides, I’m not any man. And what I see, I like…inside, even more.” He brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead.

  “You make is it sound so simple.”

  “It is, if we’re willing to try. If I work on putting my fear of losing you aside, are you willing to see if you can trust me? We might have something very special if we give it time.”

  Her lips quivered, and tears pool in her eyes. A tear slowly leaked out and ran down her cheek. “I haven’t cried in five years.” She swatted the moisture from her cheek. “I’m…scared.”

  Again, he lifted her chin. “Let’s see if there is more to this.” His lips found hers. He went gently, so she would not take flight.

  His good intentions flew away as if they rode a mounting gust across the prairie. Her lips tasted sweet as her applesauce and felt soft as rose petals. When she leaned into him, returning the kiss with equal pressure, he battled not to devour her.

  Pulling back, he ended the sheer bliss. Her tears released as if a flood had burst through a dam. She shuddered as a gut-wrenching sob tore from her lips. When she buried her tear-streaked face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, he held her tight, rubbing her back and rocking her as she wept softly. His chest expanded as he realized she had found solace in him enough to release all her pent up torment.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  After ambling back to the house hand-in-hand, Callie extinguished the oil lamps, other than the one each of them carried, while Chase bolted the front door for the night. She wondered if he would treat her to another feverish kiss. She longed to see if it was as potent as the last. As they stood at the bottom of the staircase saying goodnight, the outside bell clanged. Callie jumped, making Chase laugh.

  “Easy, sweetheart. I doubt anyone up to no good would be ringin’ the bell.” He nonetheless, drew his gun, placed his lamp on the flat-top newel and pushed the door’s curtain back. “It’s all right. It’s one of my men.” Opening the door, he ushered Henry inside. Chase made the introductions and assured Henry he could speak freely.

  “Sorry to disturb ya, but I thought ya’d wanna know they’re jist the other side of the south ridge. Figure they might take a notion ta pay us a visit tomorrow since they got here early. What do ya think?”

  The man appeared so calm you would have thought they were discussing her apple orchard.

  “I think you’re right, Henry. If they got here late tomorrow like we thought, they’d wait until after the Fourth and strike. It sure as hell wouldn’t make sense for them sit it out for an extra day. I’ll come with you to make sure everyone’s aware and ready to party first thing tomorrow.” Henry nodded as Chase turned to her.

  “You have an extra key I can
take? That way, you can leave the bolt off and lock the door so I can get in, if it’s real late.”

  Fear at what would happen tomorrow sunk in like a lead ball to her chest. “Yes…I’ll get it.” She scooted down the hall, returning in less than a minute.

  “Henry, give us a minute, and I’ll be right out.”

  “Meet ya out on the porch.” He nodded to Callie. “Nice to meet ya, ma’am,” he said, making a beeline through the doorway.

  Their gazes met and Chase cupped her face between his palms, his fingers gently caressing her cheeks. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’re only going to make sure everyone knows their parts. I may be back late, so don’t wait up. I’ll need to get up before sunrise so I can coordinate everything before the bank opens at nine.”

  “I have a Seth Thomas alarm clock I brought from Virginia. I’ll set it for five—if that’s all right with you—then fix you breakfast before you leave. I’ll need to see you before you go. Please.”

  “I’d like that. Just seeing your face before I leave will start my day off right.” He kissed her, slow and gentle. Her heartbeat fluttered.

  “Hmmm,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against him. Feeling his arousal, her blood surged hot and wild through her veins.

  “We’ll resume this discussion another time. I need to leave now, or I won’t leave at all.” He gave her a peck on the lips, winked and grabbed his Stetson. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Another cup of coffee?” Callie asked, covering her mouth as she yawned.

  Chase pushed back his chair and stood. “No thanks, but I appreciate you getting up to fix me breakfast. Henry’ll be here any minute. He’s bringing my horse in case we need to ride.”

  They walked down the hall and stopped by the hall tree. He already wore his guns, and had forgone wearing his suit coat today. He looked good either way, but oh my, he looked so very much more the Texan without the coat.

  He turned toward her. “You bakin’ your corn bread today?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to do loads of laundry, and lots of cleaning so I don’t have to think. I won’t bake the bread until tomorrow afternoon. That way, I can cover the pans with a quilt and they’ll stay warm. I’ll go watch the games and visit for an hour or two in the afternoon, then come back to bake.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it down to a science.” He hesitated. “Just promise you’ll stay out of town today. For me.”

  Their gazes met, each saying a thousand words silently.

  “I promise. And you be careful. For me. Will you have someone tell me when it’s over?” Her attempt to smile failed.

  “I will. Most shop owners do their banking first thing, and others, usually right after lunch. If I have him pegged correctly, he’ll wait until late morning or early afternoon, when the crowd is thinner.”

  He crushed her to him, devouring her lips, robbing her of all thought. She matched his passion. He pulled back and gazed at her with so much emotion she trembled. “Henry should be outside by now. Hold all your thoughts till I get back.”

  He turned, placed his Stetson. She followed him out to road. She greeted Henry, and Chase mounted. She watched the two walk their horses toward town.

  Ready to turn and go inside, Callie stopped when she saw Chase halt and twist in the saddle. “Just in case,” he yelled so loud the birds overhead took flight, “I love you. More than life itself. Just sayin’…so you know.” His grin matched that of a cocky, pleased little boy.

  Her heart almost took flight with the birds. “It’s a helluva time to tell me,” she bellowed loud enough for anyone down the road to hear. “I love you too, and you better come back to me. Just sayin’.”

  Chase and Henry both hooted and set their mounts to jogging.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Callie scrubbed clothes to lessen her rioting nerves. As she hung out the towels, she sputtered. Of all the times to profess his love, he had to yell it while going off to a shootout. She smiled, remembering the look on his face, his laughter. Don’t you leave me now.

  “Well, now, ain’t that the purdiest sight,” a voice, scratchy and sinister, sneered from ten feet behind her.

  Callie’s fingers froze against the line. Sheer black fright ran through her. If this was Amos Marten, why would he be here, now, unless…unless he had been following Chase’s moves. Dear Heavenly Father. Please help me…help Chase…the others.

  “Was that smile fer me, sweet cheeks, or Chasey-boy?”

  Her fear turned to fury. This vile vermin had no right to slander her love for Chase. She wouldn’t step aside and allow him to hurt him or use her to curtail Chase’s mission. Somehow, she had to get a message to Chase—or figure out how to best this creature herself. Think.

  “You look at me, woman. I was countin’ on diddlin’ ya but I jist as soon put a bullet in ya if ya don’t behave better. Ya hear?”

  That did it! She’d kill the slug herself before the sun had time to set. No one would use her for their own purpose ever again. He had signed his death warrant with Chase years ago, with plenty more, too; and now, he’d just added one more to the roster.

  She turned and nearly threw up. His pinched face, wizened from years of hard-core living, resembled a rat—not hard to believe—his scruffy beard and straggly filthy brown hair were sure to be infested with lice, having a rip-roaring field day. Cold, black eyes leered as threatening as a coiled rattler.

  He glared, and she returned the favor. She needed to think, to somehow foil his plan. “What do you want?”

  “Well, now that’s right nice to ask.”

  She was tempted to throw caution to the wind.

  “I be wantin’ what yuv been givin’ ta the boy. “

  Vulgar monster! “It isn’t like that.”

  “Oowee! Ya don’t say. Never had me no virgin before. Hot damn!” He slapped his thigh with his left hand. “Hit the jackpot on this one. Now, ya stop that glarin’ and let’s you and me go inside and get real cozy-like.”

  She glanced at the basket of clothes.

  “I meant now. Don’t git me riled.”

  “Fine, but I’m taking the clothes. Anyone, even animals, could take them.” She picked up the basket, marched around the side and to the front. On the porch, she set the basket down. “Thank you. They’re wet, so I’ll leave them here, except these.” She grabbed two towels so she’d have an excuse to go to the kitchen. Would anyone realize the basket was her distress signal?

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Fifteen men dispersed throughout the town on a mission most were not privy to.

  At two minutes to nine, Chase and Matt tied their horses in front of Harper’s and ambled toward the bank. Marianne, holding a small leather satchel, stood behind an elderly couple.

  “Good morning, Miss Grover. Nice to see you again.” Matt, grinning like a fool, spoke and nodded.

  “Good morning to both of you. Time got away from me yesterday and I didn’t make it to the bank. I need change before I open.” Marianne glanced up at Matt and Chase, smiling.

  The bank president, Mr. Williams, opened the door, called out a greeting, and announced they were open for business.

  “I think Callie is mighty keyed-up about finishing her upstairs. I never thought to see anything mar her porch.” She moved up to the teller window as the couple finished.

  A warning whispered in Chase’s head. As soon as Marianne stuffed her money in her satchel, Chase directed her to the far corner. “What about Callie’s porch?”

  “She left a laundry basket, full of clothes, right in the middle of the porch above the steps. I wish I’d had time to stop and tease her, but I needed to get the bank before I opened.”

  His blood iced over thicker than on a pond in February. Fear like he had never known seized his heart.

  Marianne’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s no time. We’ll take care of Callie. Promise you’ll go to your shop and s
tay there.”

  “I…promise.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Callie led him to the kitchen and set the towels on the counter. Could she grab a knife? Her mind spun.

  “Sure smells good in here. Bacon’s my favorite. Ya got some left? I could eat me some before I take my fill of you.”

  “I can fry some in a minute. Eggs, too.”

  He eyed her. “Well now, ain’t that obligin’.” He plunked down on the chair at the work table and kept his gun pointed in her direction. “Two eggs, three bacons. Make it quick. My pecker needs carin’ for before I gotta take care of business. Name’s Amos Marten. Ya oughta know who’s gonna diddle ya.”

  Vulgar…She set a cup of coffee in front of him. She’d love to serve him hot grease. When the bacon sizzled, she stared. As young teenagers, her brother had taught her to flick. They had contests using plates, and fry pans, lighter with shallower sides than cast. Could she do it?

  She placed a table setting in front of him. After cracking two eggs into another pan, she lifted the skillet with a pot holder, wiggled her wrist to test the weight. She’d use two hands today due to the added weight. A possible life with Chase and many other lives depended on her. Those incentives boosted her fortitude to hurl a blacksmith’s anvil.

  After serving his eggs, she returned to the stove. Tightening her grip on the handle, she hefted the skillet using two hands. “I don’t want to splatter you. I’ll hold the pan, if you’ll remove the three strips with your fork.”

  As soon as he finished, he held his fork in his left hand and kept the gun in his right. She took two steps toward the stove, then turned her head to see him chomp bacon. Tipping the pan to what she prayed was the correct angle for the grease to slosh out freely, she gave the pan handle the hardest flick she had ever done.

  Hot grease spewed through the air like a thin horizontal waterfall. Marten shrieked as the scalding oil reddened and instantly blistered patches across his face. His gun zoomed through the air like an arrow. As if painted blazing red, his hands swelled before her frightened eyes. His shirt and pants were coated, and looked melted to his skin. Scrambling to his feet, quaking and shaking as if convulsing, he fought to pull the material from his heated skin. He howled and screeched.