by Caroline Lee
He’d left her. Oh God, he’d left her.
Rojita was shaking so hard that she thought she might collapse. The sobs caught her by surprise, and she couldn’t tell if she was crying because her brother was hurt, or because she’d just killed a man, or because when all she needed—desperately needed—was Hank’s arms around her, he’d gone to collect his reward.
She was a fool, just like he’d called her. She was reckless and brash and would do it all over again, if she had to. He might’ve lost all respect for her when she’d broken her promise, but if she hadn’t he’d be dead now. No matter what happened now, at least she knew that he was alive and safe.
That didn’t stop the tears, though, and when she felt the light touch on her shoulder, Rojita threw herself into her grandmother’s arms. Abuela held her while she sobbed, lightly patting her back and whispering soft words of comfort. Rojita let herself cry, still not sure why.
After what seemed like ages, she noticed that Abuela wasn’t wearing her red cloak anymore. Wiping her eyes and looking around, Rojita spotted it covering Micah. Doc Carpenter was organizing some of the returning townspeople to carry her brother towards his office at the end of the street, and she gasped when she realized what that meant.
“Micah’s cabeza is hard, the doctor says. And the bullet, it just grazed him.” Rojita had seen the blood pouring out of her brother’s forehead when she’d gone to him, but had been relieved to see that it was mostly across his brow and temple. He must’ve been turning already when the bullet found him. She groped for her grandmother’s hands, willing her to report good news. “He will have a scar over his eye, maybe more. But he will live, gracias a Dios.”
Saying a prayer of thanksgiving herself, Rojita squeezed Abuela’s hands, and felt the old woman’s strength when she squeezed back. They watched Micah being carried down Andersen Avenue—where had all of these bystanders been when they needed help, just a few minutes ago?—and Rojita saw the ends of her red cloak flutter in the breeze. “I’m glad you used the cloak. The blood will show less.”
Abuela clucked her tongue. “Let the cloak be ruined, mi hija. It has served its purpose, no? To conceal, but also to reveal, I think.”
The events of the last half hour were catching up with her. Rojita turned confused eyes to her grandmother. “I don’t understand.”
“That cloak, it brings you back to me, no? Ernesto, he hides his will in it, you come home. But it also brings Hank to you. And Hank, he saves us from El Lobo.”
Rojita shuddered, remembering the way her shoulders had slammed back from the recoil when she’d pulled the trigger, and the way the blood had blossomed in front of her. “I—”
“Yes, you kill El Lobo. You saved us. But why you did this? Because of Hank. If he no come here, if you no fall in love with him, you…” The old woman trailed off, looking at something she could see in Rojita’s expression. “You love him, no?” Rojita looked down at their joined hands; her grandmother’s wrinkled ones still had so much strength left in them, to be able to comfort her like this. She nodded. “Good.” She heard the satisfaction in Abuela’s praise. “Have you told him this?”
“No.” Her whisper was so faint that she didn’t know if Abuela heard it. She should’ve known better.
“Why not? He is a good man.”
“Because…” She swallowed. “Because he doesn’t like me very much. He thinks I’m… I’m impetuous and foolish.” It hurt to admit, a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. But it had to be said. It was the truth.
Abuela tsked slightly, and then lifted Rojita’s chin so that they were staring at one another. She’d always been tiny, but her grandmother had shrunk over the years, until they were almost of a size. And now, as she stared into Abuela’s dark eyes, all she saw was love.
“This is the truth.” Hearing her own thoughts, repeated aloud, was jarring. But her grandmother continued. “You are bold and reckless and you act before you think.” Rojita wanted to close her ears to Abuela’s words, to not hear them. “But…” The old woman lifted her chin higher, stroking a withered hand across her cheek. “But you are also brave and kind and sweet. And you throw all of yourself into your work and your love, just like you throw yourself into danger. You are passionate. You used to give me fits, mi hija. But I loved you through it all, and so will your Hank.”
No. She couldn’t believe her grandmother’s words. Abuela loved her because she was the closest person Rojita had to a mother; there was nothing to say that Hank would… Nothing except the look in his eyes when he’d yelled at her for walking barefoot in the house. Nothing except the terror she’d seen when he’d gripped her shoulders just a few moments ago. Was Abuela right, after all?
The old woman smiled, her six teeth showing. “Go. I will go with Micah to hold him while Doctor Carpenter stitches him. You will go after Hank, to tell him the truth. To find out the truth.”
Impulsively, she hugged her grandmother. They stood beside a dead man—one that she’d killed—and her brother was still bleeding, but at that moment, all that mattered was finding out why Hank had been so angry with her. Was it because she’d been reckless… or because he’d been worried about her? Did he care for her?
Her grandmother whispered a blessing into her hair, and then pushed her towards the telegraph office. Rojita straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and marched down Everland’s main street. Right before she’d have to decide if it was worth going in after him, Hank stepped out of the building. He paused, one hand on the railing and one booted foot in the air, when he saw her coming towards him. Was it her imagination, or did he look nervous at her approach?
“Are you feeling better?” She stopped, crossed her arms, and tried desperately to pretend that she was angry, and not terrified of what his response might be.
Slowly, he stepped down the stairs, until he was standing in front of her. He propped his rifle up on the porch railing, and pulled off his hat, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Am I feeling better?”
“Yep. You couldn’t wait to get away from me, to come see about your bounty, so now that it’s done, I’m wondering if you’re feeling better.”
He glanced down at his hat. “Ain’t my bounty. You’re the one who shot ‘im.”
“That’s right.” His sharp gaze met hers again, and she had to swallow and remind herself that she was the one who was piqued. “That’s right. I’m the one who shot him. I killed a man, Hank.” She hated the way her voice caught. “And just when I could’ve used some loving words, you—” she uncrossed her arms and gestured helplessly to the building behind him, “You run off and collect your reward.”
“First of all, honey…” He slapped his hat against his hip in what seemed like anger, and took a step towards her. Rojita backed up a step. “I telegraphed Haskell about your reward and another matter. Second of all, if I’d stuck around at that moment, it wouldn’t be loving words you’d’ve heard from me.”
“Because you think I’m foolish. And brash.” She lifted her chin.
“And you don’t think before you do anything.” His words stung, even if they were only confirming what she’d guessed. “It’s going to be damned difficult to keep you safe, if you keep throwing yourself into stupid situations.”
“I don’t regret it, Hank. I’d do it again.”
“Why?” He exploded, throwing his hands up. “Why in the hell would you do something so foolish, Red? You promised! You promised to stay on that porch. You promised to stay out of trouble.”
“If I had kept my promise, you’d be dead.”
He was taking deep, steady breaths, like he was trying to calm himself down. “You’d be safe, though.” Did he know what it did to her, to think of him being the one lying in the dirt, bleeding? “You got any idea how terrified I was, seeing you standing behind him?”
She knew that her mouth had made a little “oh” of surprise, to hear him repeat her thoughts aloud, but backed up another step when he reached for her. She had to make sure. “You were scared�
�� for me?”
“Terrified, honey. He could’ve… What if he’d turned around and seen you?”
“What if he’d shot you? He would’ve had me then, too.” From his suddenly sheepish expression, she knew that he’d considered that point too. The realization emboldened her, and she put her hands on her hips and took one step back towards him. “I know I don’t always think things through, Hank.” She shrugged, and noticed the way his eye flicked across her chest at the movement. “It’s just who I am. Abuela called me ‘passionate’. I can’t change that about myself.”
She watched him close his eyes on a shudder, and swallowed herself. She had to ask. If she didn’t, she might never know. Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “Do you want me to change?”
“No.” His answer was equally rough, and he cleared his throat. “No.” When he opened his eyes, his fierce stare pinned her in place, even when he took those last two steps towards her. “I don’t want you to change, Red. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”
She couldn’t make herself reach out and touch him, like she wanted; what if she still misunderstood? “You…” she swallowed. “You didn’t seem that way over the last three days. You’ve been avoiding me.”
The way his lips turned up this time seemed almost rueful. He ran his free hand through his short hair. “Yeah, well…” He was staring pretty hard into the distance, like he didn’t want to look at her. “I had to, after what you said.”
“What I said, when?” Did he mean when he’d come to the orphanage that morning after their lunch?
“When I realized that you weren’t rich—”
“Abuelo’s money—“
“No, I mean…” He swallowed, and looked back at her. “You promised me money to get you home, Red, and I wasn’t gonna take it. I wasn’t even planning on taking you home myself; was just gonna stick you on the train for Everland. But even after I realized I had to get you home safe, I still wasn’t doing it for the money.”
Rojita held her breath, not sure what he was trying to tell her, but sure that it was important. “And then, that day before I met your family, when I saw your home…” He looked away again.
“You knew I’d lied.” The words sat heavy on her tongue, in her throat. “You knew I couldn’t pay you.”
“Didn’t matter.” He ran his hand through his hair again, and sighed in exasperation. “But what you said… about paying your debt…”
She remembered. She remembered what he’d said, too, after that kiss. It’d been just another example of her rushing headlong into something, not stopping to think about the consequences.
He took a deep breath, and she watched his shirt stretch across his chest. “You offered yourself to me, Red. As payment. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you—avoiding being alone with you.”
“Why? I meant what I said.”
“Me too. I… I don’t want your obligation, Red. I want you.” Her breath caught. “I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you, and then you go and throw out that kinda offer? Hell yes, I wanted to take you up on it, but I didn’t want you to let me because you figured you owed me.” She’d been right; he did want her, and the realization made her want to crow with joy. “I wanted… I wanted you to want it too.”
She tilted her head to one side, her hands still on her hips. She had the power here, and after all of the teasing she’d endured from him, figured he deserved some in return. “I can pay you the hundred dollars now. I’ll ask Abuela if she’d mind.”
It hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear; hadn’t been what he’d wanted to hear, judging from the way his hopeful expression crumbled with a curse and he jammed his hat back on his head. He turned towards the porch—probably to pick up his rifle—but she stopped him when she stepped closer and gently touched his forearm. “I figure if I pay you the money, you don’t have to worry about me being ‘obligated’ to you.”
She peered up into his café con leche eyes, watched them slowly blink. She’d have to remember to confuse him more often; it was kind of fun. “So now, whatever offer I make…”
He gripped her upper arms with a fierceness that surprised a gasp out of her, but didn’t diminish her smile. “Think about that offer before you make it, Red. No going back on it.” The intensity in his eyes told her that her answer meant the world to him.
“Never.” Her smile grew, and she snaked her arms around his waist, pulling his hard body against her. “I’m offering myself to you now, Hank. Forever.”
And he smiled. The real smile she’d been struck by in Haskell. The smile that he rarely let people see. The smile that told her everything would be okay. “I guess it’s a good thing I telegraphed Knighton in Haskell to tell him I was taking that Sheriff job.”
He was staying in Everland? He’d made that decision before she even offered herself to him? “You mean it, Hank? You’re willing to stay?”
“For an offer like that, I figure I’m willing to put up with Wyoming winters.”
She squeezed him, and he dropped his lips to hers. The kiss was full of promise, and Rojita couldn’t have been more thrilled. He tasted of wood smoke and protection and a future.
Yes, she loved this man, and knew from the way that he held her that it was mutual. Abuela had been right all those years ago; Rojita had found her One. Hank’s hands snaked around the back of her head, digging his fingers into her curls there and massaging her neck, just like he’d done in front of the campfire the night she’d met him. It felt heavenly, and she sighed against his lips.
He kissed her once more, and then rested his forehead against hers, still cradling her gently. “Well, honey. Looks like I’m going to have to get used to you leaping before you look, and being rash and bold and brave and foolish at times. I mean, since I’m going to be looking after you for the rest of our lives.”
“Why, Mr. Cutter!” She smiled and stared into the creamy brown eyes that she loved so much. “Is that a proposal?”
“Yeah, Red,” he drawled, “I guess it is.”
“In that case, I accept.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next two Everland Ever After tales!
