Lori Connelly (4 page)

The need for sleep at last overcame her shortly after dark and Evie nodded off in her chair. A glancing blow to her upper arm woke her some time later. She opened her eyes. In the low, flickering light from the dying lamp Ben flailed, not wildly but with soft jerks as if in his dreams, he fought.

“Ben,” She leaned over, captured an arm and held it to the mattress. Her tone low, pitched to comfort, “Ben, wake up.”

Her husband quieted but didn’t respond. Still weary Evie started to relax then what she felt sank in. Heat radiated from his skin. Panicked she jumped up, grabbed the pail and dashed down to the creek without pausing to take the lamp. She stubbed her toes, snagged her dress on a thorny brush and almost fell into the running water but the terror that so often paralyzed her in the dark simply didn’t register. She filled her bucket and hurried back.

Through the night, Evie soaked rags in the cold water then applied them to his heated forehead. His skin never stayed cool long before it burned again. Every so often Ben would mutter gibberish then thrash about until she soothed him.

Her back ached fierce by morning light. Evie straightened away from the bed with her hands pressed hard against the base of her spine. She yawned so wide and long her jaw hurt. Noise penetrated her fog of exhaustion. She went to the window and peeked through the curtains. The little black buggy was a most welcome sight. She stumbled over to the door, eager to let the doctor inside.

After a quick exchange of information, Evie let Dr. Black take over Ben’s care. On the verge of collapse, she pulled her rocker across the room out of the way. She sat down, leaned her head against the high back, closed her eyes and slept.

The next few days passed in a blur. Evie rested whenever Dr. Black was there. Naps at odds hours became routine. At the end of the week, a touch on her shoulder woke her from one. She blinked up at the tall man for a moment until her wits gathered.

“Sheriff Green,” Evie sat up straight, pushed her hair out of her face. “Do you have news?”

“Well Doc just said he believes the fever broke.”

She sagged back against the chair, “Thank God.”

“I came out to speak to Ben. Clearly he’s in no condition for that now but … ”

An uneasy feeling knotted her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Perhaps we should talk privately?”

“All right,” Evie glanced over at the man who sat next to the bed and looked almost as tired as she felt. “I need to step outside with the sheriff for a moment.”

Dr. Black acknowledged her words with a nod. She stood and led the sheriff outside. Her gaze swept the area as she emerged from the cabin. Near the barn, by some scrawny oaks, a patch of red caught her interest. She watched the fox creep out of the shadows then disappear into tall grass until Sheriff Green moved in front of her.

“Ma’am you’re aware your husband has …  irritated folks?”

Evie could barely contain an unladylike snort. She arched an eyebrow. Her tone dry as late fall leaves, “yes.”

“In the time you’ve lived here he’s made questionable deals, caused trouble in town drinking and brawling and there’s more than one accusation of cheating.”

“Your point?” Her voice taut, lowered to just above a whisper. That his words were true made them no less difficult to hear. “Are you trying to say Ben deserved what happened?”

“No ma’am, I’m warning you some might see it that way.”

“Who? The person who hurt him? Do you know who did it?”

“I’m holding the men Talbert fired. They were overheard celebrating that your husband was hurt and they had his horse.”

“So you arrested them?”

“I did. They started a fight, tore up the saloon. Those are the charges I’m holding them on.”

Evie shook her head, confused. “Not for attacking Ben?”

“I’ve no proof of that.”

“But you just said-”

“It’s not a crime to be happy a man got beat up.”

“But,” with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tried again to protest. “They-”

“All swear they had nothing to do with it.”

“They had his horse,” She enunciated each word with force.

“They claim they found it wondering loose, knew the mare belonged to you and were going to return it.”

Heat burned across her cheeks. “So you’ll do nothing.”

“Not much I can do ma’am. I rode out here hoping Ben could tell me something, some detail that might help but-”

“Dr. Black told you Ben might not remember.” Her hands twisted together. A band tightened around her chest.

“I hope for your sake he does.”

Wearing a calm mask, she met his gaze, “Why?”

“I can’t hold those boys long and I’ve heard ugly rumors.”

She stiffened, “Rumors?”

“Those boys are locals, they grew up here.”

“And we’ve been a here a few years.”

The sheriff nodded, “Word about the Talbert boy has gotten around. There’s not a whole lot of sympathy for your husband’s injuries. In fact there’s some anger directed at him still.”

“I see,” Her stomach rolled.

“Ma’am I’ll do my best but I’m only one man.” His serious tone, the concern in his gaze, slammed his message home. The neighbors likely wouldn’t help if someone decided to hurt Ben again and the sheriff couldn’t protect him.

“I understand,” Her hands clasped tight together, “Anything else? I should get back to my husband.”

Sheriff Green studied her for a tense moment. “I brought your horse back. She’s in the barn.”

“Thank you.”

“I checked the saddlebags. They were empty. Did Ben have anything of value?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Dr. Black strolled from the cabin. “I need to get going.”

“Of course,” Evie managed a stiff smile, “thank you.”

Without waiting to see either man off, she stepped into the open doorway. Evie paused there. Her fingers gripped the wood frame hard. The sound of hooves and wheels faded as she stood, stared at Ben who slept yet again. Her head bowed. Worn out, she felt alone, abandoned.

A surge of fury suddenly crashed over logic. Her chin lifted and she glared at her husband. Evie stomped across the room, snatched up a pot, set it down hard on the table. A quick glance showed Ben undisturbed.
I’m tired of understanding.

Lips tight, Evie shook her head.
Being patient.
She put chicken broth and dried vegetables in the pot then hung it over the fire on a hook Ben had fashioned.
Feeling alone in the same room.
Her actions jerky, she pulled a small crock of butter off a shelf then opened the towel wrapped around the half loaf of bread.

Her hands shook as she made sandwiches. Movements slowed. Tears fell.

Evie looked over at Ben. Hair fell untidy across his forehead, his face a patchwork of charcoal smudges, a few more colorful bruises and pallid skin.
I almost lost you.

Drained she made no effort to wipe her cheeks. Slowly she moved her chair back next to the bed. She grabbed a sandwich, poured a mug of coffee and sat down. Without enthusiasm, she washed her food down with bitter liquid. When she finished, Evie reached out and touched his chest.

Her fingers lingered, moved in a soft caress. A dark brown mat of hair spread out over his upper body until it disappeared beneath his bound ribs. Evie laid her palm flat on his lower belly a moment then pulled back. Sadness whispered. She’d all but forgotten how it felt to touch him. She stared at the dregs of her coffee, and rocked herself for comfort.

Ben cleared his throat. The young woman didn’t respond, just kept rocking. He cleared his throat again, louder. She stilled a second then faced him, her expression a polite mask.

“Good afternoon.”

Though pain tugged at him, Ben studied her, curious about the stranger who claimed to be his wife. Hair black as night tumbled from a haphazard braid to fall about a pretty face with even features dominated by eyes an intriguing sky blue. With sun kissed golden skin and a strong yet gently curved body, she was exactly his type of woman.

“Is it? I feel weak as a kitten.”

“You’ve had a rough few days,” Her voice had a low husky quality. “Are you hurting?”

His head pounded, his whole body ached and any deep breath brought pure misery, “Oh yeah.”

“I can get you some-”

“Not now thank you …  Evie …  is that right?”

A flash of emotion disturbed her expression, “yes.”

“And …  did you say you’re my wife?”

“I did,” Her voice flat, almost lifeless disturbed him.

A spasm of pain seized him, commanded attention. Sweat bathed his face. It took little time before it became tolerable but each second that ticked by worsened his mood. Everything felt out of his control.

Patience fled. Ben challenged the woman, scepticism clear in his testy tone, “How is that possible?”

“Standing before a minister and affirming vows before God and witnesses has that effect,” Evie snapped her voice frost.

Her words hung in the air. Anger flashed in her eyes then they went flat. Ben didn’t know how to respond. Her certainty troubled him but what the doctor had suggested just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. Irritated, uncomfortable he shifted.

“What are you doing?”

“I want up.”

Her lips pursed in disapproval but Evie helped him without protest. Tremors shot through his body, stole his breath as he moved into a seated position. Lastly, she had Ben lean forward and stuffed a folded blanket behind him for support. He sagged back against the padding.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Stilted words reflected the awkwardness between them. Evie paused, studied him a moment. “Hungry?”

“A little.”

In minutes, she brought him some thin soup and water. He devoured the food then handed her back the empty bowl. Though now every breath spread splintering pain, he took a few sips from his cup, one hand pressed against his aching ribs. What little energy he had left started to fade. Even so, he was determined to address her claim.

“Do you have proof?”

“Yes,” Evie glared at Ben, her tone decidedly cool as she got out of the chair. She knelt down, reached underneath the bed and pulled out a small wooden box. From inside she took a photograph, handed it to him, “Your wedding present to me.”

Ben stared at the black and white picture, worn from many handlings. The upper right corner had a long, narrow white line and along the bottom there were spots from water but the image was clear. “We made a handsome couple.”

“Satisfied?”

“Confused,” A note of impatience spiced his words as he continued to study the smiling people captured on paper. No memory of that day, place or her stirred, “We’re married.”

“Yes.”

“You’re my wife.”

Her hand came up. Fingers squeezed the bridge of her nose as she sucked in a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Sorry I don’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay.”

“I doubt that,” his tone full of wry amusement.

Her fleeting smile as she stood acknowledged that truth.

Unsure how he felt or what to do, Ben shifted his gaze from her to look around the room. “This cabin isn’t familiar to me.”

“Ben,” Evie paused. Tension radiated from her. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

His thoughts sluggish, it took Ben a few minutes before he answered. “Heading to town with Henry. Is that where we met, in Joplin?”

“No,” Her heart sank. Her brother met Ben when they worked in a Missouri mine, a year before their wedding. “That happened when Henry brought you home.”

He seized on that bit of information. “We’d talked about that.” A wrinkle formed between his brows. “We were sick of working underground, wanted to quit, head west. Then …  he got news about his family in …  Indiana and, I can’t remember why but we were going to go there first.” He tilted his head to one side. “You know Henry?”

“He’s my brother.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You’re Cookie?”

“That’s what he called me,” Her lips curved, a ghost smile.

“Called? Did something happen to Henry?”

Evie shrugged a casual motion to cloak emotion. “I don’t know, haven’t seen him in years.”

“Went looking for gold?”

“Yeah, he left the day of our wedding.”

“That upset you?”

“I wasn’t thrilled,” She delivered the understatement in a dry tone. With their grandfather in poor health, she’d wanted Henry to stay at least for a while.

“So instead of going with him as I’d planned, I stayed in Indiana with you?”

Until Grandpa died.
Evie winced, her head started to throb and she decided keep it short. “For a time then we moved west.”

“We’re in California?”

Evie shook her head. “Salmon, Idaho.”

“That’s not bad. You know, I always wanted to live out west and have adventures like those in dime novels.”

“I know.”

His expression tightened, he appeared troubled by the notion that she knew him well, “I need to lie down.”

“All right.”

Concerned by the weakness in his voice, Evie bent over him, helped him change position. She had Ben comfortably settled in a matter of minutes. As she moved away, he captured her wrist in a strong grip that caught her off guard. She stared at him, shocked. Her heart beat at a furious pace.

“How long?”

“Since you were hurt?”

“Have we been married.”

“Oh,” Her tone soft, a trace puzzled, “five years.”

“Kids?”

She suddenly forgot to breathe but then in a firm but gentle move, Evie pulled free. She plucked the picture from where it had fallen on his blanket, looked at their image for a few seconds then back up at him, “No.”

Evie knelt back down by the open box on the floor. With care, she covered the photograph in linen and replaced it. A folded section of yellowed newspaper rested to one side. She shifted so that her body blocked what little view Ben had and reached for it.

“Evie?”

“You should get some sleep,” Her tone flat, dismissive as she unwrapped the paper, ran fingers over soft yarn.

Her chest ached and tears stung her eyes. Head bent, she blinked them back. Evie studied what she held a long moment then drew in an uneven breath. She refolded the paper, tucked it away. Her hands shook as she closed the box then pushed it back in its place.

“Evie?”

Again, his soft tone made her name a question, one that she ignored. Evie got to her feet and walked over to the fireplace, her mind on the past. She poured some coffee then spooned honey into the steaming liquid. Fatigue crept over her, numbed her thoughts. Wordless she returned to her chair, sat in silence, sipped the hot sweetness until it at last registered that Ben had spoken.

“Yes?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Evie took a long drink, “Many things.”

“Such as?”

“It seems,” Weary, she sighed, long, loud, “that I have years to explain.”

“Evie I-”

“It’s been a long day. I’d rather talk tomorrow.” Her gaze focused on her lap, shoulders stiff, Evie braced for an argument that never came. Instead, after an extended silent pause, she heard the deeps breaths of sleep

Dusk had called forth shadows by the time a quick glance confirmed her husband indeed slept. Relief seeped through her as she stood up. Evie placed her mug on the dresser and tucked another faded patchwork quilt over him. She banked the fire and then scooted the table in front of the door for a measure of security. With one gentle breath, she blew out the lamp’s flame then sat back in the rocker, shivered under a thin blanket.

Time crawled by. Worry gnawed at her thoughts and kept her awake. One hand toyed with the folds of her skirt. After her vision adjusted to the darkness, Evie studied the stranger who was her husband.

Memories of their courtship danced through her mind. Ben had pursued her with a single-minded intensity. A romantic, he’d used every opportunity to kiss her hands, brought her a flower he’d picked daily and wrote her poetry, bad poetry. A smile teased at her lips. The attention had intoxicated her, touched her heart. Her eyes closed
.
She’d fallen hard and fast.

In the quiet night disturbed only by his strained breathing, the sad state of her life crowded out the pleasant feelings from those memories. The dreams she had then had since been crushed. Evie wept quietly until exhaustion claimed her and she yielded to the oblivion of sleep.

Morning arrived fast. To Evie it felt as though she’d just closed her eyes when sunlight streamed through the open curtains and warmed her face. Not fully awake, the sensation of being watched awakened annoyance. She grimaced, turned her head to find the source. Her gaze met Ben’s steady regard. The weight of his consideration made her squirm, self-conscious.

Flustered, she tossed her quilt off onto the bed and got up. Her husband beckoned her to come closer before Evie could put distance between them. Concerned, she leaned down. His fingertips lightly brushed tangled strands of hair off her cheek.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

One simple touch triggered a cascade of emotion. His gaze held hers captive. Liquid fire raced heat through her veins and her breath became swift, shallow, audible. Seconds ticked by in sweet anticipation.

“You’re one pretty lady.”

The spell broke as sudden as it spun. Evie straightened and turned away in one motion. She breathed in deep then let it out slow. The connection between them felt as strong as ever but then chemistry had never been the problem. Her back to him, a single tear ran down her cheek unheeded.

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice husky, threaded with a suggestion of desire.

Lips stiff, Evie managed to keep her tone even while she walked across the room, “No.”

“Why’d you move away?”

The gently voiced question scraped on raw nerves and Evie didn’t answer for a few minutes. She worked to put the room to rights, addressed what she’d neglected the night before.

“What’s wrong?”

Her teeth bit on her inner cheek. She held back hot words Ben wouldn’t understand, couldn’t respond to in any satisfactory way since he didn’t remember. Evie sat down and laced on boots, kept her gaze fixed on her fingers, “Nothing.”

“Hey, please, talk to me.”

The bed ropes creaked. At the sound of a soft grunt of pain, Evie glanced up. Ben had rolled onto his side. Propped up on one arm, he focused on her. The expression on his battered face made it clear her husband wanted an answer.

She finished her task then met his gaze. Her hands curled into fists, fingernails bit into skin as she contemplated a calm response when pent up resentment clamored for release.

“You …  startled me.”

“How so?”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve touched me.”

“Why?”

“We,” Evie shook her head. The thought of explaining their relationship overwhelmed. She simplified, “haven’t been getting along.”

“Why?”

His repeated one word question relayed demand. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m not going anywhere, take your time.”

“I’d rather not,” Her voice, low, hollow.

The rigid set of his shoulders and a muscle that twitched along his jaw reflected exasperation. “I need to understand what’s going on between us.”

“I know,” Evie blew out a breath, flattened her hands to rub sweaty palms on her skirt then stood. “I’ll explain.” Her tone wobbled, “just not now.”

Control slipping, Evie strode across the room. She moved the table, hurried outside and shut the door behind her. An almost desperate need to be alone drove her.

Running away again?

Her steps faltered. His voice so clear Evie glanced back at the cabin. Solid wood remained between her and Ben. While he’d made that accusation often before, today it was merely an echo in her mind. Shame bled through her. She bit her lip then pressed on.

Every breath became a tiny cloud of frost. Dew dampened the hem of her skirt as she walked to the barn. Inside, hidden from her husband’s sight, waves of emotion washed over her as she leaned against a rough wall. Uncertain if she felt sad, angry, relieved or resentful, Evie sensed the tangled mess within threatened to tear her apart.

Her breath came in hiccups. Both hands came up, covered her face, but Evie didn’t cry, just shuddered. Minutes went by before she regained control. She pulled in a deep breath, held it a moment then released it. Her spine straightened, hands lowered, she at last tackled chores.

To care for a few chickens and a horse didn’t take long but it was more than enough time to worry over the hard conversation Ben would likely insist on having. Feet all but dragging, Evie started toward the cabin a short time later, a small basket of eggs on her arm.

A pair of butterflies, gold and brown, danced on the breeze in front of her. Beauty held her gaze a few minutes then flew away when she reach the cabin. The sound of hoof beats gave her an excuse not to open the door. Evie put the basket down then turned to watch a short, large man ride up on a bay horse.

Her eyes narrowed. If this stranger meant harm, Ben could do little but bleed. Sparrows called from along the creek as she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and moved directly into the man’s path.

He pulled up in front of her, “Mrs. Rolfe.”

“Yes.”

“I’m William Sims.”

“Mr. Sims.”

“Do you know who I am?”

An arrogant man who doesn’t dismount so he can try to intimidate me.
Short on sleep and temper, Evie wasn’t in the mood for games. “You’ve given me your name.”

“I’m the bank manager.”

“Oh,” she tried to keep irritation out of her voice. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Didn’t your husband mention me?”

“I’m afraid not.”

His mouth tightened. Mr. Sims studied her a moment then with a loud put upon wheeze, dismounted, “I bought out the loan on this place.”

"I see,” Evie felt the blood drain from her face. Her mind blanked for a second then she blurted out, “Did you have proof?"

“Proof? Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m asking to see legal paperwork, Mr. Sims.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t bring any.”

“Well when you do we can discuss-”

“I didn’t ride all the way out here to chat,” He stepped forward, got in her face, one hand raised, forefinger pointed at her. “I want you and your husband off my property today.”

Her heart raced, she abandoned her argument in panic. “But Ben’s hurt. We need-”

“Not my problem.”

“A few weeks …  a wee-”

“No,” Dark brown eyes reflected no emotion, empty, cold.

“Please.”

Silence ruled for a moment while they stood, stared at each other then his gaze wandered down the length of her body and time seemed to slow. He reached out and fingered a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. Her mouth dry, she trembled, barely breathed.

“Perhaps we could work out an arrangement.”

Her knees threatened to buckle, “We could pay some rent.”

“That isn’t what I have in mind.”

Fear crawled down her spine.

She inched back.

He followed her.

The urge to turn and run was strong but Evie was too scared to take her eyes off him.

“That’s all I have to offer.”

His hand brushed her arm, “You’ve a great deal to offer.”

The calm tone made such a bizarre contrast to the menace she read in his gaze, Evie froze, stared. He smiled. Her eyes widened. Before she could move he lunged, seized her. Fingers dug into her shoulders. She jerked free with a panicked cry.

Frantic, Evie stumbled backwards until she hit the cabin wall. He pursued, trapped her against it, with a hand pressed against the logs on either side of her head. Terror slid like ice in her veins.

Click. Click.

The distinctive sound of a shell being jacked in froze the banker. Evie looked in the direction of the sound. Ben stood propped against the doorframe, naked as the day he was born, the rifle in a firm grip aimed at William Sims.