Lori Connelly (8 page)

Sore and exhausted Ben raised a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the tense muscles. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

His gentle voice deflated her overblown anger and she looked away. Her arms fell to hang at her sides. She drew in a long breath, let it out slow. “No I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Something wrong?”

Exhaustion tugged at her. “Lately,” She wrapped her arms around her mid section. “Just about everything.”

An awkward moment passed as they stood, gazes locked. After a while, Ben cleared his throat. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Don’t leave me alone.”

“Okay,” He drew out that one word, his tone clearly puzzled.

Evie sighed. It was easy to forget that with his memory loss Ben didn’t know why she was so jumpy. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Oh, would you like me to light the lantern?”

“That’d be great. Thank you.” Evie paused, lifted one hand up to rub over her face. “Do we have any water left?”

“Some. I’ll dig out the canteen too and be right back.”

“No, wait, it’s all right I’m not that thirsty.”

“I’m only going into the back of the wagon.” Evie stared at him. Tension radiated off her. “Water or no, we need the lantern. It’ll be full dark soon.” Eyes wide, she shook her head. “Come with me then.”

Before she could argue, he moved off. Nervous Evie stayed on his heels, so close that a moment later when Ben stopped, she bumped against him hard. Their bodies brushed as he turned.

“S- sorry.”

Ben brushed off her mumbled apology as he leaned in closer and desire slowly started to overcome the fear she felt in the pit of her stomach. Blood raced through her veins. His hands came up and grasped her shoulders. Mouth dry she licked her lips. He bent down and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Disappointment flowed through her as he turned away. He untied a few knots, loosened a section of canvas and lowered the tailgate. “I have to climb in. I’ll be right back. Remember there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Yes Ben.”

“You’re safe here.”

“Yes Ben.”

“I’m wasting my breath aren’t I?”

A wry grin made a brief appearance, “Yes Ben.”

With a shake of his head, he heaved himself up. Evie drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly. In the few minutes he was out of sight, the world seemed to darken rapidly. She could hear him rustling around in the bed, knew he was near and that helped, but barely. Only when he stood next to her once more did she feel a little better.

Evie accepted the canteen with a whisper of thanks. She took some eager sips as Ben knelt down. Her anxiety lowered another notch when he lit the lantern which cast a soft bubble of light out around them. She offered him the last of their water.

“Go ahead and finish it. I’ll get a drink from the river when I take Sugar down.”

“Is it still close?”

“Through the trees over there,” Ben gestured to his right while she quenched her thirst. “Can’t you hear it?”

“No.”

“Well it’s there, trust me.”

“Do I have a choice?” Her words, delivered in a light tone nevertheless held a note of challenge.

“No,” Ben smiled as he offered her the lantern. “Could you hold this while I unhitch her?”

“Of course,” She took the light and watched while he made short work of the chore. “What can I do to help?”

“You could guide us through the trees to the river.”

Go first? S
he stared past Ben to the shadows beyond him.

“Evie?” She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. “Evie?” Fear froze her. She heard him muffle a sigh. “Listen, don’t worry about it. Stay here or follow me.”

The sound of him leading Sugar away snapped her out of her panic. Her husband should still be in bed recovering from his injuries, the least she could do was help. She stepped in front of Ben, forced him to stop. “I can do it.”

Immediately, Evie turned around then set out at a brisk pace. Branches cracked against her outstretched hand as she pushed through trees. Moss wet her palm. Spider web strands broke across her face. Mud and wet leaves clumped to her boots, weighted her steps.
Please God let this be over soon.

A dark winged shape flew past her. Her fingers tightened on the lantern handle and Evie hastened forward. Seconds later, she staggered out onto the riverbank then stopped dead. Ben led the mare past her to the water.
One, two, three.
She counted each breath in and out until her nerves calmed.

As her heart rate slowed to normal, Evie felt a need she couldn’t ignore. She left the light on the ground and nervously eased back a few steps. A twig snapped. She stopped. Just beyond the light’s glow, she did what she had to do and scurried to her husband.

“You okay?”

Beside Ben, Evie knelt down by the river, “I’m fine.”

“Would you mind filling these?”

“Not at all,” Evie took the canteens from him, watched as he swayed then leaned against Sugar for support.

“Maybe you should sit down, rest for a moment?”

“I’ll wait until we both can.”

“Right now I never want to sit again.”

His chuckle floated through the night air. “The wagon seat is a little hard.”

“Really,” Evie shot a glance over her shoulder as held a container in the river, her voice dripped sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well pay closer attention tomorrow.”

Evie stood, turned to face him as she capped off the last canteen. Ben’s face was a polite mask but those devilish green eyes danced with amusement. “It’ll be my main concern.”

Her dry tone drew a burst of laughter from him. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Evie walked by Ben, retrieved the lantern and they headed to the wagon. This time, she made the trip through the trees without undue distress, her mind preoccupied elsewhere.

While Ben secured the mare, she put the light and canteens down then pulled a box out of the wagon. Cold crept into her bones and she shivered. Together they cleared a small area close by and ringed it with stones. He mounded some moss and twigs within the rocks and lit them.

Fire.
She hovered as he blew on the tiny flame. A breathy moan of anticipation escaped her numb lips. “I’ll gather some wood.”

“Okay,” He scooped up a handful of the bits of wood, bark, and pinecones that littered the ground, added fuel to the blaze.

Evie collected an armful of fallen branches, dropped them in a pile next to Ben. She stretched eager hands out to the flickering flames. Heat licked her chilled skin. The pleasant sensation consumed her.

“Would you like me to cook?”

“I beg your pardon.” She turned to warm her backside.

Ben pulled a can out of the box. He set it down beside him then asked again in a patient tone. “Do you want me to make us dinner?”

“Very funny,” She tossed more wood on the fire. “You can’t cook.”

“Of course I can.”

Evie went still. “Either you’re lying now or you lied to me before because you’ve never once cooked a single meal our entire married life.”

Why didn’t you offer to cook before?”

A wry grin spread across his face. “I was laid up.”

“I meant before that.”

“I don’t remember,” Ben made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

Evie stepped away, moved to the wagon. “This isn’t funny.”

“Nor is it a tragedy.”

“Because it isn’t important to you?” She reached over the open tailgate into the bed, felt around blindly until she found the old laundry basket then tugged it out.

“It seems minor.”

With care, she dug through layers of items to find a pan, plates and forks then shoved the basket back. “Not to me.”

“This bothers you that bad?”

“Yes,” the one word delivered soft yet emphatic.

His voice matched hers in tone, quiet, serious. “Why?”

“That’s,” Hands full, she returned to his side, “what I want to know.”

An owl called out, a lonely sound. Ben sighed. “Why would I lie about something so trivial? For what purpose?”

“Because it always starts with little things,” Her tone impatient, tinged with bitterness. Evie tossed yet more wood on the fire then knelt down next to him. The damp sticks hissed, steamed among the flames.

“What do you mean?”

“It was just one beer,” Evie put the stuff she brought on the ground in front of the box and between them. “I just need your money this once,” she reached into the box, drew out a can and a cloth wrapped bundle. “Only a friendly game of cards with friends,” she looked up, stared him in the eye. “I could go on.”

“No, I get it.” Ben took the food from her as he paused a moment. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember doing any of that.”

“But I do,” Her whisper pained.

He inhaled audibly. “Look could it be you simply assumed I couldn’t and the truth never came up.”

“In five years?”

“That seems odd but I can’t see what I’d gain by lying about it.” Ben took the wrap off the bundle, drew his knife and sliced several thick strips of bacon into the pan.

Sap crackled in the fire. She took some time, considered his words. “True.”

“Evie,” Ben hesitated, he rewrapped the uncut meat then looked up, expression solemn. “I can’t change what I’ve done but I can promise you this. From now on, I will never lie to you again.”

“I …  ” His sincerity punctured her defensiveness and hit the tender part of her heart, left her torn. Uncertain what to say she pulled out a small loaf of bread and set it on a plate.

Ben used his knife to open the can. “Believe me?”

“I want to.”

“I guess that’s a start.” His voice wavered. He swayed on his heels, sat back heavy. His breath came out in a rush.

Evie scrambled after him. “Ben?”

“I’m sorry,” His eyes closed. “After all that fuss I don’t believe I’ll be able to cook you dinner.”

“That’s okay. I’ll-”

“I just need a couple minutes. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to lie down.”

“It’s a little damp and rocky.”

“Cute. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“Not going anywhere,” His words slurred which worried her.

Evie quickly piled more fuel on the fire to keep him warm then marched over to the wagon. It took several minutes for her to get the pallet out and drag it over beside Ben.

His eyes opened. “It’s going to get wet.”

“I don’t care,” She dismissed his halfhearted concern as she helped him roll onto it then darted back to the wagon, fetched a quilt, knelt down and tucked it around him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now try to sleep.”

Ben yawned. “I could get-”

“No,” Her fingers sought his, squeezed then let go, covered his hand with the blanket, “Just sleep please, trust me, I can manage.”

“But what if you-”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“Stay close. Shout if you need me.”

“I will,” Evie agreed though she had no intention of doing so.

“I need a little shut eye.”

“Yes you do.”

The fire popped. She picked up the pan and stood. Leaves squished beneath her boots as she walked around the fire until she found a couple rocks in the fire ring to set the cast iron down on. Hands held out to the heat, soft snores brought her gaze to her husband. The lantern cast clear light over Ben.

The lump near his temple was gone. His bruises had faded to green tinged yellow splotches, an ugly reminder of what had been. She didn’t know when to unfasten the bindings, how soon his stitches would need removing or why he was healing so well yet his memories hadn’t returned. Restless she snatched up the lantern and walked away to gather more wood.

Tears burned her eyes as she worked. His latest promise of honesty hadn’t eased her mind. Broken trust haunted their marriage like a troubled ghost. She glanced over her shoulder at his now shadowed form. And although Evie loved him, wanted to believe this time was different, doubts whispered in her ear, and she wondered if she were a fool for even offering her faith one more time, merely even contemplating it.

The tantalizing aroma of sizzling pork filled the air as she dumped her armful of sticks beside the fire. She brushed bits of moss and dirt off her clothing while noting the bacon needed flipped. Evie hurried to the wagon for the spatula. Sadly, the minute it took to find the utensil was a minute too long.

Still bent over the wicker basket, an unpleasant odor hit her. Evie glanced toward the pan. Her eyes widened as she stared in stunned horror. It blazed. She ran over and jerked it away from the heat. Hot iron seared skin. She immediately dropped it. The heavy pan fell with a thud, splattered grease onto damp earth. She beat out the last flickers of flame with the spatula.

“Is everything all right?” Her husband’s deep, sleep laden voice drifted from the other side of the fire.

Tears of frustration and pain leaked down her cheeks. The spatula fell unheeded to the ground. She managed a tight but even tone, “Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

Evie grabbed a canteen and the cool water eased her stinging palm until she’d emptied it. With a sigh, she capped it off then put it back with the others. Her pain had lessened but the ache remained. She knelt down to the puddle she’d made sluicing her hand and smeared thick, cool mud over it.

Self-pity snaked through her as Evie glanced back at the charred meat. She was hungry, and tired and hurt and it wasn’t fair. With her unhurt hand, she rubbed her face dry and tried to think of how to salvage the meal. She did not want to start from scratch.

Her gaze flicked to Ben. He appeared to have gone back to sleep. She felt a measure of relief. Evie didn’t want him to see the mess. She wanted to make it better first. She looked around for inspiration and the can he’d opened caught her eye.

With part of her cloak wrapped around her hand, she lifted the pan onto the rocks but placed it further away from the flames. Evie used the spatula to scrape the nastiest bits into the fire then moved over to grab the can. She stumbled over an unseen root and knocked it over. In disbelief, she stared at the stream of beans in the dirt until the wind blew several strands of hair in her eyes. She brushed them away realizing too late that she’d used her mud-caked palm
.

At least Ben isn’t awake to see this.

To her dismay, the man sat up as if her thought summoned him. “Dinner ready?”

Evie snatched up the can. The weight assured her most of the contents remained. Relieved, she nudged earth over what had spilled then walked over with deliberate calmness to dump beans over the meat.

“The beans need a little more time.”

“Oh, maybe I’ll rest my eyes for a couple minutes then.”

Happy to distract him, “I think that’s a good idea.”

The moment he reclined, she looked down and winced. In her haste, she’d forgotten to drain off the remaining grease. Pools of the unappetizing liquid gathered on the surface. Blowing out an aggravated breath, she scooped out as much as possible.

In the end, it appeared her efforts paid off. As the beans started to bubble, the meal actually looked tasty. She leaned over the pan and sniffed. A hearty smell replaced the stink of scorched bacon.

She wiped her forehead against her arm. Her lips had parted to call Ben when the hairs on the back of her neck stood. Someone was behind her.

A band of pressure squeezed her chest. It’d take precious seconds to get the pistol out now that her cloak layered over her skirt. Her mind screamed for help but her voice remained mute. She could barely breathe.

Her grip tightened on the spatula. Unable to stand the suspense, she slowly turned to face the danger. A squirrel met her eyes, its cheeks bulging.

Fear transformed to rage, “You dirty little varmint.”

Incensed, Evie brandished the cooking utensil like a weapon and charged the small animal. It streaked away, vanished into the night. Anger still pulsed through her as she stomped back.

“Varmint?”

Ben sat up, wide-awake. His presence only increased her agitation. She gestured to the plate, “A bloody squirrel gnawed on our bread.”

“Varmint?” His voice shook with laughter.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes ma’am a
varmint
ate some of our bread.”

“Sourdough is my favorite,” Her hands on her hips, her foot tapped, Evie glared at him.

His lips twitched as though he tried not to smile. “I’ll remember that.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“No ma’am,” His face was now a mask of pure innocence that she didn’t believe for a second.

“What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, let her expression reflect her disbelief.

“I …  that word from your lips just seems … ”

“Funny?”

“Well yeah a little. Where’d you pick it up?”

Adrenalin still pumped through her and Evie was not amused. Her tone flat, “You read me a lot of Wild West adventures.”

“Hey,” All traces of humor gone from his voice, Ben spoke with quiet earnest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The simple apology should’ve soothed her. It really wasn’t a big deal. Yet her wayward emotions wouldn’t settle down and Evie didn’t know how she felt. Troubled, she took out a knife, sawed off the ruined section of bread and then cut two thick slices.

“It’s okay. I’m easily upset these days.”

“I am sorry.” Ben insisted.

Her stomach growled. She dished up their plates, handed him his then settled on the pallet next to him. Distracted, her hunger fierce, Evie didn’t think about what had happened. She took a big bite then almost spit it back out.

Scorched bacon flavored the beans. The taste of ashes coated her tongue and her stomach threatened to revolt. Her cheeks hot, she choked the mouthful down.

“I’m so sorry.”

“About what?”

“I burnt dinner,”

“It’s not bad.”

Her jaw dropped as he continued to eat. “Please stop, it’s horrid.” Heat blazed across her face. “I hoped I fixed it and you wouldn’t be able to notice.”

Ben mopped up the last of his meal with his bread. “Why?”

“I messed up, it’s embarrassing.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, don’t worry about it.” He eyed her plate. “Are you finished?”

His matter of fact acceptance stunned her nearly as much as his desire for more. For a moment, Evie could only stare at the man. The notion that anyone would willingly eat the nasty stuff she’d made dumbfounded her but he appeared sincere. She handed Ben her plate then took a long drink from a canteen, rinsed the vile taste out of her mouth, while he polished off her portion.

Her embarrassment faded as it became clear Ben meant his kind words. She nibbled on bread while he scrapped the last of the food out of the pan. He raised the plate toward her, a silent offering. Evie wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

While he ate, her gaze focused on the flickering flames, their dance hypnotic. Her mind drifted. She yawned. Her eyes shut, just for a second.

“I think it’s time for bed.” Ben loomed over her.

With another yawn, she pushed up to her feet. “I need to clean up first.”

“There’s not much to do.” He handed her the quilt. “If you want to change I’ll rinse our dishes at the river.”

Startled at his offer, her husband had taken the lantern and dinner dishes off into the night before she could form a response. Evie stared after him a long moment. In good times or bad, Ben never worried about whether something was woman’s work or not, he did what needed done.
Why lie about cooking then, it makes no sense.

She pushed the unanswerable question out of her mind and stood. The thought of warm, dry clothes was irresistible, she went to the wagon and got her bag. Although her soft flannel nightgown tempted her, given how close they were to the road, she decided against it. The cool night air covered her skin in goose bumps as she quickly changed.

Another owl called out and she tensed. Alone, even mere steps from the fire, it sent shivers down her spine. She tucked the pistol into the bag then wrapped the quilt over her Sunday dress for warmth. In the hope that they’d dry by morning, she hung her damp cloak and clothing on the wheel of the wagon.

Uneasy Evie needed something to do. She grabbed a small hatchet from the wagon and headed to a pine tree close enough to the fire’s light that she felt somewhat safe. In minutes, she’d chopped off a number of the lower branches. She gathered them into her arms, carried them over to the wagon and spread a layer of boughs on the ground underneath. As she returned to the fire to warm herself, Ben strode back into camp.

Together they repacked their provisions. While he moved their mattress from fireside to under the wagon, she pulled the rest of their bedding out. Evie made them a bed as he loosely tied down the canvas. On her hands and knees, she crawled under and eased in-between the layers of quilts. She bunched her pillow into a semi comfortable form then rolled on her side, watching Ben walk around their campsite.