As soon as she told the doctor what condition she’d found Aaron in, he’d gone in to question the man. Why hadn’t she left then? It had been too early for church, so she’d thought to keep herself sequestered in her room until the time came for her to accompany Ingrid and the doctor to the little chapel at the edge of town.
But now . . . she couldn’t imagine sitting quietly on a wooden bench with Aaron’s accusations ringing in her memory. She’d never be able to focus on the reverend’s words, no matter how badly she needed to hear them.
Unbidden, the image of the mountain settled in her spirit. The mountain. She needed the peace that always came from standing on the edge of the precipice, feeling God’s touch in the breeze brushing her skin. Surrounded by His creation was where she always felt the Creator nearest.
Aaron’s voice rose louder as his curses rang through the clinic. Doc Micah’s voice rose along with it, trying to quiet the man. The doctor probably needed help, but she couldn’t be the one this time. When drunks became angry, there was nothing that could be said to silence them. You could either listen to the raging or get away from it.
This time, she could get away.
Jumping from the bed, she ignored the pain shooting through her ankle. She grabbed her coat and hat, then slipped through her door and down the hall.
Aaron’s words rang even louder in this larger space, ricocheting off the hallway walls.
At the front door, she pulled on her coat and slipped outside. A blast of cold air struck her face, and she sucked in a deep breath. In two strides she crossed the porch, and if it weren’t for her weak ankle, she would have leapt over the steps altogether. She needed out of here.
Needed freedom.
As she hobbled down the road toward the outskirts of town, her mind spun back to all those times she’d stepped out of their cabin, desperate for escape. So often, Will would ride out of the barn just then, reading her mind. He’d have a bridle on the old mare, but never a saddle. Even before Pa sold the saddle to pay for his wretched habit, she and Will had considered the contraption as only a bother. He’d help her climb aboard the mare, then she’d tuck herself in behind him. The mare would dance as Will held tight to the reins.
Then he’d give the ol’ girl her head and a mighty kick with his scrawny legs. Those moments of flying were the best of her childhood.
If only she had a horse right now.
But she didn’t, so she strode forward as fast as her ankle would let her, soaking in the blustery wind pulling tendrils of her hair loose. Just like when she rode with Will.
God, I miss him. She let the tears fall as she walked. Let them blur her vision, and only swiped at her nose when she couldn’t bear the annoyance.
Not until the long, grueling days of her journey west had she finally learned how to grieve for Will. For all her family . . . but especially him. He’d been her lifeline. Her rock through some of the hardest years of her life.
A true blessing from God, although she’d been so angry with the Lord at the time for taking Mum, she’d not been willing to ascribe anything good to Him.
Even then He’d been patient with her.
The tears fell without restraint as she walked, retracing one memory after another with Will. There had been so many good ones. With Robbie, too, especially after he’d grown old enough to be more playmate and less responsibility. A few times, they’d all three climbed aboard the mare. But the poor horse was getting older by then, and she’d not been able to manage much of a run.
And Laura had been so worried about Robbie slipping off or getting knocked by one of the branches overgrowing the trail that she’d enjoyed those outings more when it was only her and Will. Being responsible for Robbie had been her life—a hardship most times, but one she wouldn’t have traded.
Had Will felt that same way about her? He’d only been two years older than her, so she’d thought of him more as a friend than a brother. Her best friend.
But maybe he’d considered her a responsibility. Someone he had to work hard to protect and cheer up when she was frustrated with Robbie or sad about Mum. A sister he had to protect against Pa’s darker moments. They’d both learned early that they couldn’t match their father’s physical strength.
Escape was the far better option.
She reached a rocky incline and glanced around. The cave lay just ahead, although she’d not planned this mountain as her destination. Just like the last time she’d needed to get away from the clinic, something had pulled her to this place. The trail leading here wasn’t very well traveled, at least not the route she took. Maybe that’s why she was drawn this way when the strain of life welled up too great to manage.
She climbed partway up the mountain to the ledge and started over the narrow trail toward the cave, but her spirit was still too unsettled to face Bright Sun or her grandfather. Seeing them would require her to offer a strength and support she didn’t possess at the moment.
She maneuvered the tricky spot without trouble, and at the place where the low rock required a step up, she sank down to sit. From this vantage point, she could stare out at the majestic peaks rising up to hide in the clouds above.
So much grandeur, and her such a little creature in the midst of it all. God had made every intricate detail of this vast landscape and still knew every bit that happened with any of His creation.
He even still cared. That was the marvel that truly stretched her mind. Thank you, Lord. Her emotions were too raw to summon any more than that, but God knew what she meant.
Even now, she could feel the strength of His arms wrapping around her. Tucking her under the shadow of His wing like a mother hen shelters her brood. His was the strength that had pulled her through the loss of her family, and His was the only strength that would carry her through these troubled days. Once again, He’d placed people in her life to be the good through this present trial.
Nate’s easy smile swept through her mind.
Except now she wasn’t sure of him. Did he want nothing to do with her since that kiss? In her mind, she’d thought never to let a man so near her, not just physically near, but so close to her heart. To her yearnings.
But Nate wasn’t any man. He was . . . Nate. Strong and sure and good. Every part of him good.
Her chest tightened as a yearning crept through her that she had no business feeling.
She leaned back against the stone wall of the cliff behind her. This was all so exhausting. The memories. The pain. The longing. She let her eyes drift shut as weariness swept through her, stealing the strength from her bones.
Nate stopped short when he glimpsed the form slumped against the rock ahead. Laura.
The blood leached from his head as he took in her lifeless form. Had she fallen and hit her head? Surely she wasn’t . . . God, no. Not dead.
He wanted to charge forward, to shake her awake. But if something—or someone—had hurt her, they might still be around. Maybe whoever had placed those crates in the cave.
He pulled his pistol from his waistband and held it at the ready. Maybe carrying the Colt was a holdover from his days on the run, but between dangerous animals and men out there doing what he’d once done, keeping a weapon handy seemed like a good idea.
Easing forward, he kept his senses tuned for any sudden noises. As he neared, his ears picked up the gentle sound of Laura breathing. Thank you, Lord. She lives. The pressure in his chest eased a little. But he still had to beware of whatever had knocked her out.
He reached her and—keeping his focus on their surroundings and his gun aimed ahead—he bent low enough to touch her shoulder. “Laura?”
She lay back against the rock wall, almost as though she’d settled herself down for a nap. But she wouldn’t do that out here. Not on the edge of a precipice.
He’d returned from hunting early enough that he’d stopped by the clinic to see Aaron before heading to church. Maybe to even talk to Laura about what happened last night. To assure her he’d meant nothing untoward wit
h that kiss, and she didn’t have to fear he’d repeat it. At least, not unless she wanted him to.
But the debacle he’d found at the clinic still churned in his belly. None of what he’d seen and heard seemed as if it could be true. He couldn’t believe Aaron would do what the doctor claimed.
Yes, Aaron had been struggling with melancholy, and his temper had flared some this past week, but it was all brought on by pain. If he’d been groggy from the pain medicine he’d somehow gotten his hands on, he wouldn’t have been suffering from pain that would anger him.
None of it made sense.
When the doctor said Laura had gone for a walk, Nate had known without a doubt he’d find her here. His logical side had told him he should leave her alone to work through her frustrations, especially after he’d overstepped so much the night before.
But still he’d come. At the very least, he could apologize for the words and actions of his thick-headed brother.
And now . . . thank the Lord he’d come. He rested his hand a little more firmly on her shoulder. “Laura, can you wake up?” He gave her a little shake. He’d much prefer to awaken her by stroking the hair back from her face and speaking gentle words, but he had to keep his focus on their surroundings. Had to be alert in case an enemy still lurked nearby.
He let his gaze sweep over her again. No injuries that he could see. No swipes from a mountain lion. No blows to her face from a violent ruffian.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she stared up at him, unfocused. Then her eyes sharpened and her entire body stiffened as she stared up at him.
Seventeen
Stepping back from Laura, Nate returned his focus to a sweep of their surroundings. “What hurt you? Man or animal?” He kept his voice low so he didn’t call the attacker back to them.
She sat upright and looked around. “No one. Did you see something?” She scrambled to her feet.
He backed up to give her room. Maybe she had been struck in the head and couldn’t remember it.
He spared a longer look at her face, then her head for any sign of a bump. “You don’t remember anything?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like what? What happened?”
“You were sitting there, unconscious.” He motioned toward the rock wall. “Almost like you were sleeping. I haven’t seen whatever struck you. Where do you hurt?”
He glanced toward the cave. The opening couldn’t be seen from this spot, but it lay just around the curve in the wall. Maybe Bright Star had seen or heard something.
“I think I was sleeping.” Laura’s voice emerged quietly, as though she wasn’t sure if her words were true or not.
He darted his gaze back to her face. “Why would you be sleeping out here?” She must really have lost her memory.
But her eyes sharpened, turning a glare on him. “Because I couldn’t sleep last night after a certain man visited our kitchen.”
Heat flew up his neck, burning all the way to his ears. If she had to forget something, why couldn’t the lost memory be that one? But as her words fully settled in his mind, he had to fight a smile. She’d lost sleep over their kiss? Did that mean she’d been as affected by it as he’d been?
He’d lain awake hours himself, replaying the kiss over and over. Feeling the softness of her hair, the way her hands wandered up his neck. The delicious taste of her. Even now, the thoughts stirred his body to life. Made him want to step closer for another taste.
“Don’t even think about it, Nate Long.”
The bark in Laura’s tone brought him up short. And one more look at her glare told him she must not have lost sleep over the same thoughts and feelings he’d warred with.
Hers must have been regret.
He pressed his mouth shut as he gathered himself together. Another glance around showed no apparent threat. “You’re sure you were sleeping, not attacked?”
“Fairly certain.”
He’d have to take her word for it, but he’d keep his senses on the ready, just in case. “How are Bright Sun and Eagle Soaring?”
“I haven’t been in to see them yet.”
He raised his brows. “You haven’t?” She’d just stopped here on the trail to sleep? That didn’t make sense.
A hint of something—sadness? regret?—slipped into her eyes. “I just needed . . . a few minutes first.”
Understanding crashed over him. Aaron.
A surge of anger rushed through his veins. If he could clobber his brother with a hard right hook, he would. Just enough to knock some sense in him. How could Aaron have been so harsh that Laura had to leave her own home to escape? To recover from his barbs? The doctor’s tale of the morning’s events must have held more truth than Nate had wanted to believe.
Then another realization washed through him. He cocked his head to study Laura. “That first day when you hurt your ankle. Had you come up here to get away from Aaron?” He’d not known her nearly as well then, so he might not have seen how caring for his brother had worn on her. Maybe Aaron said things to hurt her even back then.
She raised her chin, as though trying to appear strong. Resolution shone in her eyes. Determination not to reveal pain.
The adrenaline leaked from his limbs. “Aw, Laura.” He wanted to step forward, to draw her close and take away all the misery she’d suffered, especially the pain from anyone he’d ever been connected with. Grief he’d caused, too, for he’d made his share of stupid mistakes.
But he knew better than to touch her, especially after last night. He scrubbed his hands through his hair to occupy them.
That move only made his sore shoulder ache, so he dropped his hands to his sides and looked at Laura again. “I know you said you’ve chosen to forgive Aaron. I also know from experience that making the choice can still mean it takes a while to finish the forgiving part. Especially when that person keeps on causing pain.”
As the words tumbled from his mouth, his chest tightened like a weight was being pressed against his lungs. “Aaron is struggling. I guess no one knows that better than you.”
The pain in her eyes pressed the weight even harder. “I can’t dismiss his words and actions, especially the ones that hurt you.” His voice cracked, and he had to swallow hard before speaking again. “But don’t let his brokenness break you down. Please.”
Only God could heal his brother. That truth was painfully clear all the way to his very core. But he couldn’t stand by and let Laura fracture because of his brother’s struggles. She was strong, and together, maybe they could help her stay that way.
She met his gaze, but her eyes had turned distant, as though her mind was drifting far away. Maybe back at the cabin where the kidnapping had ended in salvation for Laura and Samuel, but also in the end of Aaron’s hope for ever breaking free from the bonds that locked him in misery?
Laura didn’t move, just stood staring. Then a sob erupted from her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth, wrapping her other arm around her middle as she dropped her face, pain riddling her features.
Dear Lord. He sent up the prayer as he stepped forward, everything in him wanting to bring her comfort. To do something to ease the agony shaking her shoulders. She looked like her sobs might shatter her.
He touched her arm. When she didn’t pull away, he gave a gentle tug and she came to him, letting him wrap his arms around her. As he cradled her, she began to relax, one breath at a time. Her sobs turned to gasps, as though she struggled to rein in a runaway horse.
He held her tight with one arm and used the other to stroke her hair. “Cry, Laura. Tears are good. Healing.” Why he said that, he wasn’t sure, but the words just slipped out.
The depth of her pain seared all the way through him. An overwhelming mountain of sadness and fear, almost too great to overcome. Had Aaron’s words resurrected another tragedy from her past? She’d said she lost her parents and two brothers, and that was certainly enough to bring on this misery, but was there more he didn’t know about? How much had this woman suffered throug
h her life?
He’d admired her strength from the first moments he met her. He should have known that kind of calm determination in the face of danger had come from a history of facing demons. Help her, Lord. Help me help her.
Laura’s tears finally came. Not the writhing sobs she’d fought at first, but true crying, with giant drops streaming down her face. They soaked his sleeve within moments, making him thankful he’d taken a few extra minutes that morning to change shirts after hunting. He’d certainly not expected to have this woman in his arms again, but he could only pray this helped her.
He prayed, in fact, with every other breath he took.
At last, her inner spring ebbed, and her tears turned to sniffles. For a long moment, she rested her head against his shoulder. It was his injured shoulder, but he’d gladly bear the pain of her slight weight if he could offer comfort.
She finally pushed away from him, straightening to stand on her own. She sent a hesitant glance his way as she sniffed again and wiped her cheeks with her palms. “I’m sorry.”
He dropped his arms to his sides, his limbs conflicted between relief at no longer having to bear her weight and an incredible sense of loss at no longer feeling her touch, her soft warmth.
He cleared his throat as he worked for something to say that would ease her embarrassment. “It’s me who’s sorry. I should carry a handkerchief, but I’ve gotten out of the habit.”
The kind he’d carried before had been larger than the dandies used. More the size to cover a man’s face while he robbed an unsuspecting stranger. He’d gladly burned all those handkerchiefs. He’d rather give her his shirt to use if she needed a cloth, but that wouldn’t be acceptable, either.
She inhaled a long breath, then blew it out with a shudder. “I suppose I needed that.” She turned to stare out at the mountains around them. “My father spent most of his days either drunk or sleeping off a binge. He would get angry if my brothers or I bothered him unless he needed something. I suppose what happened this morning resurrected some memories I hadn’t”—she paused, seeming to search for the right words—“sorted through yet.”
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