The Mountain Man’s Babies: Books 1-5

by Love, Frankie

  He looks at me, his heart raw and mine for the taking. I will take it, now and for always, but I can't bear to see him hurt.

  But he loves me. He always has and he tells them that.

  "Cherish is the woman I love, the woman I want to marry. You can't come between us."

  I love him for his bravery, for his honor, and his commitment.

  But as a shovel is raised by the hands of a man I don't even know, and is slammed across the back of James' head, I know he is also a fool.

  Because he may love me, but his words will cost him everything.

  I was right for never giving in before, I knew what our love would cost him.

  His life.

  They swing the shovel again, and he falls backward into the shallow creek. His head is bloody, the clear water turning dark as he’s pushed under the current. Once, twice.

  I try to run toward him, but I’m dragged away, my screams loud, until I force them to stop. I muffle them with my knuckles, knowing every cry for mercy will result in more pain for my beloved. I turn my head, watching as he is beaten to a pulp.

  Watching as the man I love is murdered by my father, my family.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  I stop screaming, not knowing how to use my voice once James is gone. I start pulling away from the hold I'm in, bound by my father and George. I fall to the wooded ground, my body desperate to crawl backward, toward him.

  Toward James.

  But they won't let me. They pull me to standing, dragging me away from the river, away from the man I love.

  In the distance, he makes no cries, no pleas, nothing.

  I'm taken from the oak tree and led away to a life I never wanted but had been too scared to break free from.

  I'm led away from James.

  And in my heart, I know I am the very thing that killed him.

  After all, if he had never met me, he'd still be here.

  Instead, he’s gone forever.

  Chapter Six

  James

  Over the last year, I've been through hell and back.

  But I’m still standing.

  Still breathing.

  Still holding onto hope.

  Cherish.

  Cherish.

  Cherish.

  She may have grown up as Abigail, but now… now her name is exactly right. I cherish her in all the ways that matter. Her name is always on my lips. On my mind. A part of my soul.

  I live for her, though it's been a full year since I laid her perfect body on the bed of the forest, under the hot sun and blue sky. A year since I saw her smile in a way I hadn't seen in years. She was vulnerable and broken, but in my arms, she felt whole.

  I saw that in her eyes when she looked at me, asking for forgiveness she never needed. She is my salvation, and I don't need her to be a martyr, dying for an idea about herself that was never true.

  At least never true for me.

  But it's been a year and a lot can happen in twelve months’ time.

  God knows I've seen it all.

  Like waking up beaten and half-dead on a freight train headed south. I would have jumped, but my arm was broken, along with some ribs and a busted ankle—that much was clear. My head was cloudy, my memory shot; I didn't know if I was a day from Idaho or five. And when I finally came to and stepped off the train when it came to a stop, I found I wasn't alone. Jonah was with me, making me drink water, trying his hardest to clean my bandages. He kept me alive.

  "What happened?" I asked, willing myself to stand, palm trees around us, salty air working to wash away the blood and broken bones.

  Jonah looked at me, then hanging his head, he tells me it was his fault. Someone noticed I was gone, asked where I'd gone. His excuse didn't add up, and they beat the shit out of him, holding nothing back. Apparently, word had gotten out that my interest in Cherish had never waned, after all these years. And George wanted me gone before his wedding, not trusting a young bastard like me around his woman.

  When Jonah recounted the day, I gritted my teeth, wanting to punch someone or something. They'd beat the shit out of both of us, left us for dead, but then they put us on a freight train, not wanting our murders on their holy hands.

  I'd be dead if Jonah had taken as bad a beating as I had.

  But we were broke and had nowhere to go. Too terrified to go back where we came from—knowing our skulls would be smashed right through, were we to ever return.

  I yelled to the sky, demanding justice. Begged for a sign. I reached in my pants pocket, not finding any dollar bills, but my fingers found Cherish's guitar pick.

  It is the only sign I ever needed.

  Her.

  Mine.

  "What now?" Jonah asked.

  "Now we make a plan to get back to where we belong."

  Jonah shook his head. "No way in hell. I wanted out, but was scared to run in case they decided to find me. Now I’m free, no way am I ever going back there."

  I nodded, understanding. I wasn't going back there to stay.

  I'd only return once.

  To get what was mine all along.

  * * *

  And a year later I'm ready. The time is now.

  Jonah is older, and of course, we all are, but he was 18 when we left the compound, and in that time, he's grown into his skin. He's taller, stronger, ready to take life by the horns.

  I'm glad because when I leave here, I'm not coming back. But Jonah is gonna be okay here on his own.

  We've worked hard this past year, scraping by, living on the street until I got cleaned up enough that the two of us could stay at a homeless shelter. Thankfully the freight train stopped in Miami, and so roughing it isn't as hard as it might have been in, say, Boston. We got through the winter without starving, so that's something.

  Eventually, we started working construction jobs, it took some convincing to get hired on sites without any references, but once we had a tool in hand, our work spoke for itself.

  We made enough to get an apartment and work is steady now that we have a solid place on a crew. But I keep socking all my money away, knowing that when I return to Idaho, I'm gonna need enough money to start a life with Cherish.

  Knowing it might be hard to get her out, but I'm not stopping until my woman is in my arms.

  At the bus station, Jonah claps me open my back. "Feel good to ride back in a Greyhound instead of the way we came down here?"

  "Damn straight." I pull Jonah into an embrace. I owe him my life. He and I have fought to stand on our own two feet, and I know that we're never going back to where we came from. "You keep your chin up, Jonah, you hear me?"

  "You sound older than a twenty-four-year-old, fucker, you know that, right?" he asks.

  I pull back, grinning at the mouth on this kid. A year in the real world hardened us up real damn fast: if we weren't real men before, we sure as fuck are now.

  "I expect to hear from you, understand?" I raise a brow at him, trying to remain stoic, but inside I'm fucking torn up. Saying goodbye to Jonah is saying goodbye to family.

  "Yeah, I'll text you," he tells me. "And you better let me know where you are, all right?"

  "Don't go doing something stupid, you hear?" I tell him, waving goodbye as I board the bus, duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

  "Go get your woman," he hollers as I walk down the aisle to my seat.

  I cock my head out the half-opened window, and shout, "I love ya, bro."

  He raises his chin, salutes me, and the bus pulls out.

  I'm gonna go get my woman all right.

  And I'm not letting anything keep me from her again.

  Chapter Seven

  Cherish

  The whisperings grow to a roar and I know what I need to do.

  What I should have done a long time ago.

  After James died and Honor left—leaving a scandal in her wake—police officers began knocking on doors. CPS reports were filed and everyone at the compound knew we needed to leave.
r />   The men were the only ones who knew where we were going.

  But I know I can't go with them.

  As my sister-wives help George prepare for our new start—canning vegetables, packing trucks with tools and equipment—I prepare for my own departure.

  There's a twelve-passenger van that I keep loading with dry goods, and extra pots or pans, linens, and of course all the baby gear.

  Because it isn't just me leaving. My triplets, who are three months old, are coming with me.

  This year has changed my life … and that is the understatement of the century.

  I fill up milk jugs with water and stow them in the van, with bars of soap and toothpaste. I take a little of everything as discreetly as possible. Thankfully, everyone is so preoccupied with leaving that they don't realize what I am doing.

  A year ago, Honor left, and then her sister-wives True and Kind followed. If they are brave enough to go, I can be brave too.

  And I know where I'm headed. A place James's family took me to once when we were kids. High up in the Idaho Mountains, James's uncle had an old cabin that was abandoned. A bunch of families from the church would go up there for picnics, and all of us kids played hide and go seek for hours. I remember shrieking with laughter, running through a field filled long grass, then going deep in the forest where there were trees with trunks wider than I could reach around.

  The cabin was abandoned then, and I'm hoping it still is. It's not like I have any money—aside from enough for a single tank of gas. It must work. Word has gotten out that Honor and Harper live up there in the same mountains, but that their husbands built them fancy homes. I hope the run-down cabin hasn't been torn down... and I'm holding onto the little bit of faith I have left in this world that it’s still standing.

  I'm standing in the kitchen when George comes in. His eyes brighten when he sees Andrew in my arms.

  "How’s my son today?" he asks. I swallow at his words, knowing Andrew is no more his son than I am his wife. He may have taken me in his bed, but I had already given my heart, body, and soul to another. I may live here with George—but he is nothing to me. He is worse than nothing. He watched James's murder, and in all this time has never mentioned it. James’s death and the disappearance of Jonah are unspoken history.

  But it isn't dead to me. The memory of James is alive and well. And every time I look at our children, Harmony, Jacob, and Andrew, I know James lives on through them.

  That is why I must take this opportunity now that I have it. I was too scared to leave while pregnant—the pregnancy required me to be on bedrest for months—but now they are here, healthy and growing, and I can take them from this place that destroyed their father.

  "He's well, husband," I say, addressing George in the only way I am allowed. "And, how are you?"

  George looks at me greedily. "I will be better once I take you to bed."

  My stomach churns. I've avoided sleeping with George for a long time, but I know if I stay here, he will require me to lie with him again.

  Which is just one more reason I must go.

  "As you wish, just as soon as the midwife clears me I will join you in our marriage bed."

  I look up at him, forcing a small smile on my face, knowing I have to play the part for the rest of the day.

  Because I’m leaving tonight.

  And never coming back.

  "Good, good, Cherish." He leans in close, his coffee breath pungent and his pot-belly forcing me to pull away. But he won't let me. He holds my chin, drawing himself closer to me. "Because you are my favorite wife. The youngest and most fertile. There is nothing that will ever stop me from taking your body again."

  "What is mine is yours," I tell him in a whisper.

  "When we start our new life, you must know I am going to give you everything you desire."

  I bite my lip. "And where will our new life be? Where is this promised paradise?"

  George smirks. "You want answers?"

  I smile coyly. "Everyone is talking about Wyoming. Is that where we are moving this week?"

  George shakes his head. "I'll tell you, but only after you've given me a kiss."

  Andrew starts crying in my arms, and I am grateful for the disturbance. It breaks the spell George is under and allows me to leave the kitchen quickly. "Sorry, he needs a diaper change."

  George nods, pursed lips, that hungry look still in his eye. He reaches for my bottom, squeezing it tight. "It's Montana, and tonight, I need you in my room. Midwife's orders or not. I demand it."

  I flash him a smile as I leave the room with Andrew, who’s now sobbing. He must have been as uncomfortable in the presence of George as I was.

  I need to go.

  Now.

  * * *

  I originally planned to leave when the sky was inky black and the house quiet, but after seeing George in the kitchen, I can't risk him looking for me in the middle of the night. And if I take the babies when everyone is asleep, what happens if one of them cries and wakes people up?

  The sister-wives hate me, mostly because I birthed triplets nine months after my wedding day. And the fact that two of them were boys, and all of them were healthy, made me the envy of the older wives. But they can have all of George's attention—I never wanted any of it.

  So, when I see them in the kitchen cleaning up the mess from dinner, I try to make an excuse as to why I'm leaving right after supper. With the babies.

  "I am going down to see the midwife," I tell them.

  "At this hour?" Treasure looks at the clock on the microwave. "It's after 6 o'clock."

  I nod. "I know... but George requested me tonight... And I need her to make sure I'm okay... to lie with him."

  They all know the birth was brutal, and that my body was battered afterward. The babies are just twelve weeks old now, and it isn't unreasonable that I have put off being with George. But they know he’s moody about having had to wait so long to have me. I'm sure they realize the whole house will be happier if George can sleep with me again.

  Not as if that's actually going to happen... but they don't know that.

  "And I thought, while I am down there, she can check on the babies, make sure they are okay."

  "Why wouldn't they be?" Treasure asks.

  I shrug. "I think Jacob has a cold."

  "In July?"

  "I know, strange, isn't it?" I smile serenely as if I’m as confused as she is.

  "Do you need someone to accompany you?"

  "No, I'm fine. I'll take the old van. Everyone hates that thing, but I don't mind it."

  Four of Treasure’s daughters are here now, helping with dishes, and she’s distracted—exactly what I hoped would happen.

  I walk past them and put the babies in a sling. Harmony on one side, Jacob slung across the other shoulder, and Andrew in an infant car seat. It’s cumbersome, but I only need to get to the van. The front door is wide open, and everyone is distracted. Older boys are packing boxes for our move and there are children playing in the front yard.

  I move quickly, deliberately. James would have wanted me to go. His death opened my eyes to the world in which I live.

  I will escape, remembering the father of my children with every mile I put between them and this horror-house I’ve called home.

  And then in a flash, I've buckled up the children, put the key in the ignition, and I drive out under the guise of visiting the midwife who lives on the other side of the compound.

  This is going to work. It has to.

  I've already lost James.

  I can't bear to lose anything more. And not just for me.

  For my babies, too.

  James wanted to rescue me all along, and I hope somehow, somewhere, he knows that he has.

  Chapter Eight

  James

  When I get to town, I start asking questions.

  But there isn't a lot in the way of answers.

  The people at the compound left over a week ago, in the dead of the night.

  At t
he gas station store, I press. "What do you mean they all just disappeared? Surely there has got to be more detail than that?"

  The clerk just shakes his head. "Sorry, son. You know those people?"

  "I used to." I feel a dark pain sear through my heart. "Are the cops involved?"

  The clerk frowns. "Word is they have no reason to be. Guess CPS had been poking their noses around after that woman left, caused a bit of a scandal, but nothing came of it."

  My eyes narrow. "A woman left?"

  The clerk shrugs, raising his hands in the air. "I don't know much, I just hear things. A woman left, pressed charges of abuse against the leader, says she was a sister-wife or something? Not sure about all that besides the HBO show Big Love. If there was polygamy, the cops would have cracked down harder, I'd have thought."

  I laugh sharply. "Oh, there was polygamy all right."

  "Sorry, I can't help you."

  I nod, understanding. With my bag over my shoulder, I walk the two miles to the compound. It's a warm day, and I’m reminded of the last time I say Cherish.

  It's hard to accept that she isn't here now, but I figured it might be a long road to travel before she was back in my arms.

  I'm not giving up hope.

  Not now, not ever.

  When I get to the property a fuckton of memories floods me, fast. I don't remember leaving this place, was passed out when they run Jonah and me away, but I sure remember being here. The dusty gravel road, the piles of tires. The buildings Jonah and I built one by one.

  But the clerk at the gas station was right. This place has become a ghost town. After walking around for an hour, looking at Cherish's dad's old trailer—ransacked and empty— I'm done.

  I find an abandoned car and can hot wire it. But thankfully, once I sit and buckle up, I find a key ring deep in the door pocket. I wouldn't say my luck has turned around, but at least I have a car to get me out of here.

  There's only one place I can think of to go…my sister’s house. Trouble is, it’s a place I’ve never actually been to before. But, it’s the only place I can think of where I might be able to find some answers.