"You can't keep me here! I need to see Alfred. He's a link, the only link I have to my family." Hysteria was taking control. Trapped by the weather, trapped by circumstance. Trapped! Trapped! Trapped! She balled up her fist, poised to strike. "Get out of my way or I will punch you."
His chuckle, his condescending expression had her aiming for his chin. Ducking, he easily dodged her sloppy blow and grabbed her around the middle, forcing her backward. She stumbled and the pair landed forcefully on the bed. He lay atop her, his long, heavy form pressing her into the straw mattress.
His countenance changed, the anger dissolving, his features softening and for the first time she caught a glimmer of the man beneath the beard. Was it possible that he was handsome? "I aim to keep you safe, Bobbie."
He reached up with his gloved hand and pushed the hair from her wounded forehead. The feel of him atop her, the power of his gaze and her heart sputtered into a strange new awareness. An unnatural heat spread through her groin and an ache settled low in her belly at the pressure of his hard thigh thrust between her legs. Warm breath tickled her flesh and had her gasping for air. What was he doing to her?
She wet her lips as the smell of whiskey and freshly fallen snow encased them. And even though she knew she should push him away, she didn't. She lay there, suppliant beneath him. Why was it she longed for this creature to kiss her? Was her need to feel the comfort of another human being so strong?
"You're a beautiful woman, Bobbie," he said, his voice raspy. "I don't want you here."
His unexpected words stung and her pride surged. "I don't want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here," she spat and shoved at him. "Now, get off me and let me see my dog."
He pushed himself up, his hands on either side of her face as he continued to stare. "You misunderstand. It's just that you make me remember things I want to forget."
She stopped her struggle and looked up at him, the pain in his eyes tangible. His loss something she understood, something they shared. But what haunted him? The desire to know had her overstepping boundaries she knew she oughtn't. She raked her fingers through her tangled hair and watched him, his lips a frown, his brow furrowed, anger and sorrow converging over his countenance and filling her with worry. He was damaged, so very hurt, his spirit all but broken.
"I'm sorry, David. Who has hurt you so deeply?"
His eyes grew cold, his gaze hard. "That's none of your business, Roberta."
"But David, I--"
"Suffice it to say she was my life, my reason for living and I don’t want to share. Understand? She's mine." He stumbled back, continuing to glower at her.
"David, please." She sat up, sorry that she had pressed him so hard. Jumping to her feet, she reached for him, but he pulled back and her hand sped past him.
"Stop! I want no parts of you, don't you understand? I'm not fit to be anything to anyone."
Her heart clenched at his rejection and she fought back her tears. "We both need a friend. Be my friend, I have no expectations beyond that."
He shook his head and stumbled toward the door. "I can't be your friend. You've got to let go of that ridiculous notion."
Against the gust of wind from the open door, she shouted after him. "It's not ridiculous. You're a good man. I've seen it."
***
The lantern hanging from the post cast leering shadows that danced across the barn walls. Ned nickered upon seeing his master, but David ignored the animal and in turn Ned lowered his head and buried his muzzle in his feed pan. Alfred slunk up to him and with his head lowered he waited for a pat.
"I'm not touching you, you ugly thing," he mumbled, and yet he reached down and stroked the brindle coat.
Closing his eyes, he let out a frustrated moan. He'd almost kissed her and if he had he wouldn't have stopped. He would have taken her. Made love to her and committed adultery. Self-loathing had him reaching for the flask. Unscrewing the silver top, he tilted the container only to find it empty.
"Damn it!" he cursed, flinging it across the stable and startling Ned. The nervous beast nearly went down on his knees and Alfred scurried away, hiding behind stored gear and bags of feed.
"Good man, huh?" That was laughable and once again memories of Sarah flooded his thoughts.
"I want to go home. Can we please leave this lonely place?" Her soft brown eyes filled with pleading tears, but he cast her concerns aside.
"In the spring. The mine is about to pay off. I've found small bits of ore and your father...."
"But I miss my folks," she interrupted. "Surely, Father will welcome us home."
"He'll never accept that you chose me over my brother. Never."
He recalled the cool tips of her fingers as she set them atop his hand. "When we tell him I'm going to have a baby, he'll forgive me and welcome you, the father of his grandchild, into the fold…"
The words had filled him with pride. A child. They were to have a child but their bond of love lay buried, unborn forever inside of his beloved.
"A good man would have listened to his wife and not longed for riches," he mumbled to the wind. Money, he now had more than his share in the bank at Colorado Springs…but he didn't have Sarah. Didn't have their babe. His endeavor for wealth was as pointless as his existence.
He stumbled forward. "Come, Alfred, Sarah needs you."
Anger surged up from his core. Had he truly just called Bobbie by his wife's name? He again reached for the flask in his empty pocket and groaned. Torture. Having her here was torture and he wouldn't sleep a wink until he saw her gone. Her absence was definitely something he'd work toward.
***
She embraced the dog as if he were a long lost relative. But he was, wasn't he?
"Thank you for bringing him to me." Her gratitude had her offering her stoic host a smile. "His being alive gives me hope that my family survives."
He shrugged and turned his attention to the fire. Taking up the poker, he roused the embers and set fresh kindling and logs atop the fading flames.
"And to you he may be rather unattractive, but at this moment he's the most glorious sight on earth."
Still, he didn't look at her or respond. His silence, his mood, both solemn and angry filtered from him, filling the surrounding area with a heaviness that had her wary.
"We can be friends, David."
His only response was a guttural grunt, more befitting his exterior than the genteel Southern accent that usually accompanied his words.
"Are you truly not open to a companion in this lonely place?"
Finally, he looked to her, his countenance alive with rage. "I am content to wait here to die, Roberta."
She buried her bandaged fingers in the folds of flesh on Alfred's back and the dog groaned with pleasure. She chose her next words carefully, wanting him to open up to her and yet worried that he'd view her as a nosey interloper. "Your lady love must have been very special. I wish I could have known her."
He glared at her now, his eyes bleary from either lack of sleep or over abundance of alcohol. Either way, her heart thrummed in her chest and her nerves pricked with a combination of worry and fear.
"Women didn't really like her," he said, biting his lower lip contemplatively. "I think most were jealous of her."
"I understand that," Roberta replied, her focus on Alfred as she attempted to appear nonchalant. "I imagine having someone love you as much as you love her would garner envy in other women."
He moved away and left her sitting before the fire, her dog's head resting contentedly in her lap. "You don't understand anything. And don't try to talk to me about her anymore. I'll not let you in. You are here on a temporary basis and for that reason alone, your insights are not welcome."
His words stung and enraged. What was the matter with him? Did he have no manners? No common decency?
Watching him wander to the back of the cabin and rummage through the shelves of supplies, she knew the truth. This place had ruined him, robbed from him of his happiness and stripped him
of his humanity…and yet here she was, warm, sheltered and fed, so how bad could he really be?
She continued to stare, determination settling over her. With a raised eyebrow, she knew she'd break through. He'd be what kept her busy until her hands and feet healed. He would be her distraction. Besides, she owed him her life and maybe while she waited to be reunited with her family, she could help him get his back.
"While I was trekking all over the mountain, I set a couple of traps," he said, his words coming out in monotone. Any passion she had aroused was gone, and she could hear how dead his voice actually was. "Hopefully, tomorrow we'll have some fresh meat. But tonight we'll have to settle for a jar of peaches and some jerky."
Her stomach rumbled and she set her hand atop it. Why did salty jerky and peaches have her mouth watering? Oh, what she wouldn't give for a bowl of Ma's stew and fresh baked bread. "Thank you for looking out for me. Do we have enough food for Alfred, too?"
The dog slid her a contented glance, his long tail thumping lazily against the dusty planks of the wooden floor.
"He'll get his ration, as for having enough to keep him so fat? I can't promise you that."
She smiled down upon her dog, so glad to be reunited, so glad God had offered her some hope. "He's taking care of you, too. You see, he's not so bad after all."
Chapter 4
For near three hours Bobbie watched him from the warmth of her bed. He had set up a pallet before the fire, yet he didn't lie down. He sat there, slouched over, the bottle never far from his lips. Her heart ached for him. She had never seen someone drink more than a small glass at a time. He would be drunk soon and then what would he do?
"David?" she called to him, her tone tentative, and her heart atremble with worry.
He didn't answer her, didn't even look her way, just threw his head back, swallowing the rest of the dark liquid.
"David?" she said his name again, this time a little louder.
After an agonizing pause, he turned to her, the fire in his eyes not unlike the flames that now licked the fresh wood.
She knew she was entering into dangerous territory, for she recalled in great detail her preacher's warnings of the evils of drink. Yet despite her trepidation she ventured onward, unable to keep her opinion to her self. Drinking was wrong and the way he was abusing the bottle, well it was bad…and wasn't it her duty as God fearing woman to say something to aid the man that saved her life?
"You're going to make yourself sick."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't you get it, Bobbie? I don't care."
Her lower jaw trembled as she brushed dewy perspiration from her brow. When had it gotten so hot in here? "Why?" she asked.
He threw the bottle across the room, the sound of shattering glass sending a chill racing across her flesh. "You know why." His words were slurred, his voice loud as he struggled to stand.
Dear God, he was an imposing man, broad and tall. She reached for Alfred, who didn't stir, too tired from his disaster and too full of jerky to care. Pa always said he was a useless canine. Until now, she would have defended him.
David ambled over and leaned across the bed, the scent of alcohol brushing across her face. "She's dead and it's my fault."
Alfred lifted his head and finally bared his teeth, a threatening growl low in his throat.
"Your fault?" Oh, dear Lord! Had he killed her while under the influence of the devil's brew? Is that what he meant? She scooted away from him, stopping only when her body collided with the rough hewn logs of the wall.
Alfred stood between her and the madman, his hackles rising as he continued to growl his warning.
"Yes. I made her come here and now she's dead. I should have never taken her away from her family." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Never."
His explanation momentarily eased her worry. She reached for Alfred. "It's all right, boy. He's not going to hurt me." Looking up to David, she could see in his eyes that the danger had passed. "Are you?"
He dropped his fisted hands to his side. "No Bobbie, I'm not going to hurt you." She offered him the smallest of smiles and he shook his head. "You and your ugly dog certainly do make a strange pair." His voice had grown weary.
Stumbling over to his pallet, he slumped down and fluffing his pillow, reclined.
She too lay back, but sleep did not come. For outside all she could hear was the howling of the wind and her thoughts turned once again to her family. Like his woman, had this place claimed them?
"No more talk," he mumbled and within moments, she could hear his regular breaths and knew he slept. If only it could be that easy for her.
Maybe she couldn't sleep because of how much she had rested throughout the day. But more likely than not, sleep evaded her because she had grown so incredibly hot and her hands and feet so achy, that she could find no comfort.
Still, she tried. She closed her eyes and listened to Alfred's relaxed breathing and David's low, rattling snore. The minutes ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the firelight that danced across the wooden ceiling. Tears formed and slipped from her eyes, but this time it wasn't from emotion. The orbs burned and ached. Shifting her weight, her hips protested the movement and the feverish temperature of her body became more and more difficult to ignore.
"Just what I need," she mumbled, knowing only too well that she was sick, just as her brother had been not a week before. His illness had set them back an entire week's time. How far would they have made it into the Rockies had he remained healthy?
Bobbie moaned and kicked the blankets from her, hoping the cold air would saturate her flimsy shift and put an end to the wretched, cloying heat. Instead, her teeth rattled as a chill encompassed her body. Miserable…she was completely miserable, mind, body and soul.
Curling into a shivering ball, she called to David. She needed his help, she needed something cool to drink. But he didn't respond, his annoying snore still jangled through the darkened cabin. Why did he have to drink so much? Ma and the preacher had been right, the drink was evil, especially consumed bottles and flasks at a time.
"David," she called again, this time the urgency in her voice had Alfred staring at her from over his shoulder. Blast it but the man still slept. She nudged Alfred with her toe. "I don't suppose I can count on you for a glass of water." The dog moaned and dropped his head back down on the mattress. "The pair of you are useless," she mumbled through chattering teeth. "I'll get it myself, but don't expect me to share my ration of jerky with you, you ingrate."
Very slowly she rose from the bed, the pain in her feet causing her to stumble. Her head grew unpleasantly light and the cabin seemed to shift first to the left and then to the right. She grabbed at her head, hoping to stop the nauseating movement. With her thoughts fuzzy, she staggered toward the back of the cabin. That was where he stored all the food. If there was no bucket of water back there, what would she do?
"I'll go out and fall face first in the snow, that's what I'll do," she answered, a cold chill attacking her with icy teeth. She forgot about the water, her new concern quickly becoming whether or not she could get back to bed without falling over.
"David!" she shouted this time, but it was too late for him to come to her aid. No. She was going down, the cold, dusty floor the last thing she felt before losing awareness.
***
He awoke with a start. How was it the dream was so vivid? There she was, Sarah on their wedding day, her pale cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink, her dark eyes soft with tenderness. He reached out to touch her and for the first time since losing her, he felt the smooth skin of her face and savored the warmth he found there.
He didn't move beyond the touch, simply stared at her, wanting to memorize each and every detail the dream presented. The small dimple in her chin, the smattering of freckles across her nose, the way her mouth curled into a stunning, happy smile. God help him he loved her more than he had the day she died. Tears filled his eyes and yet they hung on the lashes, ref
using to fall. He hadn't cried since her death…why was he verging on tears now? But an even bigger question forced its way to the forefront. Why had he dreamt at all? He'd not had a single dream since that night…what was different?
A low growl filled his throat as he turned his attention to the bed. The solution to that question was easily found. Roberta Shallcross. Her very presence in his life, the guilt at his surge of desire for her and he knew he needed to send her packing. Damn her for dredging things up and making him remember…
His mind was hazy from the drink, but he'd have it out with her. Tonight she would know her fate, for tomorrow he'd pack her up and take her to Henry's. Henry would know what to do and he'd see her safe. Damnation but she wasn't what he wanted or needed. And why'd she have to be so blasted pretty?
He lurched toward the bed and then reeled back. He had expected to see her deep under the covers, her lovely face angelic in the firelight. But the bed was empty save the ugly damned dog.
Worry sobered him and running his fingers through his hair, he grimaced. Where was she? He would have heard her leave the cabin, she had to be here, and yet the panic had him staggering toward the small, shadowed back room. When the toe of his boot struck her soft, pliable flesh, she groaned.
"Bobbie?" He fell to his knees and pushed the hair from her face. Her skin was hot and his stomach dipped. Was she going to die in this place too? "Wake up, girl. I need you to talk to me."
She moaned, the sound sending a ripple of fear through his body. It was a sad, desolate sound. He slipped his hands beneath her and easily lifted her into his arms, and that was where the ease ended. Damn the booze, but he couldn't walk straight. The moments slipped slowly by as he struggled to get her into the bed. Finally, he made it and with a grace that surprised him, he set her down gently on the mattress.
She opened her eyes, the glassiness in the stare alarming. "Dr. Stark? Where's Ma?"
"Bobbie, it's me, David," he whispered hoarsely. Leaning forward he pulled the blankets over her feverish form. "Don't you know me?"
Harris Channing Page 3