Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  They’d talked about him being a high-ranking member of the elite and highly confidential military unit called Delta Force; about the danger, the intensive training, and skill set that had distinguished him above the rest; about him commanding his team through more successful missions than any other Delta Force team up to that time. He’d joked about their importance to keep what he told them secret since his missions contained sensitive information and how his team would rile him to no end about being pushed down a mountain by a “kitty cat.” At first he’d been hesitant to talk about it all. Maybe he worried the violence that had surrounded him the last ten years of his life would frighten her and Beatrice. However, once she’d talked to him, she’d never questioned his motive or morality. His every memory shared seemed saturated in his burden to rescue the innocent and protect the precarious freedom of the future United States that those of her time took for granted. Every memory shared made her heart more tender to the amazing man that he was.

  Their conversations had moved to family, and they’d shared stories of their childhoods. She smirked at the memory of him mock shuddering when she told him their mother had named them after characters by her favorite author, Shakespeare. Hunter confessed that when he’d had to study Shakespeare in school, he’d read the sonnets hoping somehow the poetry would get him noticed by the girls. It had surprised her to learn they shared the experience of losing parents and feeling the pressure of raising a sibling. But the conversations she cherished the most were the ones late at night after Beatrice went to bed, when they talked about their dreams, about God and their fears. It was in those times she opened her heart completely, and she hoped and felt as if he had too.

  Hunter hobbled over with the basket and plopped down on the grassy bank of the stream. He scratched at his growing beard, then lay back with one arm wrapped around his ribs and the other crooked behind his head. She thought he looked handsome in the buttoned cotton shirt she’d made him and buckskin pants she’d adjusted to fit him. He appeared as comfortable in the clothing of now as he did in the clothing he’d worn when he got here. How crazy to think after less than two weeks of knowing him, she felt as if her life would never be complete with him gone.

  Not wanting to dwell on how she’d survive if God took Hunter back, she asked, “Would you like me to shave your beard?”

  Hunter opened one eye and regarded her skeptically. “You ever done that? I thought mountain men had rugged beards and never cut their hair.”

  Viola laughed at his wariness and description. “Well, some of them never shave or cut their hair, I’ll give you that. However, Pa and Orlando have me shave and trim them every spring.”

  Hunter hesitated. “So you’ve shaved your dad and brother once a year. That’s not much practice.”

  “It’s up to you.” Viola shrugged, pulling the last dress from the washtub. “It certainly wouldn’t itch if I shaved it.”

  “I thought the idea was for me to blend in.” Hunter opened both eyes to look up at her. “Won’t the other men here think it’s weird if I’m clean shaven?”

  “There are plenty of men who shave, even here in the mountains. Besides —” She shrugged shyly, looking at the dress she was wringing to dry. “— I rather enjoy being able to see your face.”

  Hunter sat up, eyeing her with interest. He rubbed his hand over his scruffy, short beard and nodded. “Okay,” he replied with a slow grin. “I’ll let you shave this fur off.”

  Viola’s heart raced, and she wondered if she made a mistake in offering. It was one thing to be close to help an injured man, but an entirely different thing to shave a healthy man. A man who stared at her like she was cake waiting to be devoured and whose crooked smile made her light-headed and brave at the same time. Viola shook her head at herself as she went to fetch the shaving supplies. This definitely was a mistake.

  Chapter 12

  This was a mistake, Hunter thought as he sat on the homemade stool Viola had brought from the barn. The laundry flapped in the wind, and the birds sang in the trees. With the creek bubbling next to him and the song the bloomers and birds were making, Hunter should’ve been relaxed.

  Viola ran the straight razor back and forth over the leather strap, the scraping sound sending tiny shivers of fear skittering across Hunter’s skin like a tiny army of spiders raced there. She tested it and nodded in satisfaction, making him gulp. She placed shaving soap into a cup and frothed it until it looked like whipped cream, then stepped up to him.

  As nervous as he was about letting someone scrape a sharp razor across his neck, he couldn’t help but notice the intimacy of having Viola do it. Sure, she’d been taking care of his wounds, her fingers leaving trails of fire everywhere she touched, but this spoke of what could be a lifelong action, something she’d do often once he convinced her to take a chance on someone who knew next to nothing of this time and marry him.

  Hunter wasn’t sure if he should worry about his easy assimilation into this time and lack of desire to return to his. It near broke his heart that he’d never see his brother Chase again. Hunter figured he’d always worry about how Chase was doing, especially with the way Hunter had disappeared. After their parents had died, Hunter had watched how Chase had skirted the edge of the wild side. Thankfully he’d never fallen into anything drastic like drugs or alcohol, but he pushed the envelope of danger, always trying the next big stunt. Hunter had been glad when it seemed like Chase was beginning to settle down, making some money investing, and seeming to make peace with life instead of flirting with death. Hunter hoped him being gone didn’t push Chase over the edge, but Hunter knew deep within him that he’d never return to the future again. He was home, plain and simple, and this was where he would remain to the end of his days, Lord willing.

  Viola stepped up to his side and began putting the foam on his face. His lips turned up at the idea of her being this close the rest of his life.

  Shaking her head, she chuckled. “You continue to smile like that, you’ll wind up with soap in your mouth.”

  “Sorry.” Hunter peered into her eyes and grinned even bigger. “I can’t help but to smile when you’re this close.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes, a soft pink rising up her neck and cheeks as she turned to put the cup of soap down. She draped a towel over her arm and grabbed the razor. Her shoulders seemed tense, and as she raised the razor her hand shook.

  “Lord,” Hunter elaborately prayed, hoping to dispel her nervousness and tension. “Please still Viola’s hands so she doesn’t slice my neck open before I kiss her. Amen.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” Viola glared mockingly, the blush now adorably red, her hands now still as she lifted the blade.

  “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, her honey, cinnamon breath wafting over him.

  She guided his head where she wanted it, then with a rhythm that soothed him, began gliding the razor down his face. She worked confidently from one cheek to the other. When she got to the front of his face, she leaned over his knees. Presented with an opportunity he didn’t want to refuse, he opened his knees and pulled her closer by the waist. Viola started and gazed into his eyes, but when he thought she’d look away shyly like she always did, she didn’t. She stared at him openly, somehow conveying her reciprocation of all he felt for her. She smiled, leaned into his leg a bit and finished shaving his face.

  Viola did one last swipe at his neck with a flourish, wiped the blade clean on her towel, closed the blade, and tucked it into her apron pocket. She took the towel from her arm and wiped his face clean.

  “Not a scratch on you,” Viola teased, a twinkle in her eyes.

  She started to pull away, but Hunter held tight, spreading his hands up her back. He tried to think of some smart-aleck remark, but all he could think about was her and her lips and how much he’d wanted to discover if they tasted like honey and cinnamon. She allowed him to pull her close, her heart beating rapidly against his hand pressed to her back.

  When she placed her hands on his
shoulders, he leaned the rest of the way to her. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

  He tentatively pressed a kiss upon her lips. When she sighed and leaned further into him, her arms circling tight around his neck, he deepened the kiss. This was where he belonged, melded within her embrace. He breathed her name as he feathered kisses along her cheek and down her neck, sinking his hands deep within her hair. She grabbed his face in her hands, bringing his mouth back to hers, and kissed him with such passion his heart raced faster than it had on any mission he’d ever had.

  “So, this is what you two do while I’m off slaving away in the barn, mucking stalls?” Beatrice’s question skidded into Hunter’s mind as Viola ripped away from him with a gasp, her hands flying to her cheeks.

  Hunter glared at Beatrice, hoping she saw how much he didn’t appreciate her intrusion. She smirked and shrugged. She turned to Viola, raised an eyebrow in question, and placed her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sick of eating deer. I’m going to go hunting, see if I can scare up a rabbit or two,” Beatrice said, her tone all business as if she hadn’t just interrupted the most amazing moment of Hunter’s life.

  “I still have the sheets to wash,” Viola said, turning to pick up the basket. “I’m not going to be able to go for a while.”

  “I’ll go by myself, like I always do,” Beatrice said, turning toward her horse that stood saddled and hitched to the corral.

  “Okay,” Viola said.

  “No,” Hunter said at the same time. Hunter glared at Viola when she disagreed, which she returned with a cock of her eyebrow.

  Beatrice huffed and crossed her arms. “I’ll be alright. I won’t go far and will be back within a few hours.”

  “It’s not safe for you to be out there without someone watching your back,” Hunter said, standing from the stool. “We’ll all go.”

  “I’m not leaving this laundry. The water’s hot and ready. I don’t want to have to set this up again tomorrow, and the sheets need a good scrub,” Viola said, her fingers tightening around the basket as if she thought he’d pry it from her fingers and toss her over the back of a horse or something.

  Hunter exhaled and rubbed his hand over his forehead and eyes. Both ladies wanted different things, both had valid points and yet both couldn’t be done at the same time without leaving someone alone. He was going to make someone upset when he made his decision. This was why he loved the military. With the army, you were given orders, and you followed. In real life, that didn’t work out so well.

  “Beatrice, why don’t we go first thing tomorrow morning before the sun rises? That way we can finish the laundry and still get meat.” Hunter asked, hoping his voice sounded as convincing as he planned.

  “I’m going, Romeo, just like I’ve always gone. Who do you think watches over us when our father and brother aren’t here?” Beatrice asked, her shoulders tight in agitation.

  “Beatrice, I don’t like you going off to the woods alone right now, either,” Viola said, Hunter glad she’d finally come to his way of thinking. “If anything, it’d be better if I stayed here in the safety of the house while you two went hunting. No one can sneak up here in broad daylight with the way the house is located. I’ll get the rest of the laundry done, keep a vigilant eye on the horizon, and wear my holster at all times.”

  Beatrice nodded like the idea was smart while Hunter shook his head so hard he thought it might pop off. “No, no. I don’t want us separated. When the unit is together, it’s stronger.”

  Viola walked up to him with a look of compassion on her face that made him itchy. She placed her hand upon his arm, causing his muscles to twitch with anxiety. “Hunter, this is our life here. We can’t wait for the situation to be perfect or safe to do the things that need to be done. What we can do is assess the situation and pick the most logical approach.”

  “But —”

  “Both these chores need done.” Viola talked over him, which was another thing that he wasn’t used to in the army. “Pa set this homestead up so we wouldn’t be surprised by unwanted guests. Now, we know the Sweeneys are up to no good. If they show up, I’ll just bar myself in the house. There’s no way they can get in with the bar on. However, Beatrice needs to go hunting, and out there, she’s more open to attack. She needs your extra eyes right now, not me.”

  Hunter didn’t like it, wanted to refuse the logic, but he knew Viola was right. If he didn’t go with Beatrice, she’d go anyways. This wasn’t the army, where he could command people to do what he thought best.

  “I don’t like it. I still think we should all stay together, but I agree Beatrice shouldn’t go alone,” Hunter said, doubt thick on his heart and in his voice.

  “It’ll be alright, Romeo,” Beatrice said. “You’ll be back in no time to continue wooing your Juliet.”

  Viola glared at Beatrice. “Beatrice, really.”

  Beatrice walked to the barn with a laugh. Viola reached for Hunter’s hand and gave it a squeeze. How could he just leave her here?

  “Please,” Hunter begged, knowing his voice sounded pathetic. “Be safe. Keep vigilant.”

  “I promise, I will.” Viola squeezed his hand one more time before letting go and heading for the cabin.

  Hunter watched for a second before moving to the barn to help Beatrice saddle his horse, though he knew she didn’t need his help. These two women could take care of themselves without him, so why had God brought him back? Maybe he was wrong, and this family wasn’t the reason he was here. Was he making his own way, blazing his own path again, focusing on what he wanted instead of what God wanted? As Hunter stepped into the shadowed barn, a chill spilled over his head and slid down his neck causing him to shiver, and it had nothing to do with the cooler barn interior.

  Linc peered from the spot he and his brothers had camped out at to keep watch on the Thomas cabin. As he witnessed Viola and that man kissing passionately, right in the open field beside the stream for all the world to see, Linc could barely suppress his rage, bubbling hot and blinding. Whatever decency had remained in his heart turned cold and hard as Linc realized that the woman who was supposed to be his wife was happily throwing herself at another. The coldness spread from his chest to his limbs, and he vowed he’d make her pay for her indiscretion.

  The only thing that held Linc back from going in there with his guns drawn and firing was his superior intelligence that told him to hold off and wait. They had a plan, and it would work.

  “She don’t look too upset to be with him,” William the Idiot said.

  Linc glared at his youngest brother, wishing Robert wasn’t between them so Linc could whack the stupid right out of the little fool. William noticed Linc’s anger and cowered behind Robert. Perhaps Linc should just shoot William and put Linc out of his misery. How they shared blood was beyond him.

  Linc’s rage turned to glee as he watched unbelievingly as Beatrice and the interloper rode off across the field and into the woods, leaving Viola home alone.

  “Looks like the Good Lord is smiling down on us today, boys,” Linc said cheerfully. “We go get my bride now without anyone to get in our way.”

  Robert gave him a doubt-filled look while William curled more into himself like a baby. It was a plumb shame Linc was the only Sweeney with brains. He pulled hard on the reins and took off toward his future, toward his reward. As they rode closer, he swore he heard the angels singing down upon him in encouragement.

  Viola wrung the last sheet tight as she hummed the tune to Beautiful Dreamer, a song her brother had heard from some trapper once. She knew she acted ridiculous, singing over a hot wash pot, her hands scalded red and cracking from the boiling water and harsh lye soap. She probably appeared a fright, wearing her oldest dress stained from years of use and her hair stringy with sweat plastered to her face.

  Viola couldn’t seem to draw one ounce of worry over her appearance as the memory of the scorching kiss replayed over and over again in her mind. Hunter hadn’t cared that she l
ooked like a wet hen on a rainy day. He’d dug his hands right into her hair, the heat of the kiss practically consuming her right there next to the creek. If it had continued much longer, she would have needed to throw herself into the water just to cool down.

  Viola stopped humming and fanned her face with her hand at the thought of swimming with Hunter. Their clothes soaked and plastered to their bodies as he pulled her close for another kiss. Maybe she should suggest a nice swim when Hunter got back.

  Viola shook her head at that senseless notion and sang loudly as she hung the sheet on the line. “Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me. Starlight and dewdrops are awaiting thee.”

  A horse whinnied in return. Viola glanced around the sheet. Viola’s stomach dropped to her knees so fast she almost vomited. While she was off daydreaming, the Sweeneys had ridden up. She hoped she could make it to the cabin without them noticing her.

  Viola skirted around the sheets, keeping them between her and the Sweeneys as long as possible, then dashed for the cabin. The loud clip clop of horses’ footsteps as they came into the yard warned Viola she didn’t have time to lift the heavy bar to the door. She took off to her father’s bedroom, racing to the bookshelf that stood against the back wall. She released the secret lever and squeezed into the cave hidden behind, pulling the shelf closed behind her. Viola unholstered her gun as she heard the front door crash open.

  “Viola, dear, I’ve come to rescue you!” Linc’s yell squeezed her heart in fear.

  Viola backed two steps farther into the cave, her only light the sliver coming from underneath the secret door. The gun shook violently in her hands. She pointed it to the floor, not wanting the thing to go off accidentally in her unsteadiness. She took a deep breath, let it out with a prayer for help, and focused her attention on the sounds coming from the other side of the bookshelf.