Lizzie and the Rebel

by Stephy Smith

  At the closet, Frank pulled out the washtub. More melted snow mixed with hot water was poured in. The quilt hung from the rope he strung. A look crossed his face and he handed her the bar of soap. She finished her chicken soup.

  The need to wash the sweat off her body, she understood. His challenge was easily won as she shook her head in agreement. There wouldn’t be another scuffle; he had seen enough of her. She wondered if he had seen the scars across her back where the trapper had whipped her when she’d tried to turn her head or shut her eyes to escape the torture of her family.

  Sidled up to the tub, she waited Frank’s departure.

  He pulled the quilt closed behind her.

  “Where are your dresses, Lizzie?”

  “In a closet that’s behind the door in my room.”

  She glanced at the quilt and cautiously undressed. Nerves quivered just knowing he was on the other side. Taking a bath with someone else in the cabin was foreign to her.

  Chapter Seven

  Dresses of all colors decorated the closet. Satins, velvets, and her everyday skirts and blouses. Something told him she’d once lived as an upstanding woman in the community. Just like the doc had told him. She had been someone with great respect and social status. He searched the dresses and selected a dark blue, full-length dress.

  He draped the dress over the partition and picked up the reader. There were a few more splashes from the tub before the room grew silent. The reader faced down on the table. The vision before him took his breath in anticipation of seeing her in the dark blue dress.

  When she emerged from behind the quilt, his mouth dropped. Her eyes were clear, blue and pure. Her dark skin shimmered like gold and the wet, black hair hung down to her waist, dripping tiny droplets of water to the floor. Retreating into her room, Frank walked out with the brush in his hand.

  “Let me brush your hair. You need to save your strength.” He waited for her to take a seat and picked up a strand, then eased the brush through the tangles. Strand by strand, he reveled in the beauty of her.

  Searching her face from all angles, he memorized each curve of her cheeks. The straight line of her nose. The perfect full lips. The shine of her eyes glittered in the firelight. He wanted to caress her soft skin. Draw breath from the life of her lungs to sustain his mere existence.

  She was breathtaking in the dress. The smell of lilacs rose from her body. He closed his eyes to take in her bouquet. His breath caught. For the first time, he noticed how she brought life to the plain cabin.

  Frank lost his voice for a moment. “We need to talk.”

  “What is it?”

  “You know I’ll have to head home when the weather clears up. I don’t want to have bad feelings between us,” he stammered.

  “Yes. I thought you would want to go home when you were well enough to travel.” Her soft voice quivered.

  “I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  With high hopes, he prayed she would ask him to stay forever. She was too much of a woman to make that kind of commitment without promise of marriage, and he knew it.

  She didn’t love him the way he loved her. What an odd assumption on his part. How could he love her? They hadn’t known each other long enough to make that kind of declaration. What kind of thoughts entertained his heart on its own without consulting his mind first?

  “I imagine your family is worried about you.” He couldn’t help but notice the moisture pool in her eyes. His heart sank.

  “I wrote and told them where I’m staying and why I hadn’t left to come home. They know you were sick and expressed their concerns for you when they wrote back. They all wish you well.”

  “I’m sorry I kept you from your family. You should have asked one of the rancher’s wives to stay with me so you could go home to them.” The tears almost spilled down her lashes. “Can we continue this tomorrow? I’m in dire need of sleep.”

  Lizzie walked from the table to her room and closed the door. His gaze followed her through the door. He deliberated on how he had upset her.

  He didn’t know how or what he’d said to cause her reaction. Whatever it was, he made a point to remember never do it again if he found out what the cause was.

  Tomorrow, he sighed, we’ll clear the air. He tossed another log in the fire, he cleaned the dishes, put them away, and went to his room. Sleep was a total loss for him. He couldn’t stop the dread that filled him.

  He was torn between Lizzie and going home. Home seemed like some far distant dream that would never happen. Texas wasn’t the place he was interested in. It was his family who lived in Texas. His home for the last four years had been where God willed him a small amount of peace. He accepted it with utmost gratitude.

  At this time, he realized his home was with Lizzie on the mountain that had spared his life for the glimpse of an angel. He lay awake for a long time. When had all these feelings of protection and love entered the picture? There was no reasonable right to expect any such thing from her or himself.

  Yet, he did.

  Slumber encased him. He dreamed of her long black hair floating behind her. She sat majestically on the back of the palomino. The horse’s legs stretched as he carried his royal highness across the meadows and valleys. The sun swam across her glowing skin.

  He stood beside her at the edge of the soft, cooing river of melted snow swelling the banks. The air, so fresh and clean, gripped her body to implant its crisp aroma in her hair. He pulled in a deep breath. His dream became so vivid, so peaceful, so inviting, he never wanted it to end. Suspended between the heaven and stars, he battled to keep his dream alive.

  Coldness of the cabin stirred him awake. He tossed a log on the fire and wrapped in a blanket. The dream flooded back to him. It teased and taunted. He wondered what it meant. What kind of future could he provide for her, other than to help fight off troublemakers?

  If that was all he had to offer, she would be better off without him. He couldn’t expect her to give up her life to live with a man with nothing to offer but his heart. His heart that escaped him to be with her. She would forever hold it in her grasps. Was she aware it had mingled with her own?

  The beautiful woman had been through enough trying times without him. She had survived on her own in the mountains without the need of a man to protect her. Frank shuddered at the possibility she may not want to share her life with him. He shook the notion from his mind.

  The cabin stood quiet as he sipped a cup of coffee. Still fixated on the meaning of the dream, it didn’t take him long to decide to let Lizzie sleep longer. After all, she would need her rest, and he needed more time to think of how to win her heart. His newfound revelation of how he felt about her set about confusion and fright.

  He had too much time on his hands. A great deal of time leaving him to think that the unbearable desire to connect with Lizzie would grant him his wish to stay on the mountain. How could he convince her to let him stay? She had shown indifference as far as any love connection.

  Frank yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her, touch her, to make her love him. He closed his eyes to regain the vision of his dream and a life far away.

  Lizzie. Her name flittered in his mind as if it were a feather floating on a soft breeze. Her laughter took wings from soaring birds above in the spring. Eyes with expression burned within his soul.

  Uncertainty wavered and warred back and forth. A passion burned so hot he wasn’t sure if it was real or some fantasy taking place within him. The days on the battlefield left him defenseless against the lovely Lizzie. He shook the visions from his head.

  He prepared biscuits and gravy, scrambled some eggs and brewed more coffee. After a thorough search of the shelf for a tray in a cupboard, he piled the food on two plates and a couple of forks on the tray. It was time to lay his feelings out for her to pick through. He carried the tray to her bedroom.

  The blue dress was crumpled across the empty bed. Panic stricken, he ran from the room, calling her n
ame.

  There was no answer.

  His eyes focused on the empty peg where her coat had hung. He became aware he still had her gun.

  Serious thoughts ran through his mind as he climbed through the window and ran for the barn.

  “Lizzie! Lizzie! Where are you?” His heartbeat pounded as he searched every inch until he discovered the palomino gone from his stall.

  “Lizzie, where did you go?” he cried out.

  His steps hastened, eyes scanning the white of the land. His heart plummeted as he readied his horse.

  Where could she have gone? He was at a disadvantage of not knowing her routine, the land, and the trails. Yet, his determination to find her propelled the steps he took to bring her back to the safety of the cabin.

  The air was too cold for her to wander around the mountainside. Bitterness of the storm attached to the landscape. His eyes searched for tracks to follow.

  There was no wind. He followed the palomino’s track down one trail and up another. For a while he thought she was leading him in circles. He had no idea how far away from the cabin he came. Nor did he care until he could bring Lizzie back to the safety and warmth of her home.

  Trails stretched around boulders, zigzagging upward. He heard a low growl that stood the hair on the back of his neck. He stopped and crept around a corner in the trail. His breath stopped in his lungs.

  The mountain lion perched on the rock above her head. Its tail floated above the boulder, softly swaying back and forth as if to say it was almost time for breakfast. Lizzie wasn’t aware the animal had stalked her. She sat on her horse, eyes fixed on the cold ashes of the campfire.

  Resistance quieted his call. There was no way to warn her of the danger she was in. He pulled his rifle from its sheath and took aim. He waited for it to make a move.

  Chapter Eight

  Lizzie rode to the mountain where she’d found Frank and his cousins. How could he have touched her hair with such love in his strokes only to tell her he couldn’t wait to leave?

  She needed to focus on the cattle and the ranch. She needed to get out of the cabin to escape her thoughts. The thoughts of the one man who made her feel it was worth her time to keep him alive. Alive long enough to leave. In return, he’d kept her alive long enough to throw it in her face that he would leave soon.

  She would never go through that pain again. Just like the trappers. Never again, she vowed, staring at the cold campfire where the soldiers had stayed. Mounting her horse, she circled. There, above the trail, sat the cat she had been tracking the day she’d found Frank.

  Her heart pummeled her chest walls.

  Her fingers tingled, and she was poised to kill the big cat taking food from the neighbors and letting Spirit take the blame. The wrath of her anger fixed on the beast.

  “Did you miss me? Well, you picked the wrong day to visit, big cat. Now, I have to put a bullet in you.” Her soft words didn’t seem to affect the cat. She was in no mood to grant mercy to anything.

  Slowly, she reached for the pistol in her pocket. The breath swooshed from her lungs and her heart picked up at the discovery her pistol was missing. Repulsion wrapped her terrified body with helplessness against the crouching cat. It would take too long to pull the rifle from its constraints to free herself unless she could ease it from its sheath. The vision of the damage to her horse from the snarling fangs of the beast flashed in her mind. What other choice did she have?

  In a soothing voice, she continued to explain to the beast how she wanted to end its life, even if she had to do hand-to-neck combat with the awesome, powerful, and swift feline. Inch by inch, she worked the rifle clear of the sheath.

  “We almost have it made, you and I. You can’t go around killing my cattle or anyone else’s and get away with it.” She pinned her eyes on the beautiful, deadly animal above.

  The sound of gunfire knocked Lizzie to the ground. She cocked her rifle and made ready for the unknown assailant. The pound of her chest left her hands shaking. Her trigger finger twitched with unspent desire.

  The cat slid across the boulder, leaving a streak of blood down the side of it. Frank stood poised in a war stance holding the smoking gun. A cloud of fog swarmed from between his lips.

  His wide eyes glanced Lizzie’s way. He paused a second and then walked toward her.

  With a quick glance at the cat lying lifeless a few feet in front of her and then back to Frank, her mouth dropped open. She’d wanted to be the one to bring the cattle killer to justice. First, he steals her heart, and now he’d taken away her glory.

  They advanced on one another, then she stopped in front of him and gazed in his eyes. His warm hands reached up and cradled her cheeks. He lowered his lips to hers. Ease and gentleness showed in his eyes as he kissed her. Deeper and deeper, the kiss grew to such intensity the shudder seemed to shake the mountainside.

  Her hands went to his chest. She tried to resist his touch, his kiss, but something inside refused to obey her mind. His lips were so sensual, his touch magnificent, and his presence so magical she couldn’t let go. Her fingers clenched his shirt and pulled him closer. She took a step and leaned into his body as if she could melt herself to him. He broke the kiss and pushed her away.

  “Get on your horse.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. He walked over and yanked the reins from her hands. Then, he led her horse behind his to the barn.

  When the horses stopped, he slid down and grabbed her arm. He guided her to the cabin. Without a word, he waited for her to crawl through the window. Once she was clear of the window, he crawled in after her and grabbed her shoulder. One quick motion twirled her around to face him.

  Hope built up for another kiss. Her heart beat as wild as the storm. The electricity diminished when his cold stare met hers. On shaky legs, she tried to step back from him. She wanted nothing more than to run to her room and slam the door. But he blocked the path between her and the safety of her room. Instead, she froze to wait for his wrath.

  “What were you doing out there alone? Mercy me, woman, do you have some kind of death wish? I had a hard time tracking you. You’re lucky the wind died down and the snow let up.”

  Anger boiled in her veins. She sloughed his hands from her shoulders. “How dare you talk to me that way? It’s no concern of yours where I go or what I do. You can’t wait to get out of here. You’re free to go whenever you choose. This is my home, and I have to take care of my business.” Her shoulders raised and she defied his glare.

  “Lizzie, you’re still weak from the fever. You didn’t even check for the pistol, or you would have known you didn’t have it with you. You weren’t thinking too clear, or you wouldn’t have pulled such a silly act like that.”

  “It wasn’t a silly act. I went to check my cattle. I tracked the cat to the area. When I got to the campfire—when I got there, I remembered the day I found you.” Her voice wavered and she fought to keep control of her emotions. Afraid she would lose the battle, she detoured around him and marched to her room.

  Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped to her chest. A tray full of food, two plates and a pot of coffee sat on the table. She whirled around to see Frank crawling out the window.

  “Wait.”

  He kept walking. In a hurry, she climbed out the window and followed him to the barn.

  “Frank, wait. You haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

  “I’m not hungry.” His voice was harsh, stern and almost bloodcurdling. He was mad, but she didn’t know why. She was no concern of his.

  “Are you leaving now?” Her insides were on fire. She didn’t want to know the answer, nor was she prepared for the inevitable yes.

  “No. I’ll let you know when I leave. Let me be, Lizzie.”

  Shrugging her shoulders, she walked to the cabin. Pacing across the wooden floor didn’t bring him in any sooner. Lizzie tried to study, but was unable to concentrate.

  The brush felt heavy in her hand as she scrubbed the wooden floor until her hands tenderized in the har
sh lye water. A thin feather duster sent dust to fill the air. She fought to breath. Dishes rattled and jars clanked together as she rearranged the cupboards. She washed clothes with the force of thinning the material. Then she moved to the bedrooms and made the beds.

  There was only so much one could do in the cabin. She couldn’t go to the barn and tend to business out there since Frank was already taking care of it. If she chose to hike up one of the nearby trails, it would land her in more hot water. Her embroidery basket sat in the corner without being touched for years.

  A slight weight lifted from her shoulders. She still had a ways to go before calm was foreseeable. It took little effort to pull the tub from the closet and set it in her room.

  Filled with warm water, Lizzie stripped down and lowered herself in the tub. She relaxed against the metal and let the warmth take the place of the imprints Frank’s touch left sizzling on her body. Her eyes drifted shut to let her devour a peaceful moment.

  The world had fallen apart in front of her. How did he expect her to know he would come looking for her? All she did was do her job of taking care of the mountain and protecting her livestock. He was the one who’d interrupted the process the day she found him.

  What was going on in that mind of his? Did he think that his presence in her home was going to stop her from her chores? They were both capable enough of taking care of themselves.

  She couldn’t put off her duties to herself, her cattle, or her mountain any longer. She had put them off far too long already due to his presence on her property.

  So she forgot to check for the pistol. That was no call for him to worry his handsome little head over it. She had lived on this mountain all her life. Granted, it was a big mistake not to check for the gun. One she would never make again. Everything had worked out fine this time.

  Why should he be mad at her? She was the one in control of her life. She made her own decisions. What kind of point was he trying to make?