by Karen Kirst
“I don’t have any answers. After all, I just learned of our predicament minutes ago. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised. Why is that?”
Long lashes lowered to skim cheeks high in color. “Meredith and Louis shared their concerns with me.”
So Doc and the reverend weren’t the only ones to spot potential problems. Not good. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know? A warning might’ve been nice.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you.” Defensiveness flared. “Anyway, they’re welcome to their opinions. We both know we’re innocent. That’s all that matters.”
Caleb wished he could agree. Indeed, despite her brave words, doubts lurked in the luminous depths. They both knew how small towns operated, how people’s minds worked. In situations like this—a single man and woman sharing a small cabin for nearly a week—the tendency was to assume the worst.
She smoothed copper-streaked strands with unsteady fingers. “I don’t like that look.”
“What look is that?” His brows rose.
“The one where you agree with them.” Pointing a finger at him, she surged to her feet. “I will not marry you.”
“I don’t recall asking,” he drawled, schooling his features to mask the prick of hurt her repeated denials caused.
Her hands went to her hair again, twisting and tugging the mass into a thick roll. His fingers itched to take over the job, certain the strands would feel as satiny as they appeared. Yeah, like I’d ever get the chance.
“I suppose when the reverend comes tomorrow for our answer, we’ll inform him of our decision. That we won’t be pressured into a marriage neither of us want.”
“Sounds reasonable.” The headache bloomed into a full-on assault. He hated that he’d put her in this position. “What happens after I leave, though? Will you be able to ignore the inevitable gossip? What if folks shun you?”
Her chin jutted. “I can handle gossip. While there may be some who will be hateful, my true friends will stand by me.”
His gaze strayed to the bedroom door. Amy hadn’t been happy to be relegated to the room once again. Or had it been the fact she had to resume her schoolwork?
“And what of your sister?” He pitched his voice low. “Kids aren’t always as forgiving or tactful as adults. I don’t want her to be hurt because of something I did.”
He absently rubbed the tiny scars fanning out beside his eye, the sensitive, puckered skin smarting as he did so. If he disappeared into the high country, they’d be left behind to bear the brunt of scandal. He’d escape it all. Something deep inside—his conscience, his sense of honor as a man—balked at the idea. It would be the sawmill accident all over again...others suffering because of his actions.
But what other course did he have?
Becca bit her lip. Clearly she hadn’t considered how the thirteen-year-old would handle the fallout. “She’s been through so much already....” Troubled, she resumed her pacing, though this time her feet seemed weighted, her steps lagging. Finally, she handed him a determined look. “We’ll just have to deal with it the best we can. We don’t have a choice.”
“It seems I owe you yet another apology,” he said quietly, hands fisting on the quilt. “I couldn’t fix things two years ago, and I can’t fix them now. Either way I turn, you’ll be hurt.”
“It’s not like you pointed Rebel in my direction and chose to black out in my backyard,” she conceded.
Now probably wouldn’t be a good time to point out that Rebel knew the way to her farm almost as well as he knew the way home, seeing as how they’d come here time and time again to leave fresh meat.
“I’m sure the gossip will subside after a couple of weeks,” she said. “With you gone on another one of your excursions, folks will forget soon enough. Out of sight, out of mind.”
Ouch. Was that her way of saying he was forgettable?
“You will still be here, however. You and Amy.” He wasn’t convinced the matter would dissipate so easily.
“We’ll deal with it like we’ve dealt with everything else—together and with God’s help.”
There was nothing left to say, was there? If she was comfortable with handling things here without him, then he’d have to go along with it. He only hoped the price Becca paid for helping him wouldn’t prove too high.
* * *
Caleb stirred, confused as to exactly when he’d drifted off to sleep, slowly registering a presence beside the bed. Shifting his head on the pillow, his gaze met a pair of silver eyes that were dark with worry.
He groaned, braced himself for a lecture. “Nathan.”
“I would ask you how you’re feeling, little brother.” He folded his arms across his chest and leveled him a penetrating stare. “But it’s fairly obvious. I’m glad Ma agreed to postpone her visit.” Threading fingers through dark brown hair grown longer than usual, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Louis told me you’d been shot, but I didn’t realize how bad off you were.”
“Doc says I’m on the mend.” Scooting up, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing as pain radiated outward from the bullet hole.
“If that’s the case, I don’t wanna even think about what you must’ve looked like when Rebecca found you.”
Caleb scanned the living and kitchen areas. Judging from the waning light filtering through the curtains, dusk was close at hand. Had he slept through supper? “Where is she?”
“In the barn with Amy.”
He massaged his temples, the headache reemerging as he recalled their predicament and the thorough lack of satisfying resolutions.
“Did she take a gun with her?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. What happened out there, Caleb?”
Nathan listened with grim attention as he relayed the events leading up to his losing consciousness not far from her cabin. “You’ve told Timmons all this, right?”
“He’s gathering up men as we speak. They’re leaving at first light tomorrow morning.” Nathan didn’t need to know about his plan to eventually join the search party. He would only argue against it.
“I wonder if any of Cades Cove’s residents are involved.”
“It’s entirely possible.”
Nathan’s frown deepened. “We need to get a letter to Evan and Juliana.”
Did their cousin and her husband even realize there was trouble? “There’s a chance no one suspects Tate’s missing. He could’ve had business in another town.”
Business that wouldn’t be completed. The image of the young lawman on his knees, head held high and righteous anger burning in his eyes as he faced down death, seized Caleb. Regret clamped like a vise about his lungs. If only he’d devised a better plan, moved faster—
Fingers squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
Caleb’s eyes flew open. Nathan was standing over the bed, face hovering too close. “Yeah, why?”
“You just went two shades whiter than the pillowcase.” His mouth flattened as he pointed to Caleb’s leg. “I wanna see it.”
“And have you keel over like a schoolgirl? There may not be fresh blood, but it ain’t pretty.” His mouth slanted with self-mocking. “One more scar to add to the collection.”
Balancing his weight against the footboard, his older brother studied him. “This couldn’t have been easy for either of you.”
“Understatement of the year.”
“When she answered the door, she looked as if her world had come to an end.”
“That’s because the powers-that-be are pressuring us to marry.”
Nathan’s jaw dropped. “What did you say?”
“Think about it, Nate. I’ve spent a week in her home. She’s dealt with things an unmarried woman oughtn’t. Monroe walking in on her s
having me didn’t help matters.”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Nathan shook his head. He, of all people, understood how this would impact them both. “What are you gonna do?”
“What do you expect me to do? One, I’m not fit for marriage. Two, she hates my guts. I couldn’t force her to wed me even if I wanted to.” When Nathan’s brow twitched, Caleb rushed to add, “Which I don’t.”
“You were close once upon a time. Surely she harbors some tender feelings for you, else she wouldn’t have taken you in.”
“Becca’s not heartless, and you know it. She wouldn’t have left me out there to die.”
“I don’t believe she hates you. She’s still angry, that’s all.”
“It’s more than that. The woman can’t stand the sight of me, Nate.” He sighed. “Help me get home.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I can ride a horse just fine. I’ll rest better in my own bed.”
Not that he planned on doing much of that. He’d give his leg a day or so to rest and then he was going hunting. For two-legged beasts this time. Shane Timmons had promised to put all his energy into finding the perpetrators, and Caleb trusted the no-nonsense lawman to do just that. Still, he had a personal stake in this. It was his hide if Shane and his men failed. Better to hunt than to be hunted. Injury or no, he couldn’t sit around and wait for trouble to come to him.
“I won’t do it.” Of course his brother would be stubborn.
“The longer I stay here, the more damage Becca’s reputation will suffer. Not to mention those thugs could trail me here.”
“What if you leave and they trail you here? What then?”
Caleb fisted his hands. It wasn’t impossible, but the odds were greater if he stuck around.
“You have to give up this irrational notion that you can protect the ones you care about by staying away. I tried my best to keep Sophie safe and look what happened...Landon accosted her. When I was out there in the woods, left to die, I came face-to-face with the truth—I’m not in control. God is.”
“He also gives us free will to make good or bad choices. My life is littered with bad choices. I can’t afford to put anyone else in harm’s way. Look at what happened to Ma.”
“That was not your fault.” Nathan crossed his arms and glared at him. “The storm spooked the horses. If anything, your management of the team prevented her from getting hurt worse.” His stance softened. “You need to pray about this situation with Rebecca.”
He snorted. “God doesn’t wanna hear from me.”
“You’re wrong, brother. He loves you.”
Head pounding and every nerve ending in his leg ablaze with pricks of white-hot heat, Caleb turned his face toward the wall. If he couldn’t convince Nathan to help him, he was finished with this conversation. “Tell Sophie and Will I said hi.”
“Get some rest.” He sighed. “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
“I’m afraid the news of your injury has already traveled through town.”
Reverend Monroe had arrived precisely at ten o’clock, an air of gloom hovering around him and his head-to-toe black suit. Towering beside the bed, he looked expectantly at Caleb. Waiting for him to concede the need for a hasty wedding?
Rebecca shivered as a cold draft slammed against the door. This day—her seventh with Caleb under her roof—had been marked with a low, impenetrable ceiling of gray clouds and blustery winds. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever see the sun again.
The reverend’s apologetic gaze switched to her. “There’s already been talk. At the mercantile, post office. Folks are seeking me out, demanding information. I would like nothing more than to shield you and your sister from unpleasant gossip, but I can’t.”
“It will pass,” Rebecca said.
Of course Caleb, with his honed, hawklike perception, would zone in on the slight crack in her confidence. Anger on their behalf simmered in his hot gaze. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“It’s not just gossip I’m concerned about. There are those who will deliberately cut you and Amy out of their lives. I know you can likely handle such behavior, but what of your sister?” the reverend said gently. “Considering the difficulty she’s had dealing with the unexpected deaths of your parents, I would hate to see her hurt again.”
Shoving out of the chair, Rebecca stalked to the fireplace and stared down into the orange-yellow flames, her back to both men. Doubts pummeled her. While it wouldn’t be pleasant, she was strong enough to withstand being shunned. Amy, on the other hand, was young and impressionable, practical yet in many ways very sensitive. What if the kids at school treated her differently? Already her parents had been ripped from her. School had become a haven, a place of innocence and security and fun. How would Amy cope if that haven became a place of anxiety and unpleasantness?
Lost in what-ifs and distasteful scenarios, she didn’t hear the movement behind her. Suddenly Caleb’s lean, hardened body loomed over her. She couldn’t stop a gasp of surprise.
He was upright. Relying on crutches to support his weight, granted, but upright, making it necessary for her to actually lift her face to meet his eyes. His dark beauty hit her like a tangible force—the sleek black hair and glittering brown eyes set in a carved, pale face like a marble statue—perfect in every way save for the angry red lines fanning from his right eye to his hairline. Deep inside her disillusioned, lonely heart, hunger awakened, a yearning for solace and rest, connection and companionship. For just a little while, how wonderful it would be to let someone else shoulder the burden of running the farm and seeing to Amy’s needs.
Swallowing hard, she stepped back, away from the temptation Caleb unexpectedly presented. He was not the man to offer her any of those things. He’s the enemy, remember?
The hard line of his jaw broadcasting his determination, he gazed down at her like a man minutes from facing a firing squad.
“We need to talk.”
A warning knell reverberated through her system. “No, we don’t.”
He ignored her retort. “Despite all the reasons a marriage between us defies logic...” He paused, braced himself. “I think we should consider it.”
Chapter Ten
Rebecca gaped at him, half tempted to feel his forehead for signs the fever had returned. But the haze of illness no longer clouded his eyes. He was composed, focused. “Have you lost your mind?”
He grimaced, baring even, white teeth. “Apparently so, considering I’ve been asked that question twice in as many days.”
“You can’t be serious.” She glanced past him to the reverend, who had seated himself at the table and was staring into his coffee mug, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Hobbling closer, Caleb leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. “I know how you feel about me. I remind you of everything you’ve lost. And when I look at you...”
Rebecca’s breath stalled. Her heart thumped. Hung suspended. Surged again as his dark gaze roamed her face as if memorizing a map.
“I’m reminded of how greatly I failed my closest friends.” He frowned. “But this doesn’t just involve us. How we handle this will affect Amy for the rest of her life. I’m prepared to do what’s best for her. And for you.”
Her focus riveted to his mouth hovering an inch from her nose, she forgot all about the reverend sitting at her table. The spicy scent of the shaving soap still clung to his skin, scrambling her senses. He sounded so...mature. So unselfish. Nothing like the careless teenager she’d once known.
“I hardly know what to say,” she whispered. “What you’re suggesting is, well, it’s...” Crazy. Deranged. Guaranteed to make them both miserable. “Impossible.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Is there someone else besides Adam you’re set on marrying?”
Out of habit,
she fingered the locket nestled between the buttons of her turquoise cotton blouse. Caleb zeroed in on the movement, and she dropped her hand to her side.
“No, of course not.” Unable to sustain his demanding gaze, she stared into the fire. She’d accepted that marriage was most likely not going to happen for her, had considered moving east to stay with her aunt and uncle once Amy was grown and settled. The sea and its many creatures would make delightful subjects for her paintings.
He dipped his head, bringing their cheeks side by side. “Then why not marry me?”
The movement of his lips near her ear snagged strands of hair. Rebecca stilled, terrified to move, mortified by what his nearness was doing to her equilibrium. “It would be a marriage in name only,” he whispered, his breath fanning across her cheek, “to satisfy the gossips. I spend most of my time in the high country, anyway, which means I wouldn’t even be around to bother you. Your life will go on much the same as it did before. When I’m around, I’ll help out with whatever needs to be done.”
“And what about you?” she murmured, his shirt collar and throat filling her vision. “Don’t you want to wait for a real marriage? One based on love and trust?”
Inching back so that he could meet her gaze, his upper lip curled. He hiked his right shoulder to indicate the scar. “With this mug? I don’t think so. Besides, I’m not looking for love. Too self-absorbed.” The stark loneliness warring with self-derision in the brown depths cut through her defenses.
“Why would you do this?” She stared deep into his eyes.
His throat worked. “I’ve let you down in the past. Multiple times. It’s my fault we’re in this mess, and I want to make it right. Fix it for you the only way I know how.”
“You’d be miserable.”
“So would you,” he shot back. “But Amy wouldn’t be, would she?”
She closed her eyes. A lifetime with Caleb wasn’t a dream come true. More like a nightmare from which she’d never wake. “I can’t.”
“I warned them that would be your response.”