by Karen Kirst
* * *
“What did I interrupt?” Meredith demanded, shrugging out of her cape and gloves and hanging them on the coatrack.
“Nothing that can’t wait.” Rebecca pulled down a tin of tea and a teapot dotted with roses. She needed to focus on something other than her still-tingling fingers, hardly able to fathom she’d allowed herself to touch his scar. Even more shocking, Adam hadn’t once crossed her mind. Nor had the accident. “How was your Christmas?”
Unwinding the bright red scarf from around her neck, Meredith draped it across the dining chair and folded her arms. “I don’t want to discuss my holiday. I’d much rather talk about what’s going on with you and Caleb.”
“It’s complicated,” she hedged, tossing kindling in the firebox and filling the kettle with water. While she wasn’t averse to confiding in her friend, she hardly knew how to sort through her jumble of emotions.
“Something has changed. I could see it in the way you looked at each other. More specifically, how you looked at him. Am I right?”
“Spending time with him has opened my eyes to some things I hadn’t wanted to face...like how wrong I was to blame him for what happened. He didn’t intentionally hurt Adam. Yes, they shouldn’t have been there, but it was an unfortunate accident.”
Meredith gaped at her. “Did you tell him this? What did he say?”
“He’s finding it difficult to accept my forgiveness. Not surprising considering how I’ve treated him.”
Coming around the table, Meredith hugged her. “That couldn’t have been easy. I’m proud of you.” She stepped back. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, though. Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“What is it?”
“In all this time, not once have I heard you express anger at Adam. Yes, it was Caleb’s idea to break into the lumberyard, but Adam chose to break off your engagement. He chose to leave town. He chose not to respond to your letters. Why aren’t you angry with him?”
Rebecca grasped the counter behind her for support. The blunt words worked their way into the dark caverns of her soul, exposing buried truths she’d been too much of a coward to confront.
Meredith’s forehead creased. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No.” Eyes closed, she shook her head. “Y-you’re right. I just didn’t want to accept the truth.” She forced herself to meet her concerned gaze. “After we found out that he was confined to the wheelchair, I tried to convince him nothing had changed. That I still loved him and wanted more than anything to marry him. It wasn’t enough. Adam rejected me.”
“He could’ve made a different choice,” she agreed sadly.
“He could’ve chosen to stay and fight for us. That he didn’t tells me he didn’t love me like I loved him.” She pressed trembling fingers to her temples. “By funneling all of my anger onto Caleb, I managed to avoid dealing with the hurt Adam’s rejection inflicted.”
She’d been so unfair to Caleb.
“Do you love him?”
“Caleb? Of course not!”
Dark brows winged up. “I meant Adam.”
“Oh. Right. Of course you meant Adam.” She toyed with the locket. “A part of me will always care for him.”
“Rebecca, are you developing feelings for Caleb? Because I don’t think that would necessarily be a bad thing.”
“You don’t?”
“He is your husband. Like it or not, you’re stuck with him.”
“All I want is for us to be friends.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
Was she that transparent? “He’s unpredictable. Reckless.” Removing the whistling kettle from the stove, she poured water into the teacups, ignoring the inner voice insisting he’d changed. Grown up. Matured.
“Unpredictability keeps things interesting. Besides, I don’t see him dashing off in search of those gang members. He’s sticking close in order to protect you. That’s not reckless. That’s noble.”
“He’s a rolling stone, Mer. He’s not interested in sticking around.”
“I disagree.” She followed her to the table. “He stayed away all this time because of the accident. I think he’d jump at the chance to stay here with you.”
“You’re wrong.”
She had to be. Rebecca couldn’t go wishing for something that would only hurt her in the end. The more time she spent in his company, the more her admiration flourished and her heart, her foolhardy, susceptible heart, yearned for a deeper connection. With him. Only him.
Caleb wouldn’t hurt her intentionally. But he wasn’t steadfast or dependable, he didn’t always do the right thing, the expected thing, and she couldn’t give her heart to a man who was determined to leave her.
* * *
“I want to go to the mercantile.”
Caleb’s fork hovered midair, the sorghum molasses dripping from the bite of flapjack onto the plate below. Concern darkened his eyes. “How about you jot down a list and I’ll give it to Pa or Josh. They’d be happy to go for you.”
While Rebecca understood the need to exercise caution, she would not be consigned to this farm indefinitely. “There are items of an intimate nature on my list, so what you suggest is impossible. I want to go.”
“It’s too dangerous. You remember what Shane said, don’t you?”
Not long after Meredith and her parents had left yesterday morning, the sheriff had ridden over to update them on the latest. “Yes. There’ve been no reports of Samantha or Wendell in the area.”
“Just because there’ve been no reports doesn’t mean they aren’t lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.”
In her lap, she scrunched the cloth napkin into a tight ball. “Caleb, I like this cabin, but I’m desperate for a change of scenery. Please. I’m not suggesting we roam up and down Main Street. I just want to do a little shopping.”
A funny look on his face, he lowered the fork. “You like this cabin?”
That’s what he’d focused on? With a sigh, she observed the spindly tree he’d found in the woods nearby, the festive greenery he’d placed around the room in an effort to cheer her, the view of his family’s farm she’d grown accustomed to. His cabin was smaller than hers. It lacked personality. And yet, she felt perfectly at home here. Dare she say content?
Her gaze swiveled to Caleb’s familiar face and it hit her. The reason she felt this way wasn’t because of the cabin itself, but because of him. This was their first home together. Temporary, but theirs. Just him and her. As crazy as it sounded, she actually slept better knowing he was in the next room, his continued presence reassuring. She’d grown to anticipate their morning ritual—somehow he managed to wake before her and would greet her with coffee and that lopsided smile that made her heart dance with joy.
She cleared her throat, attempted to make light of her words. “I do. It’s...charming. It’s nothing like my home, though.”
“No. Of course it isn’t.” He nodded and lowered his gaze.
Feeling horrible but determined to hold her heart aloof, she said, “Back to the issue at hand. Am I going to town alone or are you going with me?”
“You’re determined to have your way despite the danger.”
“I will not have my father-in-law purchasing unmentionables for me.” She shuddered at the thought.
Caleb sighed. “All right, but we do it my way. We park in the rear and use the storage room entrance. You get what you need. No dillydallying.”
“Agreed.”
He tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll hitch up the wagon.”
On impulse, Rebecca reached out and squeezed his fingers. The cool metal of his gold ring bit into her palm. “Thank you.”
“Thank me when we return safely,” he shot back.
He abruptly wi
thdrew his hand. When he left the table, cold loss swept over her. Watching Caleb’s brothers and their wives, as well as Megan and Lucian on Christmas Day, had filled her with a disturbing ache and the dangerous wish for a loving, trusting relationship with her husband.
Not possible, Rebecca.
“I’ll be ready.” Shoving her tumultuous feelings into a box and securing the lock, she gathered up the dishes, deliberately not looking his direction.
He left without another word. Within half an hour, they were riding along the forest-edged lane that led to town. Caleb sat rigid and silent on the wagon seat, his gaze constantly on the move, alert for hidden dangers. Rebecca tried to relax and enjoy the outing. It wasn’t easy. Not when memories of Wendell slid through her mind, raising doubts and niggling guilt for pushing Caleb into giving her her way.
By the time they stood ringing the bell on Clawson’s service entrance, she was as rigid as he was, spying potential danger in every corner and behind every tree. When he placed a light hand on her lower back, she jumped.
His lips compressed. “Becca—”
Emmett Moore appeared then and welcomed them inside, seemingly unconcerned that they didn’t have a delivery.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Caleb began, “but we thought it best to come this way.”
“Sheriff warned me about the gang.” He led them past storage shelving and the office. “Worrisome business. Haven’t had any strangers in here lately, thank the Lord. I’ve kept my eyes open.”
“We won’t be long.” Caleb shot her a warning glance as they skirted the long, wooden counters and approached the aisles.
Seeing his cousin tidying bolts of fabric, she told him, “I’ll be over there with Nicole.”
His gaze following hers to the far wall, he reluctantly nodded and pointed to the plate-glass window overlooking Main Street. Dressed in head-to-toe black, his scar giving him an edge, he looked fierce. Menacing. Twin Colts gleamed on his lean hips. “I’ll keep watch.”
Hurrying along, she noticed the other patrons’ appraisals hadn’t ceased with her marriage. Would their interest, their judgment, ever wane?
Nicole looked surprised to see her. “Rebecca.”
“Good morning. Thank you again for the dress.” Immediately following supper on Christmas Day, Nicole and her sisters had called her upstairs to present the dress.
“Have you modeled it for Caleb yet?”
“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” She wasn’t prepared to endure his close inspection. Her stomach fluttered just thinking about it. “Could you point me to the undergarments?”
“Certainly.” Nicole swept farther down the aisle, boots peeking from beneath her ruffled rose-hued skirts.
When Rebecca had made her choice, she thanked the younger girl and made her way to the counter. Caleb appeared at her side, insistent on paying for her purchase. Causing a scene was out of the question, so she waited until they reached the back stairs to vent her opinion.
“I can afford to pay for my own necessities.” Barely, but he didn’t have to know that.
His chin jutted, the brewing storm in his eyes indicative of his lingering ill-humor. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.” She refused to be a burden. Not when he hadn’t willingly taken her and Amy on.
“I’m your husband,” he stated plainly, as if that fact alone justified everything.
Is this the attitude of an irresponsible man? a small voice prodded.
“Rebecca.” His fingers clamped down on her wrist, and he tugged her close.
Caught off guard, she braced herself with a hand against his chest. “What—”
“Shh.” Beneath his hat’s brim, his gaze was locked on something behind her. The storm in those brown eyes was fully unleashed now. Tension locked his jaw, stiffened his shoulders. Something was very wrong. Approaching voices registered on the road at the bottom of the stairs. Several males. One female.
Her stomach plummeted. “That sounds like Samantha—”
Caleb didn’t speak. He acted. Deftly switching positions so that his back was to the road, he brought his mouth down on hers.
Chapter Twenty-One
His lips were fire and heat, driving the threat of danger to the edge of conscious thought. Rebecca understood what this was—a desperate ploy to remain unrecognized—and yet, with his big body sheltering her and his hands heavy, even possessive, on her waist, she struggled to remember that. Heady emotion flooded her soul. Caleb’s kiss made her feel reckless, coaxed her to abandon caution and give this marriage a chance. Give them a chance.
She slung an arm about his neck, angling closer, seeking his strength and reassurance. The embrace altered almost imperceptibly. He was holding her as if it would kill him to let her go.
It was in that moment she comprehended how much he’d come to mean to her. Despite everything that had passed between them, the old anger and misplaced blame, Caleb had become necessary. Essential to her happiness.
An act of pure folly on her part, because he would ultimately leave her.
Rebecca wasn’t certain how many minutes had passed when he lifted his head, hooded gaze burning into her. Neither of them moved. The air pulsed with energy and unspoken questions. When the silence at last registered, Rebecca risked a glance around. The lane behind the businesses stood empty.
“We’re alone.” Caleb reached up and, gently dislodging her arm, put distance between them.
Disappointment squeezing her chest, she shoved out, “Did you get a good look at them?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It was her. I didn’t recognize her at first because she’s chopped off all her hair.” Ignoring Rebecca’s gasp, he seized her arm and urged her down the stairs. “She had four men with her. Too many to confront without putting you at risk.”
Recognizing the determined jut of his chin, she asked, “What are you going to do?”
Handing her up into the wagon, he hurried to the other side and hauled himself up. “I’m gonna get you home. Then I’ll come back and search for them.”
Fear lodged in her throat. “Alone?”
He released the brake. “I’ll alert Timmons.”
Arms hugging her midsection as the wind rushed past her face, she felt colder than she’d ever felt before. When they reached the wooden bridge above Little Pigeon River, she twisted to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“It’s my fault we were almost discovered. If I hadn’t pressured you...”
“None of this is your fault.” He shot her a fierce look. “You were right. I couldn’t keep you prisoner. Besides, we have them in our sights now. We’ll get them this time.”
“I wish you would leave the search to Timmons and his men.”
His gaze fell on the gold band circling her left finger. “They made it personal when they involved you. With my family to keep you safe, I won’t have to worry.”
“What about your leg?”
“Doc cleared me to ride, remember?”
Since he clearly wouldn’t be dissuaded from his course, Rebecca prayed. Begged, in fact, for God to protect her husband and bring him home safe.
* * *
They searched for three days. Seemed as if they were traveling in ever-widening circles about Gatlinburg, each passing hour without results intensifying Caleb’s frustration.
“Something’s not right.” Sitting tall in the saddle, craggy profile washed in moonlight, the sheriff huffed an aggravated sigh. “We should’ve picked up their trail by now.”
“We can’t stop.” Didn’t matter that his leg was one throbbing mass of quivering flesh. Didn’t matter that he was distracted by thoughts of Becca and their life-altering kiss. Finding Samantha and her gang was paramount.
/> “I think they have someone helping them. Someone in town who’s giving them shelter.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Could be one of them has relatives in these parts. Or friends.”
“Or they could be threatening someone to hide them.” Caleb’s lip curled in disgust. God, please, lead us to them. I know I don’t deserve Your help, but my family won’t be safe until these murderers are behind bars. No one in this town will be safe. And Tate’s family deserves to see justice served.
“Let’s head back. We’re low on supplies, and you could use some time out of the saddle.” Timmons nudged his mount into motion.
Caleb reluctantly followed suit, Rebel’s hulking form blending with the dense shadows. “What if they slip through our fingers? What then?”
“I understand your frustration, O’Malley, but staying out here any longer is pointless. Once we get to town, I’m gonna do a little digging. See if I can learn of anyone who’s currently entertaining guests.”
“Need any help with that?” His breath puffed white in the frigid temperatures.
“No.” Blue eyes flashed in his direction. “You’re gonna stay out of sight.” He smiled. “Spend some time with your new wife.”
Becca’s image cemented itself in his mind and refused to budge. Now that his horse was headed toward home, he allowed himself to anticipate their reunion. Would she be angry over his prolonged absence? Worried? She’d been quiet and subdued as he’d packed his gear. Definitely concerned for his safety, which made his chest tighten up. How deep did his wife’s feelings go? For the millionth time, he rehashed every second of that spontaneous kiss.
He’d done it to mask their identity. The outlaws hadn’t gotten close enough to get a good look at either of them. Their position on the top of the stairs helped. He’d counted on Samantha and her gang trying to avoid attracting attention to themselves and moving quickly through town.
But the instant their lips met, everything save for the woman in his arms melted away. Danger was passing within feet of them and still he’d been flung into another world, one where he and Becca were meant for each other, where he was the type of man she’d choose if given the chance. Fantasy. Pure fantasy, O’Malley.