Vestige of Courage

by Sara Blackard

  He stared at her ahead of him. The breeze teased the hair of her ponytail. He had never been envious of wind before. He scoffed at himself. There was no helping it. She lured all of him to her. He was well and truly caught.

  Chase wasn’t really sure how to take Beatrice’s reaction to the doctor’s phone call. Shoot, he didn’t know what to make of his reaction either. All week he’d been hoping and praying for a negative result. He and Beatrice could move on, and he could try and forget Samantha ever existed. Yet, when the call came through, he’d balked at the emptiness that not being Evangeline’s father brought.

  He thought about Beatrice’s desire to be Samantha’s friend. As much as he wanted to protest and hold on to the hurt and shame he’d been so accustomed to, they simply weren’t there. He lifted his eyes to the bright blue sky and thanked God again for the forgiveness coursing through him where hurt and hate once lived. Forgiveness for Samantha. Forgiveness for himself.

  Beatrice pulled Storm to a stop at the edge of an aspen grove and motioned Chase up next to her. He moved up, leading his horse as close to hers as he could. She glanced at their legs that practically touched, then lifted her beautiful green eyes to him. They held a sparkle of amusement which pulled his mouth up at the corner. He stifled the smile and attempted to appear serious.

  “So, Mighty Huntress, what now?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Now, we take a hike. The turkeys won’t stick around with the horses stomping close.”

  After dismounting and tying their horses to the trees, he followed her through the woods, attempting to mimic everything she did. He’d been following her a lot today. Normally that would bother him. He’d always been the one wanting to blaze the trail, push the limits. Yet, he realized when it came to Beatrice, he’d let her lead wherever she wanted to take him, be it hunting or into forever.

  An odd barking noise startled him from his thoughts. Beatrice froze, so he slinked up next to her.

  Wanting an excuse to get close, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “What is that?”

  She shivered but kept her focus on the woods. “Turkey.” Her short answer was almost inaudible.

  He inhaled, breathing in the mix of her peppermint shampoo and fallen leaves. “Is it close?”

  She turned her head, one adorable eyebrow quirked upward. “Too close.” Her restrained smile begged him to kiss it.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It is if you keep yammering.” She peeked at his lips then turned toward the ruckus up ahead.

  Chase chuckled as Beatrice eased forward. He quickly covered his mouth when she threw a glare over her shoulder. Hunting proved more entertaining than he thought it would be.

  She crouched behind a copse of aspen. He knelt next to her, searching for the turkey gobbling somewhere ahead. He turned slightly so he could watch her while pretending to find the animal. She peered through the bright orange bushes clumped under the golden aspen, her gaze focused. The way her head tilted slightly to the side and her nostrils flared, Chase wondered if all her senses were engaged in tracking her prey. Incredible.

  He remembered hunting as a teen with his dad, and those trips were nothing like this. He, his dad, and Hunter would find a high spot to sit overlooking a mountain meadow and wait for what seemed like hours for the deer or elk to meander in. While Hunter and his dad had loved it, talking throughout the year about how to make the hunt better the next fall, Chase had found it agonizingly boring. The long stretch of hours sitting and waiting had made his skin itch and his mind numb.

  Beatrice’s type of hunting was different. She didn’t just wait on the hill, an outsider intruding on the wilderness. She became one with her surroundings, fully embracing the forest around her. She pivoted a couple of inches to her right, and her scrunched forehead smoothed. Her arm slowly raised, bringing her bow up to point through the trees. He couldn’t remember when she’d nocked the arrow, but there it sat, resting on her hand.

  Chase leaned closer, wanting to see what she had found. He placed his hand on the fallen leaves, squinting through the leaves and finding nothing. He slanted nearer, his knee crunching on a twig with a snap. The sudden appearance of a turkey head on the other side of the bush and the whoosh and twang of an arrow flying startled him. His hand slipped on the damp leaves, and he tumbled into Beatrice. He twisted as best he could, and they landed with a thump. Beatrice’s head lay on his arm, her eyes wide. At least he hadn’t landed on her.

  Beatrice snorted a stifled laugh. They both burst out laughing so hard his side hurt. She flopped onto her back and stared up through the trees, her head resting on his forearm. She wiped the tears tracing down her pink cheeks and into her hair as she chuckled. His pulse pounded in his throat.

  “I’m sorry I ruined your shot.” His voice came out a husky whisper.

  She turned her head, a soft expression on her face. “You didn’t.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow and skimmed his fingertips over her jawline. “No?”

  She licked her lips and minutely shook her head. Her hand came up and palmed his chest. He braced himself for the disappointment of being pushed away, wondering if he had the strength to let her be. His fingers stroked her jaw one more time, his gaze connecting with hers.

  “Chase?”

  The hesitance in her voice had him moving back. He wouldn’t rush her, despite his desire to draw her close. Her needs meant more to him than his wants.

  Her sucked-in breath came a second before her fingers fisted his shirt and pulled him close. She met his lips with an intensity that matched his own. How could his heart not explode when everything he ever desired lay cradled beneath him in the golden bed of leaves? She tasted so sweet he swore her lips still held a hint of syrup. He trailed kisses up her jaw and kissed behind her ear. Her breathing increased with his own.

  “Beatrice,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Hmm?” She kissed his throat where his pulse pounded violently.

  He moaned and pushed up onto his elbow. He needed to stop, be the man God wanted him to be. She stared at his mouth, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. He closed his eyes against the tempting sight and inhaled deeply.

  “Beatrice, everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I never knew I needed is wrapped up in you.” Her eyes met his as she gasped. “I was stuck, lost in the vast wilderness of my solitude, not knowing which way to go. Then God plopped you right down in front of me. The world is now bursting with color, and I’m not lost anymore.”

  Beatrice’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She was so beautiful with her crown of aspen leaves and enchanting green eyes that called to him. A tear escaped, and Chase leaned down to capture it with a kiss.

  “I don’t want to half live my life anymore. I want to embrace all it has to offer, experience every adventure and heartache with you.” He kissed her softly on her trembling lips. “Beatrice Thomas, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked. “Yes!” She threw arms around him and kissed him deeply.

  Chase pulled her up from the ground and kissed her softly one last time. She smiled shyly up to him as he picked leaves from her hair. Man, how could this amazing woman have just agreed to marry him? He shook his head in awe, bending down to pick up her bow and arrows that he’d caused her to drop.

  She took the weapon from him and rubbed her hand along the wood. “Chase?”

  “Yeah?”

  She peered up at him and exhaled a shaky breath. “This is going to sound terribly forward of me, but, well … do you think we can marry soon?”

  “We can marry as soon as you want. I don’t think we can get to town in time today, but first thing Monday morning, we can go to the county office and get what we need. There might be a waiting period. I’ve never really researched it before.” He was thankful he wouldn’t have to wait long.

  “Good, then maybe I can get a good night’s sleep.” She beamed a smile up at him. “I don’t sleep well wi
th you not in the house.”

  Chase threw his head back and laughed. That explained her scent in his room. He threaded her fingers through his and pulled her toward where the turkey had been. A sense of excitement filled him, pushing him into action. He couldn’t wait to get back to the ranch and figure out what it was going to take to make the most intriguing woman alive his wife.

  Chapter 22

  Hey, man. It’s January 1, 1900. Hard to believe that I’ve been here almost twenty-three years and that I’ll be born in ninety years. Not sure how many people can say something like that. I wonder sometimes how many other people God has moved through time like he has me, Samara, and Beatrice. We can’t be the only ones, can we? Maybe the others were as hesitant to proclaim the miracle as much as I was. Anyway, I’m excited and a bit anxious about all this country is going to go through, all our children and grandchildren will experience in the next hundred years. There’s so much violence and famine about to happen that I often wonder if I might convince them to sequester themselves up on the mountain with me and Viola. But I also know that through all of that, God provides hope and balance. So many amazing things are about to happen that I can’t be worried too much about the negative. Happy New Year, bud, from 1900.

  Chase’s huge grin hadn’t left his face on the long ride home or while they butchered the turkey. It stayed plastered there as he and Beatrice researched what they’d have to do to get married, which ended up being surprisingly easy. Thank you, Colorado. His smile might’ve leaned a bit on the smug side when they had called Zeke to invite him to their wedding on Monday. His cheeks had hurt when they found out Verne was a bonafide pastor and could marry them. He fell asleep with his mouth turned up and woke up with it so. Thank you, Lord. He had probably prayed that a thousand times since Beatrice had said yes.

  He buttoned his sleeve cuff as he left his room in the bunkhouse, his mouth pulling down for the first time since yesterday morning. He glanced at Eddie’s closed bedroom door, his stomach turning sour. Chase couldn’t put off letting Eddie go any longer.

  Chase marched to Eddie’s door, intent on getting this chore done. He’d never laid off anyone before but figured getting it over fast like ripping off a Band-Aid was better than stewing over it all day. Besides, Eddie needed time to figure out what he would do next. He could stay on the ranch for a couple of weeks, but then he’d have to move on.

  When Chase knocked on Eddie’s bedroom door, it swung open. “Eddie? You in here?”

  Chase stepped in and glanced around. The room was tidy, with nothing personal but a notebook or journal sitting on the desk pushed under the window. Chase heard a screen door snap, and he crossed the room to peek out the window. Beatrice stood in a T-shirt and sweats at the railing of her bedroom balcony and shook out a rug before turning back inside.

  Though her curtains were drawn, the thin fabric hid nothing as she moved around her bedroom. He didn’t like the fact that someone could sit here and watch everything she did. She pulled her top off, and he averted his eyes quickly. He’d be buying new curtains for all the bedroom windows next time he went to town.

  His gaze landed on a picture poking out of a journal that bulged with papers. He pulled the picture out, and his gut tightened as all the air rushed out of his lungs. Beatrice laughed up at him from the paper, her eyes twinkling in mischief. He flipped the journal open. His mouth went dry as he flipped backwards through photo after photo of Beatrice.

  Chase went lightheaded when the woman changed from Beatrice to Samara McKenna. He’d helped search for her when she came up missing a few months back. He swallowed vomit that pushed up his throat when he flipped to a page that held a lock of auburn hair tucked in the fold of the journal. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. He had to call the authorities. Maybe he could ask Eddie to come down and get supplies with him but somehow get Eddie to the cops. Whatever Chase figured out, he had to do it now. He wasn’t going to allow Eddie to be near Beatrice one second longer.

  “You know, it’s not polite to snoop through peoples’ belongings.”

  The calm tone of Eddie’s voice just feet away turned Chase from the desk. Sharp pain exploded into his head, and everything went black.

  Chase hadn’t shown up yet to make breakfast, so Beatrice decided to read another letter from her chest. She had rushed through them at first, devouring every tidbit of information her family had left her. When she had realized she was almost to the bottom of the pile, she’d rationed the remaining letters out only allowing herself a letter a day. She knew she’d probably spend her lifetime rereading every one but wanted to stretch the initial experience out a bit longer.

  Beatrice grabbed the next one from the top of the pile she’d stacked on her nightstand and smiled at the handwriting. She hadn’t read many from Samara, but the ones Beatrice had read had filled her with laughter as Samara related different experiences she had while adjusting to traveling back in time. Beatrice wished she could share with Samara her own struggles, giggling through the night like they had the one and only week Beatrice had spent with her sister-in-law.

  She sat on the edge of her bed and opened the envelope. Though the envelope was thick, the letter wasn’t long. She sighed in disappointment. Samara wrote about the man Harry, who had attacked her, and how he had killed other women before. Samara wasn’t sure if Beatrice would land in the right time frame to help, but she had wanted to leave Beatrice with enough information that maybe would help in capturing Harry.

  She laid the letter on the bed and stared in awe at the drawing Samara had folded in with the letter. She knew Samara loved to draw. Her art supplies were something Samara had missed most. Beatrice didn’t know Samara had such talent.

  The detail in the drawing of a man was incredible, like she could reach out and touch skin and hair rather than paper. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion and flipped to a second drawing that showed the man from a different angle. When she turned to a third drawing, the papers slipped from her fingers as recognition settled over her.

  She stood on shaky legs, spots swimming in her vision. She had to get to Chase now. He was not going to be happy that he’d been harboring a murderer. She crossed her room to her bow and arrows. After belting the quiver on and slinging the bow over her back, she checked the load on her handgun and slid it back into her holster. She smiled as the action of gearing up reminded her of home. Finally there was something she could excel in, apprehending no-good polecats.

  After rushing down the stairs, she paused at the front door, her hands shaking like the leaves barely hanging on the trees. “Bea, just stay calm. This isn’t like last time. You probably won’t even need your weapons. Eddie, or Harry, whoever he is, doesn’t suspect you know.”

  She took a deep breath, determined not to act any differently and have Eddie running for the hills. She could track him, of course, but it’d be an awful inconvenience. She rolled her shoulders and neck and marched outside.

  She headed across the yard toward the bunkhouse but stopped short when she heard a low moan. She pulled her gun out of its holster and tipped her head to listen. The chickens squawked and pecked around the yard. A gust of wind blew leaves that clattered and tumbled on the hard-packed dirt. A whine and soft yip floated on the air with the leaves.

  Beatrice rushed toward the muffled sound. She flattened her back to the barn wall and inhaled to slow her racing heart. Leaning sideways, she peeked around the corner. With a gasp, she sped to Verne, who lay crumpled on the ground. Blue lay beside him, whining.

  “Verne, you okay?” She knelt beside him, scanning the area.

  Verne rolled onto his side with a groan. Blood and dirt were smeared across his face and caked into his gray mustache. He lifted his hand to his temple and flinched. Blue crawled forward and licked the old man’s hand.

  “I’m all right, buddy.” Verne petted Blue on the head.

  “What happened?” She bent to examine the gash. It was deep with a large bump forming, but didn’t look serious.
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  “That sidewinder got the drop on me.” He swatted her hand away and pushed to sit up.

  “What?” She helped him scoot up against the side of the barn.

  “Eddie. He was strapping Chase down to the back of the four-wheeler when I came around the corner. Eddie rounded on me with something.” Verne gingerly touched his head and huffed. “Cleaned my plow good.”

  “I have to go after Eddie. He’s the one who attacked Samara.”

  “Alright. Let’s go saddle up.” He pushed against the barn wall to stand up, only to slide back down.

  “Verne, you’re not riding in your condition. Let’s get you to the house, and you can call the Marshalls.”

  He waved her off. “Girl, I can get myself to the house. You need to go after them. Take the other wheeler.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how to drive that contraption, and even if I did, Eddie would hear me coming for miles. I’m taking Storm.” She helped Verne stand. “Is there anything I can use to mark my trail so you can send the cavalry my way?”

  “Yeah, I have a couple of cans of spray paint we use for surveying that will work perfectly.” He pushed off of the wall, weaved a bit, then sauntered around the front of the barn.

  Beatrice shook her head and smiled. Verne was just like his great-grandfather, a man one could depend on. Her father would say Verne had the hair of the bear. He would know who to call to get help. She slowed. Maybe she should wait. Maybe she shouldn’t rush off like she always did. Lord knew she was often too quick at jumping into action, pushing when she should hold. The guilt of William’s death pressed heavy on her, stifling her breath. What if she couldn’t do what needed done?