Her Dearly Unintended

by Regina Jennings

  Ma and Pa needed to come home. Mr. Silas needed to leave. Josiah needed . . . well, Katie Ellen wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with him. There was a time when she would’ve given every invention in her tree house to spend two whole days in his company, but the fear was too great. Not fear of Silas, but fear that Josiah would realize his power over her. Fear that she would lose control.

  She wiped the mud off her face with the wet sleeve of her coat. She didn’t intend to leave with Josiah, but what would she do if he refused to stay? Yet even as she asked herself that question, she realized that truthfully it wasn’t possible that he would leave her. For all Josiah’s wild tendencies, he wouldn’t leave a lady in need.

  He’d leave a lady embarrassed, frustrated, and angry, but not in danger. And maybe it was time for her to be impulsive. Maybe she should challenge Silas. See what he was up to.

  “Josiah, this man has no reason to hurt us. He’s frustrating, but besides the broken window . . .”

  Josiah wrinkled his nose. His nostrils twitched like he was fixing to sneeze, but instead he looked over his shoulder toward the house. Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he took off like a jackrabbit.

  She watched him run. Water splashed with each stride through the standing puddles. There he went, dashing off right in the middle of her sentence. He had no more manners than—

  She watched as Josiah reached the house and immediately threw open the front door—and then she saw the reason for his hurry. Katie Ellen rose off her knees and darted toward the house, splashing through the selfsame puddles that Josiah had parted. Until Josiah opened the door, everything had looked fine. But now she saw the thin gray smoke hugging the top of the doorframe and seeping betwixt the boards on the broken window.

  She snatched the fire bucket on her way across the porch, and pain ripped up her arm. The wet sand weighed twice its usual and was topped to the brim with rainwater. Holding the handle with both hands she entered her home and nearly fainted. Smoke billowed from her solid-oak-framed sofa. Scorched springs waved through where the crush plush upholstery had been stretched across the frame. Now it was eaten away like the meat from a half-gnawed chicken leg, leaving sinew and bones, and beneath that lay the remains of her grandmother’s quilt.

  And there through the smoke she saw Josiah tossing a whole bucket of water on it. No, not water. The flames sizzled and filled the room with the scent of scorched milk.

  “What are you doing?” She blinked back tears from her stinging eyes.

  He pulled the bucket out of her hand and shoved the empty one into her chest. “I didn’t have time to pump water. Thought milk would work just as well. Now go get that thing refilled.”

  Once again he’d caught her on her heels while he saved the day. He swung the fire bucket in a clumsy arch. The wet sand only fell out with a plop on the arm of the sofa. Trying not to inhale the smoke, Katie Ellen propelled herself to the kitchen and filled the buckets as he brought them to her. The hiss of steam combined with the splat of water helped her keep track of how many bucketfuls Josiah tossed on her floor. She couldn’t wait to get to her mop.

  “It’s out!” he called.

  Grabbing the mop, she ran into the living room, arriving just as Silas stepped inside.

  “What do we have here?” He swayed on his bowed legs and fanned the smoke from his face.

  Josiah spun around, coming nose to nose with the man. “Thought you’d burn the house down? Is that the trick? After Miss Katie Ellen’s been so hospitable to you?”

  Silas threw up his hands, keeping Josiah at bay. “I didn’t set fire to nothing. I just walked outside to take a look at the river. See if it’d come down any.”

  “Biggest flood of my life and you expect me to believe the sofa just burst into flames of its own accord?” The veins in Josiah’s neck showed up blue and angry, giving Katie Ellen a new appreciation for his temper.

  Even Silas was cowed. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to doze off, but when I woke I decided to go out . . .” His eyes roved to the smoldering heap. “The pipe,” he said. “I must’ve dropped it in the quilt.”

  The pipe. Another casualty of this awful ordeal. Before she could take after the mess with her mop, Josiah spoke up.

  “We’re leaving,” he said.

  Katie Ellen marched right up to him. “No, we’re not. We can’t leave him here by himself.”

  “You’re staying here,” Josiah said. “I’m taking Silas down the hill.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry about your purty sofa,” Silas said. “I surely didn’t intend on burning it up, but I really don’t want to go down that bluff. It ain’t safe.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Josiah. “Get your coat. Get your boots.”

  He hung his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt nothing.”

  Ignoring Silas, Josiah said, “Katie Ellen, I’d like a word with you.”

  The skin on her arms puckered. “You can’t leave me—”

  “In the bedroom.” Josiah stomped through the pool of water on the floor and flung the bedroom door open. “Wife. Now.”

  It’d take a full regiment of soldiers to move her . . . or the memory of Josiah slinging her over his shoulder the night before. With an embarrassing lack of grace, she sulked past him, wondering at how he’d managed to take control of her out-of-control situation.

  She winced as the door slammed shut, but his voice was surprisingly tender considering his performance. “I’ve got to do something, Katie Ellen. He nearly burned the house down around us. Do you think that was an accident?”

  “He does seem prone to destruction.”

  The limbs of the oak tree swished against the roof as the winds pushed them here and there. She wanted Silas to leave, didn’t she? Look how much trouble he’d caused. Yet she was loath to see this time with Josiah end. She turned, and he was closer than she thought, gazing at her. No other way to describe it, but his earnest expression narrowed under her scrutiny.

  “Go on and say it,” he murmured. “I know you’re gonna.”

  “What if he comes back? What if I’m here all alone and he doubles back without you? Then I’d be left—”

  As if mesmerized, he lifted his index finger and touched her lips. Startled, she swatted his hand down. “Don’t shush me, Josiah Huckabee. I have an opinion, too.”

  “As everyone from here to Pine Gap is well aware.” He spoke slowly but with an intensity that evidenced the emotion he was holding back. “If something were to happen to me and he comes back alone, then he’s truly a man to fear. Lock up the house, get the fireplace poker, the kitchen knife, or something, and hide under the bed.”

  “Under the bed? What good would that do? I’d rather—”

  “You wanna know what I’d rather do?” A force was building up in him, plain as day. And Josiah had never been one to hold back for long.

  She made to bolt, but he caught her around the waist and with a spin, brought her around to face him. Katie Ellen had been here before. The racing heart, the fluttering in her stomach, the spinning earth—but she was wiser this time. She knew the pain that would follow if she gave him her heart.

  But instead of stealing a kiss, he caught her hand and held it against his face. How could his cheek in her palm warm her heart thus? And this time he didn’t look frightened by what he was planning—only intent. “I don’t want to leave. For a million reasons, I’d rather stay right here, but I’m going to take care of you, and that means doing this one thing first.”

  But she didn’t want him to go. “If you leave, I’ll tell your folks that you ran away and forgot all about me. They’ll believe me, because it’s just what you did last time.”

  “Is that what happened? I forgot you?” He smiled, his dimple forming beneath her palm. He was teasing her, but she was right, wasn’t she? As usual?

  Katie Ellen chilled as his hand tightened on her back. Josiah, the man who lived by the seat of his pants, had already planned what he was going to do. He bent toward
her and, contrary to all she’d resolved, she didn’t run. He was so near. The cleft in his chin, the flecks of hazel in his brown eyes. Her hand slid from his cheek to his hair, still wet, and then his lips covered hers. At the first touch she was dragged under surer than if she’d plunged into the swollen river outside. He smelled of woodsmoke, rain, and her own cooking—everything familiar but terrifyingly foreign at the same time. One hand spread flat against his chest felt the solid goodness of him. No longer her playmate of years gone by, he was a man with a man’s power and a man’s resolve. He was comforting. He was frightening. He was facing death but making her feel more alive than ever.

  His kisses slowed. He wrapped her in his arms and held her forehead against his collarbone. His heart hammered beneath her palm.

  “You’ll hide like I told you?” His voice was raspy. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  She gathered her wits. “You’d do fine without me. You always have.” At first she was proud of her answer, but as he looked away, she felt something remotely akin to shame. What was she doing? Why couldn’t she admit to him that she’d rather face this danger at his side than be protected and lose him? Why couldn’t she admit that this meant more to her than a desperate farewell?

  Her own breathing slowed as he stepped away. He stared pointedly at the geodes in the windowsill, each one standing alone, but he didn’t touch them. Instead, he started in again with the instructions, the warnings, but they fell on deaf ears. All she could hear was her own conscience begging her to be honest with him while she still had the chance. To confess that she hadn’t stopped loving him, no matter the distance he’d put between them. Why couldn’t she show him her heart?

  Because she’d done it once before, and what followed had hurt her more than she’d ever admit.

  Chapter Eight

  The afternoon sun bounced off every drop of moisture bedecking the grass, the leaves, and the spiderwebs. Even the mud slicks sparkled proudly as if they’d accomplished something remarkable in their soggy brown depths. Josiah turned one last time at the edge before the mountain began its sharp descent. The wiry Silas stopped, too, his worried expression visible even from that distance.

  Josiah raised his hand to his mouth. She couldn’t be certain, but it appeared that he’d blown her a kiss before they disappeared over the ridge.

  Keep him safe, Lord, she prayed as she raised her hand for a last farewell gesture. Funny how she didn’t even have to consider what a wife would do in this situation. She followed her heart and found that she knew how to behave after all.

  But sometimes her heart led her astray. Sometimes her compulsions weren’t for her own good, and she needed to tackle that problem head-on.

  Katie Ellen was not a procrastinator. When something needed to be done, she did it. But this was different. She needed to get her heart straight, but she didn’t rightly know how to go about it. She’d been wrong before, although rarely, and had dealt with dread and guilt. So why did she feel the same now? Loving Josiah made her feel guilty, like she’d failed in some way, and she never wanted to admit her failings when she could help it. What she really wanted was to correct the mistake and move on, but fixing her heart would take an invention that couldn’t be hammered out by the blacksmith.

  She found herself inside the house. Normally she would immediately put her hand to cleaning the watery, milky, smoky mess, but no matter how the scatterment irked her, she let it be. There were things more important than tidiness. She’d always thought that if she could control life on her hill, then nothing bad could happen, but now she realized that the world wouldn’t fall apart if mud was tracked inside the cabin. Life wouldn’t end just because a bonfire had been lit in the parlor. She walked into her bedroom and smoothed the coverlet. Nothing had hurt her like losing her best friend, and it was her fault that he hadn’t come back until now.

  Taking a geode in each hand, she set them gently next to each other. This was her flaw. She’d decided to end the relationship with Josiah when it was clear she couldn’t control the outcome. Rather than give him any say, she ran, afraid of what his answer would be.

  And it wasn’t just the big decisions that she’d chosen poorly on. How many dozens of smaller incidents had she mishandled? So he wanted the rocks together. Did it hurt her to comply? So he left a mess in the kitchen. Wasn’t his company worth a few nicks in the pottery?

  Leaving the geodes, she walked into the parlor. Here sat an outcome a mite more severe than a nick in the pottery, but it wasn’t Josiah’s fault. He’d help her clear it when he came back. She didn’t have the will to do it alone any longer.

  She took down her coat. No more rain fell, but every breeze brought a shower down off the leaves. Throughout this deluge she’d managed to stay dry. No sense in getting mussed up now. Keeping an eye toward the bluff, she hurried through her chores. Eggs collected, cow milked, stock fed.

  Should she go back to the house? Truth be told, Silas wasn’t as much scary as outright annoying. Hiding under the bed was the most simplistic suggestion she’d ever heard, and while Josiah could make a compelling argument of anything using those persuasive techniques, she had regained her sanity.

  Pa’s hammer rested atop the milk can. Katie Ellen shook her head. No question who had forgotten to return it to its proper place, but she didn’t mind. Warmth spread inside her coat as she recollected the way Josiah had stood behind her holding the boards. She dearly regretted the broken window, but looking back, it’d been fun repairing it. Running her fingers over the hammer, she decided to leave it out just to prove she could.

  A shout rang out through the still air—a man’s voice. Katie Ellen jumped, and before the echo had time to ricochet off the side of Dewey’s Bald, she was running to the door. It had definitely come from the bluff. Was it Silas? She skidded in her tracks. Josiah had warned her. He’d told her what to do, and she’d promised. She wouldn’t go crashing through the trees looking for him; she had to hide in case Silas was coming for her.

  Grabbing the hammer, she bounded into the feed sling, catching the opposing rope on the way. While she’d never used the double pulley to raise her own weight—who had time for such shenanigans?—she knew it’d work. Dropping the hammer next to her feet, she yanked that old rope down hand over hand, wobbling a bit when the sling left the ground. Her arms ached, reminding her of wrestling with Buttercup and the calf the day before. Had it only been a day? One day with Josiah. Was that all she’d get?

  Halfway to the rafters. Buttercup looked up with doubtful eyes and lowed.

  “Don’t look at me,” Katie Ellen said. “You’ll lead him right to me.” But no, Silas wouldn’t be coming back alone. Josiah was fine. He had to be.

  As the sling reached the pinnacle, Katie Ellen ducked, trying to get as close to the top as she could. Holding the tension on the rope so she didn’t plummet to the barn floor, she threw the end of it over the beam, caught it, and looped it inside itself. The rope creaked as the weight pulled the knot tighter, but it held.

  She ripped through the buttons on her coat and tossed it into the bottom of the sling. Nimble, that’s what she needed to be. And armed. She picked up the hammer and tucked it into her waistband, then slowly rose, arms out to her side to keep her balance. The sling rocked. She froze. Afraid to even lift her eyes up, she waited for it to settle before stretching upward and clutching the beam. The square edges dug into her already sore arms. She kicked a foot up into the knotted rope and used that step to throw her leg over the rafter. Wedging her toes into it, she pushed off once again, and this time managed to haul her weight on top of the beam.

  Katie Ellen lay flat, head resting on her arms, and she waited for her breathing to slow. She didn’t want to be up there. She wanted to be with Josiah, wherever he was. Gradually her fear turned to resolve. She didn’t know how, but if Silas returned without him, she’d make him pay.

  Cool logic calmed her. Looking down, she assessed the situation. No trace
was left of her below, but the sling being suspended was a dead giveaway. Scooting backward on the beam, she reached the knot and untied the rope, letting the sling fall to the ground. The beam wasn’t wide enough to hide her skirt, but no one would look for her up there. Her throat squeezed shut. If only she could get to Josiah and see what had happened . . .

  Voices came from outside, or was it only one voice? Cautiously, Katie Ellen squirmed the hammer out of her waistband. She held it against her side as she listened.

  Singing.

  “‘He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword . . .’”

  It was Silas. Her eyes burned, but not with tears. With fury. She’d defended the man, gave him the benefit of the doubt. What had he done with Josiah? Her Josiah who was as familiar to her as the sun rising over the mountain every morning. Josiah, whom she expected to stumble across every time she took out from home, and was sorely disappointed when she didn’t.

  As soon as she could get away, she’d join a posse and hunt Silas down.

  The barn door creaked open. Silas ambled inside like he didn’t have a care in the world. His loosely jointed legs and arms swung like a chain of sausage links. He headed right to Buttercup. Leaning over the stall, he scratched her on the head. Buttercup, the traitor, leaned closer.

  “Where’s that little mistress of yours?” he asked.

  The silence of the barn rang in Katie Ellen’s ears. Surely he could hear it, too. Instead, with a last pat on the cow’s head, he turned and headed to the door. As he passed directly beneath her, he paused. Something about the sling had caught his attention. Katie Ellen’s skin crawled. She’d left her coat. Silas scanned the barn, deliberately lingering in places where a person could hide. He turned a full circle, searching. No song on his lips now. Having made a complete scan, he stopped. . . . Then slowly, ever so slowly, he tilted his head back and followed the rope to her hiding place.