Come Back

by Melissa Maygrove

“I’ll be all right.”

  “No you won’t. I can hear your teeth chattering already.”

  A long moment later, fabric rustled and boots scuffed against wood.

  He lifted the edge of his blanket and waited for her to crawl in. She finally did, but with her back to him and her blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon.

  Good thing she couldn’t see him grin in the dark.

  He lowered his blanket over her, and she stiffened like a sun-dried boot.

  “Angel.”

  “Hm?”

  “If I wanted to hurt you or have my way with you, I’d have done it by now.” Being mindful of where he touched, Seth wrapped her with his arm and tucked her against him. “You’re safe with me. Go to sleep.”

  Seth shivered under the blanket. The warmth around him had faded. So had the jasmine scent that filled his nose all night long. He opened his eyes to the pale morning light peeking through cracks in the branch-woven walls, and to an empty space beside him. With half a grin, he shook his head and shoved his covers aside. Knowing Angel, the little early bird was probably stoking the fire and warming their breakfast.

  He stepped out of the hut and looked around, each breath a white puff in the frosty air. Fresh logs blazed, but the remnants of supper still hung from the tree. Angel was nowhere to be seen.

  Oh, well. If she had slept as well as he, she’d probably just awoken. He’d lay money she was off taking care of personal needs... which was the same place he was headed.

  Boots crunching through icy leaves, Seth strode across the clearing and into the woods. He chuckled as he walked to his area, as Angel termed it. Earlier in the week, by sheer chance, they’d chosen nearly the same spot—at nearly the same time. He didn’t argue when she insisted they choose sides.

  When he returned, she still wasn’t there, so he retrieved the food, sat by the fire and waited, devising a plan to fulfill the offer he’d made last night.

  Getting back to the outpost wasn’t going to be easy. They’d be traveling with twice the belongings and people, yet with only one horse, and—thanks to the weather—doing it all pressed for time. He doubted Angel owned much, but she obviously drew from a stash of possessions somewhere. He hoped what she was unwilling to part with wasn’t more than they and Cyrus could feasibly tote.

  Of course, once he bought a second horse and a wagon, they could double back and fetch her things before heading on to Texas, or wherever she wanted to go. For as much as she’d done for him, it was the least he could do in return.

  As the sun rose higher in the trees, he pulled the food from the sack and scanned the camp for cookware. She probably kept it inside. He removed the oiled canvas door from the hut, folded it, and set it aside, then turned back around and stepped in.

  Seth stood in the open doorway and stared at the dust mote-filled space. Something was different, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. The unfettered light streaming in made it look bigger. Emptier.

  When he scanned Angel’s side of the hut, his heart skipped a beat. Her space was completely bare, except for a canteen leaning upright against the wall and a stack of clothes. Men’s clothes.

  Hoping in vain he was mistaken, he squatted and lifted the canteen. Full. He sifted through the trousers and shirts. All of them were his size.

  Damnation. She’d left. That sneaky little woman had got up and left. But—a rueful sound escaped his throat—not without seeing to his needs one last time.

  “Angel.” He sighed. “What were you thinking?”

  Seth stood and raked a hand through his hair as her thoughtful defiance fueled his ire. He’d put up with her games long enough.

  He gathered his things as fast as he could, doused the fire, and rolled up his bed. He bagged the food, too—breakfast could wait. Within minutes, he had everything packed and secured to Cyrus’ saddle. With a last glance around, Seth mounted up and took off. He’d find his stubborn Angel one way or another. She wasn’t going to win. Not this time.

  Becca sat crouched behind the rocks at the top of a cliff, amid flurries of snow. Bitter wind gusted, chilling her bones and stinging her skin.

  For more than an hour, Seth had scoured the countryside calling her name. His search was getting erratic and his pleas were growing shrill, but she didn’t answer, didn’t show herself. It almost killed her, but she refused to be found.

  For a fleeting few moments when he’d held her close last night and told her she was safe, she let herself believe he really cared. But her heart knew better. She’d pulled his body from the elements and taken him in, and he was forced by obligation to do her some favor in return.

  It wasn’t that she expected him to fall in love with her and make some grand promise after knowing her less than a week—life wasn’t a fairytale, and Seth wasn’t her knight—but the truth behind his words to her still hurt. In all the plans he suggested for her future, there was no mention of him. Of them. If she had let him take her to Texas, he’d have turned around and left her there. She was a stranded female he felt the need to rescue. Nothing more. “Relax, Angel. I’m not going to propose,” he’d said. “If I wanted to have my way with you...” —which meant he didn’t. It was clear Seth didn’t want her, and she might as well face the truth. Nobody ever would.

  “Angel!” His desperate cry pierced the wintery wind.

  Blinking flakes of white from her lashes, she tugged her coat tighter around herself and peered through a crack in the rocks.

  Seth shielded his eyes and scanned the hills, sitting atop Cyrus who was tossing his head and turning an irregular circle. “Angel!” he yelled again. He looked at the northern sky and let loose a curse, then flipped up the collar of his leather duster, tamped down his hat, and spurred his horse into a gallop toward the south.

  Becca swiped at the icy trails of tears wetting her cheeks and gulped down her sadness as he rode away. She watched his shrinking form until it was gone, and then she made her way down the back of the bluff and headed for the lonely shelter of her cave.

  One month later

  The weight of the sled she dragged behind her was nothing compared to the layer of sorrow that coated her soul. Of the fourteen months she’d lived here, the last one had been the worst. Even the isolation she’d felt the first weeks after the wagon train left hadn’t hurt this much. She’d only known Seth a few days. He’d been gruff at times—downright surly even—but memories of the nomadic cowboy kept running through her mind and tugging at her heart.

  As the sled bumped along the rocky ground and she half-heartedly searched for pieces of wood, Becca frowned and pondered the paradox of the man. He had the plans of a drifter, yet he had the manners of someone raised by a respectable family. He wasn’t a criminal of any sort—that was evident. And he was educated. She’d seen him read and write. He was healthy, strong, and smart. A young man like that should have better goals.

  Of course, he probably thought the same thing of her.

  She’d seen the utter shock in his eyes when she told him she lived here alone. And the judgment that followed when she resisted his urging to leave. Her reasons weren’t something she’d talk about, but they were good ones. Maybe when it came to his choices, Seth had good reasons, too.

  Becca bent down and lifted a fallen branch, a nice one that would burn a long time. She dusted it off and added it to the growing pile on her sled.

  Thankfully, the weather had finally let up. She’d have bet her last morsel Seth exaggerated about it to convince her to go, but the storm that hit the next day proved her wrong. It dropped the temperature unseasonably low and covered the hills in a blanket of white. That snow didn’t stick, but the next one did.

  He was right. It was going to be a harsh winter.

  A familiar grove of aspens came into view—their tall, tapered trunks dotted with gray, a single evergreen dwarfed at the base. To anyone else, it was just another grove of many, but to her, it meant she was nearly home. Becca steered her sled north, toward the incline that led to her c
ave, then bent to pick up one last piece of wood. As she straightened, a noise behind her made her stiffen.

  She drew a tight breath, laid the stick down, and eased her hand toward her knife. She knew the sound of a shoe snapping twigs when she heard it.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said. Male, but not Indian. And probably not more than ten feet away.

  Now she wished she’d held on to the wood.

  “Shoo-wee. A woman out here in these hills,” a second voice said. “I wouldn’a believed it if I hadn’a seen it with my own two eyes.” Also male. And half-drunk, by the way he slurred his words.

  Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry, but she refused to give in to fear. Maybe she could grab for the wood and—

  “Turn around,” the first one commanded.

  Becca drew another tight breath and rotated slowly until she was facing the strangers.

  Two unkempt men stood a few feet from her, dressed in grimy, tattered clothes. One was tall and thin. Young. His hat sat sloppily cocked to the side, and his grin was just as crooked.

  The other one, the one who’d just spoken, was shorter, stouter, and old enough to be her father. His eyes narrowed until their yellowed whites disappeared, and his gaze slid over her like profane mud.

  Becca resisted the urge to grimace and kept an even tone. “Are you lost?” She didn’t see any horses, and it was too late in the year for a wagon train to be moving through.

  The tall one snickered, but the other man’s gaze only grew more intense. “No,” he said. “We’re not lost.”

  She lifted her chin a notch in spite of the dread twisting her gut. “Well, then. What do you want?”

  The older man’s lips took on a sickening curve. “What exactly are you offerin’?”

  Becca gestured toward the sled, hoping they wouldn’t see her hand tremble. “If you need firewood, I can spare a few logs.”

  The tall one nudged the older man and snickered again. “She thinks we want wood.”

  Don’t show any weakness. “It’s all I have to give you,” she said flatly. “So take it and be on your way.”

  The older man’s lips went straight, and malice lit his eyes. In one quick motion, he pulled a knife and closed half the distance between them. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

  “Take it easy, Ray,” the tall one said.

  “Shut up, Tucker. No bitch is gonna to tell me what to do.”

  Becca started to go for her knife, but the murderous look in Ray’s eyes stopped her. She backed away, then stilled when he reached for the sheath at her waist.

  With a swift yank, he tore it from her, breaking the tether that held it in place. He flung it to his partner without looking back.

  Ray grabbed the nape of her neck and dug his fingers into her braid with a twist that sent pain shooting through her scalp. “You’ll do what I say.” He pulled her up against him—his breath hot and putrid on her face. “And don’t even think about fighting back.” The tip of his knife put a point on his words as it pricked the soft flesh under her chin.

  Becca closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm even though her heart raced and her body quivered with fright. The girl in her wanted to crumple to the ground and weep, but the woman stood firm. Show no weakness. In preparation for their trip, her father had told her many times, ‘If someone threatens you, cooperate. But don’t show any weakness.’

  The tip of the knife left her skin, and Ray’s hand released its grip on her hair. “Take off your coat.”

  Becca opened her eyes to a heartless gaze boring into hers.

  Ray struck her face with the back of his hand so hard, it whipped her head sideways. “I said take off your coat.”

  A tear ran down her throbbing cheek and a drop of blood trickled down her neck. Ignoring the invading cold and the tingling pain of her swelling face, she tucked her gloves in the pockets and lay her coat aside. She wiped away the tear, but left the blood.

  The tall m—Tucker’s face had gone from foolish to feral, and Ray’s lips once more held a sickening curve. “Take off your clothes.”

  Becca stood there, frozen, a battle raging in her mind.

  ‘Cooperate.’

  No!

  ‘Cooperate.’

  Please, Pa. I can’t.

  ‘Cooperate, Becca. The alternative is worse.’

  Was it?

  “I said, take off your clothes!”

  Becca flinched and reached for the front of her shirt, but Ray grabbed it before she could. With a growl, he ripped it open, buttons popping like the spat of gunfire.

  Tucker moved closer, stealing her attention. Ray shoved her to the ground. She fell hard on her back and skidded in the rocky dirt. “Be ready to hold her if she tries to fight,” Ray muttered as he started unfastening his pants. His grip on his knife loosened with the distraction. Maybe she could get it and use it on them.

  Becca eased onto her elbow and coiled her muscles to spring up and charge them. If she could knock Ray backward, she could take them both down.

  “Get away from her!”

  All three of them looked in the direction of the voice.

  Seth! Becca scrambled to her feet.

  “Pass on by,” Ray called out. “You have no business here.”

  Seth reined Cyrus to a stop and surveyed the scene. His fierce gaze locked on Becca, then shifted to the men and turned deadly. “I’ll give you a chance to walk away, but I’m not leaving.”

  “C’mon, Ray,” Tucker said. “Let’s go. She’s not worth it.”

  “Don’t be a coward,” Ray growled. “She’s ours and he’s outnumbered.”

  Seth lifted his revolver and leveled it at the men. “This is your last warning.”

  Tucker dropped her knife and ran off in the opposite direction, but Ray stood his ground. “This doesn’t concern you, stranger. Pass on by.”

  “Go, Angel. Run.”

  Becca started to back away.

  Ray’s eyes narrowed in a scowl. He turned and charged her, teeth bared and knife raised to strike.

  Becca shrieked when a gun blast split the air and echoed off the hills, and then she fell—knocked backward to the ground under Ray’s weight. She shut her eyes tight, waiting for his knife to stab her. Seconds passed. He moaned, and she opened her eyes again.

  His face was inches from hers, his eyes blank and a trickle of blood oozing from his mouth.

  Becca screamed and began shoving him away.

  Big hands grabbed her attacker and lifted him off. He moaned again, but the sound was silenced with a crack as Seth roared and gave the man’s head a sharp twist. He tossed Ray aside like a sack of grain and stood there, chest heaving—the look on his face so savage it chilled Becca to her core.

  She stared at Ray’s lifeless body, then at Seth. He took a step toward her and she scooted away.

  “Angel, it’s me.” He held out a hand. “You’re safe.” She finally took it and let him help her to stand.

  The same hand that touched hers with gentleness had just killed a man, yet when Seth’s familiar voice settled over her, her pounding pulse began to slow. The lethal fury that had rendered him unrecognizable was gone. Only sadness and compassion remained.

  Until he saw her neck.

  Seth reached for her chin.

  She turned her face before his fingers made purchase.

  He withdrew his hand, but pressed his lips together in annoyance. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.” She swallowed. “H-he nicked me with his knife.”

  Seth reached for her again. “How bad? Let me see.”

  She relented and let him examine her wound.

  A low growl rumbled in his throat along with what sounded like a curse.

  “Well?”

  “It’s not deep enough for stitches, but we’ll have to clean it real good. And put something cold on that eye.” Seth let go of her face and began looking her over. “Did he hurt you anyplace else?”

  “I don’t
think so.” Becca followed his gaze to her chest. Blood spattered her from the waist up, and her shirt gaped open. She yanked it closed and clutched it tightly with both hands, thankful her chemise hadn’t torn and left her totally exposed.

  Seth reached for her arms and she pulled away. “I need to see if you’re injured.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re covered in blood.”

  “It’s not mine. Maybe a drop or two from my chin, but—” Becca swallowed back bile.

  “Angel...” He drew the name out in admonition.

  “I promise. I’m not hurt. I just need to—” She cursed her fate inwardly. “—to wash up and change clothes.” She didn’t want to walk anywhere alone, but that was the only way to keep the location of her cave a secret.

  Strands of hair Ray had yanked loose from her braid flapped in the breeze and lashed her face. She tucked them behind her ear, then gripped her tattered shirt again. “You go on ahead. I’ll change my clothes and meet you at the hut.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “For one, I’m not about to let you wander these hills alone after what happened, and—”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “No. Just... No. And we can’t go back to the hut.”

  Her churning stomach hit the ground. “Why not?”

  “That was the first place I went. The men must’ve found it somehow. Two horses were tied there, and I saw evidence of a recent fire. That’s why I came looking for you. I was worried whoever found your hut had found you, too.”

  Becca hugged herself tighter and looked away, invaded by a bleak coldness that had little to do with the winter wind.

  Seth stepped closer. “Don’t worry, Angel. We’ll find a place to stay.”

  “Rebecca.”

  “What?”

  She drew a breath and met his gaze. “My name is Rebecca.”

  His cheek creased as the corner of his mouth lifted. “All right, then. Rebecca.” Her name sounded comforting coming from his lips, just like she knew it would.

  Becca shivered and her teeth began to chatter.