Come Back

by Melissa Maygrove

Seth left her to retrieve his horse. He returned her knife and fetched her coat from the sled. “There’s a small cliff about a quarter mile west of here,” he said as he helped her put it on. “We could make camp under the shelter of the overhang, and then—”

  “Thanks, but I already have a place to stay.”

  “You can’t go back to the hut. It’s not sa—”

  “I’m not referring to the hut. I haven’t lived there in over a year.” At his look of consternation, she added, “I only took you there because... because I didn’t want you to know too much about me.” Why did admitting it make her feel so awful?

  “Oh.” He sounded resigned, not angry. That made her feel worse. “In that case, we’ll go to your new home. Lead the way.”

  Becca inclined her head toward the dead man. “What about him?”

  Seth shifted his stance, blocking her view. “I’ll come back and take care of that. Right now we need to get you someplace safe and warm.”

  Becca put on her gloves, stepped into the loop of rope attached to the sled, and bent over to lift it off the ground.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking my firewood home.”

  Seth was beside her in two swift strides. “I’m not going to stand by while you pull that load. What kind of a man do you think I am?”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.” Becca dropped the rope and stepped aside. “I’m not used to having anyone do things for me.”

  His expression softened, and the hint of a smile she’d seen earlier returned. “Here.” He handed her the rope he’d attached to his horse’s halter. “You can lead Cyrus. He likes you better anyway.”

  Becca walked beside Seth and pointed the way as he dragged the sled like it weighed next to nothing. “Are you working for the men at the outpost again?”

  “No. My work for them was done weeks ago.”

  “Oh.” What he’d been doing since?

  He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t pry.

  When they were almost there, she started to ask him to keep this place a secret, but he looked at her with those noble blue eyes, and she knew that he would. “I live in a cave now.”

  “A cave?”

  She nodded. “It’s just behind those trees.”

  Seth shook his head when they rounded the copse and the ledge-shielded entrance of the cave came into view. “You sure have a knack for keeping yourself hidden.” He stepped away from the sled and looked around. “Where do you want me to put the wood?”

  “I stack it inside.” Becca led him up a slight incline and into the opening of the cave. In summer, cool shade would have greeted them. Now, in contrast to the frigid weather, a relative warmth pervaded the space.

  Around the corner to the right lay the cavern where she stored her wood—a stone niche completely shielded from the rain. Refusing any help, Seth carried in armfuls of sticks and logs, his muscular shoulders bulging and shifting as he worked. Once the new wood was neatly stacked with the rest, he stood the flat sled on end in its storage space nearby and brushed the dirt and bark from his leather duster. “That’s an impressive stash of wood.”

  “Thanks. I learned my lesson last winter and did a better job of collecting it this year.” Her grip on her coat tightened and Seth rubbed the back of his neck as uncomfortable silence hung between them. She wanted to be alone, but she had someone else’s needs to consider. “Do you need to come in and warm up before...?”

  “No, but thank you.” He glanced at her clothing, trying not to be too obvious it seemed. “Want me to build you a fire? Heat some water for your bath?”

  “It isn’t necessary.”

  “I don’t mind. Cold as it is—”

  “Thank you, but it really isn’t necessary.”

  A small crease appeared between his brows. “I’ll be gone a while. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  Becca forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  Seth exhaled and tipped his hat. “See you in about an hour.” He strode to where Cyrus waited, readied his mount, and swung into the saddle with masculine grace. He was kind; an obvious gentleman—a fact she couldn’t reconcile with the brutal act he’d committed.

  Apparently he couldn’t either. A grim expression hardened the lines of his face as he turned to ride away.

  Becca watched until he was out of sight, and then she retreated into the cave. After removing her boots and coat and gathering a towel and fresh clothes, she padded along the smooth, stone path that led to the spring. Even in the relative dark, the rippling blue-green water was visible, a welcome sight.

  One by one, she removed each piece of her clothing. Skirt? Wash. Stockings? Wash. Drawers? Wash. Torn, blood-spattered shirt? Burn. Blood-stained chemise? She cringed.... Wash. The thought of wearing it again turned her stomach, but after ruining one to bind Seth’s ribs, she was left with only two. She reluctantly placed it in a bucket of cold water to soak.

  Becca removed the tie from the end of her braid, combed her hair loose with her fingers, and walked to the edge of the pool. A throaty sigh escaped as she slid into the steamy water. Fed by both a spring and a stream, it was hot but not scalding.

  She waded out a few feet—the water level just above her waist and the sandy bottom molding to her toes—then buckled her knees and submerged herself completely. She pushed back through the surface, propelled by the stinging under her chin, but she held the whimper at bay. Slicking the water from her hair, she returned to the side and settled herself on one of two underwater ledges protruding from the spring’s wall.

  As the water lapped her shoulders, Becca hoped her cares would vanish with the wisps of steam rising off the pool, but they didn’t. She ran her hands along her arms. Instead of feeling silky the way the water usually made them feel, they felt slimy. She couldn’t see her body through the foggy water, but the thought of what nearly happened to it—to her—sent a blast of truth from her head to her feet and triggered a wave of trembling spasms and choking sobs. She drew her knees up and wrapped them with her arms, her ragged cries distorting as they bounced off the dome-shaped walls. For once, she was glad to be encased in stone and all alone.

  Her face dipped too low and she sucked in water with a breath. Coughing and sputtering, she shot to her feet. Her mournful wails turned to angry roars.

  She grabbed her bar of soap from its place beside the spring and scrubbed every inch of her skin as fast as she could. Even through the jasmine scent, she could still smell the blood. Frantically, she lathered her hair and arms and chest; scratched and wiped and scrubbed. Would she ever feel clean?

  With a final, defeated sob, she threw the soap aside and sank to the bottom of the pool, eyes closed, cocooned by soundlessness.

  However detached, sensibility returned as she surfaced and drew in a breath. Seth would be back soon. She couldn’t let him find her like this. Becca squeezed the water from her hair. She waded out of the pool and reached for her towel.

  Seth stared at the entrance to Rebecca’s cave, trying to muster the courage to go in. She wasn’t the only one shocked by what he’d done. He had no issue with the fact he’d killed a man—saving her life was more than enough justification—but the fury that compelled him to break a neck with his bare hands was a frightening thing to possess. And, he sobered, probably twice as frightening to witness.

  Rebecca had gone willingly with him and invited him into her home, but it was clear she was only being polite. Still, as shaken as she was, he needed to make sure she was all right. He knew all too well how traumatizing something like this could be for a woman. Seth took off his hat and walked inside. If Rebecca didn’t want him there, he’d stay someplace else; but first, he’d make sure she was well enough to be left alone.

  The cavern to the right where she stored her wood was a dead end, so he went to the left. The tunnel was narrow and dark, but he kept going, drawn by light at the other end.

  When the familiar scent of jasmine met his nose, he stopped and cleared his throat. “Rebecc
a, it’s Seth. Are you there?”

  “Yes,” she called. “Come in.” Maybe it was the acoustics of the cave, but her tone didn’t sound very inviting.

  He stepped out of the tunnel into a huge, round room, and his gaze was immediately drawn skyward. Large shafts of sunlight crossed like pale white reeds, shining this way and that, coming through holes in the rocky dome. He’d never seen anything like it—well, once, when he’d torn down an old barn with his pa. But the meager, mote-filled beams coming through that roof weren’t as spectacular as this.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Rebecca said. “As soon as I get the fire going, I’ll fix us some lunch.” She was kneeling near a pile of kindling in the middle of the room, wearing fresh clothes and a damp braid. She was calm, but she was pale. And he didn’t miss the high-neck white blouse buttoned all the way up.

  Seth followed the shaft of light that was shining on her up to a hole directly above her head.

  “Don’t worry,” she said as if reading his mind. “Except for very windy days, I can build a fire in here. The smoke will rise and go out.”

  “What do you do on windy days?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t build any fires.”

  “What about winter? How do you stay warm?”

  “I go deeper in the cave. The temperature doesn’t change much there.”

  Seth was struck dumb. So many assumptions he’d made about this woman and her dwelling were wrong.

  Pulled back out of his thoughts by her curious gaze, he lowered his game bag off his shoulder and held up two freshly killed rabbits. “Want to add these to lunch?”

  “Um. Yes.” ‘If you’ll do the skinning,’ the look on her face said.

  “I’ll take them outside and get them ready for you. I’ll make a spit, too.”

  “Don’t worry about the spit.” Rebecca rose to her feet. “I saved the ones you made last time.” She crossed the room and fished the smaller one out of a crate against the stone wall, then turned to him with a bashful smile. “Hasn’t gotten much use, though.”

  “Do you have a bucket I can borrow to fetch some water?”

  “Wait here. I’ll do you one better.” She disappeared through a tunnel on the far side of the room, her dark brown skirt swishing around the ankles of her boots. Minutes later, she returned, carrying a wooden bucket, and held it out to him already full. “There’s an underground stream that runs through the cave. It’s safe to drink.

  “Want me to fill your canteen?” she asked when he took the bucket.

  “No. But thank you for offering.” He’d filled it when he washed up after disposing of Ray.

  Seth set the bucket down long enough to dip his handkerchief in the cold water and squeeze it out. “Here.” He offered it to her. “For your face.”

  “Thank you, but I already put something on it.”

  Seth made a rote move to return his handkerchief to his pocket, then stopped midway, not sure what to do with the soggy cloth.

  She gingerly took it from him. “I’ll lay it out to dry.”

  Rebecca knelt near the kindling again. She lifted a pair of spectacles and held it over the pile. She glanced up, then scooted over and aimed one of the lenses so it focused the sunlight into a thin, bright beam. It wasn’t long before the kindling began to smoke. With rote, economical movements, she added more kindling and blew the embers into flame, then added sticks and a few small logs.

  Seth stood there, staring.

  Rebecca rose to her feet and turned around with the spectacles in her hand. “I thought you were going to clean the rabbits.”

  “I am,” he said, schooling his features. He was making a habit of gaping at her like an idiot. “I was watching you start the fire. Do you always do it that way?”

  “Yes, whenever it’s sunny out. I have to use a bow drill when it’s not.”

  “You don’t have matches?”

  Her long, brown lashes lowered over her eyes, and the brightness that had finally begun working its way back into her expression disappeared. “I do, but I have a limited supply. I have to conserve them.” She crossed the room to the crate and carefully placed the spectacles in a small wooden case.

  Seth lifted the game bag onto his shoulder. “I’ll go clean these. I won’t be long.”

  Rebecca gave a demure nod. “I’ll fix some potatoes.”

  Seth finished cleaning the rabbits and headed back to the cave, the whole time thinking about Angel, the woman he now knew as Rebecca. A month ago when he’d left to go back to the outpost, he spent the entire trip wondering if she was crazy. Of course, he’d assumed she was living in the hut. Seeing her cave and the ease with which she cared for herself changed his opinion. Well, not entirely. She couldn’t survive out here—not long-term—but he was beginning to understand her reluctance to leave. However foolish the notion, the woman was determined to make it on her own.

  But how in blue blazes did she get here in the first place?

  Announcing his presence, he entered the cave and joined her in the large, sunlit room. “Need help?” he asked as he laid the rabbits on a clean square of cloth she’d prepared.

  “No—um, yes.” She handed him the spit. “Skewer those while I set up the frame.”

  Seth went along, but he was skeptical. In the woods, he’d driven the stakes into the ground. That would be impossible to do with the stone floor of the cave.

  Rebecca arranged two blocks of wood, one on each side of the fire. The blocks had holes in them—charred indentions that looked like they’d been hewn by a knife and burned by friction.

  She glanced at him and blushed. “I failed a few times before I learned to use a bow drill.”

  Seth frowned inwardly—probably more than a few. Using friction to start a fire was a difficult task, and not very reliable.

  Holding one of the blocks steady, she inserted a stake into the hole. When she let go, it stayed standing.

  “Well,” he said as she secured the other one, “at least they’re good for something.”

  She smiled at him then, and it reminded him how much he missed her smiles.

  They took turns rotating the rabbits over the fire while Rebecca tended the potatoes that were baking on hot stones at the edge of the coals. The smells of smoke and game filled the air. And jasmine.

  “Can you keep an eye on this for a minute?” she asked.

  At his assent, she rose and hurried into a second tunnel a few feet to the right of the first. It was wider, but nearly as dark.

  She returned, carrying two small crates, and set them upside down a safe distance from the fire. “I don’t store much in here,” she said as she sat down and took over turning the spit. “The holes are wonderful for letting in light, but they also let in rain.”

  Seth pushed himself up and sat on the other crate, rubbing the ache from his knees. “How big is this place?”

  “My cave?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “I don’t know... probably about the size of a small farmhouse.”

  His brows shot up. “Really?”

  She nodded. “It has several rooms.”

  “Do the other rooms have holes for light like this one?”

  “No.”

  “How do you see?”

  She pointed to an opening over one of the tunnels. “There are shafts here and there that connect to other parts of the cave. On bright days like this, there’s enough light to see my way around. On stormy days and at night, I light a candle if I need to see.”

  “You don’t have a lantern?”

  She shook her head and her expression fell some. “I spend most of my time in here. Unless it’s raining or too cold.”

  Silence filled the space between them.

  “I’ll get my plates,” Seth offered.

  “Don’t bother.” Rebecca pointed to the crate across the room. “There are plates in there. Cutlery, too.”

  He retrieved two plates—fine china, no less—along with knives and forks and brought them over by the fire. Becca
served them both ample portions of food, but she wasn’t eating much.

  “I’m shocked,” he said, trying to lighten her mood. “I figured you’d eat your rabbit and fight me for mine, too.”

  Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “I’m sorry. It’s very good. I’m just not hungry.”

  “I was joking, Rebecca. You don’t need to apologize.”

  Seth set his plate aside. His appetite wasn’t much better. “Those are awful fancy plates for a cave,” he said, gesturing at hers. Maybe if he got her talking it would distract her from the day’s events. Heck, who was he kidding? Distract them both.

  She swallowed the tiny bite of potato she’d just taken. “China’s heavier than tin.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “I found them by the trail.”

  Ah. “Is that where you got the clothes you gave me?”

  She nodded. “You’d be surprised what desperate people will throw away.”

  Seth stretched out his legs. “What else have you found?”

  Rebecca set her plate on her lap and looked thoughtful. “I’ve found all kinds of clothes and shoes... a few kitchen utensils—” She glanced conspiratorially at him. “—people generally hang on to those, and books—lots of them.” Her eyes lit up with the last.

  “You must like to read.”

  “I do, very much.”

  He bet she did. How else would she pass the time here alone? And judging by the look on her face, conversation was near the top of her list, too. Keep her talking. “What’s the strangest thing you found?”

  She knitted her brows, then a flash of enthusiasm smoothed them. “In one of the trunks, I found a wooden leg.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Honest. I couldn’t believe anyone would leave something like that behind.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “No.” She ducked her head and glanced at him sideways. “I used it for firewood last winter.”

  Seth chuckled. “I hope it was a spare.”

  Rebecca laughed, then her eyes lit up again. “Oh. And after the wagon train that came through in July...”

  He didn’t hear anything after the word July. Seth stared past Rebecca as he processed the implication of what she’d said.