She looked up at him with a bashful shade of pink heating her cheeks. “Good morning.” She was probably embarrassed about— “I’m sorry about last night.” She half averted her gaze.
“Don’t be.” He smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”
She smiled back, but the spark of it was missing from her eyes. Her gaze shifted to his chest and she turned bright red.
Seth held out his arms and looked down. Not only was the front of his shirt wrinkled, but it looked like a handkerchief. A stiff, dry, well-used handkerchief. He looked back up at Becca, who’d covered her face with both hands, and grinned at her when she peeked at him through her fingers.
Her fingers snapped shut. “I can’t believe I did that to you,” she groaned.
Seth laughed. He set his shaving kit aside and turned to go back to his room. “Don’t worry. Thanks to a generous lady I know, I have a spare.”
Once he’d changed, he gave Becca the shirt, reveling at her mortified face that still glowed. “Wash it for me and we’ll call it even. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He grinned and threw her a wink. “I’ll be back,” he said as he pulled on his duster and reached for his hat. “Don’t worry. I won’t go far—only about twenty yards to the east.”
Seth tapped down his hat and walked out into the cold, clear morning, taking in the sight of the mountains and making his plans for the day. He’d keep the conversation light until after their meal. Then it’d be time to get down to business.
Seth set his plate aside. “Thank you. That was good.” Rebecca had fried some potatoes and venison steaks, and heated what was left of the cobbler.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.” Her eyes fluttered closed in an expression of ecstasy as she took a sip from her china cup. “Mmm.”
“Coffee good?”
She nodded.
It wasn’t, but she’d apparently been deprived of it so long her point of reference was skewed.
Taking care not to drop the dainty cup from his large hands, he took a sip and stretched out his legs. He needed to broach the subject of leaving—the threat of winter weather mostly driving the urge—but he wanted to learn more about Rebecca before he did. Maybe she trusted him enough now to answer him truthfully and not dodge his questions.
He drained his cup and handed it to her, shaking his head in refusal of a refill. “You’ve got quite a place here.”
She smiled mildly and took another sip of coffee.
“When you said ‘cave,’ I pictured a hole in the side of a hill and not much else.”
“It took me a while to find, but it suits my needs.”
Dig a little deeper. Something neutral. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
The curve left her lips. “I have an older brother who lives in Missouri. I had a younger sister, but she died when I was seven.”
“I’m sorry,” he said and she gave a slight nod.
He was already treading on thin ice. Might as well plunge in all the way. “How did you end up living in the wilderness alone?”
Rebecca’s face took on a pained expression so acute it surprised him. He’d known this wasn’t going to be easy, but he hadn’t expected such an intense reaction.
She set her cup down and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Please, Becca. Tell me.”
Tears rimmed her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I was left here.”
He sat forward. “By whom?” She flinched at his tone, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the mongrel who did this to her.
The agony in her eyes was palpable. “My parents.”
Seth gaped. “Your parents did this to you?”
Becca nodded.
“Why?”
She didn’t answer.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then held out his hand. “You were only eighteen.”
“Seventeen.” The word was practically a whisper.
“My God, Becca. Why?”
“I don’t know why. We were traveling with a wagon train headed for California. I found out we were going to be delayed for a day, so I left to go exploring. When I got back to the trail, they were gone.”
Seth couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You didn’t hear them leave?”
“No. I was too far away, near a stream. The sound of the water must’ve drowned out the noise.”
“Did you try to catch up with them?”
“Yes!” She drew a breath and composed herself. “I ran after them when I realized what happened, but I came to a fork in the trail and I didn’t know which path they took.”
Oh, Becca. The draining emotion stole the strength from his voice. “No one ever came back for you?”
“No... well. I don’t know. I went back to the place we’d made camp and waited. But then an Indian—”
“An Indian!”
She waved dismissively. “He didn’t see me. But seeing him scared me and I ran. I hit my head and knocked myself out. When I woke up later that day, a storm was coming. I had to take shelter overnight. And then I got lost. By the time I found my way back to the trail, nearly a whole day had passed.” She shrugged. “It’s possible they sent scouts and I missed them.”
Seth shook his head slowly, lips parted. She was obviously being honest with him, but something about her story didn’t ring true. The captain would have sent scouts when they realized she was missing, but why didn’t they notice her absence right away. They should have never left.
“What?”
He must’ve said the last part out loud. “They should have never left. I’m trying to figure out why your parents didn’t notice you were missing right away.”
She hugged herself again and barely met his gaze. “I think they did.”
“What makes you say that?”
Humiliation like he’d never seen lined her features. She rose to her feet and gave an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, an invitation to follow, then led him to the second storage room and walked all the way to the back. In the dim light, he could barely make out the items stacked around the walls.
“I found those sitting by the side of the trail,” she said, pointing to two wooden barrels. “They were apparently left there for me.”
Seth bent over and inspected them more closely. “What are they?”
“They came from my family’s wagon. They’re empty now, but they held my rations of corn and wheat.”
Nausea gripped him. She was right; they must’ve known. Even partially-full, the barrels would’ve been too heavy for horses to carry. They would have to have been removed before the wagons left.
Seth brooded over the facts until his head hurt. Dumping her for lack of food didn’t make sense. They’d left her rations behind.
Maybe her reputation had been compromised. That was the only thing he could think of. But even in the face of that, most parents wouldn’t leave their only daughter to die in the wild. Something must’ve prevented them from staying to look for her and from coming back. “We need to find your family. There must be an explanation.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it away. “If they wanted me, they would have found me.”
“But you don’t want to be found—you stay hidden. You said so yourself.”
“I didn’t at first.” She swiped away another tear. “For weeks I sat by that trail every day, waiting for someone to come.” Her chest heaved with an errant sob. “Had they wanted to find me, they would’ve.” Shame and indignation radiated from her. So much pain. He reached for her, but she spun on her heel and ran out.
Seth went after her. She was bitter and ashamed, and probably wanted to be alone, but he didn’t want her running off again. He hurried to the entrance of the cave, then drew to a halt and stepped back into the shadows when he saw her sitting on a rock on the other side of the clearing. She was hugging her knees, her face buried and her shoulders shaking.
His muscles tensed, practically hurting with th
e effort it took to stay put. He told himself it was better this way, but his heart refused to listen to his mind. He was about to give in and go comfort her when Cyrus ambled over to her instead.
The horse nudged her shoulder, twice, then blew out a frustrated breath and nudged her again. Becca shrugged him away at first, but then she lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. It wasn’t long before she was hugging the animal’s neck and stroking his mane.
Good boy, Cyrus.
Seth watched the pair from the shadows, a little jealous of his mount, if he was honest. Just like last night, he glimpsed the frightened girl inside the brave woman, and he wanted to be the one she turned to for reassurance. Heck, for everything.
Let it go, Seth. You’re not what she needs. Not long-term, anyway.
Rebecca must’ve sensed his presence. She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. Turning back, she gave Cyrus one last pat, then she got up off the rock and walked toward the cave.
When she reached him, Seth tipped up her chin and wiped away the traces of tears with his thumb. “Parents don’t up and leave their children behind. There has to be an explanation.”
She pulled her chin from his grasp and glanced away, then turned her weary eyes on him. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”
Seth let out a sigh as she brushed past him into the cave. He’d get to the bottom of her abandonment eventually. For now he just needed to convince her to leave.
“Lunch about ready?” Seth asked as he walked into the large, domed room. He’d given Rebecca some time alone while he tended to Cyrus.
“Just a few more minutes.” How she managed to sit on a crate and look as poised as if she were on a settee in some fancy parlor, he didn’t know.
He set his hat aside and took off his coat. “What’s on the menu?”
“Potatoes and steaks again. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Nope. Not at all.” He smiled. “Meat and potatoes is always good eatin’.” He settled himself on the other crate with his back against the wall, legs stretched out, watching Rebecca cook and trying not to stare. Her braid swept back and forth as she moved, the tip of it grazing her narrow waist. Despite her bulky clothes, he could see she was slim. Too slim. He could also see the vestige of curves a few pounds would nicely round out.
He made it through the meal without bringing up anything that would keep her from eating. She still wasn’t back to her old self, but she ate a reasonable portion.
Rebecca set her fork down and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Do you think it’s safe to go looking for wood?”
He bought himself a few moments chewing and swallowing his last bite of steak. “Yes. And actually, that reminds me of something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Seth set his plate aside and took a swig from his canteen. “I’ll help you gather wood if you want, but you don’t need to do that anymore.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “You’re not safe here. And, while you’ve done an unbelievable job of surviving for the last year, without livestock, crops, and a reliable way to renew your supplies, you won’t last.”
She stared at him, then looked down at the fire, hurt and rebellion warring in her eyes.
“Becca,” he said softly. “You know what I’m saying is true.”
She didn’t respond.
Seth leaned forward and tilted his face so he could better see hers. “When I leave this time, I want you to come with me.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her chest rose and fell with several breaths before she looked him straight in the eye. “Why did you come back for me?”
That sat him back.
Why? Because I admire you. Because I care about you. Because I’m beginning to dread the thought of life without you. He shoved his foolish feelings aside and gave her the only answer he could. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
Her face flinched at his reply, and some of the spark left her eyes. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
Was she serious?
“Because you’re a human being—in need. And because... because I do.” He shouldn’t have to justify himself to her. Rescuing her was what any decent person would do. Yet she stared at him with such disappointment in her eyes, he felt like he’d just failed a test.
Without a word, Becca collected their dishes, washed them, and put them away, then turned away and walked toward the tunnel.
What just happened?
Seth stood and raked a hand through his hair. “Um. Would you like me to try and get us a turkey for supper?”
“Do whatever you want,” she muttered. “I’m going to my room.”
Becca finally dragged herself from her bed where she’d lay curled in a hopeless ball for the last few hours. She was so forlorn, she couldn’t even bring herself to cry.
When Seth had come back for her, she began to think he really cared. He’d held her last night when she cried, stroked her hair, and called her Becca. Since then, he’d joked with her and tried to cheer her up. More than once, she’d caught him looking at her with longing in his eyes. Had she only seen what she wanted to see? Assumed feelings that weren’t really there?
Maybe she had. She’d seen the same in Nathan—even had a promise of marriage—and he’d still gone off and abandoned her.
Smoothing her clothes and tucking in strands of hair that had come loose from her braid, Becca returned to the main room. By the slant of the light, it was nearing time to start supper. She gathered her pans and the spit, and then proceeded to stoke the fire. Seth would likely be back soon with a turkey.
And what would she tell him then?
She scooted back against the wall, hugged her legs, and propped her chin on her knees. She wanted to send him away and keep living on her own, but he was right. She wouldn’t survive. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. A familiar numbness had settled over her, just like those early, dark days—days she’d stared bleakly at the empty prairie and contemplated bringing about her own demise. Or at least not doing anything to prevent it.
She was at that crossroad once more, and this time she knew what her decision would be.
Boots thudded on the ground outside, drawing her out of her thoughts. Heavy footsteps trudged to the entrance, but something about them wasn’t right.
Becca stood as the foreign sounds came closer. When a strange groan echoed through the tunnel, she backed away and placed her hand on her knife.
“Becca.” The word was a feeble entreaty.
Seth!
He stumbled from the tunnel hunched over and barely recognizable. His left eye was swollen, his face was bruised, and his hands were covered in blood. He dropped the game bag he was carrying and began to list sideways, losing his footing.
Becca rushed forward and caught him.
“Help me off with my coat.”
She did so and gasped. Blood saturated his shirt, which was slashed nearly in half. Beneath the gaping flaps of fabric lay a long gash that went from his middle all the way around his right side, under his ribs. The skin was flayed open, cut an inch deep in places. “What happened?”
He started to sway, so she lowered him until he was sitting on the ground. He closed his eyes and ran his tongue over dry lips. “On my way back from hunting, I was attacked.”
Becca shivered and glanced back at the tunnel.
“Don’t worry. He was alone. I wasn’t followed.”
“Who attacked you?”
He studied her for a moment. “The man who ran away yesterday.”
Becca’s hand flew to her mouth and tears pricked her eyes. Tucker. As long as she lived, she’d never forget that name. “Did he get away?”
Solemnity swept his features. “No.”
“Good.” It was an awful thing to say, but she didn’t care. And Seth didn’t seem to mind. He just stared at her with a look that was somewhere between astonishment and relief.
He gestured to the hole in his shirt. “I need stit
ches. Can you patch me up?”
She’d been sewing for years and she’d seen it done before. “I think so.” Something dark glistened near her knee—blood! Seth was bleeding so much, it was pooling on the floor. “I’ll get some rags. Don’t move.”
He closed his eyes and nodded.
She hurried to gather everything she would need to care for his wound, then helped him remove his shirt and positioned him flat of his back. She quickly rinsed her hands and placed a folded cloth over the gash in his side.
“Ahh,” he groaned when she pressed down.
“I’m sorry. You’re really bleeding.”
“It’s okay,” he rasped. “Do what you need to do.” He reached for his coat and pulled a shiny, metal flask from one of the pockets.
“What’s that?”
“Whiskey. I keep it for medicinal purposes.” He must. In all the time she’d spent with him, she’d never seen him take a drink or smelled liquor on him.
Becca lifted the cloth. A bright red stream ran over the edge of the cut and down his side. She repeated the process two more times, holding firmer pressure, but it didn’t help. “It’s not working. There’s a place the keeps bleeding no matter what I do.”
Seth’s eyes were closed. When he opened them and looked at her, they were bleak. “You’re going to have to burn it.” He inclined his head toward her waist. “Take your knife and stick the end of it in the fire. Get it as hot as you can.”
She shied away and shook her head.
“You have to, Becca. You have to, or I’ll bleed to death.” Fluid sloshed in the flask as he tossed back a swallow. “Just do it. We can’t waste any more time.”
Hands shaking, she unsheathed her knife and held the tip of it in the flames. When the knife was so hot it was practically glowing, she returned to him and knelt by his side. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You have to. Hurry—before it cools.” He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and gave a single, sharp nod of his head.
Becca steadied herself by placing her free hand flat against his side, and then she pressed the tip of the knife into the cut, right to the source of the blood.
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