Come Back

by Melissa Maygrove

Seth was keeping pace, now in the river to his knees. She wished he’d turn and look at her, give her reassurance—if only with his eyes—but his focus was entirely on his team.

  Cyrus’ neck gleamed as he held his head high and glided through the water, the flare of his nostrils the only clue to his exertion. Zeus followed a few feet behind, riderless, and looking as majestic as his yokemate.

  Becca sighed, wishing she still had her pastels. They were a found treasure she’d given up freely, but it would likely be years before she could obtain another set.

  One of the Indians yelled. Something struck the scow, jolting them and pitching them sideways. Becca’s pulse pounded in her ears and she gripped the wagon with all her strength. The scow listed right, toward the ropes. Frigid water washed up over the side, swirling around her ankles and seeping into her shoes. She tried to keep from sliding, but the angle was growing too steep. Her boots slipped on the wet wood and her fingers clawed oak. They stung from gathered splinters as she struggled to keep from falling into the river.

  Hatchoq grabbed her and yanked her toward him. He caged her with his arms and flattened her against the back of the wagon with his rock-hard body. Panic hit and she tried to shove him away. She couldn’t jump free if he pinned her like this. Natives shouted all around her. Something splashed to her right and she shrieked. God help her, she was trapped. They were all going to drown!

  “Becca!”

  The distressed shout rising above the din was undoubtedly Seth’s, but the lump of terror in her throat prevented her from answering. Water kept grabbing at her feet, and the Indian held her so tightly she could barely breathe. The ropes began to creak and whine under the strain. If one of them broke...

  She begged Hatchoq to move, but he didn’t budge. Her pleas were sucked back down by a gasp when the scow righted itself, nearly throwing them off in the other direction. It listed back and forth, rocking so far she feared the wagon would tumble off. But then it settled into a gentle glide as if nothing had happened.

  Becca shoved at Hatchoq. “Let me up.” She was glad now he hadn’t let go, but she needed to tell Seth she was okay.

  He released her, allowing her to move back to the corner of the wagon.

  Her blood turned from hot to cold, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. A huge limb was floating away from the scow—headed directly for Seth!

  Cyrus’ eyes went as wide as his master’s. He began thrashing and trying to rear. Seth worked to get control of him, but the horse was far too spooked. Muddy water churned around them as the branch closed in. Cyrus stumbled and plunged beneath the surface of the river, taking his rider with him.

  “Seth!” Becca’s throat closed up as soon as she’d screamed his name.

  Please, God. I need him. Don’t let him die.

  A lasso flew. Rope landed on the limb with a slap. Mahwat jerked his arm back, cinching the loop around a protruding stub of a branch and yanking it tight so it held. His horse tossed his head and backed up as Mahwat growled and fought to change the course of the log. Its path began to shift and its gnarled, leafless hands passed just west of the whorl marking the fallen horse and rider.

  Cyrus surfaced with a splash. Alone.

  Becca’s body ached with dread. Where was Seth? Was he unconscious or injured? Had he been crushed?

  Numbing seconds ticked by as images of his fate shot icy barbs straight through her heart. Her lungs shriveled. She was surrounded by miles and miles of fresh air, but Seth was engulfed in suffocating darkness. Was he scared? In pain?

  Was he even alive?

  She choked on a sob. “Seth.”

  Becca started toward the edge of the scow to jump in, but Hatchoq grabbed her arm and stopped her.

  “Let me go!” She jerked against his iron grip. “We have to help him!”

  He shouted something to one of the men on the bank. The brave promptly threw off his poncho, waded into the shallows, and dove in.

  Something burst from the water near Cyrus’ hip. Pale hands clawed at his saddle, pulling a gasping, dripping Seth halfway onto the horse’s back. He lay there, coughing, his chest heaving.

  “Are you hurt?” Hatchoq called.

  Seth shook his head. After looking Cyrus over and locating Zeus’s lead line, he hoisted himself into the saddle and took up the reins. “Let’s go.”

  He caught up and kept pace with the scow. The river grew so deep in the middle, he had to slide off Cyrus and swim, hanging on to his tail, but they made it across.

  Rebecca gasped when Hatchoq caged her again, this time wrapping an arm around the front of her waist, between her and the back of the wagon. She was about to object when the scow hit the bank with a bone-jarring thud. His arm took the brunt of the blow.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, grateful they’d struck land before she could protest and make a fool of herself.

  The narrow raft rocked as the men began hitching the team and releasing the wheels, but not so much she couldn’t keep her balance. Why hadn’t he let her go? Hatchoq leaned closer and she stiffened. His body heat seeped through her clothes, and his breath stirred the hairs on her neck.

  “When you leave here,” he said softly near her ear, “do not camp for many nights. Camp only in the day, and only as long as you must to eat and rest your horses. Mahwat is ready to take a wife, but the woman he wants has a high price. Her father asks three horses. I fear Mahwat will not keep his word.”

  Apprehension prickled the surface of her skin and her lungs had shriveled again, but she managed to squeeze out a, “Thank you.”

  Hatchoq backed away and escorted her to the shore.

  On her way up the bank, Becca stopped and looked up at Mahwat towering above her on his horse. His eyes were dark, and his menacing expression hadn’t changed.

  She swallowed, the movement scraping her dry throat. “Thank you for saving Seth.” If what Hatchoq said was true, he’d acted to save the horse—not its rider—but if he hadn’t changed the course of the limb, Cyrus and Seth both would be dead.

  Hatchoq repeated what she assumed were her words. She prayed they would get through to the brave, but Mahwat ignored her. He turned and rode away.

  Becca bid Hatchoq farewell and trudged her way up the slope, then stood and watched the men reload the wagon. Her body shook from her ordeal and it ached with fatigue. By the time the shaking had stopped and her muscles had turned to mush, the Indians were gone and Seth had driven the wagon up the slope and parked it on the trail.

  He hurried back to her and captured her in a fierce hug, clutching her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. “Thank God you’re all right. When the scow shifted and I heard a splash—” His body shuddered against hers as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  Becca hugged him back. The muddy water saturating his clothes was seeping into hers, but she didn’t care. “We lost the corn.”

  “I don’t care about the corn.” His hand splayed across her shoulder as he molded his body to hers.

  “I was so frightened.” She pressed her cheek to his muscular chest. “I thought you were going to drown. If something had happened to you—”

  “Shh.” Seth ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. “I’m all right. I just got tangled in the tack.” He gave her one last squeeze and pulled away. “I’m getting you all wet.”

  Drawn by the vulnerability in his eyes, she rose up on her toes and touched her lips to his. Warmth spread across her cheeks as he cradled her face and kissed her back.

  “We made it,” she said when he pulled his lips away. “I can’t believe we’re in California.” Becca lifted her face to kiss him again, but he stiffened and backed away.

  The tenderness was gone, replaced by hard lines and a shuttered expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You shouldn’t be kissing me. You’re betrothed to another man.”

  Seth turned and stalked away, leaving her standing at the bank of the river, alone and shivering.

  Two and one-
half weeks later

  The December wind, whipping through the bonnet and invading her coat, barely chilled her numb skin, and the jostling of the box could never bruise it as much as Seth’s rejection had bruised her soul. After changing his clothes, he’d listened to her as she relayed Hatchoq’s warning, and then he’d sent her to ride in the wagon without another word.

  For more than a week after crossing the river, they traveled at night and stopped for brief rests in the day, taking turns keeping watch while the other was sleeping. She told herself his mood and his silence were due to the danger combined with fatigue, but she knew better. It was her. Her unfaithfulness disgusted him.

  Even after resuming their old routine, Seth made it clear he didn’t want her. He made sure her basic needs were met, but he avoided her as much as he possibly could. No more noontime chats over lunch or evening cuddles by the fire. If she noticed him looking at her, he’d look away.

  It hurt, but it was for the best... wasn’t it? She needed to prepare herself in case Nathan still wanted her. No matter how painful it was, she had to estrange herself from Seth and pray the act wouldn’t totally destroy her heart.

  Becca finished packing her valise and carried it with her as she climbed through the front of the bonnet and onto the wagon seat. Today was the day she’d been waiting for. In a matter of minutes, they’d arrive in Blackwater.

  Unsurprisingly, Seth did nothing to acknowledge her presence. The lines in his face were as deep as the ruts in the road leading into town, and his jaw was as stiff as the north wind. Becca watched him out the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious, but his stern expression made it hard not to stare. Anxiety rising, she clasped her hands in her lap and forced her attention away.

  Wooden sidewalks and clapboard buildings lined the main road. It was only nine in the morning, but the town already hummed with activity. Wagons and men on horseback stirred up dust in the street, while ladies in bonnets and hats walked along the storefronts and went about their day.

  Seth stopped the wagon in front of the general store and set the brake. “Grab your valise. You can wait for me in here while I take the wagon to the livery.” He reached for her and helped her down, barely making eye contact, then let go of her as soon as she had her footing. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done.”

  She took him at his word, but a spot in the center of her chest stung as he drove away. Very soon, that would be the last image of Seth she’d ever see.

  The sounds of footsteps and voices drew her back out of her thoughts. Gripping the handle of her bag with a damp palm, Becca smoothed her hair and reentered civilization.

  A bell tinkled as she walked into the store. The man behind the counter looked up and smiled, but the well-dressed lady in front of him had the bulk of his attention.

  Thankful for the reprieve, Becca closed her eyes and inhaled. The scents of fabric, soap and leather blended with the smells of a kitchen pantry. It reminded her of all the times she’d ridden into town and shopped with her ma.

  I miss you, Ma.

  Her hands dampened again. She desired the truth more than ever, but opposing visions—one of her mother greeting her with open arms and one of her scowling and sending her away—had invaded her dreams for weeks.

  Could she handle a second rejection? One that was certain, not softened by doubt and speculation?

  Becca sighed. If there was any chance her parents still wanted her, she had to find them. She wouldn’t be content to live the rest of her life and never know.

  A feminine gasp made her open her eyes. She gaped. The well-dressed lady at the counter stood in front of her now. “Charlotte?”

  Eyes wide and face leeched of color, her friend stared at her as if she drawn a gun and held up the store. “B—B—Becca?”

  Joyful tears burned the backs of her eyes. “It’s me.”

  “But— But you...”

  “Should be dead. I know.”

  Charlotte swallowed, and her skin turned a faint shade of gray.

  Becca’s breath hitched. “I’ve missed you.” She stepped forward and gave Charlotte a hug, hoping the trail dust that clung to her garments wouldn’t taint the emerald taffeta dress her friend was wearing.

  Charlotte’s body stayed rigid, and Becca regretted her impulsiveness. She should have known better than to go near her in such grimy clothes.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” her friend whispered. She lifted her arms and patted Becca on the back. It wasn’t a hearty hug full of feeling, but it was familiar. It was Charlotte.

  “Well,” Charlotte said, pulling away and brushing the front of her dress, “You probably have quite a story to tell. How long have you been in town?”

  “Not long. Seth and I just arrived.”

  “Who’s Seth?”

  “Seth Emerson, the man who found me and brought me to California.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At the livery.”

  Charlotte fingered her fiery, upswept hair and eyed Becca from head to toe, making her feel like a street urchin in her mended clothes and adolescent braid. She chewed the edge of her lip, then glanced around the shop. The starched bow on her flat-brimmed hat barely shifted with the movement. “You and I should talk.” She took Becca by the hand and led her to a blue velvet settee located in an out-of-the-way corner. “Have you seen your parents?”

  “No,” Becca said as they sat down, thankful they were the only ones in the store. “I haven’t found Nathan yet either. Do you know where they are?” Charlotte shook her head. “Nathan and his family settled in another town. I’m not sure which one. And I haven’t seen your parents since shortly after we arrived in California. They broke off from the train and went their own way.”

  “Oh.” Becca’s heart sank. “I was hoping to find them by Christmas.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re here. What happened?”

  “I returned from my walk and found the wagons gone. When no one came back for me, I used the junk people left by the trail to make a shelter, and then I sifted through the trunks and crates until I found the things I needed to care for myself.” She exhaled a breath and shrugged. “I made do.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “A little over a year.”

  Charlotte’s lips parted in a look of reserved horror.

  “Seth found me in September, and then we left in October. It’s taken us over two months to get here.”

  “I didn’t think trains traveled this time of year.”

  “They don’t. We traveled alone.”

  “You spent months on the trail—alone with a man?” Charlotte stared at her with such stunned revulsion, Becca suddenly pictured all the passengers of the train glaring at her the same way.

  She hid her discomfiture behind a neutral expression. “Yes. But we... we’re friends. Nothing more.”

  The tilt of Charlotte’s head and the set of her mouth said she didn’t buy it.

  So what? Becca didn’t really care. She straightened her spine and bolstered herself. Charlotte might not know the whereabouts of Nathan or her parents, but she’d traveled with them all the way to California. It was time for answers. “What happened that day? Why didn’t you come find me and tell me the wagons were leaving?”

  Charlotte’s air of superiority vanished. Despite her elegant posture and fancy clothes, she looked decidedly uncomfortable. “The men cleared the rocks off the trail faster than expected. As soon as I realized we were packing up to move, I told your ma where you’d gone.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “No. I expected her to be upset with both of us, but she just thanked me and said she’d take care of it.”

  Becca’s gaze grew unfocussed. It didn’t make any sense. Her father might have kept his feelings to himself, but her mother would have been livid.

  “There’s more.” Charlotte’s slender fingers touched the jewel-encrusted brooch at her throat. Her hand returned to her lap and grasped the cinch of her beaded reticule. �
�This isn’t easy to tell you, but it’s something I feel you should know.

  “When it was time to leave, your pa told us to go ahead without them and they would catch up. My mother sent me to take some bread to Mrs. Godfrey. She needed help looking after her daughters, so I stayed and walked with them a while. When we passed your parents’ wagon, your ma was unloading ration barrels and moving them to the side of the trail.”

  Becca pushed words out, but they were a strangled whisper. “Where was my pa?”

  “I don’t know. I assumed he went to find you.”

  No. All the air in the room evaporated.

  “I’m sorry, Becca,” Charlotte said as she reached out and touched the tattered sleeve of her coat. “I didn’t make the connection until later.”

  Becca pressed a hand to her stomach. The coffee and biscuits she’d eaten for breakfast were about to come up. Why had she let Seth convince her to hope? She should have believed what she saw all along. She should have stayed in the cave. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Oh dear.” Charlotte scooted a few inches away. Her hands twisted the strap of her purse, and she shifted on the cushion as though she might bolt.

  Becca swallowed back foul-tasting liquid as waves of pain and anger surged up her throat. “What did they say?”

  Charlotte stared at her with big round eyes. “Who?”

  “My parents. What excuse did they give for my disappearance?”

  Charlotte blinked and fingered her brooch again. “Well, when they caught up with the train later that evening, they said you were asleep in the wagon. I figured you were tired from exploring... and probably shamed by a good scolding,” she added with a sheepish look, “so I didn’t give it a second thought. No one else did either. The next morning, your ma discovered you were missing when people started asking after you.”

  Tears begged for release, but Becca wouldn’t let them fall. “Did anyone go looking for me?”

  “Of course! The captain sent out scouts two days in a row. When they didn’t find you, he organized a search of the entire train.”

  “And?”

  “Well...” Charlotte’s lashes lowered along with her voice. “Some of your belongings were found in Melvin Cantwell’s wagon.”