Come Back

by Melissa Maygrove

  “Oh.” She sat back, relieved.

  He eyed her a moment, then picked up his knife and fork. “I know there are a lot of details we need to work out—where we want to settle and such—but those issues are moot until I save up some money.”

  Becca swallowed a sip of coffee. “What about a land grant? Could you get one?”

  “Probably. But it takes money to build a house and stock a farm.”

  The worms churned again, but this time from guilt. “What about your plans... your ranch?”

  He gave a weak smile and sawed at his ham. “Plans change.”

  Becca nudged her eggs again. He’d given up so much for her. It wasn’t fair.

  She set down her fork. “I’ll go with you anywhere. And I don’t need fancy things to be happy—we can live in the wagon if we have to. Or I’ll find another cave. If owning a cattle ranch is your dream, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you achieve it.”

  Seth’s chest rose sharply. He blinked several times and reached for her hand. “My dream is to spend my life with you.”

  His fingers tightened around hers. She smiled and squeezed back.

  His eyes suddenly brimmed with mischief. “I wonder what the neighbors would think if we invited them to a cave.”

  A giggle bubbled from her throat at the same time a chuckle rumbled from his.

  They reached for their forks and went after their food with renewed vigor.

  When they’d polished off the last of their meal, Seth sat back in his chair. “One of the ranchers I worked for after I left home recently relocated to California. His place is only a half a day’s ride from here. He’s a good man to work for, and he pays a fair wage. I thought I’d start there.”

  Becca didn’t relish staying in Blackwater alone, but she’d make do. “When will you go?”

  “I’d like to go today, if you’re up to it.” Seth scanned the area around them. “It’ll mean a full day’s ride with only a break for lunch,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice. “If sitting a horse is too uncomfortable yet, we can wait another day.”

  Warmth filled her cheeks and her heart. “I can ride.”

  Becca tied the tails of her new knitted scarf under her chin. She turned toward Cyrus and prepared to mount.

  “Face me,” Seth said. “Let me help you.”

  She was capable of ascending the saddle herself, but she braced her hands on his shoulders and let him lift her onto the seat.

  He’d hovered and doted all morning, buying her a new coat and scarf, even insisting she wear a set of his woolens under her clothes. Now he was standing in front of her, shielding her body from strangers’ eyes as she hooked her leg over the pommel and adjusted her skirts.

  Becca wished she could ride astride, but only brazen women did that. She’d had her fill of people calling her brazen.

  “Are you comfortable?” Seth asked, handing her the reins.

  Comfortable enough. “Yes.”

  Cyrus shifted on his hooves and answered Zeus’s blow. The horses were as anxious to leave as their riders. Seth swung into his saddle, bid farewell to the liveryman, and led them on their way.

  Becca relaxed and breathed deeply as they cantered across the countryside. Clear skies spanned the horizon, and sunlight warmed her everywhere it touched. The heat of it was welcome in calm cold air.

  When the sun was nearly overhead, Seth stopped at a stream. He surprised her by stealing some kisses, saying he was getting his fill while the horses drank theirs.

  She gently chided him as a proper lady should, then abandoned that insanity. Her fingers gripped his nape and her tongue sought his, turning his chaste kiss into something darker. They both groaned. Hands groped and bodies ground together in a futile effort to get skin against skin. Seth’s hat was knocked from his head, but he gave no notice.

  He finally pulled away, panting. “Damn.” A smile curved his luscious lips. “I shoulda gone swimming instead.”

  “That must be the place,” Seth remarked as they topped a hill and surveyed a sprawling ranch below. A grand farmhouse stood to the right, near a grove of leafless trees, surrounded by acres and acres of rolling pasture.

  Becca kept her horse in step beside his, but her attention was on the men working in the many corrals. Some trained horses while others tended beeves. A few sat on the rails, watching.

  “Stick close and keep control of your mount,” Seth said. “The fact I have a woman with me should allay some of their fears, but they’re going to be wary of us. We need to take it slow.”

  Sure enough, two armed men approached on horseback, reins in one hand and rifles in the other.

  “Stop,” one of them called once they were close enough to be heard.

  Seth reined Zeus to a halt and slowly raised a hand in greeting.

  “You’re on private land,” the other said with a hard edge to his tone. It matched the callous regard of his narrowed eyes.

  Seth gave an acknowledging nod. “Name’s Seth Emerson. I’m here to see Peter Dixon.”

  The men glanced at each other.

  “He’s not expecting anyone,” the first one said.

  “There wasn’t time to get word to him before my visit,” Seth replied, “but he knows me.”

  Becca shivered when the brusque man shifted his gaze and stared at her.

  “Who’s she?”

  “She’s my wife.” Seth waited long moments. Neither man spoke. Did the air around him feel as heavy as it did to her? “All I ask is that you let him know I’m here.”

  The solemn man said something to the surly one.

  His lips curled back over his teeth as though he’d eaten something bad. He spun his horse around and rode away.

  The remaining man eased his horse closer and laid his rifle across his lap. “I’m Amos Yates. I apologize for Percy’s manners, Mr. Emerson... ma’am.” He tipped his hat to Becca. “Tensions are still running high from the war. We’ve had everything from raids to rustlers. Everyone is suspect.”

  “I understand.”

  “You said you know Peter.”

  Zeus snorted and Seth gave him a pat. “I worked for him a few years ago, in Ohio.”

  Yates lifted his chin in acknowledgement, but said nothing more.

  The unwelcome silence dragged on. Becca smoothed her skirt, then patted Cyrus on the neck. Her fingers brushed along her shoulder, seeking a familiar tuft of hair but finding only the point of her coat collar. She lowered her hand to her lap and plastered on a pleasant expression.

  Percy finally returned, the same bad taste twisting his mouth. “Dixon says let ’em come.”

  A tall man, whose gray eyes matched the patches of hair above his ears, crossed the yard as Seth helped her down from her mount. “Good to see you,” he said as he shook Seth’s hand. “I couldn’t believe it when Percy told me you were here. And married,” he added, looking to Becca with a delighted smile.

  “Peter, this is my wife, Rebecca.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Emerson.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to meet you, too, Mr. Dixon. Seth speaks very highly of you.”

  “Oh he does, does he?” Peter chuckled “He gave you the bowdlerized version, then.” The mirth faded as he lifted his head and looked past them, scanning the horizon. “Nicky’ll see to your horses.” He indicated a towheaded youth who was already gathering reins. “Let’s get you folks inside.”

  Peter led them up the porch’s steps and into the parlor of the ranch house. The interior was large and furnished, but rustic—all iron and leather and wood. It lacked a woman’s touch.

  After taking their coats, he gestured to a grouping of chairs near the fireplace and invited them to sit. It was obvious Peter knew this wasn’t a social visit, and just as obvious he’d been called away from his work, but he was mannered enough to make small talk for a time.

  “So, how’d you two meet,” he asked, leaning back and resting the ankle of one boot on the opposite knee.

  Seth glanced at
Becca and she gave a small nod. “Quite literally, I found her,” he said. “She’d gotten separated from the wagon train she was traveling with and had managed to survive in the wilderness of New Mexico Territory for over a year.”

  Peter gaped.

  “I was traveling alone and got thrown,” Seth continued as his friend recovered. “She graciously took me in and put up with me long enough to nurse me back to health.”

  A grin split Peter’s lips. “She must love you, then, Emerson. When you’re hurt, you’re a surly sonuvagun.”

  A throat cleared to Becca’s left. A young man stood in the archway leading to the kitchen. He was dressed like one of the hands. “Lunch is ready,” he said to Peter. “I brought some sandwiches and set the table for you and your guests.”

  “Thank you, Lucas.”

  Lucas nodded and appraised the group, his deep blue eyes lingering on Becca long enough to raise a tingle of alarm. Dragging his gaze away, he reached for his hat, settled it over his shiny black hair, and walked out the door.

  Becca stared at the exit for a long moment after he left. Had his undue attention caused the flutter in her stomach and the sudden weight on her heart, or was it the fact he looked so much like Nathan?

  “Where’s Ruth?” Seth asked Peter. “Is she well?”

  “She’s fine. She’s still in Ohio. I’d planned to send for her once I got the house built, but things here are still too unstable.” He and Seth exchanged a look. “Mrs. Emerson,” Peter said, rising, “if I set out the things you need, could I impose upon you to make us some coffee?”

  “Certainly. I’d be glad to.”

  Once he’d settled her in the kitchen, Peter excused himself. Becca watched through the window above the sink as he walked with Seth to a spot across the yard. She wished she could hear what they were saying.

  Peter spoke to Seth for a while, then listened intently, nodding his head from time to time. His expression was not unkind when he replied, but his overall bearing was serious. When Seth’s shoulders sagged, so did her spirits. He’d been turned down for the job.

  Becca turned away from the window and pasted on a smile.

  Peter waited with her on the porch while Seth readied the horses. She tugged on her gloves and tied her scarf around her head. “Thank you for lunch, Mr. Dixon.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” He glanced in Seth’s direction. “Your husband asked me for a job,” he said in a lower voice, “and I don’t want you to think any less of him for me telling him no. I’d hire Seth on the spot if I could. Not only is he a good friend, he’s one of the best hands I ever had.

  “As I told him, things are still dangerous in California. Towns are fairly safe, so are small homesteads. But big operations like mine are targets because the ranchos see us as a threat. I’ve been forced to hire more men to provide security than I have working the livestock. I simply can’t afford to hire anyone else.”

  “I understand.”

  He offered his arm and walked with her into the yard. Armed men on horseback now formed a loose circle around the house.

  Fear slithered through Becca’s veins at the same time guilt swept her conscience. They’d been moved here to protect her, but they were also here because of her. By visiting, she’d made the whole of Peter’s ranch less safe.

  “Thank you for the hospitality,” Seth said as he shook his friend’s hand.

  “It was good to see you.” Peter pulled him into a backslapping hug that was a heartfelt as his words. “Lucas will ride with you as far as the creek,” he said as the two of them released each other. “After that, you’ll be close enough to town to travel alone.”

  “You don’t need to send—”

  “Save your words, Seth. I do, and it’s done.”

  Seth pressed his lips together and drew a slow breath. “Thank you.” The set of his jaw eased. “Give Ruth our best.”

  “I will, next time I write. She’ll be so sorry she missed your visit.” Peter’s warm eyes settled on Becca. “She would have loved meeting you, Mrs. Emerson.”

  “I would have enjoyed meeting her, too.”

  Seth helped her to mount as he’d done before they left town. He climbed on Zeus and flanked her right side as Lucas took his position on her left.

  As the horses began to walk, Becca looked back at Peter standing in the yard, his broad shoulders squared and his eyes fixed on them as they left. He’d treated them with the manners of a nobleman while wearing farmer’s clothes. His bearing was no less refined. He was undeniably a gentleman—a spot of elegance and culture amidst a savage land.

  She faced forward again, staying between her escorts and letting her mount have his way. Their ambling pace didn’t change, even after they reached the edge of Peter’s land. If the men were holding back on her account, they needn’t bother. She was tired and sore, but she was no weakling. The events of the day—of her life, for that matter—were piling up and kindling a flare of rebellion. She wanted control. And she wanted to get back to the safety of town as soon as possible.

  Becca urged Cyrus into a gallop and silently dared the men to keep up.

  Moments later, hooves pounded the ground behind her, and they flanked her again.

  Ignoring them, Becca leaned forward and tightened her thighs on the pommels as Cyrus leapt over narrow streams and fallen logs with a grace that belied his size. Despite the danger of their location, she reveled in the exhilaration of flying over the land. She might not ride astride, but she could ride. Well.

  “Rebecca,” Seth called, breathing as hard as the horses.

  “Ma’am, slow down.”

  A half a mile later, she growled in the back of her throat and complied. Seth was frowning at her; so was Lucas.

  “Are you scared?” Seth asked.

  She was, but she gave him a look to the contrary—more like made a face.

  “Ma’am.” She turned her head in Lucas’s direction. “Going too fast can be as dangerous as going too slow.”

  Becca bit the inside of her lip to keep from rolling her eyes. “I’m capable of keeping myself in the saddle.”

  “I have no doubt of that, ma’am. That’s not what I meant. I was sent along to protect you. I can’t watch our surroundings if I’m racing through them at breakneck speed.”

  He had a point.

  She faced forward and resigned herself to letting the men set the pace.

  About a half a mile later, Seth turned a less than friendly look in Lucas’s direction.

  Out the corner of her other eye, she saw Lucas studying her. She faced him full on and he looked away. A few minutes later, he did it again, and then a few minutes later, again.

  For a man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on things around him, he wasn’t doing a very good job.

  Becca shrugged inwardly. It didn’t matter. The creek lay over the next rise.

  Zeus slowly dropped back half a length. He shot forward and whipped around in front of her so fast, Cyrus snorted and tossed his head. By the time she’d calmed him, Zeus stood nose to nose with Lucas’s horse.

  Seth glared at its rider with an expression so fierce, it could melt solid steel. “Would you like to tell me what you find so interesting about my wife?”

  Lucas held up his hands. “I meant no offense.” He looked at Becca, then thought better of it and averted his gaze. “Truly, ma’am, I apologize. I...”

  “You what?” Seth practically breathed fire.

  Lucas drew a breath so deep, his shoulders sagged with the exhale. “Ma’am,” he said, raising his eyes to Becca’s, “is your maiden name Garvey?”

  She blinked.

  “What business is it of yours?” Seth growled.

  Lucas held her gaze. “Is it?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed.

  He gave Seth a tentative look. “I overheard you tell Mr. Dixon your wife had been left behind by a train. That was the only reason for my interest, I swear. I just wondered if she was the one.”

  Seth looked from
Lucas to Becca and back again. He stared the man down for a whole new reason. “What do you know?”

  Lucas’s horse shifted under him as he sized up his audience. “Mid-August last year, I was hired to provide extra security for a train headed for California. The captain said there’d been trouble, that a young woman had disappeared under suspicious circumstances.”

  Seth shot Becca a look. “Did they ever determine who was at fault?”

  Becca clutched fistfuls of skirt to keep her clammy hands from shaking.

  “I heard some of her belongings were found in a man’s wagon, but...”

  “You were traveling with them,” Seth pressed. “Surely you know more than that.”

  “I heard a lot of things—true, but hearsay isn’t proof.” Lucas grimaced and shook his head. “You know how it is on the train. There was more rumor and innuendo flying around than dirt in a dust storm. I didn’t know who to believe.”

  Seth frowned. “What about her parents?”

  “What about ’em?”

  “How did they seem to you?”

  “Well...” Lucas’s horse shifted under him again. “I spent most of my time on forward patrol, but the few times I saw them, they looked” —he lifted a shoulder and let it fall— “sad.”

  Becca couldn’t stop the derisive note that slipped from her throat.

  Lucas briefly narrowed his eyes. He looked down at his gloved hands resting on his saddle horn, like he was wrestling with his thoughts, then he raised his head and looked right at her. “One night, when I was on watch, I came across your father out in the woods. He was sitting on a fallen log, grieving. I’d never seen a man cry like that before.

  “I figured he went out there to have some privacy, so I left without disturbing him; but I’m telling you, he was a broken man.”

  Becca closed her eyes as some of the ice around her heart fell away. What if it was true? What if her father was innocent? But there was no way to know. He could just as well have been grieving the state of his own soul rather than hers.

  She opened her eyes and kept her heart hard. If she didn’t, she’d fall apart.