“Rebecca.” He hugged her so tightly, his arms squeezed the air from her lungs. “When we couldn’t find you, I thought—” His voice broke and he held her tighter. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” he whispered.
“It’s me,” Becca choked out, clutching him just as fiercely. “It’s me.”
They held each other for a long time, her fingers gripping fistfuls of his coat and his arms wrapping her so completely, they blocked out the light. His breathing eased, and then it roughened again. He turned his face into her hair, and his teeth ground together. “Did Melvin...” He swallowed audibly. “Did he hurt you?”
Becca’s heart broke. Not only had her father lived all this time thinking she was dead, he’d lived with a worse lie, too. “No one hurt me, Pa. Mr. Cantwell had nothing to do with my disappearance.”
He pulled back. “But we found your things in his wagon.”
“I know.” She drew a deep breath and gave him a watery smile. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything over supper. That is, if you’ll have us.”
“Of course, you can stay.” He hugged her again, then lifted his head and looked over her shoulder.
That simple gesture sent Becca’s mind racing right along with her heart. What would her father think of Seth? Would he be angry that she married without asking him first?
Steeling herself for a possible scolding, she led him to the other two men who were blinking and clearing their throats. “Pa, this is Seth Emerson... my husband.”
Seth smiled and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Garvey.”
Her father didn’t move.
“Pa,” she prompted, “Seth is the one who rescued me and brought me to California.”
The starch left his shoulders. He clasped Seth’s hand and wrapped it with his other. “Same to you, Seth,” he said as they shook. Moisture gathered along the edges his lids. “Thank you for—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Becca glanced at the house and tried to quell her growing apprehension. Her mother had always been vigilant, with senses that bordered on preternatural. Even from the farthest reaches of the cellar, she could hear a wagon long before it reached the yard. The fact she hadn’t been the first one to greet them... “How’s Ma?”
Something in her pa’s expression shifted. His eyes took on a pitying curve, the way they had when her favorite colt took ill. “Your ma has been through a lot, Rebecca. She’s not the same woman you remember. Your return is going to be a shock to her. I’ll need to prepare her before she sees you.”
At her father’s urging, she and Seth followed him to the house, careful to soften their steps as they ascended the porch. Silently, they filed into the foyer and hung up their coats and hats.
Becca’s spirit sagged at what she saw. A layer of dust coated every surface, and the windows were so dingy she could barely see out. The rugs were caked with dirt, and the floor looked like it hadn’t been scrubbed in months. The mother she knew would never neglect her house like this.
She turned back to her pa.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll call for you when she’s ready.” He touched an index finger to his lips and went through a doorway on her right.
Becca eased forward in the direction her father had gone. She clamped a hand over her mouth and blinked back tears when she laid eyes on her mother.
Wearing a faded brown dress, she sat at the kitchen table, totally motionless. Her back was to them, but her face reflected in the window above the sink—a murky portrait of graying hair, lifeless eyes, hollow cheeks. Something more brutal than time had aged her.
Fighting for control of her emotions, Becca retreated. Her back met Seth’s solid chest almost immediately, and she turned into his waiting embrace.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured near her ear. “If the effect you had on your pa is any indication, your return will render healing to your ma.”
If the shock doesn’t kill her first.
Becca blinked and looked up into her husband’s face. She so wanted to believe him.
She dried her cheeks and crept back in time to see her pa round the table and pull out a chair.
“Oh... Levi,” her ma said, emerging from her daze. “Is it time for supper already?”
“No, no.” He lowered himself into the seat. “I came in because I have something to tell you, some news.” Her father had always been a devoted husband, but the way he looked at her mother ruined all Becca’s attempts to stem the flow of tears. When he took her ma’s hand in both of his and smiled, his loving tenderness was as undeniable as the salty rivers running down her face. “Do you remember when our daughter went missing?”
“Emily?”
His chest rose and fell with a measured breath, but the love in his eyes never faltered. “No, not Emily.” The softness of his voice didn’t either. “I’m speaking of Rebecca, the daughter we lost on the trail.”
Becca waited for a word, a wail, a hitch in her mother’s breath—something.
Nothing but apathetic silence filled the room.
The woman who’d borne her and raised her for nigh eighteen years sat there as though he’d mentioned something insignificant.
The hope Becca had clung to for months drained away, and her throat went as dry as the dirt on the trail. Rejection wasn’t the worst thing she faced.
Seth’s hand closed over her shoulder, and, for the first time since this odd conversation began, her father’s countenance wavered.
“You remember Rebecca,” he said, regaining his composure. “She got lost while we were traveling to California. She...” Something glimmered in his expression—the look he got whenever he conceived the solution to a problem and his thoughts abruptly changed course. “She found a way back to us, Martha.”
“She did?”
“Yes.” He leaned closer, conspiratorial almost. “Would you like to see her?”
“Well, I...” Her mother tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and glanced at the cluttered counters. “I’m not fit to receive guests.”
Seth’s fingers tightened and Becca pressed a hand to her trembling lips.
“Rebecca won’t mind,” Pa said. “She’s not pretentious that way. Never has been.”
“Oh, all right,” her mother relented.
He lifted his head. “Rebecca, would you come in, please?”
Seth squeezed her shoulder once more. He slid his hand downward and flattened it against the small of her back. “Go,” he whispered. “I’ll wait here.”
The legs of her father’s chair scraped the floor, and he stood, waiting.
Becca swiped the moisture from her face and straightened her spine. However her mother received her, she’d make the best of it.
She treaded softly as she entered the kitchen. Her hands tingled and numbness weighted her limbs. Her throbbing heart lay heavy in her chest, but she managed to lift the corners of her lips as she walked to the end of the table and turned around. “Hello, Ma.”
Her mother slowly rose. A crease formed between her brows, and her tired eyes regarded Becca like those of a long lost acquaintance struggling to place a face. “Something’s... different.”
Becca glanced at her pa, but his expression gave nothing away.
She looked down at her clothes and brushed her fingers over the cloth. The brown wool skirt and white cotton blouse were garments her mother had made—the same ones she was wearing the day she was left. The skirt had been mended in places and the sleeves of her blouse had thinned at the elbows, but the outfit was still recognizable.
Her fingers traced upward from her waist, along the line of tiny buttons, and closed around the tip of her collar. “It must be my hair,” she said, meeting her mother’s gaze. “I’ve started wearing it up.”
Her ma tilted her head, still lost in her musing. A smile curved her lips and further crinkled the skin around her eyes—eyes that suddenly glowed like newly sparked kindling. “Rebecca. I’ve been looking all over for
you, child. Where have you been?”
Becca choked back a sob and stepped into her mother’s outstretched arms. “I was lost for a while,” she whispered, trying not to cry. “I— I’ve been looking for you, too.” That battle was forfeited the moment she felt her mother’s bony frame through the muslin of her housedress. Did she also forget to eat?
She wept softly into her mother’s shoulder until the kitchen rumbled with the masculine clearing of throats.
Becca drew away and dried her face. “Ma, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She motioned to Seth, who still lurked in the hall. Cautiously at first, he entered the room and came to stand at her side.
“This is Seth,” she said simply. The rest could wait.
Her mother’s face lit up again. “Hello, Seth.”
His smile was equally warm. “Hello, Mrs. Garvey. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Martha,” Pa said, gaining her mother’s attention, “I invited them to stay and have supper with us.”
Her ma’s eyes lost their sparkle. “How am I going to cook for everyone, Levi?”
“I’ll come back in a couple of hours and help you.”
Becca pinched folds of her skirt and worried them with her fingers. “That won’t be necessary.” She eyed her husband in silent question. “Seth got a deer yesterday, and we still have rations from the trip.” At his nod of approval, she looked back to her pa. “Let me make supper. I’ll help with the kitchen, too.”
Her father’s lips pressed together. He despised the taking of charity. But they were family, so it wasn’t really charity. His face eased. He’d apparently drawn the same conclusion. “Thank you, Rebecca.” He pushed his chair under the table. “Seth, let’s go stable your team. Daylight’s a wastin’ and I’ve got work to do.”
“Yes sir.” Seth followed her pa out of the kitchen. Footsteps trailed off as the men retrieved their outerwear and exited the front door.
Becca smiled at her ma, then stared at the grimy, disheveled kitchen. How she was going to clean it in time to cook the evening meal, she didn’t know.
Levi dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Excellent meal, Rebecca.”
“Yes. Very good, Ma’am,” Augustus seconded.
Both her pa and his hired hand had tucked into their plates and shoveled food into their mouths like starving men. Seth wasn’t far behind. The lot of them had barely sat down and said grace before serving spoons began scraping bottom.
“Thank you. I should have made more,” Becca said for the sake of courtesy. She’d made a feast. “There’s pie,” she added with a lilt in her voice and a lift of her brow.
A chorus of requests went up.
She placed a hand on her mother’s arm to stop her from rising. “I’ll get it. You rest.” Her mother had helped with both the cleaning and the cooking. She was capable of simpler tasks as long as she had someone to remind her of things and prompt her from time to time. Even so, the extra activity had taken its toll.
The conversation remained light through dessert, as it had during supper. Her father’s eyes held endless questions, but he didn’t give them voice. The truth would ravage his heart and kill his appetite. He seemed to know that as well as she.
Once the pie was gone, Becca summoned her courage and told her story. Emotions assaulted her pa as she recounted the last sixteen months of her life. She knew his rigid posture and distorted face showed but a fraction of the pain and rage he felt inside. She grieved her mother’s affliction. But, for this, it was a merciful protection.
Becca reached across the table and covered her father’s fist with her hand. “I’ve been wronged—we all have—and my life didn’t go as planned, but I found you again. And” —she managed a smile for Seth— “a good man found me.”
Seth had been holding her other hand under the table the whole time. His work-roughened fingers squeezed hers.
Outwardly, her father’s ire cooled, but embers of hatred smoldered in his eyes. Just as with her, his hunger for vengeance would burn for a very long time.
“Levi?” her ma said in a quiet voice. “I’m not sure what to do?”
“About what, sweetheart?”
“About our guests. I readied the spare room for Rebecca, but where is Seth going to sleep?”
Augustus choked on his coffee.
“One room is enough,” Becca murmured to her ma. The men sported bright pink cheeks. If the feel of hers was any clue, they must be absolutely flaming.
Her father shoved his chair back. “C’mon, Gus. Let’s finish up evenin’ chores.”
Gus was on his feet before the last word was out. Seth was already standing. She’d never seen three men in such a rush to quit a room.
Gus paused in front of her, his embarrassment replaced with a different kind of unease. “You’re a brave woman, Mrs. Emerson—braver than a lot’a men I know. I’m sorry for all you went through.” He looked down at the toe of his boot, then struggled to meet her gaze. “And I’m sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived. You, too Mr. Emerson. I, uh...”
“You were protecting my parents, Mr. Lassiter. No apology necessary.”
Soft lamplight cast shadows in the valley of Seth’s back as he peeled his undershirt off over his head. Becca paused from turning down the bed when he bent forward and rinsed in the basin. The expanse of shifting muscle was both arousing and mesmerizing. She’d never tire of the sight.
Gathering the folds of her nightgown in one hand, she braced herself for pain and climbed into bed. Her body listed like a falling tree and landed on the mattress with a poof. She groaned.
Seth twisted around, water dripping from his hair. “You all right?”
Becca clenched her teeth as the sharp spasms in her back and limbs began to fade to cramping aches. “No. I hurt all over.”
He eyed her from underneath the towel as he dried himself, a grin slowly forming. “What happened to my tough little rabbit? You used to work circles around me.”
She stuck out her tongue at him and regretted it. Even that simple movement hurt.
He chuckled and removed his trousers. His chest still quivered with a deep rumble as he crossed the room and climbed in next to her.
Becca poked out her lower lip. “It isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not.” Then why was he still laughing?
He reached for her and she pulled away. Ouch.
Seth tilted his head and gave her his most irresistible look of contrition.
She tried to steel herself against his charms, but it was no use. She sighed and forgave him with her eyes.
He reached for her again, but instead of gathering her to his chest like he usually did, he nudged her shoulder as if to push her away. “Turn and face the window.” With a frown and a groan, she did as he said.
His large hands wrapped around her shoulders and his strong fingers began kneading her muscles. One by one, he turned them from stubborn lumps of dough to pats of melting butter.
Ohhhh—mmmmmmm.
His chest rumbled again. She must’ve moaned out loud.
He nudged her on over to her stomach and moved his ministrations to her lower back. Her eyes drifted closed.
“Don’t fall asleep. I’m next.”
“I thought big stromng men didm’t get sore mufsles,” she mumbled into the pillow.
“When they’re trying to please their new father-in-law, they do.”
She turned her face to the side. “Is that why you were in such a rush to help with evening chores?”
“Huh?”
“You jumped up from the table faster than Gus.” Out the corner of her eye, she glimpsed him shake his head in amusement.
“That wasn’t bootlicking, Becca. It was self-preservation. Your ma had just brought to mind the image of the two of us in bed together. I jumped up so I could get out of the way in case your father took a swing at me.”
Becca frowned and rose up on her elbow. “Why would he do that? We’re married.”
“Trus
t me.” Seth patted her backside. “When it comes to a man’s daughter, that doesn’t always matter.”
He stretched out on his stomach and crossed his arms, hugging his pillow and wedging it under his chest. Becca placed her hands on his back. She tried them at different angles, but none of the positions gave her any leverage.
There was only one thing to do. She’d just have to sit on him.
Bunching the hem of her gown, she rose up on her knees and straddled Seth’s narrow hips. They were surprisingly thick. She tried to give his muscles the same treatment he’d given hers, but her hands were sore. Besides cooking and cleaning the kitchen—both before and after supper—she’d swept the floors and dusted the parlor. It was going to take a solid week, at least, to properly scour the house... if Seth was willing to stay.
He squirmed underneath her, lightly bouncing her on his behind. “I like you there, rabbit. It gives me all kinds of ideas.”
Wha—! “You’re incorrigible.”
“Yes, I am. And I’m facing the wrong way for what I have in mind.”
She swatted the bulge of muscle just below his shoulder blade and scolded him again; but, in truth, she liked his playful side. Their wedding night had been overshadowed by doubt and fear and the distressing events of the day, and all their couplings since had been tender but solemn. She was ready for happier times, both inside the bedroom and out.
Becca climbed off his sturdy frame and stretched out on her side, smirking at his groan of disapproval. “What if my father were to hear us?” she teased. Not likely—they were upstairs and her parents were down. “He might bust in and punch you.”
The corner of Seth’s mouth lifted, but not for long. He sighed and flipped to his back. “He may hang me from the highest tree, but it won’t be for that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He glanced at her sideways. “Nothing. Come here.” He slipped an arm under her neck, then he nudged her closer and tugged the covers up over them. His lower body smelled of horses and hay, but the scent of soap lingered on his chest. “How’d things go with your Ma?”
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