But there was no time.
Wrapped in a blind fury, her father continued to beat her. With fists and boots, he attacked her, avenging himself for all the times she'd defied him.
She cried out. Whimpered. Begged. Tried to crawl away. But he wouldn't be denied. Not this time. His fists and feet slammed into her body over and over again and finally all she could do was curl up, hoping to make herself as small a target as possible.
Dirt bit into her cheek. Stones scraped her skin. Tears pooled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She curled her fingers into the ground, tearing at the wisps of grass still clinging to the frosthardened earth.
She couldn't draw a breath. Her lungs clamored for air she couldn't provide. Sunlight from heaven shone down on her as she lay helpless on the ground, a captive to the misery tearing through her.
And then, like a blessing, the torment stopped. She felt the blows continue to land. But there was no more pain.
How odd.
She drifted away from the poor huddled girl lying at her father's feet. Absently, she watched as a crowd of men, all dressed in the same Puritan garb as her father, gathered around them, shouting encouragement, urging him to beat his daughter into submission.
And she didn't care.
She looked at the girl curled up in the dirt and knew none of it mattered anymore. The pain, the longing, the deep well of sadness that was as much a part of her as her thick black hair, were all gone. In their place was a warmth like none she'd ever known before.
Patience smiled to herself and enjoyed the sense of freedom racing through her. A voice called to her then and she turned, searching for the source. Her back to the crowd still thirsting for vengeance, she watched a brilliant, shimmering light form directly in front of her. It pulsed with warmth, with welcome, and the heart of it reached out to her.
She took a step toward it and stopped, looking behind her one last time. But the people and the village were already clouded in mist. Images blurred and were swallowed by the light encompassing her.
Comfort radiated through her and Patience felt the incredible sense of belonging. Here she was wanted. Here she was appreciated. Here —
A voice, familiar; soft, whispered, "It's time to come home, now. Remember, Patience, remember —“
The crash of sound woke her and she jumped from the rocker in response. Outside, the wind caught a loose shutter and slammed it against the wall. Startled, she slapped one hand to her chest.
"Remember; Patience, remember…"
Blinking, breathing hard, she whirled around in a circle, searching for the source of that voice.
But there was no one there.
She was alone.
The voice seemed to echo over and over again in her mind, teasing, taunting. Memory rushed in but was gone so quickly, it left her with nothing to grab on to. She knew that she should recognize that voice.
But one part of her turned away from that recognition. It was almost as if she were afraid to remember.
And that made no sense whatsoever. "I'm certainly not afraid of anything," she said and pretended not to notice that she sounded a bit less than convincing.
But it wasn't just the voice that worried her. It was that dream. It was too real. The people too familiar. The pain almost palpable.
The shutter slammed into the wall one more time, and her heart still racing, she went outside, following the noise that had awakened her. After she'd fixed the loose shutter and bolted it closed, she turned her face into the frigid wind, hoping to blow the last lingering wisps of that dream out of her mind for good.
A wall of gray clouds covered the sky, and as she stared heavenward, the first few snowflakes fell, whipped by the wind that seemed fierce enough to pick up the little cabin and carry it away.
But it wasn't strong enough to chase off the remainders of her dream. The images were still with her.
And standing there in the blast of chill air, Patience knew the cold she felt went far deeper than the weather.
#
"Snow."
Brady squinted into the sudden snowstorm and cursed the luck. By afternoon, slate-gray clouds had rolled in to completely cover the sun and sky. Wind roared across the desert, picking up sand and stones to pelt the poor folks who found themselves scurrying to get to shelter.
And Patience was out there… somewhere.
Another knot of worry dropped down his throat and bounced in the pit of his stomach. He reached up to tug his hat down more firmly on his head, then dipped the brim to block some of the wind.
"She doesn't even have a damn coat," he muttered thickly and stepped off the boardwalk.
Loping across the street, dodging the occasional rider, and easing past a freight wagon, he jumped up onto the boardwalk that ran in front of the Mercantile. Pausing briefly, he glanced through the wide front window into the heart of the store.
Treasure hadn't spoken to him since their little showdown in the saloon. And truth to tell, he hadn't exactly been sad about that. After all, the women in town were making their menfolk so miserable, Brady'd counted himself fortunate to be single.
But that was then. He didn't have a choice now, he told himself. With this storm blowing up, he had to find Patience. For her own sake. Hell, she was crazy. Someone had to look out for her.
Nodding to himself, he kept that virtuous thought firmly in mind as he stepped up to the front door and pushed it open.
The bell overhead jumped and clanged and Brady took a moment to scowl at it. Damned irritating sound. He snatched off his hat and slapped it against his thigh.
“Well, well, well," Treasure said from her seat behind the counter. "Look who's decided to do that crawlin' after all.”
His spine stiffened and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from arguing with the woman. Instead, he steeled himself to be calm and reasonable. "Treasure, I need to know where Patience is."
"I expected you before this," the older woman said and pushed her bulk up and out of her chair. Leaning her elbows on the gleaming counter, she propped her rounded chin in her hands and watched him. "Miss her, do you?"
More than he'd admit to her, he thought. But that wasn't the point.
"There's a storm building up out there," he told her, jerking a thumb in the direction of the window. "Patience shouldn't be out in it alone."
Treasure didn't even blink. "What makes you think she's alone?"
A spurt of completely irrational jealousy shot through him, though he'd never confess to it. Still, apparently, she could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face, because she took pity on him.
Pity. For him. That was galling as hell. He shifted uneasily beneath her stare.
"Don't get your long johns all bunched up," she said, shaking her head. "For heaven's sake. Brady, a fool could see you care for the girl."
"I care about her," he said tightly. “There's a difference."
Hell, he didn't want to see her freeze to death in a freak snowstorm. That didn't mean he loved her, for God's sake.
"You are the hardest-headed man…” She sighed and shook her head wearily.
"Are you going to tell me where she is?"
"She asked us not to," Lily said and walked down the stairs to join them.
Brady half turned to look at her. "That was before this storm blew up. It's bad and getting worse, Lily. Do you really want her out there in it all by herself?"
The woman's soft heart shone in her eyes and Brady took his first easy breath since walking into the Mercantile. Lily's worry for her friend would outweigh her promise.
"It does look grim out there," Treasure said as the other woman walked over to stand beside the counter.
Lily nodded to herself and thought about it for a long moment. Finally, though, she lifted her gaze to Brady's and stared at him for what seemed forever.
He held his breath, waiting. Damn it, if she turned him down, he didn't have any idea where to start looking for Patience.
And he needed to
find her.
"I swear to God, Brady,” Lily said, giving him a glare that was sharp enough to slice a man clean to the bone. "If you make her cry again, I'll hunt you down like a dog and shoot you myself."
"And I'll load the gun," Treasure assured him.
His fingers curled into the brim of his hat and held on tight. He'd be damned if he'd stand here and defend himself to a couple of mother hens.
“I’m not looking to make her cry," he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. "I just want to make sure she's safe."
The two women looked at each other briefly before turning back to him.
Lily said, "All right, then. I'll tell you."
And Brady felt the first stirrings of relief.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Remember.
Patience picked up the bread dough and slapped it down onto the tabletop. Shoving her fists into the sticky mass, she kneaded, using the tension coiled inside her for strength. Again and again, her fists pounded the dough in a rhythm that danced along with the word repeating over and over in her mind.
Remember.
But she didn't want to remember.
"And why would I?" she asked the empty room. After a dream like she'd had, what person in their right mind would want to recall more?
"But then," she whispered, her hands stilling their nervous work, "that's the problem, isn't it?" She wasn't in her right mind. At least, not according to Brady.
She didn't feel crazy. She didn't feel any different than she had yesterday or the day before or the day before that. Nothing had changed. Nothing except for the fact that she'd watched herself die at the hands of a furious Pilgrim. A Pilgrim who was, she knew without a doubt, her father.
And that had to make her crazy, didn't it? A person alive and well in 1880 couldn't possibly have died in the 1600's. Reborn tension tightened her shoulders and fear curled up and settled in the pit of her stomach.
Outside, a storm raged. Inside, oil lamps and a cheerful fire kept the shadows at bay. She was warm and cozy… and alone.
She swallowed hard and pulled a shuddering breath into her lungs. Abandoning the mound of dough, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked across the small cabin to the front door. Bracing herself for the bite of the wind, she pulled the door open and stared out at a world she hardly recognized.
White.
There was so much white, it was nearly blinding. Wind-driven snow pelted her face and darted past her, demanding entrance to the cabin. A heavy blanket of gray clouds hung low over the landscape and showed no signs of moving on. A deep, bone-biting cold reached out to her and Patience shivered, one hand clutching the door, keeping it from flying open wider. Behind her, the fire blazed, but staring at the storm, she knew she was cut off from everyone. No one would brave this snow. No one would be coming to see her today.
She would be alone with the memories of the dream that still rattled around inside her mind. And for the first time since leaving Fortune, Patience was frightened.
#
The saloon was empty. No one would be out looking for a drink or a card game today, Brady told himself. At war or not, the families in town would be hunkered down together, waiting out the storm.
Like he should be. But no, what was he doing? He was riding out into what had all the earmarks of a blizzard, to chase down a woman he didn't want. Couldn't want. He lifted his head and stared into the mirror across the room from him. But instead of seeing his own ragged reflection, he looked deeper into the glass and saw the echo of Patience's image.
Something inside him tightened, shifted, and he swallowed hard against the tight knot of an unfamiliar emotion clogging his throat. How had she done it? he wondered. How had she managed to dig herself so deeply into his life in such a short time? How had she taken a perfectly content man and made him into the haggard mess he was now?
And why in the hell was he riding out into the mouth of a storm to go fetch her?
"Because," he muttered, lowering his gaze to the gear stretched out across his bed again, "it's better than sitting here by yourself worrying that she's freezin’ to death."
Calling himself all kinds of a fool, he snatched up his sheepskin coat and shrugged into it, quickly doing up the buttons. Then he checked his saddlebags again, making sure he had everything he wanted to take. When he was satisfied, he slung the saddlebags across one shoulder, grabbed the extra blankets rolled up on his bed, and slammed his hat down low onto his forehead. Instinctively, he dropped his right hand to the holster at his hip, checking to make sure his pistol was where it should be, then, satisfied, he left the room. His bootheels clomped against the wooden floor, sounding like a too rapid heartbeat.
He didn't even glance at the closed doors as he passed them. Fern and Addey were locked away in their rooms, probably enjoying a good rest. And Patience's room was just too empty. He stalked down the long landing to the head of the stairs, then went down in a rush.
At the bottom of the stairs, though, he stopped. Davey stood there, looking for all the world as though he'd lost his best friend. First time in memory that Brady could recall seeing the boy actually looking exactly like what he was. A scared kid.
"You goin' after her?" he asked.
"Yeah," Brady assured him. "I am."
"You figure she's all right?" Davey tossed a quick look over his shoulder at the storm raging just beyond the windows. "It's mean weather."
"It is," Brady said, anxious to be on his way. But staring into the kid's eyes, he knew he had to take an extra minute or two to ease the shadows haunting Davey's gaze. Muffling a sigh, he said, "Don't you worry. I'm sure she's fine. Patience isn't the kind of woman to go all weepy because of a few snowflakes."
"That's true enough," Davey said and a hint of a smile curved his mouth. "She's real brave."
Brady thought about it for a minute and damned if he didn't have to agree. She'd come into town a complete stranger and inside two weeks she'd practically taken over. Brave or crazy, he thought and decided he leaned a bit more toward the "brave" theory.
"Yeah, I guess she is at that," he said aloud. Then something came to him and he asked, "Where are you staying tonight?"
Instantly, the boy stiffened up. Hell, Brady could almost see the defiant, too proud gleam in his eyes that was a perfect match for the independent tilt of his chin. "I got a place."
If it was the place he usually stayed, a straw-filled stall at the livery stable, it wasn't good enough. Brady tried not to push his way into the kid's life. After all, he'd lived that life. And he knew all too well that people butting their noses in weren't welcome.
But there was a damn blizzard blowing up outside and he'd be double damned if he was going to be worrying about Patience and Davey freezing to death.
"I want you to stay here," he said, prepared to do battle the instant Davey's back went up.
It didn't take long.
“Thanks, but —“
"Look," Brady interrupted him, eager now to be off and not willing to leave until he knew the boy was going to be safe. "There's an empty room upstairs. There's plenty of wood for you to have a fire."
"I don't need —“
"You do," Brady snapped and the kid blinked at the forcefulness of his tone. Sighing, Brady said, "Sometimes you just have to let your friends help you, Davey."
The boy gave it some thought. In fact, Brady was pretty sure he could see the wheels in the boy's brain turning as he considered his options. A breezy stall in a half-frozen bam and keeping his independence… or a cozy bed with a fire and being beholden to somebody.
Jesus. Two years he'd known this boy and he still had to fight him to take anything that even resembled a handout.
Exasperated, Brady finally blurted out, "Do it as a favor to me, all right?"
"Huh?" He swung that hair back out of his eyes and looked up.
Thinking fast, Brady searched his brain and came up with an explanation that just might work. "I'd feel better about leaving Addey and Fern alone he
re if there was a man in the place."
Davey blinked at him, but obviously the notion appealed to him. It would have been laughable under any other circumstances, Brady thought. Hell, Fern and Addey were tough enough to take on a grizzly bear and have him dressed out and made into a rug inside a few hours.
But if the little lie was enough to keep Davey safe tonight, then that was good enough for him.
"Well," the boy was saying, "if it'd help you out…”
"It would," Brady said shortly. "You hunker in here till I get back. There's food down here behind the bar and plenty of firewood."
"Yes, sir."
Relieved, Brady nodded and walked toward the door. Davey 's voice stopped him before he could walk through it, though.
"Brady?"
Curbing his impatience to be gone because he heard the strain in the boy's tone, Brady glanced back over his shoulder at him. "Yeah?"
"You're gonna bring her back home, aren't you?”
Home.
That's what Patience had called this place.
Home.
He'd never thought of it like that before. Always it had simply been a place. A place to belong. To stay put. But nothing more.
Now, though… he thought of the emptiness in this place since she'd been gone. His own restlessness. The vague sense of uneasiness that had been his constant companion for the last few days. Patience had changed everything, damn it. He recalled the echo of her laughter haunting him. The feel of her touch. The taste of her kiss.
His body tightened into the now familiar state of complete discomfort he’d grown far too accustomed to.
A groan erupted in his chest, but he refused to let it loose.
"Brady?"
He shook his head and stared at the boy as if seeing him for the first time.
"I said, are you gonna bring her home?"
"You stay put," he said, narrowing his gaze to make his order plain.
"I will," Davey said. Then obviously not about to let his question go unanswered, he prodded, "Well? Are you gonna?"
When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance Page 15