Lori Connelly

by The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge

  “I think you should accept the lady’s offer,” The sheriff’s calm voice of reason entered the exchange.

  Seconds passed then, “Fine.”

  “I need to speak to the sheriff first,” Without waiting for agreement, she looked up at the lawman and at last gave voice to her gut-wrenching fear. “Something happened to Ben. I … ”

  Her throat closed. Evie couldn’t continue. Her emotions reactive and raw, tears threatened. She bit down on her bottom lip, struggled to keep control. Sheriff Green dismounted, put a hand on her shoulder. She drew in a shaky breath.

  “Ben rode off and I … ” Evie pulled away. “I … ”

  “Easy ma’am, take your time.”

  “After a time I heard,” Evie paused, drew in a breath. “I thought I heard an argument out here. I came out and … ” She shook her head unable to continue, stepped back and gestured to what she’d found.

  His face a blank mask, Sheriff Green studied the scene for a moment. “You go on home now and I’ll take a look around.”

  “But I-”

  “Can you settle things peacefully with Mr. Talbert?”

  “Ah yes but-”

  “Trust me ma’am, I’m good at my job.” As he walked past Mr. Talbert to his horse, the sheriff addressed him. “Would you escort Mrs. Rolfe home?”

  “I will.”

  “I could use the help of your men.”

  Mr. Talbert frowned, his tone dry, “Of course.”

  Evie watched the three men fan out. She trusted Sheriff Green. He’d tried to work out a fair resolution when the Blakes claimed the wild horses Ben had caught and trained. It wasn’t his fault the judge, a relative of Daniel Blake’s wife, ruled against them.

  Her chest ached with intense pressure. Ben didn’t share her good opinion. He blamed everyone who worked with the law as much as the crooked justice for his loss. Time would tell if she’d done the right thing sending the sheriff after him.

  “Mrs. Rolfe?”

  Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Evie knelt down, picked up Ben’s hat and pressed it to her stomach. Although she wanted to believe he was fine, the bad feeling in her gut persisted.

  “Yes,” Her tone calm, perhaps a little flat.

  “Shall we?”

  Evie nodded then turned, started back toward home without waiting for a response. “What do you want?” She winced as her question emerged sharp, boarded on rude. “Sorry,” she took a breath then tried again. “What would make us square?”

  His tone terse, “I return the horse. You return my money.”

  “How much would that be?”

  His companion named a sum that caused her heart to skip a beat. A lump formed in her throat. “I’m not sure I have that.”

  “I understand your husband spends a lot of time at The Bucking Pony.” His tone held a note of pity.

  Her cheeks heated. “What if you kept the horse?”

  “It’s not worth what I paid.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that it was,” Evie cleared her throat, swallowed the urge to cry. “I was thinking we could work out something for the difference?”

  They walked without speaking for a couple minutes. The quiet undisturbed save for sounds from the horse Mr. Talbert led. Leather creaked, metal jingled and hooves delivered soft thuds against the ground. He took so long to respond her belly hurt.

  At last, he answered simply, “That’s acceptable.”

  “Thank you.” Unwilling to risk saying anything that might change his mind, she held her tongue until they reached her home, “Please excuse me a moment.”

  Evie entered the cabin, leaned the rifle against the wall beside the door and moved to a shelf by the fireplace. Doubt crept in. She paused a second. They’d always kept their money in the large clay jar. Inside should be coin from the sale of Spice and she hoped from the bag she’d seen that morning. One hand crushed Ben’s hat as she reached out with the other, removed the lid. Empty.

  She tried to ignore reason but the stark truth sank in slowly. His hat fell from her nerveless fingers.

  He’d left her with nothing.

  Anger and frustration rose up and muted the worry. Evie wanted to scream or kick something hard yet did neither. The effort to restrain emotion caused her to tremble. It wouldn’t do for Mr. Talbert to see her throw a fit through the open door.

  Pride stiffened her spine. Shoulders back, chin up, Evie stepped back out into the harsh light of day. She looked over at the animal that grazed only yards from the barn. Her eyes closed a second. She owned little of value other than Daisy.

  “Would you consider taking the cow?”

  “The cow?”

  His incredulous tone caused anxiety to well up. Rigid with tension, Evie broke out in a cold sweat. She forced words out past stiff lips, shame ashes in her mouth. “I’m sorry. She’s about all I have. I could throw in a couple chickens.”

  “No,” he studied her awhile. “The cow will be fine.”

  Mouth dry she gave him a quick nod then marched over to the barn. She grabbed a halter and a length of rope. The cow stood placid while she readied her to go. Minutes later Evie handed Daisy over to Mr. Talbert as she blinked rapidly to hold back tears.

  “I’m very sorry about your son, Mr Talbert, about everything.”

  “I believe you are. Your husband on the other hand,” He swung up into his saddle, “Well ma’am, out here we consider a man only as good as his word.”

  Evie winced at the verbal jab but remained polite, “Thank you for accepting the trade.”

  “There seemed little other choice.”

  Heat crept up her neck.

  “I could stay until the sheriff comes back, if you need.”

  Composure held by a thread, her smile stiff, forced, “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Are you certain ma’am?”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  “Very well,” his tone clipped, his brown eyes filled not with the irritation she’d expected but pity, which felt worse. “Good day Mrs. Rolfe.”

  Tense, she watched William Talbert ride away at a slow pace set to accommodate Daisy. Although Evie sensed he’d honor their deal, she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he disappeared from view. In time, she hoped his anger would fade and they could mend fences someday.

  Hours passed. Evie mucked out stalls, tended the chickens, washed dishes and swept the floor. Unable to be still, she then trudged down to the creek and retrieved the sun-dried laundry. She folded clothes, put them away, hung the basket and repaired her clothesline. Even with every conceivable chore completed, she couldn’t relax. She paced outside the window in front of the cabin as the day cooled.

  It’s been so long. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her cloak. Evie looked out to the shadowed lengths of forest. A gentle breeze toyed with loose strands of her hair. Squirrels raced along the split rail fence of the corral. A blue jay called from the barn roof. The peaceful late afternoon was driving her crazy.

  Her angst deepened with each moment that passed. A pair of coyotes emerged from the trees to her left and captured her attention and interest. Frozen, poised to run, they watched her. All at once, she heard the rumble of wheels rolling over earth. Startled, Evie blinked and the animals melted away.

  Her gaze swept to the road, scared and hopeful. She hardly dared to breathe. Minutes crawled by. At last, a team of mules lumbered into view an old farm wagon pulled behind them. Wheels tossed up a light cloud of dust as the sheriff rode around from behind the wagon, straight up to her.

  “Did you find him?”

  “Yes ma’am,” He dismounted, stood in front of her.

  An arrow of fear shot through her heart at something in his tone. “Is he … is he … ” She couldn’t get the question out past numb lips.

  “He’s hurt pretty bad. I sent a man for the doctor.”

  His somber expression spoke volumes. Tension twisted her gut. Fear rose up, stole her speech. Evie could only nod she understood as the wagon pulle
d up near them. The driver climbed down. He and Sheriff Green walked her to the back.

  Evie leaned against the rough wood frame as the men lowered the tailgate. She drew in a long deep breath for courage then looked in at Ben, bloodied and beaten. His face was almost unrecognizable. Tears almost blinded her. Twice, her mouth opened and shut without uttering a sound. How much can a man lose without dying?

  All sound faded to the edge of her awareness. Evie stretched forward to hold a hand above his mouth. Breath feathered her palm and a fraction of her apprehension eased. Her gaze unfocused, she straightened.

  “If you’ll step back ma’am, we’ll bring him inside.”

  For a second Evie stared at the sheriff uncomprehending then his words filtered through. She moved, “Thank you.”

  Adrenalin pumped through her veins. Evie darted into the cabin, ripped quilts off the bed as the men entered. They laid Ben down on his back on the mattress. She thrust a pail at the Talbert hand, John, and asked him to fetch some water from the creek. With hands that shook, she lit the lamp. She set it on the dresser, looked down at her husband.

  Ashen skin made a stark contrast with blackened eyes. His nose was easily twice its normal size and new smudges marked his jaw, chin and left cheek. Evie reached down, touched his arm and whispered his name. He didn’t respond.

  A single tear ran unheeded down her face as she started to tend her husband. Evie pulled off his worn boots. The sheriff helped her strip off his pants. The long, muscular legs sported a few bruises on his thighs but otherwise seemed unharmed. She moved on to his once green flannel shirt.

  Stained with dirt and wet with blood, the fabric clung to his shoulder. She gently peeled it away and uncovered more than a battered body, discovered a source of the blood. Heart in her throat she stared at the ugly wound. Her fingers, one by one, loosened the flannel. The ruined shirt fell to the floor. Dying was a real possibility.

  “Ben?” Evie touched his uninjured shoulder, soft. He reacted with a low moan. She tried again in a more forceful tone. “Please, Ben, wake up. Open your eyes.”

  His eyelids fluttered a few seconds then stilled. Evie picked up a blanket and covered him to the waist. She dug out some towels, scissors and an old sheet then tossed most of the supplies onto the table, impatient. Fear raced along her nerves as she returned to sit on the edge of the bed. She put a folded towel over the weeping hole in his shoulder.

  “He was attacked?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  John returned, set the pail on the floor beside her. Evie got up, filled a pot with water to heat. While the men unasked built a fire, she cut a few long strips from faded cotton, her usually nimble fingers clumsy.

  “Who?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Who did it?” With a handful of just made bandages, some washcloths and a bowl, Evie returned to her husband’s side.

  “I don’t know.”

  Her gaze drifted over Ben. The rise and fall of his chest offered small comfort. Evie reached over, brushed back matted hair and found a good-sized lump near his right temple. Tears stung her eyes. She half filled the bowl with water, started to wash the blood off his face.

  Anger snapped along strained nerves. Evie shot a glance over at the sheriff. “What do you know?”

  “Your husband is a lucky man.”

  “Lucky?” Her gaze became a glare.

  “One of your neighbors found his mare, if he hadn’t I doubt we’d have found Ben in time.”

  “Neighbor? Mr. Talbert?”

  He shook his head, “Thomas Sullivan.”

  “Was he the one who hurt Ben?”

  “No ma’am.” Sheriff Green straightened from his crouched position. He hung the pot she’d filled over flames that danced along sticks.

  “But he knew where Ben was?”

  “Tom showed us where he found the horse. Ben was near there, at the bottom of a small ravine.”

  “How did you know to look there?”

  “Just like chasing down a wounded animal, we followed the blood trail.”

  Evie turned to stare at John with wide eyes, horrified at the images those words invoked, “You what?”

  “I think you’ve helped enough, go on home now.”

  John had the grace to mumble an apology as she watched him take his leave. A hand touched her upper arm. “You all right?”

  Evie started, looked up at the sheriff, “I’m fine.”

  “You look-”

  “Tired? Scared out of my mind?” Her voice, thin, strained despite her desire to sound calm, “I’ll survive.” Evie got up, walked outside, tossed fouled water out of her bowl. “When will the doctor get here?”

  “Soon I’m sure.”

  All of a sudden, Ben groaned. Evie spun at the sound and hurried to her husband’s side. His eyes open, he stared up at her. Pain etched deep lines on his face.

  Her fingers lightly touched his, “Ben.”

  His lips moved in a sad attempt at a smile. “Hey. Pretty. Lady.” He drew in a breath between each word as his gaze swept the room. “Where am I?”

  Chapter Three

  “You’re home.”

  Ben looked up at her. His eyebrows drew together, “Home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I,” His eyelids fell shut. “Don’t … ”

  “Ben? Ben?”

  Only silence answered. Evie stared down at her husband for a moment longer. He didn’t move or make a sound. Her shoulders drooped. Concern knotted her stomach as she moved over to the fireplace and filled her bowl from the kettle.

  Without a word, she strode back to Ben’s side. Evie lifted the blood soaked towel from his shoulder then dropped it on the floor. Nerves stretched taut, she dipped a fresh cloth in the hot water and started to clean around the wound.

  “Mrs. Rolfe,” The sheriff paused. Evie glanced up. The tall man pulled up a chair near her, sat down. With a cautious expression and a gentle, careful tone, he asked. “Do you know who’d want to hurt your husband?”

  Evie looked back down at Ben. Her eyes burned but she refused to cry. She scrubbed off the last bits of dried blood and dirt, “Ah … ” Her task finished, she laid a fresh towel over torn flesh. “Other than Mr. Talbert, I … ”

  “You think Mr. Talbert is responsible?”

  “I don’t know but the other night some of his men-”

  A welcome sound drifted through the walls, sent a wave of relief over her. Evie held up a hand and shook her head when the sheriff started to say something. She thrust the bowl on the dresser and almost ran to open the door.

  In front of the cabin, a buggy rolled up. A slight built man dressed in all brown from trousers to string tie stepped out of the vehicle. With short light brown hair, plain features and wire-rimmed spectacles, the medical bag in his hand was the only thing of note about the man.

  “Mrs. Rolfe, this is Dr. Black,” The sheriff walked up, offered an introduction as she motioned the other man inside.

  “We’ve met,” she addressed Sheriff Green then turned her attention back to the doctor, clasped his hand. “Thank you for coming.” She gestured to Ben. “He’s bleeding badly.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  Dr. Black moved directly to the bedside, set his bag on the dresser. With quiet efficiency, he examined Ben. A guttural moan escaped his lips. Evie walked over to the foot of the bed as her husband opened his eyes and lightly touched his leg.

  “The doctor’s here.”

  Ben looked up at the man beside him then down at Evie. He tried to move then stilled when the doctor placed a hand on his chest. His breath labored, perspiration covered his face. Pain twisted his expression into a grimace. She averted her gaze to stare at the blazing fire.

  Dr. Black laid a hand on her arm, “I’ll need hot water and whiskey if you have some.”

  After a few seconds, she nodded then with a swish of her skirts, stepped away. She reached up on the shelf and pulled down the large flour tin. Cheeks aflame, Evie avoided the men’s cur
ious gazes as she dug out the bottle she’d hidden. That it was half-full startled her a moment then, with a sigh, she put the container back. Ben had obviously found it.

  Her mouth twisted into a travesty of a smile, she handed the liquor to the doctor. She moved to the hearth, lifted the heavy, steaming pot from over the fire then set it down on a folded cloth in the middle of the table. After that, she added soap, some bowls then hovered, watched the doctor spread out his own supplies.

  “Your husband is in good hands.”

  “I know.” Although grateful for the reassurance, her voice came out hollow.

  “You know Dr. Black?”

  Evie nodded. Her gaze never left the doctor as he helped her husband swallow some whiskey. He turned from his patient, washed his hands then started on Ben’s shoulder. She watched him clean out the wound without a noticeable flinch but her eyes widened as he threaded a needle. When the sharp metal pierced her husband’s flesh, she felt the blood drain from her face.

  Saliva gathered in her mouth. Poise crumbled. She swayed but couldn’t look away. Evie heard the sheriff speaking to her as if from a distance.

  “Ma’am … ma’am maybe you should step outside?”

  Her mind fuzzy it took a moment before Evie understood what he’d said and her gaze swung to him. She stared at the tall man a few seconds, blinked then stumbled outside. Crisp, cool air feathered her face.

  “You were telling me about some men?”

  Evie started. The sheriff had followed. She turned, found him right behind her. “I was?” Movement caught her eye. On her left, a few yards away, was a horse, picketed. “Oh, yeah, yesterday late afternoon,” she heard a groan, paused, flicked a glance back at the cabin. Worried, on edge, she couldn’t stand still, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “Some men showed up, mad about Eddie Talbert getting hurt.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “Other than they must work for the Talberts?” Evie shook her head. “I’d never seen them before.”

  “Would you or your husband recognize them?”

  “Ben wasn’t here and I doubt I could. They were riding all around, yelling, and firing shots. I was scared.” The doctor appeared in the doorway and gestured for her to come. Evie took a step toward home then stopped, looked back at the sheriff, “but Mr. Talbert would know. He told me he fired those men.”