Heading back inside, Evie paused in the doorway, studied Ben a few seconds. Some color had returned to his face. “All right let’s get the mattress.”
Ben got to his feet and followed her across the room. They carried the straw stuffed pallet out and swung it up, into the wagon bed. He walked back into the cabin slow, sat back down heavy.
“Let me catch my breath and I’ll help with the dresser.”
“No need all the furniture except for my rocker came with the cabin and can stay.”
“Oh,” Ben sounded stunned.
“It’s easier to travel without much,” Evie pulled off the curtains and wrapped the lamp with them. “It’s why we brought so little with us.”
“Why don’t we have more? Haven’t we lived here for years?”
Evie shook her head, “Almost one.”
“Almost one? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”
“Why did we come here? Where did we live before?”
Impatient, Evie sighed, loud. She picked up the basket and headed for the door. “Can we talk about this later?”
“You say that a lot.”
Frustration shaded with resentment filled her ears. It struck a cord. She paused, faced him. “I … It’s hard to remember everything you don’t.”
“It’s hard not to remember.”
“And it’s hard to discuss some things.”
“But you’re the only one who can answer my questions.”
“After we’re done loading up,” she stifled a groan then stepped into the doorway. “I’ll answer some, I promise.”
Evie didn’t wait for an answer. She carried her burden out to the wagon then returned. In minutes, she cleared the table, everything off the walls and from underneath the bed. Before she packed the special wooden box, she removed the loaded pistol and put it in her skirt pocket. Only her rocker remained. As Ben carried it outside to put it in the space she’d left open, she went back inside the cabin.
In the center of the room, Evie stood and turned slowly around. Her gaze swept over every inch to ensure that she’d missed nothing. She hadn’t. Hours ago, the cabin had been a home. She shivered. Now it felt empty, barren.
A blue jay perched on the wagon seat, chiding her with it’s song as Evie walked outside. For a second she stared at the annoying bird then looked around for Ben. He wasn’t hard to find, he’d wound up the clothesline with the clothes on it. She stalked over, snatched the stuff out of his arms then went back to the wagon, threw it in. The jay, startled, took flight.
“What were you thinking?” Arms crossed over her chest, she swung around to glare at Ben.
His breath audible, he reached her side, leaned against the wagon for support. “I wanted to be useful.”
“You shouldn’t even be out of bed.”
“Agreed.”
Geared for a fight, his response left her nonplussed. She stared at him a moment then shook her head. While he caught his breath, she fetched water for Sugar. Evie patted the mare’s neck as she looked up at the clear blue sky and noted to her surprise that the afternoon was still young.
“Are we ready to go?”
“There’s one more thing to do.” Evie returned to Ben’s side. “Can you handle a bit of a walk?”
“If I must.”
“It’s important,” she snagged the rifle from the wagon seat then wrapped her free arm around his waist. Slowly they headed down the path to the creek. She took a deep breath. “Before here we lived in Whitefish, Montana.”
Ben laughed, surprised her. “Do we have a thing for fish?”
“The town names?” her lips curved into almost a smile. “When you saw Salmon, Idaho on a map, you said it was fate, we were meant to come here.”
“Sounds like me.”
“Yeah, anyway we lived there for about a year and a half, had a little place on the edge of town. At first you did odd jobs, I sold eggs, we did okay.”
“Then what?”
Shade darkened the path. Evie stumbled a few times until her vision adjusted. “We made friends.”
“That’s good isn’t it?”
“It can be.” Leaves tickled her skin. She used the rifle to move a branch out of their way. “Daniel Brown was charming, well liked and shared your passion for fishing. You grew close quick. You bought a saw mill with him.”
“Was that wise?”
“Seemed so at first,” They reached the creek. “Meanwhile as the business consumed a lot of your time, I became friends with a neighbor, Martha. She was my age, married and had a baby girl and a little boy. I loved her kids, really started to want one of my own.”
“Was that a problem?”
Evie pulled free and knelt, studied various rocks under the clear water flow. “Yes and no,” She handed him the rifle. “We never really talked about it before then, just assumed it’d happen one day. Meeting her changed that.”
“You wondered why she’d had babies and you hadn’t?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers plunged in and drew out the prettiest stone she could find, blue and green swirled, polished smooth. She looked up. Ben leaned on the rifle as a makeshift cane. Evie grimaced as she got to her feet but didn’t object. She waved to a path to the left and onward they went.
“What’s with the rock?”
“We always take one up to the meadow.”
“Why?”
“Let me finish what I started, it all ties in.”
“All right, please continue.”
“Martha’s grandmother swore all I needed to do was drink goat’s milk but you were suspicious of her motives.”
“Oh? Did I hate goats?”
“No. Ester owned the only goats in Whitefish.”
“So I thought the old lady just wanted to sell us milk?”
“Yes but we decided it wouldn’t hurt to humor her. You got fresh milk for me every morning before you went to work.” Evie drew in a deep breath. “Then … ”
“It didn’t work and the scam started a fight with our neighbors.”
“Not the goat’s milk.”
Ben stopped walking. “The saw mill?”
“Daniel vanished one day along with all the mill’s funds.”
“And that’s why we moved?”
“Not immediately but you took the loss hard.”
“Is that a polite way of saying I started drinking?”
She started up the trail again.
Sparrows followed hopping from branch to branch along the trees that lined the path. “If I was drowning all my sorrows how’d I get the bright idea to move?”
“Because.” They walked out into a clearing set midway between the cabin and creek but higher. Sun bathed a swath of purple irises. “Ester was right.”
“What?”
Evie pointed across the sea of flowers. Nestled near the tree line was a small wooden cross surrounded a square mound of rocks. “The milk worked.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her gaze riveted on the grave, she ignored his question, walked over and sat down beside the cross.
“What is this?”
“This is,” Evie laid her rock on the mound, the last one she’d ever place while tears leaked down her cheeks, “our son.”
“But you said we had no children,” his tone, stunned.
Her throat constricted, made speech difficult. “We don’t.”
A lark sang from somewhere out of sight even as silence stretched between them, heavy, weighted with emotion. Several seconds passed. Evie waited, allowed him time to absorb the information.
“What happened?” His whisper, low, tightly controlled.
“He was born too soon,” Her voice choked with sorrow recent and raw. “So very small.”
“Was that because of the move? Did I-?”
“No. You stopped so often for me to rest that it took us a month longer to get here. The move didn’t do it.”
Ben turned f
rom her, looked out at the empty stretches of land that surrounded them. “Then I couldn’t get you help in time, could I?”
“Not everything is because of you.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “I knew what it meant when I started having pains that day. You raced to the neighbors for help, found the doctor there and brought him right home. But it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered if the doctor had been here from the start. There was nothing he could do.”
“Why?”
“Once labor starts, it can’t-”
“No why did it happen?”
“Dr. Black said it just does sometimes.”
Ben lowered down, sat next to her. “What did we name him?”
“James Michael. James after my father and-”
“Michael for my brother.”
“Yes.”
“And the rocks?” His arm circled around her, warm, solid support.
Evie leaned her head against his shoulder. “We brought flowers at first but they died so fast. You gave me a pretty rock one day to cheer me up. I took it up here, left it with James. Since then we always brought one for him. Silly huh?”
“No.”
“So I-.”
The thud of horse hooves disturbed her. She was really starting to hate that sound. What she’d been about to say was forgotten instantly and Evie got to her feet. She looked off toward the cabin with one hand up to shade her eyes. “That’s probably Mr. Sims and his men.”
Anxious she strode off at a quick pace. Evie went several yards before she noticed Ben hadn’t kept up. She darted back to him. “Come on, I don’t trust him not to go through our things and break stuff.”
“This is as fast as I can move. Go ahead, be careful and make sure the sheriff’s with them. Stuff is replaceable,” he cupped her chin with one hand, “you are not.”
“I will.” She promised then turned around, took off for the cabin, missing the silent tears fall down Ben’s cheek.
Out of the tree line, past the sheriff and Mr. Sims, Evie rushed straight to the wagon. A man stood beside it, his hands on her chair and her temper erupted. “Get your hands off it.”
“Mrs. Rolfe,” Mr. Sims said, “How nice to see you again.”
Evie didn’t waste her time replying. Her attention focused on the stranger who’d started to lift the rocker. “I said stop. Get away from my wagon.”
“The way I read these papers,” the banker waved them in the air. “The rocker is mine.”
Reason didn’t matter. She couldn’t take more losses. Evie pulled the revolver out of her pocket and aimed it straight at Mr. Sims. “Tell him to unhand my rocker and step away.”
“Now Mrs. Rolfe-”
“I believe I was quite clear.” She pulled back the hammer.
The banker paled. “Sheriff, do something.”
“Mrs. Rolfe, put the pistol away, we’ll discuss this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Her voice hard. “That wagon holds all I’ve left and I’m not giving up anything.”
“Surely you wouldn’t risk jail over a chair,” His tone full of condensation.
“I’m a dead shot,” Her stance wide, steady. “Surely you wouldn’t risk dying over one?”
Chapter Six
“Are you threatening to kill him?”
“No,” Her gaze never wavered from her target. “I’m asking how badly he wants to steal my chair.”
After a long tense moment, Mr. Sims tersely ordered the man away. Evie eased the hammer down and lowered her weapon. She moved up next to the wagon, careful to keep an eye on the men.
“Are you going to let her get away with that Sheriff?”
“Nobody’s hurt, the Rolfes appear packed and ready to go, I’d prefer to move this along.”
“Not quite, where’s the husband?” Mr. Sims’ mouth puckered as if he’d bitten a sour green apple.
His sulky tone raised her hackles. Her hand tightened on the pistol. Evie didn’t trust the man, not at all. “He’s coming.”
“I don’t have all day.”
Her eyes narrowed, she glared at the banker. “I appreciate your concern for my dear husband.”
“I give a fly-”
“Sorry I’m late.” Ben ambled up behind Mr. Sims, the rifle carried properly now, visibly startling the older man. He gave a casual greeting to the men as he walked past those gathered near the cabin straight to Evie.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” This close she could see his sweat dampened hairline. The rifle shook in his grip. The last few hours had taken a toll on her husband. “Are you?”
“Exhausted, hurting, still standing. For now.”
“Time to leave?” Evie slid the gun back into her pocket.
Ben leaned against the wagon, “Yeah.”
“Sheriff,” Evie looked over at the lawman. “We left three chickens. Could you see they get to Dr. Black? We owe him.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you. If there’s nothing else we’ll leave now.”
“I think that would be best.”
Mr. Sims called out as Ben gave Evie a hand up, “You’re not welcome at my bank Rolfe, close your account today then do us all a favor and leave town.”
Evie blinked rapidly. What account? Her composure barely held as she stared down at her husband.
“I’ll take care of that.” Ben passed her the rifle, she scooted over and he joined her on the seat. With a slap of the reigns, they moved forward.
“How do we get to town?”
“Just follow the road for now.” The rutted ground rocked her as she untied her apron, folded it, put it behind her.
“How far is it?”
Late afternoon sun beat down on them. Evie squinted. She pulled a man’s old beaten up hat out from under the seat and set it on her head so the crooked brim shaded her eyes. “An hour or so.”
“Nice hat,” Threads of amusement wove through the weariness in his voice but Ben kept a straight face.
“Thanks,” her tone dry. “It’s an old one of yours I found in the barn. My bonnet is somewhere in back.”
They rounded the curve in the road that put the cabin and therefore the men out of view. Tall grass, meadow and forest surrounded them. The only creatures in sight now were a couple of does with their spotted fawns. They stood like statues in the field to the right. Evie felt her tension ease.
“Do you want to stop and dig it out?”
“No this works let’s get to town.” She reached over the seat back and put the rifle down behind them.
At a slow steady pace, they jolted along. “Can you drive?”
“Can or will I?”
“Both.”
“Yes,” Evie held out her hands, “and yes.”
Ben gave over the reigns and with a muffled yawn rested against her. “Was it the loss of our son?”
“What?” Startled Evie almost drove off the road.
“The drinking.”
Her fingers tightened on leather. She sighed, a soft, lonely sound. “It’s not that simple.”
“We have an hour.”
“You should rest.”
“My ribs are on fire, my shoulder throbs and my head is killing me. I doubt I’ll get any real rest until we get to town.”
“I can stop and you could go in the back, lay on the mattress.”
“No,” His voice low yet emphatic. “I don’t trust Sims. He could have someone waiting to jump us.”
A rider appeared in the distance in front of them on the road at that moment. Her heart pounded. She transferred the reigns to one hand and put the other in her pocket, gripped the pistol. As he moved along side, Evie felt Ben tense, sit up. The grizzled old man acknowledged them with a nod then rode past. She sagged in relief, loosened her grip on the gun.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Ben offered the observation then leaned back against her, didn’t prod further. His breath hitched whenever they rolled over a rough patch. After a while, guilt nagged at he
r.
“You didn’t start drinking outright when we lost James… but when other stuff went wrong, I think you were still a little raw.”
About a mile passed before he spoke. “Did he live at all?”
“No.” Her sorrow whispered into the wind.
“Did I hold him?”
A memory both painful and precious, “Yes.”
They didn’t speak again for a long time. Gradually the landscape changed. Great expensive fields now stretched out in every direction. To the left, cows munched on grass. On the other side, blackbirds perched on the lone tree above rows of plowed dirt. A breath verging on a sob escaped her.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” A bead of sweat ran down her temple. “But there is nothing to do about it.”
“Sad about moving on?”
“You have no idea.”
“I’m sorry.”
Evie shook her head.
“I-”
“Don’t. Don’t talk about it.”
“All right,” Ben straightened away from her, stretched gingerly. “Are we almost there?”
“Getting close. If you can handle it, we should go to the bank and settle that first. I hope there’s enough for some supplies.”
“You don’t know how much we have?”
Evie glanced at him. “I didn’t know we had an account.”
“Oh,” His confusion clear.
“Probably something I shouldn’t worry about.”
“Sounds like it bothers you.”
“You could say that.”
“I just did.”
“Don’t try to be funny.”
“What put a burr under your saddle?”
Evie was incredulous. “Years of your life are missing, Benjamin. Tell me, does it make you feel protected to be left in the dark? Do you not have to worry about anything anymore?”
Without hesitation, he replied. “Of course not.”
“Well I hope you remember that.”
Buildings appeared in the distance, sprawled across the horizon. The steady hum of a large number of people increased in volume with each step Sugar took. Soon it started to jangle her nerves. Cedar Ridge seemed larger than she remembered.
Evie drove down Main Street to the bank in the heart of town and parked in front of it. She stuffed the hat back under the seat, smoothed her hair and went inside with Ben. In a few short minutes, they’d concluded their business. The money gained was modest, welcome but still troubling. It was the payment for their homestead. Where then had he gotten that bag of coins?
Lori Connelly Page 7