The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge. Lori Connelly
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“I can’t hold those boys long and I’ve heard ugly rumors.”
She stiffened. “Rumors?”
“Those boys are locals. They all grew up here.”
“And we’ve only been a here a few years.”
The sheriff nodded. “Word about the Talbert boy has gotten around. There’s not a whole lot of sympathy for your husband’s injuries. In fact there’s some anger directed at him still.”
“I see.” Her stomach rolled.
“Ma’am I’ll do my best but I’m only one man.” His serious tone and the concern in his gaze, slammed his message home. The neighbors likely wouldn’t help if someone decided to hurt Ben again and the sheriff couldn’t protect him.
“I understand.” Her hands clasped tight together. “Anything else? I should get back to my husband.”
Sheriff Green studied her for a tense moment. “I brought your horse back. She’s in the barn.”
“Thank you.”
“I checked the saddlebags. They were empty. Did Ben have anything of value?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Has he brought home any extra money?”
“What are you really asking?”
“It’s important I have the facts ma’am. Did he have any –?”
“No. There’s no money here. You’re welcome to look if my word isn’t good enough.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Dr. Black strolled from the cabin. “I need to get going.”
“Of course.” Evie managed a stiff smile. “Thank you.”
Without waiting to see either man off, she stepped into the open doorway. Evie paused there. Her fingers gripped the wood frame hard. The sound of hooves and wheels faded as she stood, staring at Ben who slept yet again. Her head bowed. Worn out, she felt alone, abandoned.
A surge of fury suddenly crashed over logic. Her chin lifted and she glared at her husband. Evie stomped across the room, snatched up a pot, set it down hard on the table. A quick glance showed Ben undisturbed.
I’m tired of understanding.
Lips tight, Evie shook her head. Being patient. She put chicken broth and dried vegetables in the pot then hung it over the fire on a hook Ben had fashioned. Feeling alone in the same room. Her actions jerky, she pulled a small crock off a shelf then opened the towel wrapped around the half loaf of cornbread.
Her hands shook as she cut off a couple of slices then smeared butter over them. Movements slowed. Tears fell.
Evie looked over at Ben. Hair fell untidy across his forehead, his face a patchwork of charcoal smudges, a few more colorful bruises and pallid skin. I almost lost you.
Drained she made no effort to wipe her cheeks. Slowly she moved her chair back next to the bed. She grabbed her snack, poured a mug of coffee and sat down. Without enthusiasm, she washed her food down with bitter liquid. When she finished, Evie reached out and touched his chest.
Her fingers lingered, moving in a soft caress. A dark brown mat of hair spread out over his upper body until it disappeared beneath his bound ribs. Evie laid her palm flat on his lower belly a moment then pulled back. Sadness whispered. She’d all but forgotten how it felt to touch him. She stared at the dregs of her coffee, and rocked herself for comfort.
Ben cleared his throat. The young woman didn’t respond, just kept rocking. He cleared his throat again, louder. She stilled a second then faced him, her expression a polite mask.
“Good afternoon.”
Though pain tugged at him, Ben studied her, curious about the stranger who claimed to be his wife. Hair, a rich, deep golden brown, tumbled from a haphazard braid to fall about a pretty face with even features dominated by eyes an intriguing sky blue. With sun kissed golden skin and a strong yet gently curved body, she was exactly his type of woman.
“Is it? I feel weak as a kitten.”
“You’ve had a rough few days.” Her voice had a low husky quality. “Are you hurting?”
His head pounded, his whole body ached and any deep breath brought pure misery. “Oh yeah.”
“I can get you some-”
“Not now thank you … Evie … is that right?”
A flash of emotion disturbed her expression. “Yes.”
“And … Did you say you’re my wife?”
“I did.” Her flat, almost lifeless voice disturbed him.
A spasm of pain seized him, commanding attention. Sweat bathed his face. It took little time before it became tolerable but each second that ticked by worsened his mood. Everything felt out of his control.
Patience fled. Ben challenged the woman, skepticism clear in his testy tone. “How is that possible?”
“Standing before a minister and affirming vows before God and witnesses has that effect,” Evie snapped; her voice frost.
Her words hung in the air. Anger flashed in her eyes before they went flat. Ben didn’t know how to respond. Her certainty troubled him but what the doctor had suggested just couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. Irritated, uncomfortable, he shifted.
“What are you doing?”
“I want up.”
Her lips pursed in disapproval but Evie helped him without protest. Tremors shot through his body, stealing his breath as he moved into a seated position. Lastly, she had Ben lean forward and stuffed a folded blanket behind him for support. He sagged back against the padding.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Stilted words reflected the awkwardness between them. Evie paused, studying him a moment. “Hungry?”
“A little.”
In minutes, she brought him some thin soup and water. He devoured the food then handed her back the empty bowl. Though now every breath spread splintering pain, he took a few sips from his cup, one hand pressed against his aching ribs. What little energy he had left started to fade. Even so, he was determined to address her claim.
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes.” Evie glared at Ben, her tone decidedly cool as she got out of the chair. She knelt down, reached underneath the bed and pulled out a small wooden box. From inside she took out a photograph, handing it to him. “Your wedding present to me.”
Ben stared at the black and white picture, worn from many handlings. The upper right corner had a long, narrow white line and along the bottom there were spots from water but the image was clear. “We made a handsome couple.”
“Satisfied?”
“Confused.” A note of impatience spiced his words as he continued to study the smiling people captured on paper. No memory of that day, place or her stirred in his mind. “We’re married.”
“Yes.”
“You’re my wife.”
Her hand came up. Fingers squeezed the bridge of her nose as she sucked in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay.”
“I