The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge. Lori Connelly
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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 some of the money Talbert had paid for Spice and she hoped Ben had left her some coins from the bag she’d seen that morning. One hand crushed her husband’s hat as she reached out with the other, removing the lid.
Empty. She tried to ignore reason but the stark truth sank in slowly. His hat fell from her nerveless fingers.
Ben had 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 of 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, she forced a stiff smile. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you certain ma’am?”
“I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“Very well.” Despite his clipped tone, his brown eyes reflected not 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. 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, capturing her attention and interest. Frozen, poised to run, they watched her. All at once, she heard the rumble of wheels rolling over the 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 to stand 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, stealing her speech. Evie could only nod she understood as the wagon pulled 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, ripping 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 and 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, discovering the 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. Death 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 and set the pail on the floor beside her. Evie got up, filling a pot with water to heat. While the men built a fire, she cut a few long strips from faded cotton, her usually nimble fingers clumsy.
“Who?”
“Ma’am?”