Married by Christmas (4 page)

Chapter Five

D
riven to comfort him, she’d uttered the hasty words without thinking. Suddenly the weight of his work-roughened hand was too much, the connection too personal. Pulling away, Rebecca sank against the chair and hugged her middle.

The muted light flickered across his face, making his scar appear more grotesque than it truly was. The night of the accident, she’d overheard Doc Owens saying he was fortunate. If the plank had hit him one inch to the left, he’d have lost his eye. At the time, she hadn’t cared one whit about Caleb’s injury, not when her fiancé’s life hung in the balance.

Oh, the fury that had swept through her when she’d learned what had happened! She’d known, hadn’t she? Known it deep in her bones that one day Caleb would go too far. If only Adam had heeded her warnings...but he and Caleb had been as close as brothers. Adam had looked up to his larger-than-life friend.

They shouldn’t have been anywhere near that sawmill. They’d had run-ins with the owner, Guthrie Fleming, on two previous occasions—Adam had stubbornly refused to reveal the nature of those run-ins, much to her consternation—and he’d warned them to stay away. Always on the search for the next adventure, Caleb had drummed up the idea of sneaking in after closing hours and messing with Fleming’s office. Nothing serious, Adam had later informed her, just enough to aggravate the older man.

They never made it to the office. Foolishly climbing on the plank stacks, leaping from one pile to the next, Caleb had reached the ground when the pile Adam was standing on gave way. He’d sustained a blow to his lower spine in the fall. A blow he couldn’t recover from, physically or mentally. Watching her best friend, the man she’d loved and admired and planned a life around, retreat inside himself had been excruciating. Nothing she said or did convinced him that a wheelchair couldn’t diminish her love for him. When rational speech hadn’t worked, she’d argued, pleaded, cajoled, even railed at him to stop feeling sorry for himself. In the end, he hadn’t been able to accept their altered future.

Adam had ordered her to stop coming to the doctor’s office. When he’d been moved to his parents’ home, she attempted to see him more than once. Finally, his mother had tearfully informed her it was time for Rebecca to allow her son to move on with his life. Then she’d asked for the ring back. The humiliation and defeat were as fresh today as they had been all those months ago.

Rebecca automatically reached for the locket hanging about her neck. Lifting it to eye level, she opened it as she’d done hundreds of times in the year since Adam moved away. His easy smile made her heart burn with disappointment.

“Why, Adam?”
Why were you so determined to walk away from everything we had? From me?

The bedroom door opened. Rebecca shifted to watch Amy’s approach, Storm following in her wake. “How’s he doing?”

“The fever doesn’t seem to be abating.”

Amy frowned. “He looks bad, Rebecca. What if he—” Her throat worked.

Ignoring the painful thump of her heart, she gave Amy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s try and stay positive, okay? Caleb is strong and healthy.”

“But we have no idea how long he was in the snowstorm. Do you think he might have pneumonia?”

“I don’t think so.” Breaking eye contact as a feeling of helplessness swamped her, she watched his chest rise and fall. His breathing seemed a bit labored to her. “Pray that the snow melts. Getting him to the doctor is our number-one priority.”

“Do you want me to sit with him?”

“No, I’ll do it. You need your rest.”

“So do you,” she pointed out. “You’ve been tending to him nearly every minute since Storm found him.”

The past twenty-four hours had passed in a blur. “I’m fine.”

At Amy’s quirked brow, Rebecca said, “I’ll rest on the settee if I need to. That way I’ll hear him if he calls out.”

“Fine.” Patting Storm’s head, Amy said, “Keep her company, okay, girl?”

At that, the dog settled herself at Rebecca’s feet.

Amy smiled. “’Night, then.”

“Sweet dreams.”

When Rebecca was left alone once more with her restless patient, the fire crackling and Storm’s mournful eyes fastened on her, she sank forward so that her forehead rested on the mattress.

Lord, You are well aware of the state of my sister’s poor battered heart, how she still grieves Ma’s and Pa’s passing. For her sake, and that of Caleb’s parents and brothers, I ask You to please spare his life.

* * *

“Becca?”

They were in the sawmill, the three of them. It was summer. Full moon. The humid air hugged her body, close and uncomfortable. From her vantage point beneath the overhang of the low building, she could see Adam standing precariously close to the edge of the planks high above her head. With dawning horror, Rebecca tried frantically to get his attention, to warn him. He ignored her. Crept closer to danger.

No. No, don’t. Adam, please stop...

“Becca, wake up.”

She gradually became aware of the quilt beneath her cheek, the dog’s warmth against her ankle and—surely she was imagining it—masculine fingers lightly skimming her hair?

Caleb.
Jolting upright, her gaze shot to a pair of glittering brown eyes. She self-consciously smoothed the mussed strands, assuring herself that the featherlight caress had been part of the disturbing dream.

“H-how are you feeling?” She reached for his mug. “Do you want some water?”

He waved her offer aside. His raven hair was damp at the temples, the longish strands clinging to his neck beneath his shirt collar. “Need paper. Pen.”

“What for?”

His gaze, which she now noticed was overly bright, slid away. What was he hiding? “I need for you to take down information.”

“What sort of information?” Dismay churned in her middle. Deep down, she suspected what he wanted and why.

“Descriptions,” he said, broad chest rising and falling as if he’d just completed a race.

“Of the outlaws, you mean?”

He met her gaze head-on. “Yes.”

There was resolve in that gaze. Regret, too, so deep she thought she might drown in it. Jaw knotted with unease, she crossed to the opposite wall to the storage cabinet where she kept her watercolors, handmade paintbrushes and other supplies. Withdrawing a pencil and paper, she returned to her chair and took a bracing breath.

“I’m ready when you are.”

“There were five of them....”

As Rebecca penned the details, the fact that he had witnessed a man’s death finally registered. And not just any man, a respected lawman. As Cades Cove was only a two-day ride from Gatlinburg, Eli Tate had made several visits to their town. She’d even met him once. Had been struck by his somber demeanor. Local folks said the young sheriff was dedicated to protecting his small community and respected by its inhabitants. Now he was dead.

How helpless Caleb must’ve felt. He had never been one to remain on the fringe of the action. He certainly hadn’t ever stood by while injustice was meted out.

Pencil hovering above the parchment, she jerked up her head. “You tried to intervene, didn’t you?”

He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch in the face of her accusation.

She gripped the pencil tighter. “You honestly thought you could take on a gang of outlaws all by yourself?”

“Tate was unarmed. Surrounded.” His frown was fierce. “I had to try.”

“What did you do exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sighing, he pressed his head farther back into the pillow. “It didn’t work.”

“You very well may pay for that with your life.” Jumbled emotions stabbing at her, Rebecca tossed the pencil aside and strode to the fireplace, seizing the poker and jamming it into the half-burned logs. Anger at his foolishness pounded at her temples.

“If I don’t make it, will you take the information to Shane? He’ll need it if he’s gonna get justice for Tate.”

She whirled about to gape at him. The resignation in his handsome features filled her mouth with the metallic taste of fear. Fear for the friend he used to be, not the nemesis he’d become.

“You are not dying on my watch,” she said through gritted teeth. No way was she going to have his death on her conscience.

Apology deepened the furrow between his brows. “I’d like for Nathan to have my horse. Josh can have my guns.”

“Stop.” Hands clenched, she stalked over to the bed and glared down at him. “If I have to pack you in icicles, if I have to bury you in snow or submerge you in the stream to bring that fever down, I will. You
will
recover, Caleb O’Malley, and then you’re gonna walk out of my life and never return, got it?”

* * *

Something wet splashed onto his hand. Tears. Becca was crying over him? Didn’t she know he wasn’t worth it?

“I never wanted this,” he said. Relaying the details of the murder had drained him. “I stayed away so you wouldn’t have to be reminded. Now here I am causing you pain again.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of what happened.” She angrily swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “I’m reminded every day that I wake up alone. I’m reminded every time I see his parents at the mercantile or in the church pew. This town is riddled with memories. There’s no getting away from them.”

The magnitude of what he’d done, the price she’d been forced to pay, seized him. “I’d give anything if I could turn back the clock and return to that night—if I could switch places with Adam, I would.” Daring to reach out and splay his fingers over her hand, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Becca.”

Grief twisted her features, and she bent her head, a thick fall of hair slipping forward and blocking her profile. To his shock, she didn’t snatch her hand away. Instead, she traced the veins crisscrossing the top of his with her fingertip. “I don’t wish to discuss this anymore tonight,” she said, her voice unsteady. “You need rest.”

Caleb’s eyes slid shut. Despite the weariness weighing down his body and the throbbing ache in his leg, that single touch brought him more pleasure than he’d known in ages.

“Caleb?” The caress ceased, and he had to bite his lip in order to refrain from begging her to continue.
That’s what happens when you spend most of your time with nothing but squirrels and birds for company.

“Yeah?” Afraid she might see how she affected him, he kept his eyes closed.

“Promise me you’re not giving up. That you’re gonna fight this.”

The tremor in her voice forced his gaze up to her lovely face wreathed in worry. Frustration fueled his heavenward petition.
Why her, God? Why did she have to be the one to find me? Haven’t I caused her enough suffering? I deserve whatever comes my way, but Becca and Amy are innocent. My presence here is putting them at risk.

He wondered if God would choose to hear his prayer, much less deem to answer. After all the pain his actions had brought to those around him, he harbored serious doubt his Creator looked kindly upon him. But this was important. Becca’s life very well could be on the line. If those murderers had seen his scar, if they tracked him here and he was too weak to protect her...

Caleb gritted his teeth, pushed the disturbing images out of his mind. He couldn’t think about that. Had to focus on fighting the infection. And, if God decided to spare his life, he’d do as Becca asked and leave Gatlinburg for good. As much as saying goodbye to his family would kill him—spending weeks at a time in the mountains in self-imposed isolation, not knowing how they were faring was its own special brand of torture—he could no longer risk their well-being. Being lonely was a small price to pay if it meant they were happy and healthy and untouched by the irresponsibility inherent to his nature.

“I’ll leave here as soon as I’m able,” he told her. “Once my business is concluded with Shane and I’m certain you and Amy are no longer in danger, I won’t bother you again. You have my word.”

Looking as if she had more to say but thinking better of it, she merely nodded. “I’ll heat you up some broth.” Sweeping gracefully to the tiny kitchen, she set a large enamel pot on the stove top.

Although he wasn’t the least bit hungry, Caleb didn’t call her back to his side. The effect of her innocent touch yet lingered, and he didn’t trust himself not to play on her sympathy and ask if she’d mind holding his hand until he slept.

Chapter Six

R
ebecca was making her way to the barn the next morning, an empty milk pail dangling from her wrist, when the jangle of horse bells reached her. She froze. Had Tate’s murderers come to silence Caleb? Hardened criminals knew better than to announce their arrival, didn’t they?

Feeling vulnerable without a means of defending herself, she peered along the narrow lane leading out of their cove. A familiar gold-trimmed black sleigh glided through the fresh dusting of snow that had fallen overnight. Her tension eased at the sight of her neighbors, Louis Harper and his daughter, Meredith. Of course they’d come to check on her.

She and Meredith were the same age and had attended school together but hadn’t become close until the death of Rebecca’s parents. In the midst of Rebecca’s grief, the pretty brunette had reached out to her and Amy, stopping by regularly with fresh-baked desserts. Their friendship had been forged over coffee and pie.

Setting the pail in the snow, she greeted the other woman with a longer-than-usual hug. Meredith pulled back, lively green eyes dancing with questions beneath her furry cap. “We came to see how you were faring in this weather. Didn’t figure you’d try to make it to church services on old Toby. Momma’s been feeling poorly this week, so we aren’t going, either. You look strange, Rebecca. Are you all right?”

Cheeks and nose ruddy from the brisk air, Louis sloughed through the snow to his daughter’s side. “You got enough firewood? I can bring some logs inside if you need me to.”

Unreasonably, moisture filled her eyes. Louis Harper had been good friends with her father. Ever since the accident, he’d taken it upon himself to try and ease her burden around the farm.

“Something terrible has happened,” she said. “Caleb O’Malley has been shot. H-he’s inside.”

Eyes going wide, Meredith’s crimson mitten flew up to cover her mouth. Louis’s bushy, ginger-colored brows pulled together. “When did this happen?”

“I found him Friday morning. Actually, Storm led me to him. If she hadn’t, he surely would’ve frozen to death.” Or bled to death, whichever came first.

“You’ve been caring for him all this time?”

“Yes, I...dug the bullet out.”

Her friend stared at her in disbelief. “You’re the most squeamish person I know. You hate the sight of blood. How?”

An icy wind barreled down the mountainside and through the cove, flattening their skirts against their legs. Chafing her arms through the cape, she said, “I don’t know. It wasn’t as if I had a choice. I just did what needed to be done, praying all the while.”

Louis eyed the cabin. “Did he tell you who shot him?”

It was a reasonable question. However, she didn’t want them drawn into the crisis. Bad enough that she and Amy were involved. “I—I’m not at liberty to say, sir.”

“I see.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “How’s he doing?”

“I suspect his wound is infected. His fever is getting worse by the hour.” She twisted her hands. “There are times when he is completely lucid and others when he seems confused. I’m afraid of what might happen if he doesn’t get medical attention. With all the snow...” She waved a hand at the wintry scene. “Would you mind taking a look at him?”

“Not at all.” The burly figure was already crunching his way to the front steps.

She picked up the discarded pail. “Amy’s in the barn feeding the horses. We’ll wait out there.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

Linking arms, they trekked toward the barn. “I’m in shock right now. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel.” Meredith brushed aside dark strands that had snagged on her lips. “Caleb O’Malley. Here. And you as his caretaker. How are you holding up?”

While everyone in Gatlinburg knew Adam had broken their engagement, only Meredith was aware of her private struggles. Rebecca strove for a brave face in front of the townsfolk. It wasn’t in her nature to play the pitied jilted bride. But she’d been honest with her friend about the lingering bitterness she wrestled with, the feeling of helplessness and hurt Adam’s decision had wrought.

“There are so many different emotions inside me right now that I can’t distinguish one from the other. I can’t understand why God did this. He knows how I feel about Caleb. Why couldn’t he have ridden a different direction? Why here? Why me? Haven’t I had enough trouble for one lifetime?”

She sounded like a petulant child, she knew, but didn’t she have a right to complain? In eighteen months’ time, she’d not only lost the love of her life but her dear, beloved parents. As scary as it was to admit, she was
angry
at God.

“I wish I had answers for you.” Meredith pressed in close to her side. “If we could transport him to our house, you wouldn’t have to deal with him.”

Rebecca shook her head. “You haven’t seen him, Mer.” She sighed. “He’s bad off.”

When they reached the barn, Meredith held back, brown hair swirling about the shoulders of her cape. “I hate to burden you further, but have you considered what might happen when folks learn of his presence here?”

Confused by her friend’s grave expression, she frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re an unmarried woman. Caleb’s an unmarried man. The two of you have occupied the same cabin for two whole days and two very long nights without the benefit of a chaperone.”

“He’s hardly in any position to damage my reputation! He’s gravely ill,” she stated with a growing sense of alarm. Withdrawing her arm, she pressed her gloves against her cheeks stiff with cold. “Besides, we haven’t been alone.”

“I’m not certain Amy counts as a suitable chaperone. Logic doesn’t always play into these situations. Remember what happened to Cole and Rachel Prescott? They were locked in the storage room overnight and forced to marry, no matter that it was a cruel prank and not even remotely their fault.”

Appalled at the mere idea of being linked to Caleb in that way, she set her jaw. “Nothing, and I mean absolutely
nothing,
could induce me to marry that man.”

Despite her conviction, a frisson of unease worked its way down her spine. Meredith wasn’t exaggerating. Folks were funny about maintaining appearances at all costs. If there was even the suspicion that something improper had occurred—whether it had or no—marriage was the only way to restore the couple’s reputation.

Understanding warred with caution in Meredith’s heavily fringed green eyes. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“It won’t. I’ve given the man shelter and done my best to keep him alive, that’s all. End of story.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” She held up her hands, the vivid red wool reminding Rebecca of Caleb’s blood pooled in the snow. She bit down hard on her lip as worry swirled afresh in her chest.

“Have you heard from Adam?”

Last night’s conversation—and the terrible vulnerability in Caleb’s eyes—replaying in her mind, it took her a moment to register the question. Meredith was referring, of course, to the numerous letters she’d sent her former fiancé and the fact he hadn’t answered even one.

Shaking her head, she allowed her gaze to roam the white-washed forest beyond the barn, where mighty pines wore skirts of shimmering powder and blue jays’ wings flashed brilliantly against the white backdrop. Along with cardinals, blue jays were one of her favorite birds. Tough to get that exact shade of blue on canvas, however. For the painting hanging above her parents’ bed, she’d had to experiment to get the right shade. Her mother had adored that painting.

A renewed wave of grief gripping her, she sighed. “I haven’t written him in four months. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to hear from me. Don’t know why it took me so long to accept that.”

“What you two had was special. Makes sense you wouldn’t want to give that up.”

“Adam clearly didn’t have a problem,” she muttered, shivering as another gust of wind slammed into them.

“Well, I for one think it’s time you turned your attention to someone else. I’ve noticed Douglas casting moon eyes at you during church. He’d ask to call on you in a heartbeat if you’d encourage him a little.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. I’m not ready.” Tired of dwelling on her sorry state of affairs, she turned the tables on her best friend. “How about we discuss your love life, hmm? Are you ready to tell me who it is you’re sweet on?”

Color bloomed in the brunette’s cheeks, yet she shrugged as if it was no big deal. While Meredith was more than willing to discuss Rebecca’s private affairs, she wasn’t as forthcoming with her own.

“There’s no chance he’ll ever notice me, so why put a name to him?” Her petite nose wrinkled. “Besides, isn’t it more interesting to try and guess his identity?”

“No, it isn’t. It’s frustrating. And hardly fair given everything I’ve revealed to you.”

Meredith was on the verge of relenting when Mr. Harper appeared on the porch and lifted a hand to get their attention.

At the sight of the deep grooves bracketing his mouth, all thoughts of Meredith’s crush fled. Did he have bad news? Perhaps he’d seen something she’d missed, some sign of impending death she was unaware of. By the time he reached them, she’d become numb to the cold, oblivious to the thin, cottonlike clouds stretched across the sky.

“Poor lad is suffering from an infection.” He scratched beneath his heavy wool cap and sighed. “Wish I could take him off your hands, but I doubt he’d survive the trip. And Teresa’s ill. I wouldn’t want to expose him to whatever she has. We have medicine that can help bring the fever down, as well as some herbs and such for a poultice to put on the wound.” He hesitated, which was unusual. “Would you like for Meredith to come and stay with you? Even at this late date, her presence might ward off some of the gossip that’s sure to erupt once your situation becomes known.”

“There’s no place for her to sleep. And besides, I know she’s doing the cooking and cleaning while Teresa is sick.” She met Meredith’s worried gaze. “I can’t ask you to stop caring for your ma simply to babysit us.”

“I could do my chores during the day and spend the nights here. We could make a pallet on the floor.”

“Absolutely not.” She took her friend’s hands in hers and braved a smile. “I appreciate the offer, really, I do. But I can handle whatever the gossips dish out. You know how these things blow over in a week or two.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” Louis sighed. “Meredith, stay and visit with your friends while I get the supplies. I should return within the hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door scraped open then, and Amy’s lips parted. “Mr. Harper. Meredith.” Her gaze bounced between the cabin and Rebecca. “Is everything okay?”

“Mr. Harper is going to fetch medicine for Caleb.”

“Is he gonna make it?” She directed her question at their father’s friend.

“That’s in the good Lord’s hands, Amy. We’ll be praying for him.” His frown didn’t budge. “I’d best be off.”

No one spoke as he made his way to the sleigh. Rebecca belatedly noticed the pail in her sister’s hands. “You milked Flossy for me?”

“She was getting antsy.” She blew out a breath. “I also fed and watered the horses and mucked out the stables.”

“I think that deserves a special thank-you.”

Wispy brows winged up. “Hot cocoa?”

Rebecca smiled and nodded. There was enough in the tin for one more cup, two if she thinned it. An extra spoonful of sugar would make up for the lack. Hopefully, the hens she’d delivered to Clawson’s three days ago had sold and she’d have enough store credit left over from buying necessities to replenish their supply. And perhaps purchase pearl buttons for the new dress she was working on for Amy for Christmas. The special holiday was fast approaching, and Rebecca was determined to provide her sister with some semblance of holiday spirit.

Taking the heavy pail from her, she motioned over her shoulder. “Let’s go inside and get warm while we wait. Mer, there’s cocoa or coffee for you. Your choice.”

“Ma sent along apple butter and two loaves of bread,” she said as they ascended the stairs, pointing to the basket her father had left tucked against the door frame. “We can have a slice now, if you’d like.”

Once on the threshold, the toasty warmth surrounding her and the anticipation of Teresa’s delicious apple butter were promptly forgotten. Caleb was in trouble.

* * *

Caleb thrashed about on the bed, a string of incomprehensible words slipping from his lips. Setting the pail on the dining table without care for the contents, she rushed to restrain him. If he aggravated his injury...

“Stop.”
His voice was hoarse.
“Don’t do this.”

Were these the words he’d uttered when he tried to save Tate’s life?

She was having trouble restraining him. Even ill, his strength was no match for hers.

“Can you give me a hand, Mer?”

The brunette approached, more solemn than Rebecca had ever seen her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Hold his ankles.”

When Meredith had stationed herself at the foot of the bed, Rebecca scooted up on the mattress and, pressing on his shoulders, leaned in close. The scents of pine and earth yet clung to him, intermingled with the familiar one of burning logs in the fireplace and a trace of floral in Amy’s quilt. Beneath all that was the smell of the massive amount of blood he’d spilled.
Trying to save the sheriff.

On the flip side of his recklessness was a courage few could match. He was quick to protect the weak and vulnerable.

“Caleb, can you hear me?”

His fight with an unseen enemy continued, his large hands clutching at the quilt covering him.
“Danger.”

She laid a hand against his fevered, bristle-edged jaw. A memory, long-suppressed, resurfaced of her and Caleb and a nearly drowned calico kitten they’d fished out of the river. Certain he wouldn’t survive, Adam had advised her to leave it to its fate. He’d accused her of being too softhearted. Caleb had had other ideas. Tucking the mewling creature against his chest, he’d carried it here, to her barn, and together they’d worked to keep it alive.

His compassion had known no bounds. The sight of him hand-feeding the tiny animal, lean fingers constantly stroking its fur, had affected her in a profound way. Several days later, when it became clear the kitten would survive, she’d thrown herself against him and hugged him tight. He’d hesitated at first. Then his strong arms had wrapped around her, his heart beating fast beneath her cheek, and it had hit her like a locomotive—Caleb posed a danger to what she had with Adam.