Married by Christmas

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.

Recognizing her heart’s susceptibility, she’d created distance between them, both mentally and physically. She wasn’t about to risk the security and comfort Adam Tierney offered for anyone, especially not live-as-close-to-the-edge-as-possible Caleb. Though it had taken some subtle maneuvering, Rebecca had been careful not to sit beside him in church or dance with him at the many barn dances the three of them had attended together. He hadn’t remarked on the change, but she’d caught him staring at her sometimes with a look of hurt and confusion. Recalling those looks now, she wondered why he’d never confronted her.

“You don’t wanna do this,” he ground out, urgency underscoring the words. In his fevered mind, he was back there in the mountains, challenging outlaws and trying to save a man’s life. Trying and failing.

When his whole body stiffened suddenly and air hissed through dry lips, she imagined the precise moment he was reliving. The overwhelming need to assuage his pain lodged in her chest and, the other occupants of the room forgotten, Rebecca leaned down and gently rested her head on his shoulder, kneading the rigid biceps through the soft cotton shirt.

“It’s okay,” she said in an urgent, hushed voice. “You’re gonna be okay.”

He continued to resist his unseen enemies. Rebecca repeated the words until he quieted. She wasn’t aware of how many moments passed before Meredith came around the bed and touched a hand to her lower back.

“He’s resting now.”

Sitting up, she avoided her friend’s curious gaze, studying the quilt pattern through increasingly watery eyes.

“Are you gonna be okay, Rebecca?”

A world of bewilderment accompanied the other woman’s obvious concern.

Lifting her head, she said simply, “He was my friend.”

And then she burst into tears. Tears for all that they’d lost, her and Adam and Caleb.

Meredith pulled her upright into a hug. Soon Amy joined their circle. When Meredith began to pray aloud, asking God to heal Caleb and to restore Rebecca’s peace, Becca silently thanked Him for such a dear friend. And then her prayers centered on her patient, her friend turned adversary—that he would heal and return to the high country as quickly as possible.

Chapter Seven

Caleb woke hours—or was it days?—later, at once noticing the absence of searing heat. His chest no longer felt as if an elk sat on it, and his head was blessedly clear. Gratitude swelled. Now he could remove himself to town. Rebecca and Amy would be safe.

The rustle of skirts alerted him to the presence of his bedside sentry.

Setting her rug-in-progress and hook on the chair, Becca leaned down to check his temperature. Immediately he was surrounded by familiar scents of paint, paper and the ever-present lilac. His gaze caught on the gold locket dangling from her neck. He didn’t recognize it. Had it been a gift from her parents? Or Adam?

“How are you feeling?” Apparently satisfied the fever was gone, she straightened and hid her hands behind her back, all emotion smoothed from her countenance. She couldn’t mask the strain caring for him these past days had taken, however. Shadows bruised her eyes.

“In need of a bath, a shave and a huge plate of biscuits and gravy. Not necessarily in that order.”

A ghost of a smile lifted her lips. “I see you’re feeling more yourself. You’re gonna have to wait on the biscuits.”

Gliding to the cast-iron stove in the corner, she dipped what looked to be broth into a plain white bowl. Becca made even the most mundane actions appear graceful, her movements like a coordinated dance, and he thought that he could watch her for a lifetime and never cease to be fascinated. Maybe it was her artist’s spirit shining through. For as long as he’d known her, she’d been driven to create things.

When they were young, her endeavors had been simple. Dandelion necklaces. Animals crafted from leaves, pinecones and acorns. He’d lost count how many times the teacher had reprimanded her for drawing on her chalkboard instead of listening to his lecture. Caleb had winced with every strike of the ruler across her delicate knuckles. One particular time he hadn’t been able to contain himself and, bolting to his feet, railed at Mr. Jones for punishing her for something that was as natural to her as breathing. Caleb had received a lashing for that outburst, but it had been worth the look of hero worship in Becca’s wide eyes, fleeting though it had been.

As a teenager, she’d experimented with pottery making, basket weaving and rug hooking. And while she was good at those, sketching and painting were her true passions. The evidence of her talent adorned the walls. Light streaming through the windows on either side of the cabin door set the paintings alight with color. There were more than he remembered. Birds and flowers dominated, with a couple of mountain landscapes thrown in.

She pivoted, and he noticed the traces of paint smudging her faded blue skirt. Her play clothes, she’d jokingly called them.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“What?” He immediately sat up, the bed coverings pooling about his waist. His leg screamed in protest. “How many days have I been here?”

“I found you Friday morning.”

Five days. Becca looked troubled and well she should. That was five days the gang had had to search for him. He had no idea what direction they’d gone, no clue if they’d noticed the trail of blood he’d left or if they’d glimpsed his scar. Certainly they’d be on the lookout for a horse with Rebel’s markings.

“I’m leaving. Now.”

Shoving off the heavy quilt, he glanced down and saw that his pant leg had been cut away. Not normally a man prone to blushing, embarrassing heat climbed his neck and stung his ears. Quickly covering himself, Caleb couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I have an extra pair of trousers in my saddlebags. Would you mind bringing them to me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do mind.”

That brought his head up. The set of her jaw brooked no argument. Still, he speared her with a dark gaze. “You’re aware of the danger I’ve put you and your sister in by winding up here. I need to speak with Shane Timmons.”

The sooner he left, the sooner the distress would disappear from her beautiful eyes. She could rebury the past. Once again pretend he didn’t exist.

The thought of leaving her, of never seeing her again, made him inexplicably sad, something he refused to dwell on. He had no rights where she was concerned, no claim to her company. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think of her these past couple of years. Every time he got a flash of Becca laughing or dancing or sitting alone in a field of wildflowers with her paints and easel, he’d redirected his thoughts to the sight of Adam falling, of his twisted body buried beneath the planks. He didn’t deserve her attention. Didn’t deserve a crumb of her kindness.

Sliding the bowl and spoon onto the bedside table, she jammed her fists on her waist. “You’re not ready to travel, Caleb.”

“How’s it look outside?” He gestured to the windows.

“It hasn’t snowed since Sunday, but the days have been overcast and the temperature hasn’t risen above freezing. The snow hasn’t had a chance to melt.”

“Rebel could make it to town.”

“Yes, I’m certain he could. You, however, haven’t eaten solid food in days, and I have a feeling you’re not taking into account what riding astride would cost you.”

The logic rankled. “Tell me, Becca, just how long are you planning on holding my pants—and effectively me—hostage?” he drawled.

Her eyes flared. Spinning about on her heel, she stormed to the corner where she’d stowed the bags and, digging through his things without a care for his privacy, retrieved said trousers and dumped them on the bed.

“There—” she jerked a hand toward the door “—you’re free to go. Happy now?” Her chest heaved with indignation.

He sighed. “Look—”

Amy chose that moment to barrel inside, stomping on the rug to rid her boots of wet clumps of snow. “Mr. Harper is here....” She trailed off as her gaze landed on him. “You’re awake.” She stared wide-eyed at her sister. “He’s awake.”

“Yes, so he is.”

Head bent, seeming to take an inordinate amount of interest in the floorboards, Becca refused to look at him. No doubt his determination to reach town in spite of his injuries struck her as reckless and foolish. Her fear was not unfounded—it wasn’t without risk. What she failed to realize was that their well-being took precedence over his own.

“Hello, Amy.” He nodded, inwardly wincing as fatigue washed over him. “Thanks for letting me borrow your bed.”

She paused in the unbuttoning of her purple coat, a shy smile appearing. “It was nothing.”

Becca’s little sister had experienced a growth spurt since he’d seen her last. Her hair was longer and darker, her elfin face had thinned out and, while taller than before, she hadn’t developed the grace and confidence that came with young adulthood. He supposed she’d put away her dolls for more worthwhile pursuits. Adam had teased him mercilessly for indulging the girl.

Hooking the coat collar on the one-inch prong, she approached with her hands clasped behind her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. We prayed for you.”

We? Did that we include Becca? He found that difficult to believe.

“Mr. Harper.” Becca went to greet their neighbor coming through the doorway. “Good news. Your medicine worked. His fever broke this morning.”

“Praise God.” Louis Harper’s astute gaze raked Caleb from head to toe. “Your folks will be relieved.”

His eyes squeezed shut. His folks. He hadn’t thought of them since the night he was shot, uncertain whether or not he would make it. Here he was again, about to cause them more grief.

“I’ll be happy to take them a message for you.” Harper’s no-nonsense voice held a note of sympathy. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to know you’re all right.”

All right? That was up for debate.

* * *

“Let’s go outside for a minute.”

A serious-bordering-on-stern man, the disquiet stamped in Louis’s round, fleshy face made Rebecca uneasy. What was bothering him? What couldn’t he say in front of Caleb and Amy?

Emerging from her room, where she and Amy had waited while Louis helped Caleb get cleaned up, her gaze immediately sought out the bed on the far side of the room. Her patient lay with his head turned to the log-and-chinking wall. She could see the damp sheen in his gorgeous black locks, the clean shirt the color of rich buttermilk encasing his lean torso and impossibly broad shoulders. The hands folded atop his chest struck her as strangely vulnerable and, as it had since the moment she’d turned him over in the snow, compassion warred mightily with long-nursed resentment.

On the porch, Rebecca wound the striped wool scarf that had once belonged to her father about her neck. For a moment, Louis’s gaze snagged on it, and he heaved a heavy sigh. She imagined his thoughts ran along the same line as hers—what would her father say about the predicament she found herself in?

“Caleb told me what happened,” Louis said. “He’s worried about you. I reminded him not to underestimate your strength. You’ve got a level head on your shoulders, just like your ma.”

Rebecca blinked fast. The kind words were a rare gift. Her parents had doled out praise for both their daughters on a regular basis. Guess she’d taken it for granted. Only now that she’d lived without it for so long did she realize how much their support and approval had meant to her.

“He’s bound and determined to leave, despite the fact he’d be risking a relapse.”

“He calmed a bit when I offered to fetch Timmons myself. Since he’s not fit to travel, I’ll bring the sheriff to him.”

Their words were loud in the hushed stillness cloaking the cove, the thick blanket of snow sponging up sounds.

“Thank you for your help today.”

His expression altered into a reluctance to voice unpleasant things. Uh-oh.

“Rebecca...you realize what your tending to Caleb means for your future, don’t you? When the town leaders discover how much time you’ve spent together without a chaperone, they will no doubt expect you to marry.”