Chasing Clovers (31 page)

He
didn't like seeing the anguish in his son's eyes, and wished he didn't have to tell him. "She went back to town to catch the stage."

Ben's brown eyes filled with tears, and his bottom lip quivered. "She left?"

He
closed his eyes.

"
She saved us."

"
I know, Son," he whispered.

Looking up at him, Ben whimpered,
"I know why she left."

Surprised that he would know, he stared down at his son. "Do you now."

"
She told us she lied to you."

He
was surprised that Ben would know something like that. Livy must've told him.

"
She told us she had a baby too and that it died." Ben's finger traced circles in the dirt at his feet.

His chest tight with regret, he couldn't look at Ben. "She told me that too."

Ben's eyebrows shot up. "She did?"

"
Yes."

"
Well, if you knew, why did she have to leave?"

Sighing, and rubbing the grit from eyes,
he said, "There were other things, Ben
." And she doesn't want to come back here.

"
Like what?"

"
You're too young to hear them," he said trying to end their conversation. He didn't want to talk about Livy anymore, didn't want to feel the piercing pain shoot across his chest every time her face appeared in his mind.

"
I miss her already," Ben whispered.

Me too
. "You've got me. I'm here."

He
nudged his son.

"
I know, but Miss Livy was almost like Mama."

His vision blurred and he whispered, "Son, I know you miss your mama, but she's gone."

"
I don't miss Mama as much when Miss Livy's here."

He
felt as tiny as a pebble on the ground, and he didn't know what to say to his son. He didn't know how to make everything better.

"
Mama's keepin' watch over Miss Livy's little girl in heaven," Ben said. "So I don't think she's lonely up there anymore without us."

Ben sounded older than his seven years, and John was overcome with emotion at what a fine lad he was turning out to be.

"
Miss Livy misses her little girl somethin' awful," he said thoughtfully.

"
I'm sure she does." The memory of the things he'd said to her, the horrible words he'd used, came rushing back.

"
She needs us Pa. We helped her with her breathin' attacks."

He
remembered Livy having one the day Boots came to the house. He'd asked her why she has them, but never pushed her to explain. Now he wished he would have. Maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they had.

"
She needs us, Pa," Ben said again.

His hand lay on Ben's shoulder. "She's gone, Son, and she ain't comin' back." As much as he wanted to see her, run his hands through her hair, breathe her in, he couldn't go after her. This is how it was to be.

"
You could go get her." His dark eyes pleaded with John.

"
No, Son, I can't."

"
Why not?" Ben asked, as tears streaked down his dirty face, smudging the ash and soot still on his cheeks.

"
It's complicated," he said.
And she won't want to see me, not after what I said. What I called her.

Ben
's little head shook from side to side. "No, Pa. It's not," he continued, "I told Miss Livy I was sorry for all the bad stuff I did, and she forgave me."

"
Bad stuff?"

Ben hung his head.
"You're gonna be mad Pa, and I'm probably gonna get a whippin'. But I have to tell you."

"
What did you do Benjamin?"

"
I cut the cinch on the horse, and I told Miss Livy to go into the barn where the bad man was and look for you."

John's jaw clenched. What had Ben been thinking? Livy could've died. "Why would you do such awful things, Ben?"

"
The bad man told me he'd kill you and Em if I didn't do as he said." Ben wiped his wet eyes.

"
Boyd told you to do all of those things?"

How could he have not known his son was being blackmailed?
He thought back and realized that the signs had been there. Ben hadn't been himself this past week. He was withdrawn, and always apologizing.

Ben nodded.

"
You told Livy all of this?"

"
She wasn't angry, Pa. You have to go after her," his son pleaded.

He
laid his hand on Ben's shoulder, and tried to calm his son down.

"
Please Pa, go get Miss Livy."

"
Livy's made her decision to leave. Now let it be," he said.

"
She loves us!" Ben yelled.

John's heart skipped at the thought. "Now how do you know that?"

"
She told us last night and…and… I love her too, Pa." Sobbing, Ben got up and ran away.

Not able to get up and go after him with Emily still on his lap, he let his son go.

What the hell was he going to do?
Damn it. He banged his head on the wall behind him. His son obviously cared for Livy, and glancing down at Emily, he was sure his daughter did too.

He didn
't think he could get over everything that had happened between them. Besides, why would she leave without saying goodbye, without giving him a chance to apologize? He had his pride damn it, and he wasn't going to crawl after some woman.

A woman who left while Ben and Emily were still sick
.

If she loved them like she
'd said, then she'd have come back with Clive.

H
e surveyed his land, his home. Nothing had been the same since Livy arrived, and nothing would ever be the same now that she was gone. He ignored the dull ache in his heart, and pushing down all the emotions that ran rampant inside of him, he forced him mind to think of something other than her.

He
was pleased when Emily woke up and the wheezing in her chest was gone. She was sitting on Alice's lap inside the bunkhouse, sipping on some of the broth Ezekiel had made for her and Ben. His son sat at the table carving at a piece of wood with his knife, pretending I wasn't there. He made several attempts to talk to him, but Ben ignored him, instead answering John when he needed to. Seeing his son's red-rimmed eyes tore him apart, and he'd hoped time would heal them all.

He
got up from the table, asking Alice to keep an eye on the children, and then ventured outside. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky. He held his hand up to shade his eyes. The ranch was running as normal. And all of his neighbors had shown up over the last few days with food for him and the kids. Their wagons, heavy with lumber to build a new house, rolled into the yard. But he wasn't ready to rebuild, and had them pile it all next to the tack house.

He stared at the place where his house used to stand. Not yet strong enough to go over and have a closer look, he watched as his men hauled burnt wood and furniture to load onto three waiting wagons
.

He
looked at the crows cawing overhead. A dozen black scavengers were gliding in the air, and he watched as they dived, disappearing from his sight. They were circling something out in the field. One of the cattle must be down. He headed toward the tack house to saddle Midnight. Climbing up onto the animal, he took off to investigate, glad to get away from everything for a while.

As he got closer,
he could see the birds pecking at something lying on the ground. Midnight startled them, and he watched as they flew away cawing and flapping their wings noisily, returning to their positions above. As he neared the carnage, he was startled to see a man lying in the grass next to the mud hole Clive had fenced off. Wasting no time, he slid off of his horse and raced over. Worried, thinking it was one of his men, he became enraged when he recognized Boyd.

"
You son of a bitch," he snarled, kneeling in front of Boyd and grabbing him roughly by the collar. Yanking him close, John's chest expanded with fury, as he glared down at Boyd. The man was taking quick breaths, and he noticed the way his body was laying. One leg, obviously broken, turned at an unnatural angle, and Boyd's face was a light shade of blue. He must've been thrown from his horse. He glanced up and scanned the field for the animal. All he saw was long stocks of yellow swaying in the breeze, and a coyote loping into some bushes.

"
What're…you…doin'…alive…Taylor?" he rasped, out of breath.

"
What are you talkin' about?" John asked.

"
You…and your…whole…damn family...should've…burned," he sneered.

John's eyes grew wide. "You bastard." He punched Boyd's face so hard he broke his nose. He felt satisfied hearing Boyd yell out in pain. Blood flowed from his nostrils down to his mouth. Boyd spat it out onto his chin. John suddenly realized why Boyd didn't wipe the blood away with his hands―he couldn't move his arms! He didn't try to run, because he couldn't move his legs either.

"
You're nothin' but a coward. A low-life. And if you didn't have a broken back, I'd kill you myself."

He
took shallow breaths, staring up at John through deranged eyes. "Do you think I care? Kill me, Taylor." He spit again, coughing as he choked on the blood in his mouth. "I don't give a damn about you or your bitch of a wife. You can all go to hell."

He
didn't care about his back or the fact that his face was already bloody and swelling. Boyd could feel from the neck up, so he hauled back and hit him again. But nothing would release the pent up anger boiling inside of him.

"
You tried to kill my family," he shouted, his face an inch from Boyd's. "You blackmailed my son and you tried to rape Livy."

"
No, Taylor," he whispered, his breaths short and forced. "I
did
rape her. Or hadn't she told you?"

The man
smirked.

John stared at him.

"
Before she came here, I slept with your woman, felt her body wiggle and squirm under me, as she cried and begged me to stop." Licking his bloodied lips, he leered at John. "It was luck that I ran into her after all this time."

"
You're dyin'," he said his jaw clenched. "And I'm gonna sit back and watch it happen. I'll be the last thing you see before you go to hell." He wanted nothing more than to beat the life out of Boyd, but deciding to let the bastard suffer, he sat back and waited for him to take his last breath.

"
I know you want to kill me, Taylor," Boyd egged him on. "C'mon, I know you…hate me." Blood slid from the corners of his mouth. "Hit…me…again."

John's fists scrunched open and closed beside him on the grass. He restrained his aching arms from fulfilling the strong desire to smash his fist into his ugly face one more time. A faint whistling sound escaped past Boyd's purple lips, and he watched as his head fell to the side and his lifeless eyes stared up at the sky.

Sitting up on his knees, he
growled low in his throat as he rolled Boyd's body into the mud hole. Watching the man sink into the black abyss, he felt no remorse for the bastard who had tried to kill his family.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Six days after the fire, John stood in front of the black pit where his house once sat. He hadn't been able to come over and have a look until now. The scene was too overwhelming. But time had done nothing to ease the dull throbbing in his soul when he stared down at the wreckage.

His head down,
he kicked at the bits and pieces of wood on the ground, when he saw something blinking up at him. Curious, he bent down and rummaged through the charred rubble, tossing bits and pieces to the side. He inhaled a sharp breath when he saw Becky's necklace. The heart-shaped locket, still attached to the chain, had been burned, melted and disfigured. He'd forgotten to put it in his pocket the day Livy was attacked. He let the chain caress his fingers, as it fell into his hand.

Closing his eyes,
he brought the chain to his lips and fought back the tears that wanted to fall. Becky's house no longer stood. Her dishes, her clothes, her books, her sewing―all had perished in the fire. There was nothing left. Not a trace of her remained.

"
John?" Clive knelt beside him.

"
She's gone," he whispered, without looking at his friend. None of Becky's things were here for him to call upon when he needed to be close to her. He wouldn't be able to open the armoire in their room after a long day out in the fields―missing her so bad he felt as if his heart was broke in two―and bring her dresses to his face to inhale her scent. He would close his eyes, and it was as if she were there beside him, calming him, so he could get through another day without her.