Harris Channing (18 page)

No, upon
arriving to the spot, his first concern had been silver. Then his grief became
his focus. He had been a blind fool.

"What
are you doing out of bed?" Bobbie shouted from the behind the wood she had
stacked. Damnation, she chopped wood, cooked, cleaned, nursed and until lately,
adored him. The perfect woman…but wasn't that Sarah's position in his mind?

"Shit,"
he mumbled. The momentary peace he felt dissolving once again into loathing and
despair.

"You
shouldn't be out here in your state," she said, the edge in her voice
something he didn't want to get used to.

***

"I
needed some fresh air," he replied, but he wavered and she didn't at all
like the way his feet dragged as he ambled toward her.

Setting
the axe down, she marched to him. What he needed was to be back in bed, or at
the very least sitting before the fire in the rocking chair. He hadn't eaten
much in days. There was no way he was going to be able to handle the terrible
cold that constantly nipped at her nose. If she hadn't been swinging the axe
and stacking the wood, she'd no doubt be miserable.

"You
shouldn't be out here. You're too weak," she said as she approached him.

"You
amaze me," he said, his gaze caressing her face in a way that warmed her
insides. "But I feel like less than a man for allowing you to take on the
responsibility of my chores."

Before he
had abused her in his delirium she would have welcomed the soft timbre of
voice. But now? She was suspicious, her heart hammering against the wariness
she felt.
"Is the babe mine? Tell me
Sarah. Tell me!"
The words, laced with loathing still rang horribly in
her ears.

"Your
chores?" She shook her head. "These were my chores growing up. No
hardship, I promise." What was the matter with her? Why did she always try
to make him feel better? She should be asking him if he killed his wife, should
be grabbing up her clothes and running down the mountain. She should be doing
anything but standing beside him, noticing how green his eyes were, or how very
handsome he looked despite the pallor of his skin.

He
offered the smallest of smiles. "Thank you, Roberta. You are indeed an
angel." And when he stepped forward, her instincts had her stepping back.
Never again would she allow herself to be abused by him. Never again would he
have the opportunity to pin her to the wall and kiss or shout at her.

"David,
when you’re feeling better, the paddock needs some repair as do several of the
boards in the stable."

He
watched her warily. "All right. I suppose the place is in need of a lot of
attention."

"Yes."
She nodded. "Also, the chimney needs cleaning, the floors a good scrubbing
and there are cobwebs all over the ceiling."

"Noted."
He smiled and she wondered if perhaps his beard hid a dimple in his left cheek.
There was an obvious divot. She bit back her aggravation. What the devil was
the matter with her? Why did she have to feel such a strong pull toward this
drunken beast?

"Good."
She turned away, hoping a little distance and a little more wood chopping would
ease her discomfort. So much to do and God knew she needed to make another trek
to Reg's house. Not to see that scoundrel, but to see her family. To make sure
they were still resting in peace and that nothing or no one had disturbed them.
Again, the realization flushed through her on wings coated with the sickening
strength of adrenaline. They really weren't coming back. When would she get it
through her head, that this was her new reality…this bleak, cold, heartless
place.

"Bobbie,"
David called to her, but she kept walking. Unwilling to share the hurt that
always crept in when she remembered that her family was gone. Would she ever
learn to fully deal with the loss? Even when she thought she had, it forced its
way through her denial and rattled her mind, heart and soul.

"Yes,"
she said, hoping he didn't hear the tremor in her voice.

"You
don't ever get over the loss. You simply get used to it."

She
stopped walking. It was as if he had read her very thoughts. "Are you used
to it?" she asked, still not facing him.

"Just
about." His whisper had her turning toward him. His eyes were misty as his
gaze traveled the length of her. "Mostly because you have helped pull off
my blinders. Your strength, your compassion, your kindness and selflessness has
reminded me that there are truly good people in this world."

She
swallowed the threat of tears that clogged her throat. "I don't know
David. I’m not handling the tragedy very well."

"Yes,
you are. You haven’t allowed yourself to wallow. You work, you care for the
animals…and me. You are a remarkable woman."

She let
out a humorless laugh, a laugh that verged on maniacal. What did he know of her
struggles? She cried every night until she fell to sleep. Waking was something
she only did because Alfred needed her to. If she had her way, she'd lie in bed
and weep until she dehydrated and turned to dust! Just because he was unaware
of how she struggled didn't mean she didn't. The man was an oblivious fool!

"I'm
not remarkable." Her lower lip trembled as she allowed her tears to fall.
"I am miserable."

He came
to her and lifted his arms with the obvious intention to draw her into an
embrace she would have welcomed just a few days before. The loneliness of her
existence struck her hard, yet she would not allow him to touch her.

She stumbled
back. "Leave me alone, David. I will do what needs to be done but I want
nothing from you." She dabbed at her tears and turning away, went to
Alfred. The furry troublemaker was the only one she would take comfort from.

***

David
watched her walk away from him, his heart aching. He’d noticed the way she
squared her shoulders and the anger that flamed in her eyes. She finally
understood the real him. She finally knew what he was capable of. The countless
hours pushing her away had worked. So why the hell did he want to run to her
and beg her for forgiveness?

Leave her
alone? How was he supposed to do that? They shared a tiny cabin and besides, he
didn't want to leave her alone. He wanted to stare at her, to memorize
everything about her. Wanted to share stories of her life. Leave her alone?
Definitely not something he aspired to do.

The urge
to go after her had him taking a hesitant step forward, the snow underfoot
crunching. But what would he say? He knew women well enough to know that
whatever had turned her bitter, was no doubt something she'd share with him
when she was ready. Damnation, he wished he knew so that he could once again
enjoy the admiration she used to offer. The way she looked at him, the way she
smiled was damn near as addicting as the booze. He stared at her as she knelt
beside Alfred and wrapped her arms around the cur's thick neck. Oh, to be that
dog!

He took
another step but was forced into stillness by sickening dizziness. His stomach
roiled and his heartbeat sped up two-fold as the world tilted on its axis. He
grabbed hold of his head and closed his eyes, praying the sensation would pass.
He'd had to sleep on the bed with his foot on the floor because of too much
booze, but never because of a lack of it. He sure as hell wouldn’t faint in
front of her…again.

On legs
that threatened to crumble beneath him, he slogged through the snow and toward
the cabin. Perhaps he had pushed himself too hard, but what sort of man left a
woman to do all the man's work?

Realization
soaked him in dread. Why had he allowed grief to rob him of five years? He had
been a decorated soldier, for God sake. And he had allowed guilt to become the
center of his life!

He pulled
open the cabin door and slammed it behind him. Guilt, he finally accepted that
didn't truly belong to him. Yes, he should regret his decisions, but Bobbie was
right. He wasn't wholly responsible for what had happened to Sarah. The only
thing he was truly responsible for was her unhappiness. And he had had every
intention of rectifying that.

"Is the babe mine?" he said through gritted
teeth. "Tell me there's no chance the child you carry belongs to
another."

"I-I can't be sure, David. Please forgive me. It was
the loneliness that made me do it. Reg was here while you spent countless hours
in the mine."

"I did that to fill our bank so we could leave come
spring! I told you that. How could you betray me? How?"

"Please." Sarah's sobs echoed through his mind.
"I love only you."

"Who's next to fill your bed? For it will not be me.
As for the child, when he is born we will see if we can sort out this mess…but
regardless, we are through."

She reached out to him, her hands warm on his arms.
"Please, don't leave me. I love you, I truly love you. What you witnessed
was my saying goodbye to Reg. You have to believe me, it was a fleeting affair.
One that I will regret to my dying breath."

He pushed away, the proximity of her body leaving his heart
broken and mind filling with bitter angst. "I will not leave you or desert
a child that could be mine. But I no longer consider you my wife."

"Where are you going? We need to talk more. You need
to hear my side. It wasn't like Reg and I were involved long. Just the one
time, I swear and it was while you were at the mine for three days without
coming home." She reached up and grabbed the sides of her head, her raven
hair cascading through her splayed fingers.

"There was no stopping you from walking the half mile
to the mine to see me. I would have welcomed your companionship and possibly
your help."

"David, I felt unimportant, overlooked."

His ire surged. "Everything I do is for you, Sarah.
Don't you know how much I loved you?"

"Loved?" she said, her lips aquiver as her tears
sped from her eyes. "Are you saying you don't love me anymore?"

"I'm going to the post. Perhaps Henry has some idea as
how to get you off the mountain and into Colorado Springs. I'll hire someone to
see you to Tennessee."

"David, please…"

"Please what? Forgive you for your infidelity? If I do
I may very well have to do it again and again. You are proven liar,
Sarah."

"And what about you?"

He cocked a brow. "What about me? I have been faithful
to you…was faithful to you even when I believed you were engaged to
Jasper."

Her sorrow turned to anger. "You give me all I
want…but never all I need."

"And what do you need that I don't provide?"

"Someone to listen to me…"

Opening the door, he stepped out into the bright sunshine.
The last words between them spoken, and the true reason for his guilt
discovered.

If only
he had stayed to listen to what she had to say, perhaps her death wouldn't have
occurred.

Slouching
on the bed, he covered his face with his hands and for the first time since
finding her lifeless body, he allowed himself to shed true, honest tears.
"Forgive me, Sarah. I should have listened."

Chapter 15

"Do you realize it's been near two weeks since I had a
drink?"

She
looked up at him from her sewing. She'd have britches and not have to ruin
anything that belonged to Sarah. Scraps of her old clothing and quilting
squares would work just fine and in no time she'd be able to rush through the
snow and not worry about her hem. Being fashionable was stupid if you lived in
a place like this. The notion that one needed finery when there was so much to
do was irritating and out right crazy.

"I
suppose I should get moving," he said from his seat before the fire.
"The sun is up and Ned will be wanting his breakfast."

"Do
you want anything? I've porridge in the pot and I can make some coffee."

"That
would be nice, but when you're done sewing. If you don't mind my asking, what
are you working so hard on?"

She
shrugged. "Pants. I need pants."

"A
gal in britches, huh?"

"And
why not?" She hated the curt tone she seemed to have in her voice whenever
she spoke to him now. But what was she supposed to do? Pretend to herself that
she wasn't worried that'd he snap and once again make her wonder if he was a
murderer?

"Just
never met a woman in pants before."

"We'll,
I'm not your typical woman," she said, shifting, the straw mattress
crackling beneath her.

"No,"
he said pushing back in his rocking chair and warming his stockinged feet by
the fire. "That's true enough."

She
wanted to ask him just what he meant but she remained quiet. It did no good to
rile a bear whether he was drunk or sober. And she didn't suppose he was drunk
when he pinned Sarah to the wall. If that anger was the last thing Sarah saw,
she felt sorrier for the woman.