Lori Connelly (5 page)

“Get the hell away from my wife.”

Mr. Sims backed up, hands in the air, “I meant no harm.”

“Ride off.”

“We need to disc-”

“Between his eyes or legs, Sweetheart?”

The banker paled. He hustled to his horse, mounted and rode away at a swift pace.

Evie darted to Ben’s side, caught him as he started to sag.

"I might need your help getting back to bed."

“What were you thinking?” With one hand, Evie grabbed the rifle, set it inside against the wall while she placed herself under his right arm for support. “You’ve probably torn your stitches.”

"You’re worth it.”

“Oh so now you remember me?”

“No.”

The stark word felt oddly like rejection. It stung. Her gaze dropped to the toes of her boots. Self-pity weaved through her emotions. Jaw tight, Evie stepped forward. This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself. She needed to get Ben inside.

Together they staggered into the cabin and across the room to the bed. Evie did her best to help him ease down onto the mattress but couldn’t fully support his weight. He fell in the process. She hovered close, worried, until Ben reached up and cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

"I’m fine,” Her voice faint Evie moved out of reach.

Her gaze moved to his shoulder as she pulled the quilt up to his waist. The activity left white linen stained red. She fetched a rag, water and clean cloths then returned to him.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I am fine,” Evie removed the bloodied bandage then started to wash the area.

“All right,” Through gritted teeth, Ben pushed out terse words. “So what happened out there?”

Evie rubbed a hand over her eyes. “It’s-”

"Complicated?"

“No, not really, just,” Evie paused, took a breath. “Let me finish this first.” Her nerves sang with shock. She had a difficult time gathering her thoughts. “The stitches held.”

“Good.”

Emotions at once sunny and ugly twisted in her. Evie was thankful he’d saved her and yet angry with him too. The banker wouldn’t have been in a position to accost her if not for what Ben had done. She kept her explanation simple.

“You sold our place to that man, Mr. Sims. He wants us gone, now. I asked for a little time.”

“For me?”

Evie nodded.

“Then he attacked you?”

“Well in exchange he … he wanted … ”

“You.”

Again, she answered with a silent nod then stood while he cursed. She went over to the open doorway. Her gaze swept the terrain. Pleased there was no sign of visitors, she picked up her basket and shut the door. Without a word, Evie slipped on her apron and started to make breakfast.

“Why did we sell?”

“
We
didn’t,” On edge, she snapped.

“I thought you said th-”

“You sold it.”

A tense moment stretched between them. “You didn’t agree?”

“No.”

“We argued about it?”

“Yes and no.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t give me the chance before.” She cracked all five eggs into a bowl then, agitated, and whipped them vigorously with a fork. “We had words when you told me.”

“Is that what
complicated
our relationship?”

Evie poured frothy liquid into a pan. “It didn’t help.”

He was quiet for a time. She felt him watching her but didn’t look back at him. When Ben finally spoke, his tone seemed reserved.

"What were our plans?"

“I wanted to stay,” She stirred up the banked fire, added wood. “You wanted to move.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

Tiny, growing flames held her attention for a moment then slowly Evie shook her head. She positioned the pan so that the eggs would cook. Despite the fire’s warmth she trembled. With a soft exhale, she spooned coffee into the pot, filled it with water and hung it to heat.

“Maybe we should buy the place back from Sims?”

“Why would you do that?”

“It seems important to you.”

“It always was,” Bitterness, sharp and painful, seasoned her words. “Anyway even if it were possible, Mr. Sims wouldn’t do us any favors.”

“Why wouldn’t it be possible?”

One hand squeezed the back of her neck. Again, she felt his gaze on her but didn’t look up. “You left with all our money and returned with nothing but your clothes.”

“Why did I do that? Where was I going?" Ben demanded his tone impatient.

"I don’t know. We argued. You left.”

“Why’d I leave?”

Her sigh filled the room. “I said things had to change.”

“What things?”

His persistence irritated raw nerves. She stopped stirring the eggs and looked over at her husband. “Why don’t you rest and we’ll talk later?”

“Why not now?” Ben challenged, one eyebrow lifted, his head tilted to one side.

With a towel wrapped around the pan’s handle Evie carried it up to the table and filled their plates. “It’s difficult.”

“Avoiding what’s hard doesn’t make it go away.”

Startled she almost dropped the heavy cast iron pan. Her gaze flew to the man across the room, eyes wide. Those words, spoken with gentle conviction, had once been familiar. A lump formed in her throat. It’d been years since she’d heard him say that sentiment without the taint of sarcasm.

“Evie?”

“Yes,” She breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“You alright?”

Was it possible?
Hope flickered. Her fingers tightened on the towel. Had memory loss returned Ben to the man she’d fallen in love with? Evie put the empty pan down on the hearth.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

With plates in hand, Evie crossed to his side. She put them down on the dresser then helped him to sit up. His hand reached out, caught hers before she could move away.

“Evie,” He paused, waited until she looked at him, his expression earnest, "I need to know what’s wrong with us.”

“It’s not pleasant.” Her gaze dropped to their hands.

Ben released her. His arms crossed over his chest as she straightened, “I assumed.”

“Fine,” Evie sat in the rocker, hands clasped tight in her lap, gaze focused on the wall behind Ben. “Your latest grand plan failed.” She heard the sour bite in her tone and tried to even it. “So you started to drink again. You were furious, bitter.” In spite of the growing warmth of the day, she shivered. “Gambling and cheating our neighbors soon followed. Your standard answer to life’s unfairness.”

Ben touched her knee, drew her gaze. “You said again.”

“What?”

“I was drinking
again
?”

“Yes.”

“Gambling again?”

“All of it,” Her voice strained, weary, “again.”

A number of minutes passed before Ben responded. “It seems I haven’t been a good husband.”

“At times,” Before she would’ve seized that admission and pounded her point home with the strength of her resentment. Now with his memory loss her sense of honor deemed it unfair. “And at others you’ve been the best. And sometimes while I wasn’t a good wife.” She held his gaze a moment then stood, “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Evie handed him a plate, a fork beside the food. Without pause, she walked back to the fireplace. She poured coffee into a couple mugs, sweetened each with honey then returned.

“Here.”

Ben balanced his plate on his lap then accepted her offering, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Conversation died. Evie took a sip of her coffee then put it on the dresser, picked up her plate. She sat in the rocker and started to eat. Minutes went by with silence broken only by the sound of forks scraping plates.

“Evie?”

Reluctant to resume the discussion, she allowed some time to pass before she looked up at him, “Yes.”

“If it was so bad, why’d you stay?” His expression tense, still, as if carved from stone.

“I loved you.”

“Loved as in you don’t now?”

Her patience frayed. “Loved as in I don’t know you anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

His calm statement set her teeth on edge. “How would you know?”

“From you, you said we’ve been married five years.”

“You don’t remember that.”

“But you do.”

“Yes,” her voice emptied of emotion. Appetite fled. She put her fork down. “I do.”

“Then you should know me quite well.”

Evie shook her head. “You changed.”

“The drinking?”

“Among other things.”

“But you said that’s all happened before.”

Agitated, her left leg bounced rapidly. “Your point?”

“It seems to me the problem was that I hadn’t changed.”

“It was different this time,” Back ramrod straight, Evie stood.

“How?”

Evie walked over, set her plate on the table. “You became …  bitter sooner, got worse faster.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Did you ask me?” He persisted.

Restless she strolled around the room, moved things here and there, “No.”

“Why?”

“You were like a rifle half cocked, about ready to go off all the time and I didn’t want to argue.”

“So you ignored what I was doing?”

Her lips parted then pressed together. She shook her head, searched for words. “We’d fought about it so often in the past that it was already present between us. You knew how I felt.”

“But you said I rode off the day I was jumped because we’d argued.”

Evie nodded. “I couldn’t let things continue.”

“So you confronted me.”

“I tried to talk to you. It didn’t go well.

“Because I told you I’d sold the homestead?”

“In part,” Her answer clipped, to the point. “I couldn’t take anymore broken promises and my flat refusal to move angered you.”

“But by your own argument, this place is gone.”

One hand rubbed over eyes gritty, painful and dry. "You don't understand.”

"I was in the wrong, sold our home, lost the money, and am laying here useless while you do all the work.”

“Ah …  ” She looked up, stared at him. Benjamin Rolfe was a passionate man given to intense bursts of emotion rather than calm acceptance. The matter of fact response sounded surreal.

“What don’t I understand?”

Evie looked away, stared out the window. With a tremor in her voice, words spilled out. “For years you’d convinced me it was best if we moved on, that fortune would smile on us down the road.” She turned back to face her husband. “Once upon a time, I wanted the pretty visions you’d paint but I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore.”

“Then I’m not the only one who changed.”

The observation stunned her. She hadn’t thought of it that way. His troubles so dramatic she’d always focused on what he’d done, how he was different. Words came slow as Evie sank down onto her rocker.

“You married a girl with girlish dreams and I grew up. I don’t want a mansion on hills laced with gold. I want simple things. A husband I can trust and a home. The same home year after year surround by friends and family.” Her voice fell to a strained whisper. “I’m done chasing rainbows.”

Their gazes locked an uncomfortable quiet fell. A long moment passed before Ben disturbed it. He reached out, clasped her hand and drew her close. His breath caressed her ear, sent heat over her skin. “I’ll make it right.”

Confusion swept through her. Unable to make sense of how she felt, Evie jerked her hand free, leaned back. Her feelings raw, she wanted to escape, run out into the woods and hide but forced herself to stay. She couldn’t continue to run away from difficult issues, not if she wanted to resolve them.

“How?” Evie tilted her head to one side.

“You could choose where we go.”

Disappointment brought soft sorrow, “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“How about somewhere near family?”

“Other than a brother
somewhere
in the world that I haven’t heard from or seen in years, you’re all I have.”

“Well at last, something we have in common.” His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.

“No, you have a couple of distant cousins in Oregon.”

“Oh I forgot about that.” A wry smile came and went in a matter of seconds. Ben hesitated. “We could go there.”

A tangled storm of memories and emotions churned inside her. Bitterness found her voice. “Of course we could and no doubt it’ll be wonderful. I’m just being silly.”

“I didn’t say you’re silly.”

“No you just think another move will make everything all better.” Her response growled forth without thought.

“You’ve made it clear that isn’t the case nevertheless we have to move. It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

“I know.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. The fingers of her free hand smoothed out a winkle in well-loved fabric.

“It’ll be all right.”

“Stop saying that,” Unrest bubbled too close to the surface for more than the illusion of calm. A muscle twitched along her jaw. Irritation laced her voice. “You don’t know that.”

“I believe it and that’s half the battle.”

Evie shook her head hardly able to trust her ears. “You used to say that all the time.”

“And you didn’t like it?”

“Sometimes,” Anger drained quietly away. Evie managed a brief, polite smile. The person that earned her displeasure was right beside her and yet not. Could she hold him accountable for actions he didn’t remember? “It frustrated me.”

“Sorry. How abo-”

“Could we drop this for now?”

“Mr. Sims will be back, I think sooner than later.”

“I know,” she rubbed the hard knot of tension between her brows then met his gaze. “A couple hours?”

Ben shifted nearer to the wall and patted the bed beside him. “Lay down beside me. Let’s both get some rest.”

“I … ”

“That chair can’t be comfortable to sleep in and you look done in. Come on, I’m in no condition to try anything.”

Worn down by sheer exhaustion, she couldn’t resist the lure of comfort. Although it was mid morning, Evie crawled onto the mattress. She stretched out beside him. Her eyes closed. She waited, ridged as a board. Ben didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her breathing deepened and she relaxed.

Loud knocking on the door ripped her from a deep, dreamless slumber. She sat up as Ben called out. “Who’s there?”

“Sheriff Green.”

“Be right there.” Evie rolled out of bed. She took a few seconds to pat down her hair and smooth the apron down then crossed the room to open the door. “Please come in.”

The lawman stepped inside. She closed the door, waved him toward a chair. “Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“No thank you,” expression serious, he took off his hat.

“What brings you out Sheriff?”

Her gaze swung to her husband. Evie was surprised to see that he sat on the edge of the bed, hunched, legs off the side, feet on the floor, the quilt preserving his modesty. “Did you come to talk to my husband about those men?”

“What men?” Ben asked.

“His memory returned?”

She looked back at the sheriff, “No.”

“What men?” He asked again, more insistently.

“Then there’s nothing I can do.”

“Evie,” Ben’s tone, loud, firm, commanded attention. She turned and faced him. “What men?”

“The ones who attacked you. The ones who are getting off scot free.”

“You mean you know who did this to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well I’ve been a little bus-”

“Folks I’m here on another matter, official business.” The Sheriff interrupted.

Evie blew out a breath. “You mean, Mr. Sims.”

“Yes ma’am. Sims claims he was threatened.”

“He was,” Ben confirmed without hesitation then bluntly laid out what happened.

The sheriff was quiet a moment. “Were you hurt Ma’am?”

She shook her head. “Ben ran him off before he could do anything.”

“I’ll speak to Mr. Sims at length when I return to town.”

“Are you going to arrest my husband?”

“No, this is a private dispute, his word against yours.”

Ben scowled but to her surprise said nothing, restraint she’d never witnessed before in her husband. She used to joke he was only quiet asleep. In recent years, that was also true when he was hung over. Was he changing?

“Mr. Sims also had me verify his claim to this homestead. He has the proper paperwork. It’s on file at the bank if you wish to see it yourself.”

Evie went numb. She glanced at Ben. He shrugged. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I’m here to serve notice that you need to vacate.”

She didn’t bother to argue. “We’ll need a few days.”

“He’s insistent on today and has already hired some muscle to ensure you’re gone. I plan to ride out with them and keep it peaceful but at best, you have a few hours.” The sheriff put his hat back on and quietly took his leave.

In shock, arms wrapped around her waist, Evie closed her eyes and struggled not to cry.

“It’ll be okay, darlin’. We’ll start fresh-”

Evie held up a hand. “Don’t.”

“I-”

“No more empty promises,” Her tone hollow, she opened her eyes held his gaze a minute. “I need to start packing.”

“Do we have a horse or wagon?”

She sniffed, “Both. Sugar’s in the barn. Wagon’s behind it.”

“So we need to harness up the horse and bring it around?”

“Yes,” Her voice beyond tired, sounded defeated.

“I’ll help.”

She shrugged, too heartsick to protest and deep down, some part of her wanted him to suffer a little, for all the trouble he’d caused them. For leaving her when she needed him most. Without a word, she dug clothes out of the dresser for him and helped him put them on. Ben’s face was pale and covered with sweat by the time she fastened the last button on his blue and red checked flannel shirt. Once Evie finished tying his boots, she stood, handed him his hat then trudged outside.

Ben reached the barn as she led the mare out. In silence, they hitched up Sugar and had her pull the wagon around to the front of the weathered building. It didn’t take long to gather up their tack, tools, the last bag of grain and half bale of hay. Three chickens remained. Since they still owed Dr. Black for treating Ben’s infection, she left them, hoping they’d be fair payment.

Next Evie moved the wagon beside the cabin. Back inside their home, Ben insisted he still wanted to help but the sight of his ashen face finally pierced her emotional fog. She made him sit in her rocker.

“I can help,” He protested but his voice lacked strength.

Evie didn’t waste time being polite. “You’re about ready to collapse and if I have to stop and tend you, that doesn’t help.”

Without waiting for a response, she stalked across the room to take the large basket off the wall. She set it in the middle of the table and started to fill it. Her cast iron pots and pans went in the bottom, the small amount of dishes they had next, a quilt used to layer and cushion around them. Evie then moved on to the dresser.

In minutes, she’d emptied the drawers onto their bed. Her brush, soap and some clothes went into an old carpetbag that had been her mothers. Grief squeezed her chest, and she had to pause, take a deep breath before she could continue. She stuffed two pillowcases with sheets, towels and washcloths then stripped off the bedding, folded it all. Pillows in hand, blankets cradled in her arms, she headed to the wagon.

“Can I help now?”

Heading back inside, Evie paused in the doorway, studied Ben a few seconds. Some color had returned to his face. “All right let’s get the mattress.”

Ben got to his feet and followed her across the room. They carried the straw stuffed pallet out and swung it up, into the wagon bed. He walked back into the cabin slow, sat back down heavy.

“Let me catch my breath and I’ll help with the dresser.”

“No need all the furniture except for my rocker came with the cabin and can stay.”

“Oh,” Ben sounded stunned.

“It’s easier to travel without much,” Evie pulled off the curtains and wrapped the lamp with them. “It’s why we brought so little with us.”

“Why don’t we have more? Haven’t we lived here for years?”

Evie shook her head, “Almost one.”

“Almost one? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

“Why did we come here? Where did we live before?”

Impatient, Evie sighed, loud. She picked up the basket and headed for the door. “Can we talk about this later?”

“You say that a lot.”

Frustration shaded with resentment filled her ears. It struck a cord. She paused, faced him. “I …  It’s hard to remember everything you don’t.”

“It’s hard not to remember.”

“And it’s hard to discuss some things.”

“But you’re the only one who can answer my questions.”

“After we’re done loading up,” she stifled a groan then stepped into the doorway. “I’ll answer some, I promise.”

Evie didn’t wait for an answer. She carried her burden out to the wagon then returned. In minutes, she cleared the table, everything off the walls and from underneath the bed. Before she packed the special wooden box, she removed the loaded pistol and put it in her skirt pocket. Only her rocker remained. As Ben carried it outside to put it in the space she’d left open, she went back inside the cabin.

In the center of the room, Evie stood and turned slowly around. Her gaze swept over every inch to ensure that she’d missed nothing. She hadn’t. Hours ago, the cabin had been a home. She shivered. Now it felt empty, barren.

A blue jay perched on the wagon seat, chiding her with it’s song as Evie walked outside. For a second she stared at the annoying bird then looked around for Ben. He wasn’t hard to find, he’d wound up the clothesline with the clothes on it. She stalked over, snatched the stuff out of his arms then went back to the wagon, threw it in. The jay, startled, took flight.

“What were you thinking?” Arms crossed over her chest, she swung around to glare at Ben.

His breath audible, he reached her side, leaned against the wagon for support. “I wanted to be useful.”

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed.”