Tried and True (Wild at Heart Book #1) (14 page)

Why was he so attracted to this woman?

Why didn’t Sunrise come after him with her bow and arrow? Hadn’t the woman moved out here to protect Kylie?

Well, she was mighty poor at her job, and Aaron could think of nothing but taking over Kylie’s protection. He’d move her to town, arrange for the land to be sold to Coulter, then take Kylie so deep into the mountains she’d never get back East. She’d just have to adjust to life as he laid it out for her.

He’d do his best to keep her happy until she forgot there were such things as tea parties and fancy clothes.

Maybe a few babies would keep her busy. The thought struck him so hard he managed to break off the kiss. Both of his rough hands were sunk deep into her richly colored hair.

The moon shone down on the peaceful pond to the south of the cabin. Standing together in the shadow of the porch, Aaron rested his forehead against hers and tried to gather his wits.

“What are we going to do about this, Kylie?”

A breeze hushed out of the aspens and pines. Kylie was silent for so long, Aaron decided she had no answer. He filled the silence with more kisses.

Finally she said, “Why are you so determined to go on west? You said you left hard feelings behind, but you also left your roots. You left beautiful land and the valley that was your home.”

“Not hard feelings. Hate. Soul-destroying, murderous hate.”

She had no response to that, and he pressed his lips to her forehead and held her tight.

“I want to be in your arms, Aaron, but the thought of moving even farther from civilization is crushing my heart until there’s no room for anyone in it.”

“No room for me, you mean.” Aaron tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He fought the urge to clench his hands deeper in her hair and kiss her until she agreed to give up everything, even her dreams, to be with him.

Something he wasn’t willing to do for her.

“Do you hate your home so much?”

“I love my home, Kylie. You can’t imagine how beautiful
it was. I own hundreds of acres of lush valley handed down through three generations on my father’s side. Our cows were fat, and we grew flourishing crops in tidy rows. We had an apple orchard and honeybees, pigs and chickens. It was a prosperous farm. A river ran close along one side, full of fish. Father and I and my little brother used to spend every Sunday afternoon, all summer long, with a line in the water. Mother and my sisters would come out with cake and lemonade, and we’d spend time under an oak tree that’d been huge from my grandfather’s earliest memory. Our roots there were as deep as that oak tree. We’d have fried fish rolled in cornmeal for supper, so fresh and crisp it was like heaven to chew.

“No life is perfect, but it was a fine, comfortable life, one I felt was due to the country we lived in. That’s what made me fight for the North, to preserve the Union. I saw it as preserving the life I loved.”

A sad chuckle from Kylie distracted Aaron from his story. “My life was somewhat less perfect.”

He thought of her cantankerous old father and knew that had to be the absolute truth. “Well, my life changed, thanks to that war. When I got home, the farm was gone. My family was dead. There were no graves to visit.”

“But the South has been defeated, and you fought for the Union. Surely—”

Aaron cut her off. “I heard different stories from people who might have reason to lie, but I believe the Rebs killed my family because of me. My parents, my two sisters, and my little brothers were killed because I fought for the Union. . . .” His voice became unsteady, and he stopped talking before he shamed himself by weeping.

“Aaron.” Her arms tightened around him.

The guilt and pain he carried daily nearly broke him, until it was as if only Kylie’s slender but strong arms held him together.

When he felt steady again, he went on. “Our property was one of many farms split when Virginia divided into two states. Some of our land was in West Virginia with the North, but the bulk was with the South in Virginia. The Confederacy used our farm and many other places along the border to attack West Virginia and Maryland. They entrenched themselves and harried the citizens right across the Mason–Dixon line through most of the war.”

Kylie eased away from him, and instantly he missed her closeness. Yet he knew she shouldn’t be in his arms if they had no future together. Then she surprised him by taking his hand and leading him to her rocking chairs.

They settled in and rocked as a hoot owl cried. Gentle splashing came from the pond as the spring spilled in, sending little waves toward the grassy shore. Ripples on the water picked up the moonlight.

“The day came when the South got their army right up to the outskirts of Washington, D.C. It’s said that Abraham Lincoln came out on the balcony of the White House and watched the war. Some said he was within rifle range—that’s how close the South got to taking the capitol.”

“I heard about that.” Kylie reached across the small space between their chairs and took his hand again. They rocked in time under the beautiful evening sky. Aaron loved it out here, so far from those old, ugly wounds. He’d gotten away. He’d escaped the hate. Except, of course, for the memory of it that he still had to carry.

“After the Confederacy nearly overran Washington, the Union decided they had to take back that land, the Shenandoah Valley. They used what they called a scorched-earth attack. They burned everything, killed or captured every man, woman, and child they found, burned every haystack and the crops in the fields, as well as crops that had been harvested and stored. They slaughtered livestock, leveled every building, and left nothing in their wake. They did it so there was no way the Rebs could survive on the land that had been razed. That was what I came home to. My family killed by the South, my land destroyed by the North. Everyone hated everyone. No matter which side you supported, there was plenty of reason to hate both.

“I was determined to start over, even though I had no heart for it. My nearest neighbor had lost everything and everyone too, but he’d fought for the South. He was a friend from childhood.”

Aaron fell silent as he remembered that moment when he’d gone to the door of Nev’s root cellar, all that was left on his land. Living underground like an animal.

Kylie leaned toward him. “What happened?”

After years in the war, Aaron had thought he was good at covering his feelings, but somehow Kylie realized this was the worst of it, the real reason he’d left the Shenandoah Valley.

Silence stretched for a long few moments as Aaron steadied himself again, and for the first time he tried to put that hurt into words.

“I had a friend, my best friend, Neville Bassett. The two of us and Nev’s big brother, Leonard, were inseparable. We grew up together, ran in the woods together, complained
about school and chores, swam in the creek. We built a raft and spent hours every chance we got floating down the river and hiking back, pulling the raft on a rope. Every summer we built a bigger raft, a better one. We hunted, played robbers and cowboys, and . . . and war.” Aaron’s throat went dry, and he had to swallow hard.

Kylie’s hand let go of his and slid up his forearm to clasp his arm just below the elbow, as if she wanted to lend him the strength and courage to go on.

“Lenny was the leader of our little gang of outlaws.” Aaron couldn’t remember it without affection and terrible pain.

Kylie’s hand tightened even more.

“When the war broke out, Nev and Lenny fought for the South. They were both in a fury to think the powerful government in Washington would tell the states what to do, said no real American would stand for it. Neither of our families owned slaves, but it wasn’t about slaves to them. It was about freedom. But all I could see was a fight over keeping slaves or not. Why would Nev and Lenny risk death to preserve slavery?” Shaking his head, Aaron closed his eyes.

“I still can’t believe we fought that war. I kept thinking it would end. To me, saving the Union was a worthy cause, yet what kind of father sends his sons out to fight and kill and maybe die so slavery can go on? I thought for a long time that finally those powerful slave-holding fathers in the South, who were financing the war and pushing for it, would say, ‘It’s not worth my son’s life. We quit. End it now.’ But they never did.”

“The war was as brutal as it was,” Kylie said quietly,
“because both sides were American, and Americans don’t know how to lose. Both sides came to the conflict with the thirst for freedom that made this country great. That’s why it was fought to the death.”

“Ugly, stupid waste of lives.” Aaron remembered the worst of it. “The day came when I faced on the battlefield the Southern Army of Virginia, the unit Nev and Lenny were in. I never saw them; I didn’t recognize any of the men we fought that day. I hope and pray that no bullet of mine was involved when Lenny was killed. But what difference does that make? I was shooting others from my own state. Nev knew what unit I was in. When the war was over, I went to his home. It’d been destroyed just like mine. I was so lonely and heartsick from my family’s death. I hoped we could mourn together.

“Nev told me Lenny was dead. I remember his exact words. ‘I swear before God that if you had any family left, I’d shoot every one of them and make you watch, and then I’d finish by killing you.’ Then Nev grabbed his rifle and fired. He was in the cellar, and the rifle caught on the door and went off. He was half mad. Maybe more than half. He was dressed in rags, thin to the point of starvation.” Aaron paused, again swallowing hard. “I ran. He chased me through the woods near our home for hours. It was a terrible deadly version of the games we played when we were young. I finally lost him and went back home, but he was lying in wait for me there and almost killed me. I knew that if I stayed, I’d die. Or I’d have to kill my best friend. I couldn’t stand the thought.”

Aaron looked away from the pond to Kylie, and met her gaze. “And if I go back, that’s what I’ll face. What’s
worse, if I took you, you might die along with me. Nev wasn’t the only one who hated me and blamed everything on me, but he was the worst because we’d been friends. His hatred was what I couldn’t bear.”

Aaron let out a sigh. “After Nev attacked me, well, before that I’d been blaming the Rebs for my family’s deaths. Once I saw Nev, though, I started having nightmares of me killing him, and him slaughtering my family. I still have those dreams. He isn’t the only one guilty of hate.”

“I have them, too,” Kylie admitted, giving his arm a squeeze.

Aaron needed to stop talking and hear Kylie’s story. What all had she seen?

They exchanged a long look, and too much passed between them. Too much, at least, for a man and woman who couldn’t be together. Aaron looked back to the water.

“I’ve never said that out loud before, Kylie. That the hate wasn’t all on Nev’s side. I blamed him and my neighbors for my misery. I grieved for my parents and turned that grief into hate for everyone. Sitting here, in this peaceful place, finally I can admit that—and know that it’s wrong.”

“War and hate, hard to have one without the other. You need to try and hate a man to make yourself kill him.” Kylie’s warm hand slid back down to take his. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. Talking about his loss seemed to lighten it somehow.

Frogs sang in the night, and a splash on the pond drew his attention. He watched as a beaver made its way across the water, leaving a widening V behind. It had gotten late as they talked, and he still had a long ride home ahead of him.

Getting away from Shenandoah had seemed like he was
getting away from the feelings, but now he realized he’d carried the hate west.

“There might be places in the Bible that men can debate,” Kylie said. “Places hard to understand, and folks differ on the meaning. But not when it comes to hate. It isn’t allowed. ‘Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.’”

The beaver reached the far side of the pond, the rippling behind it continuing on.

“I haven’t for a moment done any such thing,” Aaron said.

As the gentle sounds of the night soaked into his mind, he felt the sweet strength of Kylie’s presence and the sway of the rocker and found his first prayer in far too long. Cold knots he hadn’t known were there eased in the deepest part of his heart and soul.

He prayed he could let go of the hate. Let go of the guilt.

This night, this woman, and a loving God made it possible. A weight lifted from his shoulders as his simple prayer came to an end.

None of his problems were gone. He’d left enemies behind that made it impossible to go back home. And he was coming to care for a woman whose dreams were the exact opposite of his.

If he wanted to go on loving Kylie Wilde—and he most definitely did—he had to convince her to join their lives somehow. But once they were joined, it was even more unthinkable that they’d go to Shenandoah. Because if he did, he’d lead her straight into misery. She might even die if he took her home. He couldn’t risk that.

And he had one more problem above all the others. Someone had tried to burn Kylie out, and they hadn’t cared
much if they ended up killing her. Those varmints were still out there, no doubt plotting to try it again.

Maybe the West was no better than the East.

Thinking of those who had attacked her straightened his shoulders. He needed to deal with Kylie’s enemies. And he’d start right now.

“I need to get on home, Kylie.”

Her chair stopped so suddenly he wondered if she’d forgotten he wasn’t here to stay. She gave him a wide-eyed look, and those hazel eyes glittered in the moonlight. He saw fear, and it was all he could do not to drag her out of her chair and into his lap.

He had to leave before he did just that. “I’ll look around in town and ask some questions, see if I can get to the bottom of who attacked you. You’re in good hands with Sunrise.”

She could probably keep Kylie safer than he could. A humbling admission.

“Come back anytime, Aaron.” Kylie gave him a sad version of her beautiful smile.

Admiration for her blossomed into something else, something more. Something he was just going to have to learn to live with . . . or rather learn to live without.