Читать книгу Married by Christmas - Karen Kirst - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Caleb thought he just might burst into flames. Heat licked his insides, a strange heat that had him battling the heavy covers one minute and his teeth clacking together the next. The pain was constant, as if a red-hot branding iron had been plunged deep into his flesh.

If only he could clear the fog shrouding his brain.

The sense that it was no longer night tugged his eyes open. Searching the chilly room, his gaze encountered a woman asleep in a rocking chair situated before the now-cold fireplace, wavy brown hair shot with copper streaks skimming her shoulders and features softened in slumber.

Becca.

For a split second, he was startled to see her. Confused. Why? How? Then the fog dispersed, and he remembered every disturbing detail. Sheriff Tate. Caleb had witnessed the cold-blooded murder of Cades Cove’s sheriff. And he’d been spotted, which meant his presence put Becca and Amy in grave danger.

“Becca.” Spurred by their predicament, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows. “Wake up.”

A medium-size, shaggy black-and-white dog of uncertain origins lifted its head to study him with curious eyes. Caleb didn’t recognize the pet, which meant he or she had joined the family within the past two years. While not much to look at, the dog must certainly be well loved. Becca was famous for her weakness for strays.

He called her name again, and she jerked upright, jade irises nearly eclipsed by wide, black pupils. She blinked. Focused on him. Sympathy and concern flashed across her face, tucked away the moment she became aware of his regard. All business once again.

Rising with the grace of a dancer, her movements lithe and fluid despite having slept in an awkward position, she seemed to float across the floor. He used to tease her that gravity didn’t have as tight a hold on her as the rest of earth’s population. Maybe it was her artistic spirit, her ability to see beauty in ordinary things.

Going to the kitchen, she dipped out water for him. Helped him drink the cool liquid, which heated as it slid down his parched throat.

“I need for you to bring Rebel to me so I can get outta here.”

Her fingers tightened on the glass. Plunking it onto the bedside table, her brows descended. “I will do no such thing.”

Stunned by the conviction in her voice, he slumped onto the pillow. He couldn’t recall her ever standing up to Adam this way. No sirree, she’d gone along with pretty much whatever his best friend suggested. Not that Adam would’ve asked her to do anything questionable. Or risky. That had been Caleb’s department.

“I have to get home.” He could send his brothers to fetch Sheriff Timmons. “Why won’t you help me?”

“You have a life-threatening injury, that’s why,” she retorted, exasperation twisting her mouth. “For once in your life, accept that you have limitations. You’re not invincible, Caleb O’Malley. Thought you would’ve learned that by now.”

The words hung in the air, the implication quite plain. She meant he should’ve learned his lesson two years ago, the night he’d dared Adam to break into the sawmill yard.

Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time he saw her. Back in August, he and his brother Nathan had been delivering milk and cheese to Clawson’s Mercantile when they’d crossed paths. Her derision and anger, entirely justified, had practically reached out and strangled the life out of him.

“I know how difficult this must be for you,” he scraped out. “No one would’ve blamed you if you’d left me to freeze out there. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but my family can take it from here. No need to impose on your hospitality any longer.”

Shock crystalized in the jade orbs. “You think I’m that coldhearted? You think I’d leave you t-to...” She flung out an arm. Emotion rippled through her lithe form. “Just because I despise everything you stand for doesn’t mean I’d wish death upon you.” Pushing hair away from her face, she turned her back on him. Stalked away from the bed.

“I didn’t mean to imply...” He sighed, frustrated at the weakness invading his body again. Waves of it, jumbling his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Becca.” For all of it.

Slowly spinning on her heel, ivory cotton housecoat flaring around slim ankles encased in thick, gray wool stockings, she shot him a probing look. “What happened to you?”

It appeared as if he was going to have to level with her. If she knew the danger he was putting her and her sister in, she’d no doubt pack him off so fast his head would spin.

“I saw something I shouldn’t have.” He debated how many details to divulge. Decided she was strong enough to handle the truth. “Sheriff Tate was murdered two nights ago.”

Trembling fingers lifted to cover parted lips. Eyes huge in her face, she came closer and sank down on the wooden chair facing the bed. “You saw this?”

Every last gory detail. The helplessness resurfaced in his chest. He’d never be able to oust Tate’s horrified expression from his memory. Never. “I was out riding later than usual, had delayed setting up camp because I’d decided to swing by my folks’ for a quick visit.” No use mentioning he’d planned to stop here first and leave parcels of fresh deer meat, something he’d been doing off and on since that encounter in August. Anonymously, of course. “I stumbled upon a nightmare. At first, they didn’t see me. Preoccupied with their prey, I suppose.” His lip curled with disgust. “They had him surrounded. On his knees, hands tied behind his back. The leader, she—”

“She?” Becca blurted, dumbfounded. “Surely you don’t mean...”

“Knocked me back, too.” He shifted, sucked in a harsh breath at the resulting ache. His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

“Do you need more pain relief?” She scooted closer, her too-perceptive eyes grave.

Beneath the covers, he fisted his hands. “No.” His brain was fuzzy enough without adding medicine to the mix. He had to focus on convincing her to help him get home.

“What was a female doing with a gang of criminals?”

“I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but to me she looked like...” His jaw tensed, picturing the bitter reproach marring the blonde’s features. “She looked like a woman who’d been rebuffed.”

“You think she and Tate were involved romantically?”

“Could be. Or she was interested and he wasn’t.” Only, why kill him if it was a simple rejection? This woman had seemed deeply distressed.

“There has to be more to it than that,” she echoed his unspoken sentiments. Tapping her chin, she mused, “Under what circumstances would a woman on the wrong side of the law associate with a lawman?”

“I don’t know.” Though the lack of answers bothered him, the main issue here was justice. “I do know how to identify them, however, and I aim to do whatever it takes to make certain they pay for what they did. That’s why I need to see Shane Timmons.”

Concern flowed over her features, and this time she didn’t attempt to hide it. “Did they get a good look at you?”

“Hard to say. I was positioned on the edge of a clearing, and there was a full moon. The storm was still south of us. I know for certain they saw Rebel.”

She nodded. “With his distinctive markings, he won’t be hard to identify.”

And if they did glimpse Caleb’s face, his scar would make it easy for them to locate him.

“Now do you understand why I have to leave?”

Popping up, she began to pace. “I can’t let you go.”

His heart suffered a series of palpitations. Oh, he knew she meant it literally, not figuratively. Still, the words hurled him backward in time to when they were teenagers, to when he’d envied Adam’s good fortune, had wondered what it would be like to have a girl like Becca—beautiful, sweet-natured, affectionate—head over heels in love with him.

He’d cared about his best friend’s girl a little more than he should have.

“You have to.”

She whirled on him, hot color splashing across her cheekbones. “I don’t have to do anything. You are not leaving until you’ve improved or the doctor comes to take you away.”

“Why, Rebecca Thurston, I do believe you’ve developed a backbone,” he drawled, fascinated by this unusual display of temper. Her eyes blazed with an internal strength not present when they’d been friends. What had happened in her life to forge such a change?

* * *

He’d noticed, had he? In his mind, she was still the naive, eager-to-please, hopelessly-in-love-with-love young girl with big dreams and an even bigger future. Well, things changed. People changed.

That love-struck teenager was long gone. Did he realize he was the one responsible for her disappearance?

“Yes, well, I’m all grown up now.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And I’m obviously the only one thinking rationally at the moment.”

Caleb didn’t immediately respond. The flicker of humor in his eyes sputtered out, and he studied her with his hooded, enigmatic gaze. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The old Caleb, rarely serious, had been armed with ready, lighthearted quips to combat each and every call to reason.

“My presence here is putting you at risk.” Why are you placing my safety above your own? his expression prompted.

Why indeed? He was right to be worried. The murder of a sheriff was a heinous crime, one that wouldn’t be taken lightly. Knowing this, the criminals responsible wouldn’t stop until they’d located the witness. If they’d seen his scar...

Shivering, she rubbed her upper arms. The fire needed to be lighted, Flossy milked and the eggs collected. Breakfast cooked. Bread made.

But first, this matter had to be settled. Because no matter what he’s done, I can’t in good conscience send him out there in his current condition.

“Even if I brought Rebel to the front door and helped you mount him, you wouldn’t make it past the property fence. Your fever is indicative of an infection.”

“The bullet could still be lodged in my leg. Did you check for an exit wound?”

Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I didn’t think to.”

“Is this your first gunshot wound?”

“Is it your first?”

“My first and only, I hope.” His lips compressed into a tight line, as if he was perturbed she’d ask such a thing. But how was she supposed to know what kind of life he’d led? He was rarely home anymore, preferring to spend most of his time hunting and trapping in the high country. A blessing, in her opinion.

“I suppose I’ll need to check it,” she reluctantly acknowledged.

Tending his wound while he was unconscious was one thing. Having him awake and watching her every move would strain her nerves to the limit.

A lump in her throat, she approached the bed and, folding the quilts back, checked the compress. “I—I’ll try not to cause you further pain.”

Eyes closed and face averted, he muttered, “Just do what you gotta do.”

Gingerly slipping her hand beneath his knee, she lifted his leg, wincing at the breath hissing between his teeth.

“No exit wound.” She carefully covered him, heart knocking against her rib cage. She knew what his next words would be before he uttered them.

“The bullet needs to come out.”

Dread settled like a pile of rocks in her stomach. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Caleb. I have very little knowledge when it comes to these things. Ma always tended Pa’s nicks and scrapes.”

Adam’s injuries had been tended by a doctor. Her responsibilities had been limited to giving him water and mopping his forehead with a wet towel. And holding his hand, offering her support, her unending devotion—which he ultimately rejected.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was any other alternative.” Regret was carved into his austere features.

“Give me a minute.” Although she didn’t really have a choice, she craved a moment to wrap her mind around the ghastly task facing her.

Crossing to the hearth on wobbly legs, she extracted logs from the firebox and placed them in the fireplace. Lit the fire.

“Time to go outside, Storm.” Stumpy tail quivering, Storm followed Rebecca to the door, diving into the snow that was in some places taller than her. The blast of arctic air stole Rebecca’s breath. While the snow had stopped, it was clearly too deep to attempt a ride into town on Toby. She’d hoped...

With a heavy sigh, she tied back the cheery yellow curtains on the windows on either side of the door. Tugging the lapels of her housecoat together at the throat, she returned to his side. Stiffened her spine.

“All right, I’ll do it.”