Harris Channing (11 page)

He offered her a crooked smile.
"Now, just how do you know that? I may need to piss."

"Don't be coarse," she
huffed. "But if that's the case then take your coat and put on your boots,
or better still, use the pot. Honestly, you make me afraid for you. I don't
know how you've survived out here the way you drink."

Who the hell did she think she was,
scolding him as if he weren't damn near twice her weight? Grabbing her by the
shoulders he pressed her none to gently against the door. "Did you ever
think I don't want to survive? Did you ever even consider that I welcome death?
That I'm jealous that your family is with Sarah and bitter because I'm stuck
here…with you?"

At her shocked intake of breath he
was instantly sorry, but he didn't stop his tirade. "I need to be with
Sarah…"

"Shut up!" she shouted
and pulled free of his sloppy grasp. Her eyes flashed her derision as she
lifted her hand and delivered a sobering slap to his cheek. "I'm sick to
death of you feeling sorry for yourself. You're not dead and if Sarah loved you
even a little then she would be appalled by your behavior."

"And who are you to speak for
her, Bobbie?" his words slurred and an angry surge of heat sped to his
aching cheek. "You wear her clothes and yet you pale in comparison."

He expected her hurt to register on
her countenance, yet she remained still, her angry expression an untouchable
mask. "That makes two of us, for you pale in comparison to the man I know
you must have been. I see glimpses of him from time to time. He is the man I
let kiss me, not this simpering wastrel I see standing before me. Not the
drunkard who stumbles around here feeling as though his pain is more important
than anyone else's."

Her defiance aroused him nearly as
much as her beauty and yet her words hit their intended mark. "Don't think
for a moment that I don't feel sorry for you or loathe your loss."

She relaxed a bit and her lower lip
trembled. "But it's nothing to you because I feel it. All you can think
about is yourself."

"No. I think about you, but I
won't allow you to wither here as she did." Without thought, he lifted his
quaking hand and gently brushed a curl from her face, his fingertips lingering
on the cool skin of her cheek. "There's more life at Henry's and come spring
I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

She audibly swallowed. "I
don't want to go anywhere," she confessed. "My closest friend is
married and living with her husband's family. They've no room for me. My family
is all…" Her eyes glinted with tears. "You know where all my family
is. And our things are worth very little.
 
Just a family Bible and a few trinkets." Fishing out the gold
locket from the pocket of her skirt, she smoothed the intricate etching.
"All I have is this." She held it out to him. "Take it, please."

He took a step back, wavering a
bit. "I'm not taking that. Why would you want me to have it?"

"As payment for saving my
life, it’s very obvious that no matter how much I want to, I can't return the
favor."

"You keep that, I want no part
of it. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do." Her
expression was somber as once again sorrow ran from her eyes.

"Then why not do the right
thing for yourself?" she cried. "Why can't you save your own
life?"

Biting his lower lip, he
contemplated the question. "I don't know."

She ran her fingers through her
tangled curls. "Please, promise me you'll at least consider forgiving
yourself. Live the life you're given and pull yourself from the misery of the
past."

Her plea touched him and yet the
notion felt like an impossible dream. "Why?"

"Because it's what Sarah would
want…and it's what you need."

He stared at her, unsure how to
respond. Yes, he was angry that she thought she could speak for Sarah. Yet, he
couldn’t deny that the words soothed his aching soul. "How do you know
what Sarah would want?"

"I'm not an extraordinary
woman but I do know that when someone I love is in pain, I do anything within
my power to see their hurt eased." Her tenderness had him stumbling back
toward the fireplace. Tears stung his eyes and gripping the mantle, he buried
his face in the fold of his arm.

"Words can't fix the error in
my judgment."

"Mistakes were made, but you
are not responsible for the deeds of others." Her voice was soft, her tone
pleading. "I could easily blame my father for what has happened to my
family--"

"Don't you?" he asked,
looking at her through bleary eyes. "Don't you blame your father for
venturing into the mountains this late in the year?"

She paused, her sadness, her
confusion all marring the beauty of her face. "I suppose I could. But he
made a mistake…a mistake that cost of all of us dearly. And he's paid for it,
just as your misery has paid for yours."

He turned away from her and stared
down into the orange embers of the dying fire. "He paid for his sins with
his life, Sarah paid for my sins with hers. Don't you see the difference?"

"Yes, the circumstances are
somewhat different but only because he perished and you survived. David, my
father would have blamed himself for losing his family had he lived. But he
would not have wasted his life as you do."

"And you know this how?"
he asked, certain someone so young couldn't argue this particular point. After
all, how could she?

"Because, my mother is his
second wife."

David dropped his arms and stared
at her. "What?"

"My father's first wife died
in childbirth."

"But that isn't his fault. He
didn't think that when he planted his seed his wife would die."

"And he didn't think a
blizzard would blow through the mountains and you didn't think some base human
would come in here and harm Sarah."

For a brief moment the anvil that
rested upon his heart lightened. "Of course, I didn't think that. Had I
known I would have taken her from here the first time she asked. Had I known
she would still be alive as well as our child."

She wrapped her arms around her
middle. Good Lord she looked so small, and vulnerable. "And had Pa known
we'd all be back home, sitting around the fire while Ma read to us." She
sniffled and set the back of her hands against her mouth. "My dear David,
we cannot stop what we do not know is coming."

He faced her now, the gift she
offered so tempting. But if he accepted it and forgave himself, then what?

Chapter 9

"I don't know if I can do
this," Bobbie said as David helped her mount the shaggy chestnut gelding.

"You don't have to," he
replied, swinging up in the saddle behind her. "I can take the locket and
see if the boy in the portrait alongside you is your brother."

The warmth of his body had her
relaxing just enough to ease the tremble in her jaw. "I won't truly
believe it until I see for myself and that perplexes me."

He gently tapped the horse's flanks
as they moved toward the woods. "How so?"

"In my mind I know that they
are gone, but my heart rallies against the logic."

"That's normal," he
replied, his warm breath smoky in the cold wintry air. "It'll all come too
clear soon enough and you need to prepare yourself for how truly terrible the
realization will be."

"How can I do that?"

His chest rattled with a heartfelt
grunt. "I wish I could offer you a proper answer. But at least you'll have
me to catch you if you fall."

She turned her head and stared up
at him for the briefest of moments. His features stern, not giving her even the
remotest sense of the warmth his words had offered. "Will I?"

His gaze grew almost soft with
emotion. "No worries on that, all right Bobbie? I'm here and will be for
as long as you need me."

The tiniest bit of relief touched
her heart. "No trading post?"

He looked away, and without
answering merely turned the horse into the woods and down a narrow track of
snow that clung to the small path below. The beauty of the meandering trail was
marred only by a single set of footprints.

Regardless of his silence, she took
comfort in his innuendo, for God knew the cabin was the only place she wanted
to be…in the warm little home with David. For despite his gruffness, she knew
deep down in her heart that he would never do anything to her she didn't want
him to. She swallowed hard. Lord help her, she did want him to do things to
her. Things she knew were wrong.

Memories of his kiss flooded past
her grief and a need for him spiraled up from deep within her. Her heart ached
for his touch as much as her body.

Leaning against him, she took
comfort in the support of his lean, strong body. Savored the warmth he
provided.

"Does anything look familiar
to you?" he asked his words coming in a raspy whisper.

"No. Not really for when I was
lost all I saw was a fury of moonlit snow."

"We're coming up on the spot
where I initially found Alfred. Poor beast was near frozen over there." He
lifted his arm, and pointed toward a small clearing beneath scraggly pines.

"Thank you for seeing to
him."

He lowered his arm and once again
held her in his protective circle. "I'm not a monster," he said.
"I'm just a heart broken drunk."

Without thought, she set her
mittened hand atop his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I see so much more
than that," she mumbled, hoping he didn't hear her.

"Don't Bobbie," he said
and she removed her hand. "Don't make me into a hero. I'm not. I just did
the right thing."

She stiffened wishing just once he
would take a compliment instead of tossing them back at her with scorn. He was
just so infuriating! She jerked forward, the protective circle broken.
"I'm not making you into a hero, but you are the man who saved my
life."

He leaned in, his mouth close to
her ear. "I am that man, but you owe me nothing. Remember that."

A chill raced through her at the
heat of his breath and the iciness of his meaning. He still wanted her to be
gone. Still wanted to drink himself into oblivion and to die alone in the cabin
that Sarah haunted.

Her ire surged. Hadn't they made
progress last night? Hadn't she gotten through to him? "Whether you
realize it or not," she said evenly, "I owe you my life and I would
like nothing more than to see your existence improved."

"Enough!" he shouted, his
voice echoing through the eerie stillness of the snow shrouded wood. "You
are powerless to help me. Know that now. The only way I will change is if I
choose to. If that occurs, I will let you know. But do not hold your sweet
breath for waiting."

"Stop the horse, please,"
she managed to say without yelling. He was too close, his nearness too much.
She needed to get away from him. His words hurt her more than any others. Why
did he garner so much power? Why did he matter so much? Worse, why did she
matter so little to him?

"No."

"What?" she asked leaning
back, hoping to knock his arrogant ass out of the saddle.

His face was hard, uncompromising.
"I will not stop Ned until we reach Crocker's place. I will not stop until
you are satisfied that your family is gone, just as I won't stop until you are
safely placed in a comfortable life."

Pushing her away. Why was he always
pushing her away? Rage sped to her cheeks and the stifling feel of his body so
close, yet his heart so very far away, had her wanting to fall into the chill
of the snow. "I need you to let me walk. I am so very tired of fighting
with you. I don't want to be near you at the moment for your words are as cold
and unfeeling as your heart."

"My words are not meant to
hurt and believe me they are filled with feeling. But I’m being honest with
you, Bobbie. I need you understand that letting me be is what you need to do. I
am who I am, accept that and stop trying to change me."

"I want to help…"

"I know you do," he said,
the edge leaving his voice. "But it's a fool's notion that you can fix
what's irreparably broken."

Grief tugged at her heart. "I
don't want to accept that you're broken."

He laughed, a dry, sorrowful laugh.
"You're going to have to."

***

Reg Crocker's home rested past the
far edge of the forest. It was similar to David's cabin, but the place was
larger, with more than one window. The biggest difference however was the fact
that David had pressed the back of his home into the shelter of a valley, where
Reg's sat proudly atop a hill. With the protection of the woods gone, the wind
whipped at Roberta's face, her hat and scarf providing little protection from
the elements.

"Told him when he settled to
set the place lower. Wonder how much wood it takes to keep him warm? And I
don't suppose he packed between the logs very well."

His contempt for Reg was hardly
held at bay. "I know you hate him because of his attraction to your wife.
But surely, you can forgive him for his interest. After all, she was from all
accounts a perfect woman…" Dear Lord, what was the matter with her? Why
was she baiting him at a time like this?

"Enough," David grumbled
in warning. "I'll not be dragged into yet another argument with you."
Pulling Ned to a stop in front of the cabin, he dismounted and secured the
beast to the hitching post.

She watched him and wished with all
her heart that he would change, if not for her, for himself.

As if reading her mind he looked
up, his lips pinched tight beneath his bushy mustache. His eyes flashed with a
stubbornness that would make even the nastiest mule cower. "Come on girl,
let's get this over so with so you can commence to healing." He lifted his
arms and she slid from the saddle, her feet sinking in the snowy ground.

Trapped between his body and Ned's
she stood still, staring up into his face, attempting to see the man she knew,
the kind man who had saved her, the man who made her body hum. "What makes
you think I can heal when you couldn't?"