Harris Channing (13 page)

"Is
that a fact?" Blood slid from Reg's split lip. "I would marry her
here and now if that was what it took to see her away from you! The likes of
me? You've a nerve…you drunken sot." Reg snarled and shoved him backward
with a force that had David reeling toward the ridiculous bed.

What the
bloody hell was the matter with him? He should have been able to put the
sniveling fool down with one blow. It was a sickening realization that instead
of being the stronger of the two, he and Crocker had become physical equals.

"Look
at you, defending a dead woman over a live one. And what a beauty Roberta
is." His eyes grew soft with his obvious contemplation. "I can almost
taste her sweet kiss, feel her body writhing under mine. Do you think she and I
would make strong, handsome sons?"

The
thought of his hands on Bobbie had him seething. "You'll not find out, I
guarantee it."

"You
can't guarantee shit," Reg growled and then with a smirk, "Except
that you'll be drunk come morning."

He fought
back a fresh surge of anger, knowing he could spend all day taking out his
unspent rage on Crocker. Instead, he turned toward the door. Bobbie was
outside. She needed him and suddenly that was all that mattered. He didn't stop
to think why.

"Where
are you going, Henderson?"

David
didn’t reply, his mind on only one thing, being there to catch Bobbie if she
fell. But upon hearing the thud of booted feet rapidly approaching from behind,
he spun around just in time to see Reg flying toward him with a raised silver
teapot. He lifted his arms to block the coming blow, but once again his
reflexes proved to be faulty and the pot smashed his skull, leaving him to fall
helplessly to the floor.

***

Bobbie
struggled to stand, wishing she didn't have to. Wishing she could merely sink
into the floor and never rise again. She sniffled, still staring at the faces
of her family. They were still so beautiful, still all she had.

Yes, to
be with them…

With her
body numb from sorrow and her cheek stinging from frozen tears, she fought for
a reason to go on. Wondered how she would move from this spot. And then came a
stirring from deep inside. She knew without a doubt that giving up would be
wrong. That wasting her life would displease them. She bit back another sob and
could almost hear her father.

"Bobbie girl. Time for you to get up off your backside
and get on down the road."

She could
almost feel the warmth of her mother's embrace and see the love in her pale
eyes.
"We'll be together soon."

And
Robert? A small smile touched her lips. He would pinch her arm, kiss her cheek
and remind her that she was just a girl. The taunt that always annoyed her now
had her rallying.

"H-How
am I supposed to move forward?" she asked, waiting for one of them to
answer, knowing none of them could. "I love you all. I don't know what to
do."

"No
one expects you to do anything on your own."

The sound
of Reg's voice both appealed and abhorred. Where was David? She turned toward
Reg, a fine silhouette against the open stable doors, but there was no joy in
his appearance.

"The
wagon, our things," she said, her voice unnaturally low and
emotionless.
 
"Were you able to save
anything?"

He
lowered his chin and shook his head.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
There was an
accident and the wagon slipped off into a ravine."

"I
only just wanted our Bible and maybe Ma's lace."
 
She set her hand to her lips.
 
"The horses are lost, too?"

"Yes."

"I
see." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Why would God rob her
of every shred?

"I'm
sorry, Miss Roberta," he said, his voice soothing. "So very
sorry."

The words
were right, the person saying them wrong. "W-Where is David?"

Reg
remained quiet for a long moment and dropping her hands, she gazed at him,
expectantly.
 
He finally spoke. "He
wouldn't quit until I made him."

"You
didn't kill him, did you?" Her words came out in a whisper as fresh panic
surged, followed quickly by anger. "He's not well!"

"No,
of course not." And before she could move, he was by her side, slipping
his arm around her waist, supporting her. Despite her better judgment, she
leaned against him, begrudgingly glad for the help. Her legs quaked as she
grasped at his jacket, hoping she wouldn't fall, because if she fell, she
feared she would just keep falling and falling and falling…

He
continued to hold her close and despite her discomfort at his proximity, she
didn't have the fight in her to push him away. What was the matter with her?
She couldn't tell what was up and what was down anymore.

"You
shouldn't have come out here by yourself," he remarked, his voice soft
with concern. "This is too much of a burden for you to solely carry."

"I
am not alone," she said, more and more of her strength ebbing. But she
knew it was a lie. She had been alone since she fell and lost consciousness.
Even though David had been in the same room, he wasn't really there.

"No,
you're not, you've got me. I admire your courage, you must know that."

"Thank
you, but I need to see David," she whispered, no longer wanting his
support. "I want to get him home."

"I
don't think that's a good idea, Miss Roberta."

"What?"
she struggled against his bothersome hold, her heart strumming hard against her
ribs. "Why?"

"I
had to knock him out to get him off of me…"

"Let
me go" she shrieked. "He needs help. He's a sick man."

"Yes,
he is," Reg said with a condescending nod. "Too sick for you to
help."

She
continued to resist his grasping fingers. "Let me go and see him. He saved
my life Mr. Crocker. I owe him some form allegiance."

He sighed
and stepped aside, releasing her. Relieved, Bobbie seized her freedom and
stumbled out of the barn and into the brilliant white world. With her eyes
burning from fatigue and tears, she glanced over her shoulder. What she saw had
her stopping in her tracks. His face was battered, his split lip oozing with
fresh, red blood.

"You
owe him nothing," he said obviously ignoring her surprised expression.
"He's not worthy."

Maybe he
was right, but David was a known quantity. He wouldn't hold her against her
will, invade her space or touch her unless she welcomed it. Despite the shock
the day's events presented her, something deep down warned her against this
man. Something she would not ignore.

Sighing,
she glanced over her shoulder at the three forms lying just beyond the open
barn door. "I belong with him, I know that or God would have sent me north
to you instead of south to him.

"Don't
be foolish," he said, his face flush as he obviously struggled to keep his
composure. "Perhaps God wanted you here. Why else would I have been the
one to find your family?"

She took
a few steps away from him, yet he followed close behind. His expression spoke of
his determination and frustration.

"Please,
you're fine on your own. He is so lost."

His lips
dipped into a sorrowful frown. "I know I cannot convince you. But promise
one thing, Roberta."

She
lifted her eyes to meet his intense gaze. "What's that?"

"That
when he hurts you, breaks your sweet heart, that you'll come to me for help. I
am not fine on my own. I am lonely here. I have much I want to share and I am
certain you and I could do very well together."

Good Lord
she didn't know how to respond to his request. He was handsome, by all accounts
kind, but the simple truth was, she didn't like him and when he looked at her
as he did now, she wanted nothing more than to hike her skirts and run.

"And
if he insists on taking you to the trading post, please come here instead. The
post is no place for a woman…especially one that looks and smells as sweet as
you."

"I-I--"

"Please,"
he interrupted. "I won't sleep for worrying if you tell me no."

"Of
course, I won’t tell you no. Options are good and I thank you for tending to my
family until spring."

He bowed
before her. "That, Miss Roberta, is my sincere pleasure. I only wish I had
found them sooner, for that I am sorry."

"There
is plenty of blame to go round, Mr. Crocker, but none lies at your feet."

She
wasted no more time with him. Instead, she hurried toward the cabin, careful
not to slip as she mounted the stairs and climbed up the porch. Apprehension
dogged her heels as she pushed open the cabin door. What would she find? What
fresh horror awaited her already blistering eyes?

Her heart
flooded with relief upon seeing David sitting up, and cradling his head in
cupped hands. "Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling by his side.

He looked
at her through splayed fingers. "I'm a sorry excuse of a man."

She slid
her hand around his shoulders. "No, you're not."

"Will
you help me?"

Help him?
Of course, she would help him. She would do anything for him. Didn't he know
that? Hadn't she made that quite clear? She wanted to focus on him, to see him
restored and to forget herself and her sadness for just a moment or two.

"I'm
a bit dizzy from a good crack to my hard head," he mumbled. "I don't
think I can stand on my own.

"I'll
help you," she replied as disappointment strangled her moment of triumph.
He didn't want her help with his life. Still, she would take solace in the fact
that he wanted something from her other than her absence. Standing, she offered
both her hands. He reached for her wrists and grabbing firmly the pair worked
to move this mountain of a man.

Rising,
he again grabbed his head, his body swaying. Without thought, she wrapped her
arms around his waist and took pleasure in the way he leaned against her for
support. Savored the feel of his body next to hers. It was so natural, so
pleasurable to be near him. Why didn't he feel it too? Why was it Reg wanted
her with an almost desperate need and she recoiled at the thought of him,
whereas she welcomed any and all attention David offered.

"Will
you help me get to Ned? I need to get home."

"Stay
here," Reg said, blocking the doorway.

"No,"
David ground out. His body tensed beneath her touch. "I'll not turn my
back on you again."

She
flashed Reg a questioning glance. "What?"

"I
was trying to come to you," David shouted. "The bastard stopped me
with a teapot."

"Mr.
Crocker!"

"You
saw how he attacked me," he said, his face flushing with anger. "It
was self-defense, I assure you…y-you can't possibly believe him over me. He's
probably drunk for God sake!"

"Not
today, I'm not." He swallowed hard before staring down at her. "Are
you going to help me home or not?"

"What?
You're not forcing her to go to the trading post?" Reg shouted, his voice
rattled against the cabin walls. "Why the change?"

"You
know why," David said, squaring his shoulders. She watched him bow up like
a rooster about to fight another rooster. As big and strong as he was, he was
in no condition for another round of cock fighting. Not when Reg hadn't been
lost in a bottle for five years. "I can't trust you not to bother
her."

"Bother
her? I like her and if she likes me in return, what business is it of
yours?"

At Reg's
admission, a shiver of revulsion chased across her already exhausted body. She
didn't like him for something deep inside warned against the man. Something she
couldn't explain or ignore.

David teetered
slightly and she increased her hold hoping to keep him from tottering over.
"Do you like him?" David asked, suddenly glowering at her. "Do
you want to stay with him? If you do, say so now and I'll leave on my
own."

Heat sped
to her cheeks. Why was he asking her these things with Reg looking on? She
wanted to slink away and hide but instead she seized the moment hoping to get
what she so desperately needed from him. "Is staying with you an
option?" she pressed the matter, not wanting to stay but also not wanting
to go where she wasn't wanted. "I don't want the threat of the trading
post hanging over my head every time I do something that displeases you."

He kept
his gazed pinned on her, his expression growing soft. "I ain't much, but
if staying with me is what you want, I won't argue. I swore to keep you safe,
that's what I want to do."

"He
wants you under his thumb, just as he wanted Sarah under his thumb." Reg's
face grew dark as fresh blood slipped from his lip.

"I
failed Sarah, I won't fail Bobbie, too," David vowed and leaning in he
offered her the saddest of smiles. "Come home with me."