Benjamin (19 page)

He stared at the girls, but didn’t reply.

“Henry is hungry but I think it would be best if he stayed out of the kitchen. Could you rustle up some food for him?”

“He can stay here with Margaret and I’ll go get some food.” Meredith, that was the girl’s name, raced into the house.

Grace led Henry over to the chair she’d vacated. There was a dog sleeping beside the rocker, an indeterminate mutt that raised its head when Henry approached. He plopped down beside the dog and started petting him.

“I’m going to go check on Mr. Ben. You stay put with Margaret and Meredith until I come back.” Grace didn’t wait for a response. She kissed his head before she stepped back into the house.

The coppery smell of blood filled the air. Rebecca was stitching Benjy’s side while Eva handed the doctor clean bandages. Another woman, whom Grace assumed was Hannah, Matt’s wife, took the soiled bandages and dropped them into a bucket of boiling water.

Cat paced behind them with Rory, criss-crossing each other in the kitchen. Grace finally looked at Benjy. He was paler than the crisp white bandages. And he was still unconscious.

“How is he doing?” Her voice was hoarse and startled everyone.

“Duffy! I mean, Grace.” Cat walked over and squeezed Grace’s hands. “You said you had to get your son but I didn’t know you had one.”

“I’m not ready to tell that story right now, but I will.” Grace was exhausted beyond measure. She trembled with fear and hunger, panic and a ridiculous amount of hope. “How is he doing?” she repeated.

“Rebecca is doing her best. He had five bullets in him.”

Five bullets. Ben should have been dead already. The good news, he was still fighting. Grace wanted to go hold his hand but she didn’t want to get in the way. She stood back and watched the doctor work while Cat and Rory resumed pacing.

Every so often, Ben would grunt or moan as Rebecca worked. She focused so hard on the doctoring, she blinked away the sweat until her sister-in-law wiped her forehead. The air shimmered with tension and unsaid words.

Grace inched closer, desperate to touch Ben. She had been afraid before, more than she wanted to remember, but this was bone deep terror that Ben would die. He’d become so important to her and was the reason she’d found Henry. Without him, she wouldn’t be Grace again. She would have wandered Texas as Duffy, unhappy, alone, and desperate.

Instead, she’d found Henry and she’d found love. She’d found Benjy. Life couldn’t be so cruel as to take the man away from her now. Grace had had little to celebrate in her life, more tough times than good. She knew deep in her bones, the opposite would be true if she had Benjy in her life. There would be love, joy, and family.

She was under no illusion that their lives would be carefree and happy every day. But they could face the bad times and savor the good times together. If only he survived, and if he agreed to marry her. Grace had already decided she would ask him when he woke up.

When
he woke up, not
if
. She wouldn’t think the worst because hope was the only thing she had control of. She clung to that hope with both hands.

“Pardon?” Grace started to realize the older woman, Eva, had been talking to her.

“I said Rebecca is done with Benjy. You are his friend,
sí
?”

Grace tried to gather her thoughts. “Yes, I’m Grace Beckett.”

“Welcome, Miss Grace.” Eva’s smile was welcoming. “Why don’t we have some coffee and sit outside? He will sleep for a while.”

Grace didn’t want him out of her sight, but she was going to fall down if she didn’t sit. Plus, she’d been away from Henry for at least an hour. She needed to take a breath of fresh air and coffee sounded like ambrosia.

“Yes, please. That would be lovely.” Grace managed a small smile for the older woman.

“He will survive. He’s a fighter, our Benjy.” Eva patted her hand. “Come,
hija
, tell me how you met.”

Grace looked at Benjy, asleep or unconscious on the table and swathed in bandages. His sister Rebecca was at the sink washing up beside Hannah. Eva was right, he needed sleep to heal more than he needed Grace to stand guard over him.

“That’s a story that requires coffee.” Grace helped Eva gather two cups of the steaming brew and went outside. Perhaps talking would make the time pass.

Perhaps Benjy would wake up and their lives could truly begin.

*

Ben was tied
down again. He fought against the bindings, but remained trapped. The shadows moved around him, confusing and muddled. Pain thrummed in tune with his heart. Every breath was excruciating. He didn’t understand what was happening or where he was.

All he knew was that he had to get up and run.

The need to escape grew with each passing moment. Ben didn’t like being restrained by anyone or anything. Whoever held him captive had done a great job of keeping him tied. He could barely move his little finger.

There was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was. A woman’s face kept swimming through his memory but he couldn’t grab hold of her. She kept calling him but every time he reached for her, she slid away.

“Don’t you give up on me, Benjamin Graham.” Her voice was husky, perhaps from lack of sleep or maybe it was annoyance with him. Her blonde hair swept across his skin and he shivered.

Gentle hands replaced the painful bindings. He leaned into the touch and sighed when a cool cloth bathed his face. He fought against the darkness that tried to pull him back down. He needed to wake up.

He needed her.

More female voices, but the woman he wanted, she seemed to be gone. He wrestled against the constraints again.

“Grace, you need to come back!” This from another woman’s voice.

Grace.

That was her name. Beautiful Grace. She was tough but soft, beautiful but wounded. She was the perfect woman for him.

If only he could escape his prison.

“Benjy, if you keep fighting us, we’re going to have to tie you down,” she whispered in his ear, her voice soothing. “I know you want to live. We have unfinished business, you and me. I love you and I hope you love me.”

I love you, Gracie.

The words, again, were unsaid.

Ben drifted into
consciousness. One eye managed to open and recognized he was in his room at the Circle Eight. What had happened? He’d gone after Cat and James who chased the stolen horses, but that was months ago. Days of being alone, being in the woods, talking to no one and hiding.

Memories of what he’d done before then slammed into him. He’d killed a man, Manfred Cunningham, with his fists. He’d broken something inside him when that happened. That was why he’d run, not because of the few of being arrested—that was an excuse.

He hid from himself and the violence that lurked inside him.

Then his lonely, desolate existence had come to an end when someone found him. She was a woman named Grace who had shot his hat off. She’d forced him to come back to life and throughout their adventure he’d fallen in love with her.

There’d been a little boy and another Cunningham brother. Shooting and pain. Hot blood and more pain. Now he remembered everything, including his foolhardy plan to ride through the remaining outlaws to draw their attention away.

Ben managed to get the other eye open and looked to his right. A woman sat in a chair next to his bed, her head lolling forward in sleep as she snored lightly. Blonde hair escaped the sloppy bun at the back of her head, which appeared to be held together with a pencil stuck in the middle of it. Her beautiful blouse was missing its sleeves and the rest was spotted with dark, rust-colored stains.

Grace.

He tried to say her name, but it came out more like a kitten’s mewl. Annoyed at himself, he tried again.

“Guhhhh.” It was something, although it wasn’t a word.

She stood up in an instance her hands fisted. She blinked and appeared to come into full consciousness. She looked down at Ben and the smile that spread across her face made his heart flip.

“Benjy.” She knelt beside the bed and put her palm on his forehead. “No fever. Thank God.”

“Hwwww.” Still not a word but she must’ve understood him.

“It’s been about two days. You lost enough blood to kill you but you survived.” A sheen of tears filled her beautiful green eyes. “I’m so glad I didn’t lose you.”

She pressed her hand against her mouth and looked away as though the emotion was too much to bear. His throat grew thick and the center of his chest hurt. It wasn’t physical pain, though.

It was love.

Finally, it made sense. Everything he’d seen his brothers and sisters do with their spouses had always confused him. At this moment, looking at Grace by his side, it all made sense.

Ben tried to move his arm to touch her, but his attempt brought a shaft of pain that made stars dance in his vision. He must’ve made a noise, because Grace moved closer, her face full of worry.

“Don’t try to move or speak. Your sister pulled five bullets out of you, not to mention a few grazes on your skin. Almost every part of your body was injured.” Her voice had grown harder as she spoke. “If you want to survive, you need to heal, and that means lying there and letting me take care of you.” She poked the pillow beside his head instead of his chest but she was fierce as hell.

And damn beautiful.

He managed to grunt in response to her orders. “Uh.”

She cupped his face and kissed him, her lips warm and soft. “I love you.”

He once again tried to tell her he loved her but nothing came out but gurgles and grunts.

Grace kissed his forehead. “Now you need to have some broth and then sleep.” She left the room and he found his eyelids already closing.

He needed to find a way to stay alive and tell Grace how he felt. She brought him back to life. It didn’t matter how long it took him to heal as long as he survived long enough to tell her.

I love you too, Gracie.

Perhaps he might be good enough to earn that love.

‡

G
race stomped into
the kitchen with a basin full of dirty bandages and a chip on her shoulder. She wanted to throw something or punch someone. Possibly the cantankerous ass in his bedroom. It had been two weeks since Ben had been shot and they’d arrived at the Circle Eight. Her hand had healed after punching Dominic, but Ben’s recovery hadn’t been as smooth.

He had healed, although it had been a slow process. The amount of blood loss and wounds had been compounded by his lack of sleep and the mad race back home from the compound. Being confined and nursed had turned him into a temperamental five-year-old.

“He’s at it again, isn’t he?” Hannah Graham was an amazingly patient woman. She had children, a husband, and more crises on a daily basis than Grace could keep track of. Yet she was calm and helpful every moment of the day. Not to mention her long brown hair always seemed to be tamed in a tight knot at the back of her head.

All of the Grahams had been so very helpful. They’d put Grace and Henry into a room for sleeping but during waking ours, her son insisted on being in Ben’s room. He sat in the corner and played or drew on a slate with chalk. His talking had ceased again but he ate and allowed her to hug him. One day at a time.

“Complains about everything. From the itching on one wound to how numb his backside is.” Grace crossed her arms and scowled. “It’s worse than having a little sick child.”

“He was always a bad patient, even when he was a little boy.” Hannah smiled, her brown eyes filled with warmth. “Why don’t you go take a walk or a ride? I can watch over Henry and Ben.”

Grace nodded and walked from the house, her stride as choppy and fractured as she felt. She loved Ben, that was without question, but how did he feel about her? It certainly didn’t seem as though he loved her as well. Not given how much he’d snarled and snapped since he’d woken fully from being unconscious. No matter what she did to help him, he wasn’t happy to have her there.

Maybe it was time to take Henry and go find a new home. They still had property where the house and barn had burnt down. She could pitch a tent for now and build a sturdy structure before winter. Starting fresh would be good for both of them. Grace could be like the phoenix and rise from the ashes of her previous life.