Married by Christmas (21 page)

Taking hold of her shoulders, he eased away so that he could look her in the eye. “I’ve never been more proud of you, Rebecca.”

Tears shimmered in the luminous depths. “Don’t call me that. When you do, it means you’re worried. Or angry.”

He was both of those things, of course. Letting her know that would only burden her further. Forcing a lopsided grin, he chucked her chin. “What would you rather I call you? Turtledove? Baby cakes?” His voice dipped. “My love?”

Her grip tightened on his waist. “Caleb—”

“He’s coming,” John warned in a quiet tone.

Daring to drop a swift kiss on her cheek, he returned to his horse and climbed into the saddle, thankful for the younger man’s consideration but curious as to his motives. Was he merely trying to avoid conflict? He’d admitted to being unproven as a criminal. Maybe he was discovering he didn’t have a taste for violence, after all.

Becca placed her boot in the stirrup, only to be halted by Wendell’s barked order. “Ride with John.”

The relief washing her countenance mirrored what was rushing through his veins. Between the two, John was the better option. Not ideal, just better.

“You don’t look so good,” John said to Wendell.

It was true. Wendell’s complexion was washed-out, almost greenish, and he looked to be experiencing some discomfort.

“I’ll manage.”

When Becca walked past Caleb, the tiny smile she gifted him with was hopeful. And he got the distinct feeling that even in the midst of this ordeal, God was watching over them.

Chapter Twenty-Five

H
e’d called her
my love.
The way he’d said it—with such gravity—made Rebecca’s heart flutter with impossible yearning. When he’d challenged her about the agreement, she hadn’t been able to see past the daring in his eyes. Just now, however, she’d glimpsed deep emotion, an earnestness that had shifted the ground beneath her feet.

She studied the proud line of his shoulders and spine, the occasional view of his profile, as they ventured farther into a wide valley surrounded by blue-toned mountains. While she longed to be with her husband, riding with John wasn’t terrible. His impartial touch didn’t make her feel dirty as Wendell’s did.

The despicable outlaw was physically sick. They’d stopped again an hour after the first time, and he’d returned from his jaunt in the woods sweaty and pale. Caleb watched him with narrowed eyes, and she could almost see him plotting a way of escape.
God, help us.
The sun was almost directly above them. By evening they will have reached the camp, and their chances of escaping would plummet.

Behind her, John shifted. “How about we stop here?” he called up to his cohort, indicating a sliver of a stream winding through the trees. “We can let the horses drink while we eat lunch.”

Wendell wordlessly directed the group to the spot. When he’d dismounted, he took a long swig from his canteen and went to the stream to refill it. Caleb assisted her down, then quickly moved a few steps away, gaze watchful and lean, powerful body riddled with tension. Was he going to act soon? Fear for his safety knocked thoughts of his endearment—and the meaning behind it—from her head.

Rebecca stared at the trickling water, wishing she could soak her sore wrists but unwilling to go near Wendell. John presented her with an open tin of beans and a fork.

“Nothing fancy, but it’s all we’ve got.” He flashed an apologetic smile, then went and plopped down at the base of an old oak and dug into his own can with gusto.

Her stomach cramped with nerves. Sensing Caleb’s attention, she forced a couple of bites before handing it to him. He pressed a slice of slightly stale bread into her hand. “Eat this.”

It was from breakfast, which he’d clearly denied himself. “Only if you promise to eat that entire tin of beans.”

He made a show of sniffing the contents. “Do I have to?”

The fact that he was attempting to lift her spirits made her love him that much more. Taking a bite of the bread, she firmly nodded.

“I don’t really like beans, you know.”

“I remember.”

His startled glance gained him a small smile. Then Wendell sprang from his seated position on the bank and shattered the moment. The bread lodged in her throat. He was glaring at them.

Hand rubbing his gut, he jabbed a finger toward the denser forest they’d recently vacated. “I’m going for a walk.” To John, he growled, “Make sure you keep an eye on these two. If they get away, your aunt will hang for her crimes.”

Swallowing hard, the brown-headed man lowered his fork to his lap and watched with a troubled expression as Wendell stomped off.

Caleb casually made his way to the oak tree, lowering his tall frame into a crouch, tin can in hand. Rebecca trailed behind him.

“What happened between Samantha and Tate?” he prompted. “What did Tate do to set her on a path of revenge?”

John’s jaw hardened, and defeat settled in the lines bracketing his mouth. “She wasn’t always like this. She used to be sweet-natured. Generous.” His attention drifted to what Rebecca guessed were happier times.

“What changed?” Caleb said.

“She and Tate were sweethearts once upon a time. Planned to marry before...” He heaved a sigh. “My aunt was walking home one night when she was set upon by a pair of men. They abused her and left her for dead.”

Caleb grimaced. Rebecca’s blood ran cold.

“Tate couldn’t handle it. If he’d only been there for her, she could’ve healed. But he broke things off and, after that, she went a little bit crazy.”

“How can she surround herself with men?” Rebecca blurted, thinking she would’ve wanted to keep her distance.

“She controls them,” Caleb surmised. “My guess is it makes her feel powerful, something she wasn’t before.”

“I want to help her. That’s why I came,” John admitted.

Caleb set his tin on the ground. “Let us go, John. You know she’s not going to let us live. Not when we can testify to her crimes. You don’t want our deaths on your conscience, do you?”

Rebecca could see his obvious struggle.

“I can convince her to give herself up. You’ll be fine,” John said.

“I’m afraid your reassurances aren’t good enough,” Caleb said as he leaped on top of the smaller man. Unprepared, Rebecca clapped her hand over her mouth. She mustn’t scream. While he scrambled to pry the gun from John’s holster, she frantically scanned the forest behind them. Where was Wendell? He wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.

The horses! Dashing over, she seized the reins of Caleb’s mount. Slapped the others’ rumps to scare them into bolting.

Angry grunts echoed behind her. Punches landed.

The click of a gun hammer froze her in place.
Oh, Lord, please let that be Caleb. Not John. Not Wendell.

Afraid to look yet unable to refrain, she turned. Winded, one cheek bruised and his hair in his eyes, Caleb pointed the gun at John, who was sprawled in the grass. He looked stunned.

“Don’t call for Wendell. If you do, I’ll make sure you’re punished to the full extent of the law. Keep quiet, and I’ll ask for leniency.” Spinning, he strode to her side. “Let’s go.”

* * *

His heart didn’t return to its normal rhythm until hours later, when dusk had fallen and he was confident no one was on their trail. He didn’t dare relax his guard until they reached Gatlinburg.

“Caleb, I need a break,” Becca said softly.

She hadn’t complained once about the punishing pace he’d set for them. Her shoulders were sagging, however, and her legs were surely as stiff as his were. Studying their surroundings, he chose a sheltered spot between a circle of pines.

Reaching the ground first, he turned and assisted her down, hands lingering on her slim hips. He told himself it was to steady her, not because he couldn’t resist touching her in order to reassure himself she was all right. Safe.

She glanced around in trepidation. The thick pines mostly hid them. Still, there were gaps.

He released her and snagged the canteen. Half-empty. Giving it to her, he warned her to take it easy. They’d need to find a water supply soon.

“Amy must be worried sick,” she fretted, arching her back and rubbing the knots from her muscles.

“They would’ve noticed our absence and come searching for us.” But would they know which way to travel? Caleb couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding lodged in his chest. “I meant to tell you earlier...great thinking running off the other horses. I’m impressed.” He took a shallow sip of water and recapped the canteen.

“I didn’t really think about it. Just acted.”

Gently hooking her hair behind her ear, he said, “You were very brave, just like I knew you’d be.”

“You’re the brave one.” She frowned. “I wish John wasn’t mixed up with Samantha and her troubles.”

“Me, too. He made his choice, however. He’ll have to live with the consequences.”

Hugging her middle, she rubbed her arms through her wool cape. Her fingers were pink from the cold. His ears burned from exposure.

Her jade gaze clung to his. “I won’t feel better until we’re inside our cabin with the door locked and a fire raging in the fireplace.”

Caleb zeroed in on the word
our,
aware she didn’t actually think of his cabin as her forever home. “Becca, I don’t know how long it’ll take to capture these people, but as soon as the danger has passed you can return to your cabin in the cove ”

White teeth sinking into her plush lower lip, brow creasing, she merely nodded her understanding.

What had he expected? That she’d beg to stay with him forever?
I’m really a fool if I think she’d ever do that.

He turned away to scan the mountainous, winter-cursed terrain beyond the opening. “We’ll stay here ten minutes more, then head out.”

“Okay.” She sounded uncharacteristically unsure. Confused.

He brushed it off. No use punishing himself further. Nothing had changed.

Rose and russet hues streaked across the sky. Without a lamp, their progress was going to be slow. Walking the outer edge of the pines, he stretched his legs.

“Ready?”

Solemn, she accepted his boost up. When they set out again, he reveled in the way she leaned into him, her slender fingers threaded through his. Once they reached the farm, they wouldn’t be sharing this kind of closeness again.

An hour later, he made the mistake of lowering his guard. Whether due to fatigue or preoccupation with Becca, he didn’t anticipate the riders emerging from the shadows.

“Stop right there.”

The husky voice set off alarm bells.

Becca stiffened. “Oh, no.”

Surprise flitted across Samantha’s features. She hadn’t been expecting them, then. Or searching for them. Her companion, a man who looked to be about the same age as her, wedged his mount beside hers.

“That scar,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Is this our elusive witness?”

A hard smile lifted her lips. “Very perceptive, Isaiah.” The gun she held on them was propped lazily against her thigh. “Rebecca, isn’t it? I didn’t realize our witness was in fact your husband. A shame. I warned you not to place your faith in a man.”

“Not all men are untrustworthy,” Becca said. Caleb squeezed her arm, a silent warning not to mention Tate at this point.

“Some people never learn.” Samantha sighed. Her gaze sharpened on Caleb. “What are you doing so far from home?”

“Your man Wendell thought to deliver us to you as a belated Christmas gift.” On edge, fingers itching to retrieve the weapon he’d lifted from John, he desperately tried to subdue his instincts.

“Is that so? He failed to mention it to me. Where is good ole Wendell, anyway?”

“Probably roaming the woods and cursing his existence. I think he got a hold of some rancid food.”

She and Isaiah exchanged a look. Lifting her gun, she motioned with the long barrel. “Get down.”

“You don’t have to do this.” On the ground, he blocked Becca with his body. “Your nephew told us what happened to you,” he said gently. “Killing us won’t make the pain disappear. I’m guessing killing Tate didn’t help, either.”

“Don’t you dare breathe that man’s name again.” Expression thunderous, she jerked out of the saddle, boots striking the ground with force. Memories of the murder filled Caleb. Her hatred. Her utter lack of mercy. She must’ve endured terrible things to have come to this point.

“I don’t blame you for despising him. Or men in general. He failed you, didn’t he, Samantha? His rejection hurt worse than what those men did to you.”

“Caleb.” Becca breathed a low warning, gripping his arms from behind.

Isaiah joined Samantha, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What’s he talking about, Sam?”

Eyes on fire, she flinched, dislodging him. “Touch me again, and you’ll lose a hand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” she snapped, fury blazing in a face made more delicate by the severe haircut. “As for you, Caleb O’Malley, playing compassionate bystander won’t alter your fate. In fact, throwing my past in my face has only served to shorten your time on earth. On your knees. Both of you.”

He weighed his options. Time was running out.
Not again, Lord, I can’t fail Becca again.
“Aren’t you curious as to what happened to John?”

While she tried to mask her reaction, he saw her swallow convulsively. She cared about the young man at least a little. “Should I be worried?”

“How about we strike a deal? I’ll spill about my time with your nephew after you release my wife.”

Gasping, Becca dug her fingers into his skin. He winced.

“And have her hightail it to the authorities?” she scoffed. “No deal.”

“All she cares about is getting home to her sister.”

“I’m not a fool, O’Malley.” Gesturing to the root-studded earth in front of his horse, she said, “I said get on your knees.”

Defeat pounded at his temples. Even if he jumped the woman, that left her partner to deal with Becca. He couldn’t risk it. There had to be another way.

Side by side, they lowered themselves to the uneven ground. He refused to believe this was the end.

Samantha moved to stand before them. “Tell me where my nephew is or I’ll shoot her and make you watch as she takes her sweet time bleeding to death.”

In that moment, he hated another human being. Rage licked his insides. “I left him hale and hearty after I relieved him of his weapon,” he said.

“And where was this?”

“Half a day’s ride north.”

“Excellent. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” When Isaiah leaned over to whisper something in her ear, Caleb took advantage of their momentary distraction.

Nauseated, he turned his head to stare deeply into his wife’s eyes. “Rebecca, I—”

“Don’t say it,” she begged, a silver tear tracking down her cheek. “None of this is your fault.”

Wait. She thought he was about to
apologize?
When they were staring death in the face? “You don’t understand—”

“Stop your yammering.” Both Isaiah and Samantha were watching them with impatience.

Beside him, Becca spoke with quiet dignity. “Have you ever thought about how your actions are affecting your nephew? He strikes me as an intelligent, fair-minded young man. Do you really want to take away his innocence? His future? Because if he stays with you, he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison. Or worse.”

For a split second, Samantha wavered. “I didn’t ask him to tag along. He thinks he can help me.” Her laugh was edged with scorn.

“I know I can.” John materialized from the gloom-shrouded woods with his horse. He must’ve run after the animal the second they left.

The sun had dipped below the mountains. Lantern light only served to toss shadows over everyone. “If you’d only let me.”