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“Do you trust me, Ben?”
“Trust you?”
“Answer the question.”
He paused a moment before nodding. “I trust you.”
“Then run. I know…” She glanced up the hill, her breath stolen when she could see the devil she had feared finding her. “Run, Ben, please, and do not look back.”
Ben’s brows lowered, the puzzled look on his face ratcheting up her anxiety. A glance over Ben’s shoulder made her stomach roll. Walter, the monster who had killed her family and kept her captive for over ten years, was crossing the creek.
“Please,” she begged, her voice a mere whisper. “Run, Ben. Please.”
Ben had never seen such naked fear on her face. Not even the day she’d been attacked in town and pushed into the alleyway had she looked so terrified.
He cupped her cheek with one hand and pulled her closer to him. “It will be alright. I’ll not let them hurt you.”
Her eyes turned glassy, filling with tears a moment before she sobbed, a broken sound that tore at his chest. “Morning Dove…”
“Please,” she begged him before looking over his shoulder.
Ben looked too. A newcomer was joining the men he’d spent a few hours with in the saloon. He’d recognized them the moment they stopped on the other side of the creek. These were the men who asked him to sit in on a card game with them, only one of them was missing. They’d bought an entire bottle of whiskey and shared it with him like he’d known them all his life.
Bits and pieces of conversation came back to him as he stared at them and one nagging comment whispered back through his mind…they’d asked about an Indian girl. He’d thought of Morning Dove but hadn’t been able to say her name as one of the men, the one he didn’t see with these two, started a ruckus by accusing him of cheating and he forgot about the question moments later.
There had been three of them at the card table. He studied their faces. The one who had started the fuss that day wasn’t with these two.
Facing Morning Dove, and seeing the fear on her face as she looked at them, he wondered if their innocent question about her had been more than it seemed.
He glanced over his shoulders as the new rider neared the creek. “Do you know these men, Morning Dove?” She gripped his hands so tight, he knew the answer before she even opened her mouth.
“I know one of them.”
The burly fellow who’d been heading their way crossed the creek, his horse making a slow wade across the rocks. Ben studied his face. He’d never seen him, but the way Morning Dove was now clinging to him, he knew she must have. She was trembling, he could feel the tremors as he held her hands. Was this someone who’d given her a hard time in town when he wasn’t around? “Has he said something to you before? Do you know him?”
The fear in her eyes and the shaking of her limbs told him everything. It only took a second to puzzle all the pieces together, and he knew the answer before she even nodded her head.
Aaron had told him about the confrontation with the man who’d claimed Morning Dove was his wife. He hadn’t described him, but the way Morning Dove was reacting, he knew without a doubt this was him. It had to be.
The man stopped by the creek bank, his heated gaze on Morning Dove. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. The hatred in his eyes spoke volumes.
Ben gave Morning Dove’s hand a tight squeeze before turning toward the men and placing her at his back. He was thankful she stayed there without him asking her to.
The man on his horse straightened and turned his attention to him. “Letting her hide behind you ain’t going to do much good, boy.”
“I’ve not been a boy in more years than I can count, old man, and she’s not hiding. She’s being protected, from who is what I’d like to know, even though I can guess.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “She told you about me, then?”
“If you’re the bastard who killed her father and kidnapped her, then yes, she did.”
He laughed and ran a hand over his grizzled beard. “I didn’t kidnap anyone. The girl would have died on her own. I did her a favor by taking her in.”
“I doubt that.”
Morning Dove clenched his shirt in her hands, the heat from her body scorching his back. He could still feel her trembling and her fear made something dark and violent beat in his chest. He had no illusions about what these men wanted. The way the old man was trying to look behind him told him that, but they’d have to kill him to get to her.
He lowered his hand, resting his palm on the revolver he wore strapped to his hip. The move didn’t go unnoticed. The old man grinned before spitting a stream of black tobacco juice to the ground.
