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They could not get out of the woods fast enough. When they hit the road, Ben headed away from town, giving Cash a word before he ran. Wind Chaser followed, Morning Dove urging her to catch up, and as the sun’s light was replaced by that of the moon, they raced away from Silver Falls with her heart in her throat.
Chapter Eleven
The road gave way to empty prairie when Ben veered from the path and headed for the trees. They rode for what seemed like hours before she heard rushing water. It grew louder as they traveled, the forests growing sparse by the time Morning Dove saw the river.
Ben headed toward it and led them along the banks. The moon was full, the light shining for miles around and she looked over her shoulder more than once, expecting to see them being followed, but saw no one.
Her gaze strayed little from Ben. She was afraid if it did, he would disappear. Worry that he was not really there, that she was imagining him, made her question her own sanity but no matter how many times she looked, he was always there, her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders.
Her eyes burned as she watched him, and she was not sure what surprised her more. The fact he was alive or that he had come for her. Both were enough to make her heart clench inside her chest and caused her pulse to dance beneath her skin.
They rode clear through the night, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the mountains when Ben led them into a shady thicket of trees by the river's edge. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and she blinked, trying to keep them open as she watched Ben climb down from Cash’s back and head her way.
Her bones creaked as he helped her down from the saddle. She held onto Wind Chaser while the feeling returned to her legs.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Just tired.”
He stared at her for a long moment before unstrapping a bedroll from Wind Chaser's saddle. He smoothed it out on the ground underneath the trees before looking over at her.
“Come rest,” he said. “I’ll see to the horses."
She wanted to refuse, but fatigue had her doing as he said without complaint. Walter had worked her every hour of the day and sleeping with him nearby had been almost impossible for fear he would try having his way with her.
The ground was hard when she laid down, but she would have laid on a bed of rocks if she had to. She was no longer with Walter, and that was all that mattered.
She turned to Ben, watching him, still afraid she would blink and he would be gone. He looked like a walking dream, and she could not stop staring at him. Those denim trousers he was wearing were partly to blame. They were tight across his backside and she looked her fill as he unsaddled both of their horses.
Several buttons on his shirt were undone, and an old bandana was tied around his neck. Fine lines were etched across his face and he appeared haggard, and tired, but had he been filthy from head to toe, he would still be the most welcome sight she had ever seen.
Exhaustion pulled her eyelids down, but the smallest sound forced them back open.
Ben’s movements were slow as he saw to the horses. She wondered how long he had traveled. Tears pricked her eyes. He is not dead. The joy that realization brought made her heart ache. He was alive and—he had come for her. The question was, why did he?
She blinked her useless tears away when he headed her way. Pulling a knife from his belt, he went to one knee by her feet and cut the rope still knotted around her ankle away. His mouth thinned, anger etching his face into harsh lines as he looked at the bruises marring her skin.
“I should have stayed and paid him back for this.” The heat from his hand circled her ankle, and she watched him through her lashes. “Do you have any more bruises?”
“No,” she told him.
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it with a snap. He lightly massaged her ankle before laying her foot down. He walked to the river's edge, his silhouette barely visible in the low light as he untied the bandana from his neck and dunked it into the water. When he came back, he bent near her feet again and she sucked in a breath when he started to wash the blood from her ankle.
She had never really thought of Ben as gentle but that was the only way to describe how he tended to her. He washed the broken skin and rope burns and looked up at her when she winced. “Sorry.”
“It is fine.”
“No it's not.” His jaw clenched a moment before he wiped the blood from her legs where the briars had cut into her skin.
“Walter burned my leggings. He burned everything I owned. All the things I left behind when I left with Aaron were gone. I am lucky he let me keep my dress.”
His jaw clenched again. He met her gaze and she saw so many questions there. He never asked them, though. When he was done, he headed back to the river, rinsing the bandana and wringing the water out before wiping his face and tying it back around his neck.
He stretched out on the ground not far from her, laying in the grass, leaves and dirt. The bedroll he had given her was big enough for both of them. Would he accept if she offered to share it with him?
Their eyes met, and the heat in his gaze made a tingle race down her spine. That look said he would, but offering to share the blankets had more implications than just giving him a place to sleep out of the dirt.
Her heart started racing. Their relationship before all this happened had changed. They had gone from barely speaking, to him stealing kisses in a short amount of time, and she had wondered before the day Walter showed up if their growing closeness would turn into something—more. She thought maybe it would have. Ben’s words that day had left no doubt in her mind how he felt about her. The kiss they shared only confirmed it. He had wanted more. Had told her as much. And after seeing him hanged and Walter dragging her halfway across Montana, she would not waste an opportunity with him again. She may not get another.
