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The words hit home more than they should have. “No, I wasn’t in the saloon.” At least not during the fight.
Morning Dove glanced his way. “It is my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He dismounted, every bone creaking as he did. He held onto the saddle and tried to catch his breath. “Three men were messing with her and I stepped in—”
“And got beat senseless for your trouble.”
Ben met Morning Dove’s gaze over his horse’s back and held it. “It was no trouble. I’d do it again.”
Betsey sighed and came to his side, lifting his arm and draping it over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up. Morning Dove, Aaron’s in the barn. Can you see to Ben’s horse?”
“Yes.”
Ben watched her gather his horse’s reins and lead Cash and Pansy to the barn. Betsey helped him into the house and to one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
“Don’t move.”
He laughed, then winced when something in his stomach pulled. “Believe me, that would be harder to do than I’d like to admit.”
She drew water into a basin and added a few washcloths to it before bringing it back to the table. “Tell me what happened.”
Betsey squeezed the water out of a washcloth and started cleaning the blood from his face as if he were a child. “I’m not really sure. I was across the street when I spotted Morning Dove. She bumped into someone and the asshole shoved her back into the wall.”
Betsey sat up. “He shoved her?”
“Yes. Pretty damn hard too, from what I saw.” She went back to cleaning his face. “I ran across the street and by the time I reached them, they were pushing her into the alley beside the mercantile. It all went tits up from there. I love a good fight but even I can’t take on three at one time and not mess up my pretty face.”
She scoffed and rinsed the washcloth. “Are you ever serious?”
“Only when I have to be.” He winced when she touched a cut under his eye.
“Not that I enjoy cleaning you up after a fight, at least this time it was over something more than a drunken brawl in the saloon.”
He looked away, knowing she was about to lecture him again about how much time he spent in the saloon. About how he knew what drinking caused. How their father had sullied the Atwater name by being the town drunk when he was alive and him following in his footsteps would only drag them down more.
She stopped talking, and he assumed she was finished. He met her gaze and could see the disappointment on her face. It mirrored his own. He knew he was a screw-up. Why Holden Avery kept him on at the ranch was a mystery only the man himself could answer. He’d gone to work more than once so drunk he could barely stand and all the man had done was pour black coffee down his throat and work him until he’d get sick enough to purge the liquor from his stomach.
“You’re not him, Ben.” She grabbed his hand. His knuckles were busted, dried blood caked around his fingers. “He was a drunk and a worthless excuse for a human. You’re better than that.”
The back door opened before she could say more, which he was thankful for. Her words bit deep, like they always did. She was wrong, though. He wasn’t any better. He was drunk more often than not lately, which was probably why his ass had been handed to him today. He was getting too slow to react.
Aaron’s face was red when he stepped into the kitchen. His friend since they were kids took one look at him and cursed under his breath. He turned to Morning Dove who entered the house behind him. “You’re not to go to town alone again.”
She pursed her lips. “I am not a child.”
“I know you’re not, but with all the newcomers moving in and around Willow Creek, it might be safer for someone to always accompany you.”
“I will not live in fear, itákkaa.”
“And I’m not asking you to.”
They argued back and forth until Morning Dove finally rolled her eyes and headed deeper into the house. He had to agree with Aaron on this one. Morning Dove wasn’t safe in town alone.
She hadn’t answered him as to whether the events of today had happened before, but something in her eyes told him it had. He’d seen the prejudice some folks had against her. Most people feared what they didn’t understand and tales of Indians had some people acting before thinking. The looks thrown Morning Dove’s way were filled with hate, but more often than not, it was fear he saw. With an Indian woman living amongst them, he imagined most folks were afraid more would come.
Aaron leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Morning Dove told me what happened. I want to hear your side. I’m sure she didn’t tell me half of it.”
Ben repeated what he’d told Betsey earlier.
