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“Who were they?”
“No clue.”
Betsey stood and took the bowl of water to the door to toss out. Aaron took her vacated seat. “Drifters, you reckon?”
“More than likely. I’d never seen them before so if I had to guess, I’d say they were probably passing through.”
“What happened to them?”
“Don’t know. Morgan escorted them away.” He shrugged. “We didn’t hang around to find out what he did with them.”
Betsey came back inside and gave him a pointed look. “You’re staying here tonight.”
He laughed. “I have a home, you know.”
“Yes, but you’re hurt.”
“I’ll live.”
She blew out a breath. “Humor me, all right? It’s not like I can’t see you’re holding your ribs. Are they broken or just bruised?”
“I can still move so bruised I’m guessing.”
“Well, stay for supper, at least. I’ll wrap your ribs and get a hot meal in you. I’ll feel better sending you home with at least that much done for you.”
Eating was something he could do. He nodded and glanced toward the hall Morning Dove had disappeared down. Staying for supper meant he got to spend more time in her presence, and that alone was reason enough to stay.
Chapter Two
She could not sleep. Morning Dove sighed and threw the blankets back while staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, the only sound was the creaking of branches from the old tree outside her bedroom window.
The evening before replayed in her mind’s eye as she laid there. Ben had stayed through supper. The conversation around the dinner table had ranged from the almost attack on her to horses and back again. She had been exhausted by the time she excused herself and went to bed.
Aaron had been livid when she told him what had happened in town, even with her downplaying it. He had been a constant friend to her since the day he shot Walter for slapping her face so hard she had fallen.
Walter. The mere thought of him made her furious. He was the most jealous man she had ever known. Aaron had done nothing more than ask her a simple question—what town was he in—and her reply of Silver Falls had been enough to set Walter off. He had slapped her and when Aaron said something about it, the old fool had pulled his gun, but Aaron was faster. The only downside to the entire ordeal was that Walter had lived to complain about it.
It was not all bad. The shooting had set off a chain of events that turned her miserable existence into one she looked forward to everyday. She was free here. The townsfolk may look at her as if she was something foul on the bottom of their shoes, but she would take their fear and scorn of her over Walter’s overbearing presence any day of the week.
Getting up, she dressed in her own clothes, the worn buckskin more comfortable than the long dresses Betsey gave her to wear. They thought by dressing her up like the other women in town, people would forget who she was, but all it did was make them think she was trying to hide in plain sight and she supposed she was. It never worked, though.
After brushing and braiding her hair into two long tails, she headed for the kitchen. It was still dark out, but the sky over the mountain was turning purple, signaling the arrival of the sun. The full moon lit the prairie beyond the house all the way to Willow Creek and she stared out at the world until a noise at her back made her jump.
Ben stood in the doorway to the kitchen, one arm around his middle. Betsey had wrapped his ribs the night before. She had insisted on trying to wash the blood from his shirt and ended up giving him one of Aaron’s instead. He was not wearing it now.
She tried not to stare at his naked chest, or the dark patch of hair that covered it and trailed down to his flat belly. Tried not to notice the hard play of muscles that lay beneath his flesh or how bronzed his skin was from working outdoors.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You did not,” she lied, tearing her gaze from his exposed chest to his face. “I did not know you were still here.”
He grinned, the whites of his teeth shining. “Betsey’s as stubborn as the day is long. She refused to let me leave once it got dark.” He motioned into the living room with a tilt of his head. “I stretched out on the couch, not that it did much good. I’m not sure I got an hour's sleep all night.”
Me either.
Ben pushed away from the doorframe he was leaning against and sauntered into the room. Morning Dove grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water as he pulled a chair out from the table, the legs scraping against the floor loud in the stillness.
As usual when around Ben, she found it hard to look at him. She stayed at the stove, taking her time lighting it and getting the coffee ready to brew.
