She looked back at the spot she’d been resting, then at the surrounding trees. She knew what sort of wildlife called the forest home. Her brother-in-law, Graham Hart, used to hunt and trap animals for their skins, and the stories he told her about his encounters were enough to make the hair on her entire body stand on end. She’d hate to come face-to-face with a wolf or mountain lion out here with nothing but Clay’s pistol. She didn't know how many shots he’d fired at the bandits, so if her choices were to stay here or in a real cabin that offered protection, then she’d take it. “All right,” she said.
He gave her a quick nod and grabbed her hand before following the old man. She hid the smile on her face and tried not to read much into the hand-holding. It was still dark out. He’d probably just done it so she wouldn’t fall, but whatever the reason, it felt—nice.
She glanced at his face. More specifically, his lips. The kiss he’d given her came back to mind. It had been the first time in her life that a man had kissed her. It hadn’t been the type of kiss she’d seen Violet or Rose share with their husbands, though. Clay’s kiss had been quick compared to the long, drawn-out kisses her sisters received, but it had still been nice. She wondered if he’d do it again. A proper kiss, this time. Not just his lips on hers.
The old man’s cabin wasn’t far from where they’d been resting. It was small and rustic but looked well-kept up. A light was shining from the windows, and smoke curled from the chimney. The door opened before they made it to the porch, and a woman with a shawl draped around her shoulders greeted them with a huge smile and wide eyes.
Clay’s hand tightened in her own when they stopped at the bottom of the steps. The old man was speaking to the woman, her smile widening by the second as she looked at them. She saw the woman say something before stepping back away from the door. The old man entered before them. He and the person Daisy assumed was his wife shared a smile before Clay started in after him.
The cabin was small with only one additional door. A fire was burning, the embers glowing bright enough to cast the room in golden light. Sparsely furnished, it held nothing more than a table with a couple of chairs and two old rockers near the fireplace. She noticed the conversation happening and tried to focus on what everyone was saying as Clay’s hand tightened on her own. He nodded and smiled before shaking his head.
“Are you sure?” she saw the old man say. “It's not a problem.”
Clay shook his head again, and the woman nodded. She opened the door along the back wall before stepping inside, coming back a few moments later with a few blankets. She set them in the rocking chair closest to her. “There,” she said. “If you need more, then just say so.”
Clay nodded again, and the old man and woman entered what she assumed was their bedroom before shutting the door behind them. He dropped her hand and turned to face her. “They were going to give us their bed.” His smile was wide, his eyes sparkling, and her girlish heart started pounding in her chest. “It took some convincing to get them to understand it wasn’t necessary.” He glanced at the blankets they’d left. “I doubt the floor is comfortable, but it's warmer than the ground.”
He made a pallet next to the fire and motioned for her to lie down. She was so tired she didn’t protest and wondered where he’d sleep. She got her answer a moment later when he sank into the rocking chair near the door. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
She watched him in the flickering light from the fireplace, taking in the lines of his face and the dusting of stubble on his chin. That unkempt look gave most men a haggard appearance, but not Clay. It only made him more handsome and rugged-looking.
The first time she clapped eyes on him, she’d been dumbstruck. He’d been staring at her. When their eyes met, he’d smiled and tipped the front of his hat up. She’d been ignored most of her life, and even though she saw men do that when greeting a woman, no one had ever greeted her like that. Not until him. The shock that someone so handsome was acknowledging her had her entire body jolting.
Then she’d turned and run.
Clay had been a permanent fixture in Silver Falls for a while now, and every time she saw him, he’d smile and tip his hat. Her girlish heart pounded whenever he did. More so when Violet started telling her he was sweet on her. She’d brushed the words off as utter nonsense because…why would anyone be interested in her? Especially someone as handsome as Clay Baxter? But despite her knowing it was impossible, Violet was insistent enough that the notion wouldn’t leave her, more so when Clay’s attention to her never faltered. He always spoke to her when she saw him, and she’d loved it. She’d hoped the trip to Butte would confirm what Violet had said, but the memory of him right before leaving Silver Falls flashed in her mind's eye, and her previous thought vanished as a twinge of pain made her heart hurt.
Climbing into the wagon that would take them into Elkin to catch the stagecoach, she’d spotted Clay with Veronica Hiatt, the seamstress's daughter. It was no secret the girl was in love with him; everyone knew it, and she’d never believed Clay returned the girl's feelings until that moment. They’d been standing between the mercantile and the dress shop Veronica and her mother owned. Veronica’s arms had been around his neck, and there wasn’t an inch of space between them. They'd been in a tight embrace, kissing as if they’d never get another chance to do it. Seeing them like that had made her stomach clench to the point it felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. Her chest had ached and she’d found it hard to breathe so she’d turned away, climbing into the wagon, and knew then that Violet had been filling her head with nothing but pretty lies.
But are they lies?
The thought whispered in her mind. She couldn’t deny the looks he’d given her since they'd left Elkin. Or the way he held her hand and kissed her. She’d convinced herself that no man would ever want her, and she believed it. Until Clay. Despite what she saw, something told her that Violet was right. That he was sweet on her, but it was still so hard to believe.
Her thoughts ran in circles as she stared at him. Thinking he had feelings for her made her heart thump. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d imagined being courted by Clay. Ever since the Founders Day picnic when they’d danced together before watching her sister get married, the thought hadn’t left her. Most days she brushed it off as impossible, but every once in a while, when she caught him staring at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at—the same way he was looking at her now—she dreamed it was possible.
She ducked her head and hid a smile in the blanket. It was flattering, truth be known, to think he liked her, but the reality was, no man in their right mind wanted to marry a woman who couldn’t even hear him talk or had to repeat himself just so she’d understand what he was saying. A woman who wouldn’t even be able to hear their babies crying if they were ever to have them, so she tried not to think about it much.
Sighing, she let the thought go, along with any foolish notions of him being sweet on her as Violet suggested. It didn’t matter whether or not he was. She was going away. For an entire year, and by the time she got back to Silver Falls, Veronica Hiatt would no doubt have her hooks so far into him she’d never be able to get them out. And in her absence, Clay may forget all about her and realize Veronica was exactly the type of girl he wanted to settle down with.
Someone who was whole and could hear him talk to her.
Someone nothing like her.
Clanging pots and soft voices woke Clay. He blinked open his eyes and smiled to himself when he saw Daisy covered to her ears by the blankets. Muted sunlight was filtering in through the curtains on the windows, and he stretched out his legs, feeling the ache in his muscles before sitting up straight in the chair. Every inch of his body hurt, his side especially, and he wondered if he didn’t have a broken rib. He inhaled a deep breath. It wasn’t too painful, so he dismissed the notion. They were more than likely just bruised.
Glancing at Daisy, he knew he’d have to ignore the pain and pretend he was fine so she wouldn’t worry. She’d had enough trauma already. He didn’t need to add to it by letting her know how hurt he was. The whispers that woke him stopped. He looked toward his hosts and gave them a friendly smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” Eugene glanced at his wife, whom he’d introduced as Irma the previous night, before carrying a coffee pot to the table. “I’ve got fresh coffee if you’d like a cup.”
“I would.”
Eugene glanced at Daisy, who was still sleeping. As much as Clay hated to disturb her, they couldn't dawdle long. She had a train to catch, assuming she had the ticket on her, and they’d be hard-pressed to make it on time if they lingered.
He stood, biting back a groan, and crossed the distance between them, crouching down to shake her awake. When she came to, she looked confused for a moment, her head turning left then right, before clarity filled her eyes. She sat up, brushing stray sprigs of hair from her face. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. The face she made told him all he needed to know. Her rest wasn’t any better than his had been.
He helped her to her feet and watched as she folded her blankets. He did the same with his own and found Eugene and Irma giving them glances every once in a while with small smiles on their faces. “I can’t thank you enough for helping us out last night, Eugene.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure,” the old man said. “I’m just glad I heard the young lady there screaming.” He laughed and looked at Daisy before saying, “It took me nearly an hour to find ya. Will you be heading back to the road where your stagecoach was robbed?”
