His voice softened. “What happened with your uncle?”
She fingered the groove atop the pine railing. “My uncle migrated here with us. Helped my pa build the cabin and thepalisade. We were the only neighbors within twenty-five miles with such fortifications.” Once upon a time, her father had been a hard worker when he put his mind to it. “We’d been here five years. I was fifteen. I’d gone to town with Uncle Rick, and we’d been delayed. It was nearly evening. A Comanche raiding party swooped down on us about five miles from here. We couldn’t outrun them with the wagon.” Her heart pounded now, all of these years later. “My uncle drove up to a scattering of boulders and ordered me to hide. He died fighting the warriors.” Her eyes burned.
A stream of air leaked from Ben’s lungs. “I’m sorry.” His brow furrowed. “How did you escape? Didn’t the Indians realize you were there?”
A shiver rolled through her. Her uncle had lain sprawled on the ground, bloodied, scalped. “I…crawled to another patch of rocks. Scared to death. Shaking. I heard a warrior ride up. I rolled to face him, praying with all of my heart for God’s mercy. I was certain I’d die that day… But he just stared at me. Face and chest painted red and black. A scar marred his cheek. He raised his spear, ready to release it.”
“And?” Ben’s voice scraped across the quiet.
“He said something in Comanche, then turned his horse and rode away. He said something to the others too. A couple of them glanced in my direction. But in the end, they rode off too.” Her voice broke. Tears clung to her lashes. She would not cry. Not here in front of this man. God had spared her. Why? So she could help her mother, or raise Charlie? Or was there another purpose she had yet to decipher? She pressed her fingertips to her eyes, ready to bolt if Ben took a step toward her.
“That’s amazing.” He drove his fingers through his hair. “Is that why Charlie figures the Comanche won’t hurt you? Do you have any idea why the warrior left you unharmed?”
She blew out a slow breath. “I have an idea. But I know at the deeper root of it is that the Lord protected me.”
“Hmmm.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “What a blessing to have such certainty.”
Did Ben not have that? Their gazes connected beneath the moonlight, his eyes dark, mysterious in the shadows, drawing her like magnets. An unexpected twinge stirred in her belly.
Where in the world did that come from? But hadn’t she sensed it all along? The attraction? All the more reason why she must push him away. But now the threat had been removed, hadn’t it? He belonged to someone else. She’d best remember that. After all, it was good news. He could be a friend or an adopted brother like she’d thought of before. She could encourage him and be a good influence.
A tree frog trilled nearby, answered by its mate.
Cora cleared her throat. “There was something that happened the year before the attack, too, that my family figured was the reason the warrior spared me.”
“What was it?”
She reached for her pocket handkerchief. No pockets. She must be daft marching out here like this. But when she’d heard the howl… She sniffled. “It’s a story for another day. We’d best get inside.”
An owl hooted.
Ben scanned the horizon. “You know if there were raiders out there, they’d have to get over the palisade or through it to get to us. Besides, you already put the story off once at supper.”
“At supper, I said another day.” She tightened her shawl. “And this is still the same day.”
“Are you sure about that?” His rich voice worked its way inside of her. “I reckon it’s past midnight. New day.”
“Still, I’d prefer not to stand in the open in middle of the night.”
“I’ll walk you to your door.” He motioned toward the cabin.
She fell into step alongside him. Her cheeks warmed at his nearness. What was wrong with her?
“Thank you.” The porch creaked beneath their footfalls. She reached for the door latch. “You’d best get back to the stable and stay put until sunrise.”
“I’m waiting for the story.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb as if they had all the time in the world.
She crossed her arms. Did he have no sense of the night? But he’d settled down since she’d come outside, no longer pacing, and the sinew-tight grip of his jaw and lower face had eased. She’d helped with whatever had been troubling him. Helped? It was likely her fault to begin with. But she’d managed to make it better. “I saved a Comanche girl.”
“You did what?” He straightened. “How?”
“A year before the attack on my uncle. I was out riding and came across an injured girl in some bushes on the outskirts of the ranch. She was about nine or ten years old. She didn’t speak any English, just Comanche. I could understand enough to figure out that her horse had come across a rattler and bucked her off. Her leg was broken. I made a splint, got her onto my horse, and walked them back to our house. My mother and I cared for her for weeks. Even taught her some English. She got stronger. One day, she was gone. There were multiple horse tracks outside the palisade the next day. Her kin must have come for her.”
Ben’s gaze lingered on her face. “The warrior who spared you could have been one of her kin.”
“That’s what we figured.” She leaned against the door. “But as I told Charlie, there are hundreds of Comanche who live within raiding distance of here, and only a few of them might have reason to be kind to us.”
“Duly noted.” He hooked his thumbs around the bottom of his suspenders. “All the more reason why you need protection.”
