Tears filled her eyes as she swallowed it down, hopelessness blooming. How in the world could she get out of this mess? Hot tears trickled down her cheek, warming the spot for a breath until the chill overtook her once more. She shuddered, her shoulder burning with unbearable pain at the movement. “Help me, Lord,” she cried softly. “Or let me die before Brent can get us before a judge.”
Grandfather’s stipulations, the ones which had put a target on her back in California from every businessman and mine worker alike, had stated she must marry and have children in order to access her trust. If she didn’t do so within one year, the trust would be turned over to Grandfather’s business partner, Percival. She felt a little sick at even the thought of the man, but maybe it was simply the muddy ground on which she’d been deposited like a sack of flour - or more of the same pain and agony at her situation. She had been at the mercy of the men inher life since Mama had had no choice but to seek shelter at her own father’s when Ellie was still a child.
Suddenly, a sound overhead had her glancing upwards as though she could see anything in the pitch black. “Lord,” she thought she heard. “Go before me.”
It didn’t sound like Brent, and he certainly wouldn’t be asking anything of the Lord. Was it possible the kind cowboy had returned? The one whose navy eyes had her hoping against all hope he was trustworthy? “Micah,” the voice said. “There’s a floor down here, but be careful.”
Micah. The cowboy from the creek. He’d come back for her.
Footsteps sounded, and the light of a lantern shone in her face. “Eleanor?” His voice sounded off, but had to be him. “Eleanor, we’re here to help you.” How did he know her name? Had Brent told him? What little energy she had left had her tensing, only to hiss at the pain all over her body. Was he working with Brent?
“No,” she choked out. It sounded pitiful, even to her, but she couldn’t risk the possibility of them working together. “Please, leave me alone.” She’d rather die on this dirty floor than marry Brent, or any other man for that matter. Her arm continued to feel as though someone had torn it clean off her body, but all the pain remained.
The scent of the woods approached her, and she saw Micah kneel beside her in the low lamplight.
“Eleanor,” he said softly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “That’s your name, right? I promise, no one’s going to hurt you again.”
Could she possibly believe him? Was he her only chance? How could he possibly know her name? Brent would’ve been the only way he could, but that would’ve meant the cowboy was in cahoots with him, right?
“No, don’t call me Eleanor.Hecalled me Eleanor. Call me Ellie.” It didn’t matter, not in the scheme of things, but thesound of her full name on his lips grated like forks scraping dinner plates in an otherwise silent meal.
“He?” Another voice sounded this time, the same one who’d spoken earlier. “Brent? The man who captured you? He’s gone, Ellie. He won’t be back.” Questions swirled in her head, but how much could she trust them? Was it possible she was being led out of one frying pan and into a raging fire?
It didn’t matter how her head and arm throbbed or her back burned, her head shook and her body shivered. “No, the man responsible for the trust and effectively putting a target on my back. My father.” As soon as the word ‘father’ left her lips, she clocked her lie. She’d been referring to him as her father since Brent took her, as the man apparently hadn’t dug enough to realize he was her mother’s father. She’d not cared to correct him, and something about the half truth gave her some semblance of power and control. She’d come clean if she made it out of this, but she still didn’t know if she could trust the cowboys in the mine shaft - no matter how much she wanted to.
“We’ll keep you safe from your father too, Ellie, but first we have to get you out of this mine shaft. Can you stand on your own, or do you need help?” She noticed Micah tensing and trading looks with his brother, but it wasn’t something she had enough energy to question.
No, there was no way she could do it on her own, but to willingly accept his help? It might be the greatest risk of all. She slowly pushed to a sitting position with the arm that didn’t feel as though someone had ripped it entirely off her body, cradling the lame one as best she could at her stomach. She’d managed to get a foot under her when her body gave out, pitching forward until strong but gentle hands caught her.
“Ellie,” he whispered, his voice thick with something her brain couldn’t place. “We’re going to get you out of here, and no one’sgoing to hurt you ever again. First, I need you to trust me enough to let me pick you up. Can you do that?”
Another tear rolled down her cheek. The fear, the anger, the absolute terror at the idea of trusting a man to help her - it all warred with the knowledge it was her only way out. That knowledge, the tiniest spark of hope in the chasm of her mind, gave her the courage to nod slowly. “All…all right, but just you.”
Micah paced outside the bedroom door in Louisa’s cottage as Dr. Callie Thorn examined Ellie inside. “What’s taking so long?” He knew he growled at his brothers, but the weight of the guilt of what had happened to the woman threatened to choke him.
He’d told Louisa he suspected a woman at the campsite due to her pins, but he’d not told her the full story of it with everything going on. The muted sounds of Callie speaking drifted through the door, but he didn’t hear any response from Ellie.
“Calm down, Micah,” Isaac admonished. “Callie will work as quickly as she can, but she’s got to check her over.” Jacob hadn’t spoken, and Micah couldn’t blame him. The woman Jacob thought he would marry stood one wall over, the first time she’d been back in town since she left a brokenhearted Jacob in her dust. “She’ll be all right.”
Micah did his best to do as he was told, distracting himself with studying the differences in the cottage since Louisa had moved in. She’d added lacy curtains in the living area and a couple of throw pillows to the small sofa. The woodstove warmed the place, though Micah knew Isaac brought wood in for her every morning and evening. What looked like a spare rag rug had been started and laid over the arm of the sofa, and a basket of knitting projects sat below.
The clock on the wall said they only stood without update for a half hour, but Micah could’ve sworn it was far longer. They’d gotten her water to clean the cuts. Pastor Jim said Callie had carbolic acid in her bag to clean what she needed to, but Micah longed to do more. Louisa had even gone in to let Callie know she was welcome to dress Ellie in one of her dresses in the wardrobe, but there was nothing he could do but wait - wait when the whole thing felt like something he could’ve stopped.
It felt like days as he imagined Ellie drifting in and out of consciousness, the fear and pain she must feel. Finally, Callie cracked the door open, and all three cowboys’ attention jerked in her direction. “Jacob, Micah, would the two of you come inside so we can get Ellie’s shoulder back in place?”
Micah fought the urge to push his brother out of the way as Jacob moved far too slowly for his liking. “Is she awake?” Would it be a good thing if she was, or would it be a kindness if she’d fainted from the pain? Putting a shoulder back in place hurt more than any other injury he’d ever received, and Jacob’s quick work putting it back in place before the pain really set in was the only thing which saved him from agony.
Ellie’s shoulder had been out for who knew how long, as well as other injuries she’d likely accrued during her time with Brent. Fighting the boiling anger threatening to consume him at the idea of any man harming a woman, especially this one, Micah took deep breaths as he followed his brother and Callie into the bedroom.
“Yes, and I’ve assured her you two are safe men, but don’t touch her unless we’re actively working on her arm.” Callie’s brow rose, but her expression remained otherwise professional and stoic. “Can you do that?”
Nodding quickly, Micah rounded Jacob and pushed through the door. Of course, she wouldn’t trust men. She’d been captured by Brent and apparently had a nightmare for a father. If he hadto guess, they weren’t the only men who’d failed to protect her in her life. Despite having only met her, an altogether unfamiliar feeling of desperation to prove he was different bubbled in him the same way his rage had a moment before.
Kneeling by Ellie’s bedside, he took in her pale, gaunt face. It was clean now, and he could see the shadows of the beauty she held there. Her eyes looked exhausted, her pupils large due to her head wound and likely the pain. Callie handed Ellie a leather strap and pointed to her good hand with a nod. “Micah, hold her free hand so it doesn’t start flailing. Jacob, you’re on this side to pull while I direct the injured arm back into its socket.”
“You can do this, Ellie,” Micah said with as much calm and comfort as he could muster. “We’re right here.” He would be there for her until she left town or banished him. He wouldn’t fail this woman again, not when he’d known good and well how much trouble she was in when he saw her in the woods.
Ellie was so brave, and Micah wanted to put his fist through a wall by the time they had the joint back in place. Tears left tracks down her cheeks, but she’d not made a single sound as they’d worked the arm back into the right spot. He’d been seventeen when his shoulder had been pulled out of socket by a horse he was trying to gentle, and he’d screamed and hollered when Jacob worked it back in.
