The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge. Lori Connelly

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СКАЧАТЬ calm vanished. Blood raced through her veins. Heart in her throat, Evie gathered the edges of the quilts close around her. Slow, cautious, rifle cradled to her stomach, she pushed up to her feet then turned to face the window.

      A minute passed. Then another. Evie heard nothing, saw nothing. She drew in a breath and stepped close to the glass pane. With the rifle muzzle, she pushed the washed out material aside. Her gaze found the source of the sound, what had likely woken her, right away. Fear evaporated.

      Drained, her grip loosened. The blankets slipped, sagging around her waist. Anger whispered. Evie turned around and, jaw clenched, stalked to the fireplace. She hung the weapon back on the hooks above the mantle where it belonged. The hard packed dirt floor chilled her bare feet, hastening her pace as she moved to the corner.

      Beside the empty bed, Evie stilled, stared at it for a few seconds, her lips compressed into a hard thin line. With a snap of her wrists, she spread the thin patchwork quilts over the mattress. Sadness, resentment and frustration crashed over her in waves as she pulled her nightgown over her head, tossing it on the covers. Goose bumps soon dotted her skin. In quick, jerky movements, she donned stockings, undergarments, a faded blue long sleeved shirt and a brown ankle length skirt.

      Another thud sounded. Evie ground her teeth. She sat down on the bed and pulled on well-worn black boots. Her hair fell across her face in the process. Exasperated, she plucked her hairbrush off the wall where it hung by a leather thong.

      With the ease of long practice, she swiftly tamed her waist length dark brown hair into a single thick braid that hung down her back. Evie stood and slapped the brush back in place. Her hands shook as she stomped over, and shoved the table away from the door.

      Orange and pink stained the clouds on the horizon when she stepped outside. Tall pine trees populated the landscape to her right, a sea of green as far as the eye could see. On her left lay the road to town and a couple of small cleared fields. Daisy, her cow, called out, impatient. Four hens scratched the grass for bugs. Evie noted it all, but focused on what brought her out at dawn.

      A mare, all black except for a short white stocking on each leg stood just outside the barn. Its open door swung in the gentle wind. It hit against the wall, and again created the sound she’d heard while inside. Evie hissed through clenched teeth, irritated, moving with swift steady strides to the horse.

      Her temper simmered as she led Sugar into the fenced area attached to one side of the barn. Evie stripped off the mare’s tack, and propped the saddle against a fence post. With bridle in hand, a pat and promise of oats later, she headed to the barn.

      Evie stepped into the shadowed interior of the weathered structure. While her eyes adjusted to the low light, she took a couple of hesitant steps forward, one hand on the interior wall for assurance. She hung the bridle where it belonged then moved on.

      It didn’t take long before she found him near Sugar’s stall, sprawled face down on some loose hay.

      For a second, intense emotion seized her. Evie shook with the force it. Although the desire to turn around and leave held strong appeal, she just couldn’t do that. She knelt down beside him, leaned in and whispered his name. He didn’t react. With both hands, she shook him, calling his name with force. As she half expected, Ben still didn’t respond.

      Evie got to her feet and with some effort, rolled him onto his back. Shaggy brown hair fell across his face. She crouched down, reached out and swept the mass to one side. His familiar features stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions.

      Tears burned her tired eyes. It’d been some time since they’d been affectionate, intimate and, unable to resist, her fingers ran down the side of his neck, a light caress. Scratches and purple bruises marred his skin. Her hand came back up to rest her palm on his cheek. As upset as she was, Evie savored this simple physical contact.

      Caught up in the moment, his groan startled her. She gasped. A hand came up, covering hers. His eyes opened and sorrow pierced her. The amazing forest green eyes that had captured her fancy years ago were so bloodshot that it was painful to witness. A crooked smile spread across his face.

      “Hey doll.” His voice was low and rough, yet almost playful.

      Strong whiskey fumes slapped Evie, sparking her temper. She reared back as if physically struck. His hand dropped to his side when she pulled away. Words she’d mulled over for months were on the tip of her tongue, about to explode from her when she noticed he’d passed out again. An incoherent sound of pure frustration passed her lips.

      Fuming, Evie started to rise, and then noticed a small bag at his side. She leaned over, picked it up and the weight made her stomach churn with nausea. Her hand opened, dropping it on the ground, its contents spilling out. There was no honest way for him to have that amount of coin.

      Evie Rolfe sat back on her heels and looked at the mess that was her husband.

      Ben’s shirt, ripped and stained, offered further evidence he’d been in another fight. It was hard to believe her husband had become this man. As she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, her mind drifted to the past, longing for the man of her memories.

      One hot August night five years ago, a stranger had walked into a dance at her church. His stance radiated confidence. A crooked nose sat in a face of raw, rugged features that intrigued her. And as soon as he saw her, the man strode directly to her.

      Easily towering over her by several inches, with broad shoulders and a wide, well built chest, he instantly made her feel protected.

      “Dance with me.” His eyes, the deepest of green, charmed her. Her heart pounded. Without even asking his name, she’d given him her hand, captivated. In his arms, from the first moment, she’d felt a profound sense of belonging.

      Daisy voiced loud displeasure, snapping her back to the present. Frustrated, Evie ignored the cow, instead reaching out to shake Ben awake and then stopped herself. She knew from experience that a few hours rest increased the odds that her husband would actually listen to her and last night’s events had made it clear that she needed him to hear what she had to say today. Terrifying memories snaked through her mind. Her hand shook as it hovered between them for a moment then dropped. The day had just begun. She’d let him sleep.

      Evie stood, grabbed an old gray wool blanket they had for the horse, covered Ben with it and took one last look at him before going off to care for Daisy. Sun streamed in through the doorway, warming her while she milked. She had a difficult time focusing on the task though as her gaze kept wandering back to Ben.

      The bond between them, frayed and strained, was not yet broken. Their damaged relationship left her emotions in a mess, and she couldn’t stop her thoughts from circling around the conversation to come.

      When she turned the cow out to graze, the cloudless sky for once failed to boost her spirits. She continued with her chores, checking on Ben occasionally, but misery dogged her. The morning hours passed slowly. Desperate to stay busy she grabbed some laundry and headed down to the creek.

      A pair of ravens glided in the cool breeze above her to perch on the upper branches of a maple tree. Evie knelt by the water, reached into the basket drawing out a red and black checked shirt. Tears began to well. Eyes closed, she buried her face in the flannel, breathing in the scent of pine and Ben.

      She wondered how it was possible to miss a person with every fiber of your being when that person shared your home, your bed.

      After a moment, Evie set the shirt aside and pulled out the rest of the washing. Her fingers, soon reddened СКАЧАТЬ