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Michelle kicked a stone in front of her as she walked down the muddy path leading from the smokehouse. Four more days. She would have to wait four more days to see Luther.
She gazed at the clouds dotting the blue sky. At least the weather had improved. Last night’s storm had soaked everything, and the ground was muddy. She hoped it wouldn’t rain again. Another gray day would make her more depressed.
The last seventeen days had been hard, but not unbearable. Redfeather had stayed with her for a week. The morning after she had gotten drunk, he had brewed a nasty-tasting tea to soothe her pounding head. They had a long talk and he explained that it was her responsibility to take care of the cabin while Luther was gone. She had to do Luther’s chores as well as her own. Each night, she collapsed into the cold, empty bed, exhausted.
When Luther returned, she would reward him for everything he had done for her. She had spent the last few days planning his homecoming. As soon as he came home, she would fix him a hot bath and make a delicious venison dinner. After they ate, she would take his hand, lead him to bed, and massage his back. By then, he would have gotten the hint and take over from there.
Michelle rounded the bend near the cabin and stopped. A man was limping up the narrow, tree-lined path. Who was this? How had he found the cabin? She furrowed her brows, then a moment later, recognized him.
“Luther!” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She took a step back to look at him and gasped.
Luther’s unshaven face was swollen and bruised. His right eye was blackened and half-closed. He looked horrible, but that didn’t matter. He was here with her.
He pulled away and stared over her shoulder at the cabin. “Things fine?”
“Yes, I took care of everything. When did you get out?” She touched his soaked and ripped clothes. “Did you walk all night in the pouring rain?”
He ignored her questions as he hobbled to the cabin.
She trailed after him, wringing her hands. “Luther, what’s wrong?”
“Sheriff said I either leave after last night’s beating or I do another week,” he growled. “I spent the night passed out under a tree.”
“Oh, Luther, that’s—”
“Don’t matter none. It’s over.”
Michelle followed him as he entered the cabin. “I scrubbed the walls, the floor, the shelves, everything. Then I washed all the bedclothes, cleaned the spare room, and look over here.” She gestured at the windows. “I made curtains from my old dress,” she said, hoping for a sign of approval.
“Nice.”
She frowned. Luther should be proud of her for taking care of things while he was gone, but he seemed annoyed at her. Why?
Luther limped to the bed and took off his shirt. She stifled a gasp. His ribs were purple-blue and thick, red welts covered his back. What the hell happened in that jail cell? What started the fight? She had a thousand questions for Luther, but didn’t dare ask them now.
“If you want, I’ll rub lineament on your back. It—”
“Don’t you even think of touchin’ me.”
She bowed her head. Nothing was going the way she had planned. She thought Luther would be glad to be home, but he was cranky. The bastards in town had beaten him bad, and they probably didn’t feed him much. Maybe his mood would improve if he ate something. “Are you hungry? I can get—”
“Coffee’s fine.”
She darted to the fireplace and set the pot over the flames. “Do you want a bath? I’ll fetch the water and—”
“Go ahead if it makes you happy.”
Luther’s voice sounded harsh and flat, like all the life had been drained from him. Maybe he was too hurt to talk. “Do you need a doctor? Maybe I should—”
“Will you quit prattlin’ like you lost all sense in your head? Go out and get the damn bath water if you want, but leave me the hell alone. Can’t you see I’m tired?” he snarled.
Luther’s outburst startled her, and she looked at him. His green eyes were cold and stormy. Something about his demeanor had changed while he was gone. He was quiet, too quiet, and angry. She’d never seen him act like this before.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to—”
“Go outside. I don’t need you fussin’ over me. And if you start cryin’ I swear I’ll give you a good reason to. I’m goin’ to sleep, and you’d best not wake me up if you know what’s good for you,” Luther said as he brushed past her and got into bed.
Tears welled in her eyes and she instinctively held her necklace for comfort. Luther was back, but what had happened to the sweet and gentle man she fell in love with?
* * *
LUTHER LAY STILL AS Michelle crept around the cabin. It was early evening, and a thunderstorm boomed outside. He had woken sometime in the afternoon, went to the outhouse, and fell back in bed, exhausted.
He watched Michelle brush her hair while admiring herself in her fancy hand mirror. She had changed into a yellow satin and lace dress. He took a deep breath. The cabin smelled like flowers. The normally inviting scent sickened him.
He glared at her as she fussed with her hair. Everything about her was a lie. Michelle, or whoever she was, wasn’t a mail-order bride. She was a whore on the run.
Luther moved his head and tried not to wince as a searing pain shot through his skull. He should have known better. He should have been able to recognize her for what she was. After all, whores were all he’d ever been with.
Why hadn’t he listened to Redfeather? He had warned him about spending his money on a mail-order bride. He never should have gotten involved with a white woman from back east. He licked his split lips. That’s where he’d send her, back east.
“Are you awake?”
He sat up and ignored the muscle spasms racing up his spine. “Get me water.” There was no point in pretending to be nice. It’d be easier if he started out gruff. Spending the last three weeks in jail had given him plenty of time to think.
He had endured weeks of Jed’s taunts, unable to defend himself against the daily abuse, and unable to block out Jed’s cruel words. The brutal beatings hurt less than finding out the truth about Michelle.
“Are you feeling better?” Michelle’s skirts swished as she came close.
He grabbed a handful of the silky material. “What’s this?”
“One of the dresses I brought with me. I thought since you were home, I’d wear it. It’s sort of a special occasion.” She squeezed his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged her hand away. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You’re acting strange.”
“Yeah? Well, your actin’ days are over.” He studied her face closely. He wanted to see how good of a liar she was.
She furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” He got out of bed and picked up Michelle’s pearl-handled hairbrush.
She touched his arm. “Luther, what—”
“Don’t put your hands on me, you whore!” He hurled the brush against the far wall. The pearl handle shattered to pieces.
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Truth? I don’t know what—”
“You’re a liar.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me. I wanna hear you say it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What have I done wrong? I took care of the cabin. I wanted everything to be special when you came home.”
“Stop it. I know you’ve been lying to me the whole time.” He marched across the cabin. One by one, he snatched her precious books off the shelf and tossed them onto the fire.
“Hey! Those are mine! What—”
“Yours, Michelle?” He smirked. “I thought they were Kathleen’s. How long did you think it would take me to figure it out, Kathleen? How could you do this to me?”
She gasped. “Luther, I—”
“You ain’t a mail-order bride. You’re nothing but a runaway whore. Why did you pick me, the dumb half-breed to take advantage of? The first thing I asked you was, ‘Is this a trick?’ and you said no. You lied to me the second you saw me.” He swept the dishes off the mantel with his arm, enjoying the crash as they clattered to the floor.
“I didn’t. I—”
“I took you into my house, fed you, and kept you safe.” His chest heaved and blood pounded in his veins. “I fought for you. I almost got killed defendin’ your honor.”
He paused. “Honor, ha. All this time you pretended to be a scared virgin, so I’d leave you alone. What a joke. Now I know the truth. You couldn’t let me touch you ’cause then I’d know you were with other men, a whole lotta other men.” He kicked a chair and sent it flying halfway across the cabin.
Michelle cowered against the wall near the bed. “That’s not true.”
His fury raged as rain pelted the windows. How dare she deny it!
“I used up all my money to get me a wife. All I wanted was a decent woman to come up here and be with me. You know how long it took me to save that money? All the things I went without? No, you wouldn’t care. You don’t have a heart. You’re just a wicked little whore.”
Michelle cringed and shook her head. “Stop saying that. I’m not.”
“Like hell. When I was locked up, Jed teased me about you. He said it was strange how I had gotten me a wife when he never sent my application to the mail-order place. He stole my money and threw the damn papers away.”
Thunder shook the cabin, and his rage surged. He grabbed the coffee pot and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall near the fireplace. Michelle yelped as cold coffee splattered everywhere.
“They figured I’d never know. I’d think nobody wanted me. Clyde sent away for a new girl about month before you showed up. And then one day you got off the coach and said you were my wife. Boy, they liked that. They sat around at night laughing about the half-breed and the whore!”
“I’m not a whore. I swear,” she cried.
“Don’t lie to me.” He kicked over Michelle’s trunks, breaking the lid off one. Her expensive dresses spilled to the floor, and he stomped on the trunk lid. “I damn near got myself killed because I trusted you. In between the beatings I had time to think about everything. The books, you not lettin’ me touch you, you saying you worked in New Orleans, the nightmares, this big secret—”
“Please, let me explain.” Michelle ran to his side and clasped his arm. “I was lost and scared when I got off the coach, and you were nice to me. I couldn’t stay in town. Those men were animals. I had to go somewhere. I pretended to be your wife because it was the only way out.”
He tried to pull away, but Michelle clutched him tighter. Lightning flashed in the windows and rain battered the roof as the storm gathered strength.
“I wasn’t tricking you to be mean. I intended to move on in a week or so, but then I got comfortable here. I wanted to tell you the truth when we were at the lake, but I didn’t know—”
“I’m not listening to more of your lies. Tomorrow I’m leavin’ you at Jed’s, and you’ll get what you deserve.”
“No, don’t do that to me, please. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t tricking you, I needed to—”
“You’re a liar.” He grabbed Michelle by the shoulders and shook her. “Admit it!”
“Let me go. Get your hands off me.” Michelle tore from his grip and ran across the cabin. Her dress got caught up on the fallen chair, tripping her. She yelped as her head hit the edge of the table and she went down.
He waited a minute for her to stand. “Come on, get up. No more pretending.” When she didn’t answer, he walked over to her. Michelle lay on the floor, not moving. He knelt at her side. “Michelle? Wake up.”
After a minute, she stirred and gazed up at him. Her brown eyes widened in horror. “Don’t hurt me, Roger, please. I won’t tell anyone. I swear,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
He scowled. Roger? Michelle thought he was Roger? Maybe hitting her head on the table had scrambled her brains. He touched her arm. “It’s me, Luther. I’m not—”
Michelle struggled to her feet and ran to the door. “Stay away from me. Don’t touch me!” Thunder rocked the cabin as Michelle bolted out into the storm.
“Michelle, wait!” He chased after her. The north wind drove cold rainwater into his eyes. He slipped in the mud and fell to his knees. “Michelle!” A blue-white flash of lightning illuminated the mountain. “Come back, Michelle!”
He caught a glimpse of her as she ran up the trail. Where was she going? Her yellow dress gleamed ghostly white in the night. Something had happened to her when she hit her head on the table, and she wasn’t herself. Did she know where she was?
“Stop, Michelle!” The howling wind carried his words away. After a minute, he realized she was heading for the ridge. He had to catch her before she got hurt.
He pressed on as his bruised and battered body screamed in agony. “Stop!” A roar of thunder drowned out his plea.
Michelle was out of her mind with fear. But then again, she had every right to be afraid. His demon had taken over, and in his rage he’d acted like a madman. His pride had been so wounded he hadn’t given her a chance to explain. Maybe she would have told him everything tonight. Now he’d never know the truth.
He slipped in the mud and fell hard onto his side. He lay in the muck, panting and trying to catch his breath. His ribs were bruised, or broken, he didn’t know which. It hurt like hell to breathe, and running was nearly impossible.
He pushed himself up. He had to keep going. If anything happened to Michelle, he’d never forgive himself.
A shrill cry cut through the night. He rounded the bend in time to see Michelle slip and tumble toward the cliff. Too late.
He watched, helpless, as she frantically clawed at the loose branches and rocks, trying to gain a handhold. She screamed as she went over the edge.
