Garrett and Jackson had to slow down to make sure they didn’t lose the tracks, but they could feel they were getting close. And then they heard a distant gunshot, pulled up and looked at each other.
“Let’s go!”
They spurred their horses and took off at a gallop toward the forested area where the shot had originated. Please, please, please, don’t let it be Libby, Garrett was praying, and Jackson’s thoughts were similar. They couldn’t have come this far to lose her now. Garrett felt absolutely frantic; he had to steel himself to calm down.
As they entered the forest, they came upon an outcropping of large rocks and decided to tether their horses behind the rocks and proceed on foot. Jackson had taught Garrett, when he was still a teen, how to travel the land soundlessly, and no one did it better. The two men made their way through the woods toward a thrashing sound.
Silently, Garrett nudged Jackson’s shoulder and nodded ahead, where Dooley was clomping through the brush, trying to ferret out some critter. They could easily have taken him, but Jackson indicated they should follow him, and Garrett nodded. They watched from behind a couple of massive Douglas firs as Dooley cried out triumphantly and emerged from the brush clutching a scrawny rabbit by the back feet.
He turned with his catch and began tromping back toward the camp, making about as much noise as an elephant rampaging through the forest. Garrett just looked at Jackson, shaking his head. Slowly, noiselessly, they began following him.
* * *
Back in camp, Chad sidled up to Libby’s prone and wilted figure and gaped down at her lasciviously. She knew it even though her eyes were closed. She hoped he couldn’t see her skin crawling. Then he bent down and moved a lock of hair off her cheek. When Garrett did that it was tender and sensuous. Now it was just obscene. She wondered if he could feel her heart pounding in fear and tried to buck up her courage. Where was Lionhearted Libby when she needed her? She had just had that thought when Chad grabbed her chin and turned her head from side to side, studying her face. He let go, and for a moment she thought she was safe, but then he suddenly grabbed both her breasts. She couldn’t help herself; she shrieked.
“I suspicioned you were awake. Good, it’ll be more fun that way.”
She tried to squirm away, to no avail. He grabbed her dress at the neck and ripped viciously downward, exposing her camisole. She hadn’t even worn stays. The man sat back on his heels for a moment to enjoy the view he had created, and Libby bent her knees, then kicked at his crotch as hard as she could. He turned just in time to avoid the blow to his family jewels but caught it in the thigh and stumbled backwards.
“You bitch!” He jumped up, pulled her up by her camisole and slapped her so hard she saw stars. Then he threw himself on top of her as she screamed and fought him with all her diminished might, clawing and biting her attacker.
At that point Dooley appeared at the campsite with his sad little rabbit. “Chad, what are you doin’? I don’t think we weren’t supposed to hurt her too much.”
“Get lost, Dooley! Come back in a while,” Chad ground out as he planted his smelly lips on Libby’s battered face.
She bit his lip and he yelled, smacking her again. That’s when a bullet hit him in the forehead, sending him crashing backwards onto the ground. Dooley dropped the rabbit and struggled to pull out his pistol as Jackson and Garret rushed the camp. The outlaw got his gun out of his holster but didn’t have time to bring it up before both Garrett and Jackson shot him in the chest. He sank to the ground like a stone.
As Jackson cautiously approached the fallen men, he turned to Garrett. “Go.”
Garrett pivoted and hastened to Libby, who shook uncontrollably and sobbed. As he reached for her, she shrunk back. He spoke to her soothingly and gently gathered her up into his arms. “You’re safe, Libby. I’ve got you.”
She looked at him with the saddest, bleakest eyes. “G…Garrett? I knew you would come. I knew it.”
That plaintive statement warmed him right down to his hard heart. “We got here as soon as we could.”
Garrett looked over her head at Jackson, who shook his head, indicating the second outlaw was dead. He held his young wife for 10, 15, 20 minutes, rocking her gently. Meanwhile, Jackson headed off and retrieved the horses. Gradually her crying lessened and then finally ceased, but she still trembled.
“Do you want to camp here for the night, Libby, and rest up?”
She looked at Garrett almost as if she didn’t see him, which scared him more than her previous look.
“Libby?”
“I…I want to go h…home,” she said in almost a whisper, and his heart nearly splintered in pieces. Was she ready to go back to St. Louis? He wouldn’t blame her, but he wasn’t ready to let her go. “Home?”
“To the ranch. Please, Garrett.”
Thank God. He looked at Jackson. “Let’s go home then.”
Garrett picked Libby up and carried her to his horse. As he passed Jackson, he stopped.
Jackson smiled at Libby but addressed Garrett. “I’ll clean up here, then head to Deer Lodge and let the sheriff know about this.”
“Bring the doctor.”
Libby raised her head from Garrett’s shoulder. “I don’t need a doctor,” she insisted. “I’ll be all right.”
The men ignored her.
“We’ll meet you back at the ranch.”
Jackson placed a hand on Libby’s head. He thought she might shrink back, but she didn’t. “We’ll get through this, Lib. The Buttermans come from strong stock.”
She didn’t exactly smile, but she calmed a little, which Garrett took as a good sign. She clung to him as Jackson lifted her onto Garrett’s gelding. She looked down at Jackson, took a deep breath and spoke quietly.
“It was my fault. I…I should not have gone to town.”
“Hush.”
“I stopped being careful. I thought I was safe. When I get my strength back, I have to leave. I feel at home here, but I can’t stay.”
“You’re not leaving, Libby,” Garrett said. “You’re my wife. We just underestimated the opposition. It will not happen again. We’ll keep you safe. I swear it. Now hold onto the horn.”
“Bossy,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He pulled her bottom snugly against his loins, which responded to the impact. He felt guilty entertaining lustful thoughts when she was so battered and pained, but they didn’t easily go away.
Hours later, after stopping twice to rest the horse and try, unsuccessfully, to get Libby to eat some of the beef and cheese they had packed, Garrett reined in his horse at the top of the knoll overlooking the ranch house.
“There it is,” he announced. He thought Libby might be sleeping.
“Home,” she sighed softly. “I’ll never get over how beautiful it looks from here.”
He adjusted his position uncomfortably and then said, “Libby…Did those men…did they…”
“No,” she sobbed. “You got there in time. You saved me, Garrett.”
“Yes, you’re safe now,” he said, his heart nearly bursting with relief and something like pride.
* * *
Two hours later, Garrett, Jackson and Carmen waited anxiously downstairs while the doctor examined and treated Libby.
“What’s taking so long?” Garrett had been pacing for what seemed like an hour.
“You want him to be thorough, don’t you? Sit down, son. Give your boots and our nerves a rest.”
Earlier, Carmen had fixed Libby a hot bath and washed her down. The girl had been teary but stoic and kept scrubbing her body long after Carmen had finished. The older woman understood.
“Chica, everything will be all right. Those evil men have paid the price for their wickedness. Your husband and father will not let anyone get you again.”
“Did anyone hurt my mother when she lived here? Is that why she left?”
“Your mother was young and beautiful and soft. She wanted pretty things and a gay life, remember, not the life of a rancher. You are made of stronger stock. You know the things that matter in life.”
“I do?” she asked tearfully. “What are they?”
Carmen smiled. “That is for you to decide and believe, Libby, but know this. You have brought life and joy to the Butterman Ranch and have already changed two men set in their ways.”
Libby had smiled sadly as Carmen helped her out of the bath and wrapped a large towel around her. Then she helped the injured young woman into a cotton embroidered nightgown and led her to the bed. Fluffing up her pillows so she could sit up, Carmen insisted she drink a cup of tea, then sat with her until she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Now, finally, Doc Watkins came down the stairs, carrying his weathered black bag.
“How is she, Doc?” Garrett asked, forcing himself not to grab the man by his lapels.
“She’s taken quite a beating, but nothing’s broken. No concussion. I stitched up the cut on her cheek and one on her knee and treated the bruises. What she needs now is plenty of rest and care. Try to keep her spirits up. She’s rather down right now.”
That about tore Garrett’s heart out. Libby was always so cheerful, and it killed him to realize how wounded in spirit she was. He vowed to himself he would do everything he could to bring her back to her old self.
“And maybe you could find a way to keep her from being knocked unconscious. That’s not good for a body.”
No wonder she won’t stay, Garrett had the uncomfortable thought. She’d been nothing but battered since she arrived.
“What do I owe you, Doc?” Jackson shook the doctor’s hand.
“I’ll send you a bill,” the physician said wearily. “Or we can just keep adding it up until you owe me a side of beef. You folks are my best customers,” he smiled. “I’ll be back to check on her in a couple of days. She should stay in bed until then. If her wounds fester earlier or any other problem arises before then, send for me.”
Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”
They headed out, and Carmen watched Garrett looking up the stairs. “What are you waiting for?”
Garrett hesitated. “I don’t know what to say to lift her spirits.”
“I do not think you need to say anything. Just be there. And listen.”
Garrett looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, nodded and headed up the stairs with leaden feet. He wasn’t used to feeling so helpless. And, if he was completely honest with himself, so afraid. What was it about Libby that touched him so? Right now she needed him. He could go back to keeping his distance, protecting his heart from her, when she was completely recovered, back to the Libby he knew and l…Whoa! He stopped that thought right in its tracks.
When he got to his old bedroom and gingerly opened the door, he was relieved to see that Libby was asleep. He quietly approached the bed and gazed down at her. She looked so fragile lying there under the hand-stitched quilt Carmen’s mother had fashioned. The right side of her face was bruised and puffy, and the left side included abrasions and a row of stitches. He also could see bruises and scratches on her left arm, which was above the covers. He suspected he would find them all over her body if he looked under those covers.
And didn’t just the thought of looking under the covers cause a stirring in his trousers? What in God’s name was wrong with him? He had always thought of himself as a healthy young man with a healthy man’s appetites, but never a lustful man. It seemed Libby brought out the worst in him. Although he would take care of her and provide for her until she left and probably even provide for her after that, he had to find a way to limit his physical contact with her and keep that protection around his heart before she did more damage than he could recover from. She didn’t belong here. She would just keep getting hurt and eventually somebody or something would kill her. Either that or she’d miss the city lights too much. Maybe she would be stubborn enough to stay, but it would change her. No, she would leave on her own or he would find a way to make her leave.
He sat down in the chair they had moved from the dressing table for the doctor and watched her sleep, watched her breathe in and out, in and out. She was a much smaller woman than she seemed. It was her spark, her life’s essence that made her seemed bigger, he surmised. After all she’d been through, Garrett decided even her stubbornness wouldn’t hold her here. She probably would be leaving sooner rather than later. He understood. A person could only take so much. Even he could only take so much.
He had sat there ruminating for over an hour, going back and forth on if and when she would leave, when she stirred and moaned. He leaned over and gently patted her shoulder. “It’s all right, Libby. You’re home at the ranch. You’re safe.”
She opened her eyes but couldn’t seem to focus. She closed them for a minute or so, and he thought she had gone back to sleep. Then she opened them again, with better results. After a few moments, she slowly turned to Garrett.
“I…I was so stupid.”
“No, Libby, don’t blame yourself for what bad people do. This is a harsh country.”
“I feel like it will never end.”
“There will always be some kind of danger here. That’s life. But this particular danger will end. I’ll make sure of it. Know, though, there will always be danger out here, floods, fires, famines, outlaws, Indians, bears, snakes, gopher holes.”
She almost smiled. “Thanks for cheering me up.”
He squeezed her hand. “How do you feel?”
She tried to sit up. “Unh…Like I was in a stampede.”
He helped her, adjusting pillows behind her. “Are you hungry?”
“Could I just trouble you for some water or lemonade or something cold?” Why did her voice sound so pathetic? And so young? She hated that.
Garrett poured from a pitcher on her dressing table into a tin cup and handed it to her. It took a Herculean effort to keep her hands from shaking. Still, he saw the tremor.
“I’m proud of you, Libby.”
“Why?” Still, that weak voice.
“You never gave up. I saw you fighting that varmint off when we got to the camp.”
She handed him the cup. “I don’t feel strong now. I feel like a complete ninny.”
He smiled. “You just need to get a good long rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
She looked at him so plaintively and for what seemed like minutes, he had to fight to keep from filling the gap with some inane comment. Finally, she sighed.
“What do you want from this marriage, Garrett?”
What did he want? He wanted to never feel cheated or betrayed or let down by another woman. He wanted to slake his lust but never engage his heart. He wanted to keep her at a distance, never letting her pierce his protection. “I want to keep you safe,” he said. “And when we take care of these men who are causing problems…”
He hesitated, and she felt cold suddenly, like an icy chill went up her spine.
“…then I think you should go back East.”
She just looked at him with those sad eyes and he felt forced to go on.
“This is a rough country, and you’ve already been hurt several times. You don’t belong here. You should be going to teas and balls and laughing and dancing.”
He had just described her mother, hadn’t he? She fought back tears of outrage. Libby had her flaws, she knew, but she was not as shallow as Elinora. That hurt.
He saw the look of disappointment before she covered it with a look he couldn’t identify. Pity? Sadness? Despair? Confusion? It wasn’t contempt, was it? “I want you to be safe, too,” she said. “I’m so tired,” she said then. She would not meet his eyes. Why should that bother him? He was getting what he wanted, wasn’t he?
He knew he had failed her, but he could not give her what he didn’t have, could he? They would both be better off if she folded her tent and went back to St. Louis. After he and Jackson had taken care of her stepfather and fake fiancé, that is.
He moved the pillows propping her up so she could recline. “You sleep, Libby. Someone will be here when you wake up.”
“You?”
“Or Carmen or Jackson. I’ll stay with you now.”
“Thank you.”
She turned her back to him and settled under the covers. He felt uncomfortable, let down. Was he disappointed in her or himself? She really was blameless in all this. He should have protected her better. As he watched her fall into a deep slumber, he came to a decision. He was done waiting for Edward DeJulius or her stepfather to attack her or anyone else on the ranch. He would track them down and put an end to it, even if that would hasten the time that Libby would leave. Better for her to be safe and gone than here and dead.