Fourteen

Abraham, will you send word to Caleb to let him know I won’t be meeting him today?” Em asked while heating water on the stove. Mae had woken up sick. It didn’t seem very serious to Em, but Abigail had insisted the doctor come.

“Of course.” He began fastening his shoes. “It’s good of you to stay with Abigail. She worries something awful when the children are sick.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

He looked up at her. “But it’s more than most would do. I’ll let Caleb know.”

All morning Em helped around the house, bouncing between the kitchen and the girls’ room. Often she heard Eliza readying herself for her outing with Caleb. Not once did she enter the girls’ room to see how her sister was faring. Instead, she fretted over missing gloves and the color of her bonnet. It took all of Em’s willpower not to rush downstairs and tell Eliza to grow up and think of someone other than herself.

When eleven o’clock finally rolled around, Em could not resist scooting her chair near the little girls’ window. She watched as Caleb rode up on Amos. Good old Amos—she longed to pet his soft nose. Caleb was clean shaven and wore the same handsome suit he’d worn at the social. Seeing him ride up like a prince, she berated herself for ever believing he might care for her.

Eliza came out of the house with her hair in ringlets tucked under an ornate bonnet of the most delicate violet. Her dress, the latest fashion, was custom-made to fit her curves perfectly. Em forced her eyes away. She couldn’t look one moment more at perfect Eliza. It only reminded her of every curve she did not have. Watching only hurt.

“Mae, would you like me to tell you another story? I’ve remembered one you’ve never heard about a girl who lived with her parents deep in the woods where the ogres roamed.”

Mae’s tired eyes lit up, looking more alive than they had all morning. “Please tell it,” the little girl said.

And so Em sat beside her, holding her hand and whispering her stories. She felt a warmth deep within her. The same warmth that had penetrated her heart as a girl when she’d held Lucy’s hand.

“I love you, Mae,” she whispered when the girl had drifted off to sleep. Em sat watching her. Grateful and afraid of the love she’d found with these good people.

At quarter to noon, Abigail insisted Em get ready for work. “You must go. I’ll be fine here with the girls and Margaret depends on you.”

“If she needs someone to sit with her tonight, I’ll gladly do it,” Em said, looking at the still-sleeping Mae.

“You’re so good with them. Go now and let her rest. Hopefully she wakes feeling better.” Abigail shooed her from the room.

Obediently, Em left for work. Her heart wasn’t in it though. A sinking feeling made it hard for her to even focus on the words around her as she walked. Something felt wrong. Was it because Caleb was with Eliza? She scanned the town as she walked, wondering if she would see the couple.

She tried to be happy for them. But all she felt was a twisting in her gut.

“You’re coming with me,” a man’s voice said from out of nowhere, startling her. Then the man reached around her and pulled her tight against him. His strong arms knocked the basket—with the hidden gun inside—from her hands and to the ground.

Shooting pain raced through her as the man twisted her arm behind her back and dragged her around the corner of the mercantile. Then up in the air she went as he threw her onto a horse. Finally understanding what was happening to her, she kicked and screamed, fighting to escape. She bit and clawed at the man as she tried to fend him off, but his strength was too much for her. He quickly hopped up on the horse behind her and rode off.

His arm around her waist was so tight that she felt short of breath. The world spun. Before she passed out, her head tipped back against the man and under his cap she saw tufts of red hair. A wicked smile spread across his face, showing a missing front tooth. Alroy. Then she went weak.

“I think I’ve left my post neglected long enough.” Caleb rose from the log he and Eliza had been sitting on.

Eliza did not rise. “You could stay a little longer. Nothing ever happens in Azure Springs anyway.”

“If only that were true,” Caleb said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Finally she stood up and walked over to him, putting her hand on his arm. “But if you head back, I don’t know when I’ll get you alone again.” Her lips turned downward into an alluring pout.

“All the same, I have to return.” He busied himself gathering up the remains of their picnic lunch and putting them in the saddlebags.

Letting out a little huff of frustration, she too began gathering their belongings. “Perhaps I’ll have to cause some trouble around town. Then you’d have to take me in, lock me up, and make sure I was never left alone.”

“I’m sure a lady like yourself would do no such thing.” Caleb tried to remain pleasant. Pleasant was a challenge though. All he wanted to do was be free of Eliza and her flirtatious ways. Their time together had felt so artificial. Like a scripted performance, nothing real about it. He found his mind wandering to Em, wondering what she would have talked about if it had been the two of them together all afternoon. He knew he would have felt relaxed in her presence.

He’d played the part of a gentleman very well all through the meal, but he was ready to be Caleb again. “Amos is loaded up. Let’s head back.”

He offered Eliza his hand, ready to help her onto the tall horse. She took it and held it, making no move for Amos. “When you leave me at home, there will be such a crowd around. Let’s say our farewell here. It’s so quiet and peaceful, so romantic.” And then she turned her little heart-shaped face up at him and waited.

His pulse was running rampant at the sight of her obvious intentions. What am I to do? He should want to kiss her, to take her in his arms. Not long ago he would have thought himself lucky to have a beautiful girl asking for his affection.

Clearing his throat, he let go of her hand, took a step back, and dropped his arms to his sides. “Thank you for an enjoyable picnic, Eliza.”

Piercing eyes studied him. “That is your farewell?” Hands on hips, she challenged him.

“It . . . it has been nice. I must be getting back now,” he said.

Eliza dramatically stepped toward Amos and attempted to pull herself up onto him. Caleb stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and watched. When she failed on her third attempt, he scooped her up and put her into the saddle. Without looking back at him, she smoothed her skirts and pointed her nose straight ahead.

As they rode back toward the Howells’ home, Eliza sat in silence, moping. Caleb knew he should try to smooth things over but was afraid he would laugh if he opened his mouth. She called herself a grown woman but threw a fit like a child.

At the Howells’ he hopped off Amos and helped her down. Like a cat, she darted for the door. His stride was long, though, and he caught hold of her before she disappeared into the house. “Hold up.”

“I’ve nothing more to say to you. You’ve made yourself clear. You don’t care for me.” Anger, not hurt, blazed in her eyes. “How am I supposed to tell Olivia and all the other girls that the picnic went? Shall I let them all know you are not a gentleman? That you feigned affection, led my heart astray, only to hurt me?”

Caleb rubbed his freshly shaven chin as he searched for the right words. “I suppose you can tell the girls whatever you want about our time together. Shall I tell everyone you are a spoiled brat who needs a few good switches to the backside?”

“Ooohhh! How could you even say that?” She stomped her foot but did not walk away. “How dare you.”

“Come now, Eliza. You’re ready to tell the town I was no gentleman, all because I didn’t give you the kisses you were wanting. Do you even care for me or did you just like the idea of whispering to all the girls about our picnic under the trees—making them jealous?”

Surprised he didn’t see steam rising from her furious head, he kept talking. “Let’s be honest with each other. Let’s both stop pretending. The truth is I admire your family. I hope to always be welcome here. Few places feel as much like a real home as yours. It’s full of good people. You are a beautiful woman and I thought perhaps there could be something more. But it’s not going to work.”

Eliza still didn’t respond. Her eyes were now downcast.

“I include you in the list of good people in this home.” He wished she would look at him. “Like I said, I hope to always be welcome here. But you and I would not make a very good match. Not as anything more than friends.”

Eliza looked up. “But why?”

“Because we’re too different. I am not the right person to make you happy. And—I need someone else too. Truth is, I’m figuring it out.” Caleb put a soft hand on her shoulder. “Can we be friends?”

“Is it Em? Homely, plain Em who has you running from me?” Eliza spit the words at him. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? If she’d never come, things could be different. You and I could have a future.”

“Be fair.” Caleb let his hand drop from her shoulder. “Spending time with Em has helped me realize the type of woman I hope to end up with. But I think I would have realized we were not a good match even without her. I only regret it took me this long to see it. I never meant to hurt you.” He shook his head and reminded himself that Eliza did not choose to be spoiled.

“What is so wrong with me?”

“Well, I don’t know that there is anything wrong with you. There may be plenty of men out there who would be happy their whole life to have a woman like you on their arm. But I need someone who sees other people as important, with needs and feelings too. Your mama is one of those people. Em is too. I don’t know who the right girl is for me, but I do know she will be someone kind and giving. Someone I can laugh with and be myself around.” Were his words explaining what he felt? He hoped so. “I couldn’t live my whole life worrying about saying the right things.”

“I could be like my mama. I could,” Eliza said. “If you’d give me a chance, I could be like that.”

“I think you could—and I hope you will be. When you are, if you are, some good man will get himself a real gem.”

With the anger gone, replaced by remorse, she said, “But that man won’t be you?”

“No, it won’t be me. But I hope I’m your friend and that I’ll get to see you happy with whoever that man is.”

Eliza nodded. “Thank you, Caleb. For not being afraid to tell me what you really think.” She went into the house and left him on the porch with his own thoughts.

Did I do the right thing? Then, laughing to himself, he thought of his parents as he hopped onto Amos and began the ride toward town. He pictured the devastation on their faces if they ever found out he’d turned down the belle of the town.

As he passed the boardinghouse, he spotted Margaret with her back to him, putting wash on the line. “Afternoon, Mrs. Anders,” he shouted.

She turned toward him—her mouth full of clothespins and her wild curls blowing in the wind—and waved. She took the clothespins from her mouth and shouted back. “Same to you. Where are you hiding Em? I can hardly get by without her. I’ve become so used to her help.”

“Em?” He looked around absently as though he expected to see her emerge from the house.

“She has never been late before. I’m sure it has something to do with you,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’ve become sweet on her? Am I right?”

“She didn’t come in? Are you sure?” His insides twisted into a tight knot. Without knowing, he knew. Alroy had come back. “I’ll find her.”

“You better.” Gone was the laughter from her eyes. “That girl is worth her weight in gold.”

With no time to hear any more, he quickly rode to the Howells’. Once there, he jumped from Amos’s back and ran to the door, his heart racing with fear and rage. How had he let this happen?

With fists knotted in balls, he banged on the door with all his might. He waited impatiently as perspiration ran down his forehead. Again he knocked, pounding, until he heard footsteps rushing to the door.

“What is it, Caleb?” Eliza said breathlessly.

“Em. Is she here? When did everyone see her last? I have to know.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I was with you.”

Caleb pushed past her and into the front room. “Abigail!”

“She’s not here either. She went to the store to see Papa.”

Caleb smacked the back of the sofa, groaned, and started for the door.

“Wait,” Eliza said as she stepped in front of him.

“I can’t wait. You might not care about Em, but I do, and I have to find her,” he shouted in her face. “It’s my fault—I should have been here.” He brought his palm down hard on the sofa again.

Eliza’s voice was gentle. Kinder than it had ever been before. “The girls are out back. They might know when she left.”

He followed her lead. Without a word, they moved through the house and out the back door. Mae and Milly were sitting under their tree, each with a doll nestled in their lap. Little chatter bounced between them and their dolls.

“Girls, when did Em leave this morning?” Eliza asked.

He was glad she spoke. He felt completely out of control. Anger, dread, fear—they were all colliding throughout his mind and body like a vicious storm.

“Em stayed with me all morning because I was sick,” Mae said. “I’m better now. She told me a fine story. Then mama made her leave and go to work. I heard her say she’d better go so she wouldn’t be late.”

“It looks like she was headed to work at the normal time,” Eliza said.

“Thank you, Eliza. For asking them.” He grabbed her hand. “I have to go now. I have to find her. Keep the girls safe.”

She nodded. “I hope you find her. I really do.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, forced a smile, and said, “It’s good of you to say. Take these girls inside. I don’t know what kind of trouble is coming.”

Keep calm. Just keep calm.

It was just past one o’clock. An hour. A whole hour she’d been gone. She had disappeared somewhere between the Howells’ and the boardinghouse. Retracing the steps she would have taken, he hurried through town, hoping to find a clue that would point him in the direction he should head.

He saw her basket lying overturned under the overhang of the mercantile, which was about a block from the boardinghouse. He picked it up and tore the napkin out of it. His gun. Blast. Em had no way to protect herself. He shook the basket in frustration, causing the stick man he’d given her to fall to the ground. Dropping to his knees, he scooped it up. His body shook, overcome with a deep and foreboding dread that felt worse than anything he’d ever known. He fought the urge to cry as he took the stick man in his hands.

Knowing that giving in to the storm of emotions would leave him useless, he fought to regain control, to think clearly. After rising from the ground, he shoved the gun and the stick man into his saddlebags. The basket remained overturned—a silent testament to the atrocity.

Never had a crime felt so personal. Sure, he’d worried over other victims, mourned deaths, and lost sleep over tragedy. But this. This was different. He felt as if a part of himself were lost—stolen—and he had to rescue it.

From high on Amos, he looked in all directions. Where would they go? Digging his heels deeper than necessary into Amos, he set out. Destined for Hollow Creek.

“Let me be right,” he prayed aloud. If he was wrong—no, he wouldn’t think about that yet. His gut was all he had to go on. Amos was well rested, and he was big and fast. He could possibly overtake them.

Em, jolted awake, tried to reach out and steady herself, only to find her hands were not free—thick rope held them tightly together. She was only staying on the horse because Alroy had an arm around her waist. Appalled that she was so close to him, she straightened her back in a vain attempt to put some distance between their bodies, even if it was only a mere centimeter.

Responding to her movements, he spoke. “Decided to come to, did you?”

“Where are we going?” Em asked, her voice flat.

“Well, missy, if you must know, we’re going back to George’s. You’re going to get me my money.”

“George didn’t talk to me much. I don’t know anything. Did he talk to you?” Still no emotion. How quickly she slipped back into her old ways. All the years she’d lived with George she’d kept her features and words void of emotion. “I know you knew him.”

“Sure, he talked. He and Gerda both talked. And they yelled and they whipped.”

Em winced at the thought. George seemed so worn out when she was there. She’d always seen him as a tired old man. He had never tried to know her, let alone discipline her.

“I didn’t know Gerda.”

His arm tightened painfully around her as he pulled the horse to a stop. In a single movement, he jumped off the animal’s back, dragging her with him. He dropped her on the ground and paced away from her. With her hands tied, it was a struggle to stand but she managed.

“You don’t know nothin’ about Gerda. Or what it was like.”

“I don’t claim to,” Em said. “George never even talked of her. I only know her name.”

“Gerda’s dead, same as George.” Alroy pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Fumbling with a match, he struggled to light it. The match blew out and he swore and threw it to the ground. Then he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a length of rope.

Em meant to bite her tongue, to let him fume on his own, but words just came. “You killed Gerda too?”

He slapped her, knocking her down. With her face stinging and her vision blurry from the blow, she struggled to sit up. It was safer being able to see and anticipate his moves.

“I didn’t kill Gerda,” he said as he pushed her skirts up to her knees and tied her ankles together. “Well, I did, but not how you’s thinkin’ I did. And I wouldn’t have killed George if he would have just let me be.”

Maybe she could distract him?

“I came on a train. An orphan train. Is that how you came?” She asked the questions hoping he’d continue to talk.

Alroy didn’t say anything. She filled the silence. “No one wanted me. No one but George, and I don’t think he really wanted me. I’m not sure why he claimed me. Just used me to tend a few animals and fix his meals.”

“You from the city?” Alroy asked.

“I am. I lived there until I was twelve. Are you from there?” Em’s chest tightened as she realized their stories were not so different.

“My pa dropped me off with the Society when I was eight. Said he had too many mouths to feed. I never set foot in the city again.” He seemed calmer now, as he leaned against a tree and successfully lit a cigarette. “No one wanted me either.”

“I haven’t been back. I bet it’s changed. I used to know my way around, but I’d probably feel lost there now.”

“’Course it’s changed.” Alroy spit, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Everyone kept living without us.” He was looking at his feet. Em pictured him as a little boy. A hurt little boy, all alone and afraid.

“I lived in George’s barn for seven years—just barely getting by—only to end up in a town with people who had real lives. People who were living.” Em tried to loosen the rough rope on her wrists that was cutting her skin. “It’s taken me some getting used to. No one understands what it’s been like.”

“I started living my life too. Just different than some folks. I got tired of waiting for good things to come my way and decided to take a little. Figured I was owed a few easy breaks.” Alroy sat down on a log then and scratched his head. Scratched it hard, his nails fighting a battle with the vermin that must have lived on his scalp. “I ain’t been sorry.”

“Is the money you’re hoping to find your easy break?”

“Other people got plenty. I took some, enough so I could get away and start over. That’s all it was supposed to be. Stuff happened. It got out of hand, that’s all. But I need that money now. I got to get out of here.”

Risking rousing his anger, she asked, “Why did George have it?”

“After Gerda died, I took off, joined up with Bill and Morris. I did the bank job with them. We hid the money. We was gonna split it up, and I was gonna go west and start over. I heard you could get your own land. Problem was, George never knew how to keep out of my business.” Again his nails dug into his scalp. His voice was full of venom when he spoke again. “George was tracking me ever since I ran. He snuck into camp and took the money. We threw some fists around, but somehow George made off with it. He ruined everything.”

“And you think he still has it?” Em asked. “He didn’t live like he had any money.”

Alroy looked at her like she was foolish. “’Course he has it. Don’t you know nothing ’bout George?”

Fighting the urge to laugh, she bit her bottom lip. It was a strange time to laugh, tied here in the woods with a desperate man, but the question was bizarre. George had barely fed her, barely clothed her, barely spoken to her. “I don’t know much of anything about him. The man cared nothing for me. Not even enough to tell me about his past. He came and went as he pleased. Ours was a strange relationship—if you could even call it that.”

“Well, he didn’t want the money. He wanted me. Every year he chased me. Always on my trail. When I was a boy, he would beat me and tell me he was teaching me. Took sick pleasure from it. I know he did. I saw it in his eyes—they would light up with evil excitement. The devil was behind it, I was sure of it. He wanted that money so he could rub my face in it and teach me another lesson. He knew someday I’d need it and come back looking for it. Then he’d teach me about stealin’ and about killin’.”

“But you said you didn’t kill Gerda?” Em shook her head, confused. “Why didn’t he just let you go?”

He rose, anger burning in his eyes, and walked toward her with his hands fisted. She tightened her muscles and braced for another blow. But he held back. “You just the same as me. We both got nothin’. Nothin’.” He relaxed some. “I didn’t kill Gerda. Well, I didn’t murder Gerda. George told me to clean the guns. It’s his fault, really. He didn’t tell me one of ’em was loaded. When it went off, the bullet struck her in the heart, and just like that she was gone. I might’ve wished her dead often enough, but I never planned to kill her.”

“Did you tell George what happened?”

He sneered at her. “The George I lived with never listened to me. I ran. And I been running ever since.”

Silence settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” Em said. If he hadn’t seemed so hostile, she would have said more.

“Sorry. That don’t change nothin’. I’ll be running for the rest of my life. And if they catch me, I’ll swing from the gallows. Your little sorry won’t help me.”

“It may not. But I am sorry. You were dealt a poor hand.” She envisioned the little boys she’d ridden the train with. They were Alroys too. Just little boys with uncertain futures and troublesome pasts. Little boys who had held her hand and with tear-filled eyes questioned their futures. She felt a wave of grief rush over her and silently prayed that her companions on the train had found good homes, that they’d been loved. She hoped they’d found better roofs to sleep under than Alroy had. A few stray tears escaped the corners of her eyes. She too had known desperation.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to standing. “Don’t go crying on me. I made my choices. I’ll take whatever is coming.”

“You were only eight,” Em said quietly.

“Don’t matter none now. What matters is getting me that money so I can ride on outta here,” Alroy snapped. He shoved her down once more. She rolled and sat.

Through clenched teeth she said, “I won’t be able to get on the horse unless you untie me.”

Grumbling, Alroy pulled out a knife. “I’ll cut the rope off your feet, but don’t be getting no ideas. You’ll be getting me my money. I got plenty of dead people on my record—one more won’t make a bit of difference.” He pushed her skirts to her knees, then he grabbed the ropes with one hand and held the knife in the other.

Em, trying to ignore how close he was to her, focused on a tree in the distance. “Thank you,” she said, averting her eyes from what he was doing.

Alroy flew from his bending position in front of her and landed flat on the ground a couple feet away.

What is happening? And then she knew. Caleb.

He was now on top of Alroy, struggling to get the knife from his hand. Alroy was a big man with a temper that matched his fiery hair. Roaring like a bear, he struggled underneath Caleb until he finally exerted himself enough and broke free and jumped to his feet. Knife still in hand, he slashed at Caleb, who was now on the defense.

Both men were moving so quickly that Em could not get a good look at Caleb’s wound, but blood seeped from him. She tried desperately to free herself from the bindings so she could help. If only Caleb had waited a moment longer, she thought, wishing that Alroy had freed her legs. The harder she tried to loosen them, the more the ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. She had to do something. She would not be a spectator, not of Caleb’s death.

Caleb used his long legs and kicked Alroy. Em cringed as Alroy fell to the ground. The knife he’d clung to so resiliently during the scuffle flew from his hand, landing somewhere in the underbrush. Alroy rose up again and both men made a dash for the knife. Like two raging dragons they attacked each other, leaving trampled ferns and summer grass in their wake. Fierce tempers and rage drove them at each other again and again. Each motivated by his own ambitions—one to run, one to bring justice.

The tight ropes that bound Em kept her from following after the men as they raged against each other. Flashes of them came into and out of her line of sight. Alroy was on top now. He had his hands around Caleb’s throat. Grunting and breathing hard, Alroy looked near victory.

“No!” Em shouted. “Let him go.”

Would her dear friend be the next victim? Pulling harder against her restraints, she fought for a way to help. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision as she tried to make them stop.

Regaining some composure, she was able to see again. Caleb had pulled a leg out from beneath Alroy and used it to pry Alroy’s grip loose. Caleb gasped for air. Twisting beneath Alroy, he broke away and both men stood again. Caleb turned quickly and the full force of his fist connected with Alroy’s jaw. Em again shuddered as blood ran down Alroy’s face. The man stumbled about only to receive another blow. Judging by the sound this blow made, she knew it had been backed by even more force. Again, he staggered. Em, hoping it would all be over, waited for him to fall.

However, something seemed to snap back alive in Alroy. Was he remembering all the cruel atrocities of his life? Like a deranged animal, he headed for Caleb. All sanity was gone from his eyes. Caleb must have seen it too. Taking a rapid step back, he seemed caught off guard by the menacing and evil look his pursuer now possessed.

“Turn yourself in. End this,” Caleb said.

“So I can swing for my crimes? I’d rather go down with a fight,” Alroy said, fury flashing across his face. “And take you with me.”

More punches, more blood.

Em had been working her ropes against a rough log while the two men attacked one another. At last she freed one hand and was able to untie the other bindings quickly. She looked about, wondering where Alroy’s knife was. The two seemed to have forgotten about it in the chaos. She ran to the spot she had last seen it, praying she would find it. She crawled in the underbrush and felt for it with her hands. Another silent prayer and she saw the sun reflect from the blade. She grabbed it.

Then she stomped toward the men, the knife gripped tight in her hand. “Stop this.”

Being so near Alroy made her shake. The look in his eyes was like that of a monster from a nightmare.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” He jumped at her, overtaking her and grabbing the knife. Caleb acted just as quickly. He dove for Alroy’s legs, pushing Alroy’s feet out from under him and knocking him to the ground.

Then Alroy did not move. Em looked at Caleb, her eyes wide.

Neither spoke. Both watched, waiting for the monster to rise again and the fight to go on. But Alroy remained belly down on the ground.

“Is he—is he dead?” Em whispered, unable to take her eyes off the man.

Caleb came to her side and slowly turned her away from the sight. Wrapping his big arms around her, he pulled her close and tucked her head into his shoulder so she did not have to look. “He fell on his blade. He did this. You hear me?” He was shaking too, trembling against her. “He did this. It’s not your fault.”

“He was a boy. Just a boy,” she said through her tears. “He rode the train when he was boy.”

Caleb ran his hand up and down her back. “Hush, it was not your fault. None of it was.”

“You don’t understand. He was just a boy,” she said again.

Caleb held her tighter and let her cry.

She tilted her tear-stained face up at him and asked, “What if you hadn’t come?” Then she stepped away from him. Her arms wrapped around her middle, she stumbled a few steps and then emptied her stomach. With her back to him, she asked again, “What if you hadn’t come?”

“I did come.” He put a hand on her back. “I did come. And you’re safe. I told you I would make this right. I meant it and now you are. You’re safe, Em.” His voice was so smooth, so soothing. He turned her toward him. Then with his thumb, he wiped a tear from her face. “You’re safe. It’s not your fault.” Over and over he reassured her. “You’re safe. You’re free now, free of Alroy and of George. You’re safe and you’re free.”

He put a hand on her elbow and led her back to Amos. “It’s getting late. We have to ride so we can get back to town.”

She stood motionless. Afraid to look at Alroy. Caleb pulled a carrot from his saddlebags and handed it to her. “Feed Amos this while you wait for me.” Em obeyed, grateful for the distraction.

Caleb lifted Alroy and slung him across the back of the lifeless man’s horse. Then he tied the horse to Amos.

“Look ahead while we ride and don’t think about what’s behind you. Let me help you up.” He reached for her but stopped. “Your wrists are bleeding.”

Em looked down to see much more blood than she’d realized. But she was too numb to feel any pain. “I’ll be fine for the ride. I can clean up at the Howells’. So can you.”

“Me?”

“Your nose. I think it may be broken.” He wiped his hand across his face and it came away painted in blood. Then he looked at his shirt. Brilliant red covered his left side. Even Em’s dress carried the color from being so close to him.

She remembered the knife wound. “He cut you with his knife. Is it deep?”

“It’s not bad. Only my side, and it’s little more than a scrape. I’ll clean it in town.”

Em reached out and touched his side where the wound was. She tore the fabric away and inspected the gash. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m sorry you ended up with this mess. I never meant for any of this . . .”

Pulling her against him again, he held her. “Don’t be sorry. I haven’t been for a single minute. I’ve been afraid, but I’ve not been sorry.”

“But you’re hurt. If I had been taken to some other town, none of this ever would have happened to you.”

“I’ll heal just fine. I’m a better man because you showed up in Azure Springs.” He put a dirty hand to her chin and looked into her eyes. “Don’t you be wishing things had happened any other way. You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Come now, let’s ride.”

When the pair were safely in the saddle on good old Amos, Caleb put a protective arm around Em’s waist. His touch reassured her, quite the opposite of what she’d felt from Alroy’s touch. She leaned her head back against the prince’s chest and allowed herself to feel safe. They rode back toward Azure Springs just as the sun was bidding farewell, declaring the end of the fateful day with exclamations of red and orange.