Be Still My Heart
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“What do you think you’re doing?” Sam demanded. “You’ve got a knife in your hand, and I have it stuck in my back.”
Sam had to shout loud enough for her to hear him over the wind whipping by. He tried pulling away but was too weak and numb to move. The knife blade was pressed flush against his jugular vein. If he didn’t get this thing out of his neck soon, he might bleed to death before the sheriff came looking for him.
The woman continued to stare at him as if she couldn’t figure out what he meant. Her brown eyes were wide with disbelief and confusion. She’d obviously never heard of a knife stuck between two people’s ribs or that there could be blood oozing from such an injury.
It made Sam wonder how long she’d been living on the ranch—how long it would take for her to know about guns and knives, about how dangerous the world really was. Probably not very long, which worried Sam more than anything else. How long could one person survive without knowing what they were dealing with?
He felt so helpless lying here while the woman stood above him. But he had to try to convince her to help him. There was no telling how far away the other men who rode with her would come once they found out about this little escapade.
Not to mention how quickly they’d find him when the sun went down. They wouldn’t stop looking until they’d either caught up with him or killed him. So Sam had to hope she could help him now or he just might end up dead before morning.
Her expression softened when Sam yelled at her. A soft smile curled her lips as she lowered her weapon. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “My heart started pounding right after I shot him.”
“How did you get that knife in your gun?” Sam asked, trying to sit up.
She hesitated. Then she said, “That’s my secret.”
“Don’t keep it too much longer,” he muttered as he forced himself into a sitting position.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, making him feel even more foolish. She hadn’t believed him anyway. What difference did it make anymore? He wasn’t going to get out of this alive. And if she thought he was crazy, then fine. He was probably nuts to be asking for her help, too.
Sam glanced up at the sun that peeked over the horizon, and then he looked back at the woman. She was staring at the man he’d shot. He wondered whether it hurt him or not. He knew Sam had done the right thing by killing him—that there was nothing worse than the threat of another person carrying a gun around.
But he still felt guilty for taking someone’s life and leaving a young girl in charge of so many people’s lives.
“You’re a brave woman to come back to the house by yourself,” Sam told her. “Now let me see to your wound. I’ll need to take your hat off.”
Her hand shook as she pulled off her hat. Her dark hair cascaded to her shoulders. It took all Sam’s concentration not to look at those pretty, perfect features as she leaned closer to examine his neck.
Instead, he focused on pulling the loose ends of his shirt closed under her chin and holding pressure against the wound. When he finally released his grip, Sam noticed the blood soaking through the material of the shirt.
“We need to put something on it,” he warned her. “And then we’ll need to clean it.”
She stared at him again, and he knew she was thinking about what would happen if her gun was discovered later that day. It was best not to tell her she needed stitches—that the bullet might go deeper, cutting through muscle and bone.
She’d already made up her mind about the whole situation—that she wasn’t helping him. Why ruin her day by telling her he might die of infection because she didn’t believe him about getting stabbed? It might even scare her enough that she wouldn’t want to work for the ranchers anymore. Sam hoped so. He had to give her some reason to help him.
The woman pulled her sleeve down and slipped her fingers underneath his head. “Hold still, Mister,” she urged. “Or you can lie on your stomach if you don’t like my hands on top of yours. I don’t bite.”
Her words brought Sam back to reality. He grabbed her hand with both of his, stopping her from removing any more blood from his neck. With only one good hand, it was difficult but not impossible for him to do most things.
He simply used different muscles to accomplish different tasks. In this case, he used his teeth and tongue to close up the wound as he felt the knife blade slowly pull free.
His hand brushed against her wrist, and Sam realized how delicate they were, so small compared to a man’s. He remembered being shocked at how large the men were in the saloon last night, and yet how tiny this woman appeared.
The men had been tall and big-boned, too, like their horses. But the women had seemed smaller, prettier. Like these two ranch girls who’d ridden along with him today.
He wondered where they’d gone, whether they knew the man with them was dead. Was the younger one crying? How could they stand watching him bleed? And why couldn’t they bring themselves to come to his aid?
They’d seen him fighting for his life. If they’d helped him kill the man threatening him, then maybe it would have ended differently. Or was there something else going on? Did the older woman feel guilty for allowing the other woman to shoot Sam? Had her mother forced her to ride alongside him and act as his guard? No. This had to be a normal situation for her.
But why did the younger woman seem so cold and distant toward Sam? Perhaps she was just worried about her friend’s safety. But it was strange that the woman never turned to look at him once during their journey. As far as she seemed concerned, Sam wasn’t here.
“Can you get dressed now?” Sam asked the woman.
After taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves, she said, “No,” in an exasperated tone. “I’m waiting for my boss.”
“Boss? Is that what he calls himself?” Sam chuckled as he tried to sit up again.
“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding like ice as if she hated talking about the man behind the bar.
As soon as he was settled, the door opened. A man came out wearing black leather pants and a sleeveless western shirt that exposed his arms and chest to the sun. His boots were covered in dust and mud. A bandana tied around his forehead kept the sweat away from his eyes.
When he saw Sam, he stopped. He stared at the blood on Sam’s face, and then his gaze moved to the blood covering the woman’s sleeve.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
Sam smiled at the rancher. “It was just a little cut. Nothing serious. My horse stumbled on a rock, and my hand went into its hoof—”
The man didn’t respond but stared at him as though he suspected Sam of lying about everything. Finally, he turned and walked to his horse and swung onto the saddle without bothering to tie the reins to the animal or even mount it. Then he spurred the horse and rode off, leaving Sam alone with the woman in his wagon.
“My name is Grace,” she told him. “That’s my sister Beth. We’re working for the ranchers. That man, Mister,” she pointed at his corpse, “is our father’s business partner. He lives nearby.”
Sam nodded. He wasn’t surprised that he’d heard the term “business partner,” since that’s what most people called it nowadays. Business partners, partners in crime, associates…it was all the same to a killer. And he’d met a few before.
“What happened?” Beth asked. She looked at Sam with wide eyes filled with concern.
“Didn’t you hear the shots? Didn’t you see anything?” Sam asked. “I was riding by myself.”
“No.” Her sister shook her head. “We heard them from inside the house.”
“You should have come out with us,” Grace said. “If you hadn’t gotten hurt, maybe it wouldn’t have escalated like this.”
She was trying to protect him, Sam realized. But she couldn’t know what he was capable of.
“I was lucky,” Sam told her, hoping to convince her that he wasn’t a threat to anyone.
Beth’s expression softened as she reached for him. “It’s all right now,” she assured him. “We’ll get you home.”
***
“How much further?” Grace asked, looking up at the sun. It was nearly noon, which meant the trip had taken longer than expected.
They’d left the ranch at dawn, intending to return to town before dark. By the time they got here, it would be night already, and they still had several hours’ worth of riding ahead of them. The two women weren’t accustomed to horseback riding. Sam had hoped the two girls wouldn’t mind riding along with him to the ranch house.
Grace was obviously exhausted after their long trip and her short stay in the infirmary. After seeing her wounds, he thought it best not to tell the ranchers about his other activities while in town, although it would be awkward explaining how he’d been hurt.
He wondered if he could leave them alone at the house and slip into town unnoticed. If it became necessary for him to hide for a while, he’d have no choice but to leave. It would take more than one day to clean up his mess—if he ever found that he had made one.
Beth glanced nervously from the road to Sam and back again. They rode in silence for a while, and Sam was grateful for her silence; the older woman seemed to understand his need to be alone, at least for now.
Finally, Sam spoke up. “Is there another way out besides the main trail?” he asked, pointing to where a small dirt track veered off from the roadway. It ran straight toward the distant mountains, disappearing into the distance. “Could we drive down that track until we reach a smaller settlement?”
“Why are you asking us?” Beth demanded. “Shouldn’t you ask your friend, Sam?”
Sam frowned at her. “Your friend?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “You mentioned a name last night when you were drinking.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Mister…”
“That’s what he called himself. ‘Sam’ is his name,” Grace explained.
“But I’ve never heard of a Mister.”
Both women laughed at his surprise. “I don’t think he has either,” Grace said.
Beth continued. “You know, Sam, it sounds like you have quite an interesting life.” She paused and smiled at him. “At least your life is different from ours.”
Sam wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. His life wasn’t so strange to him anymore, nor was his death. He tried not to dwell on it. He was a hired killer. A man who killed for money. There was nothing unusual about that. He had done it for years before meeting the girls.
The truth was that Sam didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was getting back to his wife, to his baby boy. He knew he’d lost the chance forever, but he was still willing to die in order to make sure that she never saw his face again.
There was a time when he’d dreamed of returning home and being welcomed by his family. Back then, he’d believed that he was innocent of all the accusations leveled against him. Now he knew that it was all true, that he was no better than the worst men in society.
But he’d learned to live with the shame and guilt that accompanied the job. He’d made peace with that. What he couldn’t accept was that he might have to kill someone else’s child.
“It’s almost there,” Grace told him. “Just follow us.”
A short time later, the trail came to an abrupt end at the base of a steep incline. The land on either side dropped away sharply. It was a sheer cliff wall, rising above them as far as the eye could see. The mountain range loomed over the valley below. From their position at its base, they could only look up at it or stare across at it, wondering what lay at the very top of these craggy peaks.
“What happened here?” Grace asked, glancing around.
“When the Indians moved westward, some of them stayed behind here. They lived in caves and dugouts until the government came and cleared the land for settlement,” Beth explained. She turned to Sam. “We should hurry and get down there before it gets too late.”
Sam looked back at Grace, who nodded at him. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “If you want me to help you escape,” she added hopefully, “you might want to go back and wait for your family in town.”
He glanced back at her. “I appreciate your offer,” he said softly, “but you’ll have to come with us.”
For a moment Grace looked unsure whether to trust him, but finally, she nodded. She nudged her horse forward to take the lead on the trail leading to the bottom of the cliff.
***
After they left Beth and Grace in town, Sam went back inside the house to fetch his gun and knife before joining Beth on the porch.
His wife wore a simple linen dress, which was stained, torn, and smudged with dust from days of travel. Her hair, pulled back in a tight bun, stuck out at odd angles from the sweat that clung to her forehead and cheeks. She appeared exhausted. But when she met his gaze, she gave him a smile.
“You’re back.”
“Almost,” Sam replied, and he held out his hand to show her his guns.
“Thank God.”
She took the weapons from him and laid them beside her on the wooden floorboards. “Now, will you please let me explain everything?”
He didn’t reply immediately. He stood staring at the dirt road that led into town while the horses rested beneath the shade of the wagon. The sun was sinking lower behind the mountains now, painting the sky orange. It seemed like the day would soon be gone, along with all hope for freedom.
“Tell me, then,” she urged. “Please.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m tired. Too many miles.” He sat on the edge of the porch, resting his elbows on his knees. Then he picked up his glass and drank some whiskey. His eyes closed, but he didn’t sleep. Instead, he stared into the dark depths of the amber liquid in his cup.
Finally, he set the cup back down on the railing and looked at her. “Why do you care about me?” he asked quietly. “Why did you even come after me? You could have run off with one of those other cowgirls. You wouldn’t be the first wife to leave her husband for another man. Why me?”
Beth stared back at him, looking as if she might cry. “Because I know you’re not the monster everyone says you are.”
“I am the monster!” he shouted suddenly, surprising himself. For years, he’d been alone. Always fighting. Always protecting the ones he loved—and killing others. “How many times must you prove yourself innocent before people believe you?”
Beth stepped toward him, but he put a finger to her lips. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t tell them any more lies. Don’t try to make them understand. This is how it has to be.”
“I can’t just forget what’s happened between us. I won’t.”
The pain in her voice tore through him. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to wipe them away.
“This isn’t working anymore,” he told her softly. “I need to go back and face the consequences.”
She looked up at him sadly, her mouth set in a firm line. “They’ve got your guns—”
“And my knives.” He pointed at his belt where the three blades hung in their leather sheaths. “I’ll use them against them. Not you.”
“But—”
“Go on. Get back in the house and wait for your family to return.”
She swallowed hard and wiped at the tears forming in her eyes with the back of a hand. “What will happen to you?” she asked him quietly. “Will they kill you?”
“There’s no question. They’ll hang me.” Sam lifted his glass again, taking a long pull of whiskey. He set it back down slowly. “Just get your family down there before sunset, so they can see I’m dead,” he said.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, reaching for him, but he brushed her hands aside. “I won’t let you leave without telling me goodbye.”
He shook his head. “It’s over between us.”
Her gaze searched his face for a hint of remorse or guilt, but instead, she saw only a stubborn determination. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Come inside and eat something. We’ll talk.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He turned to look away, wanting to end this conversation, but her touch had an effect on him that he couldn’t fight. He felt her fingers slide up his sleeve, her nails digging into his skin, and he leaned back against her for support. “We’ll talk after supper,” he promised.
“Please.” Beth squeezed his forearm, and he glanced back at her briefly before turning away again and climbing onto the seat beside her.
After eating and saying goodnight to her mother and father, Beth waited for him outside. The wind carried faint rumblings of thunder toward them. The sky darkened, but the clouds were thin enough to allow a little light through, casting the night sky with its many stars.
There was something peaceful about the starlit evening, almost as if Mother Nature was offering him a chance to change things, a chance to escape his fate. He looked up at the heavens, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner. Maybe it wasn’t too late yet to turn around, but the next time he faced his pursuers, it would be different.
A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the ranch house and mounted the horses, pulling gently on the reins to urge the animals on. He kept glancing behind him at the house, waiting for her to follow him, but she just watched him silently.
Her eyes followed the two horses until they disappeared beyond the hill on which the ranch was built. Then she sighed and climbed down from the wagon and went back into the house.
She didn’t expect him to stay with her tonight—and maybe it was better this way. If he wanted to avoid her forever, then she didn’t want him near her. She knew she would never stop loving him, and now she had proof of just how dangerous that love could be.
The End