Lori Connelly - The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge

It’s been so long.

Her hands twisted in the fabric of her cloak. Evie looked out to the shadowed lengths of forest. A gentle breeze toyed with loose strands of her hair. The peaceful late afternoon was driving her crazy.

Her angst deepened with each moment that passed. A pair of coyotes emerged from the trees to her left, capturing her attention and interest. Frozen, poised to run, they watched her. All at once, she heard the rumble of wheels rolling over the earth. Startled, Evie blinked and the animals melted away.

Her gaze swept to the road, scared and hopeful. She hardly dared to breathe. Minutes crawled by. At last, a team of mules lumbered into view, an old farm wagon pulled behind them. Wheels tossed up a light cloud of dust as the sheriff rode around from behind the wagon, straight up to her.

“Did you find him?”

“Yes ma’am.” He dismounted to stand in front of her.

An arrow of fear shot through her heart at something in his tone. “Is he … is he … ?” She couldn’t get the question out past numb lips.

“He’s hurt pretty bad. I sent a man for the doctor.”

His somber expression spoke volumes. Tension twisted her gut. Fear rose up, stealing her speech. Evie could only nod she understood as the wagon pulled up near them. The driver climbed down. He and Sheriff Green walked her to the back.

Evie leaned against the rough wood frame as the men lowered the tailgate. She drew in a long deep breath for courage then looked in at Ben, bloodied and beaten. His face was almost unrecognizable. Tears almost blinded her. Twice, her mouth opened and shut without uttering a sound.

How much can a man lose without dying?

All sound faded to the edge of her awareness. Evie stretched forward to hold a hand above his mouth. Breath feathered her palm and a fraction of her apprehension eased. Her gaze unfocused, she straightened.

“If you’ll step back ma’am, we’ll bring him inside.”

For a second Evie stared at the sheriff uncomprehending then his words filtered through. She moved. “Thank you.”

Adrenalin pumped through her veins. Evie darted into the cabin, ripping quilts off the bed as the men entered. They laid Ben down on his back on the mattress. She thrust a pail at the Talbert hand, John, and asked him to fetch some water from the creek. With hands that shook, she lit the lamp. She set it on the dresser and looked down at her husband.

Ashen skin made a stark contrast with blackened eyes. His nose was easily twice its normal size and new smudges marked his jaw, chin and left cheek. Evie reached down, touched his arm and whispered his name. He didn’t respond.

A single tear ran unheeded down her face as she started to tend her husband. Evie pulled off his worn boots. The sheriff helped her strip off his pants. The long, muscular legs sported a few bruises on his thighs but otherwise seemed unharmed. She moved on to his once green flannel shirt.

Stained with dirt and wet with blood, the fabric clung to his shoulder. She gently peeled it away and uncovered more than a battered body, discovering the source of the blood. Heart in her throat she stared at the ugly wound. Her fingers, one by one, loosened the flannel. The ruined shirt fell to the floor. Death was a real possibility.

“Ben?” Evie touched his uninjured shoulder, soft. He reacted with a low moan. She tried again in a more forceful tone. “Please, Ben, wake up. Open your eyes.”

His eyelids fluttered a few seconds then stilled. Evie picked up a blanket and covered him to the waist. She dug out some towels, scissors and an old sheet then tossed most of the supplies onto the table, impatient. Fear raced along her nerves as she returned to sit on the edge of the bed. She put a folded towel over the weeping hole in his shoulder.

“He was attacked?”

“Yes ma’am.”

John returned and set the pail on the floor beside her. Evie got up, filling a pot with water to heat. While the men built a fire, she cut a few long strips from faded cotton, her usually nimble fingers clumsy.

“Who?”

“Ma’am?”

“Who did it?” With a handful of just made bandages, some washcloths and a bowl, Evie returned to her husband’s side.

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze drifted over Ben. The rise and fall of his chest offered small comfort. Evie reached over, brushed back matted hair and found a good-sized lump near his right temple. Tears stung her eyes. She half filled the bowl with water and started to wash the blood off his face.

Anger snapped along strained nerves. Evie shot a glance over at the sheriff. “What do you know?”

“Your husband is a lucky man.”

“Lucky?” Her gaze became a glare.

“One of your neighbors saw his mare, riderless, if he hadn’t I doubt we’d have found Ben in time.”

“Neighbor? Mr. Talbert?”

He shook his head. “Thomas Sullivan.”

“Was he the one who hurt Ben?”

“No ma’am.” Sheriff Green straightened from his crouched position. He hung the pot she’d filled over flames that danced along sticks.

“But he knew where Ben was?”

“Tom showed us where he’d seen the horse.”

“Had seen? He didn’t go after her?”

“Well, ma’am, I’m afraid Tom spotted her at some distance and didn’t feel inclined to investigate.”

The shame burnt her cheeks. “He didn’t care about a loose, saddled horse because he recognized Sugar.”

“He knew it was your husband’s mount.” Sheriff Green cleared his throat. “Anyway, Ben was near there, at the bottom of a small ravine.”

“How did you know to look there?”

“Just like chasing down a wounded animal, we followed the blood trail.”

Evie turned to stare at John with wide eyes, horrified at the images those words invoked. “You what?”

“I think you’ve helped enough, go on home now.”

John had the grace to mumble an apology as she watched him take his leave. A hand touched her upper arm. “You all right?”

Startled, Evie looked up at the sheriff. “I’m fine.”

“You look-”

“Tired? Scared out of my mind?” Although she attempted to sound calm and in control, her voice emerged thin and strained. “I’ll survive.” Evie got up, walked outside, and tossed the fouled water out of her bowl. “When will the doctor get here?”

“Soon I’m sure.”

All of a sudden, Ben groaned. Evie spun at the sound and hurried to her husband’s side. His eyes open, he stared up at her. Pain etched deep lines on his face.

Her fingers lightly touched his. “Ben.”

His lips moved in a sad attempt at a smile. “Hey. Pretty. Lady.” He drew in a breath between each word as his gaze swept the room. “Where am I?”

“You’re home.”

Ben looked up at her. His eyebrows drew together. “Home?”

“Yes.”

“I…” His eyelids fell shut. “Don’t … ”

“Ben? Ben?”

Only silence answered. Evie stared down at her husband for a moment longer. He didn’t move or make a sound. Her shoulders drooped. Concern knotted her stomach as she moved over to the fireplace and filled her bowl from the kettle.

Without a word, she strode back to Ben’s side. Evie lifted the blood soaked towel from his shoulder then dropped it on the floor. Nerves stretched taut, she dipped a fresh cloth in the hot water and started to clean around the wound.

“Mrs. Rolfe.” The sheriff paused. Evie glanced up. The tall man pulled up a chair near her, sat down. With a cautious expression and a gentle, careful tone, he asked, “Do you know who’d want to hurt your husband?”

Evie looked back down at Ben. Her eyes burned but she refused to cry. She scrubbed off the last bits of dried blood and dirt. “Ah … ” Her task finished, she laid a fresh towel over torn flesh. “Other than Mr. Talbert, I … ”