Rugged and Relentless (19 page)

“No.” Evie caught Lacey’s eye and shook her head. “The three of you go on ahead back to the house. I’ll have the doctor walk me back … after I have a word with your brother.”

Lacey considered for a moment—probably torn between wanting to shake sense into her brother on her own and wanting to protect him from Evie’s wrath—before giving a short nod. Not one of them argued as she and Naomi steered a tearful Cora toward the dusty house they’d yet to fully explore.

Evie watched their progress, all too aware of the men currently rushing back and forth between the café and mercantile, hauling supplies.

Breakfast went well—partly because they hadn’t joined the men for the meal and partly because last night’s rules remained fresh in everyone’s memory. Today marked the first time their
workforce would earn their keep.

Evie only hoped they were worth the staggering order for eggs, meat, vegetables, and cooking supplies she’d placed with Mr. Draxley. The nervous man balked when she requested dairy cows, but she’d prevailed in the end.

They simply couldn’t purchase ready-made butter, cream, buttermilk, and bottled milk to be transported daily on the train, and Evie needed the milk and cream for cooking and baking. Besides, they had plenty of sheds that could be emptied to house some livestock. It would prove a sound investment.

As would the “conversation” she intended to have with Braden Lyman. Evie’s eyes narrowed as she watched the other three women disappear into the house—too far away to interfere. She didn’t bother to hide her ire as she practically stomped into his room. He’d made Cora cry; now he’d face the consequences.

“I said, ‘Go away.’” Braden’s words lashed out but missed their target. He didn’t open his eyes to see who arrived, only lay beneath the covers, gritting his teeth even after he spoke. The muscles in his jaw worked hard enough to show even beneath the unfamiliar beard now covering the lower half of his face.

“What kind of man can’t look a woman in the face when he tells her to leave?” Evie shooed away the doctor, who’d cracked open his study door a bit, and waited for him to close it before advancing into Braden’s room. This conversation needed no other participants. Just her, Braden, and his missing conscience.

“Evie.” His eyes snapped open, his scowl mirroring the fierce rage she held trapped inside. But not for long.

“You remember me, then. Good.” She took two long steps to reach the foot of his bed. “Now you can start remembering yourself, your manners, your promises, your responsibilities—”

“What of your responsibilities, Evelyn Thompson?” His roar cut her off mid-recitation. Well, not quite. She’d hardly
begun
, which made his interruption both rude and poorly timed.

“I’m taking care of them.”
Don’t ask me how
. Evie knew Lacey
hadn’t discussed the sawmill scheme with her brother yet.

“You’re supposed to look after Cora!” The words exploded from him with enough force to send Evie back a step. “What were you thinking, dragging her to this forsaken place with no one to protect her? I trusted you to keep her safe!”

Oh, Lord … he’s right. We’ve bitten off far more than we can chew. Worst of all, now Braden tells Cora he doesn’t love her. I can’t raise a fallen soufflé, and I can’t mend a broken heart, Jesus. … Please help
.

Fury faded into apprehension—the far more unsettling emotion. Anger had a way of bracing one, powering a person through a storm of troubles with righteous zeal. Unease crept more quietly, filling small spaces between solid plans with doubt and worry.

I’ve ignored too many possibilities—that Braden might truly not want Cora as a fiancée, that men might respond in person, even Draxley’s incompetence. We can’t afford not to consider such things or overlook the obvious signals
.

Still, some things held true no matter the circumstance. “No.” Evie drew a deep breath. “We relied on each other to look after Cora. You trusted me to bring her to you safe and sound; I trusted you to keep her that way once we arrived. I kept my part of the deal, Braden Lyman, and you know it. You know it the same way you know you’ve broken both your unspoken promise to me and your spoken words to my sister. Your fiancée.”

“Not my fiancée!” His head thrashed side to side in vehement denial. “Not mine anymore. You have to take Cora home, Evie.”

And suddenly she knew. Evie looked at Braden Lyman’s face, eyes wild with a sort of desperation she’d never seen, and felt it as sure as she’d ever known anything. Plain and simple—“You still love her.” Her words made him freeze, almost as though the very act of drawing a breath would confirm them.

“I don’t want her.” When he finally spoke, Evie watched closely, carefully … and noticed what she’d overlooked before.

God, grant him the strength to lean on You in his suffering. I can’t
imagine what it’s like to be so trapped. And I have to confront him with the truth, for Cora’s sake
.

“Here. You don’t want her”—Evie took one step with each word, stopping just beside him, where his head rested on the pillow, watching her finish the sentence properly—“here.”

His breath hissed in as though she’d hit him. “No.”

“Yes.” Evie made a broad gesture to include the expanse of the bed. “And this is the reason. I didn’t notice at first, but now that it occurs to me, I can’t believe I missed it. I’m so sorry, Braden. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be paralyzed, but Cora will learn of it whether you send her away or not.”

“I’m not paralyzed.”

He’d been silent so long and muttered the words so low, Evie almost asked him to repeat them. Then decided that would be foolish. “You used to use your arms and hands when you spoke, Braden. Now, no movement at all.”

“Straps.”

“I beg your pardon?” Evie refused to blush, but the direction of the conversation headed toward the indiscreet.

“With both legs broken, the doctor decided casts weren’t enough, so he strapped them down.” Braden’s words came out curt, as if forced from his chest. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I dislocated my shoulder, though that went back in place well.”

“But …” No matter she regretted beginning this conversation, Evie couldn’t let the matter drop. “Your arms as well?”

The doctor appeared in the doorway. “So he won’t fall while he sleeps and do further damage. There’s some concern over the position of his spine. The arm bands are a necessary measure, as otherwise Mr. Lyman always removes the lower constraints.”

“He’s not a child.” Evie rounded on the man. “After being trapped in a cave-in, the last thing anyone needs is to feel trapped by anything else! It’s simple common sense.”

“Initially we tried rails around the bed, but that was the reason he gave for tearing them off,” the doctor spluttered.

“I won’t live in a lidless coffin.” Braden all but snarled at the man, winning Evie’s admiration.
She
would have snarled.

“Surely now his shoulder’s healed sufficiently to remove any …” Evie searched for a delicate way to phrase the request and came up with a serviceable “
Upper
restraints, at least?”

“Mr. Lyman has proven he will undo the others, once able. I can’t jeopardize the welfare of my patient to suit his whims.”

“With all the
visitors
Mr. Lyman can
expect
now”—Evie emphasized the words so he’d know good and well she included Cora in those visitors—“I’m sure he’ll find the strength to leave well enough alone in exchange for the use of his arms.”

They locked gazes in a silent battle for what seemed like hours, but most likely lasted mere seconds.

Finally, Braden gave a short nod—tacit agreement to leave the lower restraints alone. Evie bore no illusions he’d agreed to their continued presence in Hope Falls, nor did she envy Lacey. His sister was welcome to the task of explaining the grand plan they’d already put in motion—without Braden’s permission.

“Cora need never know,” was the only promise she made as she left. Evie knew Braden would continue to act beastly in an attempt to run Cora out of town … for her own good. She also knew her own stubborn sister better than to believe he’d succeed. Either way, now that she knew Braden still loved her sister, she’d leave what lay between them just that way. Between them.

If I convince Cora to go home, she’ll always pine for the Braden she lost and wonder if she could have nursed him back. If I drag her to Charleston, she’ll hate me and run back to Hope Falls the moment my back is turned. Either way, I’d be going back on my promise to Lacey and Naomi, who are relying on me
.

The weight of it all pressed into a lump at the back of her throat.
Braden Lyman isn’t the only one trapped in Hope Falls
.

Jake caught her coming out of the doctor’s office—which took a
fair bit of planning, absolute use of the authority he’d stepped into the night before, and above all, a good sense of timing.

He’d kept an eye on all four of the women the entire morning, but especially Miss Thompson. The sassy chef flaunted an independent streak that showed why she shouldn’t be left alone.

After a breakfast of sweet buns and bacon to leave any man too contented and agreeable for his own good, the women began making requests. Jake admired their strategy. He even admired the requests. Adding a large storeroom onto the café seemed the order of the day—requiring the men to knock out a door in the only wall not already graced by one to the dining room or outdoors or taken up by the stoves. It also meant utilizing supplies from the mercantile and making the men work together in town, where the women could see if anyone wandered off or caused trouble.

From where Jake stood, it looked like a brilliant piece of planning. Not only did it ensure the women could keep the town stocked and the men fed; it made sure they knew it. A man liked knowing his stomach rated as a high priority.

But as soon as they’d cleaned up after breakfast, the women headed to the doctor’s office. Where three waited outside. Only the younger Miss Thompson—the engaged one—went in with a tray of breakfast.

Jake measured off the dimensions of the storeroom, outside. He kept tabs on the situation with the ladies, letting the Gent measure and direct the cutting of the doorway, while Bear directed men in the mercantile, digging out tools, nails, lumber, rope, and other sundries. Clump kept busy emptying the kitchen of anything that might get in the way.

Which meant Jake—and maybe a few of the more shrewd suitors—was the only one to see the fiancée fly out of the doctor’s to cry all over the other women in a fine show of feminine hysterics. He got the others working on minor details when he caught some showing too much interest in the spectacle a few buildings over. Jake didn’t want them noticing only three women
walked back to the house they shared. One stayed behind.

Alone.

Foolish, headstrong woman
. Jake bit his tongue and mentally reeled in more colorful concerns for what could happen if one of the rougher fellows caught Miss Thompson wandering on her own. Anyone with the ability to add one to one and come up with two could see the younger sister’s distress ruffled the mother hen’s feathers. She’d marched right in to cluck at the offender, and she’d find herself in a stew if no one looked after her.

Jake proposed a door on the outer wall of the storeroom, facing the train station, for easier transport. A blithe announcement that he’d get the women’s agreement and make sure nothing else needed to be cleared from the path gave him the pretext to hover close to the doctor’s office. He managed to walk around the corner just in time to surprise Miss Evelyn Thompson as she exited the doctor’s. Alone again, with not even the sense to have the doctor escort her to the house where she’d join the other women.

“Miss Thompson.” He offered her his arm before she could recover from the way his sudden appearance startled her. As he expected, she automatically accepted it, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow almost before registering the action. “Allow me to escort you to the house? I’d hoped for a word.”

“Presumptuous?” She muttered the riposte on a breath so low Jake knew she didn’t intend for him to hear her.

Laughter shook him as he contained his mirth to paltry chuckles. If he let loose, the other men would head over. “Not the word I had in mind, Miss Thompson.” Jake grinned anew over her blush when she realized she’d been caught.

“I should not have said that,” she admitted, a rueful smile tilting her lips. For once, her dimple didn’t peek out.

“But you don’t apologize for thinking it.” Jake waited for her to deny it or tack on a hasty addition to her apology.

“Absolutely not. My thoughts are my own, and I won’t apologize for their existence.” Her dimple sprang into view as she
flouted his expectations. “I only regret their escape.”

“You surprise me, Miss Thompson.” Already shortening his stride to match hers, Jake slowed his pace still more.

“In what way, Mr. Creed?” Her use of the name struck him. After her refreshing honesty, it rang more false than before.

“Few show such candor.” Jake debated his next move, reluctant to prove her right, then added, “Or such foolishness.”