Chapter Twelve

Whit sat on the bed next to Esther as she tended to his wounds, her delicate fingers grazing his skin ever so lightly. He found himself transfixed by the wisps of hair falling across her face as she leaned in close, the faint floral scent of her soap mingling with the harsh scent of whatever she was dabbing on his skin.

As she turned the bottle upside down to wet the cloth, he resisted the urge to reach up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers twitching with the desire to touch her.

Whit studied her face as she worked, struck by the graceful curve of her neck. He noticed the sprinkling of faint freckles across her nose and the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly as she concentrated.

"Ouch!" He winced as Esther gently pressed the cloth against his wounds. The liquid stung like a thousand tiny needles, and he couldn't help but grab her hand to stop her from touching him again. "What is that stuff?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Esther peered at him with concern, her hazel eyes studying the cuts, bruises, and burns marring his skin. "It's something Doc read about in a medical journal. It's called antiseptic, and it's supposed to prevent infection."

"I think it stinks and hurts," he griped.

She gave a light laugh. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hartman, I'll be more careful," she said in a teasing tone. She couldn't resist adding, "To be fair, you haven't had a proper bath since... spring?"

Whit cracked a reluctant smile at her jab. "Hard to find time for a bath when you're busy running from trouble." His eyes flickered to hers, a mix of gratitude and something else simmering in their blue depths. "I reckon I owe you my life, sweetheart."

"It was Marshal Briggs and Bass Pickett who found you." She folded the cloth to a clean section and lifted the bottle again. "I don't know how we would have gotten help without Sarah's pigeons."

"Pigeons? The ones in her barn?"

Esther nodded as she wet the cloth again. "Sarah tied a message to the pigeon's leg and released it, hoping it would find Briggs. Early in the evening, he arrived at her doorstep with you on the back of his horse."

"How did I get here, then?"

She hesitated for a moment before dabbing the cloth against his hand. "She brought you while Briggs went to the Chapmans." Once she was done, she blew softly on his skin.

Whit held his breath as her warm breath brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Despite the stinging sensation of the antiseptic, Whit relaxed under Esther's tender touch. She released his hand and wet the cloth again, working her way up his arm toward his shoulder.

Reaching up with his other hand, Whit gently traced the line of Esther's cheekbone.

"Thank you," he said gruffly, grateful for more than just her help with his injuries. He saw her breath hitch in her throat as his calloused fingers grazed her cheek.

"You're welcome," she mumbled, lowering her gaze, unable to meet his piercing blue eyes.

"Esther..." Whit murmured her name like a prayer, tilting her chin up to look at him again. "Sweetheart."

Just before their lips met, Whit paused, his eyes searching hers for any sign of reluctance. Esther gave the barest of nods, and he closed the distance between them.

For a moment, she let herself melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his lips on hers. Almost as quickly, he felt her panic, and she broke off the kiss, pulling back abruptly.

Whit searched her face, brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Whit, I... we shouldn't." Esther lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze as she capped the bottle and started gathering up the supplies. She moved to stand, but he put his hand on her wrist.

"Talk to me."

"I don't know what to say. You're awake now, and soon you'll make a complete recovery. I'll go back home, and then that will be the end."

"Esther, it won't be like that. I promise."

"It will, Whit. You did what you needed to protect me and do your job. It's over now. You don't have to do it anymore."

"Then why are you still here?"

Esther's words hung heavily in the air between them, her gaze fixed on the worn floorboards beneath her feet. Whit's heart clenched in his chest as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. After everything they'd been through, after the tender moments they'd shared, how could she think his feelings for her were simply a matter of duty?

"Esther, look at me," he pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. When she reluctantly raised her eyes to meet his, Whit saw the conflict swirling in their hazel depths. "What we have...it's real. It's not just because of what happened."

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Whit, you're a good man. We both knew this wouldn't last. You'll finish healing, and I'll marry the man my father selects. It will be best for both of us."

"Is it because of the way I look now?"

Esther's face paled and her eyes widened in horror, her mouth falling open in disbelief. "Whit, no! Absolutely not." Her voice trembled with emotion. "Your scars could never change how I feel about you. They're a testament to your bravery, your strength, and how you protected me." She reached out and gently cupped his face, avoiding the burned skin. Her thumb brushed the rough stubble on his jaw. "It's not about your wounds at all."

"Then what is it?" Whit pressed, his blue eyes searching hers intently. "Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you're running away from something real between us."

"I'm not who you think I am."

"I know exactly who you are." He turned his head slightly to press a kiss on her palm. "You're the woman I fell in love with and the one I plan on marrying. Look at me, Esther, and tell me you don't love me."

"I..." She pulled her hand back and stood up straight. "I can't love you, Whit."

"Can't and don't aren't the same thing, darlin'."

A single tear slipped down Esther's cheek as she looked at him. He tightly balled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach for her, to beg her not to go.

"They are to me. Doc will be by tomorrow morning, and I'll be going back to town with him." She headed to the door. "I'll be back later to dress your wounds again."

"Annamae can do it."

Whit turned his back to her, his shoulders stiff. He couldn't bear the thought of her seeing the pain etched on his face, or the tears gathering in his eyes. His heart felt like it was being torn apart, and it was something he wouldn't let her see.

He heard the door softly shut, followed by the sound of her footsteps against the hardwood floor, growing more distant until silence swallowed them. He clenched his fists and punched down his pillow, feeling the sting of his wounds reopening. The physical discomfort was insignificant compared to the overwhelming emotions of being abandoned once more by a person he cherished.

Whit lay there for what seemed like hours, his mind reeling from Esther's rejection. The pain in his heart outweighed any of his physical injuries. He couldn't fathom why she was pushing him away, not after everything they'd been through together.

A soft knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. For a fleeting moment, he hoped it was Esther returning to tell him she'd made a mistake. It was another pang of disappointment as he heard his sister's voice come through the door.

"May I come in?" Annamae called.

"Go away," he mumbled. He lifted his head to see his pillow was now reddish brown from dried blood.

"Sounded like a yes to me," she cheerfully said, opening the door. Walking over to the side of his bed, she put down a cup of coffee and a plate with a biscuit. "I thought you might be hungry, but it looks like you are having a pity party instead. Want to talk about it?"

"Did I tell you to come in?" Whit growled at her as he moved to sit up in the bed.

Annamae ignored the question. "What did you do to your pillow?" She grabbed his hand and turned it over several times, looking at the open wounds. "Have you decided to be a pugilist? It could be a better career for you than being a marshal."

"I will not be a marshal. Never was."

"Then why do it?" She sat down in the chair and leaned forward.

"I wanted to find out more about them."

"Them being the Richards?" Whit nodded. "Did you find out anything?"

"They are the evilest people alive, and I hope they all perish in the lake of fire."

Pointing at the cup, Annamae asked, "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"No."

Taking the cup, she took a sip before placing the cup back down. "You don't mean it."

"I do."

"Just because someone has bad kin doesn't mean they are all bad."

"Yes, it does." Whit crossed his arms over his chest, wincing as the tightness in his skin stretched. He quickly relaxed his arms back down at his sides, trying to ease the discomfort.

"So, if you plant an apple tree which grows, but produces rotten fruit on one branch. Do you cut down the entire tree, or do you just prune the branch?" Whit grunted in response, and Annamae continued. "If you put harvested apples in a barrel and one apple spoils, are all the apples ruined?"

"Only if you don't remove it. Sometimes it is at the bottom of the barrel and everything ferments."

"You are definitely a Hartman, Whitney." Annamae picked up the coffee and settled back in the seat. "If you will not eat the biscuit, I'll eat it."

"What do you mean, ‘I'm a Hartman'?"

"You are just as stubborn as all the other men around here." She reached over and lifted the biscuit, waving it in front of his face as she brought it toward her mouth.

"Give me that." Whit snatched the biscuit and bit it, chewing thoughtfully. "What am I missing?"

"Briggs and Reverend Billings stopped by a few days ago, before you woke up. They told Esther that Ma Richards and Brodie escaped."

The sweet flaky biscuit turned bitter on his tongue. He motioned for Annamae to hand him her cup. Taking a sip, he swallowed the biscuit and looked at his sister. "Did they say anything else?"

"If Brodie and his ma are not captured, those two and anyone they can find will persist in seeking Ma Richards' children and grandchildren. Anyone associated with them is still in danger."

"Esther should know..." His eyes opened wide. "What did Reverend Billings say to her?"

"Esther knows she is a Richards. And right now, Ma Richards thinks Esther is carrying her grandchild. I don't know why you thought it was a good idea to tell Brodie you were married, Whit."

He grinned. She was trying to protect him . There was only one thing it could mean. She still loved him!

"Why are you suddenly sitting there looking so happy?"

"I need you to find Rex... or Mudd. I don't care who it is. Find someone to go to town and bring Briggs back here. I need to talk to him."

Standing, Annamae moved to the side of the bed and pressed a hand to Whit's forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Checking to see if you are all right."

"Just do it. I really need to talk to him."

"I'll be back." Annamae swished her skirt as she headed out of the room."

"Annie?"

Annamae turned with a little smile. "What else do you need?"

"Bring me another biscuit when you come back. And some coffee, please."

Esther sat on the edge of her small bed, staring at the worn wooden floorboards. Doc hadn't stopped by, and no one could take her to town. It had been four agonizing days since she left Whit's room and told him she couldn't be with him anymore. She even let Annamae tend to his burns, too afraid to face him after what she said.

Four days of sleeping alone in a cramped bed, reminiscent of the pup tent they used to share at the hideouts. She lay awake each night, longing for his arms to wrap around her as they did so many times before, but she resisted the urge to seek him out, knowing it would only lead to more heartache.

Instead, she kept herself busy with chores around the house, trying not to think about Whit or the feelings she still had for him.

Meanwhile, Esther and Tillie cooked and cleaned for the steady stream of men who came to talk to Whit about the Richards family. She couldn't help but wonder if these men knew one of the Richards was right under their noses. The thought made her uneasy, but she knew she had to keep up appearances and play her part in this dangerous game.

"Esther!" Whit called to her as she walked past his room on the way to the kitchen.

She hesitated, her hand gripping the door frame tightly as she fought the urge to burst into his room and confess her love for him. He stood barefoot in front of the washing stand, dressed in his dark pants and shirt which he hadn't fully buttoned. She could see the bandages under his shirt through the looking glass and noticed the angry welts on his face were starting to fade.

As he combed his wet hair, he caught sight of her standing in the doorway. Slowly, he made his way over to her while buttoning up his shirt, and it took all her strength not to break down right then and there.

As he reached the entrance, he casually placed one hand against the sturdy door frame and leaned toward her. Esther noticed he hadn't finished buttoning the top few buttons, and a sprinkling of dark hair peeked through the top of the bandages. The musky scent of soap mixed with something distinctly Whit enveloped her as he stood mere inches away.

"You bathed," she said.

His piercing blue eyes held her gaze for a minute, and then he laughed. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "I'm glad to see you are up and moving around, Whit."

He inched toward her, his breaths becoming heavier and more audible. She couldn't help but notice the subtle movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed nervously.

"Esther," he breathed, his breath warm against her cheek. "Why are you avoiding me? I've missed you at night."

Her eyes snapped to his. "It would be improper for me..."

He clasped her hand in his and gently guided it to rest on the doorframe. His voice was low and husky as he spoke. "I know you came and slept next to me at night."

"How?"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, darlin'. You are the reason I got better."

She swallowed hard, her heart racing at his proximity. "I'm not avoiding you, Whit. I've just been busy is all."

His jaw clenched as he studied her face. "Too busy to tend to my wounds like you've always done?"

"You're getting better." Esther dropped her gaze, focusing on a loose thread on his shirt. "Annamae's been doing a fine job. There's no need to pretend we're married anymore."

Whit's fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his intense stare. "You know that's not what I want."

Esther's breath caught in her throat as Whit's calloused fingers grazed her skin. His touch ignited a longing deep within her, one she had tried so hard to suppress.

"What do you want, Whit?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

His blue eyes blazed with an intensity that made her knees weak. "You know what I want, Esther? I want you. I've always wanted you, from the moment I first laid eyes on you."

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "We can't... It's not right. What we did before, pretending to be married, was a sin. You need to repent. I've already repented and begged God's forgiveness."

Whit's jaw clenched tightly as a wave of frustration and anger washed over his rugged features. His piercing blue eyes narrowed, the intensity in them searing into Esther's very soul. She could see the muscles in his neck tense, like coiled springs ready to snap at any moment.

"Repent?" he scoffed; his deep voice laced with bitterness. "For what? Loving you with every fiber of my being? For wanting to be with you, to cherish and protect you always?"

He released her hand abruptly and stepped back, running his fingers through his damp hair in agitation. Esther's heart ached at the hurt and confusion etched on his handsome face, the face she had traced with gentle fingertips in stolen moments of tenderness.

"Get your things. I'm taking you back to town."

Esther's eyes widened at Whit's sudden declaration, her heart leaping into her throat. "What? Why do you want to take me back to town now?"

He spun around, his blue eyes flashing with a mixture of pain and determination. "Every moment you spend here with me, you're tearing yourself apart inside. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You're haunted by the guilt of our love, tormented by the fear the Richards gang is going to come back. I'm going to make it so we can be together. Until those outlaws are dealt with, consider yourself a Hartman. Not a Billings, not a Moore, and for sure not a Richards."

Esther stepped back. "What are you saying, Whit?"

"I know you are Ma Richards's daughter. I know you were placed in the orphanage and the Billings took you in."

"How did you...?"

"Brodie told me the first part. Annamae told me the second."

"You've known all along, and you didn't say a word to me?"

"Would it have mattered?"

"Whit, it was my family who hurt you."

Whit clasped Esther's arms. "No, Esther. It wasn't your true family who did this to us. Your genuine family is the ones who love and support you every day. They can be the parents who raised you, siblings, or friends. You get to choose who your family is. I found my family in the Hartmans when I came here. They took me in and accepted me. They are the ones who chose me, and now I choose you as part of my family. You are my family now, Esther."

"What if I'm like them?"

"You aren't, sweetheart. You are everything that is good in the world. The Richards are evil and dark; you are lightness and love. God blessed me the day I walked into that camp and found you there." He lifted her chin slightly. "I want to kiss you so badly right now."

"I wish you would, Whit."

"Not right now. We need to get to town and talk to your papa about marrying us." He turned away from her, busying himself with buttoning up his shirt and reaching for his boots. Esther watched him in stunned silence, her mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Esther's heart raced as the buckboard wagon came to a halt in front of the stark white church; its imposing steeple reaching toward the cloudy sky. Reverend Billings stepped out of the parsonage; his well-worn Bible clutched tightly in his hands.

Whit quickly tied off the reins and extended a hand to Esther, but she couldn't bring herself to take it just yet. She knew once she stepped down from the wagon, there would be no turning back. She was dreading the difficult conversation which lay ahead with her papa.

"Esther," Reverend Billings' deep voice carried across the churchyard. "You've come home." His sharp gaze flicked to Whit. "Thank you for bringing her home."

"I am glad I could bring her home safely." Whit assisted Esther from the wagon, his arm still around her as they walked the path leading to the side of the church.

"That remains to be seen."

"Papa!" Esther cried. "Apologize to Whit."

"Whit, is it? Have you learned anything while you were away? You are still using his familiar name?"

"It's alright, Esther. Let me deal with this." Whit moved closer to Reverend Billings. "I know Esther is your daughter by all rights, and I know as a father, you want to protect her in every way possible. If I had a daughter, I'd be tearing apart anyone I thought might harm her."

Reverend Billings lifted his hand. "God says turn the other cheek."

"This is your daughter you are talking about. Your precious girl. At some point, someone is going to come along and will want to take the responsibility from you." Whit turned around and flashed a smile at her, causing her toes to curl inside her boots with pleasure. "You've done a fine job raising her. It's now my job to protect her for the rest of her life."

"What about her virtue? She's ruined." The reverend pointed to people who were staring as they walked by the churchyard. "They are already talking about her in town."

"It's just small-town gossip. Tomorrow they'll talk about something else. I swear, Reverend Billings, I've never laid a hand on Esther."

Reverend Billings frowned, clearly torn between disappointment and begrudging respect. "While I appreciate your efforts to protect my daughter, I cannot condone this deceit." He sighed heavily. "Regardless, we have already decided for her. Esther will marry a God-fearing man and go with him to Virginia."

"Papa, no!" Esther cried, heart shattering. "I can't just leave..."

"Reverend," Whit interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't protect Esther out of some misguided sense of duty. I did it because I love her. She's the only good thing in my life. If I were to marry her, it would be the most righteous decision I've ever made. She may think I saved her from the outlaws, but she saved me. She makes me want to be a better man."

Whit took a step closer to Esther, his hand cupping her delicate face. "I'll be back to marry you, darlin'. I'd like your papa's blessing, and if he's willing, I'd be honored to have him perform the ceremony."

Esther leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with a bittersweet mixture of hope and trepidation. "If he won't?" she whispered, voice trembling.

"Then we'll find somebody who will," Whit declared, determination etched in every line of his handsome face. "There is nothing in this world which is going to keep me from making you my wife. I want you to spend time with your ma and sisters. I'll meet you after church on Sunday, you hear?"

Esther nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "I'll be waiting," she promised, her words a solemn vow.

With a final, searing look, Whit pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a passion which stole her breath. His lips moved over hers with a desperate intensity, as if he were trying to pour every ounce of his love and devotion into this one moment.

Around them, the townsfolk openly gawked and whispered, but Esther paid them no mind. She could hear Papa talking in the background and she ignored him, too. In this instant, there was only Whit, his powerful arms around her, and the promise of a future together.

All too soon, he released her, stepping back with visible reluctance. "I'll be back for you, Esther. I swear it."

Turning on his heel, he strode away, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk, her heart racing and her lips still tingling from his kiss. As she watched him go, Esther sent up a silent prayer, begging the Lord to keep him safe and bring him back to her so they could start their new life together.