for. And her determined pursuit was playing havoc with the quiet, well-ordered life he’d strived so hard to build for himself and was determined to maintain at all costs.
He never wanted to go back to what he’d once been. Nor did he want to be a husband again, not after the tragic outcome of his marriage.
His rebuffs of the widow’s overtures would obviously have to be more direct in the future—a confrontation he wasn’t looking forward to. Thus his decision to slip away to a friend’s cabin for a week or so.
Mitch shook off those thoughts. He’d deal with that unpleasantness when he returned to Turnabout. This week was for relaxing and regaining that all-important sense of control over his life.
And this back-of-beyond cabin had been just the place to do it. He was grateful to Reggie Barr for giving him the use of it. In a way, it was a homecoming. The cabin was where he’d spent his first night in this part of the world, two years ago. Reggie had been a stranger then, but had held his fate in her hands. Now he counted her and her husband, Adam, amongst his closest friends.
He’d made it to the cabin yesterday afternoon, in time to get some fishing in. Fishing, reading and sketching, and no people around. Yes, this was going to be a fine week indeed.
Just before he’d left town yesterday, Reggie had told him he could find some mulberry trees north of the cabin. So now he was heading that way, hoping to gather a generous amount of the fruit, and curious to explore a different section of the woods. Perhaps he’d find inspiration for some of the sketching he planned to do.
A bark echoed through the trees, catching Mitch’s attention. What would a dog be doing out here? It was a four-hour ride from Turnabout and as far as he knew, no one lived out this way. Then again, maybe someone had settled here recently. He grimaced at that thought. He hoped whoever it was wasn’t the gregarious type—he wasn’t in a sociable mood.
But he was getting ahead of himself. A dog didn’t necessarily mean there were people around. The animal could have wandered all this way on his own.
Mitch slowed Seeley, then pulled the horse to a stop. Maybe he should turn around and return to the cabin. If there were people up ahead, there was no sense in inviting an acquaintance. Perhaps if he refrained from intruding on them, they’d return the favor.
Then he reluctantly set Seeley in motion again. If he was going to have neighbors, it was best he meet them at a time of his own choosing rather than have them arrive on his doorstep when he wasn’t prepared. He could also drop a hint or two that he valued his privacy.
As Mitch neared the spot where the dog’s bark had come from, he heard a human voice as well, though he couldn’t make out the words. Well, that answered that—there were people out here.
He peered through the woods and spied a youth standing on a log, plucking mulberries from a tree. It appeared someone besides him had designs on the berries.
Mitch quickly scanned the surrounding area, looking for the other members of the lad’s party. There was a scruffy-looking dog and a mule, but no sign of either a homestead or other people.
The dog spotted him first and began barking furiously.
“Goodness, Rufus, what’s gotten into you? Is it another squirrel?” The youth turned to look and, as he caught sight of Mitch, his eyes widened and his foot slipped, losing its purchase on the log. His arms flailed as he attempted to catch his balance. The youth’s hat went flying and the appearance of a long untidy braid had Mitch quickly revising his initial impression.
A moment later, she was flat on her back on the ground.
And not moving.
Nightmare memories of another fallen woman whooshed through Mitch with the force of a flash flood. He vaulted from his horse, his heart pounding like a mad thing trying to escape his chest.
Not again. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to make him relive such a tragedy a second time.
Would He?
Chapter Two
In a matter of seconds, Mitch knelt beside the all-too-still form, checking for signs of life. When he saw the rise of her chest, his frenetic heartbeat slowed slightly. But he refocused immediately. He needed to find out just how badly she was hurt.
His breath caught for a moment as he spotted reddish stains on her shirt and hands. But a heartbeat later he realized they came from berries, not blood.
Why was she out here alone, and why was she dressed as a boy?
He shoved those thoughts aside—there would be time later for those questions, once he’d made certain she was okay.
It was his fault she’d fallen. He hadn’t intended to startle her, but that didn’t absolve him of the fact that he had. He of all people knew that actions often had unanticipated consequences. He also knew his imposing size could make strangers uncomfortable at the best of times. For a lone female who wasn’t expecting him—even one dressed as a boy—his arrival must have been a shock.
She stirred and he turned his attention to her face, only now taking in her physical appearance. Her nose and cheeks were dusted with a liberal sprinkling of freckles, giving her a youthful look. Her still-closed eyes were partially covered by a fringe of reddish-brown hair that had escaped her braid. He absently brushed the tendrils away from her face and was rewarded with a grimace and a soft moan, welcome signs that she was regaining consciousness.
“Easy,” he said, still uncertain of her condition.
She started at the sound of his voice, and her eyes flew open, regarding him with wide-eyed confusion and uncertainty. The deep clover-green of her irises startled him momentarily. They were the most amazingly intense eyes he’d ever seen.
“Are you hurt?” He kept his voice calm, trying not to further alarm her.
“I don’t... My head hurts, but I think I’m okay.”
She made as if to sit up, but he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently restraining her. “Easy now. Take a minute before you move around too much.”
She gave him a peevish frown. “I need to sit up—the ground’s wet.”
That’s what she was worried about? Probably still addled from the fall. “I understand, but let’s check you out first.”
The suspicion in her expression deepened, and she attempted to put more distance between them. “I can check my own self, thank you.”
Though her words were assertive, her tone was slurred and she seemed none too steady. He didn’t want to agitate her further, however, so he nodded.
“All right, but if you insist on sitting up, at least let me assist you.” He placed a hand at her elbow and helped her up, keeping close watch for signs of injuries or weakness. Once he was sure she wouldn’t fall over again, he eased back on his haunches, ignoring the dampness seeping through the knees of his pants, trying to maintain a nonthreatening pose.
As soon as he moved back, she pulled a knife from somewhere and had it unsteadily pointed at his chest. “If you’re thinking to rob me, mister, you should know I don’t have much worth stealing, but what’s mine is mine.”
