Chapter Fifteen
AS THE DAYS PASSEDwith no sign of anyone lurking about the farm, Levi’s worries didn’t diminish. Twice was too many times to be a coincidence. Someone was keeping an eye on him, and he had the sinking feeling that the someone was associated with Prather.
Next week, he decided. He would ride into town and talk with the sheriff. The sooner he got help, the sooner he could get Prather out of this valley. And the sooner he wouldn’t have to worry about his family.
He’d think about what came next with his job later.
Levi continued riding south for several hours each day, losing valuable planting time on the farm. A couple of times he went at night, but the fatigue wore him down. No matter what time of day or night it was, he was even more wary than usual. But, thankfully, he spotted no one.
He was returning from an early morning visit to watch for Prather when he heard an anguished cry come from the barn.
Not hesitating a second, Levi swung himself down from his horse and raced into the barn. He was vaguely aware of the door to the house opening, and Rebecca crying out, “Roger!”
The dawn provided just enough light to see by, and Levi spotted Roger immediately.
The little boy was sitting on the floor of the barn, Levi’s saw lying on the floor at his side, and one arm cradled in the other. A dark red stain pooled against the sleeve of his shirt.
Levi fell to his knees beside Roger as Rebecca burst through the door behind him. He yanked his coat and hat off and tossed them to the side.
“Roger! What happened?” Rebecca fell to the floor beside Levi.
Roger took a gulping gasp. “I don’t know!”
“I think he cut himself. Here. Let me see.” Gently, Levi pried Roger’s cradled arm away from him.
Roger sucked in air through his teeth. Fearing what he might find under the blood-soaked sleeve of the boy’s shirt, Levi turned to Rebecca.
“Bring me water, a bandage, alcohol, and a clean cloth.”
Rebecca raised a hand to cup Roger’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. Do everything Levi tells you,” she said. Her voice shook slightly but held steady. Then she jumped up to run back to the house.
He wadded up his coat and pressed it against Roger’s arm, hoping to stanch some of the bleeding before pulling the sleeve back.
“I didn’t mean to,” the boy said between sobs.
“I know.” There would be plenty of time later to have a serious discussion about using dangerous tools without asking first. Right now, he needed to keep Roger calm. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be fine. Take slow, deep breaths.” Levi rested his free hand on Roger’s shoulder.
Roger nodded, trying to obey but still fighting tears.
He needed distraction. “Did I tell you about the crooked table my brother and I made when we were kids?”
Roger shook his head, and Levi launched into the story, keeping pressure on the wound. When Rebecca returned, Roger’s panic had subsided, and Levi had even gotten a small smile out of the boy.
“I brought everything I could think of.” Rebecca set the items on a towel she’d also grabbed and then took Roger’s free hand. “I can tend to the wound if—”
“It’s all right. I have plenty of experience.” Levi set to work, carefully peeling back Roger’s sleeve to expose the injury before cleaning it. It was deep, but loss of the blood was the only real concern, thankfully.
Rebecca murmured reassuring words to her son as she grasped his hand and watched Levi work. He finished with an expert wrap of the bandage before sitting back on his heels.
“We’ll need to unwrap and clean it once a day,” he said. “You’ve been very brave, Roger. I know it hurts.”
The boy nodded seriously, his tears finally dry.
“Let’s get you inside to lie down,” Rebecca said as she rose from the floor of the barn. She reached for Roger’s hand to help him up.
“Can Levi take me?” the boy asked.
It took Levi a moment to realize what Roger had said. He looked to Rebecca, who nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “Be sure to thank him for his help.”
“Thank you.” Roger reached out to take Levi’s hand.
The small hand tucked into his made Levi’s heart ache. No child had ever looked at him like that. This little boy trusted him, and Levi had met his expectations. No praise from anyone else he’d ever hoped to impress in his life meant as much as the way Roger looked up at him.
“Let’s get you to bed, little man,” he said. “If you feel better later on, maybe you can help me hold nails to fix some of that fencing down by the road.”
“I’ll feel better,” Roger said with all of the confidence of his seven years.
“I don’t doubt it,” Levi replied. He pushed the door open and looked back toward Rebecca, who watched them with a smile.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll clean this up and be in soon. Gwynnie and Sarah are tending to breakfast.”
They walked slowly toward the house, Levi keeping a careful grip on Roger’s hand. He didn’t think the boy had lost enough blood to feel faint, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He pointed out the fence that needed fixing and a rabbit that hopped across the yard.
“You’re about old enough to learn how to shoot,” Levi went on, casting an assessing eye at the skinny blond boy.
Roger perked up immediately. “Really?”
Levi pretended to think a moment. “Yes,” he finally said. “Provided that you listen to me, and that you prove I can trust you to think more carefully about what you’re doing in the future.”
Roger nodded, and then winced, the action likely jarring his hurt arm. “You can trust me, I promise. I won’t go picking up a saw again unless I ask first.”
“The same rule applies to anything else that could hurt you unless it’s used correctly. Do you understand?” Levi opened the door to the house.
“I do,” the boy said seriously.
“All right,” Levi said as they entered the house. “Heal up, and then I’ll teach you.”
Roger laid down with a huge grin, and pride bloomed in Levi’s chest. Roger was a good kid, and Levi had no doubt the boy would be true to his word—as best as he could be, anyway.
Rebecca arrived, loaded down with everything she’d brought out to the barn, plus Levi’s hat and bloodstained coat. She set it all down just inside the door as Levi began piling breakfast onto a plate for her.
“Thank you,” she said with a strained smile as she took the plate from him. She sank into a chair and ate in silence. Levi helped himself to a second serving of eggs as Gwynnie tried to convince Emmy to eat more than one slice of ham.
“Not hungry!” The little girl wrapped her arms around herself and frowned.
“Let her go on, honey,” Rebecca said to Gwynnie in a weary voice. “She’ll be plenty hungry by noon.”
The children left the table and went outside, with the exception of Roger, who continued to nap.
“He’s sleeping well,” Levi said as he sat back in his chair.
“Mmm.” Rebecca pushed the remaining eggs around her plate with a fork, not bothering to lift them to her mouth.
“And he seemed in good spirits when we walked in. I offered to teach him how to shoot in exchange for him promising to ask before picking up dangerous tools again.” Levi smiled at the memory of how excited Roger had gotten at the prospect.
Rebecca said nothing as she continued to stare at her uneaten eggs. Worry lines creased the corners of her mouth. She must have still feared what could have happened.
Levi moved around the table to the chair beside her and reached for her hand, but the second he did, she stood quickly, picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen.
His forehead crinkled. Was she angry at him for leaving the saw within reach of the children? “Rebecca?” he asked as he stood up slowly.
She set the plate down on the countertop and stood there a moment. Levi wanted to move toward her, to reach for her hand again, but something inside told him not to. He’d never seen Rebecca angry, and he had a feeling he was about to. So he stood where he was and waited for her to answer.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she turned around and fixed him with a gaze so hard he would have guessed he’d done something much worse than leave a saw out.
He was wondering if he should simply apologize when she reached into the pocket of her blue-sprigged skirt and withdrew an old, crumpled slip of paper. Silently, she held it out to him, and as soon as his fingers touched it, he knew what it was.
He opened it anyway, his heart falling faster than a shooting star. The lines of faded pencil script stared back at him. Project ongoing. Location not confirmed but confidence high. LW. He tried to keep a poker face when he looked up at her. “Where did you find this?”
“In the pocket of your coat.”
Of course. He’d shoved it in there some time ago and never taken it out. He ought to have torn it into pieces at the depot and disposed of it then. It was sloppy to forget about it, and he ought to be glad that Rebecca had found it instead of someone who would have shot him dead upon reading it.
He folded the paper, vowing to toss it into the fire, and set it on the table beside him.
“What is it? What does it mean? You’re LW, clearly, but what is this project?” Rebecca’s arms were crossed, and she looked defensive. Almost as if she were afraid of him.
Levi pressed his fingers against his forehead and rubbed, as if that could erase the fact that she was asking questions about something that could get her killed. He closed his eyes and tried to think.
“Please don’t lie to me.” Her voice was strong, as if she dared him to even attempt to make something up, but he could hear the slight tremor beneath it.
Levi shook his head. “I won’t.” At this point, did it matter if she knew about Prather? Because if Prather had discovered Levi was the one who had chased him in town, and was the one who had sent someone to lurk about the farm, Rebecca and the children were already in danger whether they knew or not.
He dropped his hand and looked her straight in the eye, trying to find the words. Instead, he gestured for her to follow him as he crossed the room to the desk. His hand hovered over the top drawer for a moment as he reconsidered.
No, he thought the second he caught Rebecca’s curious—but still angry—gaze. She was just as beautiful when she was mad at him as she was when she smiled. But, he decided, it was much nicer when she smiled at him—when he was the reason for her smile.
Without hesitating again, he reached down and yanked open the middle drawer. After moving aside some handkerchiefs and other items, he pulled out an old newspaper wrapped around the one item that could identify him as anything but a farmer.
He closed the drawer and straightened, holding the small package out to Rebecca. “Open it.”
She frowned at him, clearly confused, but she took the wrapped paper from his hand. Setting it on the desk, she slowly pulled back the newspaper to reveal a silver star surrounded by a circle with wording he’d run his finger over hundreds of times. For the first year or so, it hadn’t seemed real to him, and he would sit and stare at the badge as if it were made of dreams and wishes and would simply disappear one day.
But it hadn’t, and now he was here in this valley, pretending to be a farmer to the woman he’d married.
“United States Marshal,” she whispered, reading the words printed around the edge. She swallowed visibly before looking back up at him. “This belongs to you?”
“It does.” He clasped his hands behind him. He’d always been proud of his work, but he wasn’t feeling particularly proud of keeping it from Rebecca.
“And this isn’t a keepsake from a former position?”
“It isn’t.”
She ran a finger over the metal before bringing her gaze back up to his. “I’m sure you have a good reason for hiding this from me. I’m just not yet certain if I want to hear it.”
It would have hurt less if she’d hit him or screamed at him. This quiet acknowledgment of betrayal was so much worse. “I’ll explain it all to you if you’d like to know,” he heard himself say.
She nodded. And then she walked away.