Benjamin (3 page)

“Mr. Graham, Ben, please. Every day that passes—”

He erupted from the ground with a roar, his face a mask of rage. She reared back in surprise. “Don’t remind me every fucking second. I
know
.” He moved past her into the rough lean-to and disappeared from sight.

Grace knew enough to leave him be. The man had demons stronger than hers. She didn’t know what he endured as a child, and frankly, wasn’t sure she was prepared to hear it. Henry was all that was important.

The afternoon sun began to slip down the horizon as she waited for her reluctant companion. She appreciated his cleverness in concealing the structure he lived in. The bushes and trees concealed it from view until she’d been directly in front of the door. If Ben hadn’t walked up to it, she might not have found it. He hid himself so well from the world, she wondered if he’d follow through with going with her. The man hadn’t wanted to be found.

Grace checked on the horses nibbling grass nearby. The sun reflected off their shiny coats. Her horse seemed to get along with Paladin. She would never forget that beautiful gelding and how he looked streaking across the ground as though he’d been flying. Ben’s sister Catherine had ridden him to victory against Grace in the spring.

That was when Grace lived as Duffy, a drifter, a man who gambled against horse races. She’d been hunting the Cunninghams, Manfred in particular. The man Ben Graham had beaten to death in front of a hundred witnesses.

The image was burned into her mind. It was exactly what she’d wanted to do but lacked the strength. With Cunningham’s death, however, Ben had set in motion a series of events that she and he were both now mired in. Stuck together.

Truth be told, she was a little afraid of him. Grace didn’t allow herself to feel much anymore. All of it had been shunted aside. The tears she’d shed earlier had been an anomaly in the life she’d been living for a year. No more. She could be nothing but strong and ruthless until Henry was back in her arms.

Ben finally emerged from the lean-to with a pair of saddlebags on his shoulder. “We’ll need supplies.”

She gestured to her horse. “I’m well stocked.”

“I’m not. Let’s go.”

With very little in the way of speaking, they readied the horses and were on their way a few minutes later. Grace could be patient and wait for him to speak. What she couldn’t do was allow him to deter her from her mission.

“Where are we going?”

“Supplies.”

She counted to ten. “And where are the supplies?”

“What do you have to barter?” Not really an answer.

“I have supplies. You’re not using my things to get yourself some.” She was annoyed he would ask. “Why don’t have you have food in your lean-to?”

“I have meat, but otherwise I was fixing to restock before the fall weather got here.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “When somebody showed up and derailed my life.”

Grace felt a pinch of remorse, but she pushed it aside. Ruthless. “How long will this take?”

“As long as it does. Old man Frasier is up the trail a piece.” He gestured with his hands at the wooded area.

She held in her frustration, unwilling to be pulled into an argument with Ben. She needed him to get to her ultimate goal. The compound and Henry. Riling Ben’s temper further wouldn’t help the situation. She was glad that he’d given in to her request even if she’d held him at gunpoint to force him to listen to her. She had been prepared to do anything she had to.

They rode in thick silence for another hour. Grace began to wonder if her hat was actually a stove filled with the late-day heat that had settled on them. The sun was beginning its journey down the sky when they finally rode up to a small, ramshackle cabin. The entire structure leaned to the left and had huge patches of moss growing on it. The trees around it provided ample shade and dipped low over the cockeyed roof.

Did every man in the woods live in an unlivable hovel?

The snick of a gun cocking made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her hand crept to the rifle in its scabbard. She had always been skilled with guns since her Pa had taught her how to use one when she was a little mite. Any Texan worth her salt could use a gun no matter what the occasion was—a snake, a deer, or a hermit who wanted to shoot her.

“Don’t move or I’ll give you a new hole in your head.” The voice came from somewhere in the woods ahead of them. She couldn’t see anyone, but the threat, and the gun, was very real. Damn it. This was not what she wanted to get caught up in. Time was slipping through her fingers.

“Shit.” Grace glared at Ben. “You did this on purpose.”

He shook his head. “Folks around here don’t like strangers.” He glared back at her. “And you’re the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

*

Ben’s gut was
tight as a fist as he held his hands in the air. He expected the old man to be suspicious, but the woman’s presence had set the strange hermit into a tailspin. Damn.

“Who you be?”

“It’s your neighbor, Ben.”

“I got eyes. I ain’t talking to you.” The barrel of the gun waved in Grace’s direction. “Who’s the pretty fella?”

Ben scowled in her direction. He’d not thought she was pretty. Hell, he hadn’t considered anything beyond his fury at the way she’d manipulated him into helping her. The grief in her voice, and the desperation, had been real. He’d been raised to be honorable and help those in need, but he didn’t want to help her. He
needed
to help her. The reason why was something he didn’t want to examine too closely. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Duffy,” she replied in a voice that was remarkably husky.

“Why you here?”

“Supplies.” Ben didn’t know who the hell Duffy was. She’d said her name was Grace Beckett, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to lie to the old man. It was the rule of those who didn’t wish to be found, those that lived in the shadows of the hills. They had to trust each other to speak the truth.

“It’s a couple months ’til winter.”

“I gotta stock up early.” Ben wasn’t willing to share anything else or lie to him. The less people knew what he was doing, the better. If Grace was right, the Cunninghams had a long reach.

“He ain’t coming in.”

“Fine. Duffy will stay here.” Ben didn’t bother to look at his companion. If she wanted to be on their way, he needed supplies. She’d have to wait and find patience, something she didn’t seem to have much of. He dismounted and grabbed the two burlap sacks he’d brought with him, along with the smoked meat from the doe.

The next ten minutes were spent in the shadows of Frasier’s cave behind the cabin. Ben didn’t ask the other man where he got his supplies but they traded and haggled. He left the darkened interior with the bags full of what he needed, blinking against the bright light.

Grace sat on her horse, holding the reins to Paladin, and damned if she wasn’t whispering to him. The horse didn’t take to many but for some completely unfathomable reason, he seemed to like her. The woman who had set Ben’s world on fire and then waited while he tried to put out the flames himself.

Stupid horse.

He stuffed the bags into his saddlebags and swung up in the saddle, almost snatching the reins from her proffered hand. “Let’s go.”

She offered no response, simply followed his lead. He didn’t know whether to be offended she didn’t speak or annoyed she didn’t feel the need to.

“I was only a boy when I left the compound. My memory will not be perfect.”

She nodded. “It will get us close enough. From there it’s a matter of asking the right people the right questions.”

“And then what?” he snapped. “Do you plan to knock on the door and ask for your son back?” He knew he was being cruel, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling from his mouth. His emotions were too raw to control them.

“Maybe. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back.” She paused, a low growl rumbling in her throat. A primal noise. “I’d give my life if it meant he would be free.”

A mother’s love. Something Ben only recalled with a hazy child’s memory. He was five when he’d been taken, when he’d seen his mother murdered. The closest thing to a mother since then had been his oldest sister, Olivia, and their housekeeper, Eva, but even that wasn’t the same thing. His family loved him. He knew that in his bones, but they weren’t the same thing as a mother’s love.

Strange that he envied the faceless child Grace fought to rescue. The boy was probably going through hell, but his mother loved him enough to sacrifice anything and everything for him. That was love in its purest form.

It shouldn’t affect him. He refused to let it. Ben tore his thoughts away from mothers and sons, and pushed them toward the logistics of their journey. It would take at least two days to get to the edge of the county, if they didn’t run into any trouble. Then it was another week until they reached the area around the Cunningham property.

That was if his memory worked and the landmarks hadn’t changed too drastically. His flight from the compound had been full of fear and the certainty that he would be found and dragged back. His brother Caleb had been the one to find him and return him home. It was something he’d never thanked him for, much to Ben’s embarrassment. At the time, he could hardly believe it was real, and then as more time passed, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Now it was too late. Ben had committed murder, become a fugitive, and lived on the edge of society. There would be no more going home, and Caleb would never receive the thanks he deserved. Ben had a great number of regrets, and that was the biggest. He owed his brother and his wife, Aurora, his life. The two of them had been his saviors.

Now Ben had the chance to help Grace’s son, Henry. Perhaps if he could be the boy’s savior, it would right the scales of the wrong in some way. Not entirely, but enough to make Ben’s conscience ease a little. Erase a bit of the darkness that covered him.

It was a painful thing to live with. A sense of guilt that ate away at his soul, bite by bite, piece by piece. Until eventually there would be nothing left.

*

Grace had spent
the last year sleeping, eating, bathing, and riding alone. She thrived on that loneliness. It fed her fury and filled her empty belly. It kept her going day after day and night after night.

Now she was no longer alone and she wasn’t sure she liked it. No, she was sure she didn’t. Riding beside Ben Graham was disconcerting and uncomfortable. She kept glancing at him, as though he wasn’t supposed to be there. However the only reason he was there was because of her.

She’d forced him to help her by turning herself inside out and exposing the gaping wound in her heart. He knew her deepest secrets and she knew very little about him. That made the situation worse. It was as though she were naked and he fully clothed. The scar on her neck itched from the sweat that pooled at her collar. It only added to the misery of the situation.

Therefore, her mood couldn’t be worse. He didn’t speak or even acknowledge her presence as they rode, but
his
very presence annoyed her. It was nonsensical, but true.

Grace wasn’t a social creature by nature. She’d always gone her own way, no matter if no one else liked it or approved of it. That kind of behavior led her to little choice for a husband, not that Alfred wasn’t a good man. He ended up being the perfect mate for her because he’d respected her and let her be that odd duck.

Now he was gone and she was alone once more. Or she was until she convinced Ben Graham to help her. She was the one who had to adjust to not being alone, but then again, so did he. Two people who were desperate to shun company forced by circumstance to be together. That would’ve made her laugh at the absurdity of the situation if hadn’t been her cross to bear.

The sun was no more than an orange wink in the western horizon when she remembered she’d be spending the night with Ben. Every night. Until they found Henry at least.

Well, shit.

She didn’t want to spend the night with him. She wanted her privacy, and a stranger’s eyes on her wouldn’t allow her any time alone. During the year she spent living as a man, she still managed to keep herself separated from others. Now there was no choice.