Restless Heart (14 page)

“Too late.
You
already got hurt. I’m not going to let this puppy threaten you.” Sam turned his attention back to the kid just as the younger man charged him. He caught Sam in the stomach with an exceptionally hard shoulder and they both went down into the dirt. Jonathan had no idea what he was doing, but he could definitely make a fist. Sam’s head rang from the blows to his head while he tried to suck in a breath. The shoulder had knocked it all from his body and the kid straddling his stomach kept him breathless.

Sam put all his strength into an uppercut that knocked Jonathan clear off his stomach. He managed to get air back in his lungs and rolled to his feet as quickly as he could. The kid’s face was a mask of rage and hate, much different from the pleading, pitiful fool who’d been on his knees five minutes earlier.

The fight was turning dangerous. Sam recognized the kid had been on the edge of losing control, and this altercation was the event that shoved him past it.

With a scream worthy of any battle cry, Jonathan lunged at him, fists flying. Sam deflected most of the blows, but they ended up in the dirt again, wrestling and beating each other.
The younger man was like a caged animal let loose for the first time. Sam kept punching him, but he kept coming back for more. Soon the boy’s face started to turn violently red.

“Booth!” Sam grunted as he tried to capture the kid’s flailing fists. “Get this kid before I kill him.”

Sam heard Angeline’s gasp over the sheriff’s pounding footsteps. Soon the younger man was trying to wiggle out of the big sheriff’s grasp. He was howling like a wolf, snarling and crying. Sam understood what the kid was going through, knew the dark emotions that spread deep inside like poison. Jonathan had lost all sense, lost himself in the black tides within.

The sheriff managed to get the kid on his stomach and put handcuffs on him. Still, Jonathan bucked and grunted, growling and snapping his teeth.

Sam was breathing like a bellows, trying to clear the ringing in his head while his entire face throbbed. “You need help getting him back to the jail?”

“Nah, I don’t need any help, but you’re coming too, Sam. You started this.” The sheriff’s blue gaze was stern.

“Fine. I’ll come too.” Sam met Angeline’s horrified gaze. She shook her head in denial over the state of her childhood sweetheart.

“I don’t understand, Sam.”

He shook his head. “I’ll explain later. I’ve got to be arrested first. Can you please go check on my father? He was napping.”

Later on he’d sort out his own dark emotions, the fury that egged him on to starting a fight with a kid half his size. Sam loved Angeline to distraction, and obviously so did Jonathan. She inspired men to great heights and, now he knew, to the lowest depths.

“Yes, I will.” She glanced at his face and stepped toward him with her apron raised. “You’re hurt.”

Sam shrugged off her touch. “Not now, Angel. We can talk about this later, but not now.”

He couldn’t begin to explain to her how much he wanted to howl like Jonathan did. That he was only a hair’s-breadth from losing his control too. Elemental rage still coursed through him, and he wanted to beat the younger man until the breath was knocked from his body for good.

Sam had never felt the killing lust like this. Even when he was at war, he’d reacted with more horror than rage. Yet when his relationship, his future with Angeline, was threatened, he wanted to kill.

She must have seen it in his gaze because she stopped and stepped back away from him. “I’ll go check on your father now.”

Sam took the kid’s other arm and together, he and the sheriff half-dragged Jonathan to the jail. The entire way there, the younger man tried to bite them.

Angeline turned to find Marta and Lettie standing in the door, their faces awash in sympathy. Alice poked her head out beside them.

“Never thought I’d see two men fight over her.”

“Shut up, Alice,” Lettie snapped. “Get your skinny ass inside and mind your own business.”

Normally, Marta would have scolded Lettie and Alice, but instead she met Angeline’s worried gaze.

“Go take care of Mr. Carver for Sam. We’ll mind your duties until you get the mess sorted out.”

Angeline nodded her thanks to Marta, then looked at Let-tie. Her friend was more than angry, she was also scared. An-geline could see it in her brown gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. Men are always making a mess of things.” Lettie’s lips were pinched together so tightly they turned white.

Angeline felt terrible about everything, but she knew Lettie was right. It wasn’t her fault. She had to keep remembering that or she’d get caught up in the men’s feud. They were the ones acting like idiots. She had considered throwing a bucket of water on them as they wrestled around in the street, as if she had to break up a fight between two animals.

That’s what they’d been—two animals fighting over her. She walked to Sam’s house in a daze, shaken to her core by the fight she’d just witnessed. There wasn’t much fistfighting in Utah, and she’d been shielded from life for so long, every time she saw violence, it shocked her.

Then to see Jonathan act like an animal, echoed by Sam … she could hardly fathom what had happened to both of them. They were gentle men, soft-spoken, and sweet. What she’d just witnessed told her they had a side to them she had never even imagined existed.

It was as if they became animals fighting in the dirt for her. She didn’t understand and certainly didn’t like it. When she remembered the look in Sam’s eyes, she began shaking so hard, her teeth rattled. He’d been out of control, not quite as much as Jonathan, but definitely not himself.

It scared her as much as it intrigued and angered her. She knew there were so many things she didn’t understand about men, about life, even about human nature. Her flight into the world had taught her quite a bit, but she obviously still had much to learn.

She went over to the Carvers’ house and found Michael just waking up. He frowned at her as he rubbed his right eye.

“I know you.”

“Yes, my name is Angeline. I’m a friend of Sam’s.” She walked over and handed him an obviously well-loved sweater. “He couldn’t be here so he asked me to make you dinner.”

“I am a might hungry.” Michael got to his feet and slipped on the sweater. “You wore the same dress the last time you were here.”

Although Angeline was embarrassed he’d noticed, she smiled at the fact he had recognized it. “I don’t have many clothes, unfortunately, so I wash them often, as much as I wear them.”

They stepped out into the hallway and walked side by side to the stairs.

“You are the same size as my wife was. She was thin like you, but her hair was like midnight, silky black midnight.” As he spoke of his wife, Mr. Carver seemed to come to life.

She smiled as they walked downstairs together, ready to hear every story he wanted to tell about the woman who still held his heart. It reminded her that love was more important than anything.

Sam’s jaw throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

Thump-thump-thump.

The young scrapper had a lot of power behind his skinny arms, that was for sure. Sam knew he had crusted blood on his lips, nose, and forehead. His stomach also hurt from the sharp shoulder of his opponent.

Both of them were in cells, facing each other across the tiny space between them. Henry knew better than to keep them together, or they just might hurt each other even worse. The kid had fought all the way to the jail. He’d even bitten the sheriff on the arm and earned a sharp cuff to the head, rendering him unconscious.

Jonathan lay on his bunk like a rag doll, snoring softly. Sam wanted to throw something over there to wake him up. Little shit had come in there like a cock of the walk, stirring up trouble and trying to take Angeline.

Ain’t no way that was going to happen, not while Sam lived and breathed.

“You calmed down yet?” Henry Booth leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

“Yeah, I’m calm.” Sam glanced outside, startled to realize
it was nearly sundown. He’d been locked up most of the afternoon, which meant his father might be alone. “You hear from Angeline about my pa?”

“No, I didn’t.” The sheriff frowned at him, his silver brows creating a vee. “What’s wrong with your pa?”

Sam gingerly touched his lip, avoiding the other man’s gaze. “He’s not feeling well. I, um, asked Angeline to look after him while I was here.”

“I heard you ask her and wondered why. Something you ain’t telling me, Sam?” Henry always had an uncanny ability to see through a lie, even if the liar was a twenty-nine-year old man.

“Nothing I can talk about just yet. Leave it be for now, okay, Henry?” Sam didn’t want to let the town know yet about his father’s loss of faculties.

“Fair enough.” Booth stepped closer and unlocked Sam’s cell. He gestured to the cell to his right. “What do we do about this one?”

Sam got to his feet, his entire body aching from head to toe. He wished like hell he could have a hot bath, but more than likely he didn’t even have the strength to heat the water, much less empty the tub.

“Let him sleep for now. After he wakes up, we need to talk to him about getting out of Forestville and leaving Angeline alone.” Sam would rather drag the kid back to wherever he belonged, by force if necessary. No doubt when he woke up, Jonathan would have a hell of a headache and a smart mouth.

Booth nodded. “I’ll let you know when he does. You should head on home now and tell your pa I said hello.”

Sam couldn’t quite manage a smile—whether because his mouth hurt or because he felt like shit, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Henry.”

When he stepped outside the jail, he blinked against the brightness of the setting sun. He walked as quickly as he
could manage with the soreness of his body. It took longer than he wanted, but he walked through his door in less than fifteen minutes.

“Angeline?”

Silence met his question and he was immediately awash in new worry. Where was she? And for that matter, where was his father? He closed the door behind him and walked into the house, peering into each room, all of which were cloaked in the shadows of sunset.

He looked up the stairs and took two at a time, out of breath with more than just the exertion of the climb. When he finally got to his father’s bedroom, he heard what he couldn’t discern from downstairs.

Singing.

No doubt it was Angeline and it was no surprise to realize she had the voice of an angel. She sang softly, sweetly, a melody he didn’t recognize. Sam pressed his head against the door and let her voice wash over him. The notes were like soothing swipes against his aches and pains.

Her voice trailed off and then she was murmuring softly. Sam stepped back just as the door opened. She didn’t appear to be startled, as if she’d known he was out there listening. After closing the door behind her, she gazed at him, apparently cataloging his injuries.

“Let’s go downstairs and get you cleaned up.” Just like that, she’d taken control of the situation.

Sam followed her, too tired and wrung out to do anything but as she bade. By the time he got to the kitchen, he realized she had buckets already heating on the stove, and she’d dragged in the tub from the back porch.

He was astonished and so grateful tears pricked his eyes. “Angel, did you do all this?”

She stuck her finger into each of the three buckets on the stove. “Did you think I grew up with servants? I know how to work and I’m strong. There’s not much I can’t do in a
kitchen, or in a house for that matter.” She pointed to one of the kitchen chairs. “Now sit.”

Sam sat and watched her as she gathered a few things, then pulled the chair up and sat down, facing him.

“Let’s get those cuts clean first.” She dipped a rag into a bowl of hot water and reached for him.

Sam closed his eyes and let her wash away the blood and dirt. Her touch was gentle, soothing, a balm to his battered body and soul. It had been a day filled with too much to take in all at once. He needed time to heal and Angeline seemed to sense that—part of their connection which grew even stronger with each passing moment.

“How is Jonathan?” she asked as she wrung out the rag in the water.

“Sleeping, but fine as far as I can tell. Henry is going to keep an eye on him, let me know when he wakes up so we can sort all of this business out.” Sam opened his eyes and met her worried blue gaze. “I didn’t want to fight him, Angel.”

She nodded. “I know you didn’t. He’s not the boy I knew. I’m not sure what happened, what made him act the way he did.”

Sam looked at her. “Honey, he’s in love with you, desperately, hopelessly in love with you. A man who loses the woman he loves so deeply will do anything he can to get her back.”

The idea seemed to shock her. “This whole thing is my fault?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Sam reached out and cupped her chin. “You inspire men to love you just by being you. Their stupidity is their own, not yours. That kid knew what he was doing, what he was up against when he came back to Forestville. He knew who I was, knew what you meant to me.”

Instead of denying it, she nodded again. “He was here earlier this week and saw us together. I explained to him that I was never going back to Tolson, to the church, and especially to Josiah. He seemed to accept that and left. I never expected him to come back.” She squeezed the rag so hard, water began dripping on her dress. “I never wanted either one of you to be hurt.”

Sam took the rag from her and set it back in the bowl, then kissed her forehead, nose, and lips. “I know you didn’t, so stop blaming yourself for our fight. There is no good explanation as to why men fight each other. I guess deep inside we’re animals in the forest fighting for what we want.”

“You are not an animal.”

He couldn’t possibly explain to her the things he’d done as a soldier, as a man. Some of them she would never believe, even if he told her. Men did what they had to in order to survive, no matter how horrific or unnatural it might seem. An-geline had obviously accepted the fact there was nothing she could have done to stop the fight between him and Jonathan.