Chapter 5 - The Name She Tried to Bury
The next morning Rufus examined every door, hinge and window.
Nothing had been broken.
That bothered him more.
“Somebody knew how to get in quietly,” he said.
Dela stood with her arms folded.
“Caleb.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
“Who else?”
“Warren knows men.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you shouldn’t.”
Rufus gave her a look.
“I’m beginning to suspect your husband isn’t a banker who simply misses his wife.”
Dela’s silence answered.
Rufus leaned against the table.
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Telling me half.”
“It’s safer.”
“For who?”
“For you.”
“That decision mine or yours?”
Dela stiffened.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Rufus’s expression softened slightly.
“I know.”
“Then stop asking.”
“I can’t protect myself from something I don’t understand.”
“I never asked you to protect me.”
“No.”
His gaze held hers.
“But you’re here.”
There it was again.
That infuriating simplicity.
Dela walked toward the stove.
“I left Butte because my husband hurt me.”
“I know.”
“You suspected.”
“Different word, same conclusion.”
“He had done it before.”
Rufus’s jaw tightened.
“He apologized afterward.”
“That supposed to help?”
“No.”
She almost smiled bitterly.
“He always apologized.”
Dela looked into the stove.
“At first, he blamed drink. Then work. Then me.”
Rufus said nothing.
“The first time he struck me, I spent two days trying to understand what I had done.”
Her voice thinned.
“The tenth time, I stopped wondering.”
Rufus stared at the floor.
Dela continued because stopping had suddenly become harder.
“I married him when I was twenty-two.”
“Family?”
“My mother was dead. My father owed money to Warren’s bank.”
Rufus understood immediately.
“He cleared the debt.”
“Yes.”
“And married you.”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
“I believed it was love.”
“No shame in that.”
“I should have known.”
“No.”
The force in Rufus’s voice startled her.
“You should’ve been able to trust your husband not to hurt you. That’s all you should’ve known.”
Dela turned.
No one had ever said it that way.
Not even herself.
Before she could answer, Bear barked outside.
Both froze.
Rufus moved toward the window.
A rider emerged from the trees.
Not Caleb.
An older man.
Gray coat.
Medical bag.
Rufus exhaled.
Dela became suspicious.
“Who is that?”
“Doctor.”
Her blood went cold.
“You sent for a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“You invited a stranger here.”
“For your ribs.”
“I said I was fine.”
“You lie every time you say that.”
Dela backed away.
“He’ll ask questions.”
“Probably.”
“I won’t answer.”
“Then don’t.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me.”
The doctor knocked.
Rufus looked at her.
“Your choice.”
He meant it.
Dela stared at the door.
Her instinct screamed to hide.
But another thought came.
Warren did not want doctors asking questions.
Perhaps that was exactly why she should let one ask.
Dela nodded.
Rufus opened the door.
The physician introduced himself as Dr. Samuel Bell.
He was nearly sixty and looked more tired than dangerous.
After coffee, he examined Dela in the sleeping alcove while Rufus remained outside.
The doctor pressed gently along her ribs.
Dela winced.
“Three,” he said.
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“Three fractures. Healing, but poorly.”
She stared.
“How long ago?”
“Six weeks.”
“Fall?”
Dela hesitated.
The doctor saw the answer.
“Mrs. Marsh.”
“Dela.”
“Dela.”
He pulled his chair back.
“I’ve treated enough injuries to know the difference between falling down stairs and being thrown into something.”
Her eyes filled despite herself.
He did not reach for her.
“Did your husband do this?”
The question Warren had feared.
Dela stared at the canvas wall of the alcove.
“Yes.”
One word.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No thunder.
No door burst open.
The world did not end.
Dr. Bell simply nodded.
“All right.”
Dela blinked.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
He reached into his bag.
“I’m writing it down.”
Her fear returned.
“Why?”
“Because one day you may need someone besides yourself to say these injuries existed.”
The pencil moved across paper.
Date.
Condition.
Three healing rib fractures.
Bruising consistent with prior physical trauma.
Patient states husband caused injuries.
Dela watched each line appear.
Evidence.
A word Warren hated.
When the doctor finished, he tore off a duplicate page.
“One for you.”
She took it.
“Where will the other go?”
“With me.”
“Could Warren get it?”
“Not without convincing me.”
“You don’t know Warren.”
“No.”
Dr. Bell closed his bag.
“But I’ve known his kind.”
Dela looked toward the curtain.
“Rufus told you?”
“Rufus told me you’d been injured and hated doctors.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Another kindness without a price.
It was becoming unbearable.
Before the doctor left, he told Dela not to lift anything heavier than a kettle for several weeks.
Rufus overheard.
Naturally.
For the next two days he became impossible.
He carried water.
Wood.
Flour.
Dutch ovens.
At one point Dela reached for a basket of laundry and Rufus snatched it away.
“I’m injured, not dead.”
“Doctor said kettle.”
“This weighs less than a kettle.”
“No.”
“Rufus Conn, if you do not give me that basket—”
Bear watched them from beside the stove.
Rufus considered the laundry.
Then her expression.
He handed it over.
“Thank you.”
“But I’m carrying the water.”
“Fine.”
It was almost domestic.
The thought frightened Dela.
Then came the letter.
A rider from Timber Crossing delivered it four days later.
The envelope bore no sender.
Dela recognized the handwriting instantly.
Her hands began shaking before she opened it.
My dearest Delilah,
You have frightened me enough.
Whatever story you have told the mountain man sheltering you, I forgive you.
Return home voluntarily and this embarrassment ends quietly.
If you force me to come for you, other people may suffer from your selfishness.
You have always mistaken patience for weakness.
Do not make that mistake again.
Your husband,
Warren.
Rufus read the letter once.
Then again.
His face became terrifyingly still.
Dela whispered, “Now you understand.”
Rufus folded it carefully.
“Yes.”
“He’ll come.”
“Yes.”
“You should send me away.”
“No.”
“Rufus—”
He looked toward her.
“I’m done having that argument.”
“He threatened you.”
“He threatened ‘other people.’”
“That includes you.”
“Then he ought to have been more specific.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Dela stepped closer.
“You could die because of me.”
Rufus met her eyes.
“Could die falling off a horse.”
“That’s different.”
“Everything’s different if you stare long enough.”
She became angry because fear needed somewhere to go.
“I am not staying here while you pretend you’re indestructible.”
“Never said I was.”
“Then what exactly are you saying?”
Rufus placed Warren’s letter on the table.
“I’m saying a man doesn’t get to beat his wife, put a reward on her, send strangers after her, threaten people around her, and have everyone step aside because he has money.”
His voice remained quiet.
That made it stronger.
“He wants you scared enough to go back without a fight.”
Dela looked at the letter.
Rufus added, “Question is whether you still want to keep running.”
She hated the answer that came.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s honest.”
“What would you do?”
Rufus shook his head.
“Not my choice.”
“You always have an opinion.”
“Got plenty.”
“Then give me one.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Warren’s spent years deciding things for you.”
He met her eyes.
“I’m not taking his place.”
Dela could not breathe for a moment.
Then a strange thing happened.
She looked at Warren’s letter.
And for the first time, the fear was accompanied by something else.
Anger.
Small.
Unsteady.
But hers.
She picked up the letter.
“No more running tonight.”
Rufus nodded.
May you like
“Tonight’s enough.”
Neither of them knew then that two days later they would discover Warren Marsh had already begun the journey north.
