Harmony (Journey's End Book 3) Page 7

  When the water was hot, he handed Harmony a clean cloth. “Bathe your hands and face,” he said. He wriggled out of his shirt and examined the knife wound in his shoulder. It was a clean cut and should heal without a problem, but it ached and sharp pain ripped down his chest when he moved his left arm. He cleaned the wound with care. The man probably used the knife for everything from chopping potatoes to skinning a deer. He picked up the bottle of whiskey he’d found in the shed. “I’ve got to disinfect our wounds. We can’t risk infection.” He tipped the bottle and soaked a cloth. “This is going to sting.” He wiped the scrapes and bruises on her face and the abrasions on her wrists.

  Harmony sucked in a surprised breath but remained still.

  “Good girl,” Matt praised her. “Now pour some of it where the knife got me.” He leaned back and waited until the cool liquid penetrated into the open wound. He gave a hiss of his own and waited for the burning to stop.

  “What was he cooking?” Matt asked.

  “Stew,” she answered, “and he has cornbread.”

  Bowls and a few utensils were stored on a shelf over the sink. Matt filled them with the venison stew while Harmony sliced the cornbread. They ate without speaking until the worst of their hunger was satisfied. Then they slowed the pace until their stomachs were well and truly full.

  Matt poured whiskey into two cups and offered one to Harmony.

  “I’ve never had whiskey before.” She gave the liquid a suspicious stare.

  “Just take a small sip at a time. I reckon a fella gets used to the burn. Looks forward to it. I remember my first taste was a surprise. But it will take the edge off the day, help you relax, and sleep.”

  Harmony brought the cup to her lips and sipped. Her face scrunched up like she’d just bit into a sour apple. Matt laughed and tension drained like thick maple syrup from his limbs. They were alive. He would get her out of the mountains. It was enough – more than enough – for now.

  “I’m going to bank the fire for the night,” Matt said. “There’s a chamber pot next to the bed. It’s too cold for you to go out, but I’m going to step out for a minute.”

  When he returned, he looked at the bed. “We’ve been cuddled up for many nights. It’s the same here only we’ll be warmer and comfortable. Don’t worry. I’ll be a gentleman.”

  He took the quilt she’d been huddled in and laid it over the bed and lifted the covers. “In you go.”

  She slid between the rough sheets with a sigh. Matt joined her and pulled her close. He patted her thigh.

  “My ma always said all’s well that ends well, and I guess that’s true enough, but you’ll tell me in the morning how this happened. How you were on the ground and fair game for a mountain man.” He frowned. “It better be a damn good explanation, Harmony.” His voice held warning.

  “Damned good.”

  Chapter 7

  Harmony lay with closed eyes and listened to the storm. The wind howled like a homeless ghost, shook the door and window, battered at the walls, and whistled down the chimney. She’d awoken during the night to the desperate keening, but Matt’s big body had surrounded her with warmth and comfort. When she’d snuggled her bottom into him, he’d wrapped a strong arm around, tugged her close, and she’d returned to exhausted sleep.

  She patted the other side of the bed, but she already knew from the absence of heat that he had left the bed. Her eyes peeked open. Matt sat at the table with a cup of coffee nestled between his hands; his gray eyes were fixed on the bed, watching, waiting. When he realized she was awake, those eyes danced with pleasure.

  “Morning, darlin’,” he said, “or afternoon. You were plumb tuckered out.”

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “It’s hard to tell. The sun can’t break through the storm, but I’d say mid-afternoon. You needed your rest. We’ve been pushing hard for days without enough food, and then yesterday was a trial all by itself.” He frowned. “We’ll discuss that later.”

  “I need the chamber pot,” Harmony whispered.

  “It’s there at the end of the bed,” Matt said. “I’ll turn my back. It’s far below freezing outside, so we’d best avoid going out if we can.” He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “All right.” Harmony adjusted her chemise before throwing the covers back. Placing the chamber pot between her legs, she squatted and let her water flow. She flinched. The sound as her stream hit the bottom echoed around the room. At home in Chicago, she had an entire room to herself to take care of her business in private. For the most part, people there ignored the fact that they had bodies with needs as much as they could. Her face flamed at the intimacy.

  “Please stay turned around. I’m going to dress.” The pile of clothes the mountain man had stripped from her still lay in a disgraceful pile on the floor. She couldn’t bear to put them on. They were dirty, defiled. Tears rose unbidden and spilled.

  At the sounds of her distress, Matt turned. “Oh, darlin’,” he sighed. He was at her side in two long strides and scooped her into his arms. A large chair sat close to the fire, and Matt sat and settled her into his lap. He rocked back and forth, stroking her hair, patting her back, settling her close to his chest until she was enfolded in his heat.

  “I can’t wear those clothes.” She gulped around a large knot occupying her throat.

  “That’s fine,” Matt soothed. “I think you had more of Nan’s clothes in your pack.”

  She’d forgotten that, but the reminder was like the first ray of sun after rain. “You’re right.”

  “We’re not leaving this cabin until the storm passes. Could be days, and I can keep the room warm. You don’t need those long johns in here anyway,” he assured her.

  “I’ll get dressed later,” she whispered. “I’d like to sit here with you for a bit.”

  He settled more deeply into the chair. “I like that fine.”

  Matt continued to push the chair with his foot as she burrowed into his chest. She felt safe, protected, loved. She rolled that idea around in her mind for a while, and it sat in her brain like fresh flowers in the kitchen window.

  “Hungry?” Matt’s voice was hot and low in her ear.

  “Yes.” Harmony’s stomach responded with a growl.

  He laughed. “You get dressed. I’ll make breakfast. Then we’ll wash and treat your bruises. You might be a bit sore today. I’d bet a year’s pay you never been beat up before. We’ll rest today.”

  “You’re right about that.” She felt the side of her face. It was tender and sore. Her back ached, too. Maybe from when she’d fallen from the tree or when she’d flown from his fist, and her shoulders hurt from her arms being stretched over her head as she’d hung from the nail. She shut her eyes tight as the memories of fear and pain flashed like pictures through her brain.

  When the image of the knife in Matt’s shoulder appeared, she turned her face up to his. “How is your shoulder?” she asked.

  “Well, it aches,” he admitted. “I poured more whiskey on it already. There’s no sign of infection, no redness. Infection is the real enemy of a wound like that. I’ll keep a close eye for a few days, but I should heal up just fine.”

  Matt stood her on her feet and laid a friendly swat on her bottom. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “Keeping my hands off you is hard enough, but that little slip of a thing is driving me crazy.”

  Harmony felt hot blood rush to her face. She liked driving him crazy. It was a new and heady idea. She dug through the pack and found clean drawers, a simple flowered skirt and a hand-knitted sweater. In Chicago, she wouldn’t be caught dead in such garments, but she was grateful, and they seemed right for here.

  She wiped a tear that trailed down her face. Poor Nan lay frozen in the baggage car of the train. Without Matt, she would be beside her in death. He’d saved her. Continued to save her. Harmony pulled the sweater over her head and rubbed her hands over the soft wool.

  Matt stood at the stove, pushing bacon this way and that. He cracked eggs ont
o the hot surface and flipped them over after a minute or two. She admired his ability, and he was handsome. Handsome in a way that sent shivers and sparks up and down her spine. Harmony buttoned the skirt and watched the muscles in his back shift and ripple under his shirt as he worked the spatula on top of the black stove.

  “Come and get it,” Matt called. He set two plates on the table.

  “Eggs?” she asked.

  “He’s got four chickens in a little coop.” He pointed at the passageway. “We’ll need to eat them before we go.” He frowned. “It’s kinder than leaving them here to starve. They’d never survive on their own.”

  Harmony nodded. She’d never considered food before except to decide what she liked and didn’t like. Grandmama had a cook. Wagons appeared daily at their back door with vegetables, milk, meat.

  “Will you teach me to cook?”

  Matt’s eyes rested on her face, patient and kind. “You can’t cook?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, that will give us something to do,” he laughed. “I don’t know much, but I can make pancakes, fry up meat and potatoes, and I make a mean biscuit.”

  They ate in friendly silence. When they had scraped the last crumb with the back of their forks, Matt carried the plates to the sink. He pumped water into a pot and set it to heat.

  “Coffee?” he carried a pot to the table.

  “Yes, thank you.” Harmony reached for the cup.

  Matt pushed a container across the table. “He even has sugar.” Matt pursed his lips. “I wished I hadn’t had to kill him,” he said. “But he wasn’t going to let you go, and I couldn’t leave you here. He would have beat you and worse.” He shook his head from side to side in a sad, slow rhythm. “I reckon it was him or me.”

  “I’m sorry, Matt. If I’d done what you asked, none of this would have happened,” she cried.

  “I expect you’re right about that. Tell me, Harmony,” he ordered. “Tell me what happened yesterday while I was hunting.”

  “Well.” She twisted her hands together. Her knuckles were a bloodless white. “You left me in the tree.”

  “Yes, I remember that part. Why didn’t you stay there?”

  “I did,” she said.

  His eyebrows shot high.

  “For a long time, I did.” She defended her statement. “But then I needed to relieve myself. I watched for you and hoped you would get back in time, but after a good bit I realized I couldn’t wait.” She blushed. “I couldn’t just wet myself.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Why not?” she repeated. “My clothes would be wet.” She stared at his stony face. “Matt, it would be uncomfortable, embarrassing.” She lifted her hands and let them fall to the table.

  “As uncomfortable as being beaten, dragged through the snow, stripped and hung from a nail?” His voice was hard and angry, and his mouth was set in a straight line of disapproval. “What was the worst that could happen if you’d stayed in the tree as I’d asked? We wash your clothes? You change them? You wear soiled clothes for a bit? Or you get kidnapped by a brutal mountain man who aimed to train you to be afraid? Who would have raped you? Kept you prisoner? Answer me, Harmony, what was the worst that could happen?” He slapped the table, and she jumped.

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

  “Tell me the rest. You decided to leave your perch,” he coaxed.

  “Yes, I decided to come down and then wait for you by the trunk of the tree. It had been quite a while. I thought you’d be back soon.” She took a quick peek at his stern face and saw a vein throbbing with angry intent at the side of his temple. “I dropped from the lowest limb and landed hard in the snow. I didn’t want to spoil the snow where I planned to wait for you, so I walked to another tree and just as I finished relieving myself, a hand gripped my arm. Gripped it in a fierce hold, and it hurt. I screamed. I tried to pull his hand away. He got mad and he pulled his arm back like this.” She pulled her arm across her chest and then let it fly forward. “He struck me here on the right side on my face.” Harmony laid her palm against her bruised skin.

  “He backhanded you,” Matt said. “That’s what it’s called.”

  “I continued to fight and yell and call for you. He let go of my arm, and for a moment I thought I’d won. I thought he might go on his way. But he pulled his arm back like this.” She bent her elbow straight back and let it lose across and in front of her body. “His fist hit my chin. That’s the last I remember. When I came to, I was in this cabin.”

  “He cold-cocked you. We’re lucky he didn’t break your jaw.” Matthew ground his teeth. “Then what?”

  “I woke up and my face was on fire.” Harmony felt the lower part of her face with the tips of her fingers. “I screamed and screamed. I told him you would come for me. He took a dirty handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in my mouth. He said to take off my clothes. When I shook my head no, he pulled his arm back again, and I knew he would hit me. Hit me until I did what he said. I was so frightened, Matt. I took off my clothes down to my chemise. Then he tied my hands together and put the rope over the nail. It wasn’t too long before you came.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks and soaked the front of her blouse. Her shoulders shook in her distress. “Oh Matt, thank you. You have saved me over and over. The train, the bear, and now this.”

  Matt moved around the table. He lifted her from her chair, sat himself, and placed her on his lap. His arms held her tight, and she relished his warm security. She cried on and on.

  “Drink.” Matt held her coffee cup to her lips. “You’re going to dehydrate. It’s easy to do at this altitude. We’re safe here. We can ride out this storm in comfort. Honestly, if we were out in the open, I don’t know if we would have survived. It’s is one hell of a storm out there.”

  Exhaustion crept through Harmony’s body like a heavy fog. She let her body sink beneath the surface.

  “Stay awake for a bit, Harmony. We need to talk.” Matt adjusted her in his arms until he could see into her pale blue eyes.

  “I love you, girl. I don’t fool myself none. I don’t expect you share those feelings, but when I found that empty tree and saw a man’s footprints and blood in the snow. My heart failed me. I’ve never been so frightened,” Matt began.

  Harmony patted his chest with a small hand. “I love you, too, Matt. I do.”

  “I’m just a small-town sheriff, darlin’. You’ve been raised to expect more. I can’t give you fancy clothes or museums or opera. We have an occasional barn dance or a Sunday Social. The folks of Ford, Oregon are good people, kind and honest, but they’re not fancy or cultured, just hard-working and mostly good-natured.”

  “I don’t want to return to Chicago. It was an easy life in many ways, but I don’t want it. I’m sorry I’ve caused us all this trouble, but I promise I’ll do better,” she pled.

  She laid her head on his chest and listened to the comfort of his heartbeat. The storm raged like a wounded beast outside, but here, in Matt’s arms, she was safe.

  He lifted her from his lap and sat her on the chair before arranging another one to face her.

  “I got some things to say, Harmony. They’re important.” He paused to gather a deep breath. “I love you. I’d be about the happiest man alive if you’d marry me. We don’t have to worry about money. I’ve got some, and I’ve got a house in Ford. I’ve got a job. It wouldn’t be a fancy life, but I’d cherish and protect you. I swear it.”

  She saw a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. That speech had been a labor – a labor of love. She placed the palm of her hand on his whiskered cheek. “I will. I’ll marry you.”

  He whooped once and again for good measure before scooping her from her solitary chair and placing her back on his lap. She snuggled close. She wanted to smile, but her jaw hurt too much, so she beamed her happiness with her eyes.

  “As soon as the storm lifts, we can head for Franklin again. We’ll have plenty of supplies, and we’re not far. I don’t think there’ll be a
ny more trouble.” He patted her back and made a little humming sound in his throat. “Do you remember when I spanked you?” he asked.

  “I do. It hurt.” Harmony wiggled at the memory.

  “Yes, spanking hurts,” he agreed. “I spanked you because I didn’t know what kind of trouble we’d run into. I needed your blind obedience, but I don’t want that now. You’re going to be my wife, and your health and safety means the world to me. When I spank you now, it will be out of love and concern. I need you to know the difference.”

  “You’re going to spank me again?” Her voice rose high in question.

  “Well, yes, men spank their wives now and again if they love them,” he said.

  “Does Mitch spank Melody?”

  “It’s private between a man and his woman, but I’m sure he does.” He laughed. “Your sister is a sassy gal. I’m sure she gets her bottom warmed.”

  Harmony sat quiet.

  Matt hurried on. “I’d never beat you. Never take my fists to you. Never.” He caressed her bruised face. “That’s what this was. I wasn’t going to spank you for coming down from the tree. We’re almost to safety, and I thought you’d be done with me. I had my hopes, of course. A man only disciplines the woman he loves.” He gave her a squeeze. “As my wife, I can’t let it pass. You disobeyed me. When I tell you to do something for your health or safety, you have to follow it to the letter. I can’t protect you otherwise, and that’s my job.”

  Harmony sat as still as the sun at high noon and gave the matter serious thought. She hadn’t liked that spanking. No, not one little bit. Really, she’d thought he was being a bit of a bully. The bear hadn’t actually attacked them. Not that she deserved any of the credit for that piece of luck. Now that they loved one another, planned to marry, she did understand. Men in Chicago did not spank their wives, but she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced of that either. She didn’t know husbands spanked their wives anywhere. She could not picture Jerome caring enough to exert himself enough to spank her. Frown, yes. Spank, no. Matt did care enough. He’d sheltered and protected her since Denver, and he would continue. He wanted her agreement that she would allow it, understand it, learn from it.