Something Blue

Chapter 11

In the end, Gabe had done the paying, and quite a lot of it, but the price was worth it even just for that first ride. Reaper was arrogant for sure. Some horses, Josh had confided in him, just weren't meant to be broken. "Some you have to just bend a little and hope for the best."

"Come on, then," he said when the horse snorted and tossed its head at him, dissatisfied with the paltry offering of the apple. "Let's go."

Reaper fidgeted impatiently as Gabe tossed the saddle on his back and cinched it down. Outside, he swung up into the saddle, settling with a sigh, his calves pressed against hard muscles. Reaper needed little encouragement to run. Gabe had only to give a gentle nudge with his right heel and then they were flying out into the breaking day, wind cutting through his hair. He rode hard, giving the horse the reins and letting the restless animal run out the energy that consumed them both. They started down the road that led out of town, and then turned east towards the mountains, riding hard over an open, grassy plain. The shallow, rocky river that wound through it gave Reaper no pause. Graceful and sure, he plowed through the icy water, sending up a plume that soaked Gabe's legs from the knee down.

The sun had only just risen over the distant hills, and the light was harsh and yellow, blinding him. He ought to have brought a hat. Hell, he ought to have brought something to eat. Something to drink. All he had were the clothes on his back and the six-gun he always carried, strapped to his thigh.

What would it be like to live like this? To be fully free? Even now, as he leaned low over Reaper's back and let the wind wash away the last of his restless agitation, he felt the pull of responsibility. He was too far from home. What if something happened? He was sure the last of the customers had departed, but what if someone came looking for more? What if the reverend came back for Katie and Isobel?

With a groan, he pulled Reaper to a snorting, disgruntled halt. The horse fidgeted and pranced beneath him, offering sullen looks over its shoulder as he debated with himself.

"Sorry, brother," he sighed, pressing one heel into the animal's side and tugging on the reins to wheel him around. "Time to head home."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

The words left his mouth the second he shut the door behind him. Isobel glanced up at him from the bed, eyes wide in shock at his language, and his surge of regret was quickly buried by the wave of frustration that had spurned the comment.

"I'm tidying up," Katherine said. She stood by the hearth with a dust rag in her hand, dressed in one of his shirts, which hung to mid thigh. Her messy hair was stacked on top of her head, and the expression on her face was one of innocent surprise. She would have looked like every dream he'd ever had, if not for the hunch in her shoulders and the colorful bruises that decorated every inch of her exposed skin. If not for her puffed up lower lip and her swollen, purple eye.

"You should be resting," he grated out, pointing at the abandoned bed. "If the mess was bothering you, you should have said something."

Katherine cringed, lowering her gaze to the floor and wringing the rag between delicate fingers. "It wasn't bothering me," she murmured. "I just wanted to help."

"I don't need help," he said, trying to cram his voice into the box of calm. She didn't answer, and he had to cross his arms over his chest to keep from rushing to her and pulling her to him. What few times he'd dared touched her since she begun to regain her strength, she had flinched away. No matter his instincts, the last thing she needed right now was his hands on her body. "Really, Kat. The room's not that big. I cleaned it myself just fine before you came around."