Loving Against the Grain (Into the West #2)

Chapter 14

 

He hated killing. He’d done plenty in his lifetime, both animals and humans; the stuff of nightmares, of which he had more than his share. It never got easier for him, though. During the War Noah’s commanding officer had told him that was how it should be: that every kill needed to feel like the first. That way, you never got used to it. There’d been plenty of men during combat that had grown to like the activity; had thrived on what they described as the thrill of power, the Godlike authority of life or death. The sight, smell and feel of someone’s or some thing’s life-blood oozing through their fingers, at their behest. But not Noah.

Noah loathed the taking of a life, and had wrestled hard with himself on the subject during and after the War. In fact, he fully believed his nightmares arose from that continuing inner struggle where he still had reached no satisfactory conclusion. Every man he’d killed, every animal he’d maimed, paraded through his subconscious, finding outlet in his dreams so that Noah paid the price for the victory of his chosen side. All men might now be free in this country, but Noah remained a slave to his conscience, to the lives he’d taken for liberating the many.

So, although putting the suffering, pained beast of burden out of its misery up on the mountain had been the humanitarian choice, not really a choice at all, actually, Noah still felt the weight of that decision, on top of all his previous guilt, resting heavily upon his shoulders. A sour taste marred the otherwise beautiful return walk through the forest; the taste of an executioner’s resolution flooding his mouth and mind. Add to that the total conviction that his wife had defied his directive to stay put, and Noah moved like a condemned man.

He’d taken too long up at the accident site; that was the problem, and the reason why Noah believed Emmie had disobeyed, but the mule he’d brought up there as replacement (dependable Abe) had spooked at the mercy gunshot. Noah had had to coax him into his fallen brother’s traces, though the smell of death had complicated the endeavor. Of course the wrangler’s efforts of persuasion had been rewarded with faulty compliance, but he knew without a doubt it was at the cost of his wife’s insufficient patience. Therefore, as he now approached the haul road, Noah veered off sharply toward the shortcut they usually took through the woods because, besides being impatient, Noah knew Emmaline Townsend Lawson lacked common sense, as well. She wasn’t dumb; just immature and headstrong.

The silence under the trees, cloaking him from the steady patter of tiny raindrops, cradled Noah in its peacefulness, tempting him to believe in happily-ever-afters that seemed too far out of reach at the present. While Emmie showed definite signs of improvement toward him in the manner of relying on him more, listening (a little) to his suggestions, and feeling at ease in his company, she still held him at arm’s length in her affection. She never allowed him past that prickly outer shell she’d constructed around her heart. And it stung. After all, Noah had fallen in love with his wife months ago. His feelings for her had only strengthened over time, increasing his heartache at the realization that he remained alone in the sentiment.

But when he passed close by their cabin, noting its darkened windows and cold chimney, he briefly heartened. Obviously Emmie hadn’t made it home yet. Maybe she had listened to him for the first time, and—

“Noah!”

He drew up sharply, head rising, eyes searching the surrounding woods.

Silence.

That definitely had been Emmie’s voice. Frantic. And straight ahead.

With thoughts tumbling half-formed and heart lodged firmly in his throat, Noah charged forward, gun clasped tightly in one hand, the other anchoring his hat upon his head throughout his pell-mell tilt through the trees. Jumping over fallen logs, brushing past branches clawing at him to slow him down, Noah took little time to ponder what he might find at the other end of that cry. Emmie screamed for him; he would be there. Enough said.