Captive Romance

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Rebecca found a large boulder several hundred yards behind the cabin and sat herself down upon it. She was ashamed by the tears she had allowed to fall in front of Brantley—tears that were still streaming down her damp cheeks.

As Rebecca swiped at them, she thought about her family. It was thoughts of them that had caused the tears. Brantley's words, while somewhat harsh, were the same words and assumptions she'd heard plenty of times since becoming Martin's wife—Rebecca was quite used to them. They certainly wouldn't be enough to cause her to weep, but, thoughts of her mother, her father and her brothers? Those nearly always brought painful emotions.

She found herself wondering about them. Her brothers would now be grown, strong, young men. Did that mean her mother was finally able to rest? Were her brothers married? Had they found love? Was her mother happy?

Rebecca longed to reach out to them. It had been eight long years since she'd seen or spoken to her family. Guilt tore at her. She hadn't meant to abandon them. Martin had always seemed to take offense when she'd spoken of them or her desire to see them. He had felt her new life should be enough to sustain her. To him, any mention of her past or her desire to see her family was a slap in the face of all he had given her.

If Rebecca lived through this ordeal and made it back to that ranch, that was going to change. She would be going on a trip to visit her family and Martin would simply have to accept that.

As the darkness grew around her, Rebecca knew she should return to the cabin. It surprised her that Brantley trusted her enough to give her this space. Or maybe trust had nothing to do with it. Perhaps he didn't care enough about her or her situation to have any concern with what she did.

With a final sniffle, Rebecca wiped her face clean once more and pushed herself to her feet. Returning to the porch, Rebecca found Brantley sitting exactly where she had left him.

He seemed to be deep in thought as he stared off into the distance and his cigarette glowed orange in the darkness. Rebecca decided to leave him be. She stepped past him and was nearly to the door when his deep, strong voice filled the quiet.

"I never knew my father. He died before I ever got a chance to know him. My mama was a damn good woman—the best human I've ever known. I loved her and respected her and it damn near killed me when she died of fever when I was eleven years old. Some men found me, they were going to kill me and I was saved at the last minute by Hoff. We've been riding together since that day. I've saved him several times, he's saved me. We've had each other's backs. I don't always agree with what he does. Hell, I don't even take part in most of what he does, but he's the closest thing to family that I have left so... that's why I'm with these people."

Rebecca had no real idea what to say and so she said nothing. She felt that kinship with Brantley grow. They were both people who had lost something and tried hard to make the best out of the life that had followed. They'd both been placed on paths by events completely out of their control.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself and Brantley tipped his head. "There's a thing you know now," he stated. "Get some sleep, Rebecca. Maybe tomorrow you'll be sleeping at home."

***

Rebecca lay in her tiny brass bed, tossing and turning upon the lumpy mattress. Sleep proved elusive and her frustration with seeking it grew.

Rising from the bed, Rebecca slipped out of the tiny room and stood in the moonlight shining through one of the cabin's small windows. She glanced around the small cabin interior but didn't see Brantley anywhere. Where did the man sleep?

She heard a masculine groan from outside the open cabin door. Was he still on the porch? Rebecca stepped out the door and saw Brantley curled up on his spread out bedroll on the worn wooden planks.

She simply studied him a moment. The man was fascinating to look at. His sharp features, dark tousled hair and lithe frame seemed to consistently catch and hold her attention.

Brantley moaned again and his jaw tightened as he thrashed a bit upon the rough blanket. Rebecca frowned. It was as if the man was battling some unseen opponent. His moaning and thrashing began to increase in intensity.

Rebecca knew better than to attempt to get close and rouse him. Men lost in bad dreams could often be dangerous upon awakening. She glanced to the left, saw the broom sitting beside the door and grabbed it.

Holding the whiskered end, Rebecca jabbed poked at his calf. "Brantley? Wake up."

Those intense green eyes flew open and instantly found hers. Rebecca felt her body heat under his hungry gaze. She trembled as warmth filled her core.

Brantley sat up and held out his arm, hooking his finger. His deep voice was rough—though Rebecca sensed it wasn't sleepiness that had the gruffness there. "Come here."