Captive Romance

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay in updates! I am in a weird head space the last few months and writing just hasn't been giving me the joy it once did. But I'm trying! I hope you enjoy the chapter

Chapter Eighteen

Rebecca spent much of the next week alone and barricaded inside her bedroom attempting to mend her broken heart and mangled hand. During that time, Rebecca had thought about her options.

If she left Martin, she would have nothing. No money and no home. She knew no special skills with which to make a living. She was no exceptional cook and her sewing skills were average. She could attempt to get a job in a hotel or the mill in town, at least until she made enough money to travel back east on and return to her family.

Rebecca decided she would clean herself up, get dressed and go into town to see what kind of work was available. She would have to find someone to take her, however, since she couldn't ride a horse....

An image of Felix flashed through her mind. His dark, heavily wrinkled skin crinkling as he smiled at her and showed her so much warmth and kindness that night that seemed so long ago. She remembered the vow she had made to herself to get to know the people she had lived amongst and yet been segregated from for so long.

As Rebecca cleaned up and slid into fresh clothes, her mind was racing. Before she left Martin's home for good and ventured out on her own, Rebecca would do all the things she had longed to do since coming to the ranch.

She would get to know the workers, learn to saddle and ride a horse. Hook up and drive a cart. She would practice her cooking and cleaning skills around the house and learn to muck out stalls and care for the animals.

Rebecca would take full advantage of her situation and soak in every ounce of knowledge she could to prepare for life in the world. Deciding that she would begin her studies by finding Tillie, Rebecca left her room and headed down the carpeted hall.

She heard the murmur of voices from inside Martin's study and paused to eavesdrop on the conversation. "You are my oldest and dearest friends and I am truly hoping I can count on your discretion and silence."

Rebecca knew Martin must be speaking to Horace and Lester, but why was he requesting their silence? And what was that silence regarding?

"Has she left her room at all, Martin?" Horace questioned.

"Not to speak to me."

"And after what she's went through, can you blame the poor woman?"Lester demanded.

Annoyance was plain to hear in Martin's voice when he responded. "I am hopeful that if I allow her space, her anger will fade. She has nothing but the word of a murdering outlaw telling her I refused his payment. It is my hope that I can convince her that is a lie."

Rebecca rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. Hoff might be a murdering, no-good, snake in the grass and Rebecca might want him dead with a passion, but, she trusted his word one hundred times more than her husband's.

"But it's not a lie," Horace stated and Rebecca could hear the judgment in his tone. "How could you do that, Martin? How could you leave your wife in the hands of those men simply to save yourself a few dollars?"

"I assumed my wife was already dead and they were simply attempting to take my money," Martin replied. "And, unlike your wives who gave you both children to call your own, Rebecca is quite useless in that regard. She is a pleasant woman, she is beautiful and looks quite pleasing on my arm, but I paid a good deal to her family for her hand in marriage and wasn't in any hurry to pay for a barren wife twice."