I’m Not Worth Saving, She Said The Cowboy Had Other Plans

…

It was a look of trust that had been so completely shattered, it might never return.

Do you hear me, ma’am? No one is going to hurt you anymore.

Leave me, she whispered.

Just leave me here.

I cannot do that.

I said leave me, her voice cracked.

I am not worth the trouble.

Those words struck Caleb like a punch to the gut.

Not worth the trouble.

Someone had taught her to believe that.

Someone had beaten that idea into her soul right along with all the bruises.

Well, ma’am, I reckon that is not your decision to make right now.

He kept his voice low and steady the same way he talked to a spooked horse.

I am going to pick you up and put you on my horse.

It is going to hurt and I’m sorry for that, but I am not leaving you out here for the buzzards.

” She just stared at him for a long moment.

Then something inside her finally gave way, not in a bad way, but like a dam that had finally broken.

Tears started to cut clean paths through the dirt and blood on her face.

“They will come back,” she whispered.

They will come back and they will kill you too.

They can certainly try, he said.

He slid one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees.

When he lifted her, she let out a short, sharp scream that was cut off immediately, telling him she had a lot of practice swallowing her pain.

He held her against his chest and could feel her entire body shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

“I know it hurts,” he said quietly.

Just try to hold on.

Getting her onto Juniper was not easy.

She was barely conscious by the time he got into the saddle behind her.

He wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her steady.

Her head rested against his shoulder.

“What is your name?” he asked as they began to move slowly.

“Maggie,” she breathed out, and then she said nothing more.

The ride to Pine Ridge Ranch took almost an hour at the careful pace Caleb set.

Twice Maggie drifted back to consciousness.

Both times she started thrashing and crying out names he did not recognize.

And both times he held her tighter and spoke to her in a low, steady voice.

You are safe, Maggie.

Nobody’s going to get to you.

Just breathe.

Tom Whitfield saw them first.

The young ranch hand dropped the fence rail he was carrying and came running.

His face turned pale when he saw the woman in Caleb’s arms.

Good lord, boss.

What happened? I found her on the trail.

She has been beaten badly.

Go get Ruth.

Ruth is already at the house.

She brought some supper over.

Good.

Tell her to get the spare room ready.

She will need hot water, clean cloths, whatever she thinks is necessary.

Tom took off running toward the house.

By the time Caleb reached the porch, Ruth Callaway was already standing there in the doorway.

Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and her face had the determined look it always had when something needed to be done.

At 58 years old, Ruth had buried a husband, built a successful business, and survived more hardships than most men could ever handle.

Nothing ever seemed to rattle her.

But when Caleb carried Maggie through the door, even Ruth’s strong composure faltered.

Lord have mercy, she breathed.

Put her in the back room.

Be gentle.

I know, Ruth.

Her fingers are broken.

I can see that.

And those bruises are not all new.

Some of them are a week old, maybe even older.

I know.

Ruth’s jaw set firm.

Who did this to her? I do not know yet, he said.

She said they, so it was more than one.

He laid Maggie down on the bed as carefully as he had ever done anything in his life.

She moaned, her good eye fluttering open again.

“Where,” she started to ask.

“My ranch,” Caleb told her.

“You are safe here.

” Ruth moved to the side of the bed, her hands gentle but efficient, as she started to see how bad the damage was.

“Sweetheart, I need to check your ribs.

It is going to hurt.

You squeeze my hand if you need to.

” Maggie’s eyes darted back and forth between Ruth and Caleb, still full of fear.

“This is Ruth Callaway,” Caleb said.

“She runs the best kitchen in all of Elkbend, and she is tougher than anyone I know.

You’re in good hands with her.

” Ruth gave him a sharp look.

“Get out now.

I will be right outside the door.

You will be in the kitchen making yourself useful.

Boil more water and then send Tom for Dr.

Price.

Hannah is 30 mi away.

” Then Tom had better ride fast.

Ruth turned her attention back to Maggie, her voice immediately becoming softer.

Now, sweetheart, let us see what they did to you.

Caleb left the room, but he did not go far.

He stood in the hallway with his fists clenched, listening to Ruth’s soft, murmuring words, and Maggie’s occasional sharp gasp of pain.

Every sound of her suffering tightened a knot in his chest that he had spent three years trying to keep locked away.

He had left Kansas to get away from this very thing from violence and from broken people he could not save.

He left to escape the guilt of showing up too late.

And now all of it had found him again, right on his own trail.

Tom appeared at the end of the hallway holding his hat.

Boss, you want me to ride for Dr.

Price? Yes.

and push hard.

Tell her it is bad.

What happened to her? Someone tried to kill her, Tom.

That is what happened.

The young man’s face grew hard.

I will be back with the doctor by morning.

He started to leave, but then he stopped.

Should I tell the sheriff? Caleb thought for a moment.

Maggie’s words came back to him.

They will come back.

They will kill you, too.

Whoever did this to her, she was absolutely terrified of them.

Bringing Sheriff Yates into this before he knew the whole story might put her in even more danger.

No, not yet.

Just go get Hannah.

Tom nodded.

And then he was gone.

An hour later, Ruth came out of the bedroom.

She closed the door quietly behind her, and for the first time since Caleb had known her, she looked like she might start to cry.

How bad is it? He asked.

Four broken ribs, three broken fingers, and bruises all over her arms, her back, her legs.

Her lip is split and needs stitches, but I did the best I could.

As for that left eye, I do not know if she will ever be able to see properly out of it again.

Ruth paused.

And the old bruises, Caleb, she has been beaten before many times.

This was not the first time.

I figured as much.

There is something else, Ruth said, lowering her voice.

She has rope burns on her wrists.

They tied her up before they did this.

Caleb’s hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white.

He turned away from her and stared at the wall, his jaw working back and forth.

“Did she say anything?” he asked.

“A name? Douglas.

” She kept saying, “Douglas, please stop.

” over and over again.

Ruth wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Caleb, whoever this Douglas is, that woman is terrified of him down to her very bones.

This was not some robbery that went wrong.

This was personal.

Her husband, Caleb said, that would be my guess.

The way she said the name, that is not how you say a stranger’s name.

That is how you beg someone you once loved to stop hurting you.

The silence that hung between them was heavy.

She can put down roots here for as long as she needs.

Caleb said, “Of course she can.

” But Ruth gave him a look that could stop a clock.

She said, “If the folks who did this to her come calling, do you understand what that’ll mean for you? For this whole ranch? I know full well what it means.

But do you? Because three years back you came up to Montana to leave trouble behind.

You told me straight you were through with guns and done with fighting.

Reckon I was wrong about that.

Ruth watched him for a good long while, then gave a slow nod.

Good, because that girl in there is going to need a man who will stand his ground.

She turned toward the kitchen.

I’m fixing to make some broth.

She’ll need something when she comes, too.

Maggie came too in the pitch black.

For one awful second, she was right back in that wagon, her hands bound tight, listening to Virgil Kane’s ice cold voice, saying they were headed someplace nobody would ever find a body.

Then a sharp, real pain brought her back, and she remembered the trail, the cowboy, and his arms scooping her up.

She was lying in a proper bed under clean sheets and a quilt that smelled of lavender and cedar wood.

Moonlight streamed through a window showing a plain room with wooden walls, a dresser, and a chair.

And sitting in that chair was the cowboy Caleb.

He was fast asleep, his head slumped on his chest, a rifle resting across his lap.

He was standing guard over her.

The thought hit her so hard it nearly brought on a fresh wave of tears.

She pressed her good hand to her mouth to stay quiet.

But a little sound slipped out anyway, a choked little noise that was caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Caleb’s eyes flew open in an instant.

His hand tightened on the rifle before he saw her awake and looking at him.

“You’re with us again?” he said, his voice low.

“How are you feeling?” “Why are you in here?” she asked, sidestepping his question.

“Figured someone ought to keep watch.

” “You don’t even know who I am.

don’t have to.

You don’t know the things I’ve done.

What they claim I’ve done.

Caleb leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees.

All right, then.

What is it they claim you’ve done? Maggie turned her face away.

The moonlight glinted on the wet tracks down her cheeks.

My husband, Douglas Kulton.

He’s a big merchant down in Missouri.

He she trailed off then started over.

He’s been selling bad whiskey on the reservations, poisoning people for money.

I found his books with all the dates, the names, how much, everything.

And you called him on it.

A harsh, bitter laugh scraped its way out of her throat.

I was fool enough to think he might actually stop, that he’d pay mine to me, his own wife.

What did he do? He broke my arm.

That was the start of it.

She said it plain, like she was talking about the weather.

After that, anytime I brought it up, there was a price, a black eye, maybe a cracked rib.

He told me if I ever spoke a word to anybody, he would swear I was his partner in it.

That I helped him.

He said no court in the land would believe a wife over her own husband.

So you ran.

I took the books, made copies of every last page.

I was aiming to get them to the federal marshall in Helena.

Her voice cracked.

I was so close.

Two days out of Missouri, his hired men ran me down.

Virgil Kaine and another man I didn’t get a look at.

They took the books, worked me over good, and threw me in a wagon.

She went quiet and they left you for dead on the trail.

Caleb finished for her.

Virgil was all for shooting me right there.

The other one said Douglas wanted me alive.

They had a real goaround about it.

Then Virgil hit me again and I didn’t hear much after that.

She gently touched her swollen eye.

When I woke up, I was laying in the dirt.

They were long gone.

I just figured Virgil won the argument, but decided not to waste a good bullet.

Caleb was silent for a long spell.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was a deep anger moving under it, like a flood water you can’t see.

Your husband sent men to kill you all over some account books and money.

That whiskey business brings in thousands of dollars.

If those books get to the marshall, Douglas loses it all.

His business, his name, his freedom.

She turned to look him square in the eye.

That’s exactly why you have to let me go.

The minute I can stand, I’ve got to vanish.

If Douglas learns you helped me, then let him learn it.

You don’t get it.

He’s got money and he knows people.

And Virgil Cain is, she shuddered.

Virgil isn’t a man who just takes his orders.

He savors his work.

You saw what he did to me and he was holding back then.

I’ve known men like Virgil Cain before.

Not like him.

No.

She pushed herself up with her good arm, wincing from the pain.

Mr.

Mercer, I am trying to save your life.

Why can’t you see that? because I spent three years paying mind to that voice that told me to stay out of other people’s fights.

He held her gaze.

The last time I listened to that voice, a whole family in Kansas wound up dead because I was too slow.

I’m not making that mistake twice.

The weight of his words settled in the space between them.

What happened in Kansas? Maggie asked, her voice soft.

That’s a story for another time.

He stood up and leaned the rifle against the wall.

You need your rest.

Dr.

Price should be here come morning.

She’s a good one.

Best there is.

She’s a woman doctor and the only kind you’d want.

He walked toward the door.

There’s water on that table next to you.

Ruth left some broth on the stove to keep warm.

Are you hungry? Maggie shook her head, then had a second thought.

Maybe just a little bit.

When he came back with the broth, she saw his hands.

They were big and calloused from ranch work, but they were steady and gentle as he held the cup for her.

She couldn’t use her broken fingers, and taking his help meant letting him get close, closer than any man had been since Douglas.

She flinched when his hand brushed against hers.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t you ever apologize for that.

Ever.

” She took slow sips of the broth, peeking at him over the top of the cup.

You’re not what I was expecting.

What were you expecting? I don’t know.

Not this.

Not.

She was searching for the word kindness.

A shadow of something passed over his face.

Maybe it was pain.

Or maybe he just recognized it.

Kindness isn’t some special thing, Maggie.

It’s supposed to be the way of things.

Somebody just taught you wrong.

She put the cup down and looked at him.

I mean, she really looked at him for the first time.

He had brown eyes, warm but carrying their own troubles, a faint scar on his chin, lines around his mouth that looked like they came from set in his jaw one too many times.

This was a man who was carrying his own burdens.

You lost somebody, she said.

It wasn’t a question.

Get some rest, Maggie.

Caleb.

He paused at the door.

Thank you for not just riding on by.

He was quiet for a beat.

Riding by wasn’t an option, he said.

Then he pulled the door nearly shut, leaving it open just a crack, and sat back down in the hallway chair.

Maggie laid there in the dark, listening to the sounds of the ranch, the crickets chirping, a horse moving around in the barn, the old house groaning as it settled.

For the first time in months, she wasn’t listening for heavy footsteps.

She wasn’t planning her next escape.

She wasn’t bracing herself for a hit.

She was just lying in a clean bed in a house full of strangers aching all over with a man she’d just met sitting guard outside her door with a rifle on his lap.

It wasn’t safety.

Not yet.

She’d learned the hard way that safety was a pretty lie men told you right before they broke you.

But it was something.

Caleb didn’t get a wink of sleep.

He sat in that hallway chair until the first hint of dawn graed the windows with that rifle across his lap listening to every little sound.

Twice he heard Maggie cry out in her sleep.

They were short, sharp noises that sliced through the quiet house like a throne knife.

Both times he squeezed the rifle stock so hard his knuckles turned white.

But he didn’t go in there.

She didn’t need another man busting through her door when she hadn’t asked him to.

She needed to know the door would stay shut until she was the one who decided to open it.

At first light, Ruth came in with a basket of fresh biscuits and a look on her face that said she hadn’t slept much either.

How is she? Ruth asked, setting the basket on the kitchen table.

She woke up once, had a little broth.

She’s scared, Ruth.

Scared in a way that goes clear down to the bone.

Did she tell you what happened? It was her husband, a merchant from Missouri named Douglas Colultton.

She found out he was selling bad whiskey to the reservations.

When she tried to make him stop, he turned on her, sent his men out to put her in the ground.

Ruth’s hand froze on the biscuit basket.

Her own husband.

She had proof.

Account books that showed everything.

His men got him back.

So now she’s got nothing.

She’s got nothing.

And he has every reason in the world to make sure she never talks.

Ruth sat down across the table from him, and the pity in her eyes turned into something much harder.

Caleb, if this man has the kind of money and pull she’s talking about, this whole valley ain’t big enough to hide her.

Sooner or later, someone’s going to come around asking questions.

I know, and you know what’ll happen to people who stand in the way of a man with power and his desires.

I told her, “I am aware, Ruth.

” She looked him square in the eye.

What is your plan for the immediate future? My first job is to keep her breathing.

Then I will get Hannah over here to mend what is beyond me.

After that happens, he scratched the nape of his neck.

She has to have those account books.

With no real proof, it is just what she says against what he says.

And she is not wrong.

No judge is going to believe a wife over her own husband.

Not without something solid to show for it.

You are talking about facing down a man who has already made an attempt on her life.

I am talking about doing the right thing.

Ruth did not say a word for a little while.

Then she laid her hand on top of his from across the table.

You are a lot like my Henry was.

May he rest in peace.

He had that same hard-headed nature.

The same darn fool notion that a single good man could take on the whole world.

Did things go well for Henry? He was shot down in his own barn over a dispute about water.

Ruth’s voice did not waver, but her eyes shone.

But he passed on knowing he never once refused to help a soul in need.

And I have never, not for a moment, felt anything but pride for him.

She gave his hand a firm squeeze.

You go on and do what you feel you have to.

I will make sure that girl stays nourished and alive.

A noise from the other end of the house caused them both to look up.

Maggie was standing there in the hall, propped up against the wall, and using her good hand to hold on to the door’s edge.

She was white as a sheet and unsteady on her feet, but the one eye she could open burned with fire.

“I heard what y’all were saying,” she spoke about those account books.

“You belong in bed,” Caleb insisted.

“I belong in a grave,” she shuffled a step closer.

But I am not, and I have something both of you need to listen to.

” Ruth got up to help her, but Maggie raised her injured hand to stop her.

It was a small movement, but it clearly cost her.

The books his men stole.

Those were not the real ones.

A faint smile touched her bruised lips.

“I am the daughter of a banker, Mr.

Mercer.

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