Free Lori Connelly by The Outlaw of Cedar Ridge Page A

insisted he still wanted to help but the sight of his ashen face finally pierced her emotional fog. She made him sit in her rocker.
    “I can help,” He protested but his voice lacked strength.
    Evie didn’t waste time being polite. “You’re about ready to collapse and if I have to stop and tend you, that doesn’t help.”
    Without waiting for a response, she stalked across the room to take the large basket off the wall. She set it in the middle of the table and started to fill it. Her cast iron pots and pans went in the bottom, the small amount of dishes they had next, a quilt used to layer and cushion around them. Evie then moved on to the dresser.
    In minutes, she’d emptied the drawers onto their bed. Her brush, soap and some clothes went into an old carpetbag that had been her mothers. Grief squeezed her chest, and she had to pause, take a deep breath before she could continue. She stuffed two pillowcases with sheets, towels and washcloths then stripped off the bedding, folded it all. Pillows in hand, blankets cradled in her arms, she headed to the wagon.
    “Can I help now?”
    Heading back inside, Evie paused in the doorway, studied Ben a few seconds. Some color had returned to his face. “All right let’s get the mattress.”
    Ben got to his feet and followed her across the room. They carried the straw stuffed pallet out and swung it up, into the wagon bed. He walked back into the cabin slow, sat back down heavy.
    “Let me catch my breath and I’ll help with the dresser.”
    “No need all the furniture except for my rocker came with the cabin and can stay.”
    “Oh,” Ben sounded stunned.
    “It’s easier to travel without much,” Evie pulled off the curtains and wrapped the lamp with them. “It’s why we brought so little with us.”
    “Why don’t we have more? Haven’t we lived here for years?”
    Evie shook her head, “Almost one.”
    “Almost one? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”
    “Why did we come here? Where did we live before?”
    Impatient, Evie sighed, loud. She picked up the basket and headed for the door. “Can we talk about this later?”
    “You say that a lot.”
    Frustration shaded with resentment filled her ears. It struck a cord. She paused, faced him. “I …  It’s hard to remember everything you don’t.”
    “It’s hard not to remember.”
    “And it’s hard to discuss some things.”
    “But you’re the only one who can answer my questions.”
    “After we’re done loading up,” she stifled a groan then stepped into the doorway. “I’ll answer some, I promise.”
    Evie didn’t wait for an answer. She carried her burden out to the wagon then returned. In minutes, she cleared the table, everything off the walls and from underneath the bed. Before she packed the special wooden box, she removed the loaded pistol and put it in her skirt pocket. Only her rocker remained. As Ben carried it outside to put it in the space she’d left open, she went back inside the cabin.
    In the center of the room, Evie stood and turned slowly around. Her gaze swept over every inch to ensure that she’d missed nothing. She hadn’t. Hours ago, the cabin had been a home. She shivered. Now it felt empty, barren.
    A blue jay perched on the wagon seat, chiding her with it’s song as Evie walked outside. For a second she stared at the annoying bird then looked around for Ben. He wasn’t hard to find, he’d wound up the clothesline with the clothes on it. She stalked over, snatched the stuff out of his arms then went back to the wagon, threw it in. The jay, startled, took flight.
    “What were you thinking?” Arms crossed over her chest, she swung around to glare at Ben.
    His breath audible, he reached her side, leaned against the wagon for support. “I wanted to be useful.”
    “You shouldn’t even be out of bed.”
    “Agreed.”
    Geared for a fight, his response left her nonplussed. She stared at him a moment then shook her head.