Free Bride of the Wild by Carré White

certain they were serious. I can’t recall her name.”
    “Word will get out, and those who need to know will hear about it.”
    “Let’s go down.” He looked uneasy. “We shouldn’t linger here.”
    Amelia had made tea, and, while I sat at the table and drank, Micah dragged the bear from the room, tossing it down the steps outside. Then he used a bucket of water to wash away the blood, although it had seeped through the cracks in the floor in places, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It would require a thorough scrubbing at a later date. When he had finished, he joined us for tea, looking weary and pale. I placed my hand over his, which startled him.
    “Thank you.”
    He squeezed my fingers, sighing. “It’s over now. We’ll wait until morning. Your father and brother will return then. Or I could go to town, if you wish, and get them now.”
    “No, you’ve done enough. It’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
    “I’ll bring blankets and pillows down,” said Amelia. “We’ll try to get some sleep. Do you think we can use the privy now? The bear’s dead, after all.”
    “I don’t see why not.” The strong, rough hand felt reassuring, and I had forgotten I held it, but my sister noted this, staring at me peculiarly. I sat straighter, folding my hands in my lap. I eyed Micah’s forehead. “You’re a sight. That wound needs to be stitched. It’s still bleeding.”
    “Do what you must.” He leaned into the chair, looking defeated and tired.
    “I’m going out,” said Amelia, stepping through the splintered kitchen door.
    “I’ll find my sewing kit.” I got to my feet, hurrying for the stairs, although I dreaded having to see Lucy again.
    It wasn’t long before I stitched together the jagged tear near Micah’s hairline and wrapped his head with gauze. After Amelia returned, we settled in the parlor, my sister taking the sofa, while Micah and I slept on the carpet. It wasn’t as comfortable as a bed, but with pillows and blankets, we would make due. I lay staring at the ceiling for long minutes, while listening to my mother’s clock ticking in pa’s study. I turned then, facing Micah, thinking he had gone to sleep, but his eyes were on me.
    “Will you sleep?” I whispered, as Amelia’s soft snores filled the room.
    “I will.”
    “I might need some brandy. I can’t stop thinking about what happened.” We spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Amelia.
    “Where’s the brandy?”
    “Over there.” I tossed the blanket aside, scrambling to my feet. “Pa saved it for special occasions.” Opening the door to the china cabinet, I grasped a darkly colored bottle. When I returned to the makeshift bed, I yanked out the stopper, lifting the bottle to my mouth. “Do you mind sharing? I don’t want to bother with a glass.”
    “I don’t care.” He eyed me, as I took a sip, the liquid burning a path all the way into my belly.
    I handed him the bottle. “Oh, that’s potent. Here.”
    He took a swig. “Thank you.”
    “I can’t remember ever being so frightened. Well, that’s not entirely true. We were attacked on the wagon train years ago, but even that wasn’t as awful as this. Or maybe it was.” I reached for the bottle, having a small sip.
    “What happened?”
    “It's not something I talk about very often.”
    “I’ve heard stories. I’ve seen things myself. I was a wagon train guide. Cholera struck us rather badly. Fourteen people died.”
    “Then you’ve seen it too.”
    “Seen what?”
    “Fear. Death. Sorrow.”
    “You can’t escape it, Saffron. It’s a part of life.”
    “I know, but I can’t help wondering if we had stayed east, we might not have seen so much of it.”
    “That’s the risk of coming here. Some travelers arrive without incident. It’s only the ones with troubles we hear about. Those are the stories the newspapers print. It’s always the bad news that’s interesting, unfortunately.”
    “Yes.”
    “What