Page 162 of Deadwood
Bowen seemed to have changed that day, seeing me in a new light. One so bright that his eyes had opened to a whole new possibility between us. One I hadn’t considered myself, but welcomed willingly. Through all the bickering and slight disdain for each other, Bowen had grown on me.
I crossed the room, trailing a finger up the smooth sheet covering his bed. My hand reached his pillow and paused, tracing where his head might lie when he rests. When his mind finally let its guard down for a short period of time to wonder up dreams he wished were reachable, or possibly nightmares that anchored him during the day, keeping his defensive mood on strike at all times. Perhaps he’d thought of me at times while his bed comforted his tired body, imagining me beside him, like I’d let my mind wander to a time or two before.
But not in this life could that happen.
A perfect circle of moisture dropped to the fabric, and I swiped a hand under my eye to find it was a tear. Wiping my cheeks dry, my fingers trailed to the necklace resting over my collarbone, fiddling with the charm, like it might bring me some sense of hope that there was a good outcome after all of this.
But my hope didn’t sit in Amosite or with my father. It sat with Bowen and the hospitality he showed me and my people, even though he didn’t have to. He’d protected me time and time again, and after tonight, I would never see him again.
I didn’t want to think of the possibility of it, but I knew it was the truth. Today might have been our last day together, and I’d kept something from him, hurting him in the process. That wasn’t how I wanted to leave.
I didn’t want to leave at all.
Bringing my hands around the back of my neck, I pushed my hair out of the way, draping it over one shoulder to unclasp the necklace. Resecuring the clasp, I laid the jewelry on his pillow, then took a step back.
My eyes wandered the room, taking in everything I was too shy to look at before. The trinkets on the bookshelves lining one of the walls, and all the spines begging to be opened. I crossed to what had to be hundreds of books, admiring the gold foiling adorning so many of them.
I trailed the tip of my finger through the dust on the rich brown shelf, walking until I got to the end, when my focus snagged on a piece of paper sticking out between two pieces of text. Letting curiosity get the best of me, I slid the parchment out. It had been folded multiple times.
Carefully opening it, my eyes scanned the paper, finding it to be a map of a building and its outer perimeter. Multiple x’s covered specific areas of the map, and upon closer inspection, recognition hit me in the gut.
It was a drawing of a castle.
Amosite’scastle.
My home.
My brows furrowed as I searched the parchment, looking for any indication of what the x’s might mean or why Bowen might have a perfectly drawn map of the place I had grown up.
Was Paxon telling the truth? That Bowen wanted to destroy Amosite?
Was this a log of rooms they had cleared for some reason? Combed through? Were they planning an ambush of some kind?
Why would Bowen need to keep track of something like this? Forwhat?
Realizing I would find no answers staring at a paper with a potential plan to decimate my home, I quickly folded it to its original state and shoved it back where I’d found it. Crossing to the bed, I grabbed my necklace from the pillow and beelined for the door.
Whatever the map was, it couldn’t be good. To mark x’s over specific rooms in the castle? There wasnogood reason for that.
Bowen might be able to explain, but?—
Excuses.
I’d let myself believe his words, let him kiss me. Let him see parts of me I’d never let anyone else see, only to find this?
A dull ache started to form with the thoughts spiraling through me. If nothing was truly as it seemed, was I even capable of making decisions? Could I trust anyone at this point?
My mind swirled with heavy emotions, causing the pang to quickly turn into a pounding headache as I descended the stairs and stormed outside. As soon as I was on the porch and the humid air hit me, a sharp pain split through my head. With the necklace grasped in my palm, I held my forehead, setting my other hand on the wooden beam to support myself.
My stomach soured as the pain became almost unbearable. A gasp passed my lips as something sharp and cold hit me in the side of my neck. Immediately, my vision went blurry, and the beam tilted sideways. Or was that me?
It had to have been the latter as my shoulder slammed into the splintering wood porch, sending a shockwave of pain through me. Polished boots appeared in my vision, and I tried to look up to see who they were attached to, but my eyes were too heavy, and my mind was going dark.
Strong hands gripped me as the fog took over, and everything went black.
CHAPTER 51
BOWEN
