Page 42 of Redeeming the Outlaw
Now and then, one of Whit’s siblings would sit in an overstuffed chair they dragged into the room and spend time with him. Through getting to know the Hartman family better, Esther gained a deeper understanding of Whit’s kindness, compassion, and protective nature. It only strengthened her love for him.
She discovered there wasn’t much new to the story of how Whit became a Hartman. His pa, Randall, was a man who always seized opportunities, whether it involved women, whiskey, or money. He had a history with the notorious Richards gang, and when they came demanding payment for old debts, he offered his oldest daughter instead, despite her engagement to the rancher next door.
The thought of a father sacrificing his own daughter filled Esther with disgust. Meanwhile, Annamae firmly believed the widowed Sarah Brown was her long-lost sister Evangeline.
During the evenings, Rex would sit on the faded chair in the corner of Whit’s room, pretending to read a book whilemonitoring Esther and Whit. He watched as Esther leaned down to kiss Whit goodnight, her soft lips barely grazing his cheek. Once the house was silent, Esther would tiptoe back to the room down the hall and lay on top of the covers, her head next to Whit’s shoulder and her hand wrapped around his.
When morning came, someone had placed a light coverlet over her body, and they had left the bedroom door ajar as if to invite her out. No one would confront her about curling up next to Whit.
After five long days at the Hartman’s house, she finally fell into a deep sleep. A loud commotion coming from the front door interrupted her rest. She struggled to untangle her hand from Whit’s tight grip, causing him to stir in his sleep.
She took a moment to study his face, noticing the swelling and bruises were fading, but his burns still looked raw and painful. As she tried to slip out of bed, he grabbed onto her hand with surprising strength.
Turning to face him, she saw his thin eyes peeking through the swollen tissue. Even with such a small opening, she could see the piercing gaze of the icy blue which saw right to her heart. His cracked lips moved as he struggled to speak, his dry tongue flicking out to moisten them before he croaked out a single word.
“Stay.”
“Whit!” she exclaimed. “You’re awake!”
She leaned in close, hovering over him, and reached out to touch his forehead. He didn’t have a fever, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Gingerly holding his hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifted it to her lips. She pressed a tender kiss against his palm, hoping it would offer some comfort.
“I am so happy you are alive,” she whispered as her tears fell on his skin. She saw him wince as she brushed the salty tearsaway. “I’m so sorry, my love.”
The door swung wide, the wood slamming against the wall with a loud thud as a voice exclaimed, “What in the world is happening?”
Esther released Whit’s hand and scrambled from the bed. “Papa! What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Esther.”
Her father filled the doorway, a formidable sight in his dark coat and pants with the white collar. Annamae tried to push her way around the reverend but couldn’t.
“We tried to keep him outside,” she offered with an apologetic shrug.
Whit tried to lift his head but dropped it down to the pillow with a groan.
“He’s awake, Annamae. I need to get a glass of water. His throat is dry,” Esther said over her father’s shoulder. Annamae left, and Esther looked at her father. “How did you find me?”
“The marshal finally said something. He’s outside as well. How’s the boy doing?”
Esther lowered her gaze to the floor, her mind racing for the right words. The creases and folds in her clothing seemed to taunt her, as she knew well her father had already assumed the worst about her and Whit.
“He’s not a boy, Papa.” Esther raised her eyes to meet her father’s gaze. “He protected me from those horrible men.”
Looking over her shoulder at Whit, his eyes were closed, but she was sure he was listening to every word she was saying. “Brodie Richards tortured Whit for what he did. For saving you, Ma and the girls. They tortured him when he protected a little boy. I pray his mind heals as well as his body.”
“Esther, let’s go outside and talk.” The reverend held openhis arm for her to follow him.
“I’ve got him,” Annamae said, returning with a cup of water and a spoon. “You go with your father.”
“I’ll be right back, Whit,” Esther assured him, before heading out to the sitting room.
Briggs was sitting in a chair, his ankle resting on his knee, talking to Baxter and Rex when Esther and her father entered the room. The marshal stood, walking over to where Esther was and grabbed her hands.
“How are you doing? How’s Whit?”
“I’m just tired. Whit just woke up. They badly beat him, and he has burns over most of his body. No broken bones, and Doc said the knife wounds were strategic. It was as if they didn’t want him to die.”
“Come sit with me, Esther.” The marshal led her to the small settee and sat next to her. “When Bass and I found him, he was barely alive. They had abandoned him there in the camp. I honestly think they would have killed him, but someone interrupted them. What do you remember about that morning in camp? Any little detail might help.”
