Page 44 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“By lying to me?” she challenged, her composure crumbling under the strain of her emotions. “By letting me believe I was your daughter, when all along, I wasn’t?”
“Blood doesn’t make a family, Esther,” Reverend Billings replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Love does. I have always loved you, because God gave you to me.”
“Then why?” Tears welled in her eyes as she demanded answers. “Why keep the truth from me? What else are you hiding?”
Reverend Billings looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “There are things... things too difficult to explain,” he murmured, his words heavy with unspoken pain. “Whatever you may think of me now, know everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love for you.”
“Love?” Esther repeated the word like a curse, her chest tightening with each breath. “How can I trust your love when it’s built on lies?”
“Esther, please,” her father pleaded, his eyes filled with tears as he reached for her hand.
She turned away from him, her heart aching with betrayal and anger.
“Please, Papa,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I think you should go home. Give my love to Ma, Ruth and Naomi. I need time to think.”
Reverend Billings stood for a minute; his hand still extended toward her. At last, he nodded, dropping his hand to hisside. “I’ll be outside, Marshal,” he said, the weight of his guilt dragging him down as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
The marshal stood and put his hat on. “I’ll do some more investigating and stop by in a few days, Miss Billings.”
“Thank you. Are you going to let Mrs. Brown know about Brodie and Ma?”
“I will. If Big Joe found her, I’m sure he’s pig food by now.”
Esther’s eyes flew open wide as the marshal gave her a wink and headed out the door.
“What was that all about?” Baxter asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Esther said. “I think I need to lie down.”
Returning to Whit’s room, she noticed he was alone. The rhythmic sound of his steady breaths filled the quiet space. She climbed onto the bed, pulling the soft coverlet up to her waist and snuggling close to him.
“I wish I could talk to you,” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder. “I miss you so much.” The scent of antiseptic, grease, and fresh linens surrounded her. Closing her eyes, she felt his fingers slowly curl around hers, giving her a sense of comfort and connection words couldn’t provide.
Chapter Twelve
Whit sat on the bed next to Esther as she tended to his wounds, her delicate fingers grazing his skin ever so lightly. He found himself transfixed by the wisps of hair falling across her face as she leaned in close, the faint floral scent of her soap mingling with the harsh scent of whatever she was dabbing on his skin.
As she turned the bottle upside down to wet the cloth, he resisted the urge to reach up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers twitching with the desire to touch her.
Whit studied her face as she worked, struck by the graceful curve of her neck. He noticed the sprinkling of faint freckles across her nose and the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly as she concentrated.
“Ouch!” He winced as Esther gently pressed the cloth againsthis wounds. The liquid stung like a thousand tiny needles, and he couldn’t help but grab her hand to stop her from touching him again. “What is that stuff?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Esther peered at him with concern, her hazel eyes studying the cuts, bruises, and burns marring his skin. “It’s something Doc read about in a medical journal. It’s called antiseptic, and it’s supposed to prevent infection.”
“I think it stinks and hurts,” he griped.
She gave a light laugh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hartman, I’ll be more careful,” she said in a teasing tone. She couldn’t resist adding, “To be fair, you haven’t had a proper bath since... spring?”
Whit cracked a reluctant smile at her jab. “Hard to find time for a bath when you’re busy running from trouble.” His eyes flickered to hers, a mix of gratitude and something else simmering in their blue depths. “I reckon I owe you my life, sweetheart.”
“It was Marshal Briggs and Bass Pickett who found you.” She folded the cloth to a clean section and lifted the bottle again. “I don’t know how we would have gotten help without Sarah’s pigeons.”
“Pigeons? The ones in her barn?”
Esther nodded as she wet the cloth again. “Sarah tied a message to the pigeon’s leg and released it, hoping it would find Briggs. Early in the evening, he arrived at her doorstep with you on the back of his horse.”
“How did I get here, then?”
