Bad Connection

Chapter 7

Layne Richards

She'd had no idea that it would look like this. Rebekah had known that Ben had a cabin here somewhere, had heard some of the other residents mention it. But this cabin looked as though it had been here for years.

More Point magic, she decided. The same magic which gave her green eyes in this place. The same magic which had allowed her to see and feel the same things as Ben when he'd been beaten. The idea of how much it could do frightened her a little.

This place didn't frighten her though. This clearing, with it's cabin and stable--with the sound of the birds singing, the breeze through the treetops, the soft rush of a small creek nearby--made her feel a sense of calm and peace that had never been present in her before. Closing her eyes, Rebekah breathed deeply, as though she could take it all into herself, make it a part of her.

Ben watched her reaction with a grin. Would never let on that he'd been less than confident about her liking it here. Still wasn't really. She might think the place was pretty, but the fact that there was no electricity, no indoor plumbing, none of the modern conveniences that she took for granted on a daily basis... Rebekah still might not want to stay here.

Still, he appreciated the idea that she found this place beautiful. He felt that way himself. Had felt a certain peace and stillness in the wind through the trees and the sound of the water. For Ben, what had taken the most getting used to was that no one was chasing him here.

There was no marshall out to take him in. No bounty hunters out to try their luck at taking in the territory's most notorious robber and murderer. No Pinkertons that the Southern Pacific Railroad had sent after him. For awhile, every out of the ordinary noise had still caused him to draw the Hand of God, ever on the alert. Finally, he'd been able to settle down a little. Be more relaxed when he was here.

From the looks of things, Rebekah just might be able to feel that way about this place too. Might help calm those nerves she always seemed to have bothering her. Maybe help her feel safe. Ben had an idea that that was what Miss Rebekah Logan was looking for more than anything--to feel safe.

It was the idea that she would feel safe with him that confounded him. He'd never run across anyone who felt safe around him, once they knew who he really was and what he'd done. Oh, well- Plenty of time to puzzle about that, he thought to himself. Right now, they needed to get things settled in for the night.

"Why don't you go on in? Have yourself a look around," he told Rebekah. I'll get the horses fed and settled in the stable.

Handing him the reins of the mare she was riding, Rebekah took her backpack and went toward the house. On her way, she noticed the way the setting sun put reddish-orange light on the west end of the cabin--pretty against the grey boards. She'd have to sketch it another day.

The two steps leading up to the porch were large, flat river stones. She stepped up them almost cautiously, somewhat afraid that, just by being here, she could do something to disturb the peace of the place. The door was flat greying boards and it opened with a slight squeak.

Rebekah looked around at interior, made somewhat dim by the late hour and felt even more pleased. The large room that greeted her was what she had always imagined to be a typical cabin room. At one end was the kitchen space--with a cast iron cookstove, a large wooden cabinet and another, smaller one and, further toward the middle of the room, a wood table and four chairs.

The other end of the room was more of a living area. A fireplace made from river rock dominated the wall on that end. Near it was a small table with two rocking chairs close by it. The table had an oil lamp on it, with a book sitting near it's base. Also in that end of the room was a bookcase, not quite as tall as Rebekah's head, with glass doors.

There were windows in three of the walls, a back door in the rear wall, and another door along the right wall. There was also a handmade wooden ladder leading up to a loft. It all looked like something out of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books Rebekah had always loved.

Opening the door in the right wall, she discovered a bedroom. One wall was dominated by a large bed with a blue patchwork quilt and two pillows on it. A wooden chest placed at the end had a folded blanket on top. In one corner was a large wooden wardrobe with doors for hanging clothes.

A tall chest with five drawers was against another wall. A mirror hung above it. The furnishings were finished out with another rocking chair near one of the room's two windows, a wash stand with a pitcher and bowl, and a small table near one side of the bed with a lamp sitting atop it. It was the most charming room Rebekah had ever seen.

Then, she stopped short for a moment. There was only one bed. Well, what had she expected? She had come close to sleeping with Ben Wade once, on her first trip to Crowe's Point. No doubt, if he were going to have a woman staying in his house with him, he would expect something from her.

Pushing her fears firmly down inside, Rebekah walked toward the bed. After leaning her backpack against the wall at the head of it, she sat down and tested it's firmness. Looking around the room, she still felt at home here. More at home than she'd ever felt anywhere in her life.

Hearing the back door opening, she rose from the bed and went toward the other room. Ben smiled at her from in front of the fireplace, where he had just finished stacking an armload of wood.

"Didn't get lost lookin' around?" he asked teasingly. "I gather you've seen it all by now?"

"Everything but the loft," she answered with a hesitant smile.

"Not a lot up there," he commented, watching her closely. She appeared to be a little nervous now. Now that they were out here all alone and night was setting in, he thought to himself.

Ben nodded toward the saddlebags that he'd hung over the back of one of the chairs. "Brought us some food for supper from the tavern. It's in there. If you wanna get it ready, I'll build a fire. Don' get that cold at night yet, but it's still nice to have one."

So, he was going to treat her like his woman, Rebekah thought. I'll build a fire and you cook. That was okay with her. "Won't- Won't I need a fire in the stove?" she asked him.

"Not for tonight," he said with a grin. "The stuff I brought's already cooked. Figured we'd be too late to mess with cookin' tonight."

When the fire was built, Ben stood before it, watching her set out plates and cups. Watching as she went through the cabinet, moving easily around the room, as though she belonged there.

Ironic, he thought, studying her intently. In his own world, his own time, there'd apparently been no woman for him. Yet here, in this place he'd been brought to against his will--this place and time he'd fought against being in since he'd been here--there was one who fit, who wanted to be here.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. It was this damned place again. This place and it's so-called magic messing with his head. It had decided he needed a woman and it had found him one. Now, it was trying to put them together. Well, Ben Wade didn't like to be manipulated. He was the one in control.

"It's ready," Rebekah told him, washing her hands and getting ready to sit down.

She watched as Ben sat, going right to the food and ignoring her. He was angry at something, she could tell. She'd seen the anger before. She didn't like anger. It made her nervous.

Sitting across from him, Rebekah stared at her plate. The uncomfortable silence felt wrong. She'd never felt that around Ben before. It reminded her of dinner in the foster homes she'd been in. Everyone eating quietly and uneasily, hoping to finish and be gone without attracting attention. Without having anger or anyone's temper turned on them.

Without warning, Ben dropped his fork. It hit the floor with a loud clatter and Rebekah jumped. Immediately, she got up to get him another one. When she brought it to him, took the fallen one and put it away, she noticed that intent gaze on her once again, those eyes that seemed to literally burn into her soul.

"You afraid 'a me now?" he asked her, his voice hard. When she shook her head, he went on, "You're afraid 'a somethin'."

That hard look boring into her, Rebekah spoke hesitantly. "You're angry about something. Me?" It was so difficult for her to speak those words that they came out in a voice barely above a whisper. Her experience in life had taught her that you didn't talk about these things. You ignored them. You ignored them and waited for them to go away and, if you were lucky, they went away quickly, without anything bad coming out of them.

Yet something was different with Ben. In some strange, unknown way, this connection allowed her to feel his anger like an undercurrent to her own feelings. It made her even more uneasy, and Rebekah despised that feeling. She'd felt the first peaceful feelings of her life around Ben. She wanted that back, had to have that back. With all her courage and will, which was considerable, she forced herself to meet his eyes.

Once again, Ben could see the enormous amount of strength and control behind that nervous exterior. Even though she had her hands pressed together (a sure sign of fear with her, he'd noticed), she looked him straight in the eye and didn't shrink. And once again, he respected her for it.

In the same way that she could sense his anger, Ben could also sense her fear. Sensing it now, in spite of her ability to cover it, he reigned in his anger, softened his look at her. "Not at you, darlin'," he told her softly. "At this damned 'Point magic', whatever the hell it is. I'm always havin' to wonder if what I'm feelin', what I'm thinkin', is me, or just it doin' somethin' to me."

Curious, Rebekah asked, "Does it really matter?"

"Hell, yes, it matters! You want somethin' else tellin' you what to do? Runnin' things for you? Isn't that the kinda thing you wanted to get out of your whole life?" His eyes blazed as he faced her.

Rebekah dropped her own eyes briefly. "I guess I didn't think about it like that." Lifting her face, she looked at him again, almost begging him to understand. "I've felt comfortable with you. It feels so good, so different... I didn't want to question it."

Ben spoke softly again. "I learned a long time ago to question everythin', darlin'. People lie to you. Feelin's betray you. You don' question, you end up in prison. Or dead."

Seeing the troubled look on her face and regretting that he had been the one to put it there, Ben pushed away from the table. "But we don' hafta spend every minute questionin'," he said with a grin.

"Ain't nothin' says we can't quit for the night and go back to questionin' in the mornin'. I'm gonna make sure everythin' outside's all right for tonight and bring in some more water."

After he'd gone outside, Rebekah got up slowly, still thinking about what he'd said. Finding a dishpan, she stacked their plates, forks and cups in it. Since Ben hadn't built a fire for heating water, she assumed she'd just have to leave the dishes for in the morning.

When the table was clean, she went into the bedroom. Washing her face in the bowl there, she looked carefully at herself in the mirror. The same slightly thin face, framed by golden-brown hair. Arched eyebrows, flushed cheeks. All the same, except for the green eyes that she had here, rather than the brown ones she'd had all her life in her own world.

The real world, Rebekah reminded herself. The real world where her life had been so incredibly hard and so many bad things had happened to her. This was only her second visit to Crowe's Point, but already it seemed more real to her than anything out there. That was all beginning to take on the haze of a bad dream. Hopefully, her life could be here. With Ben.

Exhausted, she gave up thinking for right now. Ben had not yet come in, so she lay down on one side of the bed, thinking to rest until he came.

When Ben did enter the cabin, he heard nothing but silence. The bedroom door was open and, looking in, he saw Rebekah soundly asleep. Moving as quietly and carefully as he could, he unfolded the blanket that lay atop the chest at the foot of the bed and spread it carefully over her.

After checking the fire in the fireplace, he removed his boots, hat, shirt, and vest and lay down on the bed beside her gently.

Lacing his hands behind his head, Ben lay awake for a long time, mostly staring at the ceiling, but occasionally looking over at the woman beside him. Wondering what tomorrow would bring and realizing that, for the first time in this place called Crowe's Point, he was actually looking forward to tomorrow.