Aftermath

Jarrod wandered. He had no set goal, no real plans and was content to let the sights and smells of spring wash over him. He knew he had to try and get his life back but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Maybe when he reached a town with a telegraph office, he’d wire his brothers and arrange to meet them, take it slow and ease his way back. He didn’t think he could ever tell them what happened but also knew deep down Nick and Heath would never judge him. Breathing a bit easier with some sort of plan in mind, Jarrod guided Jingo down the tree-lined trail and embraced the signs of spring’s rebirth.

A sound broke the peaceful quiet of the forest. The muffled cry started a feeling of dread in Jarrod’s stomach and a part of him wanted to ignore it, to turn and ride in the other direction. But he wasn’t that kind of man, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to ride away no matter how much he wanted to, so Jarrod slipped from Jingo’s back and headed in the direction of the noise.

He froze when he came out of the trees into a small clearing. A man was looking on as another was on the ground. The second man had his pants around his knees and his hips were pumping with unmistakeable movements. Jarrod couldn’t see the victim, he could only see a wide-spread pair of legs and bunched up skirts, but he could hear her soft whimpers of pain.

He was only frozen for a moment. Pulling his gun, Jarrod growled, “I’d stop now if I were you.”

The man assaulting the woman stopped his motions and both looked at the newcomer.

“Well, hey, friend, no need to get testy,” said the man who had been watching. “There’s enough of this sweet little thing to go around.”

A red-hot fury engulfed Jarrod, overpowering any feelings of fear. He lunged at the rapist and dragged him off the woman before smashing him in the face with his gun. He whirled as he heard a shot scream past his head and fired.

Jarrod watched as the other man fell, his shirt rapidly soaked through as he bled out on the ground. The flash of rage quickly drained away and Jarrod felt the panic he thought banished surge through him. Dropping to his knees, that night over five months ago came rushing back and Jarrod found himself reliving the blinding pain and horrific feeling of his own rape. The icy cold terror gripped him tightly and wouldn’t let go and he let out a strangled moan. Oh, god, it was never going to be over, he was never going to be free…

“Look out!”

The shaky warning made it through and Jarrod looked up just in time to see the man he’d hit lunge for him. The other’s face was a bloody mess, the broken nose oozing blood, but his murderous intent was clear. Jarrod managed to get his arms up before the hands grabbed his throat and he threw the other man off. He heard a sickening crack as the assailant hit the ground. The legs jerked once and then the body was still.

Jarrod shakily got to his feet and approached the unmoving form cautiously. Blood and tissue covered the rock that had smashed through the other’s head and when Jarrod rested his hand on the man’s chest, the heartbeat was still.

He turned to find the young woman vainly trying to pull her torn dress together to cover her chest and was surprised to see it was Hal Perkins’ niece. He took off his coat and slowly approached her to drape it gently around her shoulders. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

She pulled the coat tightly around herself. “I should be the one thanking you,” she replied in a trembling voice. “They… I…” She burst into tears.

Jarrod was unsure what sort of comfort he could give, but knelt down beside her and put an arm around her. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, “they can’t hurt you again.” She grabbed his shirt and collapsed against his chest, still sobbing. Jarrod kept a firm grip on his emotions. He wouldn’t be any use to her if he couldn’t remain strong.

Jarrod held her close and stroked her hair with a gentle touch until the tears finally abated. “Come on,” he encouraged gently, “my horse is just over there. I’ll get you home.”

“No!” she protested and abruptly pushed away. “I can’t!” She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself tightly. “I can’t,” she repeated again in distress. “How can I face anyone after what… I just can’t.” She started weeping again.

Jarrod understood her fear and reluctance all too well. “Let me at least get you away from here.” He stood and held out his hand. Still clutching the coat closed, she cautiously accepted the help and he assisted her to her feet. He led her over to Jingo, gave her a boost into the saddle and handed her the reins. “Do you think you can ride by yourself?” She nodded. “I’ll go find their horses,” Jarrod told her, but turned back when she called out to him.

“You don’t have to do this, Mr…” She paused uncomfortably. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Jarrod,” he said with a soft smile. “And I believe you’re Grace, if I may call you by your given name.” Grace nodded with a small smile of her own. “I’ll be right back, Grace,” Jarrod assured her.

He found the horses tethered on the other side of the clearing. Tightening the girths, he mounted the chestnut and looped the other animal’s reins around the saddle horn. Jarrod took a long look at the bodies of the men lying on the ground. There wasn’t any other choice, he told himself and found he harboured little regret for the actions that had taken the outlaws’ lives.

Jarrod rode back to where Grace was waiting. He knew he didn’t have to worry with her riding Jingo; his horse had a smooth, easy gait and didn’t spook or shy easily. “Let’s ride a little and find a good place to stop for a while.” He reached out to grab her hand briefly and gave her an encouraging smile before he urged his mount into a slow walk.

They rode at a slow pace and Jarrod kept a close eye on Grace. By the way she was actively guiding Jingo, she seemed to be holding herself together. She didn’t say much, not that Jarrod expected her to, and he didn’t feel like talking either. The silence gave him the chance to examine his own reactions and he found he could think about it with only a slight twisting of his stomach. Just as if he was examining all parts of a legal matter, Jarrod turned over all the recent events in his mind.

He hadn’t run when he came across Grace’s assailants; he’d stood his ground and defended her in spite his panic.

He’d come out of the mountains and was able to interact with Perkins in town without feeling overt fear.

His nightmares had almost stopped; he no longer woke every night in a cold sweat.

When he thought of his home and family, he no longer dreaded their concern and pity, he was just filled with a longing to see them again.

Most of all, he was starting to believe he could again be the man he once was and he wanted that life back.

Jarrod’s thoughts stayed with him until they found a fast running stream. Following it, they eventually came across a relatively clear area. Jarrod looked over at Grace and saw she was drooping in the saddle, so he dismounted quickly and walked to Jingo’s side. Grace flinched when he put his hand on her arm and Jarrod felt a pang of empathy at the brief look of panic on her face. “It’s all right,” he tried to reassure her, “no one will hurt you.”

Grace gave him a slight nod. She allowed him to help her from Jingo’s back and guide her to a fallen log nearby to sit.

“You just rest,” Jarrod said gently, “I’ll unsaddle the horses and get some wood for a fire.” His heart went out to her at the despondent look on her face. “It’ll be okay.”

Taking care of the camp chores, Jarrod wondered if he really believed his words of reassurance. Maybe it would be easier for a woman, he thought, but he really didn’t believe that. They had both been subject to a deeply personal assault and Jarrod wasn’t arrogant enough to think it affected him any more than it had Grace. Sure, there were other elements to his attack, the burning and the whipping, but those were just superficial. If that was all there had been, he didn’t think he’d be undergoing the same degree of torment. If he was still suffering from the after-effects, he had no doubt Grace was suffering the same.

When he came back with the coffeepot full of water, Jarrod found that Grace had already managed to get a small fire going with the wood he’d found. He set the pot at the edge of the flames and couldn’t help a shiver at the contrast of the fire’s warmth and the cooling evening air.

“You’re cold.” Grace hesitantly started to unbutton the coat she was still wearing. “You should take this back.”

He stopped her with a hand on hers. “No. You need it more than I do.” She looked at him with uncertain eyes. “Please.”

Grace gave him a small, grateful smile. Jarrod pulled out some biscuits he’d picked up in town and handed her one to nibble on while they waited for the coffee to boil.

“I was in the bank, making a deposit for my uncle,” Grace said without preamble. “Those two men came in with their guns drawn and demanded money.” Jarrod remained quiet while she told her story. “They said I was just a bonus when they grabbed me.” He looked over when he heard her voice catch with a sob. “I was wearing a new dress I’d just finished. I knew it was too flashy, I knew I shouldn’t have made the neckline so low. They must’ve thought…”

“No decent man would have thought that,” Jarrod assured her quietly. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you were covered completely in a nun’s habit to animals like them. It wasn’t your fault, Grace. Never think that.”

She gave him a grateful glance. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m only saying what’s true.”

They sipped their coffee and sat silently by the fire a little longer before Jarrod spread the bedrolls close to the flames’ warmth. He made sure Grace knew it was his blankets she was using; he didn’t think knowing she was using those of her assailants would be beneficial to her peace of mind.

*

Jarrod woke, shaking. The nightmare that he hoped was banished had returned, but as it retreated into the shadows, he didn’t think it had been as intense or as real as the ones of the previous months. A soft hand on his shoulder caused him to look up into concerned brown eyes.

“Are you all right?” Grace asked softly.

Jarrod dragged a hand across his face. “I will be,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “It was just a bad dream. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I wasn’t really asleep.” Grace sat beside him as Jarrod moved into a seated position. He took a deep breath to try to banish the terror that had resurged and saw Grace staring at her hands.

“It happened to you, didn’t it?” It wasn’t really a question and Jarrod didn’t answer right away. “The way you seem to understand, and then some of the things you said in your sleep…” Her voice trailed off into the darkness.

“It was a while ago,” Jarrod finally admitted and was a bit surprised to see empathy in her eyes, not disgust.

“Is that where you got the scars on your back?" When Jarrod was silent, Grace hurriedly apologized. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. I just couldn’t help seeing them when you were at the store…”

Jarrod forced a small smile. “No, it’s okay. I just haven’t talked about it with anyone.” He took a deep breath to compose his thoughts and remembered Heath telling him that talking about it might help. And when he looked into her eyes, he knew Grace would understand. “I was involved in a shooting a while ago. The man’s uncle held me responsible and hired someone to kill me, but not without breaking me first. I managed to escape, but not before…” Jarrod shuddered as the words brought back that terrible night, but the fear that had once overwhelmed him remained under control.

“Are those men still out there?”

Jarrod shook his head. “No,” he said. “They’re both dead.”

“I’m glad.” Grace’s response was very matter-of-fact. “And I’m glad those other men are dead, too.” She moved closer and Jarrod hesitantly placed his arm around her shoulders. When she didn’t pull away, he drew her to him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Grace,” he told her again, “just like it wasn’t mine.” For the first time, Jarrod started to believe that. He and his brothers didn’t have any other choice when they shot Matt Coulter. He hadn’t asked to be tortured and raped and all the men he killed had taken any other option out of his hands by their own actions. A bit more of his disquiet left him. He didn’t really think anyone in his family would censure him for what happened. They might pity him, something he could do without, but he knew they wouldn’t think any less of him for what he had suffered at the hands of another.

“I wish others could believe the same as you.” Grace sounded forlorn. “I know everyone’s going to think that I did something to ask for it…”

Jarrod squeezed her shoulders in reassurance. “There are others who would believe the same,” he told her, as much for his own benefit as hers, “but there’s no need for anyone to know. I’ll make sure everyone thinks you were rescued before they had a chance.” He locked his eyes with hers. “I promise, Grace.”

Her lips trembled and her eyes glinted with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Jarrod placed a tender kiss on her lips. “No thanks needed. Now I think we should try to get some sleep and we can decide what to do in the morning.”

Grace looked at him hesitantly. “Do you think… Would it be all right if I brought my blankets a little closer?”

Jarrod nodded and Grace pulled her bedroll beside his before they both crawled under the blankets.

“Good night, Jarrod.”

“Good night, Grace.”

Grace slipped her hand out from under the blankets and shyly reached towards him. Jarrod took her hand gently in his and they both drifted off to sleep.