Charlie knew she was being difficult, recognized she was not used to anyone looking after her, and chafing at it. As if to pacify, she squeezed the callused hand holding hers and felt him run his thumb gently over her knuckles. Nevertheless, his eyes didn’t lose their threat; Matthew was not falling for her compliance for a minute. It made her quirk the tiniest of smirks before she lowered her lashes and went back to sleep.
She was woken at supper, Matthew still at her side.
A nurse helped her sit, setting a tray of unappetizing, grey, mashed food and a steaming cup of warm tea over her lap. Her hands went to the mug and Charlie sipped the brew, sighing. Looking at Matthew, she found a small dash of pride in his expression and knew he had told them to bring her tea—probably sent someone out to buy the brand she liked best.
She smiled a little and sipped some more, watching him watch her. When she put the cup back and made no move to touch the mystery mashed food, he grunted and cocked his chin. Reluctantly, she took the spoon and ate exactly seven bites of the foul stuff.
Setting the spoon down, she pushed the tray away, preparing to settle back for more enforced rest.
Abrasive, gruff, he demanded, “Eat it.”
“Take me home,” she countered.
He picked up the spoon and scooped up a small amount for her, once again moody and belligerent.
“Try it,” she challenged, “and tell me you would eat that shit.”
He took the prepared bite and swallowed with no hesitation, then got another scoop for her. When she went to take the spoon from his hand, he pulled it out of her reach before bringing it up to her mouth again. He fed her the whole damn thing, bullying her into behaving.
The next time she woke, Nathaniel was there dozing. It was the pitch black of night. When she moved to creep out of the covers, he groaned from the shadows, “You put one toe out of that bed, Charlie, and there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I don’t want to be here, Nathaniel. Help me out.”
Grumbly, he glared. “You’ll stay. Now stop whinin’, I’m tired.”
Every moment had been twenty-four-hour surveillance by one Emerson or the other. Matthew loitering all day, pestering her with his glares and grunts until she did as he wanted. But at least he brought her food, mashed up things he knew she liked, to save her from the grey sludge. He even brought a slice of his Valentine’s Day chocolate pie… but only fed her the soft chocolate filling, keeping the crust for himself. Eyes devilish, he ate it right in front of her, and refused to share while she tried not to giggle.
Sheriff Cormac came and questioned her, staring at the woman who had befriended his daughter, knowing what she’d done to those men. Charlie didn’t much care for the look he was leveling on her, and was glad Matthew was there to help her keep from snarling at the lawman. In answer to every question, she lied and told Sheriff Cormac she couldn’t remember a thing, had no idea who saved her, and tried to play the timid female.
The sheriff wasn’t fooled for a minute. He looked at her differently—he looked at her like she didn’t belong. The longer the sheriff pestered, the sadder she grew, worried he was going to take his daughter’s friendship from her.
Her eyes began to water.
The instant Matthew saw she was upset, he barked at the lawman to leave, asserting there would never be any more questions on the subject.
Cormac obeyed.
Ruth was allowed to visit the fourth afternoon. The relief on Charlotte’s face when she saw who had come, the only reason Matthew allowed it. Whispering in her ear, Ruth had Charlie hoarsely chuckling for half an hour, but when Matthew saw Charlie grimace from across the room, he ordered the little woman away as politely as the agitated bear could.
For such a small snip of a girl, Ruth met Matthew’s grumpy scowl with a knowing smile and departed, leaving behind a jar of applesauce and some Jell-O.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, Charlie was in bed reading the paper when the doctor came in, checked her thoroughly and said she was free to leave so long as she made sure to get plenty of rest. Charlie flew out of bed so quickly her legs wobbled, and Matthew had to catch her. While she found her footing, he threatened that if she did not slow down he would make the doctor keep her until she learned sense.
Charlotte told him to fuck off, the old doctor chuckling all the way out the door.
Back at Devil’s Hollow, the floors and walls had been scrubbed clean of the blood, looking just as they always had. The room smelled of tobacco, grilled cheese, and moonshine… no trace of gunpowder. It was like the Emersons were trying to make it all disappear.
Charlie didn’t operate that way. She didn’t forget. And she sure as hell didn’t forgive.
Stopping at the door she surveyed the location each man had died. Absently scratching at her bandaged arm, a growl reverberated deep in her chest, drawing a few curious looks from customers.
A warm hand came to her lower back, distracting her agitation, Matthew leading her towards the rocking chair by the fire. He sat her down, handed her the paper and ordered Eli to make her tea before going to his office. The news was in hand and a few minutes later the tea too, but her eyes were on the wall where she had almost bled to death. It was then she realized she had never thanked him.
Standing, she crossed the room and knocked on Matthew’s door. He barked, assuming it was Eli, and she pushed it open.
“I never said thank you,” she mumbled, her voice still raspy from the attack. “I should have said thank you.”
The look on his face went from shocked to full on guilt.