***Here's another crappy short chapter! The honest reason it's so short and poorly written is because it's real chilly in my apartment and my hands are cold and my fingers are stiff so writing is sort of a painful affair. But my personal opinion is that cliffhangers are rude and disrespectful, so I didn't want to leave that last one for too long unaddressed.***

Amelia

Amelia was done with the day around about the time Josh left for work-- which was to say quite early. It all began in the wee hours of the morning, when her lower belly began aching with the dreaded monthly cramps. They only ever lasted a few hours, and if they came in the day she hardly noticed them. At night they were an agonizing nuisance. So, by the time Josh got up, she had already been awake for several hours, groggily rocking in a chair by the fire and waiting for the pain to subside.

Josh awoke several hours after her and stumbled out to the sitting room. When she explained why she was already awake, he made several unsolicited and unwanted recommendations, which only made her crankier. She snipped at him, and he grumbled and left to tend to the animals, which left her feeling both annoyed and guilty.

Of course, Josh's departure woke up Rebecca, who decided instead of going back to sleep until the sun rose she would instead trail after her mother while Amelia bustled about her morning chores. The arrival of her monthly cycle already had her feeling messy and uncomfortable. Having her daughter rambling at her while she tried to build up the fire in the stove very nearly drove her into hysterics.

By the time Josh returned from the barn, she was in no more a mood to apologize than she'd been when he left. Instead, she ragged on him for trailing in snow that was already melting into muddy puddles in the entryway. He mumbled something under his breath, snagged up a heel of bread and a flask of water, and left for the day without eating the breakfast she'd been halfway through preparing for him.

In all, it was an unremarkable morning. Most were more pleasant, but it was hardly catastrophic. She was never in her best mood when she was bleeding, and Josh knew that. He made fun of her for it, in fact... but only after the fact. The only thing that assuaged her foul mood as she went about her chores and fought not to lash out at her daughter was the knowledge that she'd feel better tomorrow.

She'd calmed herself down to a simmer by lunchtime. She didn't know whether Josh would come home for the meal. Sometimes, if he was working in the area, he'd ride home so they could eat together, but there was no way to schedule those days ahead. She always prepared a little extra for him, just in case, and she rather hoped he'd make it home that day. She was ready to be made fun of for her crankiness.

She was just preparing a plate for herself and Rebecca when she heard a gunshot crack the air. The hair along her spine and the backs of her arms rose to attention. It wasn't the first time she'd heard gunfire and, although it never impacted her directly, it always came with sad news when Josh returned home. Some wild animal caught attacking the herd; a horse gone done with a broken leg that needed to be shot; an old dog; once, the most terrifying instance, it had been a small crew of outlaws caught living on the outskirts of the property. Josh had sent men out to drive them away but the outlaws had opened fire.

No, gunshots never meant anything good, but there was also little she could do about whatever catastrophe had ensued. Retrieving the rifle from its spot by the door, she brought it to the kitchen just in case and continued preparing lunch. Two more gunshots popped in rapid succession as she returned to the kitchen. Then a long several minutes of silence. A fourth shot, and then there were no more. Hoisting Rebecca onto a hip, she went to the back bedroom, where a window faced toward the woods. By her reckoning that was where the shots had come from.

Peering through the warped glass, she tried to see some evidence of a fight but all she saw was the tall, unmoving trunks of the trees, reaching toward the sky. Shivering with a chill of foreboding, she went back to the kitchen and plopped Rebecca in a chair. Her daughter, oblivious to her mother's fears, dug happily into her potatoes and gravy, chattering about horses, her sweet voice a balm to Amelia's nerves.

By the time lunch was finished she had all but forgotten about the gunshots. She settled Rebecca in the sitting room with her building blocks and went to the kitchen to tidy up. Busy with the dirty dishes, she barely heard the voice yell over the splash of water and the clattering of ceramic. She froze, her hands still submerged in soapy warm water, and tilted her head. The voice came again. This time clearer and closer.

"Amelia!"

Josh! Hurriedly drying her hands, she snatched up the rifle, checked on Rebecca, and rushed to the front mudroom. She shoved her feet into boots and pulled the door open, rushing out onto the porch. The sight before her nearly brought her lunch back up.

Josh was reining up Copper in front of the house. The horse was panting, sides heaving, and it was no wonder because the poor animal bore two riders. Brent sat slumped in the saddle before his brother, his face a deathly shade of white that put the snow to shame and made the smears of red on his skin all the more apparent. The air reeked of iron, and streaks of red oozed down Copper's sides and dripped off Brent's fingertips. He sagged heavily in his Josh's grasp.

"You can put down the gun Ames," Josh said, dismounting with a grunt and apparently oblivious to the shock that rolled through her in waves. He turned his back to her to catch Brent as the man folded forward and slipped from the saddle. Copper shied away at the movement and Brent's weight sent Josh backwards into the snow. Still cradling his brother's upper body, Josh huffed with exertion and shoved up onto his knees, glancing over his shoulder at Amelia.

"Sweetheart, I need your help," he said. "Put the gun down and come get his legs... Amelia!" he snapped when she merely stared, and she snapped out of her paralysis.

"Okay," she breathed, leaning the rifle against the wall and hurrying down the stairs. She slipped and slid in the snow, and icy clumps stung her hands when she slipped them beneath Brent's ankles and lifted. His legs were much heavier than she expected. Walking backwards, Josh carried Brent's upper body up the stairs and she followed, hunched over by Brent's deadweight. Several times, his soggy boots slipped from her frigid fingers, and his legs thumped to the wooden stairs.

Together, they managed to drag him into the house, bypassing the mudroom and laying him down in the entryway between the sitting room and the kitchen. Breathing hard, Josh knelt by his brother and ripped off his gloves, holding the back of his hand over Brent's mouth. "He's still breathing," he said, and Amelia swallowed hard and nodded. Beyond Josh, Rebecca stood in the sitting room, blocks forgotten as she stared wide-eyed at the bloody scene before her.

"Papa?" she whimpered, her lower lip trembling, eyes already shining with tears.

Josh jerked and his eyes flared wide before he twisted around. When he spoke she could tell he was trying to sound calm. The words came out shaky. "Hey honey."

"Papa?" This time the word was less pleading and more plantic.

"It's okay, Reb."

"I'll take her to her bedroom," Amelia said, abandoning the men and stepping over Brent's inert body, hefting her daughter into her arms. "It's okay," she crooned, pressing Rebecca's face into her shoulder. "Close your eyes, sweetie." Shoulders shaking, Rebecca clung to her neck as she carried her down the hallway and into her bedroom. Setting her on the bed, she took her daughter's shoulders in her hands.

"Mama?" she whined, reaching out, clearly wanting Amelia to pick her back up. Wrapping her in a hug, Amelia patted her hair.

"It's okay, sweet one," she murmured in her ear. "I know it's scary, but it'll be okay. I need you to stay in your room and be brave so I can go help your papa, okay?"

"Mama, no."

"It's okay," she said again, more firmly, pulling away and framing the little girl's puffy, tear-streaked face. "You play with your dolls for just a little bit. I'll be back in just a couple of minutes, alright?"

Rebecca shook her head, lower lip protruding in a trembling pout as tears streamed over her cheeks.

"Please, Reb," Amelia said. "I'll be so quick. I'll be back so soon. I just need to go wash my hands and finish with the dishes, okay?" It was a lie, but it seemed a more graceful excuse than the truth. "I'll be back before you know it. Just stay in your room until I come get you."

Without giving the girl a chance to argue, she pushed to her feet and hurried from the room, feeling as if her heart was ripping out of her chest of its own volition. She felt like a monster as she pulled the door shut behind her on the sound of Rebecca's cries, but what was the alternative? There was a man bleeding out in her entryway. What was she supposed to do-- let Rebecca watch him die?

No, no, he wouldn't die. He couldn't die. Such things didn't happen in her cozy, perfect little house. Stumbling down the hallway, she found that Josh had dragged his brother into the sitting room, leaving broad streaks of blood on the rough wood floor. Brent lay motionless on the rug before the fire, his body heavy and unwieldy as Josh struggled to remove his outerwear. Her husband clearly wasn't thinking straight, his own face pale and his hands shaking as he struggled to lift Brent's body and tug at his clothes at the same time.

Amelia knelt opposite Josh and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Do you have a knife?" she asked gently, and he stared at her with glassy eyes for a few long moments before nodding jerkily. She forced a smile. "Let's just cut his clothes off, then," she said. "They're already ruined, right?"

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, Josh nodded, reaching behind him and coming up with the knife he always kept on his belt. Working together, they hastily cut off Brent's clothing, revealing pale skin marred by several garish slash marks that carved around his side and down the front of his right leg. Amelia gasped when she saw the injuries.

"Bear," Josh grunted, answering her unasked question. If there was more to the story, though, she wasn't going to get it. Not until Brent was no longer bleeding.

"I'm going to get some clean cloths." She returned with freshly-laundered sheets which she set about tearing into strips.

"I need to get Melissa," Josh said shakily, taking one of the larger sections from her and folding it into a pad. When he pressed it to Brent's side, his brother groaned, his head rolling against the floor. The last thing Amelia wanted was for Josh to leave. Leave her alone with a dying man. Leave the warmth of the house when he was still so obviously shaken.

"You should stay," she said. "We know we need to stop the bleeding, right? Once the immediate danger passes you can go get her."

He shook his head. "These need to be cleaned and stitched. If we don't do it right they'll fester. Melissa's better at it than you or me. I need to go get her."

Amelia didn't know how to argue. She didn't have the brainpower for it. Not with more blood than she'd ever seen all smeared across her floor and Brent groaning in pain at her feet. Numbly, she helped Josh press folded linens to the bleeding gashes and tie strips of cloth around his chest and leg to keep pressure and hold the makeshift bandages in place. Then they piled blankets on top of him and tucked a pillow beneath his head. He roused several times, his eyelids flickering as he moaned in pain, but he never seemed to hear them speaking to him. Or, at the least, he couldn't respond.

Josh pushed unsteadily to his feet when their patient was fully situated. His own clothes were saturated with Brent's blood, and his hands still shook, with cold or shock Amelia didn't know. "See if you can get him to take some water or tea while I'm gone," he said dully, staring down at his blood-coated hands. "There's some willow bark in the cupboard."

Amelia nodded, rubbing her own hands together and feeling the blood clump and flake off her palms. In spite of the heat of the fire and the exertion, she was trembling as well. This wasn't her first encounter with blood, but she'd never seen quite so much of it come from one person at one time. And the gashes the bear had left... she shuddered, and Josh's face fell.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, lowering his head. Then his gaze snapped up. "I need to check on Rebecca."

Amelia actually laughed at that, although the sound was weak and pitiful. "After you get home," she said. "After you clean up. If you go see her now you'll probably scare her worse."

He looked down, plucking the blood-drenched shirt away from his chest, and offered her a wry smile. "Voice of reason," he mumbled before squaring his shoulders and offering her a tense smile. "You'll be okay until I get back? I'll be quick."

"We'll be fine," she promised, skirting Brent's body and rising up her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to her husband's blood-streaked cheek. "Just hurry back, okay?"

Lips twisting, he nodded and returned the kiss before trudging back to the front door and disappearing in a draft of cold air. It wasn't until he had been gone for several minutes that all the follow-on effects of this disaster finally began to trickle into her head, the very least of which was the jarring realization that her patient wasn't just a man in need but her daughter's estranged sire. That the man who had the desire and the power to tear her family and her happiness apart at the seams was now, for all intents and purposes, her houseguest.