She remembered running that afternoon.
Her father had sent her to carry a message to an older neighbor. She'd heard shouting from the direction of the mining road and seen two unfamiliar riders moving quickly toward the bridge.
She'd become frightened.
Then the bridge had begun to break beneath her.
For years, she believed the old structure simply failed.
Now she looked toward Caleb.
“Was the bridge damaged deliberately?”
He hesitated.
“My father believed somebody weakened the supports earlier that day. But I never saw who did it.”
Eleanor lowered her eyes.
He continued.
“I heard the wood cracking. Then I saw you fall.”
His voice became quieter.
“I couldn't leave you.”
She looked up.
“Even though you were already running from those men.”
Caleb swallowed.
“You were a child.”
“So were you.”
He didn't answer.
For several seconds, they remained silent.
Then Eleanor whispered, “You nearly died saving me.”
He looked toward the scar.
“I was badly hurt. The timber crushed part of my chest against the bank, and the cold made it difficult to breathe.”
She remembered his face.
So pale.
His lips trembling.
The silver heart resting in his hand.
She looked toward him.
“Who found you?”
“My father.”
Caleb took a breath.
“He came back with a horse and a blanket. Other men were already carrying you toward the settlement. My father recognized the men approaching the river and realized we couldn't trust them.”
Eleanor stared.
“What did he do?”
“He told them I'd died.”
Her mouth opened.
Caleb continued.
“He said the current took me after you were rescued. They searched downstream while he carried me into the trees.”
Eleanor felt tears gather.
“He lied to protect you.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He took me to a doctor who lived beyond the mining settlements. The man treated me for several weeks.”
Caleb touched the old scar.
“Some of the injuries healed badly. The doctor told my father I'd probably always have an unusual movement in part of my chest and that heavy work would sometimes cause pain.”
Eleanor looked toward the marks.
“Did you suffer all those years?”
He hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
The simple answer hurt her more than a dramatic description would have.
Caleb continued.
“When I could travel, my father brought me here. He built the cabin. We cleared the meadow, raised livestock, and traded under our own names only when it was safe.”