Wed By Necessity. Karen Kirst

It’s the horses.”

      Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line and, nudging her heels into Rain’s flank, guided her toward the woods. She didn’t want him around, but it didn’t look as if she had a choice in the matter.

      The satchel flashed in her mind. Freedom from her parents’ displeasure, from her current lifestyle and her disappointment in herself, dangled like a rare, delicious fruit ripe for the picking. There was no reason to stick around any longer. Leaving Gatlinburg was the answer to her problems.

      * * *

      The deeper into the mountains they traveled, the more convinced Duncan became that their outing would end in disaster. Like a whistling locomotive, the wind barreled through the shallow valley, whipping the trees rooted into the steep inclines on either side into a frenzy. Both horses were on edge. If either of them had possessed nervous dispositions, he or Caroline would’ve already been tossed from the saddle. The strip of sky visible above them was a churning, purple-gray mass of impending doom.

      Anger simmered beneath his thin veneer of control. Caroline rode ahead of him, as silent and stiff as a marble statue. Maureen had acted similarly whenever she was miffed, which had been often. When he proposed again, it would be to a sweet, easy-to-please lass of poor means. Money complicated matters.

      “What’s put a bee in your bonnet?” he called. “Someone not act as you wished them to?”

      The slope of her shoulders went rigid, but she didn’t answer him.

      “Whatever’s upset you, ’tisna worth risking the horses. Let’s turn back.”

      She angled her head so that he could see her profile. “I didn’t ask you to accompany me. Leave if you want. I’m not ready.”

      A raindrop splattered on his sleeve. Shifting his Stetson up his forehead, he eyed the sky again. On a typical midsummer evening, they’d have several hours of daylight left. Not this night.

      “It will be dark soon.” He tried to reason with her. “We don’t have lanterns.”

      Frowning, she lifted her head to the heavens. Was she finally going to act sensibly?

      “You don’t wish any harm to come to the horses, do you?” he tacked on.

      With a low command, Caroline brought Rain to a halt. He did the same with Jet, smoothing his palm along the animal’s quivering muscles.

      “I suppose we have no choice, do we?”

      The resignation in her voice aroused questions. When she circled around, he glimpsed the depth of her melancholy. Something was troubling her. Something more than a mix-up with the hors d’oeuvres or a snag in her stockings.

      Rain began to fall in discordant patterns. Tugging his brim lower, he said, “Stay close. We may have to find shelter if this gets out of hand.”

      Not waiting for her response, he maneuvered Jet around on the tight path. Thunder roiled through the valley. The storm wasn’t on them yet. Seeking God’s assistance, he prayed they’d reach the Turners’ safe and sound. The clouds opened up, releasing sheets of moisture that drenched him in seconds. Riding behind him on the trail, Caroline was unprotected in her fancy evening gown.

      Duncan didn’t have time to worry about her comfort. Squinting to see his way ahead, he searched for the rocky outcrop they’d passed fifteen minutes earlier. No point trying to continue in this onslaught. They’d wait out the storm until it was safe to ride again.

      He glanced over his shoulder every few minutes. While her misery and worry were apparent, she remained in control of her horse, and he admitted she was an adept horsewoman. One point in her favor.

      The thunder pealed again and, this time, the intensity of it shook the ground. Jet balked. Duncan tightened his grip on the reins. Lightning cracked like a whip, striking a tree close to the path. Caroline screamed.

      Twisting in the saddle, Duncan found his chest seizing with horror as Rain reared, front hooves slashing the air, eyes rolling in their sockets and nostrils flaring. And suddenly Caroline was sliding off. Rain’s rear leg caught the lip of the path, the soft earth crumbling beneath her hoof. The large gray went down, taking Caroline with her.

      “Caroline!”

      Vaulting to the ground, he paused long enough to secure Jet to a tree limb before scrambling down the slight slope. The interwoven treetops above kept some of the rain at bay. Soaked to the skin and splattered with mud, she struggled to sit.

      He crouched beside her, searching for visible injuries. “Are you hurt?”

      “I’m fine.” Her wince communicated otherwise. “Please, see to my horse.”

      Duncan twisted and saw Rain farther below them. She was on her feet, at least.

      “Are you sure nothing’s broken?” He turned back. “What about your head? Did you strike it?”

      Her hair hung like twisted wet cords and her eyes were large and anxious in her pale face. “I’m bruised, that’s all.”

      Thunder rumbled through the valley again. Duncan hurried to check on her horse. A gash the size of his fist had opened up her side, likely from a broken-off tree limb. It was deep and raw and would be prone to infection. A fresh wave of anger washed over him. A fine, dependable animal was hurt because of Caroline’s selfishness.

      She navigated the slippery terrain to join him, her hands skimming the horse’s good side. “Is she all right?”

      “I’m afraid not,” he gritted. “Take a look for yourself.”

      Her forehead crinkled in bewilderment. Coming around to where he stood, she saw the injury and gasped. “Oh, Rain.” Her arms went around the horse’s neck, and she buried her face in the gray coat.

      Duncan hardened his heart. This was her fault. She’d disregarded his warning, and her horse had gotten injured because of it.

      The storm’s fury intensified. The sky lit up with successive lightning streaks. Tethered to the distant tree, Jet pranced to the side and tossed his head.

      “Let’s get these horses out of the elements.”

      A shudder racked her. Moisture clung to her exposed shoulders and arms. Taking hold of the reins and speaking in soothing tones, she led Rain up the ridge.

      * * *

      Cold leached into her from the rock against which she was wedged. Her head resting on her bent knees, face hidden in the dirty layers of her skirt, she was mired in shame. Beneath the rocky outcrop he’d discovered, Duncan stood apart from her, preferring the horses’ company to hers. She didn’t blame him.

      The thunder and lightning had grown distant, but the rain’s relentless pursuit remained constant. It pounded the earth, splattering mud in all directions. At least here, in this cramped space, they’d have the chance to dry out before heading home.

      She couldn’t stop shaking. The scene replayed in her mind yet again, the lightning striking within feet of them, the sensation of falling through the air and slamming into the ground, expecting to be crushed at any moment beneath her horse. She offered up a prayer of thanksgiving that Rain hadn’t suffered a life-threatening injury. If she’d broken a leg or dislocated a shoulder, Caroline would’ve been returning home without her.

      There was still a possibility of infection. She’d never forgive herself if that happened. And neither would Duncan. Caught up in her problems, she’d ignored his advice and put them all at risk.

      The weight of her burdens threatened to suffocate her. Her father’s indifference, her mother’s disappointment, Theo’s scorn and Duncan’s contempt congealed into a single, sharp accusation. Caroline couldn’t please any of them. The need to be far from Gatlinburg was a living, breathing thing.

      Registering movement, she kept her head down until Duncan sank to the ground and nudged her.

      “Here.