“Oh, look. Is that your cabin over there?” She awkwardly tried to cover up her slip. A log structure came into view around the bend in the river, nestled amongst some sheltering pines. She recognized the landscape, but in her time there were fewer trees on the hillside to the north, and the familiar path along the river’s edge, created by thousands of tourists each summer, was also absent. It appeared so much more beautiful now, in its wild and undamaged state.
Daniel lowered the travois poles in front of the cabin, and she hoisted herself from the ground with her stick. She stretched her stiff muscles. Would her body ever stop aching? Daniel quickly surveyed the area. Then he checked inside the cabin before gesturing for her to enter. Whatever he’d been looking for must have satisfied him.
She had no idea what to expect. What did the inside of a trapper’s cabin look like? Curious, she hobbled through the door into the dark interior. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She scanned the single room. There was a rough wooden table in the center. Two logs split down their middle on either side of the table made up two benches. There were two bunks along opposite walls, each piled high with various animal furs and wool blankets. The back wall held a massive stone fireplace and hearth, and some shelves had been hung that contained tin plates, cups, wooden bowls, and various other containers. Two pairs of snowshoes, a hunting bow and quiver full of arrows, and several metal contraptions with chains that she guessed were steel traps hung on the walls. The entire cabin projected the man who lived in it – wild and rustic, without any frills.
“You can sleep here,” Daniel said, pointing to the bunk on the left. She hobbled over to the bed and deposited her backpack on it.
“I hope this isn’t too much trouble for you, having me here,” she apologized.
Daniel knelt in front of the hearth, gathered kindling from the wood box into a small pile, and struck his knife against a flint he produced from the pouch around his neck. Sparks erupted almost immediately, and Daniel blew air on the small flame, then added larger pieces of wood to feed the growing fire. Aimee had never seen anyone produce a campfire with such speed and efficiency. Of course he didn’t reply to her comment.
“I won’t be a bother to you, I promise,” she tried again. “My foot should be better in a couple of days, and . . . I’ll leave then.” If he sent her away, she’d have to manage somehow on her own until Zach came for her. The thought sent chills of dread down her spine.
Daniel turned to look at her as if he were considering her statement. “You lost your way in the woods already.”
“Not all who wander are lost.” She couldn’t help herself from quoting one of her favorite authors.
Daniel gave her a perplexed look. “Where do you plan to go? There are no people other than the Tukudeka and some Siksiska in this area.”
“Some who and what?”
“The Tukudeka - the Sheep Eaters - and the Siksiska - the Blackfoot,” Daniel explained. He stared at her again with those intense brown eyes.
“Where did you come from?” His non-wavering stare seemed to burn a hole right through her.
There it was! Aimee had been expecting the question. Unfortunately, she hadn’t come up with any kind of believable story yet. Zach had been adamant that no one, including his son, could find out where she really came from.
“I sort of dropped in to the area,” she shrugged, knowing how crazy she sounded. “I’m actually from Ca…….New York.”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a city in the east. How does a white woman get to be here, alone in the wilderness so far from there?”
Wow, he’s actually talking. Wrong topic, though.
Struggling to remember any of her early American history, she answered, “Well, I always wanted to see things beyond New York. I . . . I hooked up with some settlers down the Ohio River to St. Louis. One thing led to another and somehow I ended up here.” She shrugged again, averting her eyes. The lie sounded stupid even as she said it.
“There are no white people within a thousand miles from here. Who are you running from?”
“I’m not . . . ” She inhaled deeply. “Okay. I left a fiancée back home. I just needed to get away. That’s all . . . ”
Oh man, these half-truths were really hard. Aimee knew how utterly impossible it was for a white woman to be in these mountains in this day and age, especially alone, but she couldn’t think of one good scenario that was believable. She tried to keep it as vague as possible. She wasn’t completely lying, she told herself. She had been looking for a way to get away from Brad. Just days before meeting Zach, she had broken her engagement. He hadn’t taken it well. Brad never took “no” for an answer well. That was the problem.
“I don’t know this word…fiancée.” Daniel’s resonating voice pulled her thoughts back to the here and now.
“Um . . . my intended, betrothed, the man I was gonna marry,” Aimee explained.
Daniel’s face darkened, his body tensed. “Surely he is looking for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Aimee said confidently. “He has no idea where I am.”
“Who brought you this far from St. Louis?”
“N . . . no one,” Aimee stammered. Damn! This wasn’t going well. “I mean, I got separated from some people I was traveling with a few weeks ago.” Okay. Lie number two.
The vulnerability of her position occurred to her again.
Why did I agree to do this? Because you thought it was just some silly joke!
Daniel’s accusatory stare made her feel uncomfortable. She let out the breath she’d been holding after he turned his back to her once more to finish building the fire. When a sizeable blaze crackled in the hearth, he stood and headed for the door.
“Perhaps you’ll tell me the truth later.” He curtly left the cabin, sending one final look of contempt her way.
Daniel watched as the sun cast a golden glow around the mountains framing the valley. He needed to clear his head. He had expected Aimee to have a husband, but hearing her confirm it left him with an unsettled feeling in his gut. Someone promised in marriage, in his mind, was the same as being married. It gave him an odd feeling he couldn’t explain. Why should it matter to him? The sooner he was rid of her, the better. This woman evoked a jumble of mixed reactions in him, leaving him agitated and confused. He had always been in control of his emotions, whether confronting an enemy, facing a predatory animal, or in the presence of a woman.
His mind recalled the events of the day, and her odd behavior. He’d observed in perplexed fascination when she’d stretched her sore body. Those postures had only brought more awareness to her womanly curves. The entire morning, his mind had been on nothing but her shapely exposed legs, and the fragrant scent of the soap she had used on her face and hair had played havoc with his senses. She seemed completely unaware of what she was doing to him. Her actions irritated and bewildered him. No decent woman behaved in such a manner, and definitely not alone in front of a man.
Her radiant smiles had left him mesmerized, while her sparkling blue eyes reminded him of some of the azure hot water pools he frequently encountered. He’d stood and watched, consumed by her loveliness. Visions danced before his eyes of a beaver lured by the enticing scent on one of his traps. The beaver struggled to break free as the trap snapped shut. Except in these visions, he was the beaver, and this little slip of a woman was the trap. In his mind’s eye, the face of the enticing female he’d found morphed into another fair skinned woman’s face, one he hadn’t thought about in years. One he had never wanted to think about again.
He threw more wood on his campfire. He had expected this little woman to demand more time to rest. Riding on the travois couldn’t have been comfortable, yet she had uttered no words of complaint. He’d concealed his surprise earlier in the day when she told him she’d try to keep up, expecting to walk on her injured foot. She sure had grit, he had to give her that, especially for such a little thing. Especially for a white woman!
Admittedly, she fascinated him. She had shown amazing strength and resilience so far. The way his body reacted to her nearness, not to mention when he touched her, evoked foreign feelings in him. The memory of her arms wrapped around his neck, and the way she clung to him when he carried her through the river sent a fresh wave of desire through him. Good thing she hadn’t been able to see the evidence of his body’s reaction to her at the time.
Images of another white woman kept infiltrating his mind. Outwardly, the only thing Aimee and Emma shared in common was their fair skin - enough of a reminder of the hurt and betrayal he had suffered so many years ago. Daniel learned from his mistakes. He never made the same ones twice. His survival here in this harsh and unforgiving land depended on it.
Why did she lie to him? She is a white woman. They all lie! What a ridiculous story! A woman did not travel alone from New York to this wild land. Impossible. It was a difficult enough journey to travel from St Louis up the Missouri, then south along the E-chee-dick-karsh-ah-shay - the Elk River to the Sheep Eater band of Shoshoni, and he’d also heard it called the River of Yellow Rocks by other tribes and French trappers. Not many men were hardy enough to make the journey. She had to have run away from her man somewhere nearby. He hoped Elk Runner would have some answers for him in a few days, or else he would start searching for her man himself. But could he return Aimee to a man from whom she felt the need to run away? She was not his to keep if her man showed up, regardless of whether she wanted to go back to him or not.
Stop thinking about this! This woman is nothing to you. Frustrated, he strode back into his cabin. Aimee sat on the bed, unwrapping her foot. Her head popped up, and her eyes met his with an expectant look. Daniel lit a lantern on the table to give her more light to see by. He removed his traveling pouch and hung it on a peg on the wall next to the door. He took out the leftover meat from his pouch, and placed some on a tin plate, which he set on the table, along with his water bag. Grabbing a buffalo robe off the other bunk, he left the cabin again with the rest of the meat.
*****
Aimee’s gaze lingered on the closed door. She didn’t know what to think of Daniel. He wasn’t anything like what she had expected. Then again, she really hadn’t given it much thought before - maybe a younger version of friendly Zach Osborne, but certainly not this dark and intimidating, yet absolutely gorgeous woodsman. One moment, he did things that were kind and thoughtful, the next he gave her looks of complete contempt and even hatred.
She bit off a piece of meat, and chewed it like gum to soften it. She took up her crutch and went outside. The last of the sunlight was quickly disappearing into the western horizon, and the clear twilight sky produced millions of twinkling stars. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms while absorbing the tranquil scene. The rippling sounds of flowing water from the Madison mixed with mournful calls of loons seeking out their mates. The eerie howl of a lone wolf resonated off the mountains. Moments later, the high-pitched barking of several coyotes in the distance advertised they had made a kill.
She barely made out Daniel’s silhouette sitting on the ground some distance away from the cabin. He had built a fire, over which hung a kettle on a metal tripod. Just like camping. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. If he noticed her, he didn’t acknowledge it. She hobbled a short distance into the trees behind the cabin to relieve herself.
“Good night,” she called, waiting by the door for a response. None came, and she reluctantly entered the dark cabin and shut the door. She would have much rather sat outside by the fire for a while, but something told her Daniel would not appreciate her company. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t used to being around people, and especially not women. What a challenge the solitude would be for her.
Zach had told her to stay at the cabin, that Daniel would help her. What if Zach had misjudged his son, and Daniel would send her away once her foot healed? His demeanor towards her made it quite obvious he didn’t want her here. How would she get back to her own time if he sent her packing, and Zach couldn’t find her when he returned? And how much would Daniel press her for the truth on how she got here? Not that he would believe the truth any more than the stupid lies she had told him so far.
Yeah, you see, your father never told you this, but he travels through time and I met him in the Twenty-First Century. There’s a lot you don’t know, but it’s not my place to tell you.
As she sank down onto her bunk, Aimee felt completely safe for the first time in almost a week. She sighed contently and snuggled into the pile of soft furs, pulling several over herself. At least tonight she would sleep warm and comfortably.
*****
Aimee woke the next morning, feeling more rested than she had since the beginning of this “trip.” With some satisfaction, she took note that her head didn’t spin as it had the last couple of days, and she wasn’t seeing black spots in front of her eyes each time she sat up. Her ankle was definitely not throbbing anymore unless she moved it suddenly. The bandage had loosened up as well, a good indication that the swelling was going down.
Sunlight filtered in through some burlap nailed to the wall, which covered the only window opening, and she wondered how long she had slept. When she stood, she noticed a tin plate on the table filled with fresh wild strawberries, some pine nuts, and pieces of dried meat. Her stomach grumbled loudly. All she’d eaten the day before was dried jerky. Next to the plate stood a tin cup with coffee, although it was cold.
Daniel’s thoughtfulness surprised her yet again. She pulled on her hiking pants, picked up her crutch, and opened the cabin door, squinting against the bright sunlight. She stepped outside and went behind the cabin into the trees. Glancing around when she came back, Daniel was nowhere to be seen. She left the cabin door open to allow more light to enter the room, and picked up the tin cup to savor her first sip of coffee in a week.
“Yuck!” Her face contorted in a grimace. She forced the bitter brew down her throat with a shudder. “I wonder if he’s got any sugar around here.”
After brushing her hair and dabbing Neosporin on her cuts, she hobbled in the direction of the river. She had been here many times before, but the experience was so different now with no one else around. The early morning air stung her lungs with each breath she inhaled. Enthralled, she watched the steam rise from the waters of the Firehole River. It came rushing out of the mountain, merging with the Gibbon to form the Madison. Across the river, several cow elk grazed the succulent grasses just in front of the tree line. The geothermal heat radiating from the ground met the cold air above, giving the scene an eerily primordial feel as the entire meadow was covered in a layer of thick fog.
Several hours passed, and Daniel still hadn’t made an appearance. Where had he gone off to? It was really none of her business. She was here uninvited, after all. Well, at least not invited by him.
With nothing to do after her walk by the river, she perused the objects in the cabin more closely. Several burlap sacks were stashed in a corner. Upon closer inspection, and to her delight, they contained flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt, and even several types of root vegetables. Another sack was filled with what she guessed to be gunpowder. On one of the shelves she found a crock full of some sort of animal fat or lard, and some dried strips of meat hung from a crude wooden rack.
An idea took hold in her mind. She scooped a small amount of flour into a wooden bowl, added water and several leftover berries from her breakfast. She covered the bowl with a piece of burlap, and set it on the hearth by the fireplace.
“Hopefully, we’ll have some nice sourdough starter in a couple of days, and I can bake some bread,” she said with a satisfied smile.
Figuring she could put the backcountry cooking course she had taken a year ago to some good use now, Aimee wondered if Daniel would appreciate a warm meal when he returned. She cut some meat and placed it in a bowl of water to soften. She peeled and diced some of the vegetables, and made a fry bread batter with flour and cornmeal. Talking to herself was more comforti
ng than the complete silence, and soon she was singing out loud.
*****
Daniel had almost reached his cabin, several rabbits slung over his shoulder, when he smelled an unfamiliar odor in the air. It was definitely food, and it made his mouth water. “What the hell.” The realization hit him that the smell came from the direction of his cabin. Despite being worn out from lack of sleep, he increased his pace.
Last night he had sat by the fire, unable to sleep for the second night in a row. He had been acutely aware when Aimee came out of the cabin. What was he going to do with her? He felt obligated to protect her from the harshness of this land and its countless dangers. Somehow he had to figure out how to get her back to civilization.
For the better part of the day, he’d been checking his traps, and scouted along creeks and tributaries of the Madison for beaver habitat that would make good trapping sites for later this fall. When his father returned from St Louis in a few months, they could start setting traps for winter beavers. But his thoughts kept wandering to the woman he had left behind at his cabin.
He had gone inside quietly at dawn with some food and coffee, and found himself staring longingly at her sleeping form on his bed. He remembered all too well the previous night, how her soft woman’s body had molded itself to his side. Would she be as welcoming now if he slipped into bed next to her? Daniel had left the cabin aroused and frustrated.
The most bothersome thing was that, regardless of her lies and fair skin, he wanted her. Had some French trapper found her, she would have most likely been raped many times over by now. Daniel cursed out loud at the thought. No one would lay a hand on her while she was living in his cabin. The only problem was that he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep his own hands off her.
He loped easily up the rise that led to the small valley, and his cabin came into view. Smoke rose from the chimney, and the door stood wide open. From inside, a woman’s voice was . . . singing. He’d never heard this kind of singing before.
Yellowstone Heart Song Page 5
