by Regina Scott
“Beautifully put.” She sighed. “And too true, I suspect.”
James glanced up to grin at her. “You suspect? How long did your first love last, Rina?”
She fussed with her skirts again, twitching them this way and that as if their drape could not please her. “Less time than that fire, most likely.” She cleared her throat. “What about you?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” He rocked back on his heels to survey the now brightly glowing fire. “From the day I first saw those steeldusts until now.”
“I so regret I cost you your horses.”
She sounded as if she might cry again. He couldn’t have that. He felt as if her pain reached down to the secret place where he’d hidden his.
“I’ll get them back,” he said, rising. “As soon as we’re settled. Pa didn’t hold much with thieving, and neither do I.”
“How long has he been gone?” she asked.
James dusted his hands off on his trousers, careful not to get any of her clothing dirtier than necessary. “Ten years. But I’ll never forget him.” The smoke must have gotten into his eyes, for they were tearing. He waved a hand as he turned. “Where are my manners? I promised you a feast.” He strode to where he’d dropped the food he’d gathered, scooped it up and brought it to her.
“The finest victuals for your table, ma’am,” he proclaimed. “The green leafy things are miner’s lettuce, as fine a vegetable as you could want. These crooked little fellows are the roots of the young bracken fern—if you chew on them, they taste just like potatoes. And these are mushrooms.”
“What’s good about mushrooms?” she asked, picking up a thick stalk and eyeing the umbrella-like growth at the top.
“They don’t stick in your teeth,” he said.
She giggled, and gooseflesh pimpled his arms. This was more like it.
He perched on the log beside her as they ate and kept up a steady string of silly comments, all the while determining their next steps. He’d started building them a nest in the tree, but he still needed a way to help her reach it.
“It appears to be going out again,” she said, frown aimed at the fire as if daring it to behave.
“It is, but by design,” he replied, rising. “We can’t stay down here all night to tend it.”
She rose as well. “Why not? Fire would seem our best defense.”
“A good defense,” he qualified. “It’s also a beacon—letting others know we’re in the woods. The only people out this far are not the sort I would introduce to a lady.”
“I see.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, one hand cupping the other. It was a sure sign, he was coming to realize, that she was uncomfortable with the situation. “And after we sleep,” she said, “how much farther must we walk to reach Mr. McKenzie’s?”
“A ways,” he qualified. He gestured to the now meager pile of food. “But we have food, strong legs and clever minds. We’ll have no trouble making it back.”
“You usually lie better than that.”
He refused to let her see his fear. “Lie, ma’am? I try not to lie. I might color up a drab story or make a quip to bring a smile, but I rarely utter a falsehood.”
She put her hands on her hips. “A truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.”
“Now that,” James said, “sounds like a schoolmarm.”
Far too close to hand, something large pushed its way through the brush. She must have heard it, too, for suddenly she was right next to him.
“What was that?”
Fear raised her voice another octave, but there was no time for him to explain his plan.
“I need you to trust me,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and pressing her back against the biggest tree. “I won’t leave you, I promise. Stay here.” He leaped and caught the lowest branch and hauled himself up into the tree.
* * *
He expected her to simply stand here while danger thundered closer? She wanted to run, to hide. How could she simply trust he knew what he was doing, that he’d be there to protect her when she needed him?
Because he’d been there every other time.
She straightened her shoulders and slowed her panicked breathing. James would make good on his promise; she had to believe that. And she had to take herself in hand and be alert to help his plans.
So she stayed against the tree, ears straining for any other sound from the woods. The croaks and chirps she’d heard earlier had gone silent, as if everything was intent on escaping the notice of something larger, more predatory. She could barely make out the shapes of the bushes and trees in the growing darkness. Were those eyes watching her? The breath of something hungry brushing her skirts?
“Grab this,” James called, and something fell from above. She reached up and caught a loop of wool. It seemed he’d twisted her shawl together with other pieces of clothing to make a rope of sorts.
“Sit in it like a swing,” James instructed.
The bushes to her right crackled as they parted to something massive. A smell came with it, like a wet dog that had played in the stables too long. When Clay Howard had taught them aboard ship about making their way in the wild, he’d said that stench was the best way to know a bear was in the area. She yanked down on the sling and wiggled into the seat.
“Hold on,” James said.
The sling edged up as the bear lumbered closer. The fur on its back brushed her skirts, and she sucked in a breath, but the beast headed for the log and the remains of their dinner.
The sling inched higher and higher still. In the light of the dying fire, she saw the creature’s head turn, the blaze reflecting on its beady eyes as they fixed on her.
The sling jerked to a halt.
“Sorry,” James said. “Caught on a branch. Give me a moment.”
She didn’t have a moment. The bear was turning, moving, heading her way. Glancing up, she made out a branch just above her. She reached up, grasped it and pulled.
The sling fell away, leaving her dangling.
Something bumped her boots. She didn’t dare look down to see if it was the sling or a snout. If she could haul on the reins to slow a team of racing horses, surely she could pull herself over the branch. She drew in a breath and tried.
One shoulder made it up, but already she could feel her muscles straining. If only she could find purchase with her feet, but she was afraid to swing them lest she hit the bear and make it mad.
Mad enough to come up after them.
Fingers clawing at the bark, she started to slip.
Stronger arms wrapped around hers, helping her. In a moment, she was sitting on the branch.
Below them, the bear growled, the rumble vibrating along her nerves and setting them to tingling.
“We need to get a little higher,” James urged her. He was standing against the tree, feet braced. “He’s big enough that he won’t chance following us on the lighter branches.”
She wasn’t so sure. Even now, the brute was sniffing around the base of the tree, as if intent on finding a way up. Beside her, James caught the next branch above them and pulled himself over it until his belly rested on the bark and his arms hung down. “Take my hands,” he ordered.
Trying not to think about the bear, Rina slipped her hands into his. James slid over the branch, pulling her up as he went down. As her face passed his, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Sorry,” he said as he landed below her. “Couldn’t resist.”
She perched on the branch and drew in a breath before glancing down. Then her breath left in a rush. James was standing on the branch, but the bear had reared up on its hind legs, putting its teeth level with James’s knees.
“Jump!” Rina cried, scrambling to her feet.
Instead, James raised both
hands beside his face and wiggled his fingers. “Yah! Get out of here, you old monster! Go!”
The bear dropped down.
Rina hugged the trunk as James climbed up beside her. “That was amazing,” she told him. “You were so brave.”
“Not so brave,” he demurred with a shrug. “Bears are big cowards, unless you surprise a sow and her cubs. Make enough noise, and they generally clear off.”
Rina hazarded a glance down. The space below the tree seemed to be empty. No shadows moved around the fire. “Should we go back down?”
“Not tonight,” James told her. “We’ll sleep up here.”
“Up here?” Rina straightened so fast she nearly lost her balance. James caught her arm and steadied her.
“See there how the trunk separates?” he said with a nod toward the center. “There’s room for you on one branch and me on the other. We can use your clothing for padding and warmth. We’ll be snug enough.”
Entirely too snug. She could see that he had gone to great lengths to build them a safe place to spend the night. But while she might hope to live to see tomorrow, her future was very much in jeopardy.
What school would hire her when it became known that she’d spent the night alone with a man who was not a member of her family?
* * *
James felt rather pleased as he settled against the tree for the night. Rina was safely nestled nearby, tied to the branch with one of her shawls so she couldn’t fall as she slept. He’d looped his belt over a branch for the same effect. Her cloak was draped over the top of them like a tent to keep off any rain. The entire setup was a masterpiece of ingenuity, if he said so himself. It would shelter them from the cold, catch any rain for drinking tomorrow and hide them from the curious gaze of passing predators. Not bad for the least talented member of the Wallin family. He laid his head back and smiled.
Until he heard the sniffle on the other side of the tree.
He shifted so he could see her body pressed against the branch. “Now, then, Rina,” he murmured. “It will all come right. You’ll see.”
“I...I believe it might,” she said, doubt evident in every word.
James sighed. “You picked the worst of us to get stranded with, you know. Now, if Drew was here, he’d swing his ax and cut a path straight through the trees to Seattle.”
“If he’d brought his ax with him,” she said, voice beginning to regain its usual tone. “And the robbers allowed him to keep it.”
“And Simon,” James continued undaunted, “why, he’d brook no nonsense and keep you walking all night to make it back faster.”
“We’d have to sleep sometime,” she protested.
James smiled in the dark. “Ah, but if John was here, he could probably figure out the distance to the nearest navigable stream and float you back to Seattle.”
“Or wherever the stream let out on the Sound,” she argued. “If we could even navigate as far as the Sound. I think your plan is the wisest.”
That was a first. “I suppose time will tell,” he allowed, pleased that she’d stopped crying at least.
“What about Levi?” she asked.
James frowned at her outline. “Levi?”
He heard a rustle as if she’d turned to look at him.
“Yes,” she said. “You told me how your other brothers would have dealt with the situation. What about Levi?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” James laid back again. “Levi would have left everyone behind and set off on his own, as far from Seattle as he could get. That is, until Beth caught up with him and hauled him home.”
She giggled. He loved that sound. It made him feel tremendously clever.
“Now, Ma,” he said, warming to his theme, “would never have gotten stranded to begin with. She would have looked those robbers in the eyes and told them how their mothers would feel about such behavior.”
She giggled again. “And Catherine?”
“She’d have dosed them with tonic water.”
“A shame we neglected to bring any. What about your father?”
“He...” James swallowed. Try as he might, he couldn’t joke about that. “He would have taken you safely to the White River. Pa didn’t make many mistakes. Even in the end, it wasn’t his fault he missed the widow-maker.”
“Widow-maker?” All laughter had fled from her voice. “What’s that?”
“Sometimes a big branch breaks loose on one of these trees.” Why was it so hard to explain? He felt as if he’d gone hoarse. “It snaps partway through in a windstorm or gets snagged on another branch. When you start chopping or sawing at the tree, the vibration works the broken branch loose, and down it comes. If you’re under it at the time, it can break your arm or leg or worse.”
“And your father failed to see it?” She sounded surprised. No more so than the rest of them had been.
“No one saw it,” he said, remembering. “It was just Pa, Drew, Simon and me on the logging team back then. John and Levi were too young to help. I was nearly too young myself, so Pa gave me a simple job. I was supposed to be the lookout, the one who watched the tree and the area around it and warned the others of any danger. And I never saw that branch.”
“You were just a boy,” she murmured. “If your father and brothers missed it, you cannot blame yourself for failing to notice it.”
“It was my job to notice!” His voice was rising, and he forced it to lower. “I was bored, so I started thinking about other things—a pocket watch I hoped to purchase, the ax I’d use one day. Next thing I knew, Pa was down, and all I could do was help Drew and Simon pull the branch off him.”
His stomach tightened at the memory. Pa had lain there, so still, staring up at the sky, ordering Drew to take his place as head of the family. He had never spoken to James, never looked his way. And then, he’d simply gone. James had turned and retched.
He felt a hand on his foot now, soft, gentle.
“I know it must be difficult to imagine,” she murmured, “but you are very fortunate. You grew up knowing your father, learning from him. You knew he loved you.”
He’d thought Pa had loved him. James could remember Pa laughing at some of his jokes. Why hadn’t Pa looked his way? Why hadn’t Pa forgiven him for his mistake? Perhaps because what he’d done was unforgivable.
“How horrid and unfair that he was taken from you,” she continued. “But I think his death hurts so much because of that love.”
“But that’s the thing about love,” James said. “You can’t control who gives it to you, how they respond, when they decide to leave. You have to give it not knowing whether it will ever be returned. It’s a crazy thing.”
“Perhaps, but I envy you. I cannot remember my real parents. I was adopted by a couple who had no other children.”
How different from his life. And small wonder she seemed daunted by his large, boisterous family. “They must have wanted you if they adopted you,” he pointed out.
“In some ways.” Now her voice was growing as dim as her silhouette. “But being an only child, I never had sisters or brothers, cousins or aunts and uncles. It was just me and the Fosgraves until they were gone. That’s why I hated to part with that pocket watch the thieves took. It is one of the last things I have from a happier time.”
She sounded so sad, so lost, that he didn’t press her on how they’d died. He knew how much it hurt to remember Pa’s death. Perhaps they’d been an elderly couple. Perhaps they’d met with an accident like Pa. Whatever the reason for their loss, he felt her pain once more.
“You have a chance for another family,” he told her. “There are plenty of fellows here around Seattle. One of them might strike your fancy. Next thing you know, you’ll be married with children of your own.”
“We should try to get some sleep,” she said. “I fear tomorrow will be
a long, difficult day. Thank you, James, for everything. I would have perished a dozen ways by now without your help.”
“Pretty sure it only takes one way to perish,” he teased her. “But you’re welcome. It was my honor.”
He heard the clothing rustle as she settled for the night.
But he couldn’t settle. He’d meant what he’d said. It was his honor to protect her. He understood that now in ways he never had before Pa had died.
But beyond honor, he knew protection was also a debt he owed her. He’d brought her out here. He had to see her safely home.
But he knew he couldn’t do that by himself. He’d joined his family every Sunday for worship services, singing hymns, listening to Drew or Simon or John read from the Bible. They seldom asked him to read; they were all too afraid he’d add something to the story or make a joke about the passage. He’d always thought God must have a sense of humor. After all, He’d created James. Perhaps that thought was why the prayer came more easily than usual.
Trying to atone isn’t working out so well, Lord. I brought a schoolteacher, but she didn’t stick. Now, we’re the ones stuck, where only You know the directions. I wish You’d share them with me because I’m running out of ideas.
The sigh of the breeze was his only answer.
You don’t have to talk to me. I figure I haven’t earned that, either. But maybe, for Rina’s sake, You could help us live to tell the tale.
The branches above him shifted with the breeze, brushing aside Rina’s cloak for a moment, and he caught a clear glimpse of the sky. The North Star gleamed in the darkness.
James dug his nail into the bark, marking the compass. If that was north, then McKenzie’s and Seattle lay just to the left. That’s where he’d head tomorrow.
He could pray only to stay strong and focused for her, instead of failing her the way he had his father.
Chapter Fourteen
Rina wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. One moment she was listening to James tell a story about trying to swim across Lake Union all the way to Mt. Rainier and pretending she didn’t hear the rustles and creaks of the forest around her. The next moment, she was opening her eyes to sunlight shafting through the trees. She blinked, remembering where she was and how she’d gotten here. Turning carefully, she saw James a few feet away.
