Hero for Christmas

by Pierson, Cheryl

  When she thought of staying here, in 1864, it made her chest grow tight; and whether from dread or anticipation, she wasn't certain. Maybe things would be clearer if she had a future to look forward to in either place. But, going back to her own time was a dismal prospect. The small efficiency apartment she rented was like living in a saltine box, and her job as a secretary was as dead-end as it could possibly be. Perhaps it was because her heart wasn't in it – any of it. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit what she'd always wanted for her life was nothing like what she had. She'd envisioned her life, as being far more settled than it was. She'd hoped, at least, to have found the man of her dreams by now, and be working toward a future together, the two of them.

  Jake reached out to take her hand in his. Her fingers were red and cold. He shook his head. "I've got an extra pair of gloves." He walked toward the edge of the trees where Robin had left his bedroll. She'd tried to fold the blanket neatly, laying it atop his saddle and saddlebag. Kneeling in the snow, he searched inside the leather pouches for the gloves.

  Once he located them, she gratefully pulled them on. "Thank you. I'll be careful with them."

  He nodded. "You said this will be over, soon."

  "In April."

  Jake glanced around, and Robin felt his unease. He wanted to talk to her, but there was no privacy in the encampment.

  "Walk with me, will you?"

  Robin fell into step beside Jake. She could tell he was shortening his strides, slowing his steps, for her benefit.

  She was unused to walking over the rough, uneven terrain, made slippery with snow. But Jake's hands always seemed to be there to steady her. When she took a faltering step at the top of a hill, his arm came around her. Electricity ran through her, and he stopped moving, turning her slowly toward him. They stood beside a big stone, dusted by snow. The world was like a sugar-coated fairy tale, Robin thought, and as she looked up into Jake's face, he gave her a slow smile, as if he'd read her thoughts.

  His glove-encased hands came up to frame her face. He started to speak, but shook his head, his eyes looking past her. She moved into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her next to him as he had all night.

  She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his body; the clean, masculine scent that was uniquely his; the feel of another human being holding her this way. She might never have this again. If only it meant something! But she barely knew this man, despite the easiness between them that had been there since he'd tackled her and rolled her down to the riverbank. That brought a smile to her lips. No matter what, she'd have her memories of this odd time in her life.

  "Why won't the general let me go back now?" The question was out before she could stop it. She felt Jake stiffen, but he didn't release her. "I'd never betray you to anyone."

  Jake nodded against the top of her head. "I know that. But he…feels maybe he'd sleep better knowing you were back in your own time for certain. The best way to ensure that is to go through the time doorway when it's most likely to be there. We've had reports of some Union troop movements by ship up the river here that we've got to be ready for. It's unlikely to happen today or tomorrow, but you can't provide any distractions."

  Robin raised her head slowly to look up into Jake's handsome features. "And…am I a distraction to you, Jake?"

  He moistened his lips. "The biggest distraction I could ever have," he murmured softly.

  Her arms went up, circling slowly around his neck. "I…don't mean to be."

  He lowered his head a fraction. "It doesn't matter, Robbi."

  Her lips tilted up to touch his in the whisper-soft brush of a kiss. "Jake—"

  The longing in his name upon her lips was only overshadowed by the want. He answered her soft plea with all the pent-up desire he'd fought back since the kiss they'd shared in the night.

  His mouth came across hers searingly, branding her as his own with no words needed.

  She opened her lips to him, and he groaned. His hands went to the back of her head, pulling her close, yet cradling her tenderly as he traced the inviting contours of her mouth.

  Robin's heart pounded furiously against his broad chest. His ready possession of her answered an ache long buried in her soul, igniting the need she had pushed back and kept at bay for years.

  He lifted his mouth from hers for a moment, his breathing hard and ragged. "Robin…distract me again."

  She laughed softly and pulled him back to her, joy filling her heart.

  Chapter Five

  Perfect. She'd felt that way in his arms last night, and the feeling was still there, now. But how? He barely knew her, but when he looked into her eyes it was as if they had some kind of understanding between them. Still…she hadn't said she'd be staying, Jake thought. So he had to assume she still planned to go back to her own time.

  Right now, he was in no position to offer her anything. And April was a long time away. Even then, he was going to a homestead that might be there…and might not. Maybe…things weren't so perfect. Maybe there was nothing left to go home to at all.

  But this was perfect. Robin Mallory and Jake Devlin. His fingers caught in her hair, though he couldn't feel the warm softness – not with these damn gloves on.

  There was a sound behind him that wasn't natural. He lifted his lips from hers. One glance at her questioning expression let him know she'd heard it, too.

  A bullet whined past them, a scant two inches from Jake's ear. "Let's go!" He grabbed Robin's hand and began to run through the snow-covered trees, making for the riverbank a few yards from where they'd been standing. When her feet slipped, he caught her, steadied her, and kept himself between her and the sniper.

  Another shot sounded behind them, and Jake quelled the urge to turn around and look to see if the shooter was in view. He knew by the timing of the sound and the distance the bullet traveled before it sang over their heads, that they were gaining ground on their assailants.

  "Run, Robin," he panted, when her steps began to flag.

  "I'm trying—"

  He didn't answer. He knew he'd need every bit of breath to outdistance their pursuers, and help Robin in their flight to safety. There was a cave, not far from here. They started down the embankment toward the river. They'd be in the open for a few yards before reaching the shelter of the trees again.

  Robin stumbled, and Jake reached to give her a hand. An arrow ripped through the flesh of his thigh, scorching a trail of lightning deep into his skin. He cried out in mingled pain and surprise as his leg folded under him. Robin stopped and turned, dropping to kneel beside him.

  "Jake!"

  He looked up into her face. She was frightened, understandably; but her concern for him outweighed any other emotion in her expression.

  "Leave me," he panted, grasping the shaft of the arrow and breaking it off close to the skin. Cheyenne markings.

  "Forget it." She tugged at his arm, trying to help him to his feet. "Can you walk?"

  The determination in her tone brooked no disagreement. Besides, there was no time for it. Jake forced himself to struggle up and they started for the riverbank once more. Another shot came from behind them, but they'd just managed to enter the outer fringe of trees, the recesses of the woods offering welcome shelter.

  "Where?" she asked breathlessly.

  Jake nodded. "Straight ahead. There's – there's a cave up here. Not far."

  Robin's eyes filled with anxiety.

  "I'm okay," he reassured her. "Let's just get safe." The pain had become a constant throb of fire with each step, the embedded arrowhead moving against flesh. Jake cast a glance behind him. There was no movement. Their attackers must have decided that following them into the woods was not the most prudent thing to do.

  Jake and Robin's steps slowed as they made their way toward the mouth of the cave. Ahead, across the river, the entrance beckoned, partially hidden behind a wall of scrubby brush. Jake had to get off his leg. The bleeding was bad, and the pain was not going to let up – not
as long as he was walking.

  Robin reached to take the rifle from him, and he gave it to her with a reluctant sigh.

  She smiled. "I'll take good care of it."

  "The river's shallow here, and narrow, but we'll be in the open for a few seconds." He motioned for her to go on. "You…get ahead of me. In front."

  "Jake…"

  "Don't argue," he told her sharply. "If you get shot, how will you get back to your time?" He didn't wait for an answer, though she looked as if she badly wanted to say something. She started ahead of him, his hand at her back, his gait made awkward by the hole in his thigh and the embedded length of the arrow. The pain was more excruciating with each step he took, and twice, he almost went to his knees, barely able to regain his balance at the last moment.

  The river was low here, barely flowing across the tops of their boots, but the footing was rocky and slippery. Robin was careful to hold the rifle aloft as she slogged through the running water. Jake kept close to her back, cursing his own earlier lack of awareness. But how could he have been aware of anything other than the kiss he shared with Robin? Just thinking of it now, and the emotions that moment had awakened in him, eased the pain in his leg a bit. At least, it gave him something good to think about.

  He didn't believe they had been followed into the woods, but he wouldn't take any chances with Robin's welfare. He couldn't help but smile at the way she held the rifle up so carefully as she tried to keep her balance on the rocky river bottom.

  Maybe he should have tried to circle around and get her back to camp. But they'd been so close, the others couldn't help but hear the gunshots. Ray Campbell would figure out where Jake had taken Robin, eventually. He and Ray knew this part of the river and surrounding woods like their own names. It was the closest safe place. But, would whoever had been trying to kill them know it, too?

  Jake very much doubted Union troops would be familiar with the area, and that gave him hope. If gunshots had been their only worry, Jake would have felt much easier about it all. But the Cheyenne arrow in his flesh put a new light on everything. All bets were off, now. Not knowing who pursued them had made his split second decision to try for the cave an easier one.

  Robin took her first step onto the dry shore, and Jake was just behind her. The cave couldn't be seen to the untrained eye, but Jake had grown up here. It was the perfect place to hole up a while and rest. He needed that right now, he thought grimly. He'd lost a lot of blood, just in a few short minutes.

  "Which way?" Robin was breathing deeply, trying to catch her breath. She turned to look at him, her concern obvious. He must look like hell. He knew the run had taken its toll. Blood flowed freely down the inside of his leg, soaking the buckskin breeches he wore.

  He pushed past her, feeling the weakness in his limbs. "Here." He parted the two shrubs at the mouth of the entrance, then turned to take the rifle from her as she followed him through the opening.

  * * * * *

  The cave was larger than she'd anticipated from the size of the entrance. Though they'd had to stoop to enter, once inside, the walls seemed to open up, and the ceiling was high enough to allow them to stand.

  Jake reached behind him to take her hand, then kept moving toward the back of the cave, through the darkness, until it began to grow light again. They'd not traveled more than fifteen or twenty feet, Robin thought. They came to a place where the floor was smooth and level, and she could see the source of the light was an opening not far above their heads. The cave had a double entrance, but this second one would have barely permitted Jake's broad shoulders to pass through, and was in the ceiling.

  Jake sank down on the floor of the cave near the wall, leaning back against it. In the dim light, Robin could see the grim lines of pain and determination etched in his handsome features. He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. His head rested on the wall behind him.

  "Someone you know?" Robin gestured toward the wound. She knelt beside him, then sat on her knees, legs folded under her.

  He opened his eyes slowly. "We're about to find out, if you've got the stomach for it."

  Robin's pulse leapt. "What – what do you mean?"

  "Can you get this arrowhead out?" His gaze met hers once more. "If you don't think you can do it, Robbi…it's okay. I'll manage—"

  "No! Oh, Jake—" How could he think she'd allow such a thing? He would be mindless with pain – she couldn't sit by wringing her hands while he tried to treat himself. "I'll do it. Just – Just tell me how." She moistened her lips.

  Anything could go wrong. What if something happened and he didn't survive? She didn't know how to get back to the camp – if it was even still there. She had no water, no medicine – she couldn't even go for help.

  As if he sensed the direction her thoughts had taken, he gave her a slow, heart-stopping smile. "Robin, it's going to all be okay. I need to see that arrowhead."

  "Why?"

  "Arrowheads are like a signature. You can tell which tribe made it – sometimes, you can even tell which person made it."

  He pulled a knife from the leather sheath at his belt and flipped it easily, handing it to her haft first. "I need to know who we're dealing with. See if it truly is someone I know."

  She wrapped her fingers around the handle, feeling the warmth of the metal, where it had taken the heat of his body.

  "It's sharp," he said quietly. "Take care and don't hurt yourself."

  Tears sprang to Robin's eyes. How could he think of her at a time like this? How?

  "There's no other way."

  She sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

  "Robin. Don't. We'll manage this." He grinned crookedly. "Like I said, the knife's sharp and that's…a blessing," he finished. There was a hint of resignation in his tone. "Let's get it done."

  She nodded. "Tell me what I need to do."

  He reached to touch her, then stopped and pulled off his gloves, laying them on the cave floor. His rough palm cupped her cheek, and she couldn't help but turn her face into his hand, closing her eyes.

  "It's pretty straightforward," he said. "You just…cut the hole bigger in my skin – over the arrowhead. From the way it feels—" he grimaced, "you won't have to cut too deeply. It must be nearly all the way through."

  "I'll do whatever I need to do, Jake." Just thinking of how badly he must be hurting made a knot form in her chest. The idea of what she was going to do with the knife she held brought an accompanying shakiness to her hands, a dryness to her mouth.

  "Shh, Robin—" He pulled her to him and held her on his good left side, close to his body. She felt him kiss the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Sorry this happened. Sorry you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "If you say you're sorry I was with you—" she broke off, drawing a deep, ragged breath.

  "No." His voice was raspy and soft all at once. "I – couldn't ever say that. Selfish of me, I guess—" He reached to lift her chin, to force her to look him in the eye. "But I could never be sorry for that."

  "Me, either."

  A quick, unguarded look of surprise passed over his features at her half-whispered admission.

  "Yesterday was a very good day for me."

  She gave him a shaky smile. "For me, too."

  Jake's lips quirked in spite of the pain. "Yeah – it's not every day you get thrown to the ground and rolled down to the riverbank."

  Chapter Six

  Jake lay on the floor of the cave beside the small fire they'd built. How often had he laid just so in this shelter, the fire in the center of the room, the smoke drawn up and out through the small opening? The wood that had been stored by the wall was not what he'd left the last time he'd been here. That worried him, because the last time he'd used this cave had been at least two years ago, before he had joined up with Watie, and Ray had been with him.

  The wood was considerably fresher than what they'd left, and stacked differently. Someone else had frequented this cave; but
whether friend or foe, he couldn't be sure.

  Robin lay beside him, her head pillowed on his left arm. She wasn't asleep. He could feel the tension in her body, still.

  It had taken every ounce of her will to do what he'd asked of her – to cut the arrow out of his flesh, then pull it free. He'd cried out, unable to stop himself. With anyone else, he might have felt ashamed that he'd been unable to hold himself in check. But not with Robin.

  She'd done everything he asked, he thought grimly. Now, remembering the look of disbelief in her eyes as she'd opened the cartridge and poured the gunpowder into the gaping hole, he wondered if he'd pushed her too far. He should have done that himself. Although she dressed oddly, being from another time, anyone could see she was a lady, through and through.

  He should've had better sense than to ask a well-born lady to dig out a bloody arrowhead and then cauterize the wound with black powder.

  "Strike the match," he'd told her.

  The look of understanding that had come into her soft brown eyes, followed by the pity, had nearly been his undoing. In the end, she'd lit the match with fumbling fingers, but she couldn't bring herself to put it next to the wound, to start the fire trail in his flesh that would stop the bleeding.

  So, gently, he'd put his hand atop her blood-soaked fingers and guided the burning stick of wood to the wound, until it caught, and the intensity of the pain had brought him darkness. The last thing he'd seen was her eyes, holding his; her teeth caught in her lower lip; her delicate jaw set in determination.

  When he'd come to, only a few minutes later, she'd been sitting with his head in her lap, bathing his neck and face with a ragged piece of her clothing she'd torn away and wet with snow from the crusted opening above them.

  "Give me a few minutes," he said, looking up at her. "Keep the gun…handy." He'd drifted off again and slept, really slept. And now, looking up through the cave opening, he could see it had to be early afternoon, if he wasn't fooled by the hazy gray of the sky.