The Bearwalker's Daughter

by Beth Trissel

  “Awkward in her delicate condition.”

  Karin’s cheeks heated at his reference to her mother’s illicit pregnancy. “Perhaps a loose floorboard or a chink in the wall? Let’s spread out,” she said, not trusting herself to be this near him. “I’ll try the floor.”

  Not risking a backwards glance, she dropped to her knees on the dusty boards and hitched up her skirts. Crawling along, she prodded at the wood with her fingers. If a furtive place existed anywhere here she’d find it. Kindling crackled while rain squalled outside, but it was warm and safe in the cabin, except for Jack.

  Was any woman safe with him? Karin actually craved another heated kiss. Exasperated by her unruly emotions she pummeled the floor harder than necessary in her search.

  “Trying to pop those boards out?” he chuckled.

  Did nothing escape his notice?

  “Want my tomahawk? You could chop at them.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Take care not to injure those soft hands.”

  She sat back on her heels and lifted her eyes to where he stood running his hands over the log wall.

  “I’m not unused to work. Just because I’m not callused like you—” She halted at his grin.

  “Nary an inch of you is anything like me.”

  “And how would you know?” she shot back, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

  His grin only broadened.

  Cheeks flaming, she returned to this seemingly insurmountable task and her vain efforts to ignore Jack, accompanied by wind, rain, and fire.

  It occurred to Karin that her mother heard these same sounds that distant autumn, along with the clatter of the family going about their daily chores and the noise from the many animals that made up their lives. What thoughts had oppressed the distraught woman? Was it Karin’s father, alone? Why did he go?

  A dark weight from the past overshadowed the present. What did Jack know that he wasn’t saying? The mutterings in the wind were more insistent than ever, summoning Karin, though she didn’t know where.

  Oh, let the voices scream away. They told her nothing more than anyone else had.

  Knees sore, dispirited, she reached the other side of the room, no further ahead than before. Jack still stood at the wall, running his hands along the logs, probing each chink. “I’ve crawled over every inch,” she said. Straightening wearily, she sank down onto the bedstead. The straw ticking in the thin mattress supported her as she flopped onto her back and stared up at the darkened beams overhead. “The secrets of the past are well guarded.”

  “Or hidden beneath you.”

  She glanced around. He’d turned toward her, his partly shadowed features seeming perfectly sincere. “How so?”

  “Your mother spent her final hours where you lie now.”

  “And hid the necklace in the ticking? Impossible. Neeley replaced the straw. She would have seen it.”

  “Not if it were hidden below that.”

  “A lattice of hemp rope supports the mattress. You think it’s tucked inside?”

  ‘“Maybe.”

  Skeptical, she pushed up on her elbows to watch him stride across the room and kneel by the bedstead. She rolled onto her side on the musty blue coverlet as he bent over and looked under the bed. Flattened onto his stomach, he scooted partway beneath the frame.

  Curious despite herself, she asked, “See anything?”

  “Not yet.” He disappeared further beneath the bed. “Nothing up in the crisscross of hemp.”

  As she thought. Her spirits dipped.

  “Wait.” A note of excitement rose in his voice. “There’s something in the wall.”

  A thrill darted through her. “What?”

  “The light’s poor, but I spy a knothole. I’ll see if it’s loose.” A scrabbling sound ensued, likely him trying to work the knot from the wood. She strained to hear.

  “I’ve got it out, but my hand’s too large to reach inside. There’s an opening there, though.” He scooted back out, his hair draped with cobwebs. “Your hand’s smaller. See what you can do.” He brushed at his hair.

  Heart in her throat, she slid off the bed and squatted beside him on bruised knees. Bending over, she poked her head under the mattress and stared at the wall. The circular hole was just discernible in the logs, and the knot he’d loosened lay on the floor beside it. With a rush of anticipation and just as much trepidation, she crawled under the bed. Squirming closer, she blew a dusty web from her nose.

  How a woman swollen with child had managed this was beyond Karin. Maybe in her determination not to be robbed of the treasure, Mary McNeal had found a way. Hoping not to encounter nesting mice inside, or worse, Karin pushed her hand into the black space. Unbelievably, she closed her fingers around a smooth object, prickly in places, and ice cold.

  Gulping, she glanced back at Jack. “I’ve found something.”

  He lay on his stomach, peering after her. “Good girl! Take it out.”

  All these years it had been here, as if waiting for her. With near reverence, she drew the find from its hiding place. The weight felt strangely heavy in her hand. A tingling sensation prickled through her palm and she gaped at the dangling necklace.

  Jack gave a soft whistle. Karin scarcely heard him. She’d never seen, let alone imagined, anything like this. Clutching her treasure, she wormed out from under the bed and sat up. A pearl-white gemstone the size of a quail’s egg and cast with a bluish tinge hung at the necklace’s center. The iridescent play of light over its opaque surface fascinated her and she sidled nearer the fire to better see.

  Jack crouched beside her as she tilted it one way, then the other, intrigued by the ever-changing shimmer. Hammered metal, tarnished dull gray, encircled the fabulous stone and held it in place.

  “Silver?” she asked.

  “Yes. Polished, it would be splendid.”

  Rather than a chain made from links of the same metal, the magnificent stone was suspended from a narrow leather band. Stranger still, were the ten large claws attached to the cord. She glanced up at him wonderingly. “These are bear claws.”

  His eyes held a peculiar expression. “Not just any bear. A grizzly’s.”

  “I’ve heard grizzlies are frightfully fierce. My father must have been a great hunter.”

  “Who’s to say he isn’t still?”

  Jack’s question struck her, as did his odd demeanor. “You’re right. He may be much alive.” And it seemed as if the secreted necklace called to her, binding her to an unseen being. “What stone is this?”

  Fingering the quartz at his neck, Jack said, “I can tell you what it’s not. This is my pawawka token, taken from the bottom of the river after I proved myself with a hundred dives. The stone in that necklace is cut by a jeweler to reveal every facet and mounted in finely crafted silver.”

  She tried to fathom her find. “Yet it’s not hung from an expensive chain, but a leather cord like yours. And what can these claws mean?”

  “Bears are mystical creatures with much power.”

  “They’re blood-thirsty killers,” she corrected him. “What manner of man entwines a lovely gem with such primitiveness? A frontiersman?”

  “An unusual one.”

  Instinctively, she reached out to trace the glowing stone, warmer now. A blue-green light radiated from it at her touch. She sucked in her breath. Tearing her eyes from the phenomenal gem, she looked at Jack. “Did you see that?”

  Giving a nod, he slowly lowered his fingers to the iridescent surface—pulling back as if repelled. “It doesn’t want me to handle it.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t want? ’Tis a necklace, for God’s sake,” she said, using stronger language than usual at the nameless fear that sprang up inside her.

  She looked back down and cautiously extended her hand to the pool of light encompassing the gem. A shape flickered across it in the form of something—an animal. She jerked. “What was that?”

  “A bear.” He spoke with the tenor of one trying to conce
al his own disbelief. “We must’ve imagined it.”

  “Both of us? Jack, what’s going on?”

  He shifted his eyes around the room then returned to the necklace. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re keeping something from me. Is this some sort of bear stone?”

  “No. Moonstone. Rare, and known for its magical powers, if you believe that nonsense.” He didn’t sound as skeptical as he might have only moments ago. “The stone is also a lover’s amulet and the eye of seers. Wearing it is said to strengthen intuition.”

  “If by intuition, you mean the hair standing up on the nape of my neck, I can tell something mighty peculiar is going on and—”

  She broke off at a persistent sound carrying above the wind. “Do you hear that scratching noise?”

  “Probably just a tree branch.”

  He’d lied to shield her from something, she just knew, and clutched his sleeve with one hand. The necklace hung from her other. “Jack—”

  He swiveled his head at the room again. “Calm down,” he said, but didn’t seem any easier than she.

  The scratching intensified and came nearer to them. She gripped him harder. “’Tis at the door!”

  “Damn!” He tore from her and got to his feet.

  Karin scrambled up, flattening herself at his side. “A wild animal of some sort? What if it gets in?”

  “The door’s stout.” He snatched his tomahawk and clasped the handle of his sheathed knife. “I’m ready, if need be.”

  A shower of sparks in the hearth sent her leaping into the air. “I’m not!”

  “Only wood popping,” he said.

  “No.” She’d heard wood pop all her life. Something far more alien was at work here.

  She stared into the bluish flames licking at the wood. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. It wasn’t possible—it couldn’t be—but she’d swear she saw something taking shape in the inferno. There.

  Reaching out trembling fingers, she pointed. “Jack, look.” She shook, her voice shook.

  He circled his arm tightly around her as a great bear snarled to life in the blue glow. Its fathomless eyes returned her breathless stare. Dear God.

  Terror unlike any she’d ever known rushed through her swirling head. Fear choked her throat and throbbed in her chest. The necklace slipped from her slack fingers and clinked to the floor

  Sagging against Jack, she gasped out, “It’s him—the growling voice in the wind.”

  Chapter Six

  Cradling Karin, Jack eyed the bizarre image in the flames. She heard wind voices? More and more, he saw how closely she and Shequenor were linked. But he’d be damned if he’d let that demon get hold of her, not when he held her sweet softness in his arms.

  Shequenor belonged to the bear clan, one of the tribal divisions. The forceful animal held a sacred place in Shawnee belief because of its power and mystery. Some warriors even believed in the ability to transform themselves into the creature and go where they willed in that form.

  Shequenor wouldn’t—couldn’t—come here. Or had he? Either that whiskey packed one hell of a wallop or Shequenor was bear walking.

  Jack narrowed his gaze at the fiery image. “You can’t have her.”

  Eyes burning, the animal opened its mouth in a noiseless growl. The door sounded as if razor sharp claws gouged at the wood.

  Not possible, Jack told himself, bracing against the dread coursing through him. But there it was—he was. Shequenor.

  Argument poured from Jack’s dry lips. “Karin’s too good for you. I never knew what an angel she was when I agreed to the exchange.”

  She’s mine.

  Shequenor’s vehement claim reverberated in Jack’s mind. “She’s all sweetness. Like Mary. Don’t you see?”

  At Mary’s name, the incensed creature gave an anguished howl of heart-rending despair.

  Pity touched Jack. Not enough to bend. “Leave her be.”

  Karin twitched at his retort and moaned, “Jack?”

  His name falling from her lips emboldened him even more. “Go away.”

  Bring me my daughter.

  “No, Shequenor.”

  Bring her to me or forfeit Peki.

  “I trained him.”

  I captured him.

  Jack clutched Karin tightly. “The deal’s off.”

  You owe me, brother.

  Damn devil. Shequenor grew worse with each passing year.

  Tell her of me.

  With a warning growl, the image vanished as swiftly as it had come and the ripping at the door ceased. But Jack knew this wasn’t over, only postponed, unless he found some way to put Shequenor off permanently.

  Extremely unlikely.

  He lowered Karin to the thick skin and knelt beside her. She’d had quite a fright for one so sensitive. For any sane person. How could he possibly fulfill Shequenor’s demands?

  Bending over Karin, he smoothed the hair from her pale face. “It’s all right now.”

  Eyes fluttering, she asked, “Who were you speaking to?”

  He lied. “Only myself.”

  She tried to sit up, but Jack gently pushed her back down. “Not yet.”

  “But you were arguing with someone. I heard. And saw—” a shudder ran through her, “—a bear in the fire.”

  “The drink,” he said.

  “Each time? The necklace too?”

  He had no better explanation to offer.

  “Tell me the truth, Jack.”

  “It’s too strange. I’m not certain I saw what I saw, heard what I heard.”

  She gazed up at him dazedly. “You spoke a name. Shequenor.”

  At her utterance an ill wind stirred in the room and the flames leapt up. Keeping a close eye on the hearth, Jack nodded. “Best not to say it aloud.”

  “You spoke it last night when you first came,” she whispered. “You said he sought me.”

  “I was half-senseless at the time, but yes, I did.”

  “What manner of man is this?”

  “One who uses magic.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tell me more.”

  “You just met him. The bear conjured by the necklace.”

  Her lips parted as though she would speak, but for a stricken moment no words came forth. “What man acquaints himself with a fearsome beast?”

  “A powerful one.”

  She twisted from side to side. “Heaven preserve us. A magician gave my mother this necklace.”

  Clasping her shoulders, Jack strove to explain the unexplainable. “He’s not a magician, Karin, but a wounded spirit with fantastic powers beyond any even I envisioned.”

  “You know this being?”

  “I do.”

  Gaping at him, she asked, “From what walk of life? Soldier, sailor?”

  “Warrior.”

  Teeth clenched, hands gripping Jack’s sleeve, she shook her head. A low wail escaped her. “No. He cannot be my father. He cannot. The blood of the McNeal’s runs in my veins, time out of mind. What viperous poison flows in his?”

  “The blood of chiefs and seers from a line reaching back as far as the clans.”

  If possible, her glassy gaze grew even more enormous. “A half-breed?”

  “No. Full-blooded Shawnee.”

  She squeezed her eyes against the tears glistening on her dark lashes. “Murdering savages. My mother could never love a warrior.”

  “Mary did. I saw. We were captured together and lived in the same family.”

  Karin’s eyes flew open. “Captured? My mother?”

  “And carried back to the McNeals against her will,” he added.

  “She would rather love such a one as this than live?”

  If Jack had insisted Mary loved the devil himself Karin couldn’t have appeared more horrified. Not that he blamed her under the circumstances. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Shequenor wasn’t always as he is now. Sweet Mary gentled him for a time. Then the dark days came and he grew more and more angry.”

&
nbsp; She swallowed hard. “And he seeks for me?”

  “He does. But do not fear, I shall oppose him,” Jack hastened to assure her.

  “Have you the strength?”

  “If anyone has. He is fierce.”

  “So is Grandpa.”

  What a clash that would be, the fighting spirit of the Scots battling with centuries of warrior cunning and determination to rival any.

  “Jack, take me home. Away from this dark place.”

  No sooner had Karin uttered her plea, than the door flew open as if on a violent gust of wind—the weathered oak scored by the long raking marks of an infuriated grizzly. And looming in the doorway barring their retreat stood the great brown-black bear itself.

  She shrieked as the creature rose up on its hind legs. A huge mouth gleaming with needle-sharp teeth opened in a growl.

  Had Shequenor run utterly mad? For the first time since his initial captivity Jack truly feared he might kill him. Kill them both. Jack had no defense strong enough to oppose this menace. For Karin, he’d give his all and go down fighting. But what would happen to her? Somehow he must prevail.