A single raised brow. “You have a lot of wolf attacks in Boston, do you?”
Something about his tenderness washed through her like a warm, soothing tea. The perfect blend to ease her frayed nerves.
With a final stroke of his thumb on her chin, he removed his hand and turned to the dog. “How ya feelin’, boy?”
North raised his head a few inches, and his tail thumped twice.
“You’re enjoyin’ the attention, eh?”
Reuben’s hands probed over the dog, hovering at his neck before moving on to the remainder of him. “His pulse seems strong and steady. No broken bones that I can tell.” His hand stroked the animal’s head again, pressing the hair back to reveal the dedication shining in North’s eyes.
“He’s going to be all right.” Reuben’s gaze found hers once more. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Cathleen eased out a long breath. If only she could be as certain. Lord, please let him live.
Chapter Nine
REUBEN STOLE A glance at the woman beside him. Seeing her so devastated about the dog had cut deeper than he ever would have expected. And she talked like she thought she was responsible. This woman did so much to keep the place going, then used her last spare moment to check on Tashunka for him, and now she thought Mum’s wandering was her own fault?
The image she’d painted of beating off the wolf had formed a vivid picture in his mind. Snarling teeth. The animal must have been half-starved to attack the way he did. Wolves were usually skittish around people, only attacking weak or feeble animals. And usually they traveled in packs. A burn squeezed his chest. If the animal was rabid though, that would explain the fierce attack.
He turned to the woman. “Did it bite you? The wolf?” His eyes roamed her figure, searching for blood or torn fabric.
“No. I’m fine. Only North.” She leaned close to stroke the dog’s head and murmured soft words in his ear. If fear wasn’t surging through his veins, he might have been jealous.
“Did it foam at the mouth? Or maybe have blood in its spit?”
She looked up at him, confusion clouding her eyes. “I don’t…” And then understanding slipped over her, and she sat up straight. “You think it was rabid?”
The fear that touched her face didn’t settle well in his gut. “I don’t know. Probably not, but we need to make sure.” He softened his voice as much as he could. “Tell me what it looked like.”
Her forehead scrunched as she rocked back on her heels. “He was sort of a mottled gray. Not as big as North. He probably came up to here on me.” She touched a spot not far below her hip, and his mouth went dry as his gaze followed her motion. If he let his mind go there, he’d be in real trouble.
He swallowed and forced his eyes back up to her face. There was a bit more pink on her cheeks than a moment ago, and she didn’t meet his gaze.
He cleared his throat. “Tell me what the animal did.”
That furrowed brow again. “He and North were both growling and all tangled up in a snarl. When I got close, his jaw was locked on North’s rump. I took the stick from your mum and started beating his head. I made contact a few times, and he finally broke loose.”
“Did he turn on you?”
“No. He acted stunned at first, then growled. I kept swinging the stick at him and screaming, and he finally turned and ran away.”
He did his best to hold back a grin at the picture that formed in his mind. For a city girl, this woman had spunk. For that matter, she had spunk for a mountain girl.
“What do you think?”
He met her gaze, which was solemnly fixed on his face. “If he didn’t go after you, and you didn’t see any of the rabies signs, he was probably just a hungry wolf separated from the pack. This winter’s been hard with all the extra snow and cold. Not as much game to feed on. He probably sensed Mum was an easy target, then once he got started with the attack, couldn’t bring himself to give in till he knew he was beat.” By a sassy slip of a city girl, at that.
Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “You really think so?”
“I do.” At least he hoped it. They’d need to keep a close eye on North these next few days to be sure.
Something like a smile touched her eyes, playing with one corner of her mouth. He wasn’t one to use big words, but intriguing was the only thing that properly described her look.
“What?”
“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you speak yet.”
The heat that flushed through him lit his face like fire. He turned away and slipped off his coat, both to chase off the warmth and to conceal his color from her sparkling eyes. This woman knew how to unravel him like no one else.
She rose to her feet, leaving the space beside him empty. And cold, without the warmth of her nearness.
“I need to get started on dinner.” She spoke loudly, most likely to include Mum in the conversation. “Mrs. Scott, would you like to come into the kitchen? I could use your help to make sure I get everything right.”
Mum patted her hand, then allowed Cathleen to help her up. “Oh, you do fine, dearie. But I’ll be glad to come if you need me.”
The pair shuffled along toward the kitchen area, Cathleen moving with the patience of Job.
Then her step faltered, and she spun to face him. “Your horse. I forgot. She’s losing all her milk. Is there something we can do to stop it?”
His chest surged. Tash was getting close to her time, probably tonight. But the worried look on this woman’s face did something even more unusual in his chest. “That’s good she’s leaking. Means she’s almost ready.”
Those lines appeared on her forehead again. “But don’t we need to stop it? Or catch the milk and save it for the baby? What if she runs out?”
Her sweet innocence. He had the sudden urge to close the distance between them and fold her into his arms. Definitely not what he should be feeling toward his mother’s nurse.
“Reuben?”
He pulled himself back from his thoughts and turned away so he didn’t have to look into those expressive eyes. “Tashunka usually leaks the day before she foals. I’ll go check on her.”
“Tashunka? That’s her name? What does it mean?”
He met her gaze then, studying her expression while he spoke the next words. “It’s Sioux. Means horse.”
Her eyes widened a bit, and she tilted her head. “Sioux Indian? Do you know the language?”
“My Crow friends have taught me some.”
He had to give her credit for controlling her reactions. It wasn’t fear that registered on her face, not even shock. Maybe curiosity. Maybe there was a tinge of fear, but nothing like most people who came here from the East. One more point for courage on her long list of abilities.
Rising to his feet, Reuben grabbed his coat. “I’ll go check on Tash.” A bit of cold air might be what he needed to clear his head.
The mare nickered when he approached her stall, and she was dripping milk like Cathleen had said. Her muscles seemed relaxed, though, so she hadn’t started the foaling process quite yet. It looked like he’d be sleeping in the barn tonight, despite what their stubborn nurse might demand.
After tossing the mare a bit of extra hay, he headed out to the edge of the clearing. It wasn’t hard to find their tracks from earlier that day. Both the long running strides of the woman as she ran toward the attack, then the deeper, unsteady prints where she carried North back to the house, tracking beside Mum’s lightweight tread. It was a miracle Cathleen could even lift the dog. North was about the size of a small bear. And just as fiercely protective as a mother bear with her cubs.
What would have happened during the episode if North hadn’t been there? Mum would have been killed by the wolf, most likely.
That thought sluiced pure fear through him.
At last he came on the scene, and the gore of it churned his gut. Blood had been tromped into the snow in a wide circle. The snow was so thoroughly churned in the area, it took a moment for hi
m to find the tracks of the attacking animal.
There, heading away from the house, he found the prints it left as it retreated. The paw seemed a little smaller than a full-sized wolf. Maybe the animal wasn’t quite full-grown, or maybe it was a wolf-dog mix. But it had to have wolf blood running through it, because it tracked in a straight trotting line, both as it had seemed to follow Mum and North’s trail, and again as it had fled the scene. The steadiness of the tracks tended to confirm the animal wasn’t rabid. Right?
He could only hope.
~ ~ ~
CATHLEEN SANK INTO the strains of Silent Night, harmonizing her soprano over Mrs. Scott’s steady alto melody. She’d only sung this tune at Christmastime before coming to the mountain, but it was one of Mrs. Scott’s favorites, and it seemed to soothe North now as Cathleen sat beside him.
With the potatoes simmering into soup on the stove, supper would be ready whenever Reuben came in. She’d finally gotten the dog to drink a bit of willow bark tea. He seemed much more relaxed now, and the music worked its magic to calm all three of them. She’d noticed that about Mrs. Scott lately. Any time the woman’s nerves were especially on edge, singing one of the old hymns helped soothe and refocus her.
The cabin door opened, and Cathleen spun to face the intruder, stopping her song in the middle of the word “heavenly.” She’d not heard a tread on the porch. Could it be an animal had pushed the door open?
But it was Reuben who stepped inside, and her sense of relief at the sight of his hooded fur coat was perhaps a little stronger than the situation warranted. Her nerves must be worse off than she’d thought.
She kept her hand moving in steady strokes over North’s head and back as she watched Reuben shed his gloves and coat. She was getting used to his towering presence now for the most part, but from this angle, he may as well have been a giant. But a gentle one, quiet and contemplative. And every so often, she glimpsed a depth of feeling in his penetrating blue eyes that intrigued her more than a little. What would it be like to really know this man? To hear his thoughts and understand his deepest emotions?
“How’s he feeling?”
Reuben’s words pulled her from her daydreams. Good thing, too, because she’d been staring. “He drank some willow tea, so he seems to be resting better now. How’s the mare? Tashunka?” The word felt strange on her tongue. Hopefully she’d pronounced it correctly. With the high-low sounds Reuben had used.
He stepped closer and crouched beside her, his presence extracting all the air from the room. At least from her lungs. “I imagine she’ll foal tonight. I’ll go check her again in a bit.”
She swallowed to force moisture into her mouth. “You were gone a long time. I was about to come check on you both.” A silly thing to say. As if she could do anything to help this man, with all his skills and innate understanding of animals.
He slanted a look at her, those blue eyes twinkling and his mouth tipping in a smile. That look was worth embarrassing herself any day.
“I went out to check the area where the wolf attacked.”
The smile left her spirit as quickly as his words sank in. She searched his gaze. “You’re sure it was a wolf then?”
“I think so. A small wolf or wolf-dog. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t rabid. Just hungry and not willing to give up a meal without a fight.” He tapped her chin with the lightest of touches. “You were more than he bargained for, though.”
Whether it was the warmth of his touch, his words, or just the power of his nearness, she almost melted right there on the floor. Sheer will power alone kept her upright, but it couldn’t stop her from soaking into his gaze.
A gurgling sound from the stove finally broke through her awareness, jerking her from the pleasant warmth of the moment.
“The soup.” She scrambled up and scurried to the pot, which was, indeed, bubbling over. The stove’s surface seared the thick liquid, sending a scorched aroma through the room. After yanking the lid from the pot and stirring vigorously, the liquid eased and settled into a rolling boil.
She turned back to face Reuben and his mother, both watching her with varying degrees of humor and curiosity. Even the dog had raised his head to watch her flurry of activity. She forced the brightest smile she could muster. “Supper’s ready.”
Reuben helped his mum to the table, and Cathleen couldn’t resist watching the pair as he settled her in her chair and tucked the serviette in her lap. He was remarkably gentle with his mum, the depth of his love reflected in each action. Such a kind man. Who would have thought?
Chapter Ten
WHEN THEY WERE all seated, Cathleen glanced at Reuben to find his head already bowed. Thus far, she’d prayed to bless the food at each meal, but maybe it was presumptuous of her to do the honors every time. “Reuben, you’re welcome to say grace if you’d like.”
He raised his head just enough to peer at her from under his lashes. “No. Thanks. You do fine.”
Hmm… She’d have to examine that response later. For now, she closed her eyes and breathed in the peace that always soaked through her when she spoke with the Father. Along with a blessing over the food—such as it was—she sent up a heartfelt plea for North’s recovery, as well as the mare preparing to give birth in the barn. The deep tenor of Reuben’s “Amen” joined her own, along with the quiver of Mrs. Scott’s sweet voice.
When she opened her eyes, she sent a glance toward Reuben and caught his gaze on her. She often found him watching her over their meals, and it would be easier to distract herself if he didn’t sit directly across from her. But this look seemed different. Curious. Like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know how.
She met the look with a smile. “Everything all right?” She half expected him to drop his focus to his food and shrug off the question.
But he didn’t. If anything, his gaze intensified. “I’ve never heard anyone pray like you.”
For once, she had no idea how to respond. But she could feel the heat creeping up her neck, and she glanced down at the bowl in front of her. “I just talk to God. It’s nothing special.”
He was quiet, and when she finally chanced another look at him, he was still watching her. His eyes had a bit of a squint to them, like he was calculating something. For the thousandth time since meeting this man, she wished she could see into his mind. Have some inkling of what he was thinking.
But that wasn’t to be, apparently. She took a spoonful of soup, and he did the same.
He downed his first bowlful in seconds, then reached to fill it again from the pot in the center of the table. “I’ll check Pa’s rifle tonight and make sure it’s clean and loaded. Then I want you to carry it when you leave the cabin. Every time. Even if you’re just going to the privy.”
Cathleen forced her bite of soup down so she didn’t choke on it. “A rifle?” She studied him, but nothing about his features looked like he’d jested. In fact, he was still spooning soup down his throat like she might jerk the bowl away before he finished.
He must believe she actually knew how to shoot the gun. Would he think less of her when he learned the truth? Maybe she should keep her mouth shut and try to learn on her own. Mrs. Scott might be able to teach her the basics. The woman seemed able to recall most of the tasks that were deeply ingrained in her memory. Although she was a bit shaky with them, and sometimes left out steps.
It might not be a good idea to take chances with an instrument that could so easily end a life. Her life. Or Mrs. Scott’s.
She summoned courage and tried her best to keep her voice level. Casual. “I’ve actually never shot a rifle before.”
That stilled him. He slowly raised his head, those dark brows lowering so they almost covered the blue of his eyes. “You haven’t?” His voice dripped with sheer disbelief. Maybe even a hint of irritation. And that last bit did more to raise her hackles than if he’d laughed out loud at her.
She squared her shoulders. “No. I haven’t. You may remember, I lived in Boston until last fall. We didn’t
have much cause to hunt our own game or fight off rabid wolves.”
The expression in his eyes disappeared, covered by that mask he wore so well, and he dropped his focus back to spoon a potato from his bowl.
His silence alone was enough to chastise her, and it stretched for long minutes. She knew better than to spout off when someone was trying to help her. And with this man especially…who’d just started opening up to her.
She took in a steadying breath. “Reuben, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it.” His voice didn’t sound angry, but the clipped words spoke a clear end to the subject. Should she try again to soften the tension that now hovered between them? Or maybe he didn’t feel it. Who knew with this man?
And did it really matter if she knew how to shoot a gun since she’d be going home soon? Even though the thought made the food roil in her stomach. She’d have to face the inevitable soon. But not yet. Mrs. Scott and her son weren’t ready yet.
As soon as she finished her soup, Cathleen rose from the table and filled a plate of broth for North. He licked most of it before dropping his head back to the floor. She stroked him, staring into those mournful black eyes. They didn’t reflect as much pain as they had earlier—probably the willow bark helping—but the sight of such a magnificent animal reduced like this, closed off the breathing in her throat.
“Guess I’ll get started on these dishes. Quinn, you do make more mess than one o’ those hogs.” Mrs. Scott’s grumbled words pulled Cathleen’s attention from the dog. The woman was already rising, stacking plates and shuffling around the table.
Cathleen needed to help, especially before Mrs. Scott tried to heat water on the stove. She couldn’t afford another burn. After a final stroke over North’s head, Cathleen positioned her hands to push herself up.
North raised his head too, then scrambled in an effort to stand.
“No, boy.” She lowered herself back to the floor and reached to help the dog lay down again. He’d not quite gotten his haunches underneath him, and seemed relieved to sink back in the softness of her coat that still padded his bed. “You have to stay here.”
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 8
