She nodded again and then asked, “Do we need to take the bullet out? Is that the problem?”
Answering her honestly, he admitted, “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I was only nine years old the last time I was around anyone who had been shot and I can’t remember what we did. We’ll figure it out.”
Just as he went to go out, she asked, “Who had been shot, Lije?”
His eyes met hers for the briefest of moments before he replied, “My mother.” She didn’t ask if his mother had recovered, and he didn’t tell her she hadn’t. He just ducked through the opening, feeling that same fear he’d felt as a nine year old boy, watching his mother’s face become flushed with fever from her wounds.
Brekka heard him tell her his mother had been shot and from the brief glimpse of raw pain that she saw cross his face, she knew his mother had died. It made her wish she could protect him from this whole situation, but she knew she couldn’t. She was too badly hurt, and though she hated to admit it, laying here was about the best she could do right now.
She closed her eyes and prayed for him, immeasurably grateful for this gentle soft spoken giant who had come back for her, just like he’d said he would, and just like she’d known he would from the moment he’d said it. There was something about him that was as solid as this mountain and she’d felt it within seconds of when he had come up to her in that Indian camp.
She tried to roll slightly to the right to ease the horrendous stiffness that enveloped her body and then closed her eyes again. He would come back. He’d said he would and he wouldn’t let her down.
The rain stopped after two full days, but by that time Brekka was burning up with fever. She was half out of her mind between the fever and the dreams that being abducted and the delirium brought on. On the fourth day, not knowing what else to do, Lije gave her another blessing, and then turned her on her side. After heating his knife in the fire to clean it and then letting it cool, he gritted his teeth and cut into the tender flesh under her arm and took the bullet out.
The stinking yellow fluid that oozed out around it made him know he’d done the right thing, but hurting her still made him feel horrible. He cleaned both the entry wound again and now the exit wound and packed them with the herbs he hoped would help. Then he gathered her into his arms to hold her while she rested. She smiled her thanks and asked him to explain about the blessing he’d given her. Holding her seemed to help the delirium and nightmares, and it was the best way he knew to try to keep her warm during the days when she was chilled but he didn’t dare start a fire because of the smoke.
He caught rabbits in his snares and shot sage grouse with his bow and even found some of the Sego Lily bulbs the first Mormon settlers had survived on. With the couple of things still in his pack, they had food. Starving wasn’t what he was worried about. Brekka’s raging fever and burning skin were of far greater concern to him.
That, and the fact that even sick, she was strikingly beautiful. Maybe even more so because she was sick. Being attracted to her when he didn’t even know her and she was practically at death’s door made him feel horribly guilty. Needing to hold her to calm her only made him feel that much more toward her. He’d taken to trying to think of something else every time he noticed how pretty she was.
Being that he was dying for something more interesting to eat than just rabbit and grouse and the occasional pine nut or berry, and that her cheeks reminded him of the succulent peaches back home in his orchard, he’d taken to thinking about the peaches waiting to be harvested. They would have been pure ambrosia to him right about now. Thinking about food seemed like the only way to keep his head on straight about her through these long days and nights.
And the Ute was around. Lije had seen his tracks and had caught a glimpse of him and another brave on two separate occasions when he’d climbed high onto the mountain to look around. The Indian was still looking for her just as Lije had known he would and although Lije was doing everything he knew to do to both heal her and hide her, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Utes found them if they didn’t move. It was too hard to hide the horses and yet find feed for them. Or to hide any sign that they were here when he had to leave occasionally to gather food or get water from the nearby stream.
He’d told her that if he didn’t come back, to walk to the west, which was the wisest course of action because the renegade Utes and the Paiute camp were on the east side of the mountain, but the trouble was that Lije’s home was on the east side too. Far to the south of Grass Valley, but still east of the divide. If they went off the west side, it would be at least two additional days’ ride to reach the safety of Rock Creek and his home. Nevertheless, he didn’t dare take her east.
Finally, on the ninth day, miraculously, she woke up and looked at him clearly for the first time since the fever had set in. The sight of her beautiful clear eyes laying there in his arms gave him an unbelievable lift that he desperately needed. The nights had been interminable as he had held her and wondered if she was going to make it through until morning. She smiled tiredly and it was an incredibly welcome sight. She’d made it. For the first time in what felt like a small eternity, he finally knew she was going to pull through.
With a huge sigh, he reached down and gently touched her cheek and asked, “How you doing, Brek?”
She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Well. I think. I am doing well, am I not?”
The almost hesitant question, coupled with her obvious improvement made him chuckle at her. “Yes, Brekka, you are doing well.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair and went on almost huskily, “Thank God you are doing well.”
His tone of voice must have worried her because she asked, “What’s wrong, Lije? Why are you sad?”
He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, Brekka. And I am definitely not sad. It was just touch and go there for a while. You had me worried.” He smoothed the hair back from her cheek. “It’s just been a long nine days is all, my pretty friend. I tried, but I didn’t know how else to help you.”
She tried to sit up and looked at him wide eyed. “Nine days! You’re jesting!”
Pulling her back down, he chuckled again. “Yes, nine days.” He rolled his neck. “The longest nine days of my life. I’m not used to feeling helpless. It’s a horrible way to feel.”
Almost snuggling against him, she marveled, “Nine days. I never dreamed! How have we survived here? How have you lived for nine whole days with me ill? I’ll bet your family is worried sick!”
He nodded. “I’ll bet you’re right. But we made it. That’s the important thing. How are you feeling, really?”
She looked up at him with the most enigmatic expression for several seconds before saying tentatively. “You know, I’m not really sure. Good, I think. Hungry as a bear. And incredibly weak. Let me see if I can sit up, or stand.” She moved in his arms and gave a tiny groan. “And still ridiculously stiff. I’m so sorry to be such a bother.”
He helped her to sit up, then put a hand back on her shoulder when he could see she was light headed. “Take it easy, Brek. You’ve been sick. Really sick. Don’t push it.”
She nodded slowly and leaned her head against his shoulder. “My, I’m dizzy. I wonder why that would be.”
Lije looked at her blonde head that rested on his shoulder and was still shiny even though now her hair was thoroughly tangled, and thought back to the days and nights of her fevers and delirium. It had been a long, long nine days, but it had been wonderful to be able to take care of her. He was afraid he’d gotten insanely attached to her, in spite of the fact that she’d been nothing but deathly ill the whole time. He swallowed and offered lamely, “Uh, well, sometimes fevers can do that to you.”
She looked back up at him in confusion and studied his face for a second, then looked away and he pulled her head back to rest against him again. “Give yourself a minute, Brekka, and you’ll be fine. There’s no rush. Although, you should know that we need to leave this place.”
She loo
ked up at him again and this time he knew she was trying to decide if she needed to be afraid. He hated to do it to her, but he had to be honest with her as well. Her life could be depending on it. “The close feed is all but gone for the horses and there have been some Indians scouting around on this mountain. I think they’re looking for us.”
“So what will we do?”
The fear was back, just as he’d known it would be. “Right now, we’ll do nothing. We’ll feed you and keep getting you back on your feet. In a day or two, when it looks like rain, we’ll head out over the mountain to the west and hopefully the rain will hide our tracks again like the last time.”
She nodded and said, “It will. We’ll be fine. Thanks for holding me when the nightmares were so horrible. I’m sorry. I’m not usually so afraid.”
“It’s okay. I’m just sorry that you had reason to be afraid.” He pushed her gently off and got up to go to the roasted grouse he’d wrapped in leaves in the corner.
He could feel her eyes on him as he worked to bring her something to eat and then she said, “I’m nearly as tall as you are. That can’t have been very comfortable. You’re probably dead from caring for me. Please forgive me.”
He came back to her with the meat on a tin plate and gave her a lazy grin. “Oh, it wasn’t too bad. The feeling is bound to come back in my legs eventually. Sorry it’s cold.” He indicated the food. “When the sky is clear we can only have a fire at night.”
She was watching him almost warily and then asked. “The feeling is gone from your legs?”
That made him full out laugh. “I’m just fooling with you, Brekka. I’m fine. I’ll probably hate going home and living alone again after having you in my arms all the time, but . . . ” At that her eyes got even bigger and he shook his head and laughed again. “I’m teasing you, Miss Toft. Do they not tease back in Denmark?”
Taking the plate, she said, “No, they don’t. I mean yes, they do, but . . . I mean they do, but not . . . Are you okay, really?”
He took a bite of his own food as he watched her and said, “Yes. I’m fine, really. Although, I’m really looking forward to something other than meat and water. I have this peach orchard back home that is probably just about ready to harvest. I cannot wait to bite into one of those sweet peaches. I’ve been thinking about them for days.” He didn’t mention that he’d had to focus on the peaches to keep from focusing on how beautiful she was.
It actually clouded up and threatened rain that very night, but Lije knew she wasn’t ready to travel even though her fever had broken. She was both up and down some that day, mostly down. In the warmest part of the day, she went and bathed in the stream while he stayed inside their shelter and when she came back in, she looked somewhat better, but by nightfall, she was completely worn out and laid back down. A few minutes later, when he knew she was having a bad dream, he opted against lifting her onto his lap again and pulled his blankets over closer to her instead. He put a soothing hand on her shoulder and spoke to her until she began to calm and she opened her eyes and gave him a sad, tired smile before turning her face the other way and going back to sleep.
He left his hand on her shoulder for several minutes and then turned over on his back and looked up at the blackness of the roof of the overhang. Those peaches, now. They would surely taste good just at this moment.
The next day, for the first time, she spent a good portion of the day awake. As she came back inside after having gone out, she stood at the opening of the overhang and looked out at the mild storm and as he came to stand beside her, she said, “I love storms. I love to face into them and smell the rain.”
At length she came back into the shelter and sat beside the fire and they talked back and forth about their lives and how different it had been to grow up privileged in Denmark compared to as a Mormon pioneer in the Utah Territory. She admitted to him that, in spite of the fact that this trip had been horribly traumatic to her, the scenery of this striking arid land called to her in a way she couldn’t even explain, and how even when she’d been afraid, she’d appreciated the beauty.
He admitted to her that the beauty spoke to him as well and he told her of his ranch and what he and Lars had done to improve their small valley, and how deeply he had come to love this land.
They spoke of politics and the railroad and of what Luther may have been trying to do as far as speculating in land before the railroad came through, and eventually, Lije told her of the church and the saints and how he and his family had come to be in this wild area in the first place. She was genuinely interested, in spite of how weak she was and he told her a good deal about his beliefs. He even ultimately admitted that, although he loved the church and the saints dearly, he could never bring himself to even consider marrying one of the local girls, let alone a couple of them.
He’d thought like most non-members, she would be shocked that Mormons practiced plural marriage, but she only laughed at him and said, “I’ll bet every mother in the territory tries to snare you for their daughters, as handsome as you are. Especially if you have a ranch.”
Looking across the overhang at her, he had no idea how to take that comment and brushed it off by saying, “Lars is the handsome one of the family. He’s the one the girls are always after.” She looked up at him somewhat skeptically from where she was once again trying to put her blouse back together, and Lije looked away.
They went on to talk about their families. She told him about her father and eighteen year old sister back home and how her mother had died before she had really ever gotten to know her, and he told her about Lars, and Heidi and his father, and how his mother had died when he’d known her very well and loved her dearly.
While she sewed, he continued working on whittling the comb he’d begun to make for her to try to untangle her hair after ten days of little or no attention. In all that time, she hadn’t moved much, but her hair was still incredibly snarled.
Once the comb was finished, he helped her wash her blouse and then her hair in the nearby stream, then he sat behind her and began to comb the snarls out, one by one. It took him more than an hour, but he’d have kept at it for ten if he could have. When he was finished, he watched as she braided it up into a coronet around her head and tucked the ends in securely. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as having it long and shining down her back, but it would keep it out of the way and keep it from getting tangled so.
Combing her hair had been one of the most evocative things he’d ever done and it took him another two hours of thinking about the peaches and everything else he could imagine to get his heart back in his chest where it belonged. He had no idea what he was going to do with himself once he got her back where she belonged and he went back to his ranch.
Lije kept talking about when Brekka was back where she belonged and it had begun to be troubling to her. Three weeks ago, she could have told exactly where it was that she belonged. Today, after being with Lije night and day for more than ten days, she wasn’t so sure where her place was. Even though this mountain had brought incredible fear of being found by the Utes again, there was something about this man and this Utah Territory that seemed to call to her soul.
She was worlds apart from her home in Copenhagen, still, when she thought of leaving here to return to Europe, an anxiousness started in the pit of her stomach that was nearly as troubling as the tension had been the afternoon Percival had accosted her. There was something very wrong with the thought of leaving this Utah.
Lije was there across the way, working at a rabbit skin he’d kept from the rabbits he’d trapped. She watched him as he worked and wondered about him. He’d only seen her for a moment or two before he’d approached her and the Indian who held her captive, and she knew he’d already made the decision to help her then. Now it had been nearly two weeks since he’d been home on his ranch and he didn’t even know if his brother had made it there safely. He was still here, watching over her, preparing to take her out of these mountains and back to where he kept say
ing she belonged.
She wished he would quit saying that. It made her want to stay here in this little corner of the mountains forever. Lije was strikingly handsome, even after having been living in a hole in a mountain for ten days. There was a self confidence about him and a decisiveness that was incredibly attractive.
She thought back to all the men she’d been around in her almost twenty years. Her father was a wealthy man and she knew she was somewhat pretty and intelligent. She’d never lacked for sophisticated suitors. She wasn’t sure if Lije would feel at home in the elegant restaurants and ballrooms of the Danish aristocracy, but he had risked his very life to save hers and then had stayed here with her to protect her and help her heal and return home.
After learning of Luther’s involvement in slavery, she knew that not only would Luther have not risked his life to protect a stranger from being abducted and injured, he was, in effect, the one abducting and injuring. The comparison of the two couldn’t have been more opposite and in a way it was confusing. Not confusing in that she wanted nothing more to do with Luther Olafson or his kind ever again, but confusing in that she wanted to stay near Lije, even though he lived in the Utah Territory and her home was in Denmark. That was a bit of a journey in anyone’s estimation.
She looked over at him and then back to the blouse she was sewing and took a stitch in frustration. None of this mattered a bit. She just needed to do what needed done to get the two of them out of this corner and get back to real life and then tell Lije thank you for saving her and goodbye.
His rescuing her had been nothing but instinct for a man of his character. He’d put his life on the line because she was a human being and it had been the right thing to do. It was incredibly admirable, but he hadn’t done it because Brekka was near and dear to him. She needed to remember that, in spite of the fact that his saving her had put him almost instantly in hero status inside her head and heart.
Into the Wind_A Love Story Page 5
