For a Sister's Love

by Paty Jager

  “What? You see what now?” Her hands clutched his shoulders. All of sudden, she didn’t want to let go.

  Something twinkled in his eyes. “The reason you rescued me. You want to know if I have any more pickles.”

  The silly grin on his face eased the tension from the air between them. Happiness tickled her insides. “Do you have any more pickles?”

  “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

  A giggle bubbled in her throat. “What about coffee, do you have any more of that?”

  He laughed, and she let the giggle free. Slowly, like a feather floating to the ground, her feet touched the earth, but he didn’t take his hands off her waist, and she didn’t take hers off his shoulders. His fingers spread around to her back, and as gently as one holds a kitten, he tugged her against his chest.

  She went freely. Her hands slipped up to loop around his neck as her cheek came to rest on the front of his chest. Snuggling in, Loralei let out a sigh of comfort. She hadn’t been hugged, really hugged in a very, very long time.

  When Sam eased his hold and took a step back, she lifted her face.

  “Thank you, for rescuing me.”

  “It really was Ruth,” she had to admit. “She practically tore my skirt dragging me through the woods.”

  He leaned forward and his lips, warm and soft, touched her forehead. She closed her eyes, absorbing the touch. “Well, thank you, Loralei, for following her.”

  “You’re welcome, Sam.”

  Chapter Six

  The next two days may have been the best of her life. The trail was rough, the nights cold, but she had the most wonderful traveling companions, and a pickle every night for supper. On the third day, after a morning of traveling with gloomy gray skies, Sam said they needed to search for shelter, he felt a storm moving in. Loralei agreed and after much searching, they found a small alcove. It wasn’t really a cave, but more of a jutting overhand that extended to the ground, leaving a small opening they were able to crawl through.

  A short distance away there was a cave, a deep one that seemed to have no end. Sam said it was too dangerous for them, but it would be fine for the horses to stay dry. She readily carried their supplies to the alcove while he settled the horses in the cave.

  Sam had kept one eye on the sky the entire day, a sixth sense told him something was blowing in over the Rockies and that something might not be good. He gathered as much dry grass for the horses as he could find. During the process, he managed to shoot and skin six rabbits for he and Loralei to eat. The little overhang had been built by God for this exact moment in time. There was even a natural vent hole in the roof for the smoke of their campfire to escape. A smile curled his lips as he dropped the last of the grass on top of the pile inside the big cave. Rabbit and pickles—not an overly refined meal, but one that would satisfy their hunger. Hers anyway. He’d quit eating the pickles, saving them for her, loving how much she enjoyed them.

  A spit and splatter outside the cave told him the expected rain started to fall, and he left the animal’s shelter to carry the last of their belongings to the alcove. On his hands and knees, he crawled into the space where the fire, already ablaze, sent a twirl of smoke rising through the top. After shoving his bundle aside, he blocked the opening with several pine bows he’d cut for the purpose.

  “Brr, that’s some cold rain,” he said, scooting closer to the fire near the back wall.

  “Here, dry off.” She handed him a cloth. “And look what I found near the creek.” A wooden bucket, with a bullet hole near the top, sat beside the fire pit. “Someone must have left it behind.”

  “Must have,” he agreed, wiping his face. The smell of roasting rabbit filled the small space, accompanied by a steady snap and sizzle as juices dripped into the flames below. Their tack was neatly arranged along the rock walls, hers on one side, his on the other, and bed rolls flattened out. He squelched a smile, and threw the towel he’d used over his saddle horn. “Sure smells good,” he added, nodding toward the fire.

  Ruth gave a hearty yelp in full agreement, and Loralei, cheeks flushed from bending over the flame, laughed. “Yes, it does. Are the horses settled?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid the rain may turn into snow tonight.”

  “I suspect so, that wind had a bite to it.”

  “Here, I’ll get it,” he offered as she started to remove the rabbit. She scooted over and moving about on his knees, since the space wasn’t tall enough for him to stand in, he lifted the cross stick then slid the meat onto a piece of canvas she had ready for it.

  After standing the stick near the back wall for later use, he sat down in front of the fire. She joined him, laying a couple of biscuits near the meat. Sam glanced at the simple fare, and something inside him fluttered. What he wouldn’t give for it to be a grand meal, full of delicacies and served with sweet, pale wine in crystal glasses. He’d pull her chair out and assist her as she settled on the cushion seat. Candle light would glisten off her hair, not the flames of a campfire, and a solid roof with shake shingles and wall-papered walls would surround them, not cold stone.

  He paused for a moment wondering where the fantasy had come from, why it had formed, and how it had created a desire in him he hadn’t felt in ages—a yearning a man recognizes as a dream he wants to fulfill.

  As if she felt his stare, she twisted slightly to gaze up at him. Several wayward strands of hair fluttered over her lilac eyes, and she flipped her head, tossing them aside. The movement caused another wave of desire to rip through him, one strong enough to make him quiver. The air sizzled around them while stock still, they gazed at one another.

  His mouth went dry, and his loins grew as tight as a lion’s ready to pounce.

  She moved slightly, her head tilting in a charming, yet questioning way.

  “You, uh-you need a pickle?” he asked, needing to change the route his mind was taking.

  The way her eyes lit up and the smile curling the edges of her lips into the sweetest grin imaginable made him tighten every muscle against another shudder. He twirled and crawled the few feet to his saddle bag to retrieve a pickle.

  She took it as if it were a treasure, and set it beside her biscuit, to cherish later. “Thank you,” she whispered, cheeks an adorable pink.

  If he lived to be a hundred he’d forever want to be loved like that shriveled up, vinegar soaked, cucumber.

  They ate in silence, neither feeling the need to make small talk due to the comfortable companionship they’d acquired the past few days. When Loralei finished her meat and biscuit, she began to consume her dessert, relishing the pickle as if it were the richest, sweetest chocolate on earth.

  Sam pulled the last bits of meat from the carcass, tossing small chunks to the patient Ruth sitting near his side and tried not to dream of being a pickle.

  Wiping his fingers on the towel, he asked, “So, you never did say how you knew those Indians so well.” He’d wanted to ask long before now, but didn’t know how he’d react if she said she was in love with the Indian.

  “Two Moons?” A bit of her dessert still rolled about in her mouth, and she delicately talked around it.

  “Yes, Two Moons.” Mulling the overly-friendly way the brave acted toward her for two days hadn’t been good on his stomach. It started to churn again. “Or have you seen another tribe that I haven’t?” He hoped a teasing tone would ease his self induced ire.

  She giggled and then swallowed. “Nope, that’s the only one I’ve seen.”

  Her eyes sparkled, but that could be because she took another bite. The crunch sounded in the cave, and she closed her eyes. He waited for her to chew so she’d be able to answer his question. His patience ended before her chewing. “So, how do you know them so well?”

  “I nursed Two Moons’ younger brother, Little Cub,” she said, licking her lips and gazing at the tiny piece of pickle left in her fingers. She must have decided to talk before taking her last bite, because she sighed somewhat sadly. “He’d gotten caugh
t in a spring trap near the river. Ruth found him, and I was afraid it was too late. He was just a little guy. I carried him back to the cabin, afraid he would die before I got him there. But he didn’t. It took both Mrs. Baumgartner and I to get the trap off, and then I had to set the bone. The teeth of the trap had ripped into his flesh.” She grimaced, clearly distraught at recalling the memory.

  A cold shiver of guilt washed over his shoulders. The remembrance must have made her lose her appetite, because she gave the last bit of her pickle to Ruth. The dog gulped it up as quickly as she had the meat scraps.

  “But he made it, his leg was okay?” A frivolous question, no doubt, but he wanted to break the silence.

  “Hmm,” she nodded her head. “Yes. The next day Two Moons and a few others showed up at the farm. Mrs. Baumgartner had a case of the vapors and collapsed on the ground in a dead faint before they’d dismounted.” The twinkle returned to her eyes, and a grin brightened her face. “It was quite a sight. Two Moons thought she’d died.”

  He chuckled in response to her giggles before asking, “Then what happened?”

  “Nothing really. Chief Two Buttes was happy I’d saved his son’s life. A few weeks later he brought me four ponies. One for each of Little Cubs years. It wasn’t long before Mr. Baumgartner sold three of them, but Two Moons heard about it and came to the farm. He told Mr. Baumgartner he’d kill him if he sold Raindrop.”

  A feeling of deep respect for the brave entered Sam’s chest. “When did this all happen?”

  “Oh, more than five years ago now. In all actuality their tribe was our closest neighbor, and we got along fine. All except for Mr. Baumgartner. He called them savages and said they were the same ones that attacked the wagon train and killed my parents back in Nebraska. I told him Two Buttes’ tribe is Ute and those who attacked our wagon were Apache, but he claimed they were all the same.”

  “He-Mr. Baumgartner wasn’t very nice, was he?” A part of Sam wished the man was still alive just so he could flatten his nose for treating Loralei so badly.

  “No, not really, but that’s just how some folks are.” She shrugged and then moved about clearing the few crumbs off the canvas and wiping at the grease spots with a small square of cotton she dipped in her bucket of water.

  Sam, absently rubbing Ruth’s ears, looked up—guilty of not hearing what Loralei had asked—having been too caught up in thoughts of how someone as pretty and sweet as she deserved so much more than the lot in life she’d been given. His life—the same one which caused a bitter brew to stew in his stomach at times—had been a bed of roses compared to hers.

  “What?” he questioned.

  “I asked if her pack was rubbing her skin.” She glanced toward Ruth.

  He investigated the dog’s neck and behind her front legs. “No, it looks fine.”

  “I never thought of the leather chaffing her. The other ones I’d made for her were out of old cotton rags.”

  “Why does she have to wear it?”

  Loralei bit her lips to stop the answer from blurting out. She’d become so compliant around Sam. There was something about him that made her want to tell him everything from her greatest fears to her most treasured dreams. But she couldn’t, could she, tell him Ruth carried all the money she had?

  Keeping her stare glued to the dog, she answered, “She just does, that’s all.”

  Sam slid a finger beneath her chin. The touch, soft and warm, made her breath catch as he forced her face to tilt slightly until they looked straight at each other.

  His eyes, so extremely friendly and kind, gazed deep into hers. The sensation was new and mesmerizing—she couldn’t have pulled away if she’d wanted to.

  “Your secrets are safe with me,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  She had to swallow, just in order to breath. After doing so, she wet her lips which had grown extremely dry, and all of sudden she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. To have his full, handsomely shaped lips touch hers. Something deep and feminine stirred inside her.

  His cheeks puffed slightly and he let out a low, long breath of air. “I-uh-I better go check the horses.”

  Within a matter of seconds he was gone.

  Whether it was his absence or the blustery air that blew in before he covered the opening with the pine boughs again, Loralei wasn’t quite sure, but a ripple of shivers raced over her.

  She waited a few minutes before she turned about and finished cleaning up the scant evidence of their meal. Then she added another log to the fire and set about preparing for bed. The whole while thinking of little else than Sam McDonald.

  Before climbing beneath her blanket, she snuck outside to relieve herself lest the urge came upon her in the middle of the night. After securing the opening with the pine boughs, she crawled into her makeshift bed.

  Her life with the Baumgartners hadn’t been easy, nor ideal, but until she’d set out on the trail, she hadn’t realized how good she’d had it. The straw-filled mattress she’d used every night had been most comfortable compared to the hard ground, and there was certainly something to be said about having four walls and cooking utensils.

  A wave of sadness made her throat burn. Perhaps she’d made the wrong choice. Maybe she should have stayed in Timberland and waited for Maggie to come to her instead. But for ten years she’d thought of the day she’d travel to Idaho—the day she’d be reunited with Maggie. They had promised each other, and it had been that promise that had kept her living and hoping for better days to come all those years with the Baumgartners.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped at them. The movement made Ruth, lying near the fire, rise and pad across the tiny space. After a sniff of Loralei’s face, Ruth plopped down to rest her snout below Loralei’s chin with a loud doggy sigh.

  The sound, or maybe the comfort of the dog’s love, made a smile come to Loralei’s face, and she wrapped both arms around her everlasting companion. She was no longer miffed at the dog, could understand why Ruth liked Sam so much. Loralei had to admit, she liked him, too. If she had stayed at the soddy, she’d never have discovered what a wonderful man Sam was, which most certainly would have been a great loss.

  A short time later—she was still wide awake—Sam crawled back into the cave. “It’s starting to snow,” he said, stuffing the pine boughs tightly into the opening.

  She didn’t answer, but nodded as he glanced her way.

  He smiled, and as if he carried the sunshine in his face, her body warmed up ten degrees. The heat ran into her cheeks, and she buried her face in Ruth’s soft fur.

  The sounds of him moving about, positioning his head on his saddle, folding his blanket around his tall frame, rustled the air and his shadows danced with the reflections of the flames on the low ceiling above.

  “You warm enough?” he asked when his movements stopped.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered, “You?”

  “I suspect so. Wish there were two of Ruth though, she looks quite comfortable snuggled in there with you.”

  Loralei patted the dog’s head. “Yes, she is, and warm, too.”

  “I’m sure she is,” he said, with humor in his voice.

  “There’s money in it,” she said, somewhat surprising herself.

  “Money in what?”

  Loralei twisted so she could see him. “In her pack. The money I’ve saved over the years to get me to Maggie. It was the only safe hiding spot. Ruth didn’t like Mr. Baumgartner. It was Mrs. Baumgartner who suggested it. She wouldn’t take the money I made nursing people, insisted I keep it, and that I kept it hid from Mr. Baumgartner.” She scratched the dog’s ears. “Ruth didn’t like him. She wouldn’t let him get close to her.”

  “Aren’t you afraid she’ll loose it?”

  “No, it’s stitched on. Besides, I trust her with my life. Why wouldn’t I trust her with my money?”

  He shrugged, but a smile sat upon his lips. “Why not, indeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  The sun that
met him in the morning had the power to blind a man. It shone down on the ground cloaked white so brilliant and pure Sam wondered if he’d ever seen snow before. Of course he had, but for an unknown reason this morning, Mother Nature’s winter blanket made him believe he’d witnessed some sort of miracle.

  Perhaps he had, not the snow, that wasn’t the miracle, but keeping his hands off Loralei had been. A truer phenomenon most likely didn’t exist. Looking into those slanted, beautiful eyes, with firelight dancing over her adorable face, had sent his body into the deepest depths of pure wanton desire. Sleep had been long and slow in coming. He would have left the cave, but the howling wind had told him she’d wake as soon as he moved the pine boughs, so he’d laid there, suffering until nothing less than complete exhaustion had brought slumber.

  It had been Ruth’s ice cold nose nudging his chin that woke him.

  The snow, almost up to the tops of his boots, was as heavy as it was deep, full of moisture for the dried ground beneath. The way the sun filled the sky, it wouldn’t take long for puddles to form. He made his way to the pine tree where he’d tied the bag of skinned rabbits, and after slipping one into the cave, he went to check on the horses.

  By the time he’d fed and watered the animals, the smell of meat roasting floated out of the opening now cleared of pine boughs. Loralei crawled out of the space and stretched her arms overhead, her back arching as she stood.

  “Morning,” she said, as bright as the blue sky above.

  “Morning,” he replied, tugging his eyes from the way the material over her breasts stretched and highlighted her remarkable curves.

  She took a deep breath.

  He flinched.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked with a satisfied sounding sigh.

  He gulped for fortifying air and found the ability to answer, “Yes, it looks that way, but I’m afraid it won’t be a good day for traveling. This snow’s melting fast, that makes the trail dangerous for the horses. They could slip.”