by Paty Jager
“I suspect you’re right. A day of rest won’t hurt the animals, and with this sunshine I could take a bath and wash clothes.”
He all but choked. “A bath?”
“Mmm-hmm, with the bucket I found,” she said, quite nonchalantly, while making her way around the side of the cave with Ruth at her heels.
Sam laid his palm against his forehead. Yes, beads of sweat had formed. He understood the fondness he’d formed for Loralei, she was sweet and likeable, besides being determined and focused. Overall she made a very good traveling companion, but this sexual desire that had grown since she’d rescued him from the Indians was something he couldn’t quite grasp. She wasn’t the type of girl he’d ever expected to fall in love with, not the kind he could take home to his family. The McDonald’s expected their sons to marry well-educated, well-connected women, the type of woman who could enhance the family name and business.
He pulled the hat from his head and scratched his scalp. What was he thinking? Love? He hadn’t fallen in love with Loralei Holmes. Hell, she was just a girl. One who needed to be protected and watched over. What he felt was nothing more than the effects of being on the trail too long. It had been sometime since an available, willing female body had appeased his manly needs.
Humming a tune, Loralei sashayed around the rocks. “Breakfast will be done shortly.” She dipped to enter the cave.
The smile dancing on her adorable face made the blood rush to parts of his body that were already throbbing. He twirled, didn’t dare catch a glimpse of her backside as she crawled through the opening, and quickly made his way to the horses, barely able to mumble some sort of an acknowledgment about food.
Inside the cave, feeling about as happy as a lark, Loralei turned the rabbit roasting over the fire, and then moved to her saddle bags to take out her second set of clothes. After shaking the wrinkles from the mint green dress, a present from Mrs. Sutherland, she pulled out the other pair of britches she’d altered to fit, as well as her extra set of underclothes, and carried the garments outside to air.
Once the garments were secured to a few branches free of snow, she crawled back in the cave to retrieve her bucket. The thought of rinsing away the grime from days of traveling was delightful. Her smile increased two fold. There was also this little part of her that wanted Sam to see her in the green dress. It was the nicest she’d ever owned.
She and Sam almost collided in the cave opening. He backed up, rising to move aside while she crawled out. “I’m just going to get some water. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he offered, reaching for the bucket.
What was this giddy, joyful sense that swirled her insides whenever he was near? The handle tugged beneath her fingers, and she released the bucket. “Thanks. I’ll get breakfast.”
While he sidestepped down the slope to the creek, she carried the roasted meat, coffee, and other needed items into the fresh air. Sitting on the sun-dried rocks she pointed to his food portions as Sam strolled back to the cave. “I thought we could eat out here. It’s so lovely out.”
He nodded, but moved to the cave. “I’ll just set this by the fire first, so it can warm.”
“Thank you,” she said, nibbling on her food. The sunshine was enticing. She lifted her face and let the warm rays blaze against her cheeks. Sam had kept the fire going all night, which she was thankful for, the heat had been needed, but even with the escape hole on the roof, the smoldering flames had left the inside of the cave heavily smoke scented. She took yet another deep breath.
A rustle informed her Sam was emerging back out of the cave. She opened her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind. Eating out here, I mean.”
“No.” He sat down and retrieved the food she’d wrapped in a cloth to keep warm. “I figure we aren’t too far from Rock Creek, only a day or so. I don’t believe it’s a very large town, but we should be able to pick up a few supplies. Maybe spend the night in a hotel.”
She nodded in agreement. “I planned it to be my first supply stop. Mert said to look up Jim Barnes. Said he’s a fair man.”
“Did Mert say if Jim Barnes sells pickles?”
His smile was bright, and his eyes teasing. She grinned in return. “No, he didn’t say anything about pickles.”
“That’s surprising.”
A touch of seriousness entered her mind. “Well, it really doesn’t matter. I don’t have the funds to spend on such frivolous items anyway.”
“I do.”
His tone was soft, caring, and serious. She lifted her face. There it was again, that unknown draw that held her stare and wouldn’t let her pull away.
“I do,” he repeated. “And don’t mind spending it on pickles.”
She swallowed but couldn’t dream up a response.
He looked away first and brushed his hands on his knees. “I’m going to take the horses down the trail a ways. There’s a good clearing of grass. With the way the snow’s melting, they’ll be able eat their fill. I’ll be gone some time, so you should have plenty of time…”
A tiny frown formed on her forehead. Why had his face turned red? She wiped the meat juices off her fingers and tossed the remains of her breakfast to Ruth. “If you have things that need to be washed, I’d gladly do them for you.”
He stood, tossing the last bits of his meal to the dog as well. “No. Thanks for the offer, but—”
“Really,” she said, standing up, “it won’t be any trouble.” It was the least she could do, he’d been so wonderful about gathering food for meals, keeping fires going, taking care of the animals. She’d barely had to lift a finger with him as a traveling partner. And there was the fact she felt extremely safe and secure with him around. Matter of fact, she couldn’t recall a time she’d felt more protected. The knowledge warmed her blood as the beat of her heart increased.
“I do have an extra shirt in my saddle bag.”
“I’ll get it!” she exclaimed almost before he finished speaking and scampered for the cave door. Why on earth was she happy to wash clothes? She certainly never had been before in her life. It wasn’t that she hated doing laundry, but it wasn’t a task she greatly relished either.
Once inside the cave, she covered her face with both hands. Goodness, what was happening to her? It was as if someone else had invaded her mind and body. One minute everything was just fine, the next she was tingling from head to toe and couldn’t think straight.
Her heart tripped as she glanced at Sam’s saddle bag. He made her feel this way. But why? Well…he was very nice, only a touch stubborn now and again.
She crawled across the space and flipped open the leather flap on one side of his bag. The shirt was right there, crumpled and stuffed into the bag. As she pulled it out an envelope slid out. Intending to simply put it back in, she paused, taking a second glance at the writing across the front. Ty Bancroft.
Her hand began to tremble. Quickly, as if the paper could burn her skin, she shoved it back into the pouch. How had it slipped her mind? Sam was after the gambler and so was she. Once they found him and she got her necklace back, she and Sam would separate. He’d go back to New Orleans, and she on to Silver City. All of a sudden, her necklace didn’t seem so important.
“Stay, Ruth,” filtered in the cave.
Loralei scampered across the floor, stopping near the bucket. A moment later, Ruth poked her head in the doorway and the clip clop of horse’s hooves faded.
Letting out a sigh, Loralei checked the water in the bucket, and with her mind still tumbling about like a dry leaf in October, she moved to her saddle bags to retrieve a bar of soap and cotton cloth.
She’d told Two Moons Sam was taking her to her sister. It hadn’t been a lie, but that really wasn’t why they were traveling together. The thought made her frown and sent her searching for the reason. Absently, she striped her clothes off and washed from head to toe while her mind twisted and turned.
What if they got to Silver City and Maggie wasn’t there? This time her
heart stopped dead in her chest. Sam would move on, looking for Bancroft. What would she do? Go with him, keep looking for the necklace? Stay in Idaho? Wait for Maggie. What if she never came? What if something had happened to her? A lot could happen in ten years. What would she do then? Return to Timberland?
Dismal, depressing thoughts tried to crawl across her mind, but she scattered them aside. Maggie would be in Silver City. She’d promised and Maggie always did as she said.
When her scrubbing was complete, Loralei dropped the pile of clothes near her knees into the bucket of water. Pushing the clothes in, her hands stilled. “Oh, no,” she gasped, tugging out her sopping dress. “What has happened to my mind?”
The dress landed back into the water with a plop. She turned to Ruth, who dozed in the doorway. “Now what am I suppose to wear? My other clothes are outside on the bushes.”
Ruth cocked her head as if deliberating the question.
“It’s all his fault, you know,” she said to the dog. “Ever since he showed up, my mind has become a jumbled mess.”
Ruth bolted across the space, snatched Sam’s shirt still lying near his saddle bag, and dragged it across the floor.
Loralei took the proffered article. “I guess it’ll due. Thank you.” She slipped her arms into the sleeves and a wonderful scent filled her nose. She sniffed the material. Butterflies took flight in her stomach.
“Oh, good Lord,” she groaned. “It’s not just my mind, but my body, too.” Wrapping the flaps of the shirt tight across her chest, she scampered to the door and stuck her head out to assure the coast was clear before running to the bush to gather her clothes.
Ruth, waiting at the crawl-space door, sniffed the air.
“Excuse me,” Loralei said.
The dog surveyed the area once more, and then moved aside. Loralei let out a small chuckle. Crawling across the floor wearing Sam’s shirt was easier than doing so while wearing her layers of clothing, and since no one was around, she decided to continue to wear it while washing and hanging out her first set of clothing.
Afterwards, and with a sigh of regret, she stripped off the shirt and quickly donned her dress and britches before washing the shirt and hanging it to dry. There was something about that, too. His shirt stretched out across the low branches of fir tree beside hers that made her heart pitter-patter.
Contemplating the meaning, or reasoning, she wasn’t quite sure which, Loralei dampened a towel in the water and washed away the traveling dust from her saddle. She bought it after she was certain Mr. Baumgartner wouldn’t sell Raindrop, using money she’d earned and kept hid in Ruth’s pack. Mert had been kind enough to keep it at his place until last winter, when she finally brought it home after nursing Mr. Sutherland.
A chill rippled her spine, and she surmised it must be from remembrance. Mr. Baumgartner had been furious when he saw it, wanted to know where it came from. Mrs. Baumgartner had stepped in front of Loralei ready to stop Mr. Baumgartner’s fury, but instead, the woman had collapsed, coughing and extremely ill. It had been the only time Loralei had seen kindness in Mr. Baumgartner, for he’d been extremely gentle when he lifted his wife and laid her fever-filled body on their rope bed.
Loralei finished the chore and made a mental note to purchase some saddle soap and give the tack a good cleaning after she found Maggie. What if Maggie was married by now? What would happen then? Would she be able to stay with them, or would Maggie’s husband be like Mr. Baumgartner?
Ruth let out a low growl, and Loralei quivered, wondering if Maggie had to lie to her husband like Mrs. Baumgartner lied to Mr. Baumgartner. When Ruth growled again, low and menacing, Loralei moved to the doorway.
The dog shot out before her, snarling.
A large man, covered in animal hides, fingered the clothes hanging on the pine tree. He turned around, and Loralei swallowed the lump in her throat. There wasn’t a hair on his big round head, but his face was covered with whiskers that hung down to his chest. A scar split one of his eyebrows and tugged down the outside of his left eye.
Ruth, teeth showing, stood in front of Loralei. The man glared at the dog and then pulled a long knife from the belt tied around his thick middle.
Loralei scampered out of the hole and leaped to her feet. “No!”
Chapter Eight
Sam crouched at the edge of the field, rifle drawn and sites aimed. He’d prefer to have a shotgun, for bird hunting that is, but the rifle was what he had. Not that it mattered; the blue grouse staring back at him was one of the stupidest birds on earth. There wasn’t much game in shooting an animal so willing to die, but he wasn’t doing it for the sport, he was doing it so Loralei would have a slight change in her diet—she had to be getting tired of rabbit. Not that she’d complain. Just the opposite actually. Every meal she’d thanked him profusely for his meager offerings.
A smile curled his lips. If only there was a way he could hunt pickles.
Without further ado, he shot the grouse and then meandered over to retrieve it, all the while wondering if the store in Rock Creek would have a pickle barrel. He also speculated how much it would cost to buy the whole barrel. As if King knew his thoughts, the horse let out a neigh. Sam chuckled, imagining the animal had just said, “I’m not carrying a barrel of pickles.”
An hour or so later, with the grouse carcass hanging off his saddle, Sam, on King, and leading Raindrop, rode into their little camp on the side of the mountain. The first thing he noticed where the clothes twisted and hanging cock-eyed off the tree boughs. They should be dry by now, he’d made sure he’d stayed away long enough. Catching her in a half-state of dress would be more than his tension filled loins could take.
The next thing he noticed was no smoke trailed out of the alcove. The sun had long since passed overhead, and the cave would be chilly. The third thing he noticed, which is what made a shiver curl around and zip up his spine was that Ruth didn’t bark, announcing his arrival.
He leaped from the saddle, scanning the area as he ran to the alcove. “Loralei?” he shouted, falling to his knees to scramble in the opening. “Loralei?”
Her bucket sat near the bed of ashes, her saddle and other belongings near one wall, and his few things along the other. He scooted back out. “Loralei!” His shout echoed off the hill sides. The sounds grew softer with each repeat. He glanced around again, hoping he’d missed something. He hadn’t.
Yelling her name, over and over again until the ricochets filled the mountain top, he ran to the cave that had housed the horses.
Half an hour later, sweat rolled off his forehead as he ran back to the alcove. He’d searched everywhere, only to come up empty-handed at every turn. The snow had melted, along with it any signs as to what direction she’d gone. Apprehension riddled his skin. It would soon be dark, and he had no idea where to look for her.
Sam dug his heels into the hard rock outside the tiny cave entrance. Stilling his body, trying to clear his clouded mind, he took a moment to concentrate. Where would she have gone? Why would she have left camp?
No answers came, but a foreboding showered his body with an icy rain. He dove into the cave.
****
Loralei, skin rippling with shivers, stared at the blazing campfire. Three men, the other two as frightening as the one she confronted, sat around the flames, laughing and swigging on a stoneware jug. They were trappers, but she didn’t recognize them as any Mert traded with. She shouldn’t be surprised about meeting some on the trail, it had been a trapper’s route long before the wagon trains and gold diggers had started to traipse along it.
Without lifting her face, not wanting them to know she was awake, she peeked toward the cave opening. Part of her wanted to see white and black fur. Wanted to know Ruth was all right. The other part of her didn’t want to see the dog, didn’t want the animal to come anywhere near these men.
Ruth had been too quick for the trapper to snatch. But she hadn’t. After two unsuccessful attempts to grab the dog, the man had leaped forward and seized L
oralei.
The back of her head still throbbed, and she could only imagine there was a welt the size of a horseshoe. Loralei closed her eyes momentarily. She couldn’t remember anything after the point of blinding pain, until a few minutes ago, when she’d woke up in this cave.
The men, all three covered in hide robes and long scraggly hair—other than the bald one—continued conversing loud and unruly. Thankfully they hadn’t looked her way—yet. She peered around, wondered for a moment if they were in the cave where Sam had stabled the horses the night before. A lump filled her throat. This one was smaller, much smaller. The knowledge sliced at her chest. She had no idea where she was, which meant Sam didn’t know either. Would he return and wonder where she went, or would he pack up his belongings and take off in his search for Ty Bancroft?
She closed her eyes again, partly to block the tears trying to form. There truly was no reason for Sam to come looking for her. It wasn’t as if they were friends or relatives or anything like that. They simply had been traveling in the same direction. He certainly had been good company, and she already missed him so much her heart burned.
“Naw, she’s still out.” The gruff sounding voice echoed in the cave, and she willed herself not to move.
“I know how to wake her,” another voice said.
Hoots and laughs echoed off the walls.
Loralei held her breath. She didn’t have anything, not her rifle, not her dog…nothing to assist her.
“No!” Another trapper said demandingly. “Virgin’s ain’t no fun. All they do is scream and cry. We’ll keep her just like she is. Take her to Malone’s place. He pays top dollar for untouched girls.”
“How do you know she’s untouched?”
“’Cause I’ve seen her before. Over in Timberland. She fixed up One-eyed Joe’s leg a couple winters ago.”
“Maybe things have changed since then. Maybe she ain’t a virgin no more.”
“No, she’s still a virgin. Mert looked out for her. He’d have made sure no one touched her.”
