She reached for the top button of the shirt she wore. Hastily, she unbuttoned it to her waist, and glanced downward. The makeshift bandage that was wrapped around her breasts was soaked crimson with blood that hadn’t been there earlier. Tori lifted the bandage away from her chest. Fresh blood smeared her skin around a long, deep slash mark just above her breast. If she remained quiet, the bleeding would stop. From what she could see, it didn’t look to be festering. She’d have to find an opportunity to unwrap the bandage later once she found something else to replace it with. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks at the thought of Lucas wrapping the cotton material around her. In order to clean it properly, he had to have exposed her entire chest.
Ignoring her embarrassment, Tori glanced around the room. When was the last time a full blaze warmed her cabin? She hadn’t been able to chop enough wood over the summer and fall months to last her all winter, so she had to severely ration her supply when she couldn’t leave the cabin to gather deadfall. It often meant huddling under blankets and furs to stay warm.
She inhaled deeply of the aroma of the food simmering in the pot. The last time she’d successfully made a kill had been more than a week ago. The small rabbit she’d snared hadn’t kept the hunger pangs away for long. She yearned for winter to be over. There would be plenty of game come spring and summer. Tori shook her head slightly.
How are you going to shoot a buck? Your bullets are all but gone. She’d simply have to find another way to bring down game. Perhaps Black Sparrow would return, and he could teach her how to make and use a bow.
The sound of an ax striking wood drifted from outside. It was a comforting sound. She’d always enjoyed the sound of her father chopping wood while she prepared their evening meal. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
You can’t be dependent on a man. It’s bad enough he now knows you’re a woman.
What if he told someone? No one could know she was here. Only Black Sparrow knew her secret, but that couldn’t be helped. If she hadn’t intervened when he tried to hide from that band of Bannock, they would have killed him. Besides, he was an Indian, and unlikely to tell anyone about her. If any white men found out, they would take her back to St. Louis. She could never go back to her old life. If she did, she was as good as dead.
The cabin door burst open, and Tori spun around. She fought the momentary lightheadedness caused by her quick action. Her eyes met those of Lucas Walker as he carried in an armload of fresh wood. He shook some snow from his damp hair. Dark strands fell forward over his eyes.
An easy grin lit up his face, and his stare appraised her state of dress. Without any apparent concern, he bent to deposit his load of wood by the hearth. He acted with a familiarity as if he’d been here forever, and what had happened a little while ago never occurred. Tori resisted the impulse to reach for her knife, but relaxed her shoulders instead.
Don’t let your guard down. Don’t trust anyone.
Lucas Walker straightened, and his deep blue eyes locked on her.
“Well, if you’re more agreeable now, how about some supper?” he asked, and reached for a couple of tin plates on the shelf over the hearth.
Tori swallowed. She couldn’t deny that she was famished, and her mouth watered again at the thought of easing the hunger pangs in her belly. She nodded slowly.
“Sit, and I’ll bring you a plate.” He motioned to the table. The birds he’d brought earlier still lay on its surface. She moved them to the small bench along the wall, and pulled out a chair. She didn’t know what to make of this man. He’d simply taken over. Tori remained silent for now. There was nothing she could do at the moment to make him leave. He’d already proven that he could overtake her easily.
Lucas ladled food onto both plates, and set one in front of her. He took a seat across from her, and handed her a spoon. Her fingers grazed his, and Tori flinched. A warm sensation raced through her hand and up her arm, leaving a tingling path in its wake. She pulled away, and sucked in a quick breath. Puzzled, she lifted her head. Lucas wore a confused look on his face. He cleared his throat, and dipped his spoon into the food, then paused and met her eyes again.
“So, now that you’re not gonna kill me, will you tell me your real name, or do you prefer to go by Vic?”
Chapter 5
Tori stared across the table. Lucas’ eyes were on her, peering expectantly from underneath black brows. He leaned slightly forward over his plate, obviously waiting for her answer. Vic was the shortened male version of her name, a nickname her father had used since she was a little girl. Papa had always wanted a son, and Tori had tried her best to live up to his expectations. He’d taught her how to shoot when she was barely old enough to hold a rifle in her hand, and took her hunting in the woods along the Missouri whenever he had the chance.
Her mother would have preferred to keep her at home, wearing dresses and doing domestic chores. Tori had avoided ribbons and petticoats for most of her youth. It was the day after her fifteenth birthday, while her pa took her into town to sell some of their furs they had collected over the winter, when all that had changed. A new merchant had bought the old mercantile from Abel Watkins. His son, Timothy, had struck up a conversation with her, fascinated by her hunting tales. She’d been instantly smitten with him.
Feeling rather self-conscious in britches and pigtails, Tori had returned home, and asked mother to sew her a dress and teach her how to put up her hair like a proper young woman. When Timothy came to her parents’ farm to invite her on a picnic, her young girl’s heart had been hopelessly smitten. As the weeks went by, they’d spent more and more time together, and Timothy had told her that he loved her. He refused to call her by the name her father used, and started calling her Tori instead. “A pretty girl like you has to have a better name than Vic,” he’d told her while holding her in his arms.
“Vic definitely doesn’t suit you.” Lucas Walker’s deep voice startled her out of her thoughts.
Tori’s spoon dropped from her hand. She studied Lucas’ handsome face, trying to conjure the image of Timothy’s features in her mind. Try as she might, he remained a faded memory. The easy smile Lucas wore constantly brought a twinkle to his eyes, the same eyes that would, no doubt, send men cowering with his angry stare.
Don’t tell him anything. The less he knows about you, the better.
“It’s what my pa called me,” she answered evasively, and dropped her gaze to stare at her food. She blinked at the sudden stinging sensation at the back of her eyes.
Dammit. Not now. Don’t cry in front of him.
Tori pushed her chair away from the table, and stood. She turned her back to Lucas, and headed for her father’s bunk. Her vision blurred and she snatched up the first of his shirts that her hand made contact with - a blue flannel that had been one of his favorites. She clutched the fabric in her hand, and held it to her chest. An ache deeper than the wound from the wolverine’s claw tore through her. Unable to hold back any longer, she sobbed.
How long had she suppressed the tears? She had cried when she found him lying in the snow more than a year ago, gasping for his last breath, but never again after that. He had sacrificed everything for her. He’d given up his farm and his marriage to save her. Why did he have to die and leave her all alone? Why did Timothy have to die four years ago?
“Does that mean you won’t tell me your name?”
Lucas Walker’s voice so close behind her sent an inexplicable jolt of longing through her. She hastily swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks to wipe away the moisture. For the better part of a year, she’d been alone, without another person for company. Black Sparrow had been a welcome temporary visitor, but his limited English vocabulary made communicating with him difficult.
Lucas’ presence unsettled her. What was it about him that made her drop her guard, and left her feeling vulnerable and needy? She stiffened her spine, and sucked in a deep breath. She didn’t owe Lucas an explanation. She didn’t owe him anything.
You o
we him your life.
Perhaps it would have been better if he had left her to die. She’d barely survived the winter as it was. How was she going to live through another lonely year, always afraid, always looking over her shoulder, wondering when someone would recognize her and take her back to St. Louis?
You’d see Mama again.
Had her mother forgiven Jasper for leaving? Would she have wanted Tori to run away and live a life of seclusion and in hiding?
“Vic?”
Tori turned slowly. Lucas stood right behind her. She had to tilt her head to look up at him. He smiled, but it wasn’t the jovial kind of smile he’d worn earlier. This smile was one of reassurance, that she wasn’t alone. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and for a fleeting moment, the confident man before her seemed a bit unsure.
“A beautiful woman like you has to have a better name than Vic,” he finally said, and his eyebrows rose with anticipation. Something in his eyes belied his casual tone.
A small gasp escaped from Tori’s mouth. Almost the exact same words Timothy had spoken echoed in her mind. The difference was that he had said them with love in his eyes. She stared up at Lucas. There were no similarities between the two. Although she couldn’t recall many of Timothy’s physical features, he’d been a quiet, well-spoken and refined young man. Lucas was rugged, daring, and not to mention, rude.
And much too handsome. Had Timothy been as pleasing to the eye as Lucas Walker?
Was he mocking her with his compliment? When was the last time you’ve felt like a woman, Tori? She swallowed, and her heart rate accelerated, remembering the answer to her own question. The night Timothy made you a woman. She’d barely been sixteen years old.
“Besides, since you’re so determined for me to let you die, I’ll need to know what name to put on your grave marker.” The corners of Lucas’ mouth twitched.
The words startled her from her thoughts.
“You’re so thoughtful, Walker.” She clenched her teeth as anger welled inside her. How could she possibly have entertained even a moments’ notion that Lucas Walker possessed an ounce of compassion?
Lucas lowered his gaze to her chest, and his face hardened. “You’re bleeding. If you don’t take care of that wound, I will be digging that grave, and I’d rather not, considering the ground is still frozen.”
Tori’s eyes shot downward. Blood had soaked through the bandage and into her shirt. Alarmed, she jerked away from Lucas. How was she going to change her bandage with him glaring at her?
“I need to check on my horse. Call out if you need help.”
Tori turned her head just as he pulled his coat off the peg on the wall and disappeared through the cabin door.
She inhaled a deep breath. Why did he have to be so . . . so callous? One moment he acted genuinely pleasant, and the next he had to be rude again. She shook her head slightly. It didn’t matter. Once the weather cleared, she’d tell him to leave. The problem still remained that he knew about her. Perhaps she’d have to relocate, but now was not the time to think about that.
Tori unbuttoned the stained shirt, and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. She unwrapped the shirt that served as a bandage from around her chest. Peering down at the oozing wound, she gingerly touched the edges. The slash was deeper than she had first thought. This wound needed stitches, but there was no possible way she could do it herself.
She glanced toward the door. This was no time for modesty. Lucas had already seen her without clothes. What did it matter if he saw her again? The question was, would he agree to stitch her up?
There’s only one way to find out, Tori.
She squared her shoulders and sucked in a quick breath of air, then pressed her soiled shirt against her chest. After locating her sewing needle and some thread, she opened the cabin door. A cold blast of air hit her bare arms, and she shivered. She gritted her teeth and peered out the door. Like it or not, she needed his help.
“Walker?” she called into the cold evening air, her breath swirling in a gray mist in front of her face. She glanced toward the nearby trees. Where had he bedded down his horse? There was a sheltered stand of pines a short distance from the cabin where she and Papa kept their horses during the worst of the winter weather. His horse had been killed by a cougar last spring, and her own mount had run off shortly after.
“What’s wrong?”
Lucas appeared instantly from around the side of the cabin. His stride halted when he caught sight of her, and his gaze darted to her bare shoulders. Tori clutched the shirt tighter to cover her breasts. Lucas slowly raised his eyes back to her face, and she almost laughed at the surprised look in his stare.
She moved aside and motioned with her hand for him to come inside. Silently, he obliged, keeping a suspicious eye on her as he stepped into the cabin. She closed the door behind him, and waited for him to face her. Tori squared her shoulders. She raised her chin at his expectant look, and drew in a deep breath.
“My name is Victoria, and I need you to stitch up my wound.”
* * * * *
Lucas swallowed. He’d rather be locked out in a blizzard overnight than do what Vic . . . Victoria, asked him to do. The fact that she was a woman, a very beautiful woman, seemed even more obvious now that she had revealed her name.
He studied the determined look on her face. He’d hoped when he cleaned and bandaged her wound that it might close on its own. The thought had crossed his mind that she needed stitching, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it while she’d been unconscious.
Lucas ran his hand along his jaw. Rough bristles scraped his fingers. She was right. Judging by the amount of blood that had soaked through the bandage, the wound needed sewing up. He clenched his fist. The cuts the wolverine’s bite had left in his arm tugged his skin taut. It wasn’t nearly as bad as her injury, and had scabbed over nicely. Would she be able to endure the pain he had to inflict on her to get the job done? Hell. Would he be able to endure it?
He never shied away from tending to someone’s injuries, whether it meant stitching up a cut or cauterizing a bullet wound. This was different. She was a woman. How much pain could she withstand?
“I have a needle and thread.” She thrust her hand out to him.
Lucas glanced at her opened palm. “Horsehair might be better.”
He didn’t move. He couldn’t move. His eyes locked on her face, studying every little contour of her soft lips, the way she blinked, the slight creases in her cheeks when her mouth set firmly in annoyance, and the wrinkles in her forehead. A strange sensation of falling, floating through the air overcame him, and Lucas shifted weight from one foot to the other to stave off the feeling.
“You have a horse, don’t you?” Her irritated voice lifted the spell he was under.
Lucas cleared his throat, and he tore his eyes away from her.
“Will you do it, or are you just going to stand there and contemplate how deep you’ll have to dig my grave?” She raised her chin, and shook her head slightly. Her hair framed her face, some strands cascading over the front of her shoulders. Lucas tightened his fist to suppress the urge to loop the golden threads between his fingers.
He struggled to clear his mind. “There’s water in the bucket by the hearth. Clean the wound, then lie on your bunk. I’ll go ask my horse for some hair from his tail.”
Lucas yanked the cabin door open. The last bit of daylight was quickly fading behind the mountains. He swiped at the perspiration on his forehead, despite the cold.
Victoria. She had a strong name, which suited her character. She’d sure been victorious in her struggle for survival. Why the hell was she even here, in the mountains, on her own? What the hell did it matter to him?
Lucas found his horse munching on some grasses that poked through the snow a short distance away. The gelding raised his head and snorted, but wisely didn’t try and run away. The animal wasn’t dumb after all. At least he’d learned that the hobbles on his feet restricted his movements.
> “I’m sure you won’t mind doing a good deed for Miss Victoria, will you, horse?” Lucas patted the gelding’s neck. The animal swished his tail in response, and pinned his ears. Lucas grinned, and stroked the horse’s withers.
“You like me about as much as the lady does.”
Lucas straightened. Lady? Victoria Williams didn’t act like any lady he’d ever met. Joseph’s wife, Sophie, now there was a lady. Boston-raised and everything. She’d learned fast how to live in the harsh Teton Mountains, but she hadn’t lost any of her fancy manners and upbringing.
Lucas plucked a few strands of hair from his gelding’s tail, and headed back toward the cabin. Try as he might, he couldn’t picture Victoria in a dress, or mixing with polite society. A wide smile formed on his face. She might even look downright funny in a dress.
She looks just fine in . . . Lucas chuckled. She hadn’t worn a whole lot since he found out she was a girl.
His heart hammered in his chest as he approached the cabin. When was the last time he was scared of something? A chill ran down his spine. Victoria scared the hell out of him, and he couldn’t put a finger on the reason why. She was such a little thing, what could he possibly have to fear from her?
Lucas reached for the cabin door. He hesitated. Inhaling a deep breath, he pushed it open. His eyes immediately fell to her bunk, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. Victoria lay on the bed. Her head lifted slightly from her pillow, and she stared at him.
“Took you long enough,” she grumbled. She’d draped a blanket over her torso and breasts, leaving the wound exposed, and it appeared as if she’d washed away most of the blood.
Lucas removed his coat, then stepped up to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, and concentrated on her face.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” He clenched his jaw, knowing how much pain he would inflict on her.
Teton Romance Trilogy Bundle: Includes Yellowstone Proposal (Short Story) Page 50
