I do, I do, I do

by Maggie Osborne

  At the height of their ecstasy, the ropes supporting the bouncing mattress broke with pinging snaps, one after another, and the mattress dropped to the floor, spilling them out on the rug. They scarcely noticed. Clara rolled on top of him, arched her throat, and rocked her body, feeling the burn of his hands on her hips and his mouth on her breasts.

  Waves of dizzying sensation shivered through her. She couldn't see, couldn't think, could only soar and fall, soar and fall, mindlessly chanting his name. When her body slumped over him, he rolled her beneath him and thrust into her so fully, so fast and deep and hard that she thought the whole earth had slipped from its axis.

  But it was the cabin. As Bear shouted her name and stiffened above her, the southern corner of the cabin rocked off its piling and smashed down on the frozen ground. An enormous crash sounded from the living room as the billiard table slid along the incline and then crashed against the south wall, bringing down the rest of the trophy heads. Tables and chairs followed, breaking apart as they smashed into the pile of debris.

  The broken bed slid past them and slammed against the interior wall where the bureau had been. The bureau was now in the living room. They heard it crash and shatter against the billiard table.

  Locked together, holding tight, Clara and Bear rolled downhill and hit the side slat of the broken bed.

  As awareness slowly returned to Bear's gaze, he lifted his head and looked around. "My God," he breathed, staring down at her. "We wrecked my cabin!" Awe widened his eyes. "Good Lord, woman. You are the most magnificent creature who ever lived! I adore you. I worship the ground you walk on."

  Laughing, Clara pushed the hair out of her eyes and struggled to sit up. "Give me one of your shirts, will you? We need to see what happened and make sure none of the lamps started a fire."

  "I can see that I'm going to have to build us a house set in concrete! Never in my life have I had an experience that even came close to this! My house is wrecked, I'm covered with bruises. I don't think I could survive making love to you more than once a day." Grinning, he pulled himself off the floor and reached for the clothing swaying on the row of hooks. He tossed her a shirt and pulled on a pair of trousers. Then he did a double take and bent over her. "Is that a blue ribbon?"

  "I believe it is," she said, trying to sound modest. When she extended her hand, he pulled her up, and she put on his shirt.

  Laughing, he shook his head and then kissed her soundly. "Honey girl, if ever I saw a bottom that deserved a blue ribbon, yours is it."

  "You were pretty spectacular yourself," Clara said, fluttering her eyelashes and giving him an admiring look. When he stepped toward her with that look in his eye, she placed a hand on his big muscled chest. "First, we better check out the damage."

  He gave her a lingering kiss, then dug around in the corner of the bedroom until he found his rubber-soled boots that would grip the floor and help keep him from sliding down the sharp incline.

  They made their way to the bedroom doorway and peered out. All the furniture was now a pile of broken rubble in the south corner. Fortunately, the fireplace was on the south wall, and the drop had not spilled out any flaming logs. But there was a small fire growing near the bedroom door.

  While Bear beat out the flames with the bedroom rug, Clara crept toward the kitchen. The stove was wedged in the doorway. She called the news to Bear.

  "Don't worry. It isn't hot. I'd planned a cold supper, a fried chicken picnic. Can we get to the food?"

  "I've climbed Chilkoot Pass. I guess I can climb over a stove."

  The kitchen was a god-awful mess of broken crockery, shattered jars, spilled flour and sugar. The smell of pickle brine rilled her nostrils. But she came back to the living room carrying their picnic basket.

  Bear was beating out another small fire at the edge of the rubble. Clara watched him, remembering that her clothes were under the pile of debris. Well, she'd worry about that problem when it was time to get dressed.

  " The roof's cracked, and the chinking fell out of the walls. It's going to get cold in here. I think we have time enough to eat and then wreck the other end of the house before we start to freeze."

  Returning his grin, Clara pulled herself up into the bedroom. She pushed the broken bed aside and arranged the mattress to curve up the interior wall. They could sit on one half and rest their backs against the half leaning on the wall.

  Once she'd created a place for them, she took stock of herself. She'd rolled his shirtsleeves up to her wrists, and the shirttail fell past her knees. She was mostly covered, but already she felt a flow of icy wind streaming through the house. What she wanted most right now was a hairbrush. Wild tangled hair curled down her back and frizzed around her face. But there wasn't a hope of finding her hairpins in the mess of debris.

  "Why are you laughing?" Bear asked, pulling himself through the bedroom door. He dropped down on the mattress beside her and opened the picnic basket.

  "I'm imagining Zoe's and Juliette's expression when I come home disheveled and wearing a set of your clothes." She would never hear the end of it. "Are you going to tell people how your cabin got wrecked?"

  He handed her a chicken breast and a boiled egg. "If I did, I've have to fight every man in the Yukon because every one of them would beat a path to your door," he said, laughing.

  She arched an eyebrow. "Are you blaming me for destroying your house?"

  "Hell, no," he said, still laughing. "I'm giving you the credit." He bit into a chicken leg. "Clara girl, I can build another cabin. I'll build us a hundred of them, and if you wreck them all, I'll be a happy man."

  And now came the moment that Zoe and Juliette had spoken of, a moment of pain so intense that Clara leaned forward and gasped, placing a hand on her side.

  Bear blithely and happily assumed they had made a commitment tonight. This was the second time he had referred to building a house for them. Where they would live together happily ever after.

  He stared at her with alarm. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," she said, blinking at sudden tears. "Oh, Bear. You've been open and honest with me, but I…" She halted. "Do you smell smoke?"

  "Smoke?" Lowering the chicken leg, he raised his head and sniffed. "I'm sure I put out the fires."

  "It's getting stronger."

  "You're right. I smell it, too."

  He'd just reached for a napkin when the far corner of the bedroom burst into flames. For a stunned moment, neither of them moved. They stared at the fire in shock.

  "This isn't possible," Bear said, frowning. "There were no lamps in that corner."

  Clara scrambled up. There was no hope of beating out this fire. It was too hot, and spreading with stunning speed. "We have to get out!" Frantically, she looked around for something to cover her bare feet.

  "Here." Bear tossed her two mismatched boots, a pair of his trousers, and a vest. "Go directly to the door and get out. I'll come as soon as I find our coats in the rubble."

  She glanced at the fire, then up at his face. The fire was sweeping across the ceiling. "If you don't find the coats, immediately—"

  "I'll get out. Go!"

  Clutching the boots and clothing to her chest, Clara stumbled to the bedroom door. "Bear! The smashed end is on fire, too!" Smoke curling in the corner burst into fire with a soft whooshing sound and flames crawled over the rubble.

  "This simply isn't possible. I don't… Go, honey girl, move!"

  Slipping and sliding, she inched upward toward the outside door, now at the highest point of the lopsided cabin. The doorway would be four or five feet above the ground, and she'd have to jump. That wasn't a problem. The frigid cold would be. She tried not to wonder how long they could survive without adequate clothing. Long enough to walk a mile back to the Lake Bennett camp? Not now, think about it later. Right now, all she had to do was get out.

  At the steepest slant, her feet went out from under her, and she would have slid helplessly down the length of the living room and into the flames if Bear hadn't
caught her. Gripping his shoulders, she watched the boots and extra clothing tumble toward the corner and disappear into the smoke and fire.

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at him. She was going to jump out of the burning cabin wearing only a shirt. "One thing at a time," he said, understanding. "First we get out. Then, there should be some extra blankets in the kennel."

  Nodding, she turned and half crawled, half climbed to the door. All she had to do was touch the latch and the door swung inward. Instantly a rush of numbing cold raised goose bumps on her bare legs and throat.

  In front of her, the shadow of the house wavered across the snow, its outline framed in flickering red and orange. She had an absurd urge to hold her nose as she jumped out of the burning house as if she were jumping into water instead of snow. The instant she hit the snow, she rolled out of the way so Bear could jump after her.

  She heard him hit the ground as she pushed to her feet, feeling first an icy cold on her toes and soles, then a burning sensation.

  "Clara! I figured it out. This is an ambush! Get down!"

  She heard a whack and stupidly stared at a flying chip gouged out of the cabin side. Then Bear was in front of her, his big hands pushing on her shoulders.

  He stiffened, his fingers dug into her flesh, then he arched backward and fell in the snow, rolling to rest facedown. To her horror, she saw blood on his back. Lifting her head, confused and horrified, she peered toward the woods.

  She heard the shot just as a burning punch struck her in the shoulder and spun her around. Before she fell, another bullet ripped through her side.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  A Canadian named Dilly Dame offered the use of his cabin for Clara's recuperation. Mrs. Eddington and her husband took Bear in with them. Clara and Bear were seriously but not critically wounded; both had lost a lot of blood and suffered minor frostbite before the men found them. Had the fire not been spotted leaping above the trees, and a group of men hadn't rushed up the mountainside to offer assistance, Clara and Bear would have frozen or bled to death.

  Zoe leaned back in the chair beside Clara's bed and closed her eyes, wondering if there was anything she had overlooked. Tom had removed the bullet in Clara's shoulder. The bullet that struck Clara's side and the bullet in Bear's shoulder had both passed through, leaving ragged exit wounds. Those were the injuries that worried Zoe most.

  Zoe had cleaned Clara's wounds with alcohol and packed them with surgeon's lint. She and Mrs. Eddington gave their patients regular doses of tincture of aconite to fight inflammation. They soaked the blistered frostbitten areas in kerosene oil. They insisted that their patients wear slings so as not to jostle healing shoulders. Zoe reminded herself that Clara and Bear were strong and healthy, and in fact, five days after the event, both were on the mend.

  "I'm ready to be up and about," Clara stubbornly insisted. But less than a minute later she covered a yawn and her lashes fluttered sleepily.

  Zoe helped her sit up and offered a tin cup of water. "Rest is what you need now."

  "The fever's gone, and I'm fine. Just tired. How is Bear doing?"

  "Very well," Zoe assured her. "But Mrs. Eddington says he's a terrible patient. She doesn't think she can keep him inside another day. She says she's wearing herself to a nub trotting over here four times a day, but if she doesn't get reports about you, Bear starts putting on his coat to come himself."

  Clara eased back to her pillow, favoring the side where she'd been shot. "Now I know why you and Juliette cry at night," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Oh, Zoe, I love him so much, but it's hopeless. What are we going to do?"

  Zoe asked herself the same question a dozen times a day. Every time Tom said something that indicated he assumed they would marry, she shriveled a little more inside, liked herself a little less. "I wish we'd told the truth from the beginning," she said finally. "Maybe we'd have become laughingstocks and a favorite target for gossip. And maybe Tom and Ben and Bear would not have come courting." She blinked hard at the log ceiling. "But we wouldn't feel deceitful and dishonest every time they look at us. Maybe we'd have a little self-respect." When she lowered her head, she discovered she was talking to herself. Clara had fallen asleep.

  Clara was still sleeping when Juliette returned from checking on Bear and popped her head into the bedroom. She examined Clara, then beckoned to Zoe.

  "We need to talk," Juliette said quietly, heading for Mr. Dame's small kitchen.

  "It must be important if it can't wait until you take off your coat and mittens."

  Making a face, Juliette tossed her hat and mittens on the sideboard, then poured them each a cup of strong coffee before she removed her coat and sat at the table.

  "First, Bear's still weak and mad as a wet hen about it. But he's sitting up most of the day now."

  "Clara was up for several hours, too." She studied Juliette's angry gray eyes. "Now tell me what's troubling you."

  "It's Jake Horvath. He's bragging all over camp that he brought down the mighty Bear Barrett and his whore." Juliette winced. "He says he shot Bear because he believes Bear cheated him out of the Bare Bear, and he shot Clara because he wanted Bear to know how it felt to lose something he valued."

  Zoe frowned. "He's bragging?"

  Juliette came to her feet and paced in front of the table. "That's not all. He swears he's going to finish the job. He's going to kill them both! Mr. Eddington heard him say this. I told Ben about the threats, but Ben already knew. He said they've sent someone to the Mounties' new headquarters at Fort Herchmer. But that's near Dawson, at least five weeks from here and five weeks back. Assuming the Mounties leave at once and encounter no bad weather, it will be close to three months before they come to arrest Horvath. If they come at all! And they may not." She looked at Zoe. "Ben says there are only about two hundred Mounties to police the entire Yukon territory, and they undoubtedly have more serious crimes to follow up than an ambush and attempted murder."

  "Horvath threatened to 'finish the job'?" Zoe's heart sank. She'd wondered if Horvath would be satisfied with almost killing Bear and Clara or if he'd make another attempt.

  Juliette nodded. Sitting down, she pounded a fist on the table. "And no one is doing anything to stop him!"

  "Tom explained there's a group talking hard against vigilantism. They're saying no one was killed. They're saying this is between Bear and Horvath." She knew Tom felt pulled between going after Horvath and agreeing that vigilantism was wrong. The same conflict circled in her own mind.

  "Zoe." Juliette cupped her hands around the coffee mug and leaned forward. "Horvath is going to kill Clara and Bear. And no one intends to do anything about it. We can't let that happen. Clara is… She's our sister. And Bear is our friend."

  Bear was a better friend than Zoe had dreamed. Finally Tom had told her that it was Bear who had paid almost half of their passage to Dawson. Bear. She never would have guessed.

  "On a different subject," she said, clearing her throat. "I know I've said this a dozen times in the last few days, but Juliette, I'm so sorry for the nasty things I said to you when I believed you'd paid the extra to pack us to Dawson. I'll always regret it. I've been so wrong about a lot of things."

  Juliette waved the apology aside. "Zoe, please. If we don't do something, Clara and Bear are going to get killed."

  Slowly, Zoe nodded. Juliette wasn't saying anything that Zoe hadn't already considered. "What would you suggest?"

  "I think we should make a citizen's arrest and confine Jake Horvath to his tent until the Mounties get here. If no one else will do it, then you and I can take turns guarding him."

  "Us? You and me?" She hadn't expected this sort of suggestion. Her impulse was to laugh, but Juliette's serious nod kept any smile from her lips. "What makes you think Horvath will allow us to confine him to his tent?"

  "If he refuses, then you shoot him."

  "What?"

  "You came up here to shoot a man, didn't you? Well, shoot this one. Zoe, if Bear kills
Horvath, then the Mounties will come after him because it would be a revenge killing. If we shoot Horvath, we can say that we had to do it because he resisted arrest. You know Bear won't try to arrest him. Bear will just walk up and kill him. He won't have a strong defense, but we will. Especially if Horvath threatens us."

  "I think you can count on a few threats," Zoe said dryly. Then she narrowed her gaze. "You keep saying 'we.' Do you plan to shoot Horvath, too?"

  "Of course not, I don't know how to shoot a gun. But I'm willing to be an accessory by coming along to support you. I don't care if I get arrested. It's better that you and I get arrested than that Clara gets killed. And Zoe, we don't know when Horvath will strike, but I believe we can agree it will be soon. If you were Horvath, would you wait until Bear is strong and well again?"

  Zoe stared. Juliette's argument was making sense: the situation was dire.

  "For all we know, Horvath is creeping around outside right now. He's probably planning to go after the easiest prey first, and that's Clara!"

  Alarmed and worried, Zoe stood and peered out the ice-block window. The ice was so thick that all she could see was a smear of greens, whites, and browns.

  "Before we go after Horvath, there are a couple of things we have to talk about." She drew a breath. "Suppose for a minute that Horvath won't agree to be arrested. Suppose he threatens us, and suppose I have to shoot him. Then suppose the Mounties arrive and arrest me for killing Horvath and they arrest you for being part of it."

  "Yes?" Juliette drummed her fingers impatiently.

  "Who's going to shoot Jean Jacques if I'm arrested?"

  "That's easy. You give Clara your rifle, then she continues on to Dawson and she shoots him."

  "She's like you. She's never shot a weapon."

  "So she can learn. Or she can poison him. Or she can hire someone to do the deed." Juliette shrugged.

  "Sometimes you amaze me." It was hard to believe that she had once dismissed Juliette as a prissy simpering creature with no backbone.