by Lily Graison
The past several months came crashing down on her all at once and tears she’d promised never to shed again filled her eyes. She’d made so many foolish mistakes and they cost her everything. Blinking to erase the tears didn’t work. It only caused them to slide down her cheeks. Her throat felt tight. It burned, a dull ache forming as every terrifying ordeal she’s had to endure caught up with her. She held it together until Gideon touched her. That one small brush of his finger on the tears falling down her cheek was all it took for all the loss and pain and gut-wrenching fear to seize hold and steal her breath. Every horrifying moment since Thomas got sick flashed in her mind’s eye and she started shaking, crying uncontrollably until her body felt hollow, her limbs numb, her head throbbing. She snuffled and tried to catch her breath, the scent of woodsmoke and gun oil thick and comforting.
She opened her eyes to darkness and warmth, her face once again pressed against Gideon’s chest, his arms like metal bands around her body. He was stroking her hair, soft, unintelligible words whispered against the top of her head and little by little she calmed. The tears dried up, the fear swallowed by the scent and feel of him pressed so tightly against her and she flexed her fingers, bunching the material of his shirt into her fists and pressed even closer. She shouldn’t let him hold her like this—shouldn’t be sleeping next to him at all, but if he was willing to provide comfort to her, she was going to accept it regardless of how inappropriate it was. She wanted someone else to shoulder the burdens she felt, even if it was only for one night, so she’d give them to him and let him smooth all her troubles away until she felt nothing but blissfully numb and taken care of because she knew, as soon as the sun rose, her problems would fall back on her shoulders once more whether Gideon was there or not.
Chapter 6
They were almost there. Gideon could see the cabin from the hill they stood on. He stopped so Victoria could catch up.
Little had been spoken between them since they woke. He didn’t know what to say to make her feel better and the hollow look in her eyes let him know the heartache she felt the night before still weighed heavy on her mind. She was breathing heavily when she stopped beside him and he gave her a few moments to catch her breath. “The cabin isn’t far,” he said. “It’s just down the next hill. Can you see it?”
She lowered her head and squinted. “No. I see nothing but trees and snow.”
“Follow the path of the stream. The cabin is just under that cluster of trees on the right-hand side.”
Long minutes passed before she straightened and smile. “I see it.” She adjusted the strap of the bag she carried slung across her chest. “It looks bigger than the last one.”
“It is. That’s pretty much home for me except for the coldest months of winter.” He let her rest a few more minutes and motioned down the hill with a nod of his head. “Let’s get a move on. We still have an hours worth of walking to do.”
She followed behind as always, the walking stick he’d given her helping her climb down the inclines they’d had to travel the past few days. As badly as he wanted to get her to town, resting and eating his fill inside the comfort of his own home was too blissful to pass up. He was tired. His body ached from having to sleep so many nights on the frozen ground and being so close to Victoria every night got harder as well. Having soft feelings for her wasn’t something he wanted but after last night he wasn’t sure he’d be able to avoid it much longer and frankly, it scared the hell out of him. She’d damn near broke his heart last night. The sound of her anguish sounded familiar. He’d felt it too once upon a time and never wanted to relive it. It’s why he hadn’t pressed her for the story. There was no need to dredge up painful memories and her obvious distress at whatever she’d gone through was eating her alive. He’d been sorry he’d asked how she ended up here. He didn’t mean for his question to bring up so much pain. But he wasn’t sorry her pain left her clinging to him as if he’d get away if she didn’t hold on. He could still feel her wet tears soaking his skin as they drenched his shirt. The smell of her hair, the soft texture of it under his fingers felt like silk and with her soft curves pressed so intimately against him he’d had to force his mind to other things to keep his body from reacting to her nearness.
And now he’d be shacked up with her until they’d rested enough to make the remaining journey down the mountain.
He slipped and caught himself before falling. The hill was slick here. Shadows hung heavy, the sun barely filtering through the trees. It caused the snow to ice over in places. He fell twice more and ended up having to help Victoria so she didn’t break her neck trying to dodge trees and slick slopes.
The rocky outcropping on their left gave way to a solid wall of jutting ledges. The mountain was covered in vegetation of some kind but every so often, the hills were sheer drop-offs of solid rock.
“What is that noise?”
Gideon held her hand as he helped her. “Silver Falls is not too far from here.”
“I didn’t think we were close to town yet.”
“We’re not. Silver Falls is the name of a waterfall. It’s where the town gets its name.”
They made it to the bottom of the hill and she smiled in thanks, then let his hand go. They walked in silence for several long minutes before she asked, “Will we be anywhere near the waterfall when we continue down the mountain?”
He nodded. “We’ll walk right past it.”
She smiled so brightly at him his heart gave a thump against his ribcage so powerful it nearly took his breath. She really was quite beautiful when she smiled.
“I’ve never seen a waterfall,” she said. “Well, not in person I haven’t. The only one I’ve seen was in a photograph. My father and mother visited Niagara Falls four summers ago but left me behind due to my studies. Father promised to book me a holiday there as a honeymoon gift when I wed but that never happened.”
“I’ve seen a photograph of Niagara. Silver Falls isn’t nearly as grand as that.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter how grand it is. I’m sure it will still be a delight to see.”
They made it to the bottom of the hill, the cabin just up the trail and seen clearly through the trees. The rock cliffs on their left gave way to thickly packed dirt, the hill still lined with trees. The stream cut through the hill here and trickled through the rocks and wound around the next rise, the cabin nestled among the thicket of pines. In another twenty minutes, he’d have his feet propped up next to a warm fire, his belly full of fresh meat and a warm bed waiting to ease his stiff muscles.
He frowned when he realized that same bed was the only one in the cabin. It should go to Victoria instead of himself. He and Graham always flipped a coin for it, the other sleeping on a pallet in front of the fireplace, but he couldn’t do that with Victoria. He’d have to bunk on the floor again.
The noise in the forest grew eerily quiet. The few birds he’d heard singing were now silent, the wind blowing through the trees the only sound he heard other than their footsteps crunching in the snow. He slowed his steps, listening for whatever it was that felt off when Victoria gasped behind him and yelled, “Gideon!” He turned his head, his gaze falling on a blur of gold coming toward him through the trees seconds before she screamed.
They were a blur of movement. The mountain lion that jumped from the cliff above colliding with Gideon had them both sailing toward the rocky banks of the stream. Victoria stopped screaming when her lungs were depleted of air, her head light as she became dizzy.
The creature came out of nowhere. She wasn’t even sure how she saw it she’d been so deep in thought but the small warning had been enough to at least let Gideon brace himself for the impact. The straps of the heavy pack he wore on his back snapped as he hit the ground. Gideon yelled as the mountain lion took a swing at him, the guttural cry the big cat let out enough to raise every hair on her body.
They rolled, Gideon’s hands locked around the things neck, the cords in his throat stretched tight as he fought to keep its ma
w of snapping teeth from his face. They rolled away from the bank and back into the snow. Victoria’s heart was racing, her breath panted out as she watched. She wasn’t sure what to do. Fear kept her frozen in place as thoughts of if he died, where would that leave her? If the mountain lion didn’t kill her as well she’d never survive on the mountain alone and she had no idea which way to go to reach town.
Seeing Gideon’s pack, she saw the rifle he kept strapped there and raced to it, untied and shouldered the heavy gun and aimed it at the mountain lion. Sweat broke out on her brow. Fear closed her throat, her breaths harsh as she watched them. What if she hit Gideon by mistake? She thumbed back the hammer, closed her eyes, and said a quick prayer. When Gideon yelled again, her back grew stiff with determination. The animal reared and took another swipe at him, his claws coming away coated in blood.
Victoria pulled the trigger.
The shot went wild but it was enough. The mountain lion let out another screeching roar and darted across the stream and into the trees. Victoria stared at him until she could no longer see him, then lowered the barrel of the rifle and tried to calm her breathing. Gideon lay perfectly still on the ground, his face turned away from her. He wasn’t moving.
“Gideon?” A dull ringing in her ears left her dazed. She crossed the distance between them and dropped to her knees, laying the gun close enough to reach if she needed it again. “Gideon? Can you hear me?”
She turned his head so she could see his face. He blinked sleepily, the look in his eyes hazy and dull and her throat grew tight. Blood covered the right side of his face, trickling down from his hairline bright red and alarming against his skin. The front of his coat was open. She reached forward to pull it shut, then gasped. His chest looked like nothing but torn meat, the material from his shirt shredded. “Oh my goodness, Gideon.” Her heart started racing.
His eyes were closed when she looked back at his face and fear made it hard to breathe. She patted his cheek and blinked back the tears trying to burn their way free from her eyes and tried not to panic. “Gideon!” She swallowed the scream trying to crawl up her throat and raised her head, searching for help she knew wasn’t there. The forest was quiet. Not a sound could be heard except for the trickle of the stream as it meandered over rocks and fallen limbs. She sat up and searched for the cabin, exhaling the breath she’d been holding when she spotted it. The windows were dark, the chimney void of smoke. No one was there. She was alone again.
Gideon’s face had grown pale. Blood still seeped from the wound on his head and chest, and visions of Thomas lying in the back of the wagon, his eyes growing more unfocused as the days progressed, filled her head. She’d known nothing of Thomas’s wound. If she had, she might have been able to save him from the infection that set in and the fever that burned through his body.
She searched the cliff and surrounding vegetation. The mountain lion was nowhere to be seen but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still out there watching them. They had to get out of the open. She looked toward the cabin again. Should she carry their things there and come back for Gideon? Or get him to the cabin first and come back for their things? She gnawed her lip thinking, then shook her head. “No. I can’t do that.” She looked toward the trees again. She didn’t see the mountain lion but she knew he had to still be there. She couldn’t chance leaving Gideon or coming back for their things.
She sat up on her knees and slung her bag to her side so the strap didn’t cut into her neck and reached for Gideon’s large pack. One of the straps was broken. She tied them together best she could and secured the gun into the side like he’d had it, tying it down tight. She shouldered the entire thing once finished, slipping the straps over her shoulders and let it rest against her back like Gideon had done. The weight was more than she expected. How had he carried this for so long?
The afternoon sun slid behind the trees, the area they sat covered in thick shadows. She stood and stepped toward Gideon’s head, leaned down, and grabbed hold of him underneath his arms and tugged—then lost her hold and fell backward to land on her bottom. She winced and stood back up. He’d barely moved an inch. He was heavier than he looked.
She glanced behind her to the cabin again and blew out a breath. “You can do this, Victoria Jane. Help isn’t coming. Gideon will die out here if you don’t do this.”
Blood still leaked from his wounds and her heart started racing at the implications. He could die if she didn’t stop the bleeding soon. Reaching for him again, she tugged his shoulders off the ground and dug her fingers into the heavy fur matting of his coat underneath his arms. Her back strained as she took a step backward and pulled him with her. He slid a few inches, his booted feet leaving a small trail in the snow.
She inhaled a deep breath and pulled, every muscle in her body straining as she slowly dragged him to the cabin. Sweat poured down her face, her back aching to the point she had to stop several times. They’d only moved a few feet and she was exhausted. Blood raced through her veins and let her know she was truly alive. Giving Gideon’s body another hard tug, she hoped that mountain lion wasn’t smart enough to follow the trail they were leaving in the snow.
Reaching the cabin only threw another obstacle in her way. The three steps leading up to the small porch might as well have been another mountain. She laid Gideon on the ground again and slung his pack from her back and slipped her own off, letting them both hit the ground without a care. She untied Gideon’s rifle and trudged up the steps. As Gideon had done at the little shack they’d stayed in, she shouldered the gun and opened the door, stepping back out of the way in case anything came running out. Nothing did.
She peeked inside. It was dark and cold and smelled a bit musty but there weren’t any surprises waiting inside. She stepped over the threshold, barely giving the room a glance before laying the rifle down on a table that sat near the door and running back outside. She carried the packs in and tossed them to the floor and spent the next ten minutes dragging Gideon up the steps, one at a time, and through the door.
The left-hand wall held one door, and a large fireplace took up most of the remaining wall. She pulled Gideon across the room and laid him down outside the door, then opened it. A bedroom, as she suspected. She sighed in relief, then looked at the bed. It was large enough for two people to sleep in but sat high up off the ground. She’d never be able to lift Gideon off the floor that high or get him onto it.
She turned back to the sitting room and looked around the space. There was nothing there but two cushioned chairs facing the fireplace, a small round table, and a large rug sitting between them and the hearth. The fireplace itself was clean of any ashes and a box near the wall held a stack of dried wood. She glanced at Gideon, then the rug sitting in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to do.
Building a fire was the first order of business. She stacked the wood in the fireplace as she’d seen him do so many times and found a box of wooden matches on the mantel. She lit the fire and waited until it caught good before standing and looking for the lamps. She lit every one she saw and it didn’t take long for a warm amber glow to fill the cabin.
Heading back into the bedroom, she spotted a large chest at the foot of the bed. A quick search later, her arms were loaded with blankets she carried back to the sitting room to make a soft pallet in front of the fire. When finished, she stood to her full height, stretched out her back muscles and sighed. It was going to be a long evening.
Dragging Gideon through the snow and up the steps had been hard enough. Getting his coat off was downright frustrating. She pushed against his arm to tip him over on his side and winced when he groaned. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she pulled his arm free of the sleeve, turned him to his other side, and did the same. When the coat was off, she grabbed him under his arms again and dragged him to the pallet, straightening the blankets underneath him when they rolled up under his weight.
A search of the kitchen produced a large pot big enough to boil water. Pulling on the ha
ndle on the water pump several times did nothing. Not a single drop of water spilled. Victoria carried the pot outside to fill with snow and spent long minutes heating it near the fire for clean water to bathe his wounds with. Palming the knife she found in the kitchen, she grabbed the pot of warm water, knelt by his side and blew out a tired breath.
She cut away Gideon’s ruined shirt and pulled it out from under him. Claw marks scored his body from collarbone to hip, the flesh hanging open on his chest and stomach in a few places. Those gaping pieces of skin would need to be stitched. Luckily the rest wasn’t so bad. It looked worse than it was. She glanced down the line of his body. His pants were shredded on his right side, blood spotting his trouser leg. Had the animal gotten him there as well? She cut away enough of the trouser leg to see. His hip and leg were bleeding. The wound wasn’t as deep as the one on his chest and stomach was but deep enough to need to be cleaned properly.
Another glance at his face showed he was still out and she worried something more was wrong with him than just the cuts. Should he still be unconscious? Why was he? Was the injury to his head more serious than just a break in the skin?
She searched his entire head for blood or other wounds and froze when she felt a huge knot on the back of his head. Her fingers came away wet with blood when she lowered his head back to the floor. Fear skated along her nerves. His chest still rose and fell so he was still breathing without trouble but the head wound worried her.
“He’s fine,” she said to no one. “Just get him cleaned, the deepest wounds stitched and he’ll wake up.” She nodded and went to work, cutting his trouser leg down the center all the way to his ankle. She removed his boots and socks and glanced up the length of him. His groin area was still covered and she wondered if she could keep his trousers on him and just keep the injured leg uncovered. The material on his left leg was crusted in dried blood. He might not be injured on that side of his body but the trousers would need to come off eventually.
