And then it hit her that Peluche was a kind of half-breed too. Not enough of a wolf to live in the wild with wolf kind. And not enough dog to be truly tame. She wondered if LeRoy felt out of place in his world in the same way. The thought made her look at LeRoy in a different light.
Restless energy made her fidget. She washed her dishes, dried them, and put them away. She swept the floor, then folded her clean clothes and put them in her dresser, wondering what else she could do to pass the time and stop thinking about the man sleeping on her floor.
As she laid two chunks of wood on the fire, taking care to be quiet and not wake LeRoy, that twinge of longing speared her while she studied his peaceful face. The glow of the fire lit up his features and spread over his broad, strong shoulders and muscular chest as he lay on his back. Her heartbeat quickened as she guiltily let her eyes drift over his body, taking in every bit of him, her fingers aching to touch him. A violent hunger took hold of her, as if the fire in the hearth sparked a wildfire inside her, burning her with need akin to a sweet pain.
She chastised herself, trying with all her might to snuff out the blaze set loose in her soul, knowing she was only tormenting herself. Why indulge in desires that could never be satisfied? How could she even consider such a longing—with a man full of Injun blood, no less? And no man—not even an Injun—would love her once he learned the truth about her. No matter how hard she’d try to keep her secret, at some point it would come out, and that was a fact she couldn’t get around.
She knew now that she didn’t just want to be touched and held; she wanted to be loved. Loved for who she was. Loved and cherished and respected. The kind of love she’d known all those years ago and had lost in mere minutes on the dusty Overland Trail. And if she couldn’t ever hope to have such love, why bother living? Oh, if only that bear had killed her.
A sob broke out of her chest, followed by a weariness and grief so heavy, it buckled her knees. She crumpled to the floor before the fire and buried her head in her hands, trying not to weep. But the tears spilled down her cheeks as the burdensome years of her lonely life pressed down her shoulders. Her longing cascaded like a waterfall from her heart, emptying into a thirsty sea that never filled.
When her tears finally dried up, her eyes swollen and her throat a lump of rock, she snuffled and wiped her face with her shirtsleeve. Then she stood and froze. To her horror, she saw LeRoy sitting up and staring at her. Rather than shock or scorn, his face shone with concern and kindness.
A gasp strangled in her throat. She knew, in that moment, that he’d sussed out her secret. No man would ever look upon another man with such tenderness.
Panicked, she leapt to her feet. Suddenly her cabin was no longer a calm respite from the storm. It was a trap, and steel teeth had sprung and clamped her tight.
“Dan, wait!” LeRoy held up a hand—as if that could stop her from running.
With fresh tears overflowing her eyes, she ran to the door, snatched her coat off the peg, and tumbled out into the evening, hoping to lose herself in the cold. If she just kept running until she spent all her strength, she could curl up in a mound of snow and let sleep and death take her to the only place of true peace.
LeRoy gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain streaked his gut. He yanked his coat on and laced up his boots, all the while recalling the heartbreaking look on her face. He understood why she ran; he saw it in her eyes. It wasn’t just that he’d caught her crying. She knew he’d figured out that she was a woman. And that terrified her. But why? Not even when face-to-face with that grizzly had she been that afraid. What did she think he’d do to her? It made not a lick of sense.
He threw open the door, the wolf standing alongside him, and looked out as snow fell heavy and thick in the scant evening light the blizzard sought to blot out. Already the drifts lay higher than the stoop, encroaching on the window sashes. The boughs of the pines sagged under the weight of the snow, their needles poking out like bony hands in the storm. A cold wind collared LeRoy’s neck with its icy fingers and inched down his spine as he searched the ground before him and made out a few faint indentations showing where Dan had headed.
He shook his head and pursed his lips. If she’d gone into the woods, her tracks would be easy to find, but she’d headed out into the open field, and he knew it would be like waving his arms in an ocean in the dark, trying to find her out there. How far could she get in this blinding whiteness before she lost her way? Or maybe that’s her intention.
The thought struck his heart with worry. How could she have gotten so far so fast?
“Dan!” He yelled as loud as he could, then yelled again. “Where are you?” His words were swallowed up in silence. He looked at Peluche. “You’re gonna have to help me, girl.” The wolf returned his gaze with a look of concern. A whine came from her throat, and she bounded into the snow and sank to her haunches.
LeRoy thought on what he should take with him, but anything he carried would only bog him down. Peluche waited for him, dark fur against stark white, questioning him.
“Find Dan. Go git ’er,” he commanded, pointing off across the barren wasteland flanking the woods. But the wolf whined louder and stood her ground, snow coating her fur like frosting.
LeRoy huffed and pulled his gloves out his pocket, then squirmed them on over his cold, stiff fingers. He fastened the top buttons of his coat and tucked his chin into his neck. His hat he squashed down over his half-frozen ears. Irritation built to anger as he took three strides into the snow and sank to his waist in the powder. Seemed like Dan would have snowshoes someplace, but LeRoy had no time to search for them. In this weather, a body could freeze to death inside of an hour, even less. LeRoy was running out of time before he even started.
Where would she have gone? There was no way to tell, for he reckoned she’d just headed out aimless, without any destination in mind. But he at least knew the general direction, and so he plowed through the drifts with his arms and legs, moving excruciatingly slow, making little progress as precious minutes slipped by. In little time, he’d lost most of the feeling in his legs, but he pushed onward, his face a block of ice and his hands numb.
Despite that, his gut burned with pain as his stitches tore from his flesh. He knew all that fine stitch-work Dan had done on him was now a wasted effort. Warm blood oozed and stuck his shirt to his skin, but there was nothing for it. He had to press on.
Every few steps, he glanced back. The wolf followed in his tracks, and behind her, snow steadily filled his path, erasing where he’d come from. The light from the cabin was barely detectable through the flurries and mist, and not a trace of smoke could be smelled on the air. He hoped the wolf would lead him back if he couldn’t find his way. Snow thwarted even the best of trackers, but he doubted wolves ever got lost. Peluche could probably smell that venison stew even from here.
LeRoy lost track of time. Ten minutes? Twenty? He stopped to catch his breath, sweat pouring down his neck and freezing around his ears. Spurts of steam blew out his mouth as he stood, arms wrapped around his waist, trying to keep from doubling over and collapsing to the ground. Was this how he’d die? Would someone find their bodies in the spring thaw? He had no idea how soon night would descend, but once it did, there’d be no hope left—for either him or Dan. He had no sense at all of where he was. He could see nothing but snow and white everywhere he turned. He’d lost the tree line ages ago. He knew that huge sugar pine had to be somewhere near—where that branch had fallen on Dan, and where the bear lay dead. But even that tree had been swallowed up in the storm.
He grunted at the irony of it. To die from snow after besting a grizzly. LeRoy turned in a circle, squinting against the wind that cut sharply into his eyeballs. Tears squeezed out the sides of his eyes. He pushed down frustration and feelings of failure. He would not quit or give up hope. She had to be out here somewhere. But this was beyond his ability. He had to concede he was lost, and had lost her. He sent up a prayer, hoping it would pierce through the thick bat
ting of clouds and reach heaven.
He swallowed back the despair seeking to engulf him like another blizzard. The wolf kept up her keening. LeRoy’s half-numb mind wandered as he closed his eyes. He hummed a lullaby his ma used to sing to him—a Cheyenne song about the seasons—and LeRoy imagined sitting on the bank of the South Platte, warm summer sun beating down on his head. His horse neighed and snorted as it grazed the tall bunchgrass, and bright-orange dragonflies lazily floated on the air. The hum of summer warmed his soul as his heartbeat slowed and his pulse wound down like an old clock.
He no longer felt the cold sting of wind on his face, and the tingling fled from his limbs. His eyelids lay like lead weights on his eyes, and sleep tickled his mind. A warning from afar told him to stay awake, to shake off his stupor, but he waved it away. Soon, soon, he whispered in his head. He would soon walk the warm grassy hills, fragrant with wildflowers, to the path that led to Seana. He’d tried. He’d done his best. But it wasn’t good enough to keep both feet in this world. Ma’heo’o would welcome him into the spirit world with open arms.
Something tugged hard on his pants leg, nearly toppling him. LeRoy forced his eyes open and tried to focus. He looked down and saw the wolf, her teeth clamped onto his pants, yanking hard and growling. LeRoy chuckled weakly and mindlessly stroked the wolf’s plush head. Peluche then sank her teeth into LeRoy’s leg.
“Yeow!” LeRoy jerked and straightened, his eyes wide. His mind cleared, and all his senses jolted. Alert and listening, LeRoy saw that the snow had stopped falling. The mountain lay in white slumber, buried deep. He stood in an ocean of snow that came to his chest and watched as the thick wad of dark cotton clouds above shredded as if the Creator’s hands were pulling them apart and scattering them to the four winds. Twilight peeked through the rents in the sky, and a few stars shimmered.
LeRoy slapped his hands against his sides, getting the blood moving again. Soon his numb fingers throbbed with pain as they tingled and feeling returned. LeRoy then stomped his feet and got his legs working. Presently, the sky opened up wide, exposing the half-moon, and LeRoy wondered when it had become night.
Peluche stiffened and craned her neck, her nose up and sniffing the air. LeRoy looked in the direction she faced. There, across the snow-blanketed meadow, an exposed rock peeked out of the snowdrifts. LeRoy’s heart hammered.
That wasn’t a rock. It was Dan.
His legs screamed as he waded through the snow to reach her. His gut throbbed anew with brutal pain, but he took one determined step after another until he finally made it to her side.
She was facedown in the snow, and LeRoy rolled her over. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes were crusted with ice. He felt for a pulse at her neck and blew out a relieved breath when he found it. Faint and thready, but her heart was still beating. She was alive—barely.
But how would he get her back? And where was the cabin? He turned around and spotted it—a twinkle of firelight through a window. A beacon to lead him back to her cabin. The weight lifted off his heart.
His strength was spent, but the clear sky infused him with hope and a cache of vigor that he drew upon as if it were one of his ma’s potions. He sent up a prayer of gratitude for being guided to the right spot, for Dan being alive, for the clear sky. Maybe he would meet Ma’heo’o another day.
He turned back to Dan, feeling a flood of tenderness spill from his heart. Her cries had woken him in the cabin, and seeing her so aggrieved had wrenched his heart. He hadn’t meant to stare at her, but at the time, he couldn’t peel his eyes from her. The force of his feelings had stunned him, for he had never felt such strong emotion for a woman. Protectiveness, yes. The urge to comfort, surely. But it was more than that. It was longing. And he didn’t like the grip it had on him.
He reached down and lifted Dan into his arms. Even with her thick coat, she felt light and manageable, like a newborn foal. He took a few wobbly steps and shifted her until he found his balance. He repositioned her arm so that it hung loosely around his neck, and he pulled her close, letting her cold cheek lay against his chest. Even now, out here in the snow, with exhaustion threatening to drown him, she felt wonderful in his arms.
He slid a lock of her hair behind her ear and looked at her pale lips and pink cheeks. It took all his resolve not to kiss her. He stroked her face and let his gloved palm rest against her head, fighting the flood of feelings coursing through his blood. Fighting his need, his wanting, his longing.
He had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life. Some had thrown themselves at him. None had ever smacked him with the butt of a rifle, although he suspected a few may have wanted to do so. But this one . . . her beauty was not just evidenced by her sweet facial features and womanly shape. Her competence and strength of spirit was unmatched—except, perhaps, by his ma’s.
He suddenly remembered something his pa told him, as he trudged one small step after the other toward the cabin. LeRoy had once asked him why he’d married Ma, and the answer his pa gave him had perplexed him. He thought his pa would have told him it was because he loved her. But that’s not what he said, LeRoy now recalled. “Because she’s my strength and my inspiration to live my life with courage. To face whatever may come—for good or ill.”
LeRoy mulled those words in his head as he walked, Peluche trotting quietly behind him. His father had been a strong man. Strong not just in body but in determination. He’d built his prosperous ranch out of nothing—just a love for horses—but it was more than that. He faced hatred and threats and hardship in marrying his ma. He threw aside his fear because he loved her. Because her strength gave him strength.
He admired Dan’s strength of will, but it was clear she’d given up on life, on hope. Why? Why had she run from the cabin to die? They’d killed the bear; she was out of danger. Was she worried about having enough food for winter? If so, he’d go down to Whitcomb’s, with or without her, and bring up more than enough food to get her through till spring.
LeRoy’s heart ached thinking about her alone all winter in her cabin. If she was so unhappy living up here, why didn’t she come down off the mountain? What secret was she keeping? No woman in her right mind would live like this. Was she afraid? How could she be, with courage like that?
This woman in his arms was a mystery—but one he was now determined to suss out. Yet, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to pry it out of her. She’d have to open up willingly, in her own good time. And that will take as long as it takes.
No matter, he told hisself with a wry grin, looking at the pile-up of snow. Time was something he and this woman would have plenty of together. Unhindered, uninterrupted time.
He frowned. So long as I can keep her from running off again.
Chapter 11
In the faint glow of the fire’s embers, Gennie made out a shape hunched in Old Bill’s chair. She startled in the dark, confused and disoriented, until she realized she wasn’t dreaming. That wasn’t Bill in his chair, and no loud, ugly snores came out of the mouth of the man sleeping there, his head lolling to the side.
She jerked and sat up, then looked around her. One of the pillows from her bed lay on the rug behind her, and the threadbare counterpane was draped over her legs. She was still in the clothes she’d worn earlier—minus her coat—but her boots were no longer on her stockinged feet. A moan slipped out as she moved around. Every muscle ached and every bone felt bruised from that tree branch that had crushed her.
Then she remembered rushing out of the cabin, headlong into that storm. Wanting to die.
A shudder rippled through her, and she pulled the blanket tight around her in the cool room. She could just make out the shape of her wolf sprawled out on the floor next to LeRoy.
The thought hit her hard. He must’ve run out after me. Why? And how had he found her? With all that snow, it would have been like looking for a needle in a sack of grain. The realization that this half-breed had again risked his life to save her sank like a rock in her stomach. She imagined him carrying her t
hrough the high snowdrifts in the freezing wind with those stitches in his gut. He’d hardly been able to walk after that bear’s attack.
She stared at LeRoy. Who was this man? She’d heard bedtime stories when young of valiant heroes who risked all to save the princess from a fearsome dragon, but she never imagined she’d encounter such a hero—and not up here on the mountain. The mountain men she’d met over the years were selfish and arrogant. They’d no sooner rescue a woman in danger than a rat floating downriver.
This man was either a complete fool or . . . or what? He completely befuddled her.
And then she remembered the look on his face as she sat by the fire weeping. He knows. Oh, Lord, he knows . . .
A surge of panic set her on her feet, and all her thoughts turned to running again. But as she stared at the blackness out the window and listened to the wind moan, she collapsed back to the rug. She had no strength left for running. For anything. Not even for dying. She never thought dying would be such difficult work.
The chair creaked, and she turned her head. Her sudden movement had woken LeRoy. And Peluche. Her wolf stretched and padded over to her, then plopped on the floor beside her. Gennie rubbed the animal’s head, looking out from under her lashes at LeRoy as he reached for the oil lantern on the table and lit the wick with a twig he’d poked into the glowing embers. He moved silently, not meeting her eyes, and Gennie wondered what he was thinking.
A twinge of fear rattled her as she considered what he might try to do to her. She swiveled and spotted her rifles leaning up against the wall by the door. Fool, If he meant to harm you, he wouldn’t’ve saved you. Unless he was just biding his time. Her heart warred within her, reminding her he was an Injun and a man—neither of which could ever be trusted. But he’d proved himself more than trustworthy. He’d shown her kindness and respect—something she hadn’t had since . . . since before . . .
Wild Secret, Wild Longing: A Sweet Historical Western Romance Novella (The Front Range Series Book 3) Page 9
