He released her hand, and placed something around her shoulders. Her body instantly relaxed into the warmth that enveloped her. The smell of rawhide and wood smoke surrounded her - the scent of the man she’d come to know so intimately for the last few hours. How long had it been since they’d left the river?
“What about you? You’re injured,” she protested, looking toward where his face ought to be.
“I’ve had worse,” he said, his tone strained.
“I can hear it in your voice that you’re in pain, Mr. Osborne. A little cold won’t bother me, but what if you get feverish?”
He let out a long breath. “Wait here under these trees, and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
Della reached out her hand, which connected with a firm arm. “And what will you be doing?”
There was a lengthy pause. “Do you only argue with men after dark, or is that a daytime habit of yours, too?”
Della strained her eyes to see, but it was simply too dark to make out his features. Her lips tightened in a firm line. Why did all men have to be bossy and demanding? All her life, she’d had to put up with it from her father. Something was different about Matthew Osborne’s demands, though. His tone didn’t imply complete obedience, more like there was a sense of urgency to his demands.
“I’m not arguing. I’m simply stating a fact, and asking questions.”
He removed her hand from his arm. “All right, then,” he said. “You’re staying here, as I said, and you’re not going to move until I get back, which might not be until daylight.”
“Where are you going?”
Dread washed over her. He couldn’t simply leave her here. On impulse, Della reached for him again.
“You’re safe here, if you do as I say.” He turned away. By the sound of his grunt, he’d swung up on the horse’s back. “I need to look for my brother. Stay under those trees, and don’t leave this spot.”
He spoke quietly, but the force behind his words left a greater impact than if he’d shouted at her. Seconds later, he was gone, and the area around her became eerily quiet. An occasional rustling in the underbrush or in the canopies of the trees were the only sounds to keep her company.
Della held her hands in front of her, feeling her way to the trunk of a nearby tree, and sank to the ground. Her body ached and throbbed, and she shivered. She slipped her arms through the large buckskin jacket, and drew her legs up under her skirts.
A million thoughts raced through her mind. What if he didn’t come back? What if the Pawnee found him . . . or her? She hadn’t even considered that his brother had been with him when he’d been shot.
She closed her eyes, her heart beating wildly in her chest. If she survived through this night, she could survive anything. For now, she had no choice but to do what Matthew Osborne had told her, and remain where she was. She’d figure out what to do later, if he wasn’t back by dawn.
* * *
Della opened her eyes. She squinted into the bright light. Birds chirped loudly among the tree branches overhead. She braced her hand to sit up, and connected with the solid feel of another person. Startled, she yanked her hand away and scrambled to put some distance between them.
Matthew Osborne! He’d come back. He lay motionless on his side, his back turned to her. When had he returned?
She darted a hasty glance around. They were in a heavily wooded area. How had he led them to this spot in the darkness the night before? She inched away from him, to maintain a more proper distance, half expecting her father to charge between the trees and tell her she’d committed a sinful act. Her face flamed. How long had he lain next to her? They were close enough for their bodies to touch not a moment ago.
Della dismissed her thoughts. This was the middle of the wilderness. Her father wasn’t here to judge her, and nothing inappropriate had happened. She’d saved this man’s life yesterday, and he’d surely saved hers. They depended on each other.
Hesitating slightly, she reached her hand out to touch his shoulder. She leaned over him, swiping away some hair from her face that had come loose from her braid. Her cap was long gone. Della nearly laughed. Her father would be livid if he saw her without her head covering, and here she was, in the company of a man, and her hair was exposed.
Matthew Osborne stirred. She pulled her hand away, and straightened. The sheen of moisture on his neck and face in the cool morning air sent a wave of dread through her. Tentatively, she touched the back of her hand to his forehead.
“You’re feverish. I told you last night that might happen,” she whispered softly, scolding the sleeping man. The fact that she’d been right when he’d accused her of being argumentative several hours ago didn’t give her any satisfaction. A fever wasn’t a good sign. Pulling out of the hunting jacket, she was about to place it over him, when his eyes opened, and he rolled to his back.
He grimaced, which turned into a forced smile.
“Lying next to you would make any man feverish,” he said, his voice giving away his discomfort.
Della scrambled to her feet. She stared, wide-eyed, down at the man. He hadn’t been asleep, after all.
“I see you’re not right in the mind, either,” she stammered, to cover up the rush of heat to her insides at his implication.
His smile widened, and his brown eyes traveled over her, slow and deliberate.
“Maybe.”
He groaned when he raised himself to a sitting position. His dark stare met hers. “I brought more willow bark. I’d appreciate it if you’d change my dressing.”
Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the many pouches he wore and his shirt over his head. Della stared, then quickly spun around. Until yesterday, when the Indians had ridden into their camp, she’d never seen a fully-grown man’s exposed torso before. While the leader who had taken her had worn a buckskin shirt, many of the warriors had worn nothing but leather leggings and breechcloths. She’d been too scared at the time to give them much notice.
“Addy, turn around. You can’t tend to my wound with your back to me.”
Addy?
She glanced tentatively over her shoulder. He still sat on the ground, his brows raised and staring up at her in amusement. Della turned to face him.
“My name is Adelle Witmer,” she said.
He nodded. “Like I said. Addy. It suits you better.”
She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Other than her sister calling her Della, no one had ever shortened her name to sound like an endearment.
“Mr. Osborne, I don’t think--”
“Call me Matthew. No need for formalities out here in the woods.”
He reached for one of the pouches he’d pulled from around his neck, and handed it to her. “Please, I’d appreciate it if you’d make a fresh paste and change my dressing. I might just stay alive long enough to get you back to your family.”
Della frowned. “This isn’t funny. If you hadn’t been so stubborn last night, and kept your jacket, you might not be feverish now.”
She took the pouch from him, trying to avoid looking at his corded arms, or broad shoulders, or the olive skin of his lean torso that contrasted sharply with the white strip of her petticoat that she’d wrapped around him. Della’s mouth went dry.
“A fever is to be expected. The willow bark poultice will keep it from getting worse. I’d sew up the hole in my back, but I don’t have a needle, and I can’t reach it.”
“You need a doctor,” she retorted. How could he speak so casually of his wound? Men had died of far lesser injuries.
“I am a doctor.” He grinned widely when she gaped at him. “And I’d appreciate your help so we can leave here, and try and catch up with the wagons.”
Della opened the pouch to avoid having to look at him. What other surprises did this man have in store? One thing was certain. Her chances of getting back to her father and sister were far greater with Matthew Osborne than on her own, or with anyone else.
She ground some of the willow bark
into a powder and mixed it with moist dirt and water from the water bladder Matthew handed her, and made a paste like she’d done the night before.
Della unwound the wrapping from Matthew’s torso, forcing her hands to remain steady. He sat with his back to her, giving her a chance to let her eyes wander freely across the planes of his muscles along either side of his spine. Her pulse quickened, and her fingers tingled to touch him. She lifted her hand to the middle of his back, and held it just inches from his skin. He shifted slightly, and she hastily dropped it again.
Della swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Clearing her throat, she refocused her attention on the bandage.
“Your wound is still bleeding a little,” she said when she pulled the wrapping off and the paste fell away.
“Just put the new poultice over it and wrap it again. When we get to a water source, you’ll have to clean it better.”
Della re-tied the bandage around his torso, and breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done. A warm sensation raced through the tips of her fingers from touching him, and her skin flushed even in the cool morning air. She nearly told him to put his shirt on, but that would only make him aware of how his nudity affected her.
“Did you find your brother?” she asked instead.
Della bit down on her lip just as soon as the words were out. Since Matthew had obviously returned alone, was Zach Osborne dead?
“No.” His answer came in a low, menacing tone.
Della met his eyes. Pain, sorrow, and a fierce anger, brewed in their depths, and she shuddered slightly. She wouldn’t want to get on this man’s bad side.
“As soon as I deliver you to the wagons, I’m coming back to find out what happened to him.” His voice, deadly calm and quiet, left no doubt that he would do exactly what he said.
“If you didn’t have me underfoot, you’d be going after him right now,” she surmised. “Were you and your brother coming after me?” she dared to ask the question that had burned in her mind since she’d found him by the river. “I heard gunshots before I escaped.”
Matthew stared at her. “I’m getting you to safety first. If my brother is alive, he’ll know how to handle himself to make sure he stays alive. If he’s dead . . .”
“It’s because of me,” she whispered, and dropped her gaze to the ground. Silent tears rolled down her face.
A warm, calloused hand reached out and touched her cheek, lifting her face to meet his eyes.
“This isn’t your fault.” His deep stare tore straight to her soul. “What I really want to know is how you managed to run away.” His brows rose, and his lips widened in a forced smile. Della swallowed. His face was so close to hers. He was such a handsome man, rugged, intelligent, kind, and, if needed, fierce and deadly.
“I was left with two guards while the rest of the Indians rode off. When the shots rang out in the distance, one of the men went to investigate. I . . .” She closed her eyes and whispered a quick prayer. “I hit the other man with a rock, and I . . . took his knife, and his horse. I got lost. There was a fork in the stream, and I rode in the wrong direction at first.”
Her tears flowed freely now at the memories of yesterday’s horrible ordeal. She blinked, and looked at the man who sat so close to her. His smile had widened into a grin, and then he laughed.
“What is so amusing this time?” she said, her words loud and heated.
Matthew pulled her head closer, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. She jerked back in surprise.
“You’re an amazing woman, Addy.”
“Why? Because I ran? Because I hurt someone?” Her voice rose, and her body trembled with anger.
Matthew’s face sobered. “I’m sorry. I know this must have been terrifying for you, and everything you’ve done has gone against your nature, but you never lost your wit, and you did what you needed to do to survive. You’re remarkable.”
His tone dropped to a husky whisper with those last words. Della scooted out of his reach. The intensity in his eyes, and in his voice, was too much. What was he doing to her? She was shaken up from all she’d endured and experienced yesterday, and now he was making her feel weak and jumbled up inside with a few simple words and dark stares.
His hand fell away from her cheek. She inhaled deeply to calm her frazzled nerves.
“Will the Pawnee find us?” She asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“All but a few left the area. After they attacked Zach and me, it appears as if they split up. Seems like we surprised them as much as they surprised us. They were, no doubt, on the way back to attack the wagons when we interfered with their plans. They must have decided that a few would head back to their village while the rest would go after the wagons. That’s why I think Zach might be alive.”
Della’s eyes widened. “But if they want to attack the wagons, then my sister, and father, and the rest of the men are in danger.”
Matthew reached for her arm. “Bridger and Sublette took your father and everyone else to safety. If they made it to the mountains, the Pawnee won’t attack. They will be in Lakota territory.”
That dark stare locked on hers again. “We’ll meet up with the wagons. We’ll have to go a different route, and we’ll have to be cautious. The Pawnee won’t like that you outwitted them.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Della didn’t back down from his stare.
His slow smile made her limbs go weak all over again. “I have no doubt you will.”
Chapter Eight
Matthew pulled a short willow stick from one of his pouches, and chewed on the cut end. He needed to brew some tea from the bark, but he couldn’t risk starting a fire. There were still Pawnee in the area. He couldn’t let on to Addy how much pain he was in, or that his fever had him worried. As much as he wanted to push to catch up with the wagons, he needed a day to recover, or he wouldn’t be of any use in getting Addy to safety.
“I don’t think you’re in any condition to travel.” Addy had one hand on her hip. “It’s not worth dying due to stubbornness.”
Matthew grinned. Having this little slip of a woman glaring down at him reminded him of his mother, whenever she told him what to do. His father had often complained about his wife’s fiercely independent streak, and how he had trouble keeping her in line. He’d always said it with a twinkle in his eye, however, and a smile on his face.
Damn, Papa. I think I’m turning into you. I may have found the same kind of woman you did.
It was no secret in the mountains, or to anyone who knew his folks, that his mother had his father completely wrapped around her fingers. They shared a mutual love and respect for each other that he’d rarely seen in other couples back east.
Matthew drowned in Addy’s inquisitive eyes. Was that why he’d never let himself get close to another woman before? He wanted what his parents had, and he’d never come across a woman who could give him that?
Until now.
How can you be so sure, Osborne? You still don’t know anything about her.
Why had she caught his eye right from the start? She was a survivor. She had grit. Matthew’s lips twitched in a smile. Hell. She stood up to him. She wouldn’t crumble when faced with danger or hardships. She’d already proven that.
Addy’s brows rose in a silent question. She didn’t look away when he locked his gaze on hers. Matthew gritted his teeth, and heaved himself off the ground. It was time to stop daydreaming. Time to stop thinking about his overwhelming attraction to this plucky little woman.
Her eyes widened when he stood to his full height. They lingered on his chest for a moment before she raised her head to look up at him. His lips twitched, and an overpowering sensation rushed through him that was both heat, and something that turned every one of his limbs weak.
Beneath the apprehension and slight fear in her eyes, there was also curiosity, determination, and two emotions that heightened those stirrings in him – desire and attra
ction. While she might be aware of her feelings, she was afraid of them. Judging by how her father treated her and kept her under watch at all times, she’d never been alone in the company of a man, and she was most likely confused.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “We’re safe here for a day. By tomorrow, the Pawnee who were left behind to find you will have given up.”
Her forehead wrinkled. She obviously hadn’t expected him to agree with her.
“How do you know we’re safe here, and that they won’t find us?”
“Because right through those trees is the camp from where you escaped yesterday.” Matthew turned slightly and pointed to the west.
“What?” Her eyes widened with panic.
“Lower your voice, Addy.” Matthew stepped closer and reached for her hand. “Sound carries far through the woods. Those warriors are looking for you along the streams heading west. The last thing they will think is that you’ve backtracked and stayed in the area. This is the safest place to be.”
He gave her hand a slight squeeze, the contact sending renewed awareness through him. Was it just the fever, or was this what the stirrings of love felt like? The willow bark he was chewing on had better start working soon and bring his fever down. There was no telling what he might say to her in his feverish state.
When she tugged her hand away, he let go, even if his instinct was to pull her closer. His jaw muscles twitched. His primary focus right now had to be getting her to safety, not his wayward thoughts about a woman who would, most likely, return to her family once they caught up with the wagons.
Her father doesn’t want her back.
Matthew mentally shook his head. Witmer had spoken those words in anger. No father would cast his own daughter away like that. It would have been a convenient way to keep Addy with him, but even though there was attraction in her eyes, she wouldn’t choose him over her father and sister.
Matthew turned away from her. He reached for his shirt on the ground, a grimace on his face when he bent forward. He was used to pain. Growing up in the wilderness, he was no stranger to getting hurt and pushing through the discomfort, but his stirrings for this woman somehow magnified all of his body’s senses. Her eyes quickly dropped away from him when he faced her again.
Yellowstone Homecoming: Yellowstone Romance Series Novella Page 6
