Cliff lowered his chair until the legs banged against the floor. Denton tried to stretch across the table to read the poster, but failed. He stood up and pulled his chair closer to Virge.
“Neither of us ever landed ourselves in jail,” Cliff reminded Virge with a swift look of caution to Denton. “Any plan you got has to be agreed to by both of us.”
Virge, who had his hands spread over the poster so the others could only see enough of the print to elicit curiosity, shook his head sadly. “That’s the trouble with you two teat suckers. You’re scared of your own shadows. What kind of outlaws do you think you make, always this side of scared, doin’ the easiest jobs and makin’ barely enough to stay alive? I keep tellin’ you that you gotta have a plan, a good one, before you set out. That’s why I spend so much time thinkin’ on one.”
Around a mouthful of crackers Denton mumbled, “You had plenty of years in prison to sit and think up plans. Me and Cliff don’t plan on passin’ the time that way.”
“Well, hell, Denton, I jest think a man ought to have more guts than to hold up a grocer for penny candy.”
Denton put the remaining crackers on the table and started to reach for his gun.
“Come on, Denton, don’t let him get you riled,” Cliff warned, eyeing Virge carefully.
Denton relaxed.
Virge held up the poster and turned it so that the other two could read along as he pointed to the words like a teacher with a class of two—and a slow-witted class at that.
“This here poster says—”
“I can read,” Denton grumbled.
“Well, I cain’t. Let ‘im read it.” Cliff squinted at the printed page.
Virge started over again. “This here poster says—”
“You already said that,” Denton pushed.
“Aw, come on, you two.” Cliff shifted in his seat.
Virge cleared his throat. “This here poster says ‘Ten thousand dollars reward for the return of Annika M. Storm who was abducted from the westbound Union Pacific on February 3, just outside of Cheyenne. She is believed to have been kidnapped by a trapper named Buck Scott, last known to be living somewhere in the Laramie Range.’ Then this here part tells what she looks like”—he pointed to the description, and then ended—“Contact the Cheyenne police, Zach Elliot, Marshal of Busted Heel, or Kase Storm at Buffalo Mountain Ranch.”
Cliff, who had never had much regard for women of any nature, said, “Ten thousand dollars is a hell of a lot of money for one woman.”
“Ten thousand dollars is a hell of a lot of money, period,” Virge reminded him, “but I plan on makin’ three times that amount.”
Denton wiped crumbs off his lips. They landed on his shirtfront and the shelf of his stomach., His narrow, piggy eyes were suspicious. “How?”
Virge smiled an all-knowing smile and let a moment or two pass. “We find the girl, let the right folks know we got her, and tell ‘em they have to up the ante to ten thousand for each of us.”
“And if they don’t?” Cliff’s hair was parted in the middle and greased down. Whenever he was deep in thought, he took to stroking his oily hair perfectly flat, giving him a pointy-headed look. He stroked it now as he waited for Virge to reply.
“They will.”
Denton puffed up like a courting dove. “Cliff wants to know what if they don’t—and the man wants an answer.”
Virge shook his head, disgusted with the two of them. “I said they will. If they’re already giving away a ten-thousand dollar reward, they got more where that came from. We’ll just hold the girl until they pay up.”
“How we gonna find her?”
“Well, I reckon that’s the tough part, and that’s what I been plannin’.” He leaned close and lowered his voice, although there wasn’t another soul around. The cold weather had driven everyone inside for a week and the chances of anyone happening along and finding the once-deserted house occupied were slim to none. Still, Virge spoke in barely a whisper. “I picked this here poster up down at the saloon but I didn’t just hightail it out of there. No, I hung around, see, and listened to what’s bein’ said about this whole thing. Word’s out that Scott lives in a valley called Blue Creek. Seems there’s a mountain pass into it and that pass is snowed in this time of year.”
“So how we gettin’ in?” Denton was staring off in the direction of the kitchen again.
“That’s the beauty of it. We ain’t gettin’ in, but we sure as hell ain’t sittin’ on our asses like the rest of this town waitin’ for the first thaw. There’s gonna be a stampede through that pass the likes of which you ain’t never seen come spring.” He smiled, ready to outline their advantage. “No, we go up there now and camp just this side of the pass. Then, as soon as there’s enough snow melted to get us through, we go in and get the girl. We can hide out and let her kinfolk know we got her and we want ten thousand each.”
Virge handed the poster to Cliff, folded his arms across his chest, and nodded sagely. “How you like them apples?”
“You want us to go up and camp in the snow till the thaw?” Denton’s eyes shifted from one man to another. His expression grew more concerned when he realized Cliff was actually considering the plan.
“What’s a little cold when there’s that much money to be had? ‘Sides, what if you’d a been a miner? You’d be willin’ to camp in the snow to stake a claim.”
“That’s exactly why I never went into minin’,” Denton grumbled.
Cliff rubbed his jaw and stared hard at the words he couldn’t read. “What’da you think, Denton?”
“I think it stinks.”
“What do you think, Cliff?” Virge asked the other man.
“Sure seems like a little bit of discomfort for a whole lot o’ money.”
A smug smile crossed Virgil’s face. “So you’re in?”
“Come on, Denton, it’s worth a try,” Cliff told his friend.
Denton shook his head. “I don’t like it”
“Are you in,” Virge asked Cliff again, “or do I go alone?”
Denton looked at Cliff and nodded. Cliff turned to Virge.
“We’re in.”
14
BABY’S recovery was slow, as slow as the passing of time for the adult occupants of the cabin in Blue Creek Valley. Buck held his cold hands over the low camp fire he’d lit just outside the shed and then bent over the piece he was crafting out of well-tanned buckskin and the finest wolf fur he’d ever cured.
As his niece had slowly gained strength, he had spent more and more time outside, forcing himself to break his bond with the little girl. He drove himself hard, hunting by day and then working over his catch by the weak lamplight in the shed until he was exhausted enough to sleep and not lie awake thinking of Baby, her near drowning, or of Annika Storm.
He hoped that if he left Annika alone with Baby that the woman would come to care enough to take the child down the mountain and keep her, or at least find a good home for her. He left Annika alone for personal reasons, too. Since the crisis with Baby had passed he had more time to think about the moment when he had almost kissed her, and the moment when she had kissed him. Buck attributed the brief exchange to the emotional moment, a combined relief following Baby’s rescue that had sparked the sudden intensity between them.
As he carefully stitched the fur to the underside of the hide, he assured himself that he didn’t intend to get that close to kissing Annika Storm again. The next time he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
So he spent nearly every waking moment trying to ignore her.
But trying to stop thinking about her was another matter entirely.
During the long, cold hours while he set traps up and down the stream, he continually pondered the reasons she might have had for kissing a man like him. The most he could come up with was curiosity. He wondered if maybe she’d never been kissed at all and just wanted the experience. But the more he thought about her lips that were just ripe for the taking, her deep blue eyes, so exotic aga
inst the honeyed tones of her skin, and the thick, waving hair a man could grab by the handfuls and still not hold it all, the more he knew for certain some man had already sampled at least a kiss.
If not, then he guessed there wasn’t a man in Boston with any sense.
As far as Buck Scott could figure, Annika Storm had merely been curious, and there was one thing he couldn’t forget: she would be leaving as soon as the pass was open, and she’d made it abundantly clear that she hadn’t changed her mind on the subject.
Night after night as he worked by a low fire out in the three-sided shed, he convinced himself that no matter what the reason behind her softening toward him, she could never love him. Not a fancy, well-bred lady like Annika Storm.
But she was up to something, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. For the past two days she’d been acting jumpy, fluttering around the cabin in a way she never had before, packing and unpacking her satchel, starting with surprise whenever he walked in the door.
She was acting all too much like a woman with a secret. And for the past two days she’d kept him guessing what it might be.
He held up the piece he’d been working on for two weeks now and found it complete. Deeming it his best effort, he carefully folded it and then wrapped it inside a clean burlap bag and set it beneath a pile of pelts. Pausing to look out at the open sky, Buck watched the stars wink against the midnight backdrop of ebony and said a silent prayer of thanks that the Lord had let Baby live. With the sewing finished, he put on his gloves and decided to check on the mules to see that they hadn’t wandered off where they might become prey for a hungry wolf or coyote. His stomach growled in protest, but he figured he had some time left before he had to go in and get something together for their supper.
EVERYTHING was ready.
Annika took one last look around the cabin and smiled, proud of herself and her efforts. She had swept the floor clean, stacked Baby’s toys in the wooden box, and lined up the chairs and barrels beneath the table. Three places were set for supper and a fresh batch of elk stew bubbled in a cauldron over the fire. She gave the pot a stir and then resettled the lid. The pan of biscuits cooling on the bench looked exactly like the ones Buck usually turned out with such ease. She’d resisted the urge to taste one to be certain.
The surprise meal had been three days in the planning and now that it was about to come off without a hitch, she could hardly wait for Buck to come in.
But there was still one last task to perform.
She turned to the child surrounded by paper dolls seated in the center of the bed. Annika had drawn the figures of a man, woman, and child, on the blank pages in the back of her journal and cut them out. The Sears catalogue had provided the clothes. Baby was still too young to handle the dolls with care that would make them last longer than a few hours, but the respite had provided Annika with the time she needed to fix dinner.
Opening her satchel, she pulled out the gown she had worked over so tediously for the last three days. Black satin merveilleux was not a proper fabric for a child’s dress, but her water-stained cape was all Annika could spare. The full cut of the fashionable covering provided more than enough material for Baby’s new dress.
Annika shook out the little gown, pained with the result of her effort. The hem was crooked, the sleeves uneven, and the neckline collarless, but it was the best she could do under any circumstances. She’d traced the pattern for the dress by using one of Baby’s old gowns, much the way she’d seen her mother do so many times before. She was glad Analisa would never see her handiwork, for it fell far below her mother’s high standards.
For Baby it was a new dress nonetheless, and one decorated with some of her own precious buttons. Mismatched buttons of every shape and color ran in a line from the center of the neckline all the way to the hem. More buttons edged the cuffs of the long sleeves. Annika considered telling Buck to guard the dress well, for long after Baby outgrew it, he would have a tidy sum of money if he ever found a collector interested in the buttons.
“Come here, Baby,” she called, smiling as the toddler backed down off the bed and quickly ran across the room. Annika had not told Baby the dress was to be hers, for then the child would have announced the surprise to Buck. Now it was time to dress Baby and comb her hair before her uncle walked in.
As Annika drew Baby’s old faded dress over her head, she couldn’t help but worry over the sight of the once plump little body that had lost so much weight during her illness. Both she and Buck had tried to tempt the child with food, force-feeding her at first until he finally decided that when Baby was well she would eat to make up for the loss.
So far, Baby had proven him correct, for now the child ate as if she would never get enough food again.
Each time Annika looked at Baby she thought of the thin thread that anchored a soul to a body and rejoiced over the fact that the little girl was still with them. Never again would she take one day of her own life for granted, nor that of anyone else. For Annika, Baby was living proof that miracles existed and that life was indeed precious.
“Let’s put on this new dress,” Annika chatted as she pulled the black satin over Baby’s head, “and then we’ll see about putting on your shoes, too. Would you like that? You haven’t had them on for a long time.”
Baby took to her suggestions immediately, having become accustomed to spending long hours alone with Annika. At first Annika had worried about Buck’s sudden inattention to the child, but then she realized what he was doing. It had become apparent to her the day she had fully recovered that he was purposely stepping out of Baby’s life. And, until three days ago, when she conceived the idea of tonight’s little surprise, Annika hadn’t known how to approach him.
Not that she even had a chance to talk to him before tonight. For two weeks he’d arisen before dawn, set the breakfast out, and was gone before she’d awakened. Ever since her illness he had let her sleep in the big bed with Baby while he remained on the pallet on the floor. He stayed outside until well after dark. Annika thought his lack of proper sleep accounted for his haggard appearance and the dark circles beneath his eyes, but she didn’t know how to approach the subject of trading sleeping arrangements.
Baby shook her out of her reverie. “Buttons on my dress?”
“Yes, honey.” Annika smiled, turning Baby this way and that. Now that the dress was actually on the little girl it looked much better than it had empty. “Those buttons are for you. Do you like the dress?”
Baby nodded, unable to take her eyes off the new gown. She kept running her hands up and down the smooth satin and touching each and every button. “Mine?”
“Yours.” Annika’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of Baby in the elegant creation. Buck Scott could no longer ignore the child or deny his feelings.
“Now,” Annika said, swooping Baby up into her arms and then settling her on a chair beside the fire, “I’m going to comb your hair and tie it up with this piece of satin. Uncle Buck will think you are the prettiest little girl he’s ever seen.”
“Me pretty hair,” Baby agreed.
“Your very pretty hair.” Annika worked quickly, taking care not to pull too hard as she untangled the mass of curls and then tied a wide satin bow atop Baby’s head. The black satin against the golden bouncing curls made a delightful contrast.
Annika gave her a few cutouts to play with at the table while she washed her own face and hands and then combed her hair. She left it long, flowing down her back well past her shoulders, and tied up with a satin band like the one she had made for Baby. She wished she had something new to wear for the occasion, or at least something clean. She’d taken great care to wash out her blouse and hang it by the fire while Buck was outside that day, but there was nothing to be done for her wool suit. She looked in the cracked mirror on the wall and decided that at least she was somewhat more presentable.
Wondering what Buck would think, she felt her face flame with color and turned away from the s
ight of her face in the mirror. More than once she had silently thanked him for staying away from her for the past few days. Whenever he was around it was hard not to be reminded of the day she had kissed him so spontaneously and of how much she’d wanted him to take her into his arms and kiss her back.
Her reaction to Buck was as much a surprise to herself as it must have been to him, but now that she had faced it, Annika wanted to see it through, to see if there was a magic spark between them that had always been missing between her and Richard. She shook her head as she bent over the stew again, absently giving it a stir. Buck Scott was the last man in the world she would have ever thought she would have been attracted to, but that only served to show that one should not judge by appearances.
He was rough around the edges, crude, mean if crossed, and came from a world she barely knew existed before she had been forced to share it—yet she had come to realize he could also be responsible, caring, sensitive, and beneath his rough exterior, undeniably handsome. She wasn’t certain when she had stopped hating this place, but she guessed it was at the same time she began to care about Buck Scott.
The change had come slowly, one step building on another. She thought of the little things he had done for her since the day he’d so rudely commandeered her off the train—the way he’d given her his gloves on the journey, the way he entrusted Baby to her care, the lessons he’d taught her so that she might keep herself alive in the event anything ever happened to him. When she fell ill he had cared for her with the greatest concern. And even though she still knew little about his past, she suspected he had opened up to her more than he had ever done to anyone else in his life.
Annika took a deep breath and tried to still her growing excitement. What happened between them tonight would be up to him to decide. She would merely set the stage and see how their relationship progressed.
BUCK opened the door and stood speechless on the threshold.
“Well, come in before you let in the cold,” Annika called out gaily from where she busied herself before the fire.
Come Spring Page 20
