Love So Deep

by Kathleen Ball

  “It’s all going to be okay,” he reassured her.

  He was right, she’d overreacted. She opened the door and went into the warm snug cabin. She had a lot to think about and keeping her emotions to herself would probably occupy her time. It was going to be torture living with the two males, knowing she loved them but they didn’t love her back. She walked to the bed, sat down, bowed her head and prayed.

  Chapter Six

  Patrick wished he didn’t know how much Samantha cared about him. She tried to avoid any touching, in depth conversations, or lingering glances. He never would have imagined how much it hurt. The last few weeks he’d had to remind himself it was for the best, time after time. The urge to crush her to him and take the sadness away from her grew daily.

  Brian didn’t seem too affected by Samantha’s withdrawal. He didn’t even seem to notice. He was a good child who’d had a hard life. Patrick didn’t think he meant to hurt her. He helped around the place and continued his reading. Samantha was very stiff around him. The natural affection she’d had disappeared.

  Sitting in front of the big fireplace repairing a frayed bridle, he felt her gaze on him. He wasn’t sure if he should look at her or not. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he lifted his gaze to hers. He arched his eyebrow at her continued stare.

  “Do you happen to know the date? I’m afraid I’ve lost track.”

  “It’s December as near as I can tell.”

  “What about Christmas?”

  “What about it?”

  “I’m wondering if we missed it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Makes no difference to me and I doubt Brian has ever celebrated it.”

  She gave him a sad smile and a curt nod before she turned from him.

  He could make up a date to make her happy but somehow it seemed wrong. “I’ll go hunting tomorrow and see what I can find. We can have a big dinner if it would make ya happy.”

  She stilled for a long time and he wondered what she was thinking. Finally she turned. “Thank you. It really doesn’t matter what day we celebrate. We do have a bit of sugar I could make sugar candy.” Her eyes brightened and her cheeks turned pink.

  His heart jumped and he inwardly cursed. He couldn’t find an even keel with the woman. He was either ignoring her or mooning over her like an ignorant boy. He almost groaned aloud. She looked happy and somehow her happiness linked to his. At least he’d be gone a lot of the day tomorrow hunting. Maybe a bit of fresh air could help him keep his mind off her soft pink lips. “Sugar candy sounds nice. I can’t remember the last time I had candy.”

  “It’ll make the day special.” She held his gaze until he couldn’t stand looking and not touching.

  “What do you think, Brian?”

  “I’ve never had candy. It’s real good ain’t it?” He smiled at Samantha and she smiled back. At least they were getting along better. “Ain’t you going to say ain’t ain’t a word?”

  She threw the piece of cloth she’d been holding at him and he flinched. His face turned red as he bent to retrieve the towel and he handed it back to her.

  “Brian, no one is going to hurt you again, least of all me.” Her voice was sweet and soft.

  “You won’t mean to, but you will. One day you’ll leave me behind somewhere. Maybe here, maybe the orphanage. You’ll be sad but grownups always do what is best. They make promises and break them.”

  There was a lot of truth in Brian’s words but Patrick didn’t know what to say. More than likely Brian would be left in an orphanage, leaving them broken hearted. He wished he had some pull, or respect even, in town, but he was an outcast. His heart ached. Keeping them warm, dry and fed was the best he could do.

  “We don’t need to talk about it now,” Samantha said. She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’re going to have Christmas tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Brian scoffed. “I suppose Santa will be arriving tonight.”

  Her brow furrowed as though she hadn’t thought about presents. “Maybe—”

  “Save it. I know he doesn’t exist, at least not for children like me.” He plopped down on a chair and frowned.

  Patrick didn’t know what to say but Samantha’s pleading gaze got to him. “No, Brian, ya are good. Ya do a man’s work without complaint. It’s just, well I don’t know. Santa Claus never came to leave me presents either. I did hear tell he has a time of it trying to get to the children in the west. I’m looking forward to the candy. It’ll be a big treat for me.”

  He must have got it right because Samantha bestowed a beautiful smile on him.

  “The reason for Christmas isn’t only presents. It’s the celebration of the birth of Jesus. I don’t know if you know much about him—”

  “I don’t want to hear about him.”

  “That’s fine. Maybe one day you will.”

  Patrick raised his eyebrows. Most times people tried to jam their religion down his throat. There were many times helpful citizens thought heathens just needed saving. Little did they know his father was a very religious man. Samantha’s answer was a breath of fresh air and it warmed him.

  He hadn’t realized he was staring at her until she blushed a deep red. He quickly turned away. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. He’d spend the morning outside alone.

  Rustling noises disturbed Samantha’s sleep and relief swept through her when she found it was Patrick getting something from under the bed. It probably was some hunting thing. Turning over, she went back to sleep.

  The next time she woke, it was morning. She got up, dressed quickly, and rebraided her hair. Next, she inched around Patrick and put a pot of melted snow on the fire to warm. His eyes opened and he smiled. Why did he have to look so ruggedly handsome?

  “Good morning. Did ya sleep well?” he asked as he sat up and stretched. His magnificent chest came into view and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “I don’t know. I think we might have mice.”

  His smile faded. “Why do ya think that?”

  “I heard rustling under the bed last night.” She couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up.

  He nodded. “Ah, yes I believe I heard it too.” He grabbed more logs and put them on the fire.

  “Did Santa come?” The wistfulness in Brian’s voice hurt. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned Christmas at all.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “As a matter of fact, I see something on the table. Why don’t you see what it is?” Patrick’s nod reassured her.

  Brian flew out of bed and ran to the table. “Oh boy! Sam, come look.”

  She flashed Patrick a grateful smile and went to Brian’s side. “A knife?”

  “Yes, and look it has a leather sheath and everything. Santa didn’t forget me after all.” Brian’s exuberance filled the house.

  “This is wonderful.” She wanted to ask who on earth gives a child a knife but she couldn’t bring herself to spoil Brian’s fun.

  Patrick pulled a chair out and sat at the table. “Show me.”

  Brian excitedly displayed his new treasure. They talked about using the knife and how to be careful. Brian seemed to know many of the things Patrick was explaining. Maybe the knife wasn’t such a bad idea at all. She went about her morning routine of making tea and breakfast and before she knew it, Patrick was out the door. His eagerness to be away seemed to grow each day.

  It was understandable and she tried to tell herself it was for the best but there were times when it battered her heart. It struck her it was her first Christmas without her parents and tears threatened. Taking a deep breath, she turned and smiled at Brian. “Let’s get to the candy.”

  “Oh, boy!”

  It was such an easy thing to do, but sugar was too dear to make candy any other time. She placed the big pot over the fire and added snow and when it heated, she added the sugar. “Here Brian take this pan and pack it with clean snow. I’ll pour the sugar over it and it will harden into candy.” She barely had the last word out be
fore he went flying out the door.

  Arctic air hit her and she shook her head. Brian forgot to close the door but he reappeared before she had a chance to get up. “Is this enough?”

  It was amazing the difference a little excitement made. There was no brooding, or casts of doubt today. “It certainly is. Set it on the table and I’ll pour this into ribbons. It will harden and turn into candy.”

  “When will it be ready?”

  She laughed. “Probably right before Patrick gets back.”

  “We don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “Same for the candy, you just have to let it set.”

  Brian sat, grabbed a stick and started to whittle it with his knife as Patrick had done several times. She watched intently, her stomach drawn tight, waiting for him to cut himself. After a time she relaxed. He seemed to know what he was doing.

  They spent the morning in a happy quiet, waiting for Patrick and waiting for the candy.

  A couple hours later, they quickly broke up the long ribbons and she waited for Brian to pop a piece into his mouth. When he did, she realized his happiness was her happiness. Sheer joy crossed his face and he gave her the biggest smile ever.

  “I take it you like it.”

  “I sure do! Maybe this Christmas stuff is a good idea.”

  The door opened and Patrick came in, handed her venison wrapped in cloth and mussed Brian’s hair with his hand. The gesture was so natural she had to glance away. She might mean well, but Brian was right. She couldn’t promise to keep him when she doubted it would actually happen.

  “Hey no frowns, it’s Christmas,” Patrick chided.

  “I know, just missing my folks I guess.”

  He took her hand into his. There was such a contrast in size and strength. “It’s a hard thing, losing the ones ya love. I know it’s still fresh for ya.” His eyes softened.

  “Thank you, your understanding helps. Well, I’d better get the meal started.” She pulled her hand from his, wishing she could have prolonged the contact.

  “Patrick! Try the candy. You will love it.” Brian picked up a piece and handed it to Patrick. He watched intently as Patrick put it in his mouth and closed his eyes. “Great, isn’t it? Guess what? I helped.”

  Patrick chuckled. “Ya did a fine job.”

  Brian beamed at the praise. “I’ve been whittling too, just like you.”

  “It seems I missed all the fun.”

  “No, we can whittle together now.” Brian’s exuberance lifted her spirits. She was safe and with people she cared about.

  Dinner was a surprisingly relaxing affair. Was just being here the reason? Conversation, smiles and glances that didn’t have hidden meanings relieved her. Today she didn’t worry so much about pauses, silences or if she was giving out some mysterious signals. She was free game. This whole time she’d been worried about her feelings but they didn’t matter. Patrick wasn’t kissing her anymore. In fact, he’d been a bit distant at times. Her imagination got the better of her at times but they were her worries, not his. As for Brian, this might be all the time she’d have with him. She’d make the best of it and try not to dread saying good-bye.

  “What a fine Christmas.” She smiled at them both. “I can’t remember a nicer one. Thank you both.” She’d never forget the smile on Brian’s face or his bright eyes of surprise when he spotted the knife.

  Chapter Seven

  “It’s past the point of hurt, Ahern,” Patrick said as he brushed down his horse. “It’ll be just as bad if not worse than before. I think it might take a bit longer this time to get used to being alone.”

  He grabbed the lead rope and started walking toward his first trap. It had been two weeks since their celebration and it had been hell. He wanted Samantha with a ferocity he had a hard time managing. He’d invented more reasons to be outside. He finally didn’t give a reason, he just left. She was too close, too pretty, and too appealing. Each time she smiled he felt gut kicked. It was torture.

  “I’m glad it warmed up a might, old boy. I know, I know you’ve been in the barn way too long. Still we have to be careful.” He was used to talking to Ahern. He was a good listener.

  He heard a wail and stopped. He listened again, trying to figure out what animal it could be. He ripped off his snowshoes and sprang up onto Ahern’s back. “Sounds like Samantha.” Ahern must have sensed his urgency. Patrick kept reining him in, not wanting him injured by the slushy cold snow.

  It only took a few minutes but it seemed longer. What could have happened? He shook his head. Anything could happen out here. The cabin door stood open and Patrick grabbed his rifle, jumped down off the horse’s back and ran into the cabin, ready to shoot.

  “What happened?”

  “I need your help. Brian cut himself and it’s so deep I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” Her hands shook as she grabbed Brian’s right hand and showed his sliced palm.

  He took off his outerwear and pulled a chair up next to Brian’s. “Let me see.” It was deep, very deep. “I need water.”

  “I already tried—”

  “Just do it. I need to know we tried everything before I turn to using heat.”

  She turned white. “Like Violet Flower’s wound?”

  Their gazes met and he nodded. Immediately fresh water was at his side with wet, wrung out pieces of cloth. He cleaned the blood away and pressed a cloth into the palm.

  “It hurts.” Brian’s color had drained from his face.

  “I know, son, I know. Do the best ya can. Scream out if it helps.”

  Brian nodded and bit his bottom lip.

  The bleeding didn’t stop. “Grab my whiskey it—”

  “Solomon drank it all.”

  “Sit, before ya faint.”

  Samantha promptly sat on one of the crates. “I could try to sew it.”

  “Not with the needle ya have. It’ll tear his skin to pieces. Damn, I should have the right supplies. My needle broke the last time I stitched myself up and I didn’t replace it.” He took his big buck knife and placed it into the hot coals. It would hurt like hell, but it was the only option. He’d had to do it to himself a time or two but a young boy was different.

  “Samantha, do ya think ya could get a bucket of clean snow? It’ll be best to have for after.”

  “After what?” Brian’s voice quavered and his eyes grew wide.

  “After we fix ya up.”

  He snatched his hand back from Patrick. “You ain’t cuttin’ my hand off.”

  “Nothing drastic, I promise.”

  They waited for Samantha to return. She put the bucket right next to Brian. If only he could take her worry away, but he was worried too. He took Brian’s hand in his and without preamble, took the hot knife and pressed it against the wound. The searing sound and the smell of burnt flesh nauseated him and he didn’t dare look at Samantha. She was still sitting, a good sign.

  Brian’s scream echoed through the cabin and continued long after his hand was in the bucket of snow.

  Patrick grabbed a bandage out of his bag and placed it over Brian’s wound. Then he lifted the boy out of the chair and carried him to the bed. Samantha hurried over to pull the covers down. “He’s passed out.”

  Samantha nodded. “It’s for the best.”

  Grabbing her hand, he led her to the chairs and they sat down. “Tell me, what happened. Was he whittling?” Guilt bubbled up inside of him.

  “No, no. Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault. I should have been watching but I went outside to use the necessary and I had meat and a knife out. I planned to cut it up for supper and he decided to help. I came back into his cry and all that blood. I think I screamed.”

  “I heard ya. He should be fine now and don’t blame yourself. Children get hurt all the time, especially boys.”

  “Still, I just don’t think.”

  He stood up and pulled her up in front of him. “Ya think too much.”

  She opened her mouth to reply and he swooped down and kissed her sweet
lips. She moaned as the kiss deepened and he pulled her closer until their bodies touched. His hell had turned into heaven. The sensation of her fingers running through his hair made his nerves come alive. Her nipples hardened against his chest and he almost surrendered to her sweetness. Slowly he pulled away. “I’m—”

  Reaching up, she placed her fingers over his lips. “I’m not. I think comforting each other is only natural after what happened. I was so afraid and thank the Lord you came when you did. I’m grateful.” She stared into his eyes and he tried not to flinch at the word ‘grateful’. It wasn’t a kiss of gratitude for him.

  “We’ll have to watch him and make sure the flesh searing worked.” He stepped away from her. “He’s a good child .”

  Her hands busily patted her hair into place. “Yes, yes he is.”

  Damn, he couldn’t think of one single reason to go outside. Instead, he grabbed the snowshoes he was fashioning for Samantha, pulled a chair closer to the fire and worked away. Try as he might he couldn’t concentrate and he spent the afternoon watching her clean the blood up, then the bloody rags, which she hung to dry before she began to make supper. Maybe he should have offered to cook. She probably would have said no. She was doing her darndest to stay busy.

  A cry in the dark of night woke her and she sat straight up. Next to her Brian was thrashing all around. She put her hand on his skin and panicked at its heat. She jumped out of bed and Patrick immediately came to her side.

  “Fever?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Patrick reached over and laid his hand on Brian’s forehead. “It’s a bad one. I’ll run out and get more snow.”

  Numbly she nodded. People often died of fever. The end usually started with a fever. How many people from the wagon train had she tried to nurse due to a fever? Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and lit the lamp. She grabbed a few of the dried clothes and brought a chair right next to the bed. There was no time for anything but concentrating on Brian. Not everyone died, she reminded herself.