Blind Fury (10 page)

“You mean your great-grandmother?”

Kara nodded. “I guess it makes sense; if I look the most like her, I must have inherited more of the Native American genes. I've always loved being outdoors.”

Strands of hair from her braid had gotten caught in the zipper of her jacket. Colin reached down and began to work them free. “Hold still. I don't want to hurt you.”

She froze in place, praying he wouldn't see the flush that had crept over her face. She wasn't nearly as afraid of
having her hair pulled as she was of the way she felt when Colin stood this close. He may be part of the family, but she definitely did not think of him as one of her brothers.

“There.” He gave the braid a gentle tug and brushed it back over her shoulder. For a few seconds his brown eyes stared into hers, then he dropped his gaze and turned back toward the fire. “Let's eat. We've still got a lot to do.”

She clenched her fists for a minute to stop her hands from shaking, then followed him.

T
HE
ROUND
,
GLASS
KNOB
at the top of the coffeepot bubbled a dark, rich brown. Colin poured the steaming liquid into two tin cups, while Kara carefully threaded a wiener onto each of the sticks. She held hers over the fire until it was heated through, then quickly dipped it into the flames to blacken the outside.

Colin laughed and held up his stick. “Another thing we have in common.”

They dipped the hot dogs in mustard and washed them down with gulps of warm coffee. The tin cups warmed their hands, while the food and drink warmed their bellies. Between the two of them, they finished the entire package of wieners.

Colin ate three fruit sticks and his candy bar, then wiped his hands on his jeans. “Ah, much better. For now.” He looked at his watch. “We'd better get on with it if we want to get back in time for dinner.”

She had to laugh. “Good thing this isn't a real survival situation. We just devoured two days' worth of rations.”

She gathered the trash, wadded it into a ball, and stuck it in the plastic-lined pocket of her backpack. Colin rinsed both cups, then used his jacket cuff to pick up the coffeepot and set it just to the side of the steadily burning flames. “We might want more of this later. It's not getting any warmer out here.”

Kara hugged herself and stamped her feet to get the blood flowing in her legs. It was cold and damp away from the fire. She pulled on her gloves and moved toward the travois. “We've already got the packing down and started a fire. I say we move on with the shelter.”

“I'm with you. How big, and where do you want to put it?”

Kara looked around the clearing. “How about over there.” She pointed to a cluster of three good-sized trees with strong, thick limbs and heavy boughs. “Those look like they'd hold together in a hurricane. They would block the wind.”

She unzipped her pack and dug out a roll of fishing line. “We can't forget to tell them they can use shoelaces or strips of leather from saddlebags or ties, but I always carry this. You can use it for lots of things.”

Colin helped her gather up the three stout poles she'd found and carry them into the half-circle of trees.

They arranged the poles tepee-style, with the longest stretching out behind in a simple A-frame. Wakara bound the tops together with fishing line and helped Colin push the bottom ends securely into the ground. Then they covered it with one of the space blankets. Kara threaded more line through a darning needle and secured the cover to the two front poles with a dozen stitches on each side. They found enough rocks to hold the edges of the blanket flush with the ground. Then Colin pulled out his hunting knife and cut several pine boughs to lay over the top of the shelter. By stacking them from the ground up and weaving
them together, they got by without having to use any more fishing line.

When they were done, Kara could feel herself sweating inside her jacket and shirt. She unzipped the jacket. “Whew. I need to shake this out and get dry.”

Colin just nodded and did the same with his heavy parka. She was glad to see he was as out of breath as she was.

The damp air did little to dry the inside of the jackets. She couldn't take her shirt off, of course, and they hadn't brought a change of clothes along. She'd have to remember to do that for the actual demonstration. She'd promised Mr. Jaminson the afternoon's outing would be as real as possible.

“Ready to try it out?”

She took a deep breath. “I'm game if you are.” She ducked through the opening, turned around, and sat down at the back. Colin had to get down on his hands and knees to enter, and once he was inside, neither of them could move without jostling the other.

Kara drew her knees up to her chest and wiggled back as far as she could go. “I guess this is more of a one-man shelter.”

Colin was facing her, still on his hands and knees. “But it would be real cozy in a snowstorm.”

His breath blew warm against her cheek, and Kara closed her eyes, wondering what it would be like to be trapped in a storm with Colin in a shelter as small as a doghouse. She leaned her chin on her knees. “Well, it sure would keep us warm.”

Her eyes flew open. Had she said that out loud? Colin was grinning, but already backing out.

“We forgot pine boughs for the floor. My jeans are soaked.”

She realized the seat of her pants was wet too as she crawled out into the cold air.

Colin handed over her jacket and gloves. “I think we'd better get back. I don't like the looks of that sky.”

She looked up. Dark clouds had formed, hovering like demons right over their heads. The tops of the trees began to sway as an icy wind blew through the clearing.

Colin was already stowing away the rest of the gear. “Here.” He handed her the tin cup with about two inches of steaming coffee in the bottom. “Drink up. It'll help until we're on the move.”

She could only nod as she realized her teeth were already chattering.

Colin poured the last of the coffee on the fire, then refilled the pot from the creek and doused it again.

They stashed the unwashed cups in their backpacks, strapped them on, and untied the horses. Colin gave her a leg up, then mounted Dakota in one smooth stride.

“What about the travois?”

“We leave it.”

“What about all that wood!”

“We leave that too.” He turned and looked at her, his mouth set in a grim line, a look in his eyes that Kara had never seen before. A haunted look—something close to panic. He reached across the space between them and gripped her wrist.

“I don't mind practicing survival techniques, Wakara, or even teaching them, but we've both experienced the real thing, and I, for one, don't want to go there again. Ever.”

She could only nod, remembering the fire, the heat, and the terror she felt when she knew both she and her little brother could die. They had been able to escape the heat and flames and spend the night in relative safety. It must have been far worse for Colin. Finding Anne injured and
unconscious, racing on horseback up a trail he couldn't see, with a raging inferno burning on every side. When they fell and lost the horses, he'd had only enough strength left to drag Anne into a cave and wait for rescue. That must have been the longest and most agonizing two days of his life.

Kara urged Lily forward, and the mare was only too eager to go. The wind picked up, snapping like gunshots through the trees. When she looked over her shoulder, Colin was right behind her. Menacing dark clouds rolled after them, as if the storm was chasing them down the trail.

She gave Lily her head. Thanks to their earlier effort, the trail was clear of brush and debris, and the horses had traveled it dozens of times.

Lily might know the trail, but she hated wind. As the howling increased, so did the mare's speed, until Kara felt she was flying almost weightless, like in her dream, but this time it wasn't a happy feeling. The boiling clouds and screeching wind made her think of billowing smoke and the roar of flames that had chased her and her little brother down the nearly dry riverbed. She bent over the horse's neck, letting her run.

She saw the tree a split second after she heard the crash. A huge ponderosa pine hit the ground just a few yards in front of them. She bent lower, felt the horse's muscles bunch, the hind legs gather and push. Then they were going up and over, sailing through the air, front feet down, then the back. Kara rocked with the motion, and Lily never broke stride.

“Yee-haa!” Colin's yell split the air like the crack of a whip. Wakara didn't dare look, but she could still hear the thud of Dakota's hooves behind her. She could only pray Colin was still in the saddle.

They broke out of the clearing and into the meadow, where the clouds hovered and a cold rain had begun to
fall. Kara sat back in the saddle, loosened her grip on Lily's flanks, and tugged gently on the reins. The mare instantly obeyed by slowing her pace, then settled into a slow trot as they reached the field behind the barn. Kara drew her up beside the gate and dared to look behind her.

Colin's hat had disappeared, and his face was the color of dirty chalk. Dakota had slowed to a walk, and when they came up beside her, instead of the terror she expected to see, Colin was grinning from ear to ear.

“Whew, what a ride! For a few minutes I thought I'd signed up for a rodeo. Where did you learn to jump like that?”

Kara had the gate unlatched and shoved it open with her boot. “I didn't.” She meant to explain that Lily had jumped while she just held on, but then the sky opened up and dropped a bucket of water on her head.

Colin latched the gate and they galloped to the barn. Instead of stopping outside to dismount, which was a basic rule, they rode the horses straight into their stalls.

Kara dismounted and had to grab hold of the saddle to steady herself. Her legs felt like jelly. Lily was blowing hard, her sides heaving, thick, white foam running from her mouth. Kara wrapped both arms around the horse's neck and gave her a long hug. The mare blew, then nuzzled her shoulder. “Good girl,” Kara told her. She didn't have the breath to say more.

She moved quickly to pull the saddle and blanket off Lily's back. She could hear Colin mumbling to Dakota in the next stall. The big gelding was breathing every bit as hard as Lily. At one point, Kara thought she heard Colin moan.

She backed out of Lily's stall and peeked around the corner. Colin stood hunched over, one hand on his horse's
bridle, the other clutching his ribs. The ride must have really jarred him.

“Colin?”

He tried to stand up straight, but then coughed and doubled over again.

Kara felt a jolt of fear. Had one of his ribs broken free and punctured a lung? After the fire, the doctor had told them Colin was lucky that very thing hadn't happened in his fall. Broken ribs would heal—and they'd been healing fine up to now—but a punctured lung was a different story.

She rushed into the stall and slid an arm around his back. The wheezing sounds coming from his chest scared her even more. “Can you walk?”

He nodded weakly, and she guided him through the barn and settled him on a bale of hay. While he caught his breath, she ran to the tack room and wetted down a handful of paper towels.

“Here,” she spread one open and handed it to him. “Breathe through this, it will calm the cough.”

He nodded and took it from her, placing it over his mouth and nose. The coughing slowed, and his breathing became more normal. Kara drew a deep breath of her own. “Whoa, you scared me.” She picked up his wrist and found his pulse. It was galloping as fast as the horses had been a few minutes ago. But even as she started to count down one minute, Colin's heart rate slowed, and he rested his free hand on her arm.

“Wakara, it's okay.” He used the paper towel to mop his face and neck, then wadded it up and accepted another to wipe his hands.

Wakara felt a tiny thrill at the way he said her name, but she wasn't sure she believed his words. “Are you sure you're
okay? I think we'd better get you into Urgent Care and let a doctor look at those ribs.”

Colin smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but I'm really fine. The ride just set me back a little. The doc said I might have spells like this.”

Still, she wasn't convinced. “I can drive the pickup, you know. I've got my permit, and with you in the car . . .” He was already shaking his head, so she let the sentence go unfinished.

Colin pushed to his feet. “We'd better get to these horses, or we'll be calling a vet.”

“Right.” She wanted to protest that she would rub down the horses and he should go to the house, but the set of his shoulders told her it would do no good.

On her way back to Lily, she peeked into the smaller stall at the far end of the barn.

“Colin?”

“Right here.” He moved toward her slowly, lugging Dakota's saddle, still in obvious pain. But his breathing seemed to be okay.