Charlene Sands (5 page)

Now Emmy stood at the stove cooking up a mouthwatering breakfast. She appeared to have taken over Big Ed’s cooking area entirely. The shelves she’d once proclaimed barren were overflowing with mason jars and sacks of sugar, coffee and bowls of dried fruits and vegetables.

“You’ve stocked the shelves well,” he said, startling her. She whipped around, waving her spoon. Those large eyes expressed surprise even before she uttered a word.

“Bodine! You scared the daylights from me. What are you doing up?”

Her attention lingered on his chest before she lifted shy eyes to him.

“I’m hungry.”

“But you’re out of bed.”

He couldn’t tell if she was glad or disappointed. “Appears so.”

She glanced at his shoulder and arms, this time like a nurse concerned for her patient. “But should you be? I was making a meal to bring in to you.”

Bodine drew oxygen into his lungs. He’d never had anyone attend him with such persistence and consideration. Such a willow of a girl, he thought. A runaway heiress, he reminded himself. Emmy was his responsibility, not the other way around. “You don’t have to wait on me. I’m feeling stronger. I’ll just sit here at the table and have breakfast. Tomorrow, we should be on our way.”

“Tomorrow?” Emmy shook her head. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Bodine. I don’t think you realize how—”

“I do.” He pulled out his chair of polished cherrywood, its seat tufted with corded material, hardly the bench seat one might expect in a log cabin. “I know you saved me from bleeding to death. I thank you. But I’m no longer your concern, Emmy.”

Emmy’s face flushed and her dark eyes lit like a match to dry brush. “You’re not my concern?” She tossed the spoon onto the stove, wiped her hands on her dress, her fingers digging into her skirt and wrinkling the garment even more, if that were possible. She glared at him. “You nearly died trying to protect me. I worried myself sick over you. Nursed you for days, cooling your fever, trying to get you to drink, praying you wouldn’t die—”

“Singing like an angel,” he interrupted. “Where you’d get such a—”

“You tell me you’re ready to travel? Well, I’m not! I’m not about to have you faint dead away on me, not again, Bodine. We’re here in this cabin. We have food and shelter and you may be too stubborn to realize, but you’ve not yet recovered. I see the weakness in your eyes, the slump of your shoulders. Your fever just broke yesterday. You haven’t had but a smidgen of broth, you sleep fitfully and have nightmares and—”

“Something smells good,” he said, more amused at her outburst than anything else. “I see you raided the smokehouse and Big Ed’s root cellar.”

“I’m not proud of taking his food,” she admitted quickly. “But if I starved, then we both would have died!”

Bodine ran his hand over the stubble that had grown along his jaw and chin. He needed a shave. “Emmy, I saved Big Ed’s life about two years back. He’s not gonna miss a day or two of food.” He glanced over at the fry pan. “That bacon done yet?”

Emmy blinked. Her big eyes closed slowly, then she nodded and turned away, filling a plate and a mug of coffee. She set it down none too gently in front of him before filling a plate for herself. She sat and they ate in silence. Every so often, he felt her eyes on him, watching him fill his belly with the meal she’d cooked.

Despite her angry fit a moment ago, he supposed she was pleased he’d eaten her entire meal.

“How’d you save Big Ed’s life?” she asked, removing his plate hastily.

“Bring the coffeepot over and I’ll tell you.”

Emmy poured them each another cup and took the seat across from him, waiting on his next words.

“I was hunting down a horse thief up in this area. Came through Oakhurst and trailed him to the lake. That’s when I heard horrible sounds coming right behind this here cabin. I took my shotgun out and went to investigate. I found Big Ed, wrestling a grizzly.” Bodine shook his head. “That bear looked the size of an oak, and he had Big Ed pinned down, ready to take his head off.”

“Oh!” Emmy’s small body shuddered in response. She set her mug on the table and her gaze fastened to his.

Bodine took a minute, sipping from his mug, recalling the gruesome details. “Compared to the bear, Big Ed looked like a babe, and he was halfway to his maker by then. I knew I had one shot, from quite a distance. But I’m a good aim and my shotgun never failed me before. I didn’t waste time pondering, either. I took my shot. Hit the target and luckily, the bear didn’t fall onto Big Ed, or it would’ve crushed him. Ever since then, Big Ed’s got the fear of God in him about bears. That’s why his smokehouse and root cellar are so far away. Just in case—he wanted no bears scrounging for food by his cabin. Takes his shotgun with him every time he goes out there.”

Emmy’s mouth dropped open. She stood as realization dawned. She moved with slow deliberation, the tension on her face, the roundness of her eyes, belying her careful, precise movements. “You sent me out there, Bodine.”

Bodine sipped his coffee, the warm bitter brew a familiar comfort. “Hated to.”

Her voice pitched. “You didn’t warn me of bears, Bodine!”

“Would you have gone out there?”

“No!”

He took another sip. “You would have starved.”

“I could have gone into town!”

“Not without me.”

Emmy’s brows furrowed. “Why? You can’t believe Hurley’s men would have followed me this far?”

Bodine’s good mood faded. He slammed the mug down. “I’ve stayed alive all these years by believing the unbelievable. I trust no one. I take nothing for granted. It’s a fact of life. Trust no one, and you’ll live another day.”

“It’s a sad way to live, Bodine,” Emmy lashed out.

“I hunt outlaws. I can’t make mistakes. Underestimating a foe digs me an early grave. It’s how I live. Take it or leave it.”

“And if I leave it? What if I said I wanted you to leave me in Oakhurst? I’ll find my own way.”

Bodine kept a calm presence, though he knew he had to call her bluff. Too many times he’d seen suspicion in her eyes. He shrugged, the movement causing him undue pain. “Stupid move. But your choice to make.”

Emmy sighed with frustration. “What I don’t understand is your figuring I had a better chance facing down a grizzly than riding into town? That makes no sense.”

“Hell, Emmy. Last I heard from Big Ed, there ain’t been another bear spotted in these parts since.”

“I don’t believe you.” Emmy glanced at him, her wary eyes narrowed to slits.

“No matter. We have enough food for now.”

Bodine rose from the table and stretched himself out. Emmy watched him with a scowl on her face, but as he tested his limbs, moving his arms, lifting them above his head, her expression changed. Her eyes softened and her face lost any traces of anger. Bodine knew that look spelled trouble, the kind of trouble he couldn’t entertain with Miss Emma Marie Rourke.

“I’ll get dressed and check on Lola.”

Emmy nodded and whipped around, busying herself with kitchen chores. And once he’d dressed, the effort taxing some of his regained strength, Emmy stood by the doorway, holding out his shotgun.

Without a word, she handed it to him.

Bodine grinned and exited the cabin.

L
ola seemed glad to see him. She whinnied and stomped her hooves a few times. Bodine hadn’t been apart from his horse for this many days before, but as he checked her over he had to admit that Emmy had taken good care of her. Lola was groomed and fed. But he knew his mare better than he’d known any woman and Lola was on edge. She’d been cooped up in the shed without any real exercise.

“I know the feeling. I’m fixing to go crazy, too.” He stroked her nose, right along the thin white stripe, her favorite spot to be rubbed, and the mare nudged his good shoulder.

“Tomorrow, with any luck, we’ll be heading out.”

Bodine tied a lead rope around her neck and led her from the barn. He couldn’t ride her yet, but he’d walk her along the path of the cabin for a time to stretch her legs.

She practically pranced like a dancing dog, eager to get out of the barn, but he steadied her into a slow gait.

Pine needles covered the ground, crunching under his boots as he walked along the trail. Ponderosa and Digger pines lifted to a clouded sky and, from this distance, the lake appeared eerily dark and ominous. Bodine set his hat lower on his head, bringing up the collar of his slicker as a northern wind kicked up. His woolen shirt no longer kept out the cold.

Shivering, he headed back to the barn with Lola, making sure she had enough feed and hay for the day. He slapped her rump in farewell then bolted the barn door shut and took off for the root cellar, his shotgun weighing heavy on his arm.

With a smile, he recalled Emmy’s immediate distress when he’d told the tale of Big Ed and the grizzly. Fact was, the trapper had been drunker than a saloon full of range-weary cowboys and the bear had been more than ten feet away when Bodine scared him off with a shot. But Big Ed liked to tell this tale and Bodine went along. Shortly after that incident, Big Ed set a mass of bear traps and there hadn’t been one sighting since.

Bodine would never have put Emmy in any danger. He was being paid to keep her safe and he didn’t take that responsibility lightly. He figured telling Big Ed’s version would keep Emmy inside the cabin, where he could keep an eye on her. In his weakened state, he didn’t think he could protect her should the need arise. And Lord knows, with her small size, she’d never be able to fend off an attacker, whether it were man or animal.

Bodine had promised to send a wire to Mrs. Rourke. He wondered how she’d take the news that he’d been living under the same roof with her wayward granddaughter? They’d been together day and night for nearly five full days now. The first chance he got, he’d telegraph Emmy’s grandmother with his report.

After leaving the barn, he forged further into the pines until he came upon the root cellar. With the wind kicking up and the air biting cold, he didn’t stay long. His shoulder ached like the devil and there were a few things in the cellar that would ease the pain some—blackstrap whiskey and a jug of berry wine. He grabbed both quickly and hightailed it to the cabin.

He entered and latched the door, the wind howling at his back. Although a seasoned bounty hunter accustomed to rough nights on the trail, Bodine welcomed the warmth inside, the lingering scent of a cooked meal and the comfort of a big bed. He set his shotgun down and then the spirits, noting that the table had been cleared and the kitchen area tidied up, but Emmy wasn’t in sight.

He strode into the one other room in the cabin where golden embers burned low in the fireplace. He found Emmy in the bed, covered to her chin with the buffalo robe, fast asleep.

She’d exhausted herself these past days and nights, caring for him.

Bodine’s lips twitched at the sight. Her dark hair framed her unusual face, those soulful eyes rested closed as she made little sounds. She looked like a child right now, but a flash of memory struck and he recalled how she appeared while she bathed, soft and feminine with slight female curves and rounded, perfectly shaped breasts.

Bodine shoved the thought from his mind, bending low by the hearth to add a few logs to the fire. She stirred from the noise and lifted her head, grabbing the buffalo robe to her chest. “Bodine?” she whispered softly.

“Go back to sleep, Emmy.”

“Lola?”

“She’s fine.”

With that, she nodded slightly then dropped her head back onto the pillow.

Bodine took one last look at her and then strode out the bedroom, ready for more than a few swigs of homebrewed whiskey.

For medicinal purposes.

“Damn it to high heaven!”

Emma woke to Bodine’s sharp oath, her mind spinning from the abrupt awakening. She realized she’d napped in Big Ed’s room, the lure of a warm empty bed with the fire crackling too tempting for her. She’d spent four hard days caring for a man she knew little about.

His aggravated curse put her on alert. She rose quickly and left the comfort of the bed to join him in the other room.

Standing beside him, she hugged herself around the middle and looked out the clouded window Bodine had rubbed clean in one round spot, finding the source of his anger.

Snow fell.

Thin featherlike slivers streamed down and began covering the ground. Emma had never seen a snowfall. She marveled at the beauty, the flakes coating everything in sight. Evergreens glistened and, tipped with white frost, appeared almost magical. But Emmy knew that snow meant trouble and a delay to her plans.

“We’re not getting out tomorrow or the next day,” Bodine announced between tight lips. “Maybe not for a whole blame week.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked, fearing that his assumption was correct. He had yet to set eyes on her, his focus remaining on the snowfall.

“Hell, I’ve seen it before. Up in this area, snow falls for days. Even if it stops in a day or two, the roads will be slippery, too dangerous to travel on horseback.”

“Are you saying we’re trapped here?”

Bodine lifted a jug to his mouth, taking a swig. He’d found the blackstrap whiskey in the root cellar, no doubt. With cold eyes, he nodded. “Afraid so.”

Emma thought about the ramifications of living under the same roof with Bodine. When he was fevered and ill, she hadn’t cared about anything but saving his life, and now he appeared to be on the mend. She had to thank the Almighty for that, but she’d never planned for any of this. She’d left home to find her father and maybe, through him, find a missing part of herself, as well. She knew she’d set out on an adventure, but she never would have imagined the events that had led her to this point.

Trapped in a cabin with a man like Bodine.

“You’ll have time to heal,” she said, realizing the truth in that. It was the one and only consolation to being confined here.

Bodine took another swig and stared into her eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then his gaze drifted over her face and flickered down her body. Hot shivers coursed the length of her from his scrutiny. “Best to be on the road.”

He left the window, strode to the log-framed chair covered with animal hide and sat, stretching his long legs out, resting his head back.

“It’s a delay neither of us planned on…or wanted.” She glanced at the jug he cradled in his lap. “Are you fixing on drinking every drop?”

Bodine’s mouth quirked up. “Why, you want some?”

Emma flinched and shook her head. “No. Thank you,” she said, rather primly. “Does it help with the pain?”

“Some,” he said, setting the jug on the floor beside him. “Don’t worry, Emmy. I’m not a drunk.”

“Oh! I didn’t think so…I mean the notion never entered my mind.”

He closed his eyes. “Got some berry wine, too. You should try it. Takes the chill off.”

“I don’t drink.”

Bodine’s eyes opened halfway as he regarded her. “Funny that you should work in a saloon, then. Being as you’re a teetotaler and all.”

Emma moved away from the window and walked over to the cookstove to brew another pot of coffee. “I’m not exactly…a teetotaler. I don’t drink whiskey, but I’ve had a taste or two of wine.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re working in a saloon.”

“I told you, I’m looking for my father.” She grabbed the sack of Arbuckles’ and dumped a measured amount into the grinder.

“Ah, the outlaw. And you think you’ll just come across him in a saloon?”

“Well, it’s better than sitting home, wondering all my life about him. I have to try. Maybe I’ll meet up with someone who knows of him. That’s all I’m doing, Bodine. Hoping to hear word of him.”

“What if what you hear isn’t what you expect?”

She turned the wheel on the coffee grinder and contemplated as Ariosa beans crunched into sifted grinds. “My gosh, Bodine. Nothing in my life has been expected. I never knew my father. My mama died at a young age. I was raised in my grandparents’ home and they saw fit to lie to me time and again. All these years I thought my father was a decent man who’d been killed in a milling accident.”

She quit grinding long enough to take a deep breath. “I agreed to marry someone I shouldn’t, just to keep my aging grandmother happy. She’s afraid she’ll die and I’ll be left alone. I don’t blame her for that, but when I learned the truth about my father, I realized marrying Grant would only add to the lies.”

“So, you do have a beau?”

She started grinding coffee beans again. “Not so much a beau as a good friend. He…wants to marry. But my life is heading in a different direction now.”

“And you don’t want to marry him?”

She finished with the coffee beans and looked at him, sharing her innermost thoughts. “Well, no. I’ve known Grant all my life and he’s a decent man, but…”

“But what?” Bodine picked up the jug and drank from it again.

Emma drew in her bottom lip and shook her head, unable to speak her mind. She couldn’t reveal that lying in Bodine’s arms, having him hold her that first night, had sparked something inside that she’d never felt before.

He’d think her silly and too darn innocent to know what those feelings were. And he’d be correct in his assumption. She didn’t know what it all meant, but she had felt something different being held by him and she’d never looked upon Grant Harper with any such desire.

One night with Bodine had convinced her that marrying Grant wouldn’t have been fair to either of them.

“But,” she continued, keeping her eyes averted from him, “I have more to do with my life. Finding my father is a big part of it, but there’s more out there for me.” She wasn’t ready to reveal her plan to become an entertainer. It had been her mother’s dream, and not fulfilling her ambition had led to a broken heart. Emma feared that not trying to achieve her goals would break her heart, as well. She had to try. There had to be a reason for her gift.

Silence ensued and Emma looked over to Bodine, who was slouched in the big chair, sleeping.

Her heart swelled a little, seeing him rest, knowing he was healing and that she’d had a hand in saving his life. He had rescued her from Hurley’s wrath and she counted her blessings for meeting up with Bodine when she did.

As she set the coffeepot to brewing, she decided it was past time to get better acquainted with the man she knew so little about.

Snow continued to fall into the evening. Emma huddled by the stove to keep warm, watching biscuits cook in the fry pan. Her petticoats had been used for Bodine’s bandages and she’d washed out her stockings today as he slept, so now her legs erupted in chilly bumps. She couldn’t rely on her clothes to keep her warm enough, yet with Bodine on the mend, notions of donning his cozy woolen shirt again weren’t fathomable.

So Emma baked away the day. She tried her hand at making an apple pie, soaking the dried fruit in hot water to bring out the juices. She’d added a bit of berry wine for flavor, and hoped the result was an edible dessert.

She hummed softly, a silly ditty she’d learned as a child, “Turkey in the Straw.” Emma turned her biscuits and pulled out a jar of berry preserves, feeling a bit less guilty about using Big Ed’s provisions after Bodine’s assurance that he wouldn’t mind.

He’d saved the trapper from a gruesome death.

Emma shivered at the thought of Big Ed being devoured by a grizzly, yet she was confused at Bodine’s contradictory behavior. He’d rather have her fend off a bear to get into the root cellar than have her ride into town for necessities. She didn’t believe Hurley’s men would have followed her this far, even if they could have picked up her trail through the storm. But she wasn’t a bounty hunter like Bodine. She had to trust his instincts, she supposed. He’d gotten her this far, unharmed.

Emma moved the biscuits over in the pan, setting slices of bacon to sizzle next to them. The words of her hummed tune entered her mind, and without any great thought the lyrics flowed out. She became caught up in the jingle and swayed to and fro as she attended to the meal.

“You sound like an angel.” Bodine’s gruff voice startled her. She turned to find him in the big chair, his hair rumpled, his eyes half-open but locked onto hers. “I’d hear it in my dreams.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I…sometimes I forget myself. The songs just pour out of me. I’ll be more careful.”

“Ain’t a complaint, Emmy.”