Deborah Camp (12 page)

“It’s not the same thing?”

“Nope. Luck is a faithless mistress; she comes to call at her own whim. Medicine is at a person’s fingertips.” He snapped his knotty-knuckled fingers. Sentry trotted to Gus from a dark corner of the stables. Gus stroked the dog’s long, black-and-white fur. “Like this one, it comes when it’s called.” He hugged the hound. “Have we given your mistress enough time to dress herself for bed? What do you think, captain?”

Tucker nodded and struggled to his feet. “Plenty of time. I appreciate the talk and the drink. I’m the first to admit that I have a lot to learn.”

“You could teach me a thing or two, I reckon.”

“Oh?” Tucker arched a dubious brow. “Like what?”

“Can you write?”

“Yes. Can’t you?”

“Never have mastered it. Maybe you can give me instruction someday. I’d like to write my name.”

“I’ll be glad to do what I can.” Tucker started for the cabin, but stopped. “Can Copper write?”

“A little. She knows her letters.”

“Where’d she learn them?”

“Micah McCall taught her. He tried to teach me, but I’m not as pretty as Copper and he sorta lost interest.”

“Who is he?”

“A mountain man like me.”

Tucker smiled, finding it hard to imagine there was another man like Grizzly Gus roaming the high country. He clapped Gus on the back of his grizzly overcoat. “You’re a piece of work, Grizzly Gus. Did you slay that bear you’re wearing?”

“Slayed it, skinned it, and ate it. Anything less would have been a travesty. He was one fine griz.”

They trudged back to the cabin and made sufficient noise to warn Copper before Tucker opened the door. She was already in bed and Tucker wrestled with disappointment. He had fully intended on guiding her gently toward a discussion of what led her to hate her husband and wish him dead. Tomorrow, he thought, yawning.

Tucker climbed into the top bunk. Gus slept in front of the hearth and snored so loudly Tucker had trouble falling asleep. Then the spirits swam into Tucker’s blood and he dropped into a deep, drowning sleep. He didn’t even awaken for Valor’s midnight feeding.

Gus left shortly after breakfast, but not before Tucker had traced the letters G–U–S with a charred stick on a piece of parchment. He gave it to the old man and told him to practice making the letters. Despite Tucker’s protests to the contrary, Gus left the rest of the bottle of spirits with Tucker, and Tucker buried it in the corner of the stables, thinking that Copper might just disapprove.

Alone in the cabin, Copper filled a basin and took a sponge bath, then washed her hair. She sat before the fire to comb out her long, sleek tresses and hummed a lullaby to her sleeping baby.

She laced her hair into a thick braid and was
washing the breakfast dishes when Tucker returned from his chores. He stamped snow off his moccasins and brushed melting flakes from his thick hair. Without a word, he grabbed a rag and set to drying the dishes she had washed. The easy camaraderie wasn’t lost on her. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and admired the lush, sable fan of his lashes and the straight, bold bridge of his nose. He caught her looking at him and smiled. Something warm and wonderful spread through Copper’s veins.

“It’s starting to snow again.”

She cleared her throat before chancing her voice. “Yes, I noticed the clouds. They look heavy. It should be a big snowfall.”

He winced. “Too bad. It’s hard enough for me to get around without having to plow through another few inches of snow.”

“Next week I’ll remove the splint from your leg. It should strengthen quickly after that.”

“Good.”

He waited while she scrubbed her prized cast-iron skillet. Copper was minutely aware of him; every breath he took wafted through her own body, every flicker of his gaze felt like a caress.

“Gus is quite a character. He dotes on you. How’d you two meet up?”

“He traded with the Absaroka. I’ve known him since I was a girl.” It was hard to talk about the life back there in the shadows of yesterday when the life stretching out before her was suddenly rife with scintillating possibilities.

“And he helped you when the Absar—Crow abandoned you?”

She smiled at his attempt to pronounce the name. “Absaroka,” she instructed. “It’s our Indian name. Crow is the one given to us … to them, I mean, by the white men. The Absaroka is not just the crow. It’s the big, black powerful bird that figures
into the Indian mystic beliefs. That bird is as important as the eagle.”

He scrutinized her for a moment. “Do you still think of yourself as one of them—down deep, I mean?”

“Yes.” She sighed with a twinge of homesickness. “I was raised in their ways and it’s what I carry in my mind and heart. But they don’t claim me, so I’m teaching myself not to claim them either.” She washed wooden bowls and spoons, and stacked them for him to dry. “I lived in a cave at first, but Gus tracked me and found me. He moved me into his cabin until the snow melted and he could help me build my own place.”

“You were living in a cave? You were going to have that baby in a cave?”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until a few weeks after I was kicked out. I meant to kill some buffalo and make me a lodge, but I had no horse and no weapons to bring down such a big animal. If Gus hadn’t offered help, I’m not sure I could have survived with a baby growing in me.” Gratitude crowded her heart. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“Speaking of which …”

He dipped his head to better see her face. Copper was acutely aware of how she must look to him with her hair wet and curling at her hairline, her face bare and freckled, her clothing a mixture of cultures. She felt like a mongrel.

“That tomahawk talk last night … well, it was all bull. I hope you’ll forget it and forgive me,” he said, his voice as soft as a sighing breeze. “The truth is, I’d trust
you
with
my
life.”

Copper worried her lower lip over her teeth. “You should be careful who you entrust your life to, Tucker Jones.” She sent him a quick smile to sweeten her warning. “Maybe a little corner of you fears me because I act more Indian than white.”

He gave her a look that was both quizzical and amused. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first man to fear me.”

From the corner of her eye, Copper saw him fold the drying rag with slow deliberation. His actions sent a vibration through her, as if her backbone were a tuning fork he’d struck. Her gaze slid to his. Attraction sparkled in the green lustre of his eyes. Copper’s mouth went dry and a heaviness stole through her limbs. When he took her hands in his and dried them with the rag, she made no move of her own, but gave herself over to him.

“Why would I be afraid of you? Because you’re a red-headed witch?” His smile went straight to her heart. Her knees almost buckled. “Or because a man could drown in your brown sugar eyes?” Her knees did buckle, but she recovered, aided by his hands cupping her elbows.

Drown
…
a man could drown
. She pulled away from him. “It’s said that I’ve already killed one man—my husband.”

“Gus told me something about that, but it sounds like a bunch of hoodoo to me.”

“The Indians don’t think so.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not Indian.” He cradled her chin in the palm of his hand and his long fingers cupped the side of her face. “And neither are you.” His gaze missed nothing; not her brows, not her lashes, not her nose, nor the slash of her cheekbones. His sharp intake of breath alerted her to his own tumult of nerves. “Thank God it was you who found me out there on that cold, frozen ground. I’ve said that every day since I returned to my senses, but I’ve never meant it as much as I do … right … now.”

His lips lit on hers like a butterfly on a petal, but she was more aware of his fingers sliding through her damp hair and her middle pressed
against his. His lips were sweet and cool, flitting over hers with hardly any pressure at all. She’d never before experienced such a kiss. The ones she’d known had been hard-edged and masterful, always making her feel overpowered. This kiss was a token, not a brand.

Her hands made contact with his buckskin shirt. She gripped the fringe dangling from his sleeves. Indian clothes, she thought, but when she peeked through her lashes, it was no Indian studying her as if she were a painting. She swallowed and tried to think of something to say, but all she could concentrate on was how soft his kiss had been—not even its shadow remained. Given another chance, she was afraid he’d ruin it, so she clutched his wrists and brought his hands down to his sides.

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice husky.

“Maybe for you.” His was much huskier. “I have the notion I’ll never get enough of you.”

She retreated, finding her own territory again. “I can’t have this, Tucker.” Resting a hand against her forehead, she listened to her pulse pound. “I understand how you might be craving a woman, but I can’t accommodate you.”

“It’s too soon after the baby?”

She almost laughed at him. “I don’t
want
to share your bunk.”

He dipped his head to capture her gaze. His held mischief. “You sure? I want you to be absolutely sure, Copper.”

She looked off to one side to hide the smile he’d coaxed from her. “I’m not sure of anything these days. Ever since the baby came, I don’t know my own mind from one minute to the next. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but I’ve been a jumble of moods.”

He barked a laugh. “I noticed.”

“Your kiss wasn’t repulsive—”

“Well, hell, thanks! Why should it be?”

She thought she’d revealed too much, so she picked up the basin of water and started for the door. Tucker limped ahead to open it for her, and Copper threw the dishwater outside.

“I guess I’m the first white man you’ve kissed. Did you think we’d taste different or something?”

“You’re not the first,” she rejoined automatically, then wished she hadn’t opened that particular line of questioning.

“No? You mean Gus or someone else?” he demanded.

His tone of voice brought it all back; the ringing orders, stinging hands, and quiet, desperate obeisance. Resentment blasted through her. She spun around to glare at him.

“I’m not your property! I don’t answer to you. This is why I don’t want to encourage you. Never again will I be owned. Understand?” She thumped a fist between her breasts. “I belong to me. I don’t have to answer your questions or allow your hands on my body or even speak to you if I don’t want to!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. You’re a lady maverick.” Then he leaned into her, so close that she could see the starburst design of gold in the centers of his eyes. “But even mavericks yearn for a mate now and then.”

“I’ve had one and that’s all I want. Think of me as a lone wolf.”

“Uh-uh. More like a she-wolf on the mend. You’re nursing some wounds. So am I. Once we’re healed up, I think we’ll have a change of heart.”

She set the basin down on the table and extended her hand. “Let’s be friends, Tucker. Friends are good, aren’t they?”

“Depends on what you want out of life. Friends are good, but mating is a natural thing, Copper.” He took her hand in both of his and patted the
back of it before letting go. “Fighting human nature can wear a body out.”

“Beating a dead horse can do the same thing,” she retorted with a saucy grin.

“Dead horse? Who you calling a dead horse?”

Like a cowboy’s loop, his arms settled around her waist and pulled her up high against him. Devilry played across his face. His masculinity surrounded her—all muscle and sinew. Her femininity curled like a cat in the pit of her stomach, purringly content. She spread her hands across his chest and his heart kicked her palm.

“You don’t listen, do you?” she asked, breathlessly.

He spread one hand at her throat and nuzzled her temple. “I hear you, but I don’t have to agree with you. You’re not dead inside, Copper, and I’ve just proved it. I can feel your heart racing and I can hear your blood singing.”

“That’s yours; not mine,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and not give too much away.

His laughter tattooed her in puffs of warm air against the side of her face. “Want me to let you go? Just say so.”

So it was a test. Did he think she was so taken with his attentions that she wouldn’t be able to resist him? She angled away from his stroking lips.

“Let me go.”

She felt surprise bolt through him. She readied for a battle. Experience had taught her that men and their promises parted company when confronted with desire. When his arms dropped away from her, she swayed for a moment m stunned disbelief. Tucker spread out his arms in a broad shrug.

“So be it,” he said. “You don’t even have to say please.”

In that moment he became far more attractive to her. She smiled and felt her skin heat with a blush of pleasure. “Thank you, Tucker Jones.”

“You’ll never have to fight me, Copper. I respect you and I’ll respect your wishes. I swear.”

Staring into his guileless green eyes, she believed him.

“I’
m going hunting before the next big snow chases the game to higher country,” Copper announced the next morning. She swung around to look at Tucker. “You want to come along?” She mirrored his smile, tickled by the enthusiasm that leapt into his eyes at the invitation.

“Really? I won’t hold you back?” He rubbed his splinted leg. “I’m not exactly fleet of foot.”

“We’ll be on horseback.”

“What about the baby? Shouldn’t you leave her here with me while you hunt?”

“No, I’m taking her.”

Tucker sent a worried glance toward the window. “Out there? You sure? She could catch the sniffles.”

“She’s a child of the mountains. The cold air will strengthen her lungs.”

“From the hollering she’s been doing, they sound pretty strong to me already.”

Copper picked up the baby and held her above her head. Valor kicked, gurgled, and looked owlishly at her mother.

“Yes, yes, yes, she a strapping girl,” Copper said, unconsciously using a squeaky voice that emerged when she talked to her baby. “I’ll just wrap her up all snug and strap her on my back so she can get a good look at the beauty she’s been born into. She will be fine. Yes, she will be a good,
sweet baby.” Copper lowered Valor to nuzzle her soft cheek. “I’ll never let her out of my sight. Mama will protect her little angel.”