The Bearwalker's Daughter (20 page)
Read The Bearwalker's Daughter Online
Authors: Beth Trissel
Thomas bent down. “Did she strike her head?”
Jack fingered the telltale lump on the back of her head. “Yes. When she fell. She’s chilled through.”
Clutching her to him, he crooned in her ear, “I’m here. You’re going to be all right, sweetheart,” he said, willing his heat to permeate the wrappings that only seemed to keep the cold in. He pressed his lips over her chilled cheeks. “We’ve got to warm her.”
Thomas took a flask from inside his coat. “Here’s brandy if you can wake her. We best get her to the nearest homestead. Brewster’s is closest and crowded with revelers. Try to get some spirits in her first.
Jack shook her. “Karin, can you hear me?”
No answer.
Thomas knelt by them and reached his hand to her face. “Karin, it’s Thomas. Wake, lass,” he pleaded, with a desperate edge Jack expected was unlike this hardened man.
Still no answer.
“Karin!” Jack shook her harder, hugging her back to him, loathe to release her for an instant. “Please. I need you.”
She moaned slightly and whispered, “Jack?”
He smothered her cold lips with a kiss and detected the faintest response.
“Thank God,” Thomas breathed out. “You’re bringing her round.”
I’m the reason she needs reviving in the first place.”
“’Tis the fault of that blasted bear. Nothing to do with you. No matter how sure you are he’s a demon in disguise.”
“Oh, he’s that, and followed after me like a hound from Hell.” Anger surged in Jack. Why did Shequenor persist in placing her in danger, only alerting Jack in time to snatch her back?
Jack assumed he’d been prompted to intercede for her in the night and it was no accident he awoke when he did. Was this all part of some insane test? Why hadn’t he been able to let Thomas fell Shequenor? If he’d seen Karin like this he would have.
He shifted her into Thomas’s arms with fresh resolve and profound reluctance. “I’ve got to return the favor and put an end to this now.”
“Jack, no,” Karin moaned.
Thomas shifted her back into Jack’s all-too-ready grasp. “You’re talking foolishness. You were knocked on the head nearly as hard as she. Stay with Karin and see to the lass. Papa and I will hunt the beast down.”
“You have no notion the wrath you would be inviting. I’m the only one who can face him.”
A shake of his head and Thomas said, “God only knows why, but you can’t pull that trigger.”
“Next time I will,” Jack insisted.
Karin twisted weakly in his arms. “Don’t.”
“Let’s see her on the mend before we act,” Thomas coaxed. “We’re only distressing her, the pair of us.”
“True.” Karin wasn’t out of danger yet. Cradling her to his chest, Jack reached his free hand to the opened flask and held the rim to her lips. “Sip this, darling.”
He clenched his teeth as he gazed down at her pale face. He’d almost lost her.
Shequenor, you’re mine.
****
Light-headed, dismayed, and frustrated almost beyond endurance, Karin slumped weeping against Jack.
“Hush now.” He cradled her to him and trotted Peki toward the Brewster’s sprawling homestead.
It wasn’t just the chilled to the bone quaking, or the ache in her head that troubled her, but the snippets of conversation she’d overheard between him and Uncle Thomas, and Jack’s obstinate resolve to go after Shequenor. Uncle Thomas had prevailed with him to delay on her account, but she would soon rally. Then what? Would her adored uncle and Grandpa also go?
Despite everything Shequenor had done or threatened to do, she didn’t want him struck down. And she couldn’t live another day if he laid any of them low. She’d make Jack see sense, she vowed, and rooted in her cloak for a handkerchief. Speaking coherently was a challenge, though, and the events of the past hour a blur.
Drawing out the square of embroidered linen, she blotted her damp face. “Shequenor did visit me,” she insisted, despite Uncle Thomas’s declaration that she’d been unconscious and imagined the exchange with the disembodied voice.
“Enough of that talk, lass,” he said from behind them. “You have got to stop carrying on about that bear. You’re as bad as Jack. And both of you knocked witless.”
On this point, Jack was bewilderingly silent, and offered her another sip from the flask. She swallowed to ease the chill, but brandy on an empty stomach didn’t aid in articulate speech. So she just cried, hating that she did.
“Shhhh...” he soothed, brushing back the hair from her cheeks. “It will be all right.”
“How?”
“I’m not certain, but I’ll mend this mess.”
“It’s all my fault—” she choked out. “Nothing would need mending if it weren’t for me.”
“Hardly. I brought Shequenor on you by coming in the first place. It’s my task to deal with him.”
She wanted to pound Jack on the chest. “No. He’s my father.”
Uncle Thomas rode alongside them. His stern face swam before her tear-filled eyes. “Hush, Karin. Let no one overhear you. As far as your family is concerned, you have no father. Grandpa McNeal declared as much at your birth and swore anyone who said different could argue the matter with his fists. No one did and the settlement accepted you as a McNeal. Do you want to put it into folks’ minds that you’re—” He hesitated.
“A half-breed?” she sobbed.
“I’ve never considered you that. None of us has,” he said more gently.
“But I am. And my father seeks for me.”
“We knew of his cunning, always feared somehow he would. We swore he’d never find you.”
“Until I came,” Jack said, an edge to his voice. “Now do you see why it’s my fight, Karin?”
“No. And if you take off after him, I’ll never forgive you, Jack McCray.”
Heaviness weighted his reply. “Then I may remain beyond your grace.”
“And maybe, I’ll go after Shequenor myself. Restore the necklace and see what he wants of me.”
“Oh, don’t be daft,” Jack flashed back. “I’m the only one who knows where his lodge is hidden in the mountains.”
Disapproval washed over her from Uncle Thomas. “You found Mary’s necklace?”
Too late, Karin bit her lip at her thoughtless disclosure. “Jack and I did. He has it now.”
“Leave it with him,” Uncle Thomas said. “Your Grandfather would have an apoplectic fit if he saw it.”
“It’s mine. Mama meant for me to find it.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Behave yourself, Karin McNeal,” Jack broke in with sternness beyond her uncle’s, “or I swear I’ll lock you in your room until all is set to rights.”
“We’re not headed home now,” she fired back in between teary gulps. “Kyle Brewster would never lock me up anywhere.”
“She’s got you there,” Uncle Thomas allowed. “The fellow’s head over heels in love with her.”
Jack tightened his grip on Karin. “I noticed. Interfering sort, is he?”
“Where she’s concerned, he might be. Brewster would wed her tomorrow if she’d have him.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Jack ground out.
“And we’ll just see about you going after Shequenor,” Karin waged in turn. At least that’s what she meant to say, but the word escaped her with more of a slur than she’d intended. Then she hiccupped violently. This on top of her shivering rendered further speech impossible.
Uncle Thomas thrust out his hand. “Give me back that flask, Jack. The girl’s had more than enough.”
With that, Karin agreed, and was bent on taking action just as soon as she could get to her feet.
****
Rollicking music engulfed Jack from inside the Brewster’s homestead. He stepped through the open door bearing Karin. Whether from the fall, biting cold, the brandy, or all three, she couldn’t yet stand alone and her petticoats spilled over them both. Not that he minded his precious burden. Despite the twinge in his shoulder and sore rib, he was leery of setting her down and risk having Kyle Brewster, and Lord knew who else, fawn all over her.
Jack paused inside the doorway. In the mix of revelers, he spied Brewster’s curly head and sized up his potential rival. He reckoned the young man was strapping enough to hold his own in a fight and the sort who’d appeal to women. No more so than Jack, though, and perhaps less. Feminine glances roamed up one side of him and down the other. Without a doubt, he had an open shot at these lasses were he so inclined.
He wasn’t, and scanned the room for predatory males. One lean figure caught his eye, greasy brown hair pulled back at his neck. “There’s Jeb Tate, the cantankerous lout.”
“You bested him and that other lout today,” Karin blurted with unexpected bravo, considering how upset she’d been with him not long ago.
Jack puffed up with momentary pride then caught himself. “They may not remain that way.”
More men glanced around at his arrival. Narrow eyes targeted him as if he had a mark on his chest before fastening onto Karin. No wonder the McNeal clan guarded her so closely. He was tempted to turn and leave, but she needed care.
“There’s Mama.” He picked her out in the throng, though not among the swirling skirts and stomping boots in the center of the room.
Karin twisted in his arms for a better look. “Such gaiety.”
He glanced down at her. Even in her wobbly state, she seemed entranced. The music danced in her eyes like flames in the smoky blue, medicine for the soul. She’d soon rally amid all of this energy.
“Merriment indeed.” Jack took in the rosy women and robust men worked up into a glistening sheen. Fiddlers perched in a corner of the overflow struck up a reel. Partners joined hands, circling, turning, swinging, and promenading up and down.
The heady sound pounded in Jack with a pulse as familiar as his own heart, the wild cry of a soaring hawk, and beat of drums. The throbbing rhythm made him want to forget his cares and join in. Better still, to circle around and around with Karin in his arms.
Thomas nudged him from behind. He’d almost forgotten the man was back there. “Might be better to shift Karin over to me now before you arouse any more attention.”
Jack shook his head. “I’ll see to her.”
“With all these folk looking on?”
“My way of announcing our betrothal.”
Karin flashed wondering eyes at him.
“Easy, Jack,” Thomas cautioned. “Keep a sharp lookout for any who object. Joseph will be along soon with Papa. Lord knows he’ll cry foul, if Papa doesn’t.”
By way of reply, Jack strode into the whirling assembly.
His mother rushed over to them. “How’s Karin?”
“In need of warmth and something besides spirits in her stomach. She had a tumble, but will be all right.”
Sarah smoothed Karin’s cheek with a touch typical of her gentleness. “I’ll fetch you both a dish of stew. Go settle her near the hearth.” She patted Thomas’s arm. “Thank you for seeing them safely back.”
“She won’t thank me if you get yourself stabbed,” Thomas muttered in Jack’s ear. “Come on to the fire.”
Using his amicable bulk, Thomas cleared a path through the revelers. Jack sniffed the savory aroma of roasted meat amid the strong musk from the crush of bodies. Not all human scents were disagreeable, though. Sweet perfume clung to Karin’s soft skin and hair, intoxicating. The last thing he wanted was her at odds with him over her damnable father.
Kyle Brewster made his way to them. Concern mixed with the unmistakable envy in his brown eyes as he weighed Karin in Jack’s grasp. “McNeal, McCray,” he said, nodding at Thomas and Jack in tentative greeting, his focus on Karin as if she were the only one present. “Has Miss McNeal suffered injury?”
Jack left explanations to Thomas. Brewster could stew over her the whole evening for all he cared.
“Thrown from her mount,” her uncle said. “If we could find a spot near the hearth?”
“Certainly.” Brewster sprang at the occupants of two stools, shooing them aside to make room for Jack and Karin.
She wanly smiled her appreciation at their zealous host. “Thank you kindly, Mister Brewster.”
He staggered as though she’d robbed him of breath. What would the man do under the force of a truly dazzling smile, faint? Jack wondered, and sat in the vacated seats. He noted the grudging lines at Brewster’s mouth from having to oblige such an unwanted guest.
Taking advantage of his choice position, Jack propped Karin beside him and circled a possessive arm around her. He waved Thomas toward the gathering. “You’ve done enough. Go eat, drink, join in the revelry.”
“Have care.” Thomas cast him a reproving look before he turned aside.
Clearly, Thomas thought Jack too cocky and perhaps he was. But now, with Karin at his side, he didn’t care about anything else except keeping her close.
Brewster sidled from boot to boot, his gaze still on her. “Might I fetch some ale or whiskey to warm you, Miss McNeal?”
