Come Spring (25 page)

Whenever anyone asked why he was keeping the great shaggy beasts alive he would say that he was saving them to show his children. In reality, he knew a great sense of peace whenever he watched the buffalo graze. They were tangible memories of the not so distant past when his own ancestors roamed the great plains and forged a culture built around the life-giving bodies of the giant animals.

“I ‘spect you’ll be hearin’ something about Annika in the next few days,” Zach predicted.

Kase looked doubtful. “Not unless the weather clears some. I heard this last storm even stopped the train in its tracks.” He looked at Rose. “Remind me to send a letter off to Richard Thexton. There’s no need for him to come all this way when there’s nothing he can do right now, anyway.”

Zach bristled. “That’s all we need right now, a damn fool tenderfoot out here tryin’ to figure out which end of a gun to point.”

“Tenderfood?” Rose said.

Kase sighed. “Tell you later.”

Zach pushed away from the table and nodded to Rose. “Well, Rosie, I ‘spect I best be headin’ on back to town before it gets too cold. Thanks for the grub.”

She stood, as did Kase, to walk their guest to the door. “Come again, Signor Zach.”

He patted his front shirt pocket, now bulging with stolen cookies. “You can bet on it.”

“B
UCK
?”

Annika’s voice was raspy, no louder than a whisper, but the big man resting his head on the table heard her and immediately mediately went to her bedside. He knelt on the floor and took her hand. “How are you?”

Pain thundered in her head and her throat was so sore she could barely swallow. “Not so well.” Fear shone in her eyes as memory dawned. “How’s Baby?”

“She’s got a fever, but she’s alive. Before she fell asleep she was asking for the buttons.”

Annika realized she was on his bed, turned her head, and saw the child sleeping fitfully beside her. She reached out and touched Baby’s forehead. It was hot and dry. She started to sit up, then discovered she was nude beneath the heavy pelts and blankets.

“Where are my clothes?”

Buck colored, and looked away. “You were soaked through. They’re by the fire.”

She raised up enough to see her clothing strung across the backs of chairs and barrel stools in front of the fire. She tried to keep her aplomb, fought hard to comport herself as her mother would in such a delicate situation.

She tried to ignore the man kneeling at her bedside, who still held her hand in his.

“Might I have my nightgown if it is dry, please?”

She thought she saw him quickly stifle a smile.

“Sure.” He let go of her hand, stood, and retrieved her gown. “You need any help?”

With a sidelong glance in his direction, she shook her head and then regretted it when her headache began pounding again. He handed her the nightgown and turned away, occupying himself at the kitchen bench. The bed ropes creaked and fabric rustled as she dressed. Buck stood staring at the cup he was holding tightly in his hands.

This morning he had almost lost them both. During the hours that passed while he tended Baby and waited for Annika to awaken, his mind raced out of control. What if Annika had not saved Baby? What if they had both drowned? How could it have all happened so quickly with him not six feet away? Guilt avalanched over him, pressing him down with its weight until he thought he could not bear any more.

Tears stung his eyes whenever he looked at Baby. Even now he wasn’t sure that he might not lose her; an unchecked fever had a way of draining the life out of a body. Baby reminded him of his younger sister, and Sissy had died of fever. The child’s lungs might still contain water, and although he was no stranger to healing he knew of no way to drain them.

He heard Annika clear her throat and immediately crossed to the fireplace where he filled the cup with more tea and carried it to her.

“Thank you.” Sitting propped against the back wall, she smiled shyly as she took the cup from him and pressed it to her lips. She grimaced as the tea made its way painfully down her throat.

“Having trouble swallowing?”

She nodded. “My head hurts too.”

“You remember anything about what happened out there?”

“I remember Baby falling in the creek and then jumping in after her. I remember trying to get to the cabin, and then I heard you whistle. After that...” She shook her head.

“You slipped and hit your head against a rock. I had to stitch it up for you.”

She raised a hand to the tender area on the side of her head. “Stitches?”

“I was careful. I don’t think they’ll scar.” He left her again and brought back a cracked mirror in a round frame.

Annika inspected his handiwork. A line of fine, even sutures marched from her temple almost to the corner of her eye. Each stitch was precisely made. “You did this?”

His mistook her meaning. “I’m sorry. I had to.”

“It looks so professional. If you hadn’t told me you did it yourself I might have thought there was a doctor hiding somewhere nearby.”

He couldn’t help but feel somewhat proud. The compliments he’d received in his life had been all too few and grudgingly given.

“Finish the tea,” he urged. “I’ll make a poultice for that sore throat.”

Annika drank down the tea and handed him the cup, then leaned back and closed her eyes, thankful that Richard Thexton could not see her now. For him, her situation would have been intolerable. Richard lived by a strict code of ethics that were very rarely broken. Their long courtship had been dictated by correct social behavior—they were rarely alone, and never had he taken advantage of the situation by giving her more than a chaste kiss whenever they were. As a result, Annika found the fact that Buck Scott had not hesitated to strip her naked extremely shocking, especially when he was unwilling to meet her eyes and seemed so embarrassed by it.

She realized with sudden clarity that she could never share with anyone the intimate details of her life with Buck Scott here in this mountain cabin. When she was back home, she would be forced to keep the memories locked deep inside, certain that her mother, who was always doing what was fitting and proper, would never understand. Nor would her father. Kase might understand, if he didn’t let his temper get in the way. She didn’t know her sister-in-law well enough yet to know if she could confide in her or not.

He was across the room, opening tins, searching for something. Finally, after a few moments of mixing and puttering, Buck crossed the room carrying a small bowl and a piece of flannel.

He opened one hand to reveal a horehound drop and popped it into her mouth. “This should have you feeling better in no time.” Buck held the bowl beneath her nose as he dipped in the rag.

She wrinkled her nose, recognizing the pungent smell as the one she’d sniffed in a jar the day she was searching for tea. “What is it?”

“Bear grease and turpentine. I’m going to rub it on your throat and then wrap it with flannel.”

“God, it smells awful.”

“If you put it on early enough it works.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“I don’t think my throat hurts that badly.” Feigning a smile, she swallowed and said, “See?” But she could tell by the determined look on his face there was no escape.

“Tip your head back.”

She did and he was presented with the vulnerable white length of her throat. Dipping three fingers in the rank mixture, he reached out and began to massage in the ointment.

Annika closed her eyes and let his fingers work their magic. Apprehensive at first, she tried to relax, still all too aware of his nearness. She felt the movement of his fingers slow and then cease altogether, but his touch never left her skin. She opened her eyes and found him leaning over her, just inches away. There was something in his sky blue eyes she had not seen before, something wide and questioning as if he were silently appealing to her to understand, to trust him.

Giving in to his silent plea, she did not pull away, but lay pliant beneath the strong, warm fingers across her throat. Mesmerized by the look in his eyes, drawn into the exchange, she waited, as if she were on the brink of some grand discovery. Her lips parted expectantly.

Buck leaned closer.

Annika lowered her lashes to shield herself from the intensity reflected in his eyes. She could feel his warm breath against her face.

He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingertips.

And then Baby started to cry.

   13   

B
ABY’S
cry was as effective as ice water. Buck and Annika turned toward her in unison and found the little girl tangled in the covers. She cried fitfully as she tried to free herself.

Instinctively, Buck started to reach for her, but since his hands were coated with bear grease he was unable to help. Annika leaned across the bed and soon had Baby unwrapped and comfortable, but the child still fretted with the covers.

“You have to keep the blankets on, Baby.” The unfamiliar raspy sound of Annika’s voice did little to soothe the child. Crawling toward Buck, Baby fought to escape the bedclothes again. Annika reached out and pulled her onto her lap.

“Let me just wrap you up, then I’ll wash my hands and take her from you,” he said.

Annika finally met his eyes. “She’s no trouble.”

Buck, whose face was aflame for the second time that day, gingerly wrapped the flannel swatch around Annika’s throat and then left mem to wash his hands.

“She’s so hot, Buck.”

“I know,” he said over his shoulder, trying hard not to let his worry show.

Annika smoothed Baby’s hair and tried to cover her again, but the child would have none of it. She began whining, although she seemed content to lay her head on Annika’s breast. Annika stroked the feverish brow and cuddled the child close.

“Buttons?” Baby sniffed. “Ankah’s buttons?”

“You can play with the buttons as soon as you feel better, all right?”

“Buttons?”

Buck came back to the bedside, this time carrying another cup of steaming liquid. “Willow bark tea,” he explained to Annika. “We have to get some down her to break the fever.”

“You have to let it cool some.”

He snapped, “I know that,” then set the cup down on an upended crate beside the bed and took Baby from her. The child quieted immediately. His expression suddenly grew serious as he patted the little girl on the back. All the while he stared at Annika.

“When the pass clears...” he began.

She waited expectantly as he collected his thoughts.

“When the pass clears and I take you down the mountain, I want you to keep Baby with you.”

“Keep her with me? What do you mean?”

She watched the muscles of his face work as he fought to say the words, saw the tic at the side of his jaw and the flash of pain in his eyes. “Keep her. Raise her. She likes you.”

Her reply was barely a whisper. “Keep her?”

He could only nod.

“Oh, Buck! I can’t do that.”

“You don’t want her?”

“I couldn’t take her from you. She’s yours, your blood relation. I know how much you love her.”

He tried to deny it with a shake of his head. “She’s never been anything but trouble. She’ll be better off away from here. I know that now.”

Stunned, Annika tried to fathom the reason behind the words that did not fit the sorrow on his face or the defeated slump of his shoulders. He tried to deny his love for the child even as his strong, work-worn hands toyed with the edge of Baby’s simple gown.

“You’re afraid,” she said.

He looked up quickly, as if to deny her words. “I almost lost her today. I’d rather give her up than have something happen to her.”

“Buck...”

“This is no life for a child and no place to raise one. Baby’ll never have friends or know anyone except hunters like Old Ted, and some of them aren’t fit to talk to. She needs a chance.”

“What about her mother? Maybe if she knew Baby, if she saw her, it might be just what she needs to bring her around to reality. When was the last time she saw Baby?” Annika wondered how any mother who laid eyes on the angelic face of the child could refuse to claim her.

He shook his head. “Baby was two months old. Patsy was pregnant when her man died. She went insane and stayed that way. I thought when she had Baby it would help her, but it only made her worse. That’s why I had to take her away. Ted found the old woman to care for her and I haven’t seen her since I left her there.”