Come Spring (39 page)

She came close to the bed and drew the edge of her silken sleeve across his face. His shivering intensified. Leaning over him, he could feel her chilly breath upon his cheek. Once more the words she uttered were those of the Egyptian queen. “We’ll bury him; and then, what’s brave, what’s noble, Let’s do it after the high Roman fashion and make death proud to take us.”

In that moment, Buck knew he was about to die.

L
ATE
afternoon sunlight streamed through the curtains, creating a delicate pattern upon the octagonal tile floor of the bathroom. Annika leaned back in the tall, ornate tub and tried to soak the stiffness out of her aching joints. As soon as Rose left her with Buttons in the guest room, Annika had taken her cue from the child and napped for the rest of the afternoon. Now, after she’d bathed Buttons and turned her over to Rose, it was Annika’s turn to pamper herself. She relished every precious moment, pausing to inhale the heady fragrance of the rose bath crystals that scented the water, lathering the soft soap into a thick foam, spreading it over her limbs.

She scrubbed and scrubbed her hair until she felt as if she had washed away the trying experience of the last two days with the dirt. Finally, when the water had cooled and she began to feel guilty for leaving Rose at the mercy of Baby Buttons for so long, Annika stood up slowly so she wouldn’t slosh the water over the sides of the tub. She reached for the thick Turkish towel Rose had left folded over a towel bar for her.

As she patted herself dry, she thought back to two nights before when she had lain in Buck’s arms and enjoyed his touch. Frowning, she wondered exactly when he would arrive, for she wanted to be certain she was with Kase when the two men met for the first time. The expression she’d seen in her brother’s eyes warned her that nothing good would come of their first exchange if she was not there to temper it. * Kase would be too furious to listen to reason—Buck too tight-lipped to explain.

She toweled her hair until it was no longer dripping, then hung up the towel. From the hat tree in the corner of the tiled room she took down her own violet silk robe that Rose had so thoughtfully left there. Rose had been certain she would be rescued.

Annika wanted to protest that she hadn’t, in the end, needed rescuing, but she didn’t yet trust her sister-in-law to keep such news from Kase. She needed to talk to Rose, to speak honestly and share her experiences with another woman, but she didn’t know her brother’s wife well enough to know whether or not to open up to her. Wondering if she might eventually share her secrets with Rose, she padded down the hall barefooted to the guest room.

Compared to the cabin in Blue Creek Valley, the small room was a palace. The high four-poster was covered with a buttercup spread. Ruffled pillows were mounded high against the headboard, and matching curtains hung at the windows. Her clothes hung in the tall oak armoire; the perfumes and ribbons she’d packed were all lined up and ready for her on the chest of drawers.

She walked over and reached out to touch the fine silks and satins hanging side by side in rainbow hues. They had been purchased by a girl with nothing more to worry about than what she should wear, not a woman whose heart was torn by indecision and longing. Two months had passed since she’d had her grand possessions with her and in that time she realized she didn’t really need any of them. The coat Buck had labored over hung amid the gowns, the contrast one that only called to mind the differences between Buck and her. As she let her hand fall away from the striped gown she was fingering, she knew she would give all of it away if she could only see him again.

As she stood before the mirror and pulled up the lace-edged collar of her silk robe, she wondered what Buck would say if he could see her now. He would probably shake his head and tell her that he knew he was right, that she needed a life of comfort more than she needed him. She ran her fingers through her hair to untangle it, then absentmindedly picked up her ivory comb and began to work it through the wet strands.

She studied herself in the mirror. Did the change in her show? Could anyone tell she had given her virginity to the man who had carried her away? Would they understand if she told them that she was no longer the sheltered girl who thought she knew all there was to know of the world and of her place in it? That she had been given a glimpse of a life she might have never even imagined, nor would she have wanted to, but that now she was considering embracing that life and the man who went with it?

The sound of Buttons’s laughter drifted up the stairs. Annika smiled when she heard it. She wondered what Buck would say when he saw the child dressed in the finery Rose ordered for her. Zach had returned to Busted Heel with a list of things to have sent out for Buttons to wear and Rose had made him promise to bring them back by tomorrow. For now Rose had chosen one of her own soft blouses and had cut it down into a long, nightshirt affair tied with a wide pink ribbon sash. Buttons agreed to wear it while her satin dress and the one ragged one Annika packed were drying.

Annika’s old chocolate wool suit lay in a heap by the door. There was nothing to salvage of it, and so she planned to throw it away. Still, when she looked at the suit, she couldn’t help but be reminded of all that had passed in the last two months. Despite the hardship, the confusion, and doubt, her days at Blue Creek had been some of the best of her life.

She walked over to the window to watch the sun slip behind the mountains and wondered if Buck was out there somewhere watching the sunset, too. Hopefully, darkness would spur him on.

   20   

I
T
was his worst hallucination yet.

The thing stood on Buck’s chest. The size of a rat, it had moist, bulging eyes that shifted nervously from behind a short snout of a nose that emitted snorting noises. Uneven black whiskers sprouted out on either side of the snout. Spindly matchstick legs looked about to collapse under the half-bald, bedraggled fur body that shook with unceasing tremors. The creature opened its mouth, emitting the horrid scent of dog breath and licked him across the lips.

Buck grimaced and turned his face away, trying to escape the slimy wet tongue. “Get off me, Mouse.” He tried to bat the Chihuahua away, but barely had the strength to raise his arm.

He heard a shuffling sound and turned his head in time to see Old Ted approach the bed. The man reached down, scooped up the little dog, and shoved it inside his jacket. “’Bout time you woke up.”

“I’m not dead?”

“Not unless the dead started talkin’ and I ain’t heard about it, you ain’t. You look like you been to hell and back, though.”

There was coffee boiling, the scent mingling with one he couldn’t quite place. He tried to raise his head, but fell back against the pillow. “I can’t seem to move.”

“Fever drained you of your strength. I got some vittles ready, if you feel like eatin’. Can ya sit up, or do I have to pull you up?”

Buck tried, then admitted defeat. “I need help.”

Grudgingly, Old Ted bent over him, grunting and groaning until he’d dragged Buck’s big body into a sitting position. He straightened the pillow and then stepped back. “What’da ya want?”

“What have you got?”

“Smoked elk, biscuits, gravy, coffee.”

“A biscuit and coffee.”

Old Ted shuffled back to the table and picked up a plate. He put a biscuit on it, poured a cup of coffee, and set it alongside the bread, and then carried it to Buck. “You’re lucky I came along.”

From the mess scattered around the room, Buck knew Ted had been there more than just a few hours. “How long have I been out?”

“I been here a week. I figure you’d been out a good day or two before I came along. One of your mules had wandered in here lookin’ for a meal.”

“That explains the smell.”

“I tried to clean it up,” Ted admitted.

Buck bit into the biscuit and then slowly took a sip of his coffee. His leg was still throbbing. He didn’t know whether to take it as a good sign or not. At least it hadn’t gone numb, but he was afraid to pull aside the blanket and find it gone black with gangrene.

“What happened?” Ted wanted to know.

“Cat. Mountain lion. I downed a deer and the cat wanted a piece. I was in the way.”

Ted cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at Buck. “So where’s the kid?”

It hadn’t hurt because he refused to call her to mind, but now the pain of losing both Baby and Annika ripped through him harder than the mountain lion’s claws. “Gone. The woman took her down the mountain.”

“You let her?”

“I told her to go,” Buck said. Ted didn’t need to know that Annika had left him, crawled away after taking his heart and crushing it as easily as a man crushed a gnat in summer.

“You did?” Ted leaned forward, his ruddy cheeks bobbing. He smoothed his hair flat across his forehead, which was wrinkled in thought.

“More coffee.” Buck held out his cup, hoping to shut the man up. When Ted left to fill it, Buck tried to change the subject. “Fever, huh?”

“You had it bad. Were out of your head when I walked in.” He handed Buck the cup again. “I cleaned out your leg as best as I could and packed it with bread, but it’s still seepin’ under the bandage.”

“Infected?” Buck realized with all-too-certain clarity that he really didn’t care if his leg were infected or not. He didn’t really care about anything at all.

Old Ted shook his head. “I been keepin’ it clean, but it needs sewin’.”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Ted shrugged. “Hands ain’t steady as they used to be.”

Buck set the plate and cup down on the crate beside the bed and then lifted the cover back. He was still in his filthy underwear, but Ted had cut the left leg of the long johns off and had bound the wound with strips of cloth.

“Take it off.”

Ted slowly removed the bandage and the packing.

All things considered, Buck thought, it didn’t look too bad. The lips of the wound were jagged and raw. The middle of the deep slash seeped a watery red but there was no yellow infection present. As he leaned over the wound, Buck felt his head spin. He sat up and shook his head, then closed his eyes. “Get me the cigar box in the chest at the foot of the bed. I’ll sew it up.”

Ted got the box and set it in Buck’s lap. Then he went over to the table and picked up his whiskey crock. He poured a liberal amount in Buck’s coffee cup and held it out to him.

“I’m not drinking that until I’m done sewing,” Buck said shortly.

Ted downed the whiskey himself. “Well, I’m not watchin’ without a drink.”

Buck threaded the needle with the same black thread he’d used on Annika’s face.
Don’t think about her.
He bent over his own leg and before he could stop to think of the pain he was about to inflict upon himself, he pushed the needle through his flesh.

Ted walked to the other side of the room and sat down.

Sweat beaded across Buck’s forehead and upper lip as he slowly, steadily sewed up his wound. By the time his thigh was pieced back together, he was as near to fainting as a man can get without actually keeling over. He cut the last stitch with the scissors and then, hands shaking, set the box aside.

“I’ll take that whiskey now.” His voice was weak.

“Here.” Ted already had one poured for him. He pulled up a chair and sat down. He began rubbing the ears of the little dog that peered nervously at Buck from inside his master’s jacket. “You want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Buck hoped his forbidding expression would shut Ted up. But it didn’t.

“’Bout the woman leaving. Takin’ the kid.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“I saw a lot of tracks outside the cabin when I got here. Hard to hide anything in tore-up muddy ground.”

“I said—”

“You said she went down the mountain. I asked how.”

“Her being here was a mistake. She left when the thaw came, that’s all. I was out hunting.”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothin’: Just hmmm.” Ted swilled more whiskey. “She didn’t leave alone.”

Buck stared at him, the cup arrested halfway to his lips. “What are you gettin’ at, old man?”