LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy Page 11

  Bear chuckled as he watched her trying to wipe the snow away. “When there is snow on the trees above, it is better not to look up too often.”

  “Now you tell me!” Linsey started walking toward him as she wiped the snow away.

  “I would have told you sooner if you had asked.”

  A grin split his face as he turned and continued down the trail. With the fur once again in position tightly around her neck, Linsey watched the broad back in front of her. Enjoying the fresh air on his head, Bear had not pulled the hood of his coat in place, and she contemplated her actions only briefly before bending and grabbing a handful of snow. She formed it into a good-size ball and lobbed it toward his unprotected head, bending for another glob of snow as the first one left her hand.

  The snowball hit the back of his head with a satisfying plop, and as he turned to face his attacker, another one, also intended for the back of his head, hit him squarely in the face.

  “I … I didn’t think you’d turn so quickly,” Linsey said in way of an apology as she took a few steps backward. “I meant it to hit your head, not your face.” Bear wiped the snow away, fighting not to let his amusement show. The look on her face was so horrified he wanted to throw his head back and roar with laughter. But not yet. …

  “So you want to play, eh, my snow bunny?” He bent and grabbed a handful of snow. Before she could turn, a well-aimed snowball hit her face.

  “No fair!” Linsey yelled as she wiped her face a second time. “It was an accident!”

  “An accident that you threw a snowball?” he asked as he made another one. “Or an accident that your aim was better than you thought it would be?”

  Linsey turned in time to prevent his next missile from landing in her face. Instead it hit the side of her head, falling harmlessly against the heavy fur.

  “You realize you just declared war, don’t you?” She bent, and grabbed a handful of snow. She threw carefully, but it landed several feet short of its destination.

  The fight quickly escalated into a full-blown war. Few of Linsey’s poorly constructed missiles found their way to her opponent, while few of Bear’s missed. He was careful that he didn’t pack the snow too tightly, wanting them to land and splinter instead of hurting. It had been years since he’d had a snowball fight. Not since that long-ago time when he had been a child for such a few short years.

  “I yield!” Linsey yelled as another glob of snow dripped down her neck. The only exposed part of her body was her face, and each of his snowballs had landed on or near it, most of the snow finding its way inside her coat.

  “Surrender?” Bear threw again and chuckled at her squeal.

  “Never!” A quickly thrown ball fell short. “I surrender to no man!”

  “Then to the death!” Bear pelted her with several more snowballs.

  “I yield! I yield!” Laughing, Linsey turned and started running back down the trail toward the cabin.

  A few steps and Bear caught up with her. Linsey’s leather shoes slipped on the slick ground, and when he tried to prevent her fall, they both tumbled into the snow.

  Using a small portion of his weight, Bear carefully held her down, but the contest was done. His dark eyes were lost in the picture of her. Her cheeks were rosy, the tip of her nose red. Her eyes sparkled with the brilliance no emerald could ever claim, and her hair had come unbound, lying flame bright against the white backdrop.

  She giggled helplessly, her breath coming in short spurts and gasps. When her eyes met his, the giggles abruptly ceased, but the breath came no easier to her lungs.

  The harsh light of day showed her more clearly than ever the scars that marred the perfection of his face. Freeing a hand from beneath his chest, she traced the hardened ridges from their beginning in his hair to the edge of his jaw. She lightly touched each scar and ran her fingers across them, finding the height of the ridges and the depth of the valleys between.

  How lucky he had been not to have lost an eye, she thought, lightly touching the edge of his brow. She traced a line down to the edge of his mouth, her finger following the outline of his lips.

  Bear lay perfectly still above her, supporting his weight so that he did not crush her. His agitation showed only in the depth of his breathing. He closed his eyes so that he did not have to see the expression in hers. Be it pity, revulsion, disgust, they were not the emotions he wanted from her.

  Linsey almost moaned at the thought of the pain he had endured. How had he survived such damage? She knew that the scars were on his body as well as his face. Were there also hidden scars? Scars of hatred because of the destruction of something once so perfect?

  Her gaze moved to the other side of his face. Only a few hours earlier, when she had watched with avid curiosity as he shaved, she had wanted to turn her eyes away from the contortions he had made as he worked on the damaged side of his face. She had not wanted him to see the fear in her eyes — fear that he would seriously cut himself and cause more pain. The wholly masculine activity had fascinated her even as she feared for him.

  She compared the two sides of his face. The finely arched brows were the same as were the long lashes that lay against his cheeks. As if dividing good from evil, his high-bridged, slightly off-center nose separated the two sides. She remembered the softness of his lips against hers as she stared at his firm, well-shaped mouth.

  When she remained still and did not speak, Bear knew he had to open his eyes, force himself to look at her. His eyes, so dark and troubled, met hers and found an emotion as unexpected as it was surprising. Tenderness shined from her as a gentle smile rested on her lips.

  “Do you plan to keep me here until I surrender?” she asked impishly. “I must warn you that if that is your intention, we will slowly die of starvation, for I will never surrender.”

  “You will not surrender, but you will yield?” He felt off balance at her abrupt return to their game. He had expected pity or repugnance; she was giving him teasing smiles and gentle touches.

  “Your aim is far better than mine, I yield.”

  A smile crossed his face, one that had started at his toes and spread its warming strength through his body before finding its way to his mouth. “Perhaps my aim is better because I don’t let a giggle interfere.”

  “But you laughed! I heard you!”

  “Yes, little one.” His voice deepened, the smile lingering only in his eyes. “With you I think I will always find much to laugh about.”

  Linsey lifted a hand and once more traced the scars. “Did it hurt very badly?” she asked softly.

  “I have had other things hint much worse and for far longer.”

  “I wish I could take all your hurts away,” she whispered.

  Bear closed his eyes. He already knew she would bring her own form of pain to him … in the spring.

  The quiet mood was interrupted as the coldness of the ground finally penetrated Linsey’s thick fur coat. Bear felt the shivering of the form beneath his and stood, pulling her up with him.

  “You are cold,” he stated, wrapping the coat securely around her. “We will go back and get warm.” It felt natural to both of them to walk toward the cabin hand in hand. Bear shortened his stride so that she had no trouble keeping up with him. Overhead, the sun shone brightly; the snow crunched loudly beneath their feet.

  “Waging war sure makes a man hungry.”

  “Fm so glad to hear you say that. Fm starving!”

  “Good, we’ll eat our noon meal a little early today.”

  “You cook.”

  A shudder rippled through his massive body. “Of course!”

  Kaleb left the three cabins behind him as he headed down the trail toward the river. Three families had carved their spot in the wilderness. Clearing the land and building their one-room log cabins, they had started their own future.

  Guardedly welcoming strangers, anxious for any news that might be filtered to them, they were careful to protect what they had sacrificed so much to build.

  Kal
eb felt a deep envy for what they had, for the goals they had set and worked endlessly to achieve. He had once built the same kind of dreams; but they had crumbled to dust at his feet, and his life now had only one purpose.

  Revenge.

  He was getting closer. Each settlement or trading post he stopped at had seen Jeb and Zeke. He used as much patience in tracking them as he used in tracking game. It was a contest of wits … with no doubt as to the winner.

  Reaching the river, Kaleb pulled the canoe firmly onto shore. He had discovered that Jeb and Zeke were now on foot, so he could no longer use the river. He shouldered his pack and walked away from the canoe without looking back. The people at the settlement had said he could leave it on shore, but he had little hope of ever seeing it again. It was well made, carefully crafted. Someone would see it and take it for their own.

  He had little regret at losing the canoe. If he lived, he could build another one.

  His long muscular legs easily ate up the miles, the limp hardly noticeable. The heavy pack was a familiar weight on his back. It was a big wilderness, and he had only a vague idea of the direction they had taken; but he would find them. Then his revenge would begin. He had not spent four years searching to give up now that he was so close.

  “They’ll pay with their lives fer what they did to you, Mary,” Kaleb whispered to the face in his mind. “They’ll suffer fer what they did to us… . I will make certain they welcome their death long before it comes.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Linsey discovered that playing in the snow with the abandonment of a mischievous child made it difficult to remember simple table manners. When Bear placed the plate of food in front of her, she ate as if she were starved. And, she was relieved to see, so did he.

  When it came time to clean up, Linsey volunteered to wash the dishes, using some liquid soap that had a light wild flower fragrance. Bear told her how the Indians made it out of roots and used it for anything that needed to be washed.

  Linsey made careful note of where he stored it so that she would not have to ask. In the back of her mind played the idea that at the first opportunity she would use it — on herself.

  “Get your coat and we’ll take another walk. If someone behaves herself, we may get a little farther than we did this morning.”

  “Are you implying that I prevented us from taking a walk this morning?”

  “You threw the first snowball.”

  “But you started the war!”

  “How so?”

  “You threw the second one, therefore I had no choice but to defend myself.”

  “Your logic escapes me.” He shook his head. “Blame me if you must, but get your coat.”

  Not waiting for another invitation, Linsey grabbed her coat, swung it around her shoulders and stood waiting at the door for him.

  “Don’t you even want to know where we’re going?” he asked as he pulled on his heavy fur coat, picked up his rifle and opened the door.

  “Hunting?” Linsey nodded toward the gun.

  “Nope.”

  “Then, why take your rifle?”

  “Because, little one, you never know who, or what, you might meet on the trail. In this land it is best to be prepared for anything.”

  He easily carried the heavy, long rifle in his right hand, careful to keep Linsey on his left and slightly behind him. Should it become necessary, Bear would not hesitate to put himself between her and unexpected trouble.

  The world was covered in a glittering blanket of white, drifted deep in some places while nearly bare ground showed in others. As the trail sloped downward, Linsey found it more and more difficult to maintain her balance. Her slick leather shoes were not made for walking on the slippery snow. When she started to fall, Bear reached for her hand, supporting her until she regained her balance. Instead of releasing her hand, he twined his long fingers through hers, and as always, she felt comforted by his firm grasp.

  They walked quietly, the only sounds the gentle rustle of the breeze through the trees and the crunch of snow beneath their feet. Linsey was not concerned with their destination. She was content to follow Bear wherever he led, placing her trust in him without question.

  The trees parted suddenly, and they were standing on a slight incline. Nestled in a deep hollow was a settlement with hundreds of houses, placed in orderly rows, one beside the other. From most of the structures, smoke drifted in a ghostly dance until it merged with the blue of the sky, “Why didn’t you tell me you lived so near a settlement?” Linsey stared with wide-eyed wonder at the quiet setting, noticing how neatly laid-out it was. The houses were built differently than those she was accustomed to in Philadelphia. They were long, low, windowless structures with thatched roofs. Skins were stretched on a frame to make the doors of the mud-colored dwellings. There were fenced fields and garden spots behind most of the houses, with well-defined roads weaving throughout.

  From their vantage point, they could see the entire settlement that seemed to stretch endlessly. In one of the fields, several small children were playing in the snow. Slipping and sliding, their game appeared to have no rules except that it be enjoyed by participants as well as spectators. The high-pitched screams and squeals drifted to them, and Linsey smiled at their obvious pleasure.

  “Maybe I can talk the children into forming an army, and we’ll challenge you to a battle,” Linsey teased, eager to meet Bear’s neighbors.

  “You and all of them against only me?” Bear raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at her. “Doesn’t sound like fair odds to me.”

  “Depends on whose side you’re on. From my point of view, twenty or so to one sounds fair.”

  “But you’re the twenty or so, I’m the one!”

  Linsey scanned his massive form and pretended to shudder. “Maybe it would be better if I enlist more than those few children down there before I engage you in battle!”

  “There is no need for anyone but you, Timid Deer. I have seen you battle Wolf. I surrender!”

  Linsey blushed, remembering the anger she had felt and shown. She turned her eyes again to the settlement. Several adults had joined the children, and even from this distance she could see that the adults were willing to let the children defeat them. She wasn’t sure when she finally realized what she was seeing. No one thing stood out to give her a clue; rather it was a series of small things. The few words that drifted up to them were not English or any of the foreign languages she had heard throughout her life. The sun shone brightly on tiny, uncovered heads, clearly showing no golds or reds. There was no shine from leather shoes, no sparkle of frilly white drawers.

  “They’re Indians.” It was a statement of fact from a voice almost paralyzed by fear. For nearly as far as she could see were the neat fields and strange houses. “Thousands and thousands of Indians.”

  “Not nearly that many,” Bear replied, unaware of the terror building in the woman beside him. “Several hundred, maybe, but not thousands.”

  Linsey dropped his hand and started backing away. Bear turned when he realized she had moved, and saw the stark horror on her face. Her eyes remained glued on the scene below as every evil she had ever heard replayed through her mind. He had brought her to an Indian village! To the very home of the savage!

  “Linsey, come to me.” Bear held out his hand, hoping his voice would penetrate her terror. “Come to me, little one.” He prepared to spring should she turn and run. Too many things could happen to her in her present frame of mind should she panic.

  Linsey tore her eyes away from the village and saw his hand reaching out to her. Like a light in the dark, it offered security, protection.

  She threw herself into his arms, buried her face in the thick fur coat and held on to him as if her life depended on him.

  “Easy, mon ange, there is nothing here to hurt you.” Through the thickness of her cape, he could feel the shuddering of her body.

  “Take me home. Please, Bear, take me home!” Bear glanced around them. To
the side of the trail was a large boulder, clear of snow. He bent and picked her up, carrying her to the clearing. When he tried to put her down, Linsey tightened her hold until he was forced to sit with her on his lap.

  “Is your fear because of the Indians?”

  Linsey nodded, her face still deeply buried in his coat.

  The hood of her coat had fallen back, and Bear rubbed a cheek against the softness of her hair. “They are people just like you or me.”

  Linsey shook her head violently. “Savages!”

  “Only because their lifestyle is different from ours do they seem savage to strangers.”

  “They torture innocent people!”

  Bear was glad she couldn’t see the smile crossing his face as he remembered her anger when Wolf had not tortured her. “There is an old lady down there. Her name has been forgotten, and everyone calls her Grandmother. She is so old that all of her family has died. She is a highly respected member of the tribe, not only because of her age, but because of her wisdom. The only torture I have ever known her to commit was when she doctored me.” His big body shook with revulsion. “I was feverish and everything else had failed. She forced me to drink a concoction that would have made your broth taste good!”

  Linsey almost smiled. Nothing could have made her broth edible.

  “There’s a man who has six daughters and no sons. He married three times hoping that one of his wives would give him a son. He is the one who is tortured every day because his wives don’t like each other and occasionally forget to hide it from him.”

  “Three wives!” She raised her head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “It is one of their customs. There is a lot of work involved in just living from day to day, so if a man can provide for them, he is allowed more than one wife. Usually the wives get along fine; but sometimes the man is not careful in his choices, and it can become very uncomfortable around his house. I have heard his voice raised in pleading prayer with Manitou to give him the strength to deal with so many females.”