LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy Page 4

  She raised her head when Kaleb handed her a piece of jerky for their evening meal. Hungry as she was, Linsey found little strength to chew the dried meat.

  “Please, can’t you light a fire?” she pleaded through lips that would have trembled had it not been for her clenched teeth.

  “Nope.”

  “Why?” Tentacles of long red hair reached out from beneath the hood of her cape, grasping at her face as if they possessed a will of their own. She made no effort to smooth them back, too tired and cold to care. “I’m freezing.”

  “Better cold than dead,” he replied. “Injuns.”

  Linsey looked around the rapidly darkening area, suddenly forgetting her fatigue and the cold temperature. “Here?”

  The old man did not try to hide a smile. “Little gal, we’ve been a’walkin’ their huntin’ ground since we hid the canoe.”

  Linsey began to shiver uncontrollably, more from fear than from the cold. For two days she had unknowingly followed Kaleb deeper and deeper into Indian territory. Savages! Dirty, filthy Indians! Everyone knew of the stories about their treatment of white captives.

  As a child Linsey had spent hours with an older cousin who had filled her impressionable mind with vivid details of savage tortures and cruelties. When the eleven-year-old cousin refused to tell her what was done to the women captives, saying it was too horrible for her ears, the six-year-old Linsey did not realize that he knew little about what he spoke. In her eyes he was an adult, and she did not know that his exaggerations were mostly from his imagination. Now, at the age of nineteen, nothing had been done to erase the memories he had created, and she knew if she were captured her death would be slow in coming.

  The fear she had known as a captive of Jeb and Zeke’s could not begin to rival the sheer terror that coursed through her now. True, she had once stared across the river and had even wanted to flee to the Indians rather than face the fate Jeb had planned for her, but she would never have attempted it.

  Linsey stared at the night-hidden figure across from her and wanted to beg and plead with him to take her safely back to her home. Experience had taught her it would be useless. Instead, she sat mutely, shivering with the cold and the terror that filled her.

  “The Bear has a cabin pert near in the Injun village,” Kaleb offered as he prepared for sleep. “Some be a ‘sayin’ he’s part Injun hisself. I ain’t knowin’ fer certain; but I do know he’s friendly-like with ‘em, and if’n they knows you’re his woman, they won’t be a botherin’ us none.”

  Night sounds, familiar since the beginning of her nightmare journey, now became strange and magnified in her imagination. Knowing she would not sleep, she wrapped the blanket and fur more snugly around her. The night grew bitterly cold, and the wind seemed to find each hidden fold, creeping between them and chilling her further. Leaning against a tree, Linsey dozed, awakening when her exhausted body began to slump to the ground. As the night crawled past, Kaleb’s snores and the lonely whistle of the wind through the trees kept companions with her terrified thoughts.

  By late afternoon of the second full day of walking, a light snow began to fall. Linsey’s lack of sleep the night before and five days of hard travel made it impossible for her to keep pace with the seasoned trapper. More than once she lost sight of him completely, and only her fear of the Indians kept her walking. When the cabin came into sight, she was beyond caring. She followed Kaleb inside and dropped onto a chair at the table while he started a fire.

  “Bear must be a’checkin’ his traps,” Kaleb commented when the fire was burning merrily. “Should be back in a day or so now that hits fixin’ to blow up a good storm.”

  Folding her arms on the table, Linsey lowered her head. The heat from the fire began to warm her, and the trembling that had threatened to overtake her body slowly stopped. She willed her eyes to remain open, and her stomach protested noisily when the smell of stew began to fill the room.

  She slowly raised her head at Kaleb’s next words.

  “I’ll be a’headin’ back. Tell Bear we’s even now. Kaleb Smith don’t be a’owen him no more.”

  Her thoughts were sluggish as she watched him once more shoulder his pack. When he cradled his rifle in his arms and started toward the door, she finally realized just what he had said.

  “Wait a minute!” Panic exploded through her. “You can’t just leave me here!”

  “I brung ya to the Bear. Past time for me to be a makin’ winter camp.” He reached for the rope that latched the door.

  “But… but what about the Indians? You said their village was just a short distance away.” Attempting to stand, Linsey tripped over her skirt and her uncooperative legs.

  “Gal, they ain’t gonna bother ya none,” he replied with a hint of exasperation. “Stay inside and keep the fire goin’ so’s ya don’t freeze. If’n the Injuns was to come out in the snow — which they ain’t — you’re in the cabin of the Bear, and they just ain’t gonna bother ya.” With a final nod, he pulled open the door and walked into the light snow.

  “Shouldn’t you wait here until the snow stops?” Linsey followed him a few steps outside. Being stranded in a cabin with the old man was preferable to staying by herself this close to an Indian village, not to mention waiting alone for the unknown Bear to return.

  Kaleb looked at the light dusting of white on the ground and at the gray sky. He breathed deeply and knew there was the smell of snow in the air. He looked back at the frightened girl in the doorway. If he stayed with her until after the storm, it might be too late. After four years of searching, he was too close to stop now. Jeb would do his best to leave no trail to follow, but Kaleb knew, if he had to, he’d track Jeb to the ends of the earth. He convinced himself that Linsey would be all right in the cabin by herself. Bear would return soon.

  Soon, Mary, he whispered to the gentle image in his mind as he shifted his pack slightly. “Looks like hits a bad one cornin’. I can be back at the river tomorrow. You’ll do fine till Bear gets back.”

  Linsey watched her hopes disappear with him into the woods. It had taken them two full days of walking to reach the cabin, and yet he expected to be back to the river in only one. Had she slowed him down that much?

  The snow blowing in her face made Linsey realize she was still standing outside. Reluctantly she walked back into the cabin, shutting the door behind her.

  It was a small, one-room structure with a huge bed against one wall. On the opposite wall was a fireplace, and a table with two chairs sat in the center. An iron pot was suspended on a hook over the fire. As the stew began to warm, its delicious smells filled the room, reminding her needlessly that it had been days since she had eaten anything other than the dry jerky.

  Using a piece of wood, Linsey swung the pot out of reach of the fire. She found a plate on a shelf beside the fireplace and heaped the stew onto it. A pan of water steamed beside the fire, but not knowing how to make coffee, she was forced to drink hot water.

  Sitting at the table, her eyes drifted closed as the comfort of the fire, a full stomach and exhaustion took their toll. Her head snapped up abruptly; she had to stay awake. She had to keep the fire going. But more importantly, she had to watch for Indians!

  Linsey stood and began to pace the room. Twelve steps from the fireplace to the edge of the bed; twelve steps to return. She pulled at the filthy dress clinging to her and eyed the pan of warm water. It had been weeks since she had washed more than her face and hands. It would feel heavenly to be clean again … maybe it would help her stay awake.

  Quickly undressing, she folded her torn chemise and dipped it into the water, washing as best she could. It would never substitute for a real bath, but it helped to remove some of the layers of grime.

  As the cool air danced over her damp skin, Linsey realized she had no clothing other than the filthy dress lying in a heap on the dirt floor. Refusing to even consider putting it back on, she walked to the bed and wrapped herself in one of the wool blankets. It was rough and scratchy, b
ut it would have to do for now.

  Once more pacing the room, her eyes were drawn almost magnetically to the bed. A real bed! After weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, it looked too good to be true. She couldn’t sleep, not with the ever present threat of Indians, but perhaps she could just sit on it, bundling up in the furs and blankets. She hesitated only briefly before climbing onto the bed.

  The furs swallowed her in their softness. Sitting cross-legged, wrapped in a blanket, Linsey watched the burning fire. She could hear the storm intensify outside and was grateful for the security the cabin offered.

  Warm, pleasantly full, cleaner than she had been in weeks, she could almost be content… .

  Linsey’s eyes slowly closed, and her head nodded. She felt herself falling and snapped her eyes open. But it felt so good, lying in the furs. She stretched her legs and wrapped more of the coverings over her.

  She would not — could not — sleep. She had to stay awake. She had to be prepared in case of Indians.

  Her eyes drifted closed. Sighing deeply, Linsey snuggled down in the softness and found a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Wiggling beneath the furs, Linsey wondered why her maid, Betsy, had not lit the morning fire. Her room was usually toasty warm before she rose. She decided to stay in bed; Betsy must have overslept. She’d come soon.

  Suddenly Linsey remembered. She was not in her room with its silk wall hangings and velvet draperies. Betsy would not come bounding cheerfully in at any moment, chattering while she efficiently made a fire. She was alone, in a cabin deep in the wilderness, surrounded by Indians. A cabin owned by an unknown man whose very name held the power to frighten fearless men.

  Peeking from under the furs, Linsey saw that the door was standing wide open and snow had blown in during the night. The fire was cold ashes, the stew once more frozen solid.

  The frigid air began to creep beneath the furs, forcing her to face the facts. The door was standing open, no one was around to close it but herself, and if she did not get a fire started, she would freeze to death. With a moan she climbed out of the warm nest, dragging one of the heavy furs with her.

  The snow had thickened during the night and was now falling in fat, fluffy flakes. Linsey curled her toes away from the cold snow melting beneath her bare feet, bitterly regretting that she had removed her shoes and stockings. Shivering, disgusted because the snow blocked the door, she knelt and began clearing it away. By the time she finished, her hands were red and numb from the cold.

  Linsey latched the door securely and blew on her hands. Wrapping the heavy fur around her, she turned toward the fireplace. Somehow she had to get a fire started, but how? It was not a requisite for graduation for the young ladies who attended Miss Mary Sarah Holland’s School of Completion. Linsey could sew the most delicate of seams; she could sing and accompany herself on the pianoforte. She knew to the smallest detail how to plan a party and how to graciously instruct servants about their duties. She knew exactly how much material, lace and trim to order when designing a ball gown.

  She could not start a fire.

  Trying to remember what Kaleb had done the night before, Linsey piled heavy pieces of wood onto the cold ashes. After numerous tries, she managed to get a weak spark from the flint and steel, but to her frustration no roaring, warming flame followed.

  The wind blew fiercely against the walls of the cabin, whistling through each hidden crack in the mud and clay chinking between the logs. Linsey could no longer stop her teeth from chattering, and her body shook uncontrollably. Each time she moved to strike flint against steel, the heavy fur slipped from her shoulders. She struggled to find the strength to pull it back into place.

  Perspiration beaded her brow even as the frigid air teased around her. After what seemed like hours, she helplessly admitted defeat and climbed wearily to her feet. Dragging the fur with her, she climbed back into the bed, wrapping herself in the blankets and furs, praying for just a little warmth.

  Linsey dozed off and on during the day, waking to find she had kicked off the covers while fleeing the terrors of her nightmares and was once again shaking from the bone chilling cold. Snuggling beneath the furs yet again, she waited for the warmth to comfort her, drifting into the nether world of unconsciousness.

  When the cold again penetrated her sleep, she opened her eyes to total darkness. It took long minutes of concentration for her to remember where she was and to realize that night had come.

  She ignored the grumblings of her stomach as it protested its lack of nourishment, and carelessly pulled the furs beneath her chin. Her eyes closed, fear of savage Indians swept from her mind.

  It was mid-morning before Kaleb reached the river. He had walked until darkness and the falling snow had forced him to stop. He was too near his goal now to risk getting lost in the vast wilderness and die from the cold.

  Wasting no time in uncovering the canoe, he pushed it into the river and jumped into the back. Turning it into the swiftly flowing current, he headed back the way he had come. The river fought his passing, making each mile seem like three as he used every ounce of his strength to paddle against the strong current.

  By late afternoon, Kaleb knew he had no choice but to seek shelter. Sweating heavily from the exertion of fighting the current, he shivered each time the bitter wind crept into the folds of his coat. Squinting through the haze that lay thickly on the river, he searched for the long familiar landmarks that would lead him to cover.

  Kaleb found the entrance to the nearly hidden stream that branched off the river and maneuvered the canoe past the overhanging branches. With a less strong current to fight, his paddling became easier, but with fewer trees overhead the snow fell thicker. It took the rest of the afternoon for him to find the lean-to he had constructed years earlier and used only occasionally. As an early evening turned the gray sky to black, Kaleb pulled up on shore, carefully secured the canoe and shouldered his heavy pack.

  Inside, the lean-to was total darkness, but he moved with sure memory and soon had a small fire warming the tiny structure. Kaleb fed the fire from an ever ready stack of dry wood at the back of the lean-to and cursed the fates that let him get so near before forcing him to stop.

  For four years he had searched — a search that had taken him far and more than once should have cost him his life. He had known only their names, not their faces. It rankled that they had crossed his path once before but he had not known them for who they were. Now, through pure chance, he had found his enemy; he knew their faces. But for the early blizzard he would have begun his revenge.

  The wind blew against the sides of the lean-to, and the fire danced in the darkness. He took some satisfaction from knowing they, too, would have to wait out the storm. As the blazing wood turned to glowing ashes, Kaleb Smith promised himself that Jeb and Zeke would never know spring.

  Only by instinct and an overpowering will to survive was Luc LeClerc able to continue toward the promise of warmth. The unseasonably early blizzard had caught him unprepared several days from his cabin. He fluently cursed his own stupidity in three languages. His years of living with the Shawnee as well as being an experienced trapper had taught him to always be prepared for the unexpected.

  Luc smiled grimly to himself as he walked head down. If he froze to death, the fault rested solely on his own shoulders. The signs of a storm had been clearly evident when he had been only a day away from the cabin, but he had chosen to ignore them. When the first gentle snow flakes had started to fall, he had cursed vividly but continued to set traps and check the ones already in place. By the time he started his journey back, the flakes were no longer gentle, and now he stumbled with exhaustion still more than two miles from the protection of his cabin.

  His journey had been successful; several small animals had been in his traps. Their fur was not yet as thick as it would be later in the winter and therefore not as valuable, but the meat from the carcasses would be welcome.

  If he lived long enough to eat it.

  Doggedl
y, he trudged on, constantly looking for the familiar landmarks to guide him home. It was too late to stop and make shelter. He knew that he would be frozen before he could build a fire and make the protection of some kind of a lean-to.

  His grim smile deepened. His Shawnee family would shake their heads sadly when they found his frozen body. They would wonder where they had failed and why he had not learned the simple lessons they had shared with him.

  As darkness descended the storm intensified. The snow began to fall so thickly Luc could see only a few feet in front of him. Knowing that the cabin was just a short distance away, he determinedly continued, hoping that he had not strayed off the path in the blinding storm.

  Watching as he put one foot in front of the other, he almost missed the cabin. It was only when he ran into the side of the structure that he realized he was home.

  Using his hand as a guide along the outside wall, Luc walked to the door, pulling on the rope that released the guard bar inside. He stumbled into the room, discovering it was nearly as cold as the outside had been, but the promise of warmth beckoned.

  Luc knelt wearily at the fireplace. In the gloom he saw the haphazardly stacked wood. Instantly alert, he reached for a small log with one hand and grabbed for the knife at his hip with the other. Moving in a blur of speed, Luc rose, turned and pulled the knife free. Fully prepared to face an unfriendly intruder, his alert gaze wandered around the room. There was no one in sight and no place large enough for a man to hide. When he was satisfied that there was no danger, he replaced the knife and turned again to the fire.

  Sweeping aside the large logs, Luc replaced them with kindling. His only concern once more was the warmth now within his reach. A small spark turned to a golden blaze, and he added the larger logs slowly. He was careful to keep his frozen hands from the fire, knowing if he warmed them too quickly he risked losing them.