Cole's Redemption (Love Amongst the Pines) (7 page)

             
"I'm starving," Cole said as he stumbled to stand beside her.

             
"You shouldn't be out of bed yet!" She darted a glance up at him but quickly looked away. He saw that her hand shook slightly as she pushed the wooden spoon around the pot.

             
"Are you all right?" When she didn't answer, he moved in closer. "I'd offer to do that for you, but your friends in town managed to set me back." He held up his hands in demonstration.

             
"I'm fine," she lied. "I don't need help. Go sit down, and I'll fix you a plate when it's ready."

             
"You don't have to be afraid of me," he told her evenly. "I'd never hurt a woman."

             
Her back stiffened. "I
ain't
afraid of you. I just don't know you very well yet. Besides, Uncle Dermott would kill any man that meant to hurt me. Last week, a neighbor tried to steal one of the mares. Said that we owed it to him for getting water out of the creek. The
ol
' coot's a bully. He thinks because it runs through his property that the water is all his. Wants us to pay for it! Who ever heard of such a thing, paying for water?"

             
"What did your uncle do?" Cole asked, intrigued and glad to move their conversation away from more dangerous subjects.

             
"He snuck over to Lester's property and set his outhouse on fire."

             
"That sounds like serious punishment. I'll remember to try not to make him angry."

             
The object of their conversation came back into the cabin from emptying the bucket. He set it on the floor by the door.

             
"Well, Natty darling, I'm going to the
fishin
' hole. You need me to bring anything back?"

             
"Just some big trout for supper,
Derm
. I'll fix you some apple dumplings later, okay?"

             
"Ah, don't go troubling yourself. I still got some taffy left to chaw on."

             
When they were alone again, Natty set the table and poured them both a glass of water. Next, she ladled up two bowls of stew and pulled some bread out of a box in the corner.

             
For the moment, Cole just watched her. She was the height of efficiency and grace as she quickly finished her tasks. He couldn't help but imagine what a picture she'd make if she was bathed and clothed in decent attire. He found himself curious about what she looked like under the layers of grime.

             
"I guess I'm going to have to feed you," she muttered, breaking the silence between them.

             
"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," he said as she seated herself beside him.

             
"Don't be silly. It's my fault you're here at all." Her voice had a course quality to it, one that he couldn't quite place.

             
"Actually, it isn't.
I was headed to a hanging
,
remember
? If I were grateful to be alive, I'd have you to thank for it."

             
She gave him a small smile. "Your hands must hurt a lot."

             
"Excruciating."  He drew in a breath, "but I imagine there's worse pain than this." 

             
"Are you really sorry that you didn't get hanged?"

             
He thought for a moment. "I suppose not. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It still would be. I certainly wasn't doing anyone any good in my life. Who knows, maybe if I help you here, I might make up for a little of it somehow."

             
"If this doesn't work out, I can take you back into town. I'm sure Sheriff Watkins will have another hanging sometime."

             
Cole grinned. "I can't say that's the best offer I've had in awhile, but it's certainly the most fitting."

             
His new wife stirred the stew and began spooning bites up to him.

             
"Not bad, but I don't recognize the meat. What's in there?" He leaned over the bowl.

             
"It's squirrel.
There's usually a few
of them around. Except for last winter. I swear we
musta
' ate every crawling thing in a square mile of here. If it weren't for Dermott's fishing, we would have starved."

             
In a flash of memory, Cole thought of his mother's house, remembering the huge, festive meals that his family had enjoyed.

             
Suddenly, he felt guilty that his heritage had given him so many abundant luxuries while this skinny girl had gone without for most of her life.

             
"I guess I'm not that hungry after all," he told her.

             
"You don't like it. I know I'm not a very good cook. It doesn't really bother me that much and Uncle Dermott, he forgets when I burn the stew, or the bread's got too much salt in it."

             
"No. It's not that. My stomach's a little queasy from the pain."

             
"I hadn't thought of that.  It must be unbearable."

             
"Nothing I can't stand. I just need another drink of water and maybe I could lie down awhile."

             
"Sure." She brought the glass forward and very patiently held it for him while he took two long swallows.

             
"I guess I have quite a lot to thank you for," he stated quietly.

             
"It's me who should be thanking you. We have a chance to make something of this mine. I just know if we go deep enough, we'll find the silver."

             
"I hope so," he said, and he meant it.

             
Natty watched husband sleep.
Well, she didn't exactly feel right calling him her husband. She'd settled into the rocking chair next to his cot, mending her only dress while she observed him.

             
He certainly is a handsome man, she thought, all long bones and firm muscle.

             
So different he was from all of the men she'd ever known. He didn't have the bent figure like her Uncle Dermott or the tall stringiness of her own father.

             
Even for the few short hours she'd known him, she'd found him to be smart and quick minded.  She had to admit to a certain curiosity about just what he did look like under his cotton shirt and drawers. If she tilted her head sideways, she could just make out the bit of flesh under the loosened shirtfront. She could see a patch of thick, dark hair that nestled there.
             

             
That little spot intrigued her enough to set down her sewing and lean forward.

             
Natty's
heart quickened just thinking about what it might feel like to touch him.

             
Guiltily looking around, she scooted silently forward. Reaching out, she paused, her fingers just inches from touching the skin of his chest. A sweat broke out on her forehead as she hesitated. She knew it wasn't polite to touch him if she wasn't invited, but her curiosity got the best of her.

             
Natty gently placed her hand on his breastbone, absorbing the smooth warmth that emanated from him. She thought it must feel like touching the sun. She trailed her hand down the length of a rib. He was solid muscle upon bone.

             
Leaning closer still, she caught the scent of him. He smelled like leather and pine, a bit of unwashed male, and something else.
A spice, perhaps.
One that she couldn't readily identify but would know instantly as him if she ever came across it.
She closed her eyes, trying to envision what he would feel like in other places.

             
Barely eighteen years old, there were parts to a man that Natty hadn't ever seen. Never before had she been quite so interested in learning what lay beneath a man's clothes.

             
Well, not just any man, but this man. Cole
Remmington
was an enigma. He was a thread she wanted to unravel so badly it stabbed at her, causing a sharp ache in her chest. And yet, she sensed he was an intensely private person. She thought she might die of curiosity before she'd ever violate his secrets.

             
What was it the judge had said? Something was eating away at his insides? For all her life, Natty couldn't imagine what it was that could make a person want to die. Even with all the tragedies of her life these last years, she had not fallen so low as to wish it all over. Was there any way she could convince Cole that life was worth living? Could any one thing or person, make him want to go on? She didn't have an answer except that she was damn well determined to try.

             
"What are you doing?" His deep throaty tone startled her.

             
Natty pulled her hand back like she'd been snake-bit. Sitting up straight, she squared her shoulders, feigning innocence of any wrongdoing.

             
"I, um, I was just checking to see if you had a fever is all."

"Do I have one?"

"One what?" She paused, and then quickly added, "
you
mean a fever. Do you have a fever?
Uh, no.
Not yet, anyway." She felt her own skin heat up in embarrassment.

             
"Good." He struggled at sitting up for a moment.

             
"Here, let me help you." In an instant, she was helping him to sit up, carefully avoiding his broken hands.

             
"How long have I been asleep?"

             
"A couple of hours. You needed the rest. I imagine it's been a rough couple of days for you."

             
He gave her a small frown. "I've had better. To be honest, I've had worse." He shrugged. "I'm sorry I can't go to work right away. There's no way for me to earn my keep."

             
"Don't worry about it. The silver's been here a long time, it'll wait."

             
She couldn't help the nervous laugh that slipped out. A renewed heat came over her. Though she tried to look away his gaze held her like a vise. She couldn't suppress a shiver when she finally broke contact. Her attention went to the white linen bandage laying just inches from her own smaller, red skinned hand.

             
"But, I do worry, Natalie. I've never been one to walk away from work. I don't mean to let a woman do it for me."

             
"I never meant..."

             
"It doesn't matter. I want you to know I didn't kill those men because I was shiftless or lazy. It was just something that needed doing. Now, it's done. I won't ever kill again."

             
She looked for a moment at the lump of beige cloth that covered his wounds. "I need to change those bandages. It's too bad life
ain't
that way. You know, if something got dirty, we could just peel it off and clean it up again."

             
The hint of a smile crossed his mouth. "It would be nice if that were so. But people don't forget, and when it comes to the things I've done in my life, they rarely forgive."

             
"Well, some people maybe but not all people. You just haven't met up with the right sort, I guess."

             
He nodded and laid his head back, closing his eyes. "I hope you're right, Natalie."

             
With the pain of her ministrations, Cole drifted in and out of

his
thoughts like a cork bobbing on top of the water. But even in the haze of discomfort, he couldn't lose the feeling that the two of them had begun creating a bridge between them.

             
So badly he'd wanted to ask her. "Are you the right sort, Natalie?" But, his own cowardice kept him silent. He truly didn't know if he'd have been more afraid if she'd have told him yes than no. If she
was
unyielding in her empathy, it would hurt like hell. If she'd said that she was capable of forgiveness then he'd be more terrified that he'd end up hurting her.

             
Cole kept his eyes closed while a silent Natty went about the work of changing his bandages. Finally, she blew out a heavy breath.

             
"That bad, huh?" He said finally as she wrapped the clean cloth around his right hand.