Deborah Camp (31 page)

They shared a laugh, but Tucker’s laughter died away as he took the spear from her.

“I don’t like this, Copper. One night they’ll do more than leave warnings at the door.”

“This isn’t anything to worry about.” She pointed to the tracks in the snow. “The prints are small. Boys did this. They’re probably on a spiritual journey and this is their test of courage. It has nothing to do with you being here, Tucker. Ever since I’ve been living in this cabin, these things have happened. I pay them no heed.” She took the spear from him, lifted one knee, and snapped the spear in half over her thigh. Then she dropped the two pieces in the snow. “Child’s play.”

“I wish they’d leave you be.” He flung his head back and the flash of anger dissipated. “I wish there was something I could do about it, too. Maybe I should send my wishes to the stars. Have you ever wished on a star, Copper?”

She shook her head.

“I guess it’s not a Crow custom.” He released a low whistle of appreciation. “Look at that sky, will you?” He turned his head to watch her reaction to the celestial delights. Drawn by her beauty, he stepped behind her and looped his arms around her small waist. She tipped her head back onto his shoulder and crossed her arms on top of his.

Sentry and Patrol trotted into view, tongues hanging out, tails wagging after their adventure.

“How did you earn such devotion from your
animals?” Tucker asked in a soft whisper that stirred the hair at her temple.

“By loving them and being good to them. They know I depend on them and they want to please me.”

“The same could be said for me. Would you show me some of that loving, Copper?”

“You don’t depend on me anymore. We both know that.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. I’m only following your lead. I doubt if I could survive out here on my own.”

“You should never doubt yourself. You’re resourceful and smart.”

“What about loving me, Copper? Couldn’t you close your eyes and pretend I’m Patrol … or better yet, Ranger. You dote on that foul-tempered pinto. Dote on me instead.” He nuzzled the side of her neck and smiled when she tilted her head sideways to give him better access. “Don’t mind if I do.” He dropped tiny kisses down the length of her neck and breathed in the perfumes of sage, lilac, and woman.

“Micah has kissed me, but not like you kiss me. I felt an impatience in Micah’s kisses. Stands Tall was impatient, too. But he hardly ever kissed me.”

“God, how could he keep from it? I want to kiss every nook and cranny of you.”

“You confuse me. I think … that is, I’m worried—”

“Don’t think and don’t worry. I ache for you. Don’t you ache just a little for me?” He tightened his arms around her and nudged her with his pelvis. “Just a little?”

“Yes, yes.” She closed her eyes against the blazing sky. “But I remember how it was …”

“Think of how it could be instead.” His lips grazed her cheek. “I could lift you up until you touch the stars, Copper. Let me take you there.”

She made a humming sound in her throat as indecision
unraveled and his soft, sweet kisses lured her to the brink of surrender. Gently, he turned her to face him. His hands spanned her waist and his lips rested ever so lightly on hers.

“Kiss me, Copper,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’m begging you. Please, kiss me.”

She hadn’t the will or the inclination to refuse him. Parting her lips, she rose up to press her mouth to his. His groan of satisfaction lent her courage and she passed her tongue across his lips. He held her closer, his heartbeat racing with hers. An impulse so strong that it might have been an ancient directive sent her tongue into his mouth to court his. The confluence of their mouths and tongues was a pleasure she could not have anticipated or even imagined. The intensity of it made her moan, forced her eyes shut, liquified her knees, and created a wanton, greedy creature of her. She slanted her mouth over his until the fit was tight and tempestuous.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Copper thought she might faint from the strength of wanting that surged through her body. Tucker matched her fervor. His tongue stroked hers, darting in and out, planting a restlessness in her for something more. She flattened her midsection to his. His hands cupped her hips, caressing and molding her against the hard, thick evidence of his desire.

Somehow they moved into the cabin without breaking contact. She felt the warmth of the fire at her back. Tucker tore his mouth from hers and began unlacing the front of her dress with trembling hands. Copper pushed one hand through his ruffled hair and gazed at his glistening mouth. She kissed it again, marveling at the wonderful taste of him and the potency of his tongue caresses.

“I’ve got to have you,” he murmured, pulling the dress off her shoulders. He filled his hands with her muslin-covered breasts and dropped to his knees before her. “I won’t hurt you.”

His promise had the opposite effect of its intention. Suddenly, the dark memories of blood and pain and humiliation swarmed over Copper again, and she stiffened and was all atremble. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to beat those memories into submission, but felt them beat her instead.

Tucker felt the change in her. From his knees, he looked up at her stricken expression. He groaned, recognizing that look. “Copper, don’t deny me.” It was a request, not an order.

Tears spilled to stripe her cheeks. “I want this black curse lifted from me. Believe me I do. But it’s there, shadowing my heart, spreading gloom in my head.” Her voice began to shake and she paused to measure her composure. She knew she was perilously close to sobbing aloud. “I know what you want and I realize that I want to give it to you.”

“Well, then? Well, then?” he said, tightening his hands at her waist and giving her a little shake.

“I want to give it with a true and willing heart—not a trembling, bitter one.”

“Just let me love you and I’ll lift that black cloud.”

A fresh crop of tears made her eyes swim. Tucker tasted defeat. Fury came on its heels. Surging to his feet, he whirled away from her and looked for an outlet for his unprecedented frustration. Balling his hands into fists, he rammed the door again and again, rattling it and setting the dogs outside to frenzied barking.

“Tucker! Tucker, stop it! Please, please, no, don’t do this.” Copper fell on him and pulled at his arm, trying to make him stop pounding the door, but he didn’t cease until he was limp and slightly humiliated.

“I hate him. I wish this door was his face and I could bloody it.”

“Look what you’ve done.” Copper lifted his hand. The skin over his knuckles was split. Blood
oozed from the wounds. “Oh, Tucker. You make me ashamed.” She kissed his bloody knuckles.

Tucker looked at her as pain spread through his hand. Flecks of his blood dotted her lips. He pulled his hand from hers and reached for his heavy buffalo coat. Valor began to wail, shaken awake by the commotion.

“Tucker?”

“I’m sorry I woke up Valor. Better see to her. I’m sleeping outside in the stables,” he explained, going to the bunks and removing the blanket from his.

“No, you don’t have to.”

“Copper, I’ve stretched my tolerance to the limit.”

“You hate me.”

He shrugged into the coat and laughed humorlessly. His green eyes were void of their usual light. “If only it were that simple. Believe it or not, I don’t want you if you aren’t willing. Completely willing. With another woman, it would be different. I’d indulge myself. But not with you, Copper.” He smiled, but didn’t feel it anywhere except on his lips. Pain burned across his knuckles, giving him something else to feel besides his own blazing frustration. “I’m tired of forcing your hand. If you want me, you can have me. Your decision, sugar. G’night.”

S
unlight swam over the choppy water. Copper braced a washboard against a rock and picked up a ball of wet, blue wool. She shook out the shirt, located the drops of dried blood from Tucker’s split knuckles, and rubbed up and down the corrugated tin, putting her shoulders and back into it. The stubborn stain reminded her of that night two weeks ago when Tucker had taken his bedroll to the stables. Her hands stung from the cold water and her knees protested being ground into the pebbles at the edge of the stream. She glanced toward the laundry basket, now empty of laundry and full of Valor. The baby waved her fists as a bee tried to light on her nose.

“That bee thinks you’re sweet and it’s right,” Copper said, laughing lightly.

The freshly washed clothes fluttered from bushes and tree limbs as the breeze dried them. The sounds of melting snow echoed from every branch as the sun beamed through the clouds. A bee buzzed past her and darted into a hollow tree. Bees were stirring. Could spring be far behind? Copper sat back and surveyed the area. She counted the weeks, the months, and realized with a start that it must be the waning days of March. Perhaps even the first days of April. Spring would advance in the next few weeks. A short season in these mountains, spring would be gone by the
middle of May and summer would blaze in June. By then Tucker would be gone, too. Just like spring.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” she murmured, but a voice inside suggested that his departure might be for the best.

She couldn’t ignore his intense frustration over their current relationship. She missed his soft snoring above her and the rustling of bedclothes when he turned in his sleep. She missed him talking in his sleep, usually barking military orders. He had been a soldier so long it was ingrained in him and he couldn’t escape even in his dreams. A couple of times she knew he’d relived the horror of the Gros Ventre attack because he’d screamed himself awake and then had taken himself outside to walk off his cold sweats. She’d pretended not to be awakened by his nightmares, sensing that he didn’t want to talk about it with her as a matter of pride. And he was a man of enormous pride.

He’d brushed off her attempts to doctor his bruised knuckles. He’d wrapped them with a piece of cloth and wouldn’t even let her take a look at them. They had shared meals and little else. Their war, like the weather, was a cold one. Maybe the warmer weather would thaw them out, too.

Or would it be like this during the rest of their days together? she wondered dismally. Would their meals continue to be eaten in polite environs and would he retire to the stables right after he’d dried the dishes?

She shuddered at the cold, colorless picture. Holding up the washed shirt, she imagined him filling it. Then she imagined taking it off him, flinging it to one side, and running her hands over his chest. Hairy chest. She’d never been with a man with a hairy chest. Sadness crept over her, clouding the sunny day. Lately, she’d slept little and cried often. She felt gray and dull and—angry.

Tucker was right about Stands Tall still beating her, still controlling her actions, still keeping her firmly under his thumb. Damn him! No, damn her! Why was she allowing Stands Tall to reach up from hell and direct her life?

Patrol yipped in the distance, the sound he made when he’d treed something. A rifle barked. Patrol and Sentry whined with excitement. Copper gazed to the east from where the noise originated, guessing that Tucker had shot game. Fowl or perhaps an opossum. Whatever it was, she hoped he dressed it out himself. The dogs had gradually befriended him and went along on his hunts, always eager to sniff out game and scare up pheasant and quail. While they weren’t as affectionate with him as they were with her, they were happy to please him and receive his words of encouragement and have their ears scratched.

Copper pushed herself up. Her legs tingled, having fallen asleep, and she walked unsteadily to a bush where she draped the blue shirt and anchored it among the sticky branches. The breeze scampered, making the clothes flutter, swaying the branches above, masking the furious rustling behind her and the heavy thumping of huge paws. The roar whirled her around. Copper’s heart lodged in her throat as she tipped back her head to stare at the glistening white teeth of a grizzly.

Valor cooed and gurgled, her voice incongruous with the snorting of the brown-black bear. The grizzly stood on its hind legs and waved its front paws in warning swipes, its long claws glinting yellow in the sun. Its gamely stench surrounded Copper and one corner of her mind told her that the bear’s hibernation had been interrupted and that the full-grown griz wasn’t happy about it. Had the rifle shots disturbed it?

The griz roared again and swung its massive head and upper body. Copper’s gaze skittered to the rifle, propped beside the washboard near the
basket where she’d left her child. Valor began to fret. The bear breathed heavily and fixed its beady eyes on Copper, sizing her up and surely finding her a puny annoyance. Valor kicked and let out a shriek of irritation. Copper’s blood ran cold when the griz swung its attention to the basket.

“Hey! Hey there, bear!” Copper held her hands over her head, regaining the bear’s angry gaze. She swallowed her fear and faced the messenger of her death. The bear was revered and there would be no shame for her to die from wounds it inflicted. Her mind grasped at her Crow teachings and her heart found solace in the Absaroka spiritual beliefs.

She gauged the distance to the rifle and doubted she could make it before the griz lashed out and sent her sprawling. Although the bears were big and seemed clumsy, Copper knew they were quick and powerful. One solid slap could cave in a man’s face or snap a neck like a twig. Valor sent up a long cry, earning the bear’s attention again. Panicked, Copper took a threatening step toward the griz and the bear rose to its full height and roared.

“Stay away from her, you devil!” Copper’s muscles bunched as she visualized her sprint for the rifle, no matter what the cost to her. Valor had to be saved.

She tensed to spring, but a boom split the air and the griz roared again, this time in pain. Crimson blossomed on its right shoulder. It spun around, flinging drops of blood, to face its new enemy. Smoke curled from the double-barreled shotgun Tucker leveled on the frenzied bear. He stood several yards away in a break in the piney woods, his face ghostly white, his eyes feverish with purpose. He fired the second barrel as the griz focused on him and started forward.