Dream Chaser (19 page)

If I could just scare him away
.
But before she
found her footing and
was fully out of the lake, the bear turned and headed back into the woods,
haul
ing
her pack with
what was left of her food with him. Sam
continued to
bark at
the bear
before
limping in
Suzanna
’s direction
.

She
clambered out of the
water
and ran to the dog, who
had stopped and
was trying to lick his shoulder. “Oh, Sam! What were you thinking? Co
me on. Let’s see how badly you’
re hurt.” She coaxed him
closer to
the
water
to clean his wound.
The dog whined and pulled away, then stood quietly while she washed the blood off his fur. With
a blouse that had fallen out of the pack
, she wrapped Sam’s shoulder. Then she dressed in the only
shirt
she had left—ripped at the shoulder when the bear
had explored her sleeping bag
.
She led Sam away from the lake,
dressed in her remaining clothes
.

As they began their trek toward the cabin,
Suzanna looked
over her shoulder every few minutes
to assure herself the bear wasn’t following
them
.
Her tears mixed with sweat as she
continued to
hik
e
through the heat of the day
, the torn brim of her sunhat offering little protection
.

She and Sam stayed
that night on a bare hillock that provided no cover for an animal to sneak up
on them. She watched heat light
ning glow in the dark sky and listened to the howls of what she thought must be coyotes
and prayed were not wolves. She berated herself for not thinking that the ripe fruit might attract a bear.
Sam alternated growls and groans with his snoring, his legs moving as if running
for what seemed half the night
.
Suzanna slept little,
afraid not to keep watch. She realized she must have fallen asleep when Sam’s soft tongue across her cheek roused her in the dark. The moon still hung low in the sky and dawn had just broken through the clouds building on the far horizon.

“Let’s go, Sam,” she said when there was enough light for her to check her compass. Sam moved stiffly with a decided limp, but they
continued their travel
in the direction of
the ranch,
taking
a path through open rangeland wherever possible.
By midday, the sun was beating down, and Suzanna ached with a combination of exhaustion and fear, but she avoided entering a
small copse of trees
where it was likely to be cooler, fearful of encountering another bear. As she rounded a small hill
, she
heard and then
saw cattle
far
ahead of her and realized with a start that the herd was being moved into the high country.
She
edg
ed closer to the trees and
put a hand on
Sam’s ruff
when he woofed softly in the direction of the big animals
. “Let’s not get in the middle of
them, Sammie
.” She readjusted the makeshift bandage on his shoulder, now stiff with dried blood.

As more cattle came into view, several cowboys
rode
on either side of the herd.
One of the
cow
hands
nearest Suzanna’s position slowed when he saw her. He wheeled his horse
away from the c
attle
and galloped back the way he had come
.

Grady, an urgent expression on his face, rode up to Jonathan.

“Bos
s, that lady renter is up ahead …
with her dog.
They look a mess and she’s got some kind of bandage tied around the dog’s leg
.”

“Alert Nate. I may need the first-aid pack.” As Grady rode back toward the chuck wagon, Jonathan spurred Squire and galloped toward where he saw Suzanna, on foot, the brim of her sunhat ripped along one side, the white Samoyed by her side. She was standing at a level spot just past
a small hill.

H
e rode up
, his heart in his throat, fearful that she, too, was hurt. He jumped off the Appaloosa before the big horse came to a full stop
. “
Are you hurt
?” he asked,
trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
Sam’s wound
ed shoulder
, Suzanna’s sunburned face, and the shredded arm of her blouse.
He wanted to take her in his arms, but not here, not where the men would see them … and talk.

She shook her head. “Sam’s the one who’s hurt.”

He
knelt down next to the dog
and
scrutinized the wound
under the bandage.

She edged closer to him.
“He tangled
with a bear,
” Suzanna explained,
her voice strained, one hand fluttering up to her shredded hat brim when he tore his eyes from the dog and looked her over
.

“Looks like he got the worst of the fight.” Jonathan readjusted the bandage
and stood up
.
“What about you?
”
What the hell? Curly’ll tell them to mind their own business.
He pulled her into his arms.

She half-sighed as she clung to him. “I was so scared. I shouldn’t have gone there—to the lake. I thought bears stayed in the woods. But I had no idea…” Her voice caught as she clutched him tighter.

He released her and pointed to her walking stick.
“Is that how you scared
him off?”

“Uh, no.
I picked
it
up when we started for home
—just in case we saw him again
.” She shoved her hair
off her neck
.
“As if it would have done much good.”

“Your blouse here—” H
e
let his hand slide down her shoulder to her elbow,
along the space where the sleeve was
ripped
open.
“
—what’s left of it mak
e
s
me wonder if you were helping Sam protect the camp. That’s what he was doing, right?”

“He tried.” Her eyes were wide as she gazed back at him.
“
I think he got
really
mad when the bear
went for
his kibble bag.” She gave him a wan smile.

“Too bad the kibble wasn’t in a tree.
”

“It was. But the bear—he was so big. He just stood up and pulled it down, along with our apples.” Her voice caught. “Maybe that’s what attracted him.”

“
Where were you when Sam was doing his best to
fight
the bear?”

Her face reddened
—was it sunburn or something else?—as he glanced back at her, her eyes full, her chin quivering slightly before she seemed to tighten her jaw
.

“I was
…” She averted her eyes. “I was
in the lake.”

His blood heated at his imaginings and plunged straight to his groin. He wondered idly if she noticed.
“
Oh
.” He
watche
d her
for a long moment as she rubbed one hand against the other, before he glanced away, determined not to smile, not to let her think he was laughing at her
. “Well, we’re
too
far from the ranch
to make it before dark
.
We
need to get
Sam’s
wound cleaned—”

Her voice rose then, like a mother protecting her child.
“I already did that! How could you think I wouldn’t have done that?”

His voice softened
and he hugged her again
. “I’m sure you did, but Nate has anti
bacterial
salves in the chuck wagon
. We always carry them,
and I suspect you’d prefer a hot meal tonight to whatever is left in your pack.” He looked around for it. “Where
is
your pack?”

“The bear got it. Damn that bear!
He
took—he took
most everything we had,” and she started to tear up again
as she stepped away from him.

“You
’ve
had a bad fright.” He looked around
to check the proximity of the herd before turning back to face her
.
“No gun
either
?”

She glared at him
, refusing to look away, her chin slightly elevated when she admitted,
“No gun. But even if I’d had one, I couldn’t have used it. I might have hit Sam.
He was so brave.” She sniffed and wiped a finger across her cheek. “H
e kept going after the bear’s hind legs. Besides, I wouldn’t have had the gun with me
when he
—
when I—I was
in the
lake—when the bear attacked him.
”
Her eyes focused on something on the ground.

I can imagine.
Jonathan stood up and angled his back so she wouldn’t see his bodily reaction to how he imagined she must have looked splashing toward shore and then trying to scare off the bear. He stifled a smile and kept his voice low and soothing.
“I suspect Mr. Bruin was just interested in your foodstuffs. He probably only went after Sam because he was being pesky. Come on, let’s get you back to camp.” He
walked her
over to his horse.
“You
two were very brave.”

He started to lift her up so she could place a foot in the stirrup, and thought better of it. “I think you’d better sit behind me,” feeling his neck warm and hoping she wouldn’t guess why. He swung his leg over the Appaloosa’s back. “Whoa, Squire. Stand.” He removed his foot from the stirrup and angled the horse to the side of a large stump. When the horse was still, he said, “Give me your hand. If you stand on that stump there, you’ll be able to reach the stirrup.” When she had clambered up behind him on the big horse, he said, “Put your arms around me.”

He was about to lay the reins to one side of Squire’s neck to signal him to head toward the oncoming herd when he pulled the horse to a stop. “Suzanna?”

Her voice was muffled against his back. He suspected she was weeping from the sniffs he heard and the warm dampness he felt through the back of his shirt.

“What?” Her voice had a quiver that reminded him of Christina after she’d skinned a knee.

“You can drop the stick. You’re safe now.” He smiled as the stick fell down and away from the horse. He patted each of her hands as they clutched his sides. “You okay?”

Her head moved against his back, as a sob escaped her throat. “I think I’m having a delayed reaction.” Her trembling hands reached around him and gripped him tightly, an action that brought her breasts against his back as she leaned into him. His groin reacted, and he almost groaned out loud.

He pulled back on the reins. The horse stopped. “Suzanna?”

She must have lifted her head. It no longer pressed against one shoulder blade.

“Would you like me to hold you…until you’re ready, until you feel better?”

She leaned into his back again. “That’s okay.” Her voice quavered. She sniffed again. “I’m fine. Really.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Then let’s find Nate so he can get Sam a bone.”

“Good idea.” She still clung to him, but with less tension than before as the horse began a gentle rocking-horse lope in the direction of the chuck wagon.

That evening before supper
Jonathan
fixed
a sleeping area for
Suzanna
sufficiently away from the chuck wagon
and
the men that she had some privacy. He and Nate cleaned Sam’s wound, declared it to be healing nicely, and tossed the blouse Suzanna had used as a bandage into the fire.
He wanted to stay with her, but deemed it his duty to remain with the men. Her quiet watchfulness told him she was trying not to call attention to herself.

Nate saw to it that she ate
a hot meal
, sitting near him and Curly, her eyes reflecting the flames from the fire around which they all sat. She said little, speaking only when one of the men talked to her. He told the men riding point around the herd to watch for a bear, certain it was a solitary male that had wandered into her camp.