Small Treasures (3 page)

"I think so." Gingerly she sat up, grateful for Samuel's easy strength. She moved her arms and legs, then tilted her head to look up at him. "Nothing seems to be broken." She shifted, then pulled a rung of the chair out from under her behind. "Except the chair."

He frowned and stood up, leaving her to stand under her own power. "You're lucky you didn't break your fool neck. You got no call to be climbin' up on things lookin' into other folks' business."

Abby stood and wobbled only slightly before meeting his glare with one of her own. "Well, if everything in this cabin wasn't built for a giant, I wouldn't have needed to climb up on anything."

He inhaled again, deeply. Once more Abby watched fascinated as his chest grew. "I built everything in this cabin to suit me. I like things to be where I can reach them."

"And where no one else can," she added under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

A scratching at the door broke the uneasy silence between them. Samuel brushed past her, yanked on the latch, and stepped out of the way. Two dogs leapt into the tiny cabin and rushed straight at Abby.

Instinctively she took a step back. Then she stopped. The dogs, despite their looks, obviously had no intention of tearing into her flesh. The bigger of the two looked to be a cross between a wolf and a pony. His gray fur was covered in dirt, and his bark was as deep as he was big. He also had a wooden splint on his left hind leg. It didn't seem to bother him much, though. He simply dragged that limb behind him, crashing and banging into furniture and walls. His companion was so small it was laughable. His white and black mottled fur was missing in places, leaving huge bald patches over his tiny body, and one ear was completely gone. His upper lip was curled up over two jutting teeth, giving him a permanent cocky smile. He was the ugliest dog she'd ever seen.

Delighted with the homely but friendly animals, Abby dropped to her knees and was rewarded with several sloppy kisses on her face. She ran her hands over the dogs' backs and laughed when the little one moved to stand under his friend's body.

"They're wonderful!" she cried to Samuel, who was watching the dogs with a disgusted look on his face. "What are their names?"

Samuel shoved the door closed and jammed his hands into his pockets. Damn fool dogs. Didn't even bother to look at him. So much for loyalty. He fed them and took care of them, but give them one look at a pretty face and they forgot all about him.

A whine from the little dog snapped him out of his thoughts. Moving toward the stove and another cup of coffee, Samuel said, "The little one is Harry. The other is Maverick."

At the sound of their names, both dogs turned to the big man as one. Tongues hanging out, they watched him hopefully as he stood next to the shelf that they knew held food.

Samuel ignored them.

"Harry?" Abby laughed and scratched the tiny dog's chin when he responded to his name. "You named a bald dog Harry?" She looked up at him but turned away at his care less shrug. "And Maverick?" The big dog's tongue took a swipe at her cheek. "What sort of name is that?"

Samuel finished the dregs of his coffee in one long gulp, then tossed the empty cup into the basin. "Just a name. Cattlemen call unbranded or unwanted cows mavericks. Well, nobody wanted him, either."

Abby's face softened as she ran her hand down Maverick's back. "You wanted him," she said softly.

"I didn't want him. I just got him." Samuel's voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, but it was too late to soften it now. "Look, Miss Sutton &mdash"

"Abby."

He sighed. "Look, Abby. It's late. I'm tired." "Yes, I am, too." She pushed herself to her feet and smiled down at the dogs. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to go to bed now." Samuel pushed his hair back from his face.

"That's what I was sayin'."

"Well, fine then." Eyes solemn, she stared up at him. "Where will you be sleeping?"

"Right here."

"Here?" She glanced uneasily at the only bed.

He followed her gaze and grumbled quietly. Quickly he crossed the small cabin, grabbed a blanket from the bed, and threw it onto the floor. "It's too da …dang cold to sleep outside, Abby. I'll take the floor. You take the bed."

"Well," she said, "I suppose that would be all right." Her face brightened as she added, "After all, until the courts decide who really belongs here… the cabin does belong to both of us."

He gave her a look that had been known to frighten grown men. Abby only smiled and reached for her carpetbag. Samuel blew out the lamp and stretched out on the floor. He heard her moving around for a while longer, then finally the familiar squeak of the bed as she lay down.

His eyes screwed tightly shut, Samuel tried to banish the image of the little woman lying in his bed. It had been so long since he'd even spoken to a woman, it wasn't easy for him to ignore her presence. Every time she shifted position or sighed gently into the darkness, he flinched. The quick scrabble of nails on the wood floor followed by a soft whump told Samuel that Harry had joined her on the big bed. He listened to her whispers, straining to make out what she was saying to the little dog, but couldn't quite get it.

Maverick dropped to the floor, curling as closely next to him as his splint would allow. Though Samuel was grateful for the dog's company, he knew, even as his hand moved over the dirty fur, that if not for his broken leg, Maverick, too, would have been in the big bed with Abby.

Coffee. And bacon. Samuel's nose twitched at the delightful odors filling the cabin. A soft, lilting song reached his ears then, and he recognized Abby's voice even though she sang in a whisper. Slowly he opened his eyes, surprised to find it was still dark. He turned his head toward the stove where a lamp, wick turned low, was burning.

Abby moved quietly. There was no wasted motion as she went about morning chores that were obviously familiar to her. He watched in silence as she broke eggs into a frying pan with one hand and with the other turned strips o bacon. In the soft glow of the lamp, Samuel saw her smile and he let his gaze move over her appreciatively. He'd never before awakened to such a lovely image.

Maverick's tail brushed across his nose, and he sneezed in response.

Abby turned to him and grinned. "Good. You're awake. Breakfast is almost ready. Why don't you wash up while I pour you some coffee?"

Gently he pushed the big dog away and propped himself up on his elbows. He stifled the groan that sprang to his lips with the movement. Every bone in his body ached. His neck was stiff, and he rolled his head around, trying to ease the kinks out of it. He must be getting soft. He could remember when he'd had nothing to sleep on except the floor. It hadn't bothered him then.

Slowly he turned to his side and pushed himself to his feet. Hands at the small of his back, Samuel stretched and moved for the door. Outside, the darkness was just beginning to dissipate, dawn only minutes away. He couldn't remember the last time someone had actually risen before him. Even as a child, he'd always been up and moving before his mother. On cattle drives and even through a short stint in the army, Samuel had always been the first to be up and busy. It galled him to admit that Abby had beaten him.

He poured icy water into the basin beside the door and splashed it over his face and neck.

The sting of the cold liquid washed away the last traces of sleep, and as he reached for the dirty towel, Samuel told himself that today he would find away to be rid of Abby. Though something inside him warned that he would miss her, he had to find a way back to his solitude. Back to the lonely life that assured him safety.

Resolutely he went back inside and sat down at the table. He flicked a quick glance at Abby as she poured two cups of coffee. "You didn't have to do all this," he chided her.

"Oh, it's no bother." Abby grinned. "Morning is my favorite time of day."

"It ain't even light out yet."

"I know." She set a plate in front of him, then reached behind her for a bowl that she then placed in the middle of the table. "But I was so excited… I just couldn't help myself from getting up and starting the day."

Samuel's eyes widened with appreciation as he stared down at his laden plate. Six strips of bacon, four eggs, some fried potatoes, and right in front of him, a bowl filled with baking-powder biscuits. His stomach growled and his mouth watered just looking at it all. Maybe it wasn't so bad a thing after all, her helpin' herself to his cabin and supplies. He wasn't much of a cook. Generally, he'd just throw some meat in a pot of water and boil it until it was soft enough to chew. Most mornings he made do with a stick of jerky. He hadn't had a feast like this in years.

As he dug into the food, he asked halfheartedly, "Excited? About what?"

She took a sip of coffee and reached for a biscuit. "Why, it's my first morning in my new home! There's so much to do, Samuel!"

His jaws stopped moving, and he tilted his head to look at her through suspicious eyes. "Do? What is there to do?"

Abby set her cup down and leaned her elbows on the table. Clasping her fingers together tightly, she looked him dead in the eye and said, "First thing to do is clean this place. Honestly, Samuel, I don't know how you can live like this."

He reached for his third biscuit, dipped it into an egg yolk, and popped it into his mouth. "I like it just like it is," he said softly.

"Well, no matter. I'll take care of it," Abby enthused.

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it and reached for another biscuit instead.

"Oh, and Samuel," Abby continued, "I think we'd better fix up that chicken coop. Doesn't it snow up here?"

Samuel's eyes widened again, this time at her assuming manner. "Yeah, it snows up here.

And don't worry about my chickens."

She pushed the biscuit bowl closer to him and smiled when he took another. "Oh, I'm not worried at all, Samuel. I'm sure our chickens will be well cared for this winter. It's only that the roof of the coop looks as though it's ready to cave in any time."

He grabbed the last piece of bacon off his plate and asked, "Why were you out wanderin' around anyway?"

"That's silly." She smiled and shook her head. "I heard the rooster crow and followed the sound to the coop. I had to gather the eggs, after all."

"You didn't have to do a damn thing," he ground out. "The chickens are mine. I take care of them."

Abby reached for the coffeepot and poured him another cup of the steaming brew. "For heaven's sake, Samuel. They're only chickens. I've gathered eggs before, you know."

"No," he said, much too evenly. "I don't know. I don't know a damn thing about you except you showed up out of nowhere, claiming to own my house!"

Her pale eyebrows shot up. "There's no need for you to curse at me, Samuel. I hear very well."

"Sorry." He looked down regretfully at his empty plate, then reached for the last biscuit.

"But I don't want you stumblin' around out side by yourself. Hell — sorry — you'll probably fall off the da… dang mountain."

"Nonsense." Abby grinned at him, not the least put off by his gruff manner. "I can take care of myself." She fed a slice of bacon to each of the dogs and chuckled at their obvious gratitude.

Samuel shook his head slowly, and she heard him mumbling something.

"What was that?"

"Nothin'."

She looked at him speculatively for a moment before shrugging and going on. "I wanted to ask you something, Samuel."

He sighed heavily before saying, "What?"

"I noticed some cages earlier, while I was at the chicken coop. I didn't get a chance yet to go over and look, but I was wondering &mdash

"You stay away from those cages, you hear?"

"Why?"

Samuel scooted his chair back from the table and stood up. Abby had to tilt her head back on her neck to look at him.

"Those are wild critters out there, Abby. Hurt, sick, and scared." His usually shuttered green eyes glared at her meaningfully. "There's no tellin' what they might do to a stranger. You stay clear of them."

"What happened to them?" she asked softly, clearly unbothered by his anger."

Samuel rubbed his hand across his bearded jaw. "Some was shot. Some caught in traps." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Some're just sick."

"Ah, poor things," she murmured. As her gaze locked with his, she asked, "If they're wild, Samuel… why are you safe with them?"

"They know me." He looked away from her and stared out the dirty window. His voice soft, he added, "They know I ain't gonna hurt 'em. They trust me." Suddenly he turned back to her and said on a harsher note, "But they don't know you. There's no tellin' what they might do."

"Well, then," Abby said, standing up, "perhaps it would be best if the animals got used to me right away. You could take me there now, Samuel."

Samuel stood his ground, staring at her. Abby held her breath, waiting for his decision. She noticed the tiny droplets of water still clinging to his beard and straggly hair. She saw the hesitation in his eyes and could sense the difficulty he was having with her request. Then Abby noticed that his lips, almost completely hidden by his beard, were moving. He was mumbling again.

"Samuel?" she said softly.

His green eyes focused on her, but she saw that he'd once again dropped an invisible bar rier between them.

He turned from her and crossed to the far wall. After lifting a rifle from the gun rack near the bed, he bent and picked up a small leather sack. Only then did he look back at her. "I'm goin' huntin'. Low on meat."

"All right. But, Samuel… "

He reached the door and swung around to face her. "Abby, you stay the hell away from those animals. You hear me?" Without waiting for an answer, he whistled for the dogs.

Abby watched as Harry and a limping Maverick hurried out the door after the big man already striding away from the cabin. It took only minutes for him to disappear from sight.

In the sudden stillness Abby slumped down onto the nearest chair. The wood quivered but held. Shaking her head, she looked around her at the cabin. Everything about it, from the walls to the shelves to the furniture, had been built hastily by someone more interested in getting it done than in doing it well. Somehow, Abby felt sure Samuel had built most of the furniture in the cabin. Perhaps he hadn't taken much care with it because he was all alone here.