Willow Smoke (44 page)

“Nope.
But
if
she
wore
out
those
pants
learning
to
ride,
I
expect
if
she
decides
she
wants
to
live
in
my
world,
nothing
and
no
one
will
be
able
to
stop
her.”

Cassie stood. “I bet you’re
right about that. Why don’t we head back? I don’t want
her
thinking
we’re
plotting
a
conspiracy
out
here.
But
be
very
clear
Nicholas
Underwood—she
will
have
to
choose
you.
You
won’t
be
able
to
buy
her
or
cajole
her.
If
you
try
to
guide
her
with
a
tight
rein,
she’ll
toss
her
head
and
bolt.”

Nick
frowned.
“I’ve
learned
that
already.”

As
they
left
the
barn
to
walk
toward
the
house,
Cassie
asked,
“So
have
you
met
Daisy’s
half-sister
yet?”

Nick
stopped
and
looked
down
at
Cassie.
“No,
I
haven’t.
I’d
completely
forgotten
about
her.
Daisy
only
mentioned
her
once
or
twice.”

“That’s
not
surprising.”
She
squinted
at
him
and
the
setting
sun.
“If
you
and
Daisy
do
get
serious,
there’ll
be
trouble
from that corner.”

“How’s
that?”

“Maxine’s
married
to
a
lowlife
bastard.
Reggie
is
a
smalltime
pimp,
drug
dealer
and
who
knows
what
else.
He’s
been
in
and
out
of
prison
a
few
times,
but
nothing
big.
I’ve
threatened
to
turn
Clint
and
his
partner
on
him,
but
Daisy
would
never
forgive
me.
It’s
the
only
blood
family
she
has.”

“So how does that affect
me?”

“Reggie
and
Maxine
have
bloodhound
noses
when
it
comes
to
money.
When
they
find
out
about
you,
they’ll
be
trying
to
figure
out some way to tap
into the
rich man
.
It
could
get
uncomfortable
for
Daisy.
Knowing
Reggie,
it
could
get
downright nasty.
I
only
had
to
meet
him
once
after
Daisy
moved
in
with
us
to
tell
the
bastard
that he
wasn’t welcome on my property or around my family.”

“Sounds
like
a
great
family,”
Nick
responded
sarcastically.
“But
I’m
not
holding
Daisy
responsible
for
her
family,
and
I’m
fairly
good
at
protecting
my
own.”

“I suppose you are, but
Daisy may not turn
to
you
for
help.
There
is
still
a
lot
of
street
in
her.
She’ll
try
to
take
care
of
any
problems
herself
and
will
be
just
as
inclined to protect you as you are to
protect her.”

“Now
that’s
ridiculous.
I
sure
as
hell
don’t
need
protection.
I’ll
whittle
the
punk
down
to
size
if
he
gives
me
the
excuse.”

Cassie
shook
her
head.
“You
don’t
understand.
Reggie
is
lowlife.
He
won’t
stand
up
and
fight
you.
He’ll
threaten
Maxine.
He’ll
threaten
Daisy.
He
might
come
after
you,
but
if
he
does,
it
will
be
in
the
dark
and
you
won’t
see
him.”

For
a
moment,
Nick’s
stomach
knotted
as
it
had
so
often
when
he
and
Tom
Harrison
staked
out
a
target
when
they
were
nineteen and twenty. “I’m pretty good
in
the dark,” he muttered, “if I have to be.”

Cassie
placed
a
hand
on
his
arm.
“Don’t
do
anything
stupid.
Maybe
I
shouldn’t
have said anything. Maybe I’m just an
overly protective mom, but I felt you needed
to
know.
Daisy
wore
out
those
riding
pants
in
part
because
she
wouldn’t
ask
for
help
when
she
needed
it.”

Daisy
inhaled
the
crisp,
clear
air.
She
perched
on
an
outcropping
of
granite
and
stared
across
the
bluest
water
she’d
ever
seen
to
yet
another
island.
There
would
be
another
island
beyond
that
one.
That
was
the
way
it
had
been
for
the
past
three
days
paddling
in
the
Boundary
Waters
Canoe
Area.

Two
spruce
trees
towering
above
her
sang
a
playful
tune
on
the
soft
breeze.
She
held
several
small
pieces
of
red-veined
jasper.
The
area
abounded
with
jasper,
along
with
wildlife,
and
birds,
and
trees,
and
fish.
Things
she
knew
so
very
little
about.

She
set
the
jasper
aside,
pulled
her
knees
to
her
chest
and
fixed
her
gaze
on
Nick,
who
continued
paddling
back
and
forth
in
figure
eights,
in
tight
circles,
then
in
larger
ones.
He
was
running
the
prototype
canoe
through
its
paces
again.
Every
now
and
then
he’d
stop
and
place
small
strips
on
the
bow
of
the
canoe.
While
the
canoe
had
functioned
perfectly
from
her
perspective,
Nick
had
discerned
that
with
a
single
canoeist,
it
planed
a
bit
too
much.
And there
was
the
slightest
of
pulls
to
the
right. He was a perfectionist.

Daisy
rubbed
her
arms
vigorously.
She’d
found
muscles
in
her
arms,
legs
and
back
that
she
never
knew
existed.
Paddling
required
effort.
Although
Nick
did
seventy
percent
of
the
work
along
with
the
steering
from
his
position
in
back
of
the
canoe,
she’d
come
along
fairly
well
and
at
least
contributed
a
decent
share.
And
then
there
was
portaging.
Nick
handled
the
canoe
and
she
carried
much
of
the
gear.

She
looked
across
at
the
horizon.
They’d
driven
through
flat
marsh,
bogs,
and
rather scruffy looking trees to get to the boundary waters. Yet when it
came to
portaging
a
canoe,
there
was
no
flat
land
to
be
found,
and
whether
coming
or
going,
it
was
uphill
or
downhill.

Scratching
at
bites
on
her
bare
legs,
Daisy
tried
to
ignore
the
gnawing
pain.
She
smelled
like
the
inside
of
a
Deets
bottle. There
were
many
unnamed
biting
insects,
but the mosquito stood out as the
most
fierce
and
pesky.
She’d
become
accustomed
to
the
clinging
repellant
odor.
Maybe
because
Nick
smelled
just
as
bad
as
she
did.

Daisy
stood
and
stretched
in
the
warm
mid-afternoon
sunshine.
The
days
warmed
up
nicely,
yet
the
nights
were
surprisingly
chilly.
Splashes
of
red,
orange,
and
yellow
were
everywhere
among
the
many
shades
of
green
spruce
and
pine.
Early
autumn
had
already
arrived,
and
it
was
only
mid-September.
She’d
expected
more
broadleaf trees. Nick had informed her that
they were too far north for most
maples
and
oaks.
Still,
there
was
an
enchanting
amount of color to warm
the spirit.

While
she’d
never
considered
herself
much of
a
religious
person,
standing
on
the
granite
rock
looking
out
over
the
water
onto
the
next
island
made
her
think
of
an e. e. cummings
poem
she’d
had
to
memorize
in
English
class:
I
thank
You
God
for
most
this
amazing
day:
for
the
leaping
greenly
spirits
of
trees
and
a
blue
true
dream
of
sky;
and
for
everything
which
is
natural
which
is
infinite
which
is
yes.

Daisy
breathed
a
yes
embracing
the
sanctuary
in
which
she
stood.
She’d
never
known
such
a
place.
So
wild.
So
serene.
So other worldly. So fundamental. It was
all
of
those
things
and
more.
In
the
middle
of
the
night,
she’d
huddled
closer
to
Nick
listening
to
the
screams
of
a
prey
falling
to
a
more
powerful
or
more
cunning
hunter.

She
was
privy
to
that
balance
of
survival:
who
would
win
and
who
would
lose?
Out
here,
there
were
seldom
additional
opportunities
for
second
or
third
place
finishers. Out here, the
victor didn’t
receive
a
blanket
of
roses,
but
rather
life
and
the
chance
to
hunt
again.
The
loser—she
didn’t
want
to
dwell
on
the
fate
of
the
loser.

“Totally
engrossed?
I
could
have
been
a
bear,” Nick
teased,
encircling
Daisy
from
behind,
rubbing
his
groin
against
her
buttocks.

Daisy
didn’t
startle.
She’d
heard
his approach
and
knew
what
he
would
do.
His
strong
arms
comforted.
Being
here
with
him
had
shown
her
aspects
of
Nick
Underwood
that
she
hadn’t
seen
in
the
city.
He
seemed
less
demanding,
less
hurried—if
anything,
even
more
gentle
and
patient.