The Trapper

by Jenna Kernan

  They rode northeast along the far shore, dogged by the wall of smoke. All along the far bank, creatures she never expected could swim now leapt into the river. A bobcat and coyote, mule deer and elk all paddled with noses raised, their movements urgent. Wild turkeys beat past them with clumsy strokes of their giant wings. The birds rose higher and turned off to the north.

  “Should we follow them?” she asked.

  Troy sat with his head cocked. “Listen.”

  She did. At first there was nothing, but then came a distant rumble like far-off thunder.

  He stood on his horse.

  “What are you doing?”

  He raised a hand to shade his eyes.

  She watched him and the smoke in turns. Where the black smoke met the grassland she thought she saw some movement.

  “What is that?”

  His jaw fell and he pressed a hand to his forehead. Stillness changed to frantic motion as he dropped onto his stallion.

  “Ride!” He wheeled his horse about and tugged on the lines to the mules.

  “What is it?”

  “Buffalo—thousands of them and they’re heading right for us.”

  “Buffalo?”

  “A stampede. Now get that horse going like I know she can.” He kicked his heels on the Appaloosa’s sides. Scheherazade leapt to follow without the slightest urging from her.

  Behind them, the wall of charging flesh rushed closer.

  Chapter 19

  He found no cover, no ready trees in which to escape the buffalo. He could see them now, numbering in the thousands and running together before a wall of fire. Impossible to turn them and their width, they stretched beyond his vision in both directions.

  The herd would cross the river and crush them beneath their hooves. He reined in, refusing to waste his energy in a vain attempt to flank them. The line was too wide. He must think of another way.

  “Hurry, Troy, they’re gaining.”

  “Horses can’t outrun buffalo. They don’t have the stamina. I’ve seen herds run for days.”

  “What will we do?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Even if we could outrun them, how will we escape the inferno behind them?” Lena studied the horizon. “We will never escape both.”

  The fire, an idea flickered in the recesses of his mind then leaped to life like a spark on fodder. “That’s it!”

  She drew alongside him and stared at the approaching threat. “I think I would rather be trampled than burn.”

  He grabbed her by the neck and dragged her over for a swift kiss. “We’ll use the fire to turn the herd. Come on.”

  He led the horses and mules back across the river and she followed, rivulets of water running down her skirt as she mounted the bank once more.

  He was off the horse and on his knees clutching his fire-starting gear. In a few minutes he had a thin line of gray smoke and then a flame. Instead of carefully placing it in an earthen pit, he laid his fragile fire on the yellow grass. Smoke billowed as he blew on the flames. Soon the blade ignited.

  “What are you doing? You will kill us both.”

  She tried to wring her skirts on the flame, but he dragged her to the river, then retrieved the horses and brought them into knee-deep water as well. His fire burned in a widening circle of flames. It reached the river and raced along the bank. The wind drove the smoke at them, but the water held back the flames. She held her skirt to her mouth and breathed through the wet fabric. The ground beneath her trembled. She stared through the wall of smoke and fire before her to see the buffalo thundering closer, their outlines hazy through the smoke.

  “Lena, you’re on fire!” Troy dunked her.

  She came up sputtering and inhaled smoke. It burned her lungs and singed the hairs in her nose.

  The horses screamed and reared up. One of the mules broke free and bolted across the river.

  Troy held the other three and his wild-eyed Appaloosa. She grabbed Scheherazade’s muzzle and reins. The herd disappeared in the wall of flames before them.

  Troy soaked a buffalo hide in the river and threw it over her horse’s back and then threw a second over the Appaloosa.

  “Crawl under there,” he ordered.

  She clasped the reins with one hand and squatted in safety with the hide draping her head and stared into the billowing wall of black smoke.

  “What if they run through?”

  “They won’t.”

  Something crashed into the water. Far down the bank the first buffalo exploded into the river, followed by more and more. They forged first on the right and then the left, churning the water with a thousand thrashing legs until the river frothed, like beaten egg whites.

  Scheherazade shrieked and danced. Lena stood to quiet her mare and Troy covered the horses’ heads with a wet hide. Blinded, her Arabian stilled, quivering in silent terror.

  The buffalo charged up the far bank and onto the prairie, merging again as they thundered along. They seemed to cross for hours, beating the ground with thousands of hooves. She stood motionless as the herd rushed by in a moving wall of bellowing brown fur and lolling pink tongues.

  The last of the lot appeared from the smoke, their coats ablaze. The flames doused in the river, showing patches of angry pink skin.

  All about her lay scorched earth. Beyond the flames the approaching fire met and merged with the wall some five hundred feet beyond them. With the buffalo gone, she noticed the roar of hot wind, blasting her like a furnace. She thought of the burning buffalo and sunk in the water to her chin and doused her hair once more. Ash and burning embers drifted down upon them in a scorching shower that sent the mules into a frantic dance.

  She helped Troy soak the buffalo robes and drape them over the mules. The creatures no longer tried to run. They stood trembling, their heads swaddled and their nostrils flaring pink.

  Before her the fire went out. She blinked to be sure her eyes did not deceive her. The smoke and flame separated like a drawing orange curtain. Beyond, the earth was scorched black to the horizon.

  “You set one fire against the other. Brilliant,” she said.

  He smiled and then sunk beneath the river again for a moment.

  “Getting easier to breathe now,” he said.

  The fire raced along the outer circle of remaining grass, meeting the second fire and burning out. Far down the riverbank the flames reached the water.

  “Oh, no.” As she watched, burning embers sailed across the river, pushed by the winds of the fire, and ignited in the dry grass on the far bank.

  She watched in horror as the fire kindled anew and began its awful path of destruction once more.

  Lena stood facing the fire and watched the smoke and flames move on, still astonished at her escape. All around her the black stubble of grass stretched.

  “We should have died here,” she said.

  He wrapped an arm about her. “But we didn’t.”

  “Because of you.” She turned to face him. “You saved my life.”

  “Getting to be a regular habit.”

  She nestled close to his wet shirt. “Each day forward is a gift.”

  He let her cling a while, but did not release his hold on the animals. At last she shivered and he led them to dry land. Together they climbed the bank where they began. He relieved the horses of their blinders and surveyed the destruction.

  “Lost that mule.”

  “Will we go after it?”

  “She’s crushed or burned. Nothing on that side could survive.”

  A shot of fear ripped through her. “Where are my paintings?”

  He grinned. “Don’t worry, Princess. That mule only had my ammunition, trade goods and all our food.”

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost my work.”

  Troy chuckled.

  She realized what she had done and her expression grew apologetic. “Oh, I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean your belongings were less important. We can replace the
m.”

  “Everything’s replaceable, right?”

  She dropped her gaze and he did not pursue his somber musings.

  “Nothing important, I guess. But I will miss that mule.”

  “That could have been us. It would have been, if I had not trusted you. I never would have faced that herd.”

  He sighed. “You did face them, Lena.”

  Her wet skirts clung heavily to her legs and she did not think she could mount up. He scrutinized her a moment and shook his head in dismay.

  “No fuel for a fire. We’ll have to dry out with the sun. Maybe we can ride out of this mess by sunset if we head due east.”

  She rummaged through the packs and found her paintings dry within the oilskin case he made for them. She fingered the soft tips of her sable brushes and smiled, her precious paints were intact.

  Her wardrobe did not fare so well. She elected to change her clothing. Then they rode due east for five miles before she saw the first green blade of grass. He followed a stream until they could no longer see the blackened earth.

  Here they halted and unloaded all the remaining gear. Everything smelled of smoke. She lifted a lock of her hair and sniffed.

  “Oh, I must wash,” she said.

  Troy glanced up from his work of collecting wood. “I’d like to check that wound.”

  A spark ignited in her at the look he sent and she nodded. In all the turbulence of the past several days, she’d quite forgotten about her injury. She rubbed it now and felt a twinge.

  “Call me when you’re ready.” He headed up the bank as she retrieved her rose-scented soap. Her gaze followed him until he disappeared into the cottonwood grove. She hesitated only a moment and then peeled out of her garments. Dressed in only her shift, she lowered the neckline to study the bandage and found it stuck to her wound. She tugged. The sensation made her stomach roll. She stiffened. If she did not do this, he would. After soaking the cloth, she tried again. The bandage peeled free revealing the healing wound, now pink and clean.

  The distasteful task done at last, she waded into waist-deep water and washed the scab, then turned her attention to her hair. After several scrubbings, she still detected a hint of smoke. Well, it would have to do.

  Scheherazade nickered and she turned to note the call was not directed to her, but to Troy’s stallion. The brute tugged vainly upon his lead and her mare walked to the end of hers. Lena frowned. Troy said she was in heat. Had the stallion attacked her mare?

  Doubt nagged.

  The quiver in her belly returned as her mind danced back to the image of the large Appaloosa mounting her small Arabian. She shivered with a shameful thrill at the memory. How had her little horse accommodated the stallion?

  She glanced toward the woods. By all rights she should be dead now. Instead she was alive and free and quivering with anticipation at Troy’s touch.

  In heat.

  Yes, that’s how she felt, burning hot while standing in the cold water.

  Of course she’d noticed Troy’s efforts to avoid any contact between them. It had weighed heavily upon her. The fort might be only days away now. For the first time she noted the yellow leaves already turning toward autumn and recognized this might be her last chance. Soon her father would arrive.

  She loved Troy. Of that she had no doubt. But to act on a doomed love, was that selfish? She knew he did not wish the life she offered and she could hardly blame him. If she made love to him, she might live to regret it. Would she regret not loving him even more?

  She sighed. At last she decided it was selfish to take this step and that she would take it. He had asked her if she did not deserve some happiness. This one small thing she would have for herself if he’d allow it. She would love him and capture that memory like a burning ember on a cold December morning. At that moment, he stepped from the wood as if summoned, his hair wet and clinging to his neck and his arms loaded with several logs. As he sighted her, the load fell to his feet with a clatter.

  From instinct her arms rose up to cover her naked breasts as the stream lapped about her hips. Their gaze met and held. She lowered her arms, offering herself.

  He stalked forward pausing at the water’s edge.

  His voice came in a tortured whisper. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  Like a water sprite, she rose from in the river. His gaze scanned over the perfect torso, hesitating at the clean pink scab bisecting the skin of her sternum.

  She lifted a hand to him and he was lost. He followed her into the water, still wearing his buckskin clothing and moccasins. She smiled.

  His mind flashed messages, tugging to restrain his body like a bit in a horse’s mouth. Go slow. Treat her tenderly. She’s a lady and used to gentle treatment.

  He stood before her now, waiting. His body fully aroused and ready, his mind hesitant. What if he hurt her?

  No, he’d never forgive himself if he did.

  She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, letting her cool fingers trail over the burning flesh of his neck and chest. She paused just below his belt.

  He swept her into his arms, carrying her to the shore and up the bank to set the camp. There he laid her upon his wolf-skin cloak. She sank into the lush fur as he fell to his knees before her.

  She stretched like a cat in the sun and his mouth went dry. He tore at his gear, tossing away powder horn, pouches, bags, holster and knife. Next he dragged his shirt off and threw it on the rest, his hands settling on the lacings of his breeches and he paused, glancing at Lena.

  No, that would frighten her. She smiled up at him as she nestled into the plush furs. He kicked out of his moccasins and stretched out beside her.

  Lena rolled, draping a long, slim leg over his and lifting until her thigh brushed his erect flesh. She licked the shell of his ear and he shuddered with desire. How could such a little thing make his pulse pound like the hooves of stampeding mustangs?

  “My God, but I want you.”

  Her lips drew into a perfect smile, lush and inviting. “Kiss me.”

  He did, gently at first, taking in her scent of smoke and roses. She writhed, delving her fingers into his hair as she demanded more. He pressed her to the earth, deepening their kiss.

  Slowly, he cautioned. Don’t frighten her.

  He moved to kiss her cheek and then stroked the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. She trembled and a satisfaction grew within him. His hand cast over the plane of her stomach and up to the jutting angle of her ribs to settle at last on the outer swell of her breast. A groan of pleasure issued from deep in her throat as he caressed her.

  Both hands now stroked her tender flesh, beginning at her neck and then running up and over the lush territory of her breasts, down the flats of her stomach pausing to scout the narrow canyon of her navel before exploring her hips with feathery strokes.

  She moaned and rocked towards him. He recognized desire blazing in her eyes. She reached for him, but he captured her wrist, laying it gently upon the fur, before kissing her forehead.

  “Slowly, Lena. You must be ready.”

  She squirmed and whined in frustration, and still he resisted the call of her body, returning to gently kiss the soft flesh of her breasts. His tongue flicked out to stroke her nipple and her arms wrapped about him, pulling him close.

  “Please love me. I cannot wait.”

  He slipped his hand down between her legs and found her thighs wet with her readiness. She did not squirm or avoid his exploration, but instead boldly rocked her hips to meet his delving fingers.

  A long sigh escaped her lips and he kissed her again, stroking her tender flesh with one hand as he captured her neck with the other. She lifted herself as he stroked, her breathing becoming frantic. Her fingers gripped the muscles of his back as a cry escaped her. She arched and then collapsed to the furs, exhaling a long shuddering breath into the cool evening air.

  He’d brought her to her pleasure. Satisfaction coiled within him even as his ow
n body throbbed with need, but he would not take her. She was not his, would never be his, not completely. He knew he didn’t have the courage to do what she asked. His pride could not stand it. How could he take her and then let her go?

  Her eyes blinked open and a look of astonishment crossed her features.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “The pleasure a man can give his woman.”

  She smiled. “Did you feel it?”

  He shook his head.

  Confusion knit her brow and then sorrow appeared in rapid succession. “Because you did not join with me. I want you to find your pleasure as well.”

  “I’m not your husband,” he reminded.

  “I do not care. I want you.”

  His little princess. All her life she’d gotten everything she wanted. Why should this be any different?

  He shook his head. “That is a gift for your husband.”

  “My husband may well be twice my age, he may be hairy or hairless or any number of vile possibilities. I wish my first time to be with a man I love. I would marry you if I could. Instead, I give you this bridal gift.”

  Still he hesitated. She brought his fingers to her lips and sucked them. His breathing stopped as his eyes widened.

  “Please,” she begged.

  He rested his forehead upon hers. “Lena, how can I let you go?”

  “We are together now. Do not lose this chance.”

  He rolled away and released the laces of his breeches. She knelt beside him, capturing the buckskin and dragging it down as he lifted his hips. He waited for her reaction at seeing him naked. Her gaze fastened on his groin and he felt his face heat. Her eyes widened a moment and then she tugged his breeches free and tossed them aside.

  She slid along his body like a snake, brushing the soft orbs of her breasts over his thighs as she came, until at last she lay upon him.

  He captured her shoulders and rolled her to her back, slipping his knee between her thighs and pausing when he felt her tense.

  Their gazes met. “Lena, we don’t have to. It’s not too late to turn back.”

  He saw the flash of courage she’d shown on that first day and every day thereafter. He saw the woman he’d grown to love and respect. The woman he would soon lose forever.