by Grace Walton
“Don’t call me Sweetheart, Honey, or Baby.” Her words were dripping icicles. “Just because you look like a walking Michelangelo’s David doesn’t give you the right to speak to a woman the same way you would a dog. And what makes you think I’d want to go out with you anyway? Some women want more from a man than a great set of pecs and a nice…”
“What are you talking about?” He cut off her tirade.
“I don’t want to go out with you.” It was the best she could do under the scrutiny of his blazing golden eyes.
“Fine.” The words were clipped. “Great.” He started to turn and leave.
Something in the stiff set of his shoulders called out to her. She stopped him. “Gage, I’m sorry, it’s just, well… it’s just.” She was floundering around trying to say something and not being able to say anything.
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Cain-Smith, the rejection won’t kill me.” And he left.
“But it might kill me,” she whispered bleakly to his disappearing back. With a deep sigh she settled back against a rock, and gathered as many of the children as she could together and tucked them under the warm coat. The rest she began covering with leaves. That done, she wrapped her arms around two of the shivering girls and tried to share her body heat.
He knew every move she made because he watched her. He’d never allowed himself to become truly angry. Rage in a man trained to kill was dangerous. But the depth of what he was feeling came close. It was more than anger, it bordered on devastation. She didn’t want him. He realized in a sudden flash of despair, he cared for her. And she’d sent him packing.
A few minutes later he got past the overwhelming emotion. Gage was nothing if not self-controlled. It was one of the reasons he’d made such a stellar Ranger. But ironically, he still felt compelled to watch her lying there in the darkness. As the night stretched on he kept his vigil. The other men snored and grunted in their sleep. Gage laid perfectly still, watching Carrie tremble with the cold. Rationally, he knew there was nothing else he could do for her. And she wouldn’t want his help anyway. She’d made that fact abundantly clear.
But from somewhere deep inside himself he fought the almost consuming urge to go across the camp, gather her in his arms, and keep her warm. He couldn’t do that. Not without risking not only her life, but the lives of all those shivering little girls. So he lay there on the hard frozen ground, as cold and still as the marble statue of David Carrie had alluded to earlier. He kept watch over her because that was all he could do.
The morning of the third day Carrie woke to a light dusting of snow. She was worried the girls might have frostbite so the first thing she did was check them. All around the group she examined childish fingers with stiff ones of her own. She instructed them to tuck their hands into their clothes if possible, next to their skin. She hoped it would help. She’d ask Gage later if she got a chance. As an ex-Ranger, he’d know just the right ways to maintain body heat and preserve life. Although after last night, she didn’t know if he’d even be willing to help her with anything.
The higher the altitude got, the harder the hike was getting for the girls. Ashley, the little girl who had struggled so with her coughing the night before lay asleep under the cover of Gage’s coat. She should be awake with the others. But she wasn’t. Apparently that tablet was very strong. Carrie wondered what would happen if she couldn’t get the little girl to wake up when it was time to start walking again. Well, she thought fatalistically, I can carry her and get the other girls to take turns with the sack of cooking supplies. With that decided, Carrie walked slowly across the clearing towards the stream.
She dipped water from the creek, drank, and stretched seemingly ready to set out for the last day of hiking to the mysterious Conclave all the men bragged about. Even though she felt slightly dizzy and off center she began walking towards the fire. She’d begin making a pot of coffee and frying up the last bit of bacon. She’d been their begrudging cook ever since this awful journey had begun. Never once had she been being offered any of the fruits of her enforced labor. Nor had the girls. Maybe today she’d be able to sneak some of the meat to them. Carrie took great care not to look Gage’s way as she struggled to walk across the camp.
From his place lying by the fire, he was attuned to her every move. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d handled their conversation last night. He’d acted like a spoiled kid. Carrie Cain didn’t want to have anything to do with him. In the cold light of day he remembered why it mattered.
Her rebuff still stung like the end of a red hot poker. He’d felt it with such intensity, he now had a set of five raw wounds in the palms of each of his hands. Every deep dig into his flesh was exactly fingernail shaped. He’d clenched his fists until he’d bled.
He didn’t have an answer as to why she was different from any other woman he’d ever desired. But she was. It defied explanation. Just thinking about her made his pulse jump. The idea that she’d go out with another man and not him was brutal.
Just the thought of another man doing ordinary things for her tangled his mind. Someone else would be opening her car door, helping her into a raincoat, kissing her good night. Acid gnawed at his brain and made him want to howl like a rabid wolf. That’s when he noticed she’d stopped walking to slump against a tree.
She had a hollow eyed feverish look he didn’t like. Every second or two she coughed then pressed a weary hand to her chest as if she was in distress. He could see her labored breathing from across the clearing. Her jumper had somehow gotten wet during the night. Probably it’d been soaked by melting snow. Now it hung heavily around her like a damp shroud.
He needed to go over and check on her. See if she was running a fever. But he couldn’t. He’d already brought too much attention to himself last night when he’d given up the ratty jacket to her. All he could do was stand there impotently and watch her struggle.
He knew he could still get her to safety. It would be harder if she was ill. But he could do it. He could be patient and make his plan work. Carrie seemed to have calmed down considerably since last night. That was good. He could deal with the whole situation better if she was quiet and was willing to follow his orders.
After a short rest she pushed herself away from the tree. It took a while, but she finally made it to the campfire. She stirred the banked fire and added some of the brush Donnie had ordered the girls to gather the night before. In a few minutes a healthy blaze was going. She motioned the girls over to get warm. Frightened they moved to huddle beside her. Leaving them by the fire, Carrie slowly and carefully walked over to where Ashley still lay sleeping. Gathering the coat around the sick girl she struggled to lift the child in her arms. It was an impossible task as Ashley was almost the size of an adult. Carrie frowned with the effort. Her arms felt limp and heavy.
“You want her over by the fire with the rest of them?” Gage’s voice sounded rusty and hard. He was still mad at her. And she didn’t blame him.
But Carrie couldn’t deal with an angry man and a dangerously sick child too. Defeated, she nodded her need for help. Gage easily lifted Ashley in his arms and moved her across the camp. Carrie followed slowly in his wake. He gently lowered the girl to the ground in front of the fire. The other children quickly surrounded her.
“Thank you,” Carrie croaked. She was surprised at the sound of her own voice. She sounded like a sick frog. She tried to clear her throat before she spoke again. “Thank you.” There wasn’t much of an improvement. And for some reason the sound of her voice seemed to make Gage even angrier. She was past caring why.
“Are you running a temperature?” he asked in a low intense voice. For some reason Carrie found the question outrageously funny. She wheezed a little laugh.
“I don’t know, lend me your trusty thermometer and I’ll check.”
Gage scowled and reached out a hand to touch her cheek. Her face was burning up. If looks could have killed, the one he shot her would have laid her out cold on the g
round. That thought made her giggle too, because there was no way she could possibly be colder than she felt at the moment. No way at all.
“Carrie?” He carefully shook her to make her stop laughing. He had to stop her before the other men noticed how strangely she was behaving. Because, he was sure, the way Donnie would handle this situation would be far from kind.
“Carrie?” He tried again as he looked around trying to keep the others in sight. Only one man had awakened and he had headed straight out into the brush to relieve himself.
“Carrie?”
She was having trouble focusing her eyes. They felt hot and dry as if they were filled with scorching sand.
“Carrie?” She heard his voice from somewhere far off in the distance. It sounded funny like an echo and that made her laugh again.
“Stop it.” The words were accompanied by another gentle shake.
“Whaaaa?” Was that her? Surely not? Did she sound like that? It was even worse than the frog.
“Carrie, Sweetheart, you have to be quiet. Do you hear me? You have to be very quiet.” He urged, pulling her into his arms and rubbing her back.
If Carrie had been a cat she would have purred. Being held fast in Gage’s arms was like backing up to a radiator on a cold morning. How did he manage to stay warm out here? She wondered briefly before allowing herself to sink back into the comforting heat of his big body. On second thought, who cared how he stayed warm. As long as he let her stay tucked up like this, he could keep the secret to himself. She lazily closed her eyes. She felt her mind drift away.
Gage savored the feel of her in his arms all the while keeping an eye on the sleeping men. Sounds approaching the camp from the bushes told him that the man who had tramped out there was coming back.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He lowered her to the ground by the blaze and strode away.
“Morning Troy.” Gage’s voice was loud in the dawn stillness.
“Morning Brother.” Troy’s was just as strident.
“Shut up,” groused Donnie from his warm bed.
“Oh, sorry,” Gage yelled unrepentant.
Donnie cursed and rolled over. The others began waking and getting up.
Why am I sitting here? Carrie asked herself. Everything seemed sort of fuzzy and out of focus. Seeing the sack of food supplies she suddenly remembered. Dragging the skillet and coffee pot out she began to make breakfast.
“Now that’s what I like to see,” brayed Donnie as he turned out of his sleeping bag. “Yes sir, I like to see a woman who knows her place.”
Carrie tried to stifle the giggle that burbled up from her throat.
“What you laughing about Teacher Gal?” Donnie always woke up mean and he sure didn’t like the idea that she might be laughing at him.
Carrie’s giggles got wilder and wilder until she collapsed onto her knees laughing.
“I said, what’s so funny,” Donnie snapped.
“I… I… was just thinking that my pla… place… is actually on a runway.” She was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her face. She couldn’t seem to stop.
“Runway- what’s wrong with you woman? Have you done lost your mind?” Donnie walked to stand over her. Carrie could do no more than shake her head.
Gage, who had made sure he was as far away from Carrie as possible now strode back towards her. He couldn’t hear what Donnie was saying. But it was patently clear Carrie was on the edge of delirium and the other man was fuming.
Gage interrupted, “What’s going on?”
Donnie shook his head and spat in the dirt. “Teacher Gal’s gone plumb loco. She thinks she’s an airplane.”
“An airplane,” Gage didn’t know what to make of that statement.
“Yep,” Donnie said.
“No, I said I belonged on a run…” Carrie tittered and tried to correct them.
“Just shut up.” Donnie cut her off. “Just shut up and get my breakfast cooked.”
Carrie, still giggling, nodded and turned to comply.
“You sure you want her to make your grub?” Gage asked.
Donnie scowled, “Yeah, unless you’re offering to do it for her.”
Gage held up his hands in front of his chest and shook his head. “I’m not offering, but if she’s got something catching I don’t want her cooking anything I’m gonna eat.”
“What do you mean catching? Is she sick?”
“Well, take a look at her. She’s as white as lard and she’s as wobbly as a bad set of tires. Don’t you think she’s sick?” Gage replied.
Donnie took a good long look at Carrie. She was really pale and her whole body was shaking. He swore and kicked at a rock.
“She would get sick right before we get to the Conclave,” he said sourly. “What am I gonna do? She don’t look like she could walk a mile at the most.”
“We could rig up some kind of travois and drag her and that other one that’s sick,” Gage mentioned in an offhand sort of way.
“Travois?” Donnie whined. “What in the Sam Hill is a travois?”
“It’s a sort of sled the Indians used to carry their stuff on,” Gage said.
“Injuns huh?” Donnie looked him over suspicious. “How you know about Injun truck? You ain’t no half breed Injun is you?”
From the confused dark corners of her mind Carrie saw Gage’s jaw clench before he answered. She knew from the trial he owed a ranch called the Black Knife and he was a professor of Native Studies. That and his deeply tanned skin, and straight jet hair made his heritage pretty obvious.
“I maybe got some Injun blood way back there somewhere,” he allowed through stiff lips.
“Yeah, I thought you looked like a squaw man.” Sneered Donnie. “We don’t let your kind in the Conclave.”
“Don’t recall asking to be part of your all fired Conclave.” Gage’s words were even.
“Donnie will you and him stop it?” nagged Troy. “If the woman’s too sick to cook, then I will. It’s getting colder by the minute and you’re sitting there yammering with the Aryan Brother about something that probably happened 100 years ago. I know the Prophet is picky about us in the Conclave having pure blood, but look at his eyes Donnie. Even the Teacher Gal’s eyes ain’t that light. No way an Injun’s got eyes like that.
Donnie searched Gage’s face and nodded. “You’re right Troy. I’m just getting edgy cause the woman is sick and we’ve still got a whole day’s trail ahead of us.”
He turned and held out his hand to Gage in an abrupt about face. “I’m sorry Brother. If you could rig up one of them Injun things you was talking about to haul the woman and the puny girl, I’d be appreciating it.”
Gage knew better than to trust him. Men like Donnie didn’t apologize. And they didn’t change their bigoted opinions quickly. Instead of challenging the kidnapper, Gage chose to bide his time.
“Sure. I can hustle up a travois in five or ten minutes.” He turned to stride out of the camp. As soon as Gage was out of sight Donnie slapped Troy a punishing blow across the face.
“You shut up from now on, you hear me? He’s an Injun pure and simple. Aryan Brotherhood, my hind end.” He snorted. “Something stinks about that big Injun. I don’t know what, but he’s not out here looking for a stray horse. And he sure as Hades ain’t an Aryan Brother. Those suckers are more hardcore than we are. They’d never let a half breed in.”
“Well, let’s shoot him and get it over with,” Leroy suggested from the fire.
Carrie heard it all and tensed as Donnie took his time answering.
“No you idiot, we ain’t gonna kill him, yet. He’s the only one who knows how to make that sled to get the females to the Conclave. And besides that, the Prophet’s been talking about us needing somebody to do the grunt work.”
Leroy didn’t understand. “You mean like a slave.”
Donnie nodded, warming to the idea, “Yeah why not? The Bible has a good bit to say about slaves obeying their masters. Why shouldn’t we have a slave or two?”
> Chapter Six
He smelled the smoke before he saw it drifting over the treetops in the distance. It wasn’t just one fire, but a whole encampment’s worth. They must be getting close to the Conclave. He walked into the forest. He’d let them get there and get settled before he made his move. Gage had heard a search helicopter once in the middle of the night. The others had slept through the distant low metallic drone. He knew he needed to make his move soon. He dreaded it.
He selected several saplings from the undergrowth and lashed them together to form a rudimentary travois. Dragging it back into the camp, he saw that Carrie had fallen asleep near the fire. At least he hoped it was just sleep. The men were wolfing down the last of their provisions as Leroy cleaned the black skillet with dirt.
“That’s a right dandy set up you got there,” Donnie complimented.
“It’ll do,” was all Gage said. He laid it flat next to Carrie. “Who’s gonna pull her?” he asked as if he didn’t care.
“Well… seeing as how you made the rig, why don’t you do the honors?” It wasn’t a request. Gage didn’t seem to notice the little man had just given him an order.
“Sure thing Donnie.” Gage carefully laid the sleeping Carrie on the travois. He laid Ashley beside her. He gripped the handles and began to follow the others. All morning Carrie tossed and turned on the travois muttering. It was apparent she hadn’t settled into a healing sleep.
“No Daddy! Come back!” she moaned at one point.
Gage’s expression never changed. Leroy who’d dropped back to walk with him noticed the bigger man was gripping the handles of the travois so tightly his knuckles had turned deathly white.
“You need me to spell you a while?” Leroy asked.
Gage smiled as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Naw, I’m good.”
“You think she’ll stay crazy like this for good?”