by Nancy Bush
Dammit all, he thought angrily. He was going to have to help himself.
It took an immense effort of will, and a blue streak of swearing, before he could get himself into a sitting position. By the time he finally succeeded, the sweat was standing out on his skin, and he was breathing as hard as a quarterhorse at the end of a race. He managed to prop one shoulder against the tree, giving himself a view of the entire camp. Grass was trampled down for a trail at the northwest end. Wherever Miracle was, she’d come and gone a few times. Maybe she would come back after all. Maybe she’d just gone for supplies.
But why had she kept him here all this time?
Harrison’s eyes narrowed. How long had he been here?
With a groan of anguish he suddenly remembered his wedding. He was supposed to have been wed by now, wasn’t he? Surely he’d been here more than one night. He could recall hazy memories of night fires and daylight glinting off the lake’s surface. It was a good bet he’d missed his own wedding. His gut twisted with remorse for the misery and humiliation he’d inadvertently caused Kelsey.
He was reflecting on what that would mean for Danner-Garrett relations (Jace would never get over this one!) when he heard footsteps crunching on the dried grass of the trail. Harrison fixed his gaze expectantly on the spot where Miracle would undoubtedly appear. His curiosity about this woman was enormous.
As Harrison waited, he remembered a hazy fragment of a dream. A woman’s lush body moving beneath his. The image was so powerful that his member hardened in response. God dammit! What was wrong with him? Jesse was the Danner who suffered from uncontrollable lust.
He closed his eyes tightly, willing the vision away, his hands fisted at his sides, disgusted with himself.
Miracle’s tread stopped, and Harrison opened his eyes. She was at the edge of the clearing, staring at him through a pair of the deepest, bluest, most brilliant eyes he’d ever seen. Her expression was sober and tense. In her arms was a basket filled with tins and bottles and what looked to be clothes. Her shirtwaist had obviously once been pink, but it was stained with dirt and dust, and her buckskin skirt looked worn and beaten. Her face and skin were clean and soft, however, so Harrison guessed her ragged clothes owed more to the events of the past few days than any lacking on her part.
There was a toughness about her, a strength in her arms and in the determined lift of her chin. If her disposition were as severe as her expression, he decided she would make someone a horrible, mean-tempered wife. But even so, there was a vulnerability about her mouth that spoke of deeper feelings, of sensitivity.
Her hair was thick, raven black, and hung straight to her waist. It shone with the richness of good health. He suddenly longed to bury his face in those night-dark tresses and was surprised by the reaction. He could almost feel their silken curtain and smell their clean scent, and he could see that black mane wet, with water pouring from it over long limbs and soft, high breasts.
Holy Mother Mary. What was he thinking of?
All this he absorbed in a matter of seconds. The little savage was regarding him with just as much interest, he realized, though the frown that drew her thin black brows together offered little hope for her opinion.
What Harrison was unaware of was that Miracle was shocked down to the tips of her toes. She’d seen him at night, under the secret shadows of evening. In the daytime he’d always been asleep. He’d seemed safe somehow. Manageable. But now that impression was swept away with the swiftness of a mountain gale. This was no invalid. This was a potent, strong-jawed male. And his eyes were green, a rich brilliant, knowing emerald that seemed to look right through her. For some reason that shocked her more than anything else. She expected them to be dark, like the shadows of the night which had deepened them.
There was humor in his face; she’d seen the tiny crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. But there was also sheer strength and an animal vitality that Miracle had heretofore been unconscious of. The look on his face was a reflection of her own, though she did not know it. Those green eyes were slitted and wary and fierce. His nostrils were flared and his lips tight. A pulse beat rhythmically in his throat.
Oh, Lord, Miracle thought, dry-mouthed. He will never let me escape justice!
“Miracle Jones?” he asked in a deceptively light tone.
She nodded jerkily. His voice scraped her nerves. Her face heated in embarrassment. She prayed he didn’t remember what they’d shared.
He eased his left shoulder, grimacing. “I suppose I should thank you for the poultice strapped to my back. What is it?”
“Marshmallow root.”
“And what is it supposed to do?” he asked in a tone that suggested he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Miracle’s scattered wits reasserted themselves. It was one thing to accuse her of trying to stab him; she could not deny the charge. But it was quite another to malign her skills as a medicine woman. “Bring down the fever. Take away the poisons. Make certain you don’t die.”
“Are you an Indian?” he asked curiously. “You don’t talk like an Indian.”
“I’m half Chinook. I was raised by whites.”
“But you’re a shaman?”
Miracle’s blush deepened. No, she was not the medicine woman of her tribe, although when it suited his purposes Uncle Horace claimed her to be the best of a line of shamans that stretched through Chinook ancestry from the creation of the universe until present day. In truth, Miracle had learned what she knew of fruits, herbs, and medicine from Uncle Horace and from a basic interest in such things.
“No,” she said.
Harrison abandoned this line of inquiry, seeing it would be like drawing blood from a turnip. “So why are we here?” he asked, his gaze encompassing the camp. “Why aren’t we in Rock Springs?”
“You were too weak to move,” she answered quickly, showing a first sign of emotion. It was fear, Harrison decided.
“From my stab wound,” he prompted.
“I didn’t know you were trying to rescue me,” Miracle answered testily. “I’ve said so before.”
“Have you? Sorry. I don’t remember.”
His sarcasm scored a direct hit. She glanced away, her lips tightening, her long lashes sweeping her cheek in an utterly feminine, incredibly beautiful fan-shaped flutter.
“You were sick,” she stated flatly. “I was afraid you would die.”
He felt a stirring of pity for her in spite of himself, and he was furious at himself for caring at all. Your own fault, his conscience mocked him. You had to be a hero. Had to save her.
“I need to get back to Rock Springs,” he said heavily.
“Oh, no!” Instantly she flew to his side, shaking her head violently. “You can’t. Not yet, anyway. Your wound is still healing. Don’t undo the good that’s already been done.”
This close, her eyes were like twin azure gems. Harrison could only stare at her. “How long have I been here?”
“Three days.”
“Three days!” He groaned, leaning his forehead against the bole of the tree and closing his eyes. There would be hell to pay with Jace Garrett. He couldn’t even bear to think about Kelsey.
“What is it?” she asked, alarmed, touching her hand to his face.
Instantly Harrison opened his eyes. The contact of her skin against his was enough to make him jump out of his flesh. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice harsher than normal. “Just – hungry.”
Her face relaxed for the first time. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
When she moved away he caught a quick glimpse of a shapely calf beneath her long skirts. Harrison, who had never suffered from lack of female companionship, was amazed and a little troubled by the stirring of desire her every movement seemed to elicit. What in the devil was wrong with him? Just because he’d been practicing self-imposed celibacy as a sort of tribute to his soon-to-be wife, Kelsey, didn’t mean he had to act like a randy schoolboy now that a few extra days had passed. Good Lord, it hadn’t been th
at long, and he certainly wasn’t interested in a woman who was as handy with a knife as Miracle Jones obviously was. It made him shake with fear to think what parts she might hack away at were she to be really furious with him!
No, there was no question of becoming involved with the little savage. It was far too dangerous to his health. Besides, he had a bride waiting in Rock Springs. Let his younger brother, Jesse, who’d been missing these past ten years, live the life of a renegade and handle the Miracle Joneses of this world. He, Harrison Danner, was not interested.
His thoughts touched on Isabella. He hadn’t thought about her in years, but she seemed to be in the forefront of his mind now. His mouth twisted. And no wonder. She was the last woman to incite such reckless lust in him. He hadn’t believed he was still susceptible to that kind of adolescent desire. Now that he knew he was, he wondered why he couldn’t feel that way about Kelsey. She certainly was luscious enough. But, God help them, she seemed as much of a sister to him as Lexie was. He dreaded facing her and the prospect of their wedding.
“Blasted coward!” he muttered.
“Did you say something?” Miracle asked, glancing up from the soup she was pouring into a pan above the fire pit. Tiny orange flames were pulsing around dried grass and bits of wood, reaching for the heavier broken limbs Miracle had crisscrossed over the ashes.
“No.”
Her gaze met his frankly, and Harrison thought he saw amusement tucked in the corners of her eyes. She stared harder, but the impression disappeared as Miracle returned to her work, her concentration deep, her brow furrowed.
Did she have the wit and insight to understand his frustration? Most of the women he’d met were too shallow, vain, or just plain disinterested to actually challenge his intellect. Apart from his mother, his sister, and his bride-to-be, he’d never seen the slightest spark of intelligence from any of the women of his acquaintance. Not even Isabella, who’d mastered the art of lying and cheating but never intellectual stimulation. Could this wild half-breed of the quick tongue and even quicker blade actually possess a brain to match?
Impossible. Yet…
Harrison shook his head and sank down onto the blanket. He would reserve judgment. After all, she had saved his life, once she’d given up the idea of taking it.
¤ ¤ ¤
Miracle was amused by her patient’s grumbling dissatisfaction. He wasn’t nearly so fierce as she’d first imagined, she told herself with relief. She felt certain that given enough time and persuasion, she could win over his trust enough to make him see there was no reason to call in the sheriff.
She stirred the soup and poured it into chipped ceramic cups. She had some dried venison, too, and as she handed Harrison the cup, she asked him if he would like some of the meat as well.
“All right.” He nodded warily, watching her. “Thank you.”
Miracle had to trek back to the wagon for the venison. The horses watched her disinterestedly. She’d tied them to a nearby tree, and they’d managed to wind themselves around so tightly they couldn’t reach the dried grasses which sprouted in straggly clumps between the firs and cedars.
“I don’t know why I bother to even tie you,” she scolded them. “You’re too lazy and stupid to run away.”
She made certain they were unwound and able to reach the grasses, then she searched through the wagon for dried meat. In the course of taking care of Harrison she’d managed to clean up the mess of broken glass and tossed-about tinware. Now the wagon seemed like home again.
The sight of Uncle Horace’s wide-brimmed felt hat, the one with the hole in it which he liked to swear had been marked by the arrow Miracle’s “wild brother,” Blue, had shot at him when he’d stolen Miracle away from the “savage and vicious tribe of renegade Chinooks,” made Miracle’s throat tighten. Of course, the Chinooks were peace-loving and interested in trade rather than war, but Uncle Horace’s tale never ceased to thrill the children he met along his travels. Miracle’s existence gave his story credence, adding to the children’s delight and fear. Though in the past Miracle had sometimes felt embarrassed by Uncle Horace’s unabashed yarn spinning, now she fervently wished she could hear one more wild, wicked tale.
She returned to the camp by the lake, sober-faced. Harrison eyed her watchfully as he stretched out his legs, grimacing at the pain movement caused him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Miracle brought him the dried jerky and a tin cup of water. “Nothing.”
He took the cup and meat, his intense green gaze never leaving her troubled face. “Something must have happened to put that sorrow in your eyes.”
His intuitiveness surprised her. “The night I was kidnapped my Uncle Horace was beaten unconscious. He’s missing now, and I’m worried about him.”
“He was with you?”
“We were traveling together.”
“By wagon?” he asked, looking down at the venison. She had to have gotten the supplies from somewhere.
She nodded. “We were going to Rock Springs.”
He chewed on the venison thoughtfully. When Miracle tried to move away, he reached out and lightly grabbed her arm. “Don’t go. I want to talk to you.”
His touch made her nervous. “I have things to take care of.”
“Why were you going to Rock Springs? You and – Uncle Horace?”
“We just planned to travel through.” She tried to gently ease from his grip, but he tightened his hold. Sliding him a frowning glance, she met the full impact of his knowing eyes, and color washed up her cheeks in spite of herself. Damn the man. She had to get away from him before she embarrassed herself by doing God knew what.
“Are you looking for work?” he asked.
“No. I’m a healer,” she told him proudly. “Uncle Horace and I –”
She was cut off by his short bark of laughter. “You’re a healer, you’re not a shaman. Oh, that’s right, I remember now. You told me you help people. This is your job?”
His green eyes danced with amusement, instantly igniting Miracle’s temper. “I have cured many an ailing child,” she said with asperity. “I have helped where doctors have failed.”
She didn’t realize she’d slipped into her “healer” voice until Harrison whooped with disbelief and laughter. “You’re a faith healer!”
“I’m an herbalist,” she contradicted sharply. “It’s thanks to my skill that you’re still alive!”
Her hot retort rang through the quiet force, echoing back at her. The foolishness of her remark was heard in those ringing echoes. He arched a sardonic brow and drawled, “Since I’m still suffering the effects of your attempted murder, I hope you won’t think me ungrateful if I don’t acknowledge your – er – remarkable healing talents.”
Miracle was momentarily silent.
“Tell me, is this how you scare up business for yourself? My brother is a doctor, but I don’t think wounding and maiming patients first is one of his methods. Maybe I should –”
“Your brother’s a doctor?” Miracle cut him off on a gasp. Oh, God! The full extent of her folly flashed before her eyes. Her crime would be laid bare. Harrison would return home, and his brother would examine his wound. The sheriff would be called. She would be thrown in jail. Accused of attempted murder. Hadn’t he said as much?
The color washed from Miracle’s cheeks, leaving her pale and sick. Her eyes grew round with desperation as she envisioned the horror of a lifetime spent behind bars.
“Hey.” Harrison frowned. “What did I say?”
She turned to him beseechingly. “I didn’t mean to stab you. Truly. It was a mistake.”
The silence surrounding them was only broken by his deep breathing and her wildly beating heart.
“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said slowly.
“You do?” Miracle lifted her gaze to his, her relief almost palpable. The joy that swept across her beautiful features made Harrison catch his breath.
“You were only trying to protect yourself,” he
went on, wondering why she would think he might believe otherwise. “If I were a woman, trussed up and left to the fate of whatever lustful bastard should lay down the most money, I would have reacted the same way.”
Miracle wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him. Instead, she glanced away, her face heating, pounding like a pulse. He hadn’t had to lay down a penny to buy her virginity. She’d given it to him! Lord, please don’t let him remember. I promise from here on I will be pure of spirit and immune to the forces of temptation.
“Thank you,” she said simply, glancing back, her eyes brilliant with emotion.
Harrison couldn’t take his eyes from the aquamarine magnificence of hers. He was sobered enough to realize she actually believed he would throw her to the wolves, so to speak. Up until this moment he hadn’t seen her smile, but now the tentative curving of her lips, the innocence and guilelessness in that trembling motion, sent a shot of profound desire heating through his system which was totally inappropriate. He gazed at her rose-pink mouth, stunned by his physical response. He could scarcely move a muscle without biting back a cry of pain. Why – how – could he actually be feeling lust?
His unwelcome reaction made him terse. “You’re welcome,” he bit out, dropping her arm, then tearing off a piece of dried venison with his teeth. “It’s just common sense.”
“But no one believes a half-breed,” Miracle said quickly. “You could have said I’d stabbed you on purpose, and it wouldn’t have mattered what my reasons were. I would have been locked up.”
He didn’t answer. There was too much truth to her words. He’d met his share of half-breeds and full-blooded Indians, but only as passing acquaintances. Yet he knew if it came down to his word against any red man’s – or woman’s – he would be listened to first.
He felt the weight of her gaze on him and frowned. It wouldn’t matter how beautiful, intelligent, or innocent she was, either. White men ruled the country. She was absolutely correct.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” he demanded.
She glanced over at her own soup cooling in its cup. Sensing his rebuff, she moved away. Harrison felt cruel. She probably thought he’d rejected her because she was a half-breed. Oh, hell. What did it matter anyway? Soon he would be back in Rock Springs, and this interlude with Miracle Jones would be over.