by Beth Trissel
“Keep a lookout for the beast and Karin,” John answered. “She took off after Jack.”
“See? My bloody fault,” Jack said to Thomas. Ribs protesting, he flung himself up onto Peki.
Thomas grabbed his musket and sprang up on his tethered mount. “Say what you like, she cares more for you than any.”
If Jack weren’t wild to find Karin he’d have been astonished at this admission from a fierce McNeal male.
“Spread out, boys!” John shouted.
“Done.” With Peki’s back beneath him, Jack headed in the opposite direction from the rescue party to cover new ground.
It seemed Thomas had the same idea and guided his brown gelding at Peki’s heels. The blanketed woods were uncannily silent. Muffled shouts carried beyond the tread of hooves muted by the leaves on the path, and little else. Not even birds called in the cloudy vapor.
Jack could think of only one reason why Shequenor would leave Karin behind; the necklace that still weighted his pouch. Thomas didn’t know about that. No one did, except her. And now, maybe Shequenor.
Would he leap at Jack to try and reclaim it? No doubt Thomas was a crack shot. Could a bear walking warrior fall? Jack thought so and denounced the part of him that still clung to the irrational devotion he bore his adopted brother. It was Shequenor’s life or his, he reminded himself. Karin’s, too, might be at stake.
Jack felt rather than saw the pair of all-seeing eyes following Peki’s every step. Was it his imagination or did a black shape rustle the underbrush?
“See that?” Thomas grunted.
“Sure did.” At least in this regard, Jack wasn’t deluded. Rigid with wariness, he nudged Peki on. Ears pricked, the horse was also attuned to the barely discernible presence.
Ever furtive, so Jack couldn’t be certain of his whereabouts, the bear glided ahead. No rabbits or pheasants fled his coming. He seemed to go undetected by wildlife. Now and then, Jack glimpsed a hint of brownish-black fur.
“He’s clever,” Thomas said under his breath.
“You have no notion.”
“Almost human, eh?” Thomas quipped.
“Almost.” Even in manly form, Jack wasn’t sure he’d call Shequenor fully human anymore. He was a lost soul.
“You need a stiff drink, lad.”
“No doubt. Just have that musket ready.”
An enraged bellow broke the stillness, unleashed in a whoosh of wind and swirling leaves. Startled blue jays flapped up, cawing raucously. Thomas leveled the barrel and scanned either side of the blanketed trail.
You would shoot me, NiSawsawh?
The growling accusation sounded in Jack’s mind, though he doubted Thomas heard. He grasped his tomahawk. “I’ll kill you, Shequenor, if needs must.”
“Easy, Jack.” Thomas said.
I taught you to use that weapon.
“You taught me well.”
Have at me then.
“Jack—look.”
An enormous grizzly took form among the smoky trees. He hovered between leafless oaks, fur bristling, eyes glowing with challenge. Jack stared back, his teeth gritted, hand clenching the handle of the lethal blade. Peki stood with unusual calm after the earlier attack. Even Thomas hesitated at the unexpected visitation. Then he took aim.
Jack’s stomach turned. “Wait—it’s my fight.”
“Don’t be daft. You can’t win against that monster.”
“I don’t expect to. But I must face him.”
“A bloody great bear?”
“A bear walking warrior.” Steeling himself for what would follow, Jack threw a leg over Peki. “Take care of my horse.”
My horse, Shequenor growled. My daughter.
“Jack, for God’s sake, stop.”
“Tell Karin I love her.”
“Then don’t be so damn foolhardy.”
Ignoring Thomas, Jack advanced toward the waiting beast. His chest hammered like a man going to his execution, and with one swipe of those lethal paws, he might well be. But he must prove his courage after his failure earlier.
Still unwavering, Shequenor watched him come.
“Stop, Jack, or I swear I’m shooting him through the heart right now,” Thomas warned.
Inexplicably, Jack froze at his threat. Shequenor’s fathomless gaze flickered with satisfaction.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, Jack, but you’re turning back now,” Thomas insisted.
Go, NiSawsawh. Time wanes. Bring my daughter to me. I cannot convey her in this form.
Now Jack knew the reason. “Wait. Where’s Karin?”
Under your nose. I led you to her. As quickly as he’d appeared, Shequenor dissolved into the hazy trees.
****
A hasty search and Jack spied Paul McNeal’s mount grazing on clumps of grass that grew where sunlight found its way through breaks in the forest canopy. The horse’s silent presence in the fog hadn’t alerted him or Thomas to its presence. Not far from the gelding, Jack saw Karin slumped on the ground, curled on the bed of leaves as if sleeping.
Right where Shequenor said she’d be, he thought, racing to where she lay. Her position was unnatural. And no one slept like that in these frigid woods with no campfire.
Thomas rushed forward. “Poor lass.”
“Oh, God. Karin.” Her face was too white, cold. Jack knelt beside her, gathering her limp body in his arms. Dear Lord, how he loved her. It hit him like gunfire. Every beat of her precious heart beat in his.
Thomas bent down. “Did she strike her head?”
Jack fingered the telltale lump on the back of her head. “Yes. When she fell. She’s chilled through.”
Clutching her to him, he crooned in her ear, “I’m here. You’re going to be all right, sweetheart,” he said, willing his heat to permeate the wrappings that only seemed to keep the cold in. He pressed his lips over her chilled cheeks. “We’ve got to warm her.”
Thomas took a flask from inside his coat. “Here’s brandy if you can wake her. We best get her to the nearest homestead. Brewster’s is closest and crowded with revelers. Try to get some spirits in her first.
Jack shook her. “Karin, can you hear me?”
No answer.
Thomas knelt by them and reached his hand to her face. “Karin, it’s Thomas. Wake, lass,” he pleaded, with a desperate edge Jack expected was unlike this hardened man.
Still no answer.
“Karin!” Jack shook her harder, hugging her back to him, loathe to release her for an instant. “Please. I need you.”
She moaned slightly and whispered, “Jack?”
He smothered her cold lips with a kiss and detected the faintest response.
“Thank God,” Thomas breathed out. “You’re bringing her round.”
I’m the reason she needs reviving in the first place.”
“’Tis the fault of that blasted bear. Nothing to do with you. No matter how sure you are he’s a demon in disguise.”
“Oh, he’s that, and followed after me like a hound from Hell.” Anger surged in Jack. Why did Shequenor persist in placing her in danger, only alerting Jack in time to snatch her back?
Jack assumed he’d been prompted to intercede for her in the night and it was no accident he awoke when he did. Was this all part of some insane test? Why hadn’t he been able to let Thomas fell Shequenor? If he’d seen Karin like this he would have.
He shifted her into Thomas’s arms with fresh resolve and profound reluctance. “I’ve got to return the favor and put an end to this now.”
“Jack, no,” Karin moaned.
Thomas shifted her back into Jack’s all-too-ready grasp. “You’re talking foolishness. You were knocked on the head nearly as hard as she. Stay with Karin and see to the lass. Papa and I will hunt the beast down.”
“You have no notion the wrath you would be inviting. I’m the only one who can face him.”
A shake of his head and Thomas said, “God only knows why, but you can’t pull that trigger.”
“Next time I will,” Jack insisted.
Karin twisted weakly in his arms. “Don’t.”
“Let’s see her on the mend before we act,” Thomas coaxed. “We’re only distressing her, the pair of us.”
“True.” Karin wasn’t out of danger yet. Cradling her to his chest, Jack reached his free hand to the opened flask and held the rim to her lips. “Sip this, darling.”
He clenched his teeth as he gazed down at her pale face. He’d almost lost her.
Shequenor, you’re mine.
****
Light-headed, dismayed, and frustrated almost beyond endurance, Karin slumped weeping against Jack.
“Hush now.” He cradled her to him and trotted Peki toward the Brewster’s sprawling homestead.
It wasn’t just the chilled to the bone quaking, or the ache in her head that troubled her, but the snippets of conversation she’d overheard between him and Uncle Thomas, and Jack’s obstinate resolve to go after Shequenor. Uncle Thomas had prevailed with him to delay on her account, but she would soon rally. Then what? Would her adored uncle and Grandpa also go?
Despite everything Shequenor had done or threatened to do, she didn’t want him struck down. And she couldn’t live another day if he laid any of them low. She’d make Jack see sense, she vowed, and rooted in her cloak for a handkerchief. Speaking coherently was a challenge, though, and the events of the past hour a blur.
Drawing out the square of embroidered linen, she blotted her damp face. “Shequenor did visit me,” she insisted, despite Uncle Thomas’s declaration that she’d been unconscious and imagined the exchange with the disembodied voice.
“Enough of that talk, lass,” he said from behind them. “You have got to stop carrying on about that bear. You’re as bad as Jack. And both of you knocked witless.”
On this point, Jack was bewilderingly silent, and offered her another sip from the flask. She swallowed to ease the chill, but brandy on an empty stomach didn’t aid in articulate speech. So she just cried, hating that she did.
“Shhhh...” he soothed, brushing back the hair from her cheeks. “It will be all right.”
“How?”
“I’m not certain, but I’ll mend this mess.”
“It’s all my fault—” she choked out. “Nothing would need mending if it weren’t for me.”
“Hardly. I brought Shequenor on you by coming in the first place. It’s my task to deal with him.”
She wanted to pound Jack on the chest. “No. He’s my father.”
Uncle Thomas rode alongside them. His stern face swam before her tear-filled eyes. “Hush, Karin. Let no one overhear you. As far as your family is concerned, you have no father. Grandpa McNeal declared as much at your birth and swore anyone who said different could argue the matter with his fists. No one did and the settlement accepted you as a McNeal. Do you want to put it into folks’ minds that you’re—” He hesitated.
“A half-breed?” she sobbed.
“I’ve never considered you that. None of us has,” he said more gently.
“But I am. And my father seeks for me.”
“We knew of his cunning, always feared somehow he would. We swore he’d never find you.”
“Until I came,” Jack said, an edge to his voice. “Now do you see why it’s my fight, Karin?”
“No. And if you take off after him, I’ll never forgive you, Jack McCray.”
Heaviness weighted his reply. “Then I may remain beyond your grace.”
“And maybe, I’ll go after Shequenor myself. Restore the necklace and see what he wants of me.”
“Oh, don’t be daft,” Jack flashed back. “I’m the only one who knows where his lodge is hidden in the mountains.”
Disapproval washed over her from Uncle Thomas. “You found Mary’s necklace?”
Too late, Karin bit her lip at her thoughtless disclosure. “Jack and I did. He has it now.”
“Leave it with him,” Uncle Thomas said. “Your Grandfather would have an apoplectic fit if he saw it.”
“It’s mine. Mama meant for me to find it.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Behave yourself, Karin McNeal,” Jack broke in with sternness beyond her uncle’s, “or I swear I’ll lock you in your room until all is set to rights.”
“We’re not headed home now,” she fired back in between teary gulps. “Kyle Brewster would never lock me up anywhere.”
“She’s got you there,” Uncle Thomas allowed. “The fellow’s head over heels in love with her.”
Jack tightened his grip on Karin. “I noticed. Interfering sort, is he?”
“Where she’s concerned, he might be. Brewster would wed her tomorrow if she’d have him.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Jack ground out.
“And we’ll just see about you going after Shequenor,” Karin waged in turn. At least that’s what she meant to say, but the word escaped her with more of a slur than she’d intended. Then she hiccupped violently. This on top of her shivering rendered further speech impossible.
Uncle Thomas thrust out his hand. “Give me back that flask, Jack. The girl’s had more than enough.”
With that, Karin agreed, and was bent on taking action just as soon as she could get to her feet.
****
Rollicking music engulfed Jack from inside the Brewster’s homestead. He stepped through the open door bearing Karin. Whether from the fall, biting cold, the brandy, or all three, she couldn’t yet stand alone and her petticoats spilled over them both. Not that he minded his precious burden. Despite the twinge in his shoulder and sore rib, he was leery of setting her down and risk having Kyle Brewster, and Lord knew who else, fawn all over her.
Jack paused inside the doorway. In the mix of revelers, he spied Brewster’s curly head and sized up his potential rival. He reckoned the young man was strapping enough to hold his own in a fight and the sort who’d appeal to women. No more so than Jack, though, and perhaps less. Feminine glances roamed up one side of him and down the other. Without a doubt, he had an open shot at these lasses were he so inclined.
He wasn’t, and scanned the room for predatory males. One lean figure caught his eye, greasy brown hair pulled back at his neck. “There’s Jeb Tate, the cantankerous lout.”
“You bested him and that other lout today,” Karin blurted with unexpected bravo, considering how upset she’d been with him not long ago.
Jack puffed up with momentary pride then caught himself. “They may not remain that way.”
More men glanced around at his arrival. Narrow eyes targeted him as if he had a mark on his chest before fastening onto Karin. No wonder the McNeal clan guarded her so closely. He was tempted to turn and leave, but she needed care.
“There’s Mama.” He picked her out in the throng, though not among the swirling skirts and stomping boots in the center of the room.
Karin twisted in his arms for a better look. “Such gaiety.”
He glanced down at her. Even in her wobbly state, she seemed entranced. The music danced in her eyes like flames in the smoky blue, medicine for the soul. She’d soon rally amid all of this energy.
“Merriment indeed.” Jack took in the rosy women and robust men worked up into a glistening sheen. Fiddlers perched in a corner of the overflow struck up a reel. Partners joined hands, circling, turning, swinging, and promenading up and down.
The heady sound pounded in Jack with a pulse as familiar as his own heart, the wild cry of a soaring hawk, and beat of drums. The throbbing rhythm made him want to forget his cares and join in. Better still, to circle around and around with Karin in his arms.
Thomas nudged him from behind. He’d almost forgotten the man was back there. “Might be better to shift Karin over to me now before you arouse any more attention.”
Jack shook his head. “I’ll see to her.”
“With all these folk looking on?”
“My way of announcing our betrothal.”
Karin flashed wondering eyes at him.
“Easy, Jack,” Thomas cautioned. “Keep a sharp lookout for any who object. Joseph will be along soon with Papa. Lord knows he’ll cry foul, if Papa doesn’t.”
By way of reply, Jack strode into the whirling assembly.
His mother rushed over to them. “How’s Karin?”
“In need of warmth and something besides spirits in her stomach. She had a tumble, but will be all right.”
Sarah smoothed Karin’s cheek with a touch typical of her gentleness. “I’ll fetch you both a dish of stew. Go settle her near the hearth.” She patted Thomas’s arm. “Thank you for seeing them safely back.”
“She won’t thank me if you get yourself stabbed,” Thomas muttered in Jack’s ear. “Come on to the fire.”
Using his amicable bulk, Thomas cleared a path through the revelers. Jack sniffed the savory aroma of roasted meat amid the strong musk from the crush of bodies. Not all human scents were disagreeable, though. Sweet perfume clung to Karin’s soft skin and hair, intoxicating. The last thing he wanted was her at odds with him over her damnable father.
Kyle Brewster made his way to them. Concern mixed with the unmistakable envy in his brown eyes as he weighed Karin in Jack’s grasp. “McNeal, McCray,” he said, nodding at Thomas and Jack in tentative greeting, his focus on Karin as if she were the only one present. “Has Miss McNeal suffered injury?”