Cherished (Cutter's Creek Book 9)

by Vivi Holt

  There was a large rock, flat on top, close to the trail, that he didn’t remember being there. He doubted he’d recognize every rock along this trail, but something about it just didn’t look right. He dismounted and led Tilly toward the rock, his eyes flitting back and forth to check everything in the quiet woods, the dark river and the sandy shore. Now that he was closer, it didn’t look so much like a rock as an animal of some kind … or a person!

  He knelt beside it and brushed the snow away. It was Camilla! Thank you, God! His heart lurched in his chest, and he quickly lowered his face to listen for a breath. It was there; she was still breathing, although shallowly. He removed his gloves to touch her skin - cold, very cold. Donning his gloves again, he lifted her into his arms and stood to his feet. She lolled like a rag doll, alarming him. He had to get her warm, and quickly.

  Pulling Tilly close, he heaved Camilla over his shoulder and mounted. As soon as he was in the saddle, he sat Camilla in front of him, holding her in place with his arms. It wouldn’t take much for her to slip from his grasp, so he held the reins with one hand, her torso firmly against him with the other.

  “Let’s go, girl.” He clicked his tongue to the waiting animal and she set off at a canter, back toward Harry and Charlotte’s house. He could take Camilla to town, but in that moment he wasn’t sure where he’d go. Dr. Potter was away and had been for days, tending to his own daughter’s firstborn in Bozeman. Sam and Estelle were at Harry and Charlotte’s, and he wasn’t sure who else was home on Thanksgiving night. No, he’d take her back to where her loved ones were. They’d know what to do. She needed them now.

  As he rode, he continued to hold her close, willing his own warmth into her. It wasn’t working. He pulled Tilly to a halt, opened his coat, removed his shirt and undershirt, stuffed them in a saddlebag and wrapped his coat around her, hoping his body heat would help. He shivered against the cold and snapped the reins, starting the mare forward again.

  After a mile or so, he felt movement against his chest. His eyes dropped and he opened his coat to look at her. She lay against him, eyes closed, perfect dark lashes against her fair, freckled cheeks. She looked to have a little more color in those cheeks than she had before, and seemed to be supporting herself some in the saddle.

  Her eyelids flickered open and her gaze rested on his face. She smiled and mumbled something, but he couldn’t tell what. She nestled closer into his chest, wrapping her arms around his bare torso, her cheek pressed against his skin. He shivered, but this time not from the cold – pleasure and relief coursed through his body in equal measure. Her eyes drifted closed again, and he wrapped her tighter in his coat.

  Within minutes they made it to Harry and Charlotte’s, and the noise of their arrival brought all the occupants from the house in a hurry. The men had obviously just returned empty-handed and now joined the women outside as he drew Tilly to a halt before them. “Hurry, she needs help!”

  “It’s Camilla!” said Charlotte, her eyes wide. “Is she okay?”

  “Thank you, Sheriff, thank you!” Harry leaped from the porch to run and greet him. Sam and Winston hurried over as well, and the three men gently lifted her down from the saddle and carried her inside. The women rushed after the men, and shut the door behind them with a few cries of thanks over their shoulders.

  Clifford was left standing beside his exhausted horse, shirtless and alone in the falling snow. He removed his coat to pull on his undershirt and shirt, then, he donned the coat once more and pushed his hat back onto his head. He looked at Tilly, fatigue filtering through his body from his head down to his toes. “Can you believe that?” he asked his horse. “Didn’t even offer me a cup of coffee.”

  Tilly snorted and shook snow from her mane.

  “Yeah, I bet you would’ve liked a nice feedbag yourself. Oh well. Let’s go home, girl.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Camilla’s eyes flitted open, and she moaned as a headache goaded her into consciousness.

  “Are you awake?” Charlotte was standing beside her bed, her eyes full of concern.

  Camilla nodded with a weak smile. “Can’t talk,” she rasped.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to. Just rest. Would you like some broth?”

  She nodded again, and Charlotte left the room, returning shortly with a bowl of steaming soup on a tray. She laid the tray across Camilla’s lap, and Camilla slurped on a hot spoonful. It was delicious, and her stomach grumbled loudly in response. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. You gave us quite the scare.” Charlotte ran her hands over her disheveled hair, which had been pulled back into a chignon for Thanksgiving and not touched since. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  Memories flooded Camilla’s thoughts and she gasped. “I was lost. It’s all comin’ back to me. Winston and I took a walk together, and he proposed …”

  “He proposed?” Charlotte’s eyes went wide in surprise and her hand flew to her throat. “What did you say?”

  “I said I needed time to think about it. He marched off in a rage and left me there.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t find my way back – it was horrible. I was hunted by a mountain lion, and I dove into the freezin’ river. I thought I’d die. How did you find me?”

  Charlotte took Camilla’s hand in hers and stroked it gently, her own cheeks wet with tears. “Sheriff Brentwood came by unexpectedly while the men were out searching for you. I told him what had happened, and he left to search too. When he returned he had you with him, wrapped in his coat.”

  Camilla remembered a fleeting glimpse of a bare, muscled chest, of chiseled features looking down at her with fear in his eyes, the scent of leather and sweat. She closed her eyes, picturing it all in her mind and her cheeks flushed warm. “Oh … that’s right. I remember ridin’ in front of him.” She lifted a hand to rub her forehead. Where was he now? Had he waited to see if she was all right? She should thank him for rescuing her. She attempted to stand, and fell back on the bed with a cry.

  “No, no. I’m your doctor for now, my dear, and I order bed rest for you. No walking around today.” Charlotte lifted a hand to brush Camilla’s cheek. “Your fever has abated, thank the Good Lord for that. You’re on the mend.”

  “How long’s it been?” she whispered.

  “Three days.”

  “Three days?!” Her eyebrows arched in dismay. “I have to thank the sheriff. He’ll think I’m ungrateful.”

  “No, he won’t. He’s been by every day to see how you’re doing, and we’ve thanked him profusely on your behalf. You just focus on getting better.”

  “Every day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Today?”

  “No, I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.” Charlotte looked toward the door, the sound of crying capturing her attention. “Oh dear, that’s Anna. I’d better go see what the matter is. Thank goodness for Mary, or I’d have gone mad. There are children and invalids in every room of this house.” She stood to leave.

  “Sorry,” rasped Camilla with a lopsided grin.

  “Never mind, my darling sister – I’m just so thankful you’re well.” Another noise, this from outside. “Oh heavens, now someone’s at the door as well.” Charlotte strode out, leaving Camilla alone with her thoughts.

  The last thing she remembered clearly was leaping into the river and watching the big cat pace up and down the riverbank as it waited for her to come back. She was certain she wouldn’t make it. How had the sheriff found her? It must have been almost impossible in the darkness and snow. Did she make it back to shore somehow? How had she escaped the predator waiting for her there? She couldn’t recall.

  But she could remember the Sheriff’s scent, her cheek pressed against his bare chest. With eyes closed, she pictured the look in his eyes and the beard that tickled the top of her head, the warmth of his embrace, the firmness of his muscular torso against her cold, wet body … she trembled, and felt a deep yearning to have him hold her again.

&nbs
p; Her eyes flew open – what was wrong with her?! She was practically engaged to Winston – Winston, who she hadn’t even thought of since she awoke. Winston, who’d abandoned her to the fates when she didn’t immediately say yes to his proposal. Where was he? Was he sorry he’d left her behind that day? Was he at least racked with guilt over it? Part of her hoped he hadn’t been too hard on himself. Part of her hoped he had.

  Just then, Charlotte entered with Winston in tow. He held his hat in his hands, turning it awkwardly as he stood at the foot of her bed. His eyes roamed the room, resting only for a moment on her face. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

  Despite herself, she felt sorry for him. “Winston, I’m so glad you came,” she whispered, holding out her hand.

  He edged around the bed to take her hand and kissed it before kneeling beside the bed. Anxious eyes found hers and rested there. “I’m so ashamed, Cammie. I should never have left you out there. Please forgive me.”

  She nodded and smiled, pressing her other hand on top of his. “Of course.”

  “You could have died … and I …” He choked on the words and placed his free hand on his forehead, his eyes closed as he composed himself.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. Really, I forgive you. You didn’t know …” Her voice had returned a little, but her throat felt raw and she knew she wouldn’t be able to say much more.

  Charlotte left the room, no doubt to attend to the children. Camilla heard her exclamation down the hall, “My heavens, the door again?! I’ll never get anything done at this rate. Mary – please, can you see what Johnny wants? He’s bawling in the living room and I have no idea what’s happened. I have to get the door.” She grinned, picturing Charlotte’s reddened face in her mind. Poor dear.

  She heard the front door open and a murmur of voices. Soon Charlotte entered her room again, this time with Sheriff Brentwood trailing her, her eyebrows arched in amusement.

  Winston stood to his feet, frowning. “Sheriff, it’s good to see you. Thank you again for finding Cammie. You saved her life, and I’ll be forever grateful.” He shook Clifford’s hand vigorously, though obviously uncomfortable with being indebted to the man.

  “Happy to be of assistance. I see she’s awake.” He skirted Winston and made his way to Camilla, removing his hat and standing just out of her reach. “Cammie, I hope you’re feeling better.”

  She nodded and smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, Sheriff. You saved me.” Her voice croaked and she lifted a hand to him.

  He stepped forward to take it and held it firmly between his. He didn’t reply, but his eyes twinkled at her and his lips curved into a half-grin.

  “I have to ask,” began Winston, moving toward them, “How did you end up soaking wet, Cammie?”

  “The river,” she whispered. “A mountain lion was after me, so I went into the river to escape it.”

  She thought she saw a look of admiration in the sheriff’s eyes, as well as worry. “I heard that cat myself, when I was out looking for you. No wonder you almost froze. That river is like ice this time of year. Nonetheless, that was the right move – mountain lions hate water, like most cats.”

  “We heard it too,” added Winston lamely. “I’m so glad you escaped it.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded her head, feeling exhaustion take over once again.

  “All right now, it’s time for her to rest.” Charlotte ushered the two men from the room, but Camilla’s eyes didn’t open to see them leave. She’d drifted back into a dreamless sleep, where darkness was her only companion and the ache of a deep cold remembered chilled her to the bone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  December 1871

  Camilla was happy to be out and about again. After a week of recovering indoors, she had been given permission by Charlotte to go to the church sledding party. It was Saturday, and everyone would be there. She wasn’t allowed to ride a sled, mind you, just to watch others having fun. She sighed and smoothed the blanket draped across her legs as she sat on the hard wagon seat. At least she’d get some fresh air.

  It was beautiful out today. Snow blanketed the ground in a dazzling display of white, and the sled rails Harry had fixed to the wagon flew over the thick powder, pulled by an eager pair of horses who’d been cooped up in the barn for days. Tree branches bowed toward the ground under the weight of the frozen piles adorning them. The pristine carpet was marked here and there by the tracks of bobcat, wolf and mule deer.

  Camilla turned to smile at Charlotte beside her, who was almost lost in a sea of furs, blankets and wraps. Baby Anna was held close in her arms. The sun shone pale in the sky above, making the frozen landscape sparkle and gleam, and Camilla had to squint when they crossed the river at the brightness of the reflection on the water’s smooth surface.

  Before long, they reached the sloping hill in front of the little red chapel where the townsfolk had gathered. Sleighs and wagons were parked at the base, and children ran and tumbled up and down the hill, dragging makeshift sleds behind them. Their reddened faces beamed beneath earmuffs, hats and scarves, and she could hear their laughter and chattering voices as they drew closer.

  Harry parked the wagon and helped Charlotte, Mary and the children to the ground. They shuffled off, and he reached for Camilla’s hand. She stepped down cautiously, careful to favor her swollen ankle – she’d re-injured it during her night in the woods, and it was still painful. Her eyes scanned the gathering, taking in the familiar faces, picnic baskets and blazing bonfire that had been lit in the center of it all to keep warm those waiting at the base of the hill. She pulled her woolen shawl more tightly around her shoulders and pushed her hands into the fur muff that hung from it.

  Her eyes found Winston beside the bonfire, one hand raised in greeting. She’d barely spoken to him since that night, and still hadn’t answered his question. Other than his one visit, he seemed to be avoiding her – no doubt ashamed of the part he’d played in her misadventure. She really had forgiven him, but he still acted uncomfortable and distant.

  Worse still, Clifford had only visited her the one time, and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Whenever she asked Charlotte or Harry about him, they said they hadn’t seen him either. It was driving her to distraction – why hadn’t he come to check on her again? Didn’t he care at all?

  He was so exasperating! One moment, he did something wonderful that seemed to show he had feelings for her, and the next he acted as though he never thought of her. No doubt the latter was true and she was only imagining he cared for her. He’d certainly never spoken of it, let alone come courting. In all likelihood, he’d just been doing his job when he rescued her that night. He was the sheriff, after all. It was his duty to help.

  But then, why had he come to Harry and Charlotte’s house on Thanksgiving night when he should have been celebrating somewhere with family and friends? She blanched. Perhaps he didn’t have any family or friends. They should have invited him to share their meal. Her heart ached at the thought. She remembered hearing that he’d left his family back east years ago. But he must have friends, surely … everyone seemed fond of him.

  She shook all thoughts of Clifford from her head and hobbled toward Winston, a smile on her face. She was glad to see him and hoped he’d get past the awkwardness soon. He greeted her and offered her his arm, and they walked over to join the rest of the group. The fire crackled and snapped, warming her face and hands. All around them, folks talked and laughed together, watching the children as they rode their sleds down the hill with screams of delight.

  Just then, she noticed there were several men at the top of the hill amongst the children, including Clifford. She recognized him even from a distance – his broad shoulders, athletic physique and long-tailed coat made him stand out. She felt her heart flutter at the sight of him.

  He leaned forward to hold a sled in place, lodging one foot in front of it. Then with a hearty laugh, he grabbed a small boy and planted him on the sled, eliciting squeals of anticipation. He added
another boy to the sled and pushed them down the hill, standing to watch their progress.

  But it was immediately obvious that the boys were in trouble. Their sled sped off at an angle rather than straight down the hill, and they were soon careening over hillocks and tussocks buried beneath the snow, the sled sailing through the air to land with a whack against the ground. They yelled and tried hard to turn their vehicle around, but without success.

  Clifford took off at a run, still mischievously grinning, and pursued them down the hill. Thankfully, their pace slowed as the sled progressed. Right before they hit the trunk of an enormous juniper, he grasped the sled from behind and pulled them to a stop. All those watching around the fire applauded and exclaimed, calling out congratulations to him, and he gave a mock bow. The boys climbed off the sled, righted their caps and headed back up the hill, chattering excitedly with the sheriff.

  Camilla stood still, her eyes fixed on him. He interacted with the children with such ease, and it was obvious from the way they flocked around him, begging for his attention, that they adored him. A small girl lifted her hands up to him, and he picked her up to set her on his hip and nodded in thoughtful contemplation while she pointed out some marvel she’d discovered in the snow.

  Camilla was enthralled. Was this the sheriff who barely spoke a word to most people, the strong, silent loner? He didn’t look that way today, laughing and chatting with the children and men at the top of the slope.

  “Are you okay, Cammie? Can I get you anything?” asked Winston.

  “No, thank you. I think I’ll take a short stroll.”

  “Fine. I see Justin over yonder – I want to chat to him about the winter feed supply.” Winston dipped his hat with a smile and headed for his brother, who was talking to Reverend Latsch on the other side of the bonfire.