by Paty Jager
Loralei let the air out of her lungs slow and silently. One-eyed Joe had been a nice old man. His left leg had been shredded by a bear attack. Mert asked her to look at it. Timberland didn’t have a doctor, and though she didn’t have any training, taking care of sick people and wounds just came natural to her. Therefore, whenever someone was injured or hurt, they looked up Loralei.
One-eyed Joe’s leg had healed, and she told him he might want to stay clear of bears, especially since his left eye had been gouged out years before. The old man had laughed, and Loralei, remembering his easy temperament, now wondered how he could be friends with the likes of the trappers sitting around the fire.
“You seen One-eyed Joe lately?”
Loralei cringed, afraid one of the men spoke to her.
“Naw, not in a year or more,” another trapper answered.
She let out a sigh of relief, but just a slight one.
****
Sam’s throat burned, and his voice had gone horse from the number of times he yelled for Loralei. After retrieving their belongings, including the things off the pine tree, he’d saddled Raindrop and left the little alcove behind. He stayed on the trail, hoping that’s the direction she’d gone.
It made no sense, nothing had been rifled through. The camp looked as if she’d simply gone off for a short stroll. Had she gone looking for him? Had she become fearful he’d been gone so long? He never should have stayed away all day. Hadn’t really intended to, it was just that…well, that he had to do some thinking. In the few, short days they’d known each other, Loralei had wiggled her way into his heart.
What was he going to do about it? His shoulders slumped. There really wasn’t anything he could do. When he returned to New Orleans, he’d marry Tiffany, his sister-in-law. Not because he loved her, nor she him, but because it was his duty. His nieces needed him to be there for them, and his father had decided the best thing would be for Sam to marry Tiffany, so the girls would be raised as McDonalds.
He loved his nieces and would do anything for them, but marriage…He let out another yell. “Loralei!”
Her name bounced around as it faded. The echoes were as empty as his chest.
He hadn’t completely agreed to the marriage…wasn’t asked. His father had told him he’d marry Tiffany. Sam had said he’d think about it while tracking Bancroft. And he’d thought about it, a lot since leaving New Orleans. But those thoughts had mainly been around the fact if he didn’t marry Tiffany, it would be the one time in his life he defied his father.
Myles McDonald was a hard man and age hadn’t softened him. Sam had butt heads with his father plenty of times over the years, but when he really thought about it, it had always been over trivial things. It had been Thomas who’d taken the brunt of their father’s dictatorship. A McDonald had been at the helm of the family law firm for two generations and from the moment Thomas had been born, he’d been expected to take over.
The sour taste of guilt filled Sam’s mouth. For years he’d gladly accepted his role as the second son, letting Thomas excel as the prized child. Never once, not until this moment, had he questioned if it was something Thomas had wanted. Perhaps it had all caught up with his brother. Maybe there was more behind the duel that took Thomas’ life.
While his mind tumbled, his eyes had continued to search for Loralei, but night had descended. He couldn’t see more than ten feet in any direction. The heavy weight in his chest grew. Searching was useless until morning. King could stumble on the uneven trail, leaving him afoot.
He brought the horse to a halt. Was that why she took off on foot? Her quest to find her sister? Sam shook his head. Loralei loved her sister and was intent to find her as soon as possible, but she also loved Raindrop too much to leave the horse behind. She seemed to love everything with as much deep passion as she did pickles. The thought made him smile, then frown.
Would he and Thomas ever have searched the nation for one another? The answer made sadness and remorse roll around in his insides. Though they had grown up together, a mere three years separating their ages, they would never have gone searching for one another. For one, it wasn’t something their father would ever have allowed. For two, the bond Loralei had with Maggie never formed between him and Thomas.
This time anger filled his chest. He and his brother never had that attachment to one another, that union of siblings, because it wasn’t something Myles McDonald permitted. He kept them in competition with one another, always comparing one to the other, the first born and the second son. The one bound for greatness and the one who wouldn’t ever quite measure up.
A rustle in the woods and a flash of white caught his attention. A moment later, Ruth bounded onto the trail.
Sam leaped from the saddle, heart pounding and eyes searching the darkness. “Loralei?” he shouted.
Ruth growled and bit his pant leg.
Sam knelt down, and quickly checked Ruth for injuries. He found none. “What is it girl? Where’s Loralei? Is she hurt?”
The dog let out a soft bark.
“Loralei!” Sam shouted.
Ruth snatched his pant leg again and softly whimpered. Sam had an overwhelming sensation the dog told him to whisper.
“Where is she?” he asked, barely above a murmur.
Ruth let go and tossed her head in the air, as if nodding, then turned and scampered into the woods. Sam slid his rifle from the scabbard hanging on his saddle, and after wrapping the reins around a tree limb, followed the dog into the bramble bush.
Chapter Nine
Loralei’s left shoulder had gone numb from the hard rock beneath, but she didn’t dare twist to relieve the pressure. The trappers continued conversing, however the topic of conversation had become which hides were the most valuable. The unmistakable snap of a stick caught her attention. After a brief one-eye glimpse at the men around the fire pit, she peeked at the doorway.
Another snap emitted, loud enough to gain the men’s attention. The bald man rose to his feet.
Loralei, lashes low, snuck another look at the doorway. Her heart took off like a flock of birds. Sam, with his rifle casually lying across his chest, the barrel resting on his arm, strolled into the cave.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted. “Name’s Sam McDonald, Attorney at Law, you got permits for those hides?” He gestured his head toward the piles on the far side of the cave.
The trappers looked at each other, confusion wrinkling their foreheads. “What? A man don’t need a permit to trap,” the bald one said.
“I’m afraid you do.” Sam shifted his stance. The barrel of the gun rolled into his palm. “The permits, gentlemen.”
Loralei’s heart thudded. He’d come for her.
With curses and grunts, the other two trappers stood. One was as skinny as the other was fat. The snarls in their long hair and beards proved they hadn’t seen water, bathwater anyway, in a very long time. Overall, they looked about as friendly as a mother badger.
The skinny one pointed at the bald man. “Archie’s right, we don’t need a permit.”
Loralei recognized the voice as the same one who’d said he knew how to wake her. A slight squeal slipped from her lips.
Sam’s eyes flashed her way. He didn’t crack a smile, nor make any other move, but she could silently hear him asking if she was unharmed.
She gave a slight nod.
Sam’s gaze went back to the men, but he let go of the rifle stock long enough to wave a hand behind him. Ruth shot in through the doorway and placed herself between the fire pit and Loralei.
“I represent the Bureau of Land Management. A new law was recently passed. Every hide has to have a permit in order to be sold.” Sam’s hand was on the stock again, and his trigger finger made the gun click as the hammer slid back. “Your permits, please.”
“W-we ain’t heard of that law,” the fat one said, nervously glancing at the other two. “But we’s been on the mountain all winter. This is our first trip down.”
“Who’s she?” Sam as
ked.
Loralei snapped her head up to glare at him.
“Oh, we-ah-found her on the trail. Was just givin’ her a ride to town. Her horse had run off,” the bald one lied.
Loralei opened her mouth, but the slight, negative movement of Sam’s head had her closing it before a word slipped out.
“I suggest you men leave your furs here and hightail it to Denver and get your permits, otherwise, instead of cashing in your winter’s work, you’ll find yourselves in jail,” Sam suggested.
“What? Denver?” the bald one protested. “That’s the opposite direction of where we’re headed.”
“It’s the only place you can get your permits.” Sam let out a loud sigh. “I’m feeling a might generous right now. Since you haven’t been to town in a few months and don’t know about the law, I’ll let you ride out, head to Denver.” He glanced over his shoulder. “But I gotta warn you, I’m traveling with four other agents, we’ve been sent out here to make sure all you trappers have your permits.” He lowered his voice. “The other men I’m with aren’t as forgiving as I am.”
The skinny trapper slapped his leg. “Hell and damnation. I knew all these settlers was gonna ruin our trapping.”
“Yeah,” the fat one chimed in, “how’s a man to make a living if’n he’s gotta have permits and all?”
“Where’s the rest of these agents you claim to be with you?” the bald one asked.
“Oh, about half a mile from here. Could be closer by now.” Sam nodded his head her way. “We found her horse and dog. Figured she was injured or lost, so we separated to look for her.”
“S-she ain’t injured none at all, is you girl?” the fat one asked.
Loralei didn’t have time to respond before the bald one said, “She did fall and bump her head. How’s your head doing, girlie? You all right?”
The trapper actually sounded sincere. He took a step toward her, but backed up when Ruth leaped forward, snapping and growling.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked when Ruth quieted down.
“Yes,” Loralei half croaked.
“Can you walk?” Sam’s gazed flowed over her. It felt as if his fingers were gently caressing, checking for bumps and bruises.
“Of course she can walk,” the bald Archie said. “Cain’t ya, girlie. You can walk, right?”
Loralei pushed herself up, careful not to jar her throbbing head. “Yes, I can walk.”
“Good. And you tell that German Mert old Archie took good care of you. You tell him nothing happened to you while in Archie’s care.” The bald trapper patted his chest as he spoke.
“Funny you should mention Mert,” Sam said as he moved closer, offering her a hand as she started to rise to her feet. “Mert told me and the other agents to be on the lookout for this here gal. He said if anything happens to her to let him know and he’ll find who did it.”
All three trappers shook their heads. “Nothing happened to her!” the skinny one said. “We’s took real good care of her.”
“Yeah, we didn’t touch her no how!” the fat one added. “You tell old Mert that, would ya?”
“Yeah, and tell the other agents with ya.”
Sam tugged Loralei to the doorway. “Well, I can’t say I’ll see the other agents tonight. They’re out looking for her. You three best stay in here. Keep quiet and then head out to Denver at first light.” Sam pushed her behind him as he started to back out the doorway. “The government is paying us by the head. Fifty dollars a piece for every trapper we bring in that doesn’t have their permits.”
“Gall-damn government!” Archie proclaimed. “Ever since that damn war, this country’s been going to hell in a hand basket, I tell ya.”
“You three best douse the fire and stay hid for the night,” Sam said.
Loralei slipped out of the doorway. The cool night air entered her lungs, but her legs filled with pins and needles. She pressed a hand against the side of the rock wall to keep upright.
“Hey, why you being so nice to us?” the skinny one’s screeching voice asked.
Sam stalled in the doorway. “Because I just turned in three trappers last week. I figure I can let you three go, and still make plenty of money. After all it’s not really fair of the government to enforce such laws when most of the trappers haven’t even heard about it yet.”
“Well, say there, that’s right kind of you,” Archie said. “We’re much obliged.”
“Yeah, well, douse the fire before one of the other agents comes along.” Sam twisted and grabbed her hand. The sizzle of water hitting flames, and the stomping of boots sounded behind them as he demanded, “Come on.”
Loralei hitched her skirt with her free hand to keep from tripping over the hem as Sam pulled her down a narrow trail. After stumbling for about the fifth time, she asked, “Sam, why are we in such a hurry?”
“Because they might follow us,” he whispered.
She lowered her voice, and tried to keep up. “But you told them to stay put.”
“Yes, but we don’t know they will.” He ducked under a low hanging patch of branches.
She followed. “But if they don’t have permits, they won’t want to get caught by the other agents.”
“I lied.” He tugged harder on her hand and let out a low whistle.
“You lied?”
“Yes!” Pulling her out of the bushes and onto the well-worn trail, he said, “It was the only thing I could think of to save you.”
“You mean you lied about the other agents?”
“Yes!” He grabbed her waist and in one swift movement planted her on top of her saddle.
“What about the permits? Do they really need them?”
He let out a loud sigh as he swung into his saddle. “Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it, have you?”
She took a moment to feel the back of her head. There was no blood, or moisture, but a lump filled her palm. “No, I haven’t.”
He looked at her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, grasping the reins.
“Can you ride?”
“Yes.”
“Good, we have to put some distance between us and them.”
“But you told them to stay put.”
“I know. But who knows if they’ll listen.”
“But—” His hand covered her mouth.
“We have to ride, Loralei, now!”
The trail was treacherous at night. The huge boulders and large ruts were hard to make out with the thin light of the moon, but they pushed on. Sam paused every now and again, asking her condition. Loralei, head pounding, assured him she was fine, and rode on.
It wasn’t until the sun was bright overhead, and the horses sluggish, that she asked, “Sam, can we stop for just a little bit?” Her pain had grown into a steady, deep ache. “My head hurts.”
Sam’s heart stopped at her slurred her words. He wrenched on the reins, pulling King to a quick halt. “Loralei?”
Her eyes, glassy and rolling, looked at him for a brief moment before she slumped over the saddle horn.
“Loralei!” He caught her face with both hands. “Loralei?” Her lashes didn’t even flutter.
They’d traveled out of the high country. The rolling hills of Wyoming lay before them and on the horizon stood the faint images of Rock Creek. Sam scooped her off Raindrop and cradled her in his lap. Holding her head against his chest, he nudged King forward, praying the animal had the stamina to get them to town.
He’d released the mules the trappers had staked outside of their cave, so their ability to come after him and Loralei was greatly diminished, but that wasn’t what filled his chest with fear. Damn it, why hadn’t he checked her for injuries? The lump on the back of her head was as big as his hand.
One of the trapper’s had said she’d bumped her head. Why hadn’t he looked? He’d been in such a hurry to get away, get her to safety, he hadn’t thought of it. Since the moment Ruth had led him to the cave, where he’d seen her lying on the rocks and the men swig
ging rot-gut and boasting about their furs, his only thoughts had been to get her out of there.
The story about the government passing a fur trapping law had been in one of his father’s many law chronicles. He hadn’t read the article, but the headline had all of a sudden jumped into his mind, and the rest of the tale just fell out as he opened his mouth. He’d needed a way to get the upper hand, but deep down, it wasn’t too comforting to know he saved the woman he loved with a bold-faced lie. Perhaps he was his father’s son.
The air in his lungs grew as heavy as mud. Sam had to cough to lessen the pressure. Loralei let out a slight groan, and he held her tighter to his chest. It was true. He was in love with her. Probably had been since the moment he saw those lilac colored eyes.
Damn if his life wasn’t a mess. The woman he loved might be dying in his arms. He was engaged to wed another as soon as he returned to Louisiana, and the man he was supposedly after—the mission that would once and for all prove to his father he was a competent, full-grown man—hadn’t entered his mind for the last week. In all honesty, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he ever found Ty Bancroft. Oh, and to top it all off, the only way he could save someone was to make up a lie as big and deep as the Mississippi.
Perhaps his father was right. He’d never amount to anything. Maybe he should have stayed at the ranch and played with his horses.
Chapter Ten
Loralei woke to the fresh scent of clean sheets. She sighed, rubbing her cheek against the pillow. A voice whispered her name. She tried to open her eyes, but only half-heartedly, not wanting to leave the comfort of her dreamlike existence.
The voice came again, louder, and she pried her lids apart. Her heart beat doubled as Sam’s handsome face appeared before her nose. She grinned and let her lids flutter shut.
“Hello, sleepy-head.”
“Hello,” she greeted.
“How do you feel?”
“Hmm, wonderful,” she admitted. How could she be anything but? The bed was soft and comfortable and the most wonderful man on earth was beside her. Reflecting upon her thoughts, she jolted awake.