Teton Romance Trilogy Bundle: Includes Yellowstone Proposal (Short Story)

by Peggy L Henderson

  An itchy fur cap had been his solution to keeping her hair hidden during their rare encounter with people so high up in the mountains. Oversized heavy buckskins and furs had completed her disguise. Even during the time more than a year ago, when all the commotion occurred with that killer, Oliver Sabin, no one had suspected a thing. All those people who had crowded her cabin that day had thought she was Jasper Williams’ son, Vic.

  Tori cursed that day. Her eyes stung with a sudden flood of tears. She wished she could have killed Oliver Sabin herself. Because of him, she’d lost even more than what she’d already lost three years prior. Perhaps it would have been better if the fever had claimed her. She’d barely made it through the winter without starving.

  Her stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food. For the first time, she noticed the pleasant aroma coming from the kettle over the fire. Tori licked her lips and moved toward the hearth. Her mouth watered when she inhaled deeply of the rich aroma of meat and broth simmering in the iron pot.

  Her heart sped up. Who had come to her aid, and how long had she been asleep? She glanced around the room. Other than Papa’s rumpled bed, there was no evidence of another person having been here. Judging by the coals and the flames that licked at half-burned logs, the person hadn’t left too long ago. Tori’s eyes darted to the cabin door. She usually kept her rifle propped along the wall right next to it. The space was empty. She needed a weapon. Until she knew whom she was dealing with, she needed to be extra cautious. Dread consumed her. If it was anyone other than Black Sparrow, someone else now knew about her.

  A loud male voice drifted in from beyond the walls of her cabin. It was definitely not Black Sparrow. Tori’s mouth went dry.

  “You’re gonna go in that stew pot the next time you decide to run off on me. Even if I have to walk all the way back down this mountain.”

  A horse snorted loudly. Tori’s eyes darted around, looking for any sort of weapon. Where the hell were her clothes and rifle? She rushed to her bunk, and dropped to her knees, blinking away the blackness that swirled in front of her eyes. Reaching under the bed, she pulled a wooden box from underneath the frame. With trembling hands, she lifted the lid and grabbed the hilt of a knife from a leather sheath. Her father’s prized Bowie knife. She’d kept it safely hidden all this time. It was the only readily available weapon at the moment, until she could find her rifle.

  Tori quickly pushed the box back under the bed, and scrambled to her feet. The pounding in her head increased. She’d barely stood upright, when the door creaked loudly, and a cold blast of air whipped her hair around her face. She raised the knife in front of her, and turned. A man in buckskin britches and a heavy fur coat filled the frame. Snowflakes glistened in his black hair. He stopped in mid-stride and his eyes locked with hers. Tori held her breath. He looked vaguely familiar.

  His gaze moved from the knife in her hand to her face, then down the length of her to linger along her exposed legs with a familiarity that sent heat creeping up her neck. His stare deepened when it rested on her face.

  “That’s far enough,” Tori warned between clenched teeth. She squared her shoulders and straightened her back.

  A wide mischievous grin spread across the man’s face, and his eyes twinkled in apparent amusement. Tori’s hand balled into a fist, itching to wipe that cheeky smirk off his face. He was too dangerously handsome for his own good. Tori swallowed, even as her mouth went dry. Mentally, she shook her head. The fever must have affected her thinking. She had no business noticing a man, good-looking or otherwise.

  Ignoring her warning, he stepped fully into the cabin, turned his back to her, and casually closed the door. Slowly, he removed the heavy coat he wore, and hung it on the peg protruding from the wall next to the door as if he owned the place.

  Tori didn’t contemplate her actions. She raised her right arm despite the pulling pain above her breast, took quick aim at the man’s chest, and threw the knife with as much force as she could produce. With reflexes the likes of which she had never seen, he ducked and twisted out of the weapon’s path, and the knife lodged in the door behind him where a fraction of a second ago his chest should have been. Tori suppressed a gasp. Dammit! How could she miss at such close range? Now she was completely without a weapon.

  The man straightened, glanced quickly at the knife, then moved his head to glare at her. The grin on his face widened.

  “Still as friendly as I remember, I see.” He stepped toward the table, and carelessly tossed several de-feathered and gutted ptarmigans onto the table, his eyes never leaving her. “Maybe you should try and be a bit more hospitable, Vic.”

  Her eyes widened. Recognition finally came to her. Lucas Walker!

  Chapter 4

  Lucas peeled his eyes away from the girl, and turned. It probably wasn’t a good idea to face away from her. She might throw something else at him. In fact, she would, no doubt, do exactly that at her next opportunity. Obviously he’d overlooked the knife when he’d searched the cabin for weapons. Her reaction to him was no less than what he expected.

  She hadn’t been too friendly the last time he was here, and back then he had assumed she was a boy. Now that the truth was out, there was no telling what she might do. There had to be a damn good reason why she and Jasper had felt a need to keep her gender hidden. Lucas could only think of one, but something told him that there was more to it than simply keeping her safe from the leering eyes of lonely trappers in these mountains. Why the hell would Williams bring his daughter to the mountains in the first place?

  He reached for the handle of the Bowie knife she’d thrown at him. The tip was lodged deep in the wood grain of the cabin door, and he had to push it up and down a few times to dislodge it. While he maintained a casual stance, his ears honed in to any sound behind him. If she moved even slightly, he’d know it.

  “Where are my clothes, Walker?” she demanded. The corners of Lucas’ lips twitched. She remembered him.

  She spoke in a loud and authoritative tone, which belied her small frame, but there was also a slight unsteadiness in her voice. She was scared as hell, but she’d die before she’d admit it.

  He turned around to face her. He rotated the knife in front of him, and studied the flames of the fire as they reflected in the shiny blade.

  “Looks like you’re wearing them,” he answered with a casual shrug, knowing full well the shirt she wore wasn’t hers. Truth be told, he had a hard time keeping his eyes above her waist. That shirt barely reached her knees, leaving most of her slender legs bared for his view. For the last two days, he’d kept her covered as best as he could, and his eyes averted while tending to her. Seeing her standing in front of him now, one hand on her hip, glaring daggers at him, jolted every primordial male instinct in him to life. She was breathtaking, even in her weakened state. Her eyes weren’t as sharp as they would be once she was fully recovered, but they gleamed with a murderous intensity nonetheless. Her hair could use a good raking with a brush, but the soft wisps of golden strands changed color in the flickering light of the fire like a mountain sunset, playing with his senses.

  Lucas stepped toward the hearth, and she backed away, maintaining her distance. Her head turned quickly in one direction, then the other. She was looking for something to use as a weapon.

  Hell, there was no reason for her to act like some skittish deer. Lucas frowned. He flipped the knife in his hand, catching the blade end, and held the handle out to her. He might regret his action later, but he didn’t need for her to be afraid.

  “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He gauged her reaction. Her eyes widened, and darted quickly from his face to the weapon he offered. “I expect you’ll return the favor.” His mouth curved in a grin.

  The girl lunged forward and grabbed the knife from his hand, then retreated just as quickly. She shot him a suspicious look.

  “Then why am I without my clothes? And where’s my rifle?” Her voice rose in anger. A weapon in her hand seemed to have renewed her confidence.
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br />   Lucas leaned over the cast iron pot hanging on the tripod in the hearth.

  “Supper’s done. I bet you must be hungry.”

  “Answer my question, dammit.” She rushed up to him, the knife inches from his throat.

  Lucas grabbed her wrist, applying just enough pressure to force her to drop the weapon. The knife fell to the floor with a dull thud. The girl twisted and struggled against his hold on her, and her free hand swung around and shoved against his chest. He caught her other wrist, just as she brought her knee up to connect with his groin.

  Lucas coughed and toppled forward. Stars twinkled in front of his eyes, and for a second he thought he might be sick. She had good aim.

  “Dammit, you little hellion.” He released her left wrist, and quickly snaked his arm around her middle, spinning her around. He pulled her up tightly against him to prevent her from inflicting any more damage.

  “Why the hell do you have to be so disagreeable?” He leaned forward and growled in her ear. His gut clenched painfully. Dammit, his privates might be swollen in the morning from her assault.

  The girl’s chest heaved as she struggled against him, and Lucas nudged her forward. When she dug her heels into the dirt, he lifted her slightly off the ground.

  “Are you going to force me to tie you to your bed, woman?” he asked between clenched teeth. Her breasts grazed against his arm with each breath she took, and Lucas cursed silently. He managed to maneuver her to her bunk, and unceremoniously dumped her on top of the mattress. She scrambled into the corner, and thankfully pulled a blanket up over her legs.

  Lucas ran his hand over his face, and glared at her. “Unbristle your fur, and I’ll explain,” he grumbled. He leaned forward, bracing his arms against the front of his thighs.

  What the hell had he gotten himself into? All he’d wanted was a roof over his head for one night to get out of the weather. Instead, he had to meet up with the likes of this . . . this female. Even a Blackfoot woman was more agreeable than this little spitfire. He’d never come across a woman who was more hostile than she was. Or more beautiful, Walker.

  “Explain,” she ordered, her stare as cold as the late winter storm that had raged outside for the last two days.

  “I figured you got more than one pair of britches around here somewhere, but I couldn’t find any,” Lucas said slowly. He watched her through narrowed eyes. The pain in his groin eased, and he tentatively straightened his posture.

  She squirmed under the blanket, a mixture of fear and anger in her stare. Lucas stepped back until his thigh connected with one of the chairs at the table. He pulled it out, and eased himself onto the seat. He might be sick after all. Damn. She got him good. His eyes darted to the knife on the ground a few feet away. Trying to gain her trust by handing her the weapon had obviously been a mistake. It was safer with him, or he might not get any sleep tonight. She was likely to slit his throat when he wasn’t looking.

  “I wasn’t taking liberties with you,” he said, reading the accusation in her eyes. “After your little spat with that wolverine a couple of days ago, you—”

  “Couple of days ago?” She nearly leapt off the bed, but apparently thought better of it. She winced, and her hand flew to grip at her chest. That claw mark was deep. It had started to heal nicely, but after all that moving around and struggling, Lucas wasn’t so sure that it wouldn’t break open again. Her blanket fell away, exposing one of her thighs. Lucas’ eyes locked onto the enticing view. Why all of a sudden did she look like such a desirable woman, when, for two days while he’d tended to her, he hadn’t taken notice?

  He forced his eyes from her leg to stare into the fire. Hell, who was he kidding? Of course he’d noticed. He’d tried hard not to notice.

  “I brought you here after you lost consciousness. That wolverine sliced you up good. You, ah, might want to check and see that it ain’t bleeding again.” Lucas waved his hand at her chest.

  Vic remained silent. Mercifully, she tucked her leg back under the blanket. Maybe it was time to go and retrieve her clothes, for his own sanity.

  “Your britches are outside. I couldn’t save your shirt.” Lucas scratched at the back of his neck. Why the hell hadn’t he thought to bring her britches inside to dry by the fire sooner? He hadn’t expected her to be awake after his return from checking on his horse and plucking the birds he’d shot earlier.

  “You undressed me outside?”

  He squirmed in his seat from her accusing stare. He swallowed, and sat up straighter. She might as well know how close she’d come to dying.

  “I had no choice, Vic. You were burning up with fever. I took you outside before the storm hit because I couldn’t bring enough snow into the cabin to cool you off. By the time your body temperature came down, your britches were soaking wet. You started shivering. I was trying to save your life. I didn’t know if you were going to pull through or not.”

  Lucas stood, and faced away from her. The last couple of days had been exhausting. He’d tended to her as best as he could. When her body heated, he brought her outside to bathe her in the snow, then wrapped her back in a blanket when the shivers started. He’d never had a person depend on him for survival the way she had. He’d held her in his arms to keep her warm during the nights, and spooned broth into her mouth for hours during the day to keep her nourished.

  “You were delirious most of the time. Talking a bunch of nonsense in your sleep.” Lucas turned to face her. “I’ll go get your britches. They’ll be a bit cold, though.”

  When he reached for the door handle, a blanket scraped against fur behind him. Lucas spun around. Vic scrambled from the bed and dove for the knife on the ground. He braced himself for another attack. She clutched the weapon in her hand, and waved it at him.

  “Thanks for your help, but I can take it from here. When you open that door, you can just keep going. I’ll get my own britches.”

  Lucas studied her for a moment. She held the knife in her right hand, and her left came up to touch her chest. She grimaced. The little minx was in a lot of pain. He’d bet his Sharpe’s Rifle that her wound had split open again.

  “You’re in no condition to take care of yourself.” Lucas turned fully toward her. “There’s more snow on the way for tonight. How are you going to keep this cabin heated? It might get a smidge cold.”

  She stood up straighter, and her chin lifted in defiance. A slow grin spread across Lucas’ face. He’d seen that sort of gesture plenty of times from his sister-in-law, Sophie. It always meant that her feathers were ruffled. This girl in front of him was more like a porcupine cornered by a wolf. And he’d be damned if he’d get stung by her quills a second time.

  “My pa will be back soon. He’ll kill you after he sees what you’ve done to me.” Her eyes narrowed on him.

  Lucas straightened. What he’d done to her? Hell, all he’d done was save her life. She was too damn stubborn to even listen to what he’d said. He almost laughed at her pathetic attempt to scare him. Almost. His face sobered, and he faced her fully.

  “Vic.” He paused, and cleared his throat. “You know as well as I do that your pa ain’t comin’ back.”

  Her eyes widened, and shimmered. She blinked hastily, and her fingers clenched tighter around her knife. Lucas cursed under his breath. How long had she been alone? It was a question that had nagged him during the long hours since he found her. There were no supplies in this cabin, only a handful of bullets that he could find for her rifle, and the stack of firewood had long been depleted to a few sticks.

  Unsure of his next move or what to say, he glanced toward the fire, then back at her. She looked so small and vulnerable at the moment, but looks could be deceiving. She had a warrior’s fighting heart, or else she wouldn’t have survived any time at all. That grave he’d stumbled across along the nearby creek had been dug long before winter hit. His admiration for her grew in leaps and bounds. How could he take away the mistrust in her eyes?

  Lucas ran his hand along his jaw. “I’m going
to get your britches, and you can . . . ah, make yourself decent and check on that wound while I bring in more firewood.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned, pulled his coat off the peg on the wall, and opened the cabin door. A blast of icy air greeted him. Before he stepped fully out into the cold, he added, “If you bar this door, I will break it down. You have my word on that.”

  * * * * *

  Tori inhaled a sharp breath. The throbbing above her breast nearly blinded her. Every time she moved, the pain intensified. She had to check her wound, but not with Lucas Walker in the cabin. On unsteady legs, she stumbled back to her bunk, and sank onto the mattress.

  “Dammit,” she whispered, and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. He’d be back any moment, and she couldn’t allow him to see her weak. She shoved the knife under her pillow, and waited. The door creaked open not a moment later, and Lucas tossed her britches into the cabin. They landed in a heap on the ground in front of her, and without so much as a glance her way, he pulled the door shut again.

  Tori grabbed for her clothes. She instantly regretted her quick move as pain ripped through her chest. She ignored it, and pushed her legs into the pants, pulling them up past her hips. The leather was stiff from the cold, and she shivered. If she wasn’t in such a hurry to get dressed, she would have laid them out in front of the hearth to warm up, but wearing more than just her father’s old shirt gave her some measure of security.

  Tori laughed. What did it really matter? Lucas Walker had already seen more of her than anyone else except . . .

  That was different. You were in love with him.

  Tori forced the memory from her mind. If she dwelled too long on the past, she’d surely break down in tears. She had to focus on the present. She was just grateful that she didn’t remember any of the humiliation of lying unconscious while Lucas . . . He seemed like a decent man. Hadn’t Papa always spoken highly of Walker’s father? Lucas seemed to be genuinely concerned for her.