A monstrous grizzly rose on its hind legs below her, swiping up into the branches, its mouth open and snarling.
Emmylou’s heart slammed into her throat.
Not knowing what else to do, not thinking, only knowing she had to protect Deborah at all costs, Emmylou hiked her skirts and ran straight across the meadow. Her feet flew over the logs spanning the creek, and her hair streamed out, falling from its pins and draping across her eyes like a shawl. She shouted, her voice barely clearing the lump in her throat.
The bear ignored her, planting its huge paws against the tree trunk and shoving. The entire aspen shuddered, and Deborah screamed again.
“Hang on! I’m coming!” The words were snatched away from Emmylou as she ran. Though what she would do when she got there, she didn’t know. All she knew was she had to get to Deborah.
She stumbled in the grass and fell headlong, sprawling and tumbling. Bouncing up, her legs tangled with what had tripped her. A branch. She snatched it up and raced on. Behind her came a masculine shout, but she didn’t stop.
The bear shook the tree again, sending a cascade of leaves floating down. It was so focused on Deborah, it didn’t even notice Emmylou until she swung the branch and cracked it across the bear’s back.
With a roar, the animal dropped onto all fours and swung its boulder-sized head around. Lips snarling, teeth dripping with slobber, another meaty bellow blasted from its throat.
Stunned, Emmylou dropped the branch and backed away. The animal rose again and swatted as she dodged, barely missing her with its rapacious claws.
Deborah’s first scream made Bear drop his ax onto the woodchips at his feet. Emmylou’s shout had him snatching up his rifle and racing across the grass. He spied Emmylou, hair like a red flag behind her, running for all she was worth—toward a grizzly! Was she out of her mind? He thundered after her. Not bothering with the bridge, he leaped the creek. Emmylou tumbled to the ground, arms flailing, but she popped up again, this time dragging something behind her.
“Get down! Lie down and curl up!”
She appeared not to hear him, instead swinging a stick—a stick!—at the angry beast as if she could slap it away like a fly.
She managed to dodge the first swing of a paw, ducking behind the tree trunk, but he knew she wouldn’t get so lucky again. Though farther away than he would’ve liked, he had run out of time. He knelt in the grass a hundred yards away, bracing his elbow on his knee and sighting down the barrel of his rifle.
The gunshot reverberated through the glade. His shoulder absorbed the recoil as he jacked another shell into the gun breech and fired again. The sow bear jerked, but she didn’t stop her pursuit. She swung her head, jaws slavering, darting around the aspen and lumbering toward Emmylou.
Two, three, four shots. One splintered off a tree trunk, but he was sure the others had reached their target. Why didn’t the animal go down?
Emmylou quit dodging and leaped at a spruce tree, climbing the branches, hindered by her skirts. Her sobbing reached him, sending a chill into his core. He snapped off another shot then stood and waved his arm, shouting at the grizzly.
She turned toward him, snarling, and started his way. Fat from a summer of grazing and berry picking, her coat rippled with each ground-eating bound.
Now that she faced him, he knew he would have to break her down in order to stop her. His rifle would never penetrate that skull, not even at this distance. He dropped to his knee again and shot at first one forepaw and then the other.
With his second shot, the bear tumbled, her momentum sending her tail over tip. Before he could relax, she was getting to her feet once more.
He ejected the spent shell. “Stand up, stand up, stand up … Please, God, make her stand up.” Praying that Emmylou and Deborah had the sense to get higher in their trees and stay there, he aimed.
Just as he prayed, the grizzly rose on her hind legs, exposing her belly. This time he paused, let out his breath, held it, and squeezed, aiming just right of center, where her heart would be.
The bear sank to the ground as if her bones had melted. He lowered his rifle, bracing it against the ground and leaning his forehead on his hands where they grasped the warm barrel. His breath came in gulps, and his heart pounded in his ears.
“Boy howdy, did you see that? You sure saved us, didn’t you, Bear? Hey, Bear saved us from a bear.” Deborah shinnied down the tree like a chipmunk, dropping the last couple of feet. She had a leaf in her hair and a dirt smudge on her cheek, but her eyes sparkled, and she grinned at him as if she hadn’t nearly been killed.
Bear’s hands shook, and he swallowed, unable to speak. He felt cold all over, shaky, as if he’d been ill for a long time. The little horror didn’t even know the danger she’d been in. Just thinking of her big eyes and tiny bones, all that life and chatter and motion in the clutches of an angry grizzly, made his knees wobble.
Emmylou descended more slowly, looking as shaky as he felt. A trickle of blood stood out boldly from a cut on her pale temple, and her hair spilled down her shoulders. Spruce needles, twigs, and grass caught in the fiery locks.
He’d almost lost them.
The chill in his belly turned to fire.
“What in thunder did you think you were doing?” His knees firmed up, and he jumped to his feet, towering above them. “That grizzly almost killed you! If I hadn’t come running, you’d be dead right now, the both of you! What were you thinking charging across the meadow like that?”
Emmylou blinked, freezing in her tracks. “I … I … don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He yanked the knife from the scabbard on his belt. He pointed it at Deborah, who was far too unabashed for his sanity. “I told you not to wander, didn’t I? My rules aren’t just suggestions for you to consider. You’re too wild for your own good, and it’s going to stop even if I have to chain you to a chair. Now get back to the cabin and bring my horse and a rope, and don’t you stop to lollygag or chat with the birds, got it?”
Deborah’s lip trembled, and her chin came up a notch. She fisted her hands and blinked hard, turning on her heels and marching toward the house. Bear felt like a heel yelling at her, but by sugar, she needed to be more careful. What if he’d been up at his claim, or walking his trap line?
The moment Deborah was out of earshot, Emmylou gave him an earful he was in no mood to hear.
“You didn’t need to shout at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. She was just playing under the trees. It isn’t as if she enticed a bear close and poked it in the eye.” Emmylou tried to smooth her hair out of her face, but her hands were shaking. She came away with a smear of blood on her hand.
“You were both nearly killed!” How could he make them understand?
“I know. But your rule was to stay within sight of the cabin. Deborah did that. It isn’t her fault that a bear chased her.”
He didn’t know whether to grab her up tight and hold her until he stopped being afraid or shake her until her teeth rattled for scaring him in the first place. To avoid doing either, he began field-dressing the carcass. The sow grizzly would go a good four hundred pounds if she weighed an ounce. Her claws were inches long, capable of eviscerating an elk, and her teeth … His hand shook so that he nearly dropped the knife.
The words wouldn’t stay behind his teeth, no matter how tight he gritted them. “That doesn’t explain what you were doing running right at a grizzly. Talk about a babe in the woods. You need a full-time minder. I never should’ve brought you up here. Not any of you. You had one job to do, look out for the girls, and what do you do? Let one get chased up a tree then put yourself in danger by smacking a bear with a switch. I should’ve sent those girls right back where they came from, and you, too.”
She gasped and flinched as if he’d slapped her. Moisture gathered on her lashes and plummeted down her cheeks. Without a word she lowered her head and turned toward the cabin. He regretted his words before they’d even died away in the crisp air, but he didn’t call her
back.
Chapter 5
Bear gave a mighty heave and sank the ax deep into the tree trunk, taking his frustrations out on the wood. Two more arcing whacks and the branches began to quiver. He moved away to avoid any kickback and watched as the pine landed within a foot of where he’d intended.
But there was no satisfaction in the accomplishment. Around him stillness invaded the forest. No happy chatter, no questions, no endless movement. In the two days since the bear attack, Emmylou had kept the girls at the cabin with her.
Which is just what he’d told her to do, so his getting twitchy about it made no sense. Not that much had made sense ever since the girls had barged into his life.
But this time he was to blame. He’d blown it. He’d let his temper get the best of him, lashing out because he’d been scared, saying things he didn’t really mean. And he had no idea how to fix it. It wasn’t like he could unsay the words, erase the hurt that shone out of four pairs of eyes.
Bear’s pa had been of the “least-said-soonest-mended” school of thought. No profit in dragging it out and examining it all over again. Just put it away and go about your life. Folks got over things, right?
Except nobody seemed to be getting over it, not even him. Every time he returned to the cabin, they scattered like quail. Tabitha ran to the bunk and grabbed up her dolly, Miriam watched him from the corner of her eye as she went about her tasks. Worst of all, Deborah crept around with her chin on her chest, her feet dragging. His little I-can-whip-my-weight-in-wildcats Deborah had disappeared.
And Emmylou. His conscience kept kicking him in the backside every time he looked at her. The light had gone out of her eyes, the spring from her step, and worse yet, she had stopped talking to him. The evenings were silent as she mended. He couldn’t concentrate on his reading. He didn’t work on his traps. He didn’t do anything.
Lopping branches off the fallen tree, he pressed his lips together. Well, tonight things were going to change. If he’d broken it, he could fix it, that was all. He’d tell them to stop skulking around and go back to the way they had been.
“McCall, where you at?”
Charlie.
Bear picked up his rifle, shouldered it along with his ax, and picked his way down the mountainside. “Coming!”
Charlie sat atop his mule, his white beard poking out every which way, and his buckskins greasy and dark. As always, he scorned a hat, his hair straggling down his shoulders and mingling with the fringe on his jacket. He dug inside his shirt and pulled out a battered envelope.
“Don’t know when I became your personal Pony Express, but there’s a letter for you. Some lawyer in Denver. Figured I’d best bring it up since it looked so official and all.”
A chill hit Bear’s gut. The last time Charlie brought him a letter it had turned his world upside down. He took the envelope.
“You got time for supper?”
“That gal cookin’?” He cocked his head.
“Yeah. And she has a name. Emmylou.” Bear continued past Charlie, who whirled his mule and followed.
“How’s that workin’ out? I never thought I’d see the day you got hitched, much less had a passel of little girls runnin’ around. Not after listenin’ to you spout off about how there was no place in your life for a woman, not ever again, amen.” Charlie chuckled.
Bear grunted and lengthened his stride. The cabin came into view, and his chest swelled a bit at the sight of smoke coming from the chimney and a line of little girls’ clothes drying in the autumn sun. Deborah sat cross-legged on his splitting stump, a crown of leaves on her head, plucking berries from a twig. When she spied him and Charlie, she hopped up and hustled inside. Emmylou came to the door, a sack-apron at her waist.
Charlie slid off his mule.
Bear gripped his rifle stock. “I invited Charlie to supper. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. It’s your house.” She stared at the mountain over his shoulder.
So she still wasn’t past it.
“How are the girls?” He leaned his rifle and ax against the side of the house and dunked his hands in the washbasin on the bench by the door.
“Fine. They all stayed close.” Her hands knotted in her apron. “Just like you wanted.”
He didn’t know whether to be irked or relieved that she had a bit of snap to her voice. Much better if she stormed at him a bit, then they could hash it all out and be done. But she pressed her lips together and disappeared into the cabin.
“Girls, company for dinner, so I’ll need some help. Deborah, fetch me an armload of wood. Miriam, whip me up a batch of biscuit dough for dumplings, and Tabitha, can you set out the cups and plates?”
They did her bidding, though when he came inside, they all stilled for a moment before continuing on with their tasks. He felt like a grouchy old badger at a tea party.
When they all sat at the table, he said grace, though it was gruff and rushed. Truth was, he was embarrassed to be talking to God when so many people—females—were upset at him … and not just upset, but rightly so.
“So, what’s in the letter?” Charlie shoved a dumpling in his mouth. “Best food I’ve et in a while, and that’s includin’ what I had at the café in Idaho Springs this morning, ma’am. If Bear ever tosses you out, you could start a restaurant.”
The girls’ heads swiveled from Bear to Emmylou, who forced a chuckle. “Thank you, Mr. Charlie. I’ll have to remember that. What letter?”
Bear dug it out and opened it, holding the single page toward the lamplight in the middle of the table. Scanning the first paragraph, his mouth went dry and a fist squeezed his throat. He quickly read the rest before tucking it back into his shirt pocket. He gave a quick shake of his head to Emmylou, who took his cue and didn’t ask. Putting his spoon in his dish, he pushed his plate away, appetite gone.
Whatever it was, it was bad. Emmylou wanted to snatch the letter from Bear, but the girls were watching and they had a guest at the table, and Bear’s eyes clearly said “later.”
“Later” turned out to be much later. The girls, catching the jump in tension, had been fractious and out of sorts. And Charlie stayed forever, sitting by the fire and keeping up a running commentary on every person in Idaho Springs. Bear stared at the flames, nodding occasionally, but not listening any more than Emmylou, who sat on her bunk, fingers laced in her lap, waiting.
At last, Charlie heaved himself up and shuffled to the door, bobbing his head in Emmylou’s direction and thanking her again for the dinner. “Thanks for the bed. Don’t wait breakfast on me. I’ll be gone before sunup.”
“He’s putting his bedroll in the toolshed.” Bear got up and threw another log on the fire.
Emmylou blinked. “Is there enough room for both of you?” Bear was a big man, and it was a small shed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sleep out.” His voice was dry as chaff.
“Won’t you be cold?”
“Not any colder than the shed.” He dug the letter out of his pocket. “Don’t worry about that; worry about this.”
She read it, her fingers going to her lips and her heart dropping to her heels.
“Is this legitimate?”
“Dunno.” Bear scratched his beard and leaned forward, planting his forearms on his knees, hands hanging limp. He shrugged. “It sure sounds like it. Official lawyer letterhead and lots of legal-sounding words.”
“What are you going to do?” She didn’t say we. His tirade of a couple days ago had made it quite clear that there was no we.
“Reckon I’ll have to go to Denver and sort it out.”
Emmylou felt as if she’d walked off a cliff in the dark. Here in her hand she held Bear’s ticket out, his way of escape from a burden he’d never wanted.
The girls’ father had shown up and wanted his children back.
Chapter 6
In the end, they all went. The ride down the mountain was much worse than the trip up, and Emmylou wondered if the mule felt the burden of her heavy heart. S
he’d hoped Bear would go alone, leaving her and the girls at the cabin, fearing if they all went, it would be too easy for him to leave them in the city.
The train ride seemed endless, lurching down the track toward Denver. Bear sat hunched in his flannel jacket, one boot propped up on the seat opposite him, as if penning Emmylou and the girls into their seats. He had what Emmylou had heard described as a “thousand-yard stare” going that didn’t invite comment.
Miriam said nothing. Her little mouth was pinched and her eyes sad, looking much like she had the first time Emmylou had seen her, as if she’d seen too much of life and had no expectation that it would get better. They had told her and Deborah about their father and the lawyer’s letter and that they were going to Denver to see what was to be done. Bear had made no promises about fighting to keep the girls, no matter how much Emmylou wanted him to, and she hadn’t made any, either, since everything hinged on him. She couldn’t take the girls herself, not without some way to support them, and even if she could, the court wouldn’t let her, not with blood relatives in the picture.
Deborah wedged herself into the corner of the seat by the window, arms crossed, staring daggers at Bear and Emmylou. Anger and helplessness etched her features. She was such a fighter, but there was no one to fight, no way to gain even a measure of control over her life. Emmylou’s heart broke for Deborah, but when she tried to touch her, the child wriggled away and turned her face to the window.
Tabitha, keyed in on the tension, tucked her finger into her mouth and nestled into Emmylou’s arms. From time to time she popped upright and looked from one sister to the other then at Bear and Emmylou before snuggling once more. Emmylou wrapped her tight in her arms, lightly rubbing her chin across Tabitha’s russet curls, her heart aching at the thought of losing these precious girls.
The train lurched to a stop, and Bear roused. “Don’t straggle. There will be a lot of people here, and I don’t have time to hunt for you if you get lost.”
The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity Page 50