Libby Trembly came to the Place in November. She’d lost her husband and three young children in a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi just south of Dubuque. The young mother had been in shock when she’d arrived. Gema had developed a close bond with her. She knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved at one time.
The pastor and matron of the mission worried Libby might throw herself in the river, so deep was her grief. They called Gema into the office and explained their concern. They wanted to send Libby to Sanctuary House, hoping the move from where she’d suffered such a terrible loss would help her recover and start a new life. Would Gema go with her and watch over the grieving widow?
Gema and Libby had arrived in Stones Creek in January. It seemed the move had allowed Libby to begin to work through her grief. When the outlaw gang had attacked a homestead, killing the owner, leaving the widow, Lucy, and toddler twins behind, they were brought to Sanctuary House, and Libby had taken the grief stricken woman under her wing. Not long after, the measles epidemic struck. Lucy contracted the disease and died, giving her twins to Libby to raise.
Gema had contracted the measles too, but recovered. She’d gone back to her work as a maid in the hotel. Today, she’d been kidnapped by that outlaw gang the Ladies had been warned against as she left to go eat her noon meal.
She was in a predicament and knew it. First, would anyone believe she hadn’t been accosted by the outlaws? If they did, it led to a second. Staying the night with Red alone in the line shack would certainly not be construed as innocent.
He’d been so careful not to see anything more than her outer layers of clothing. It had been funny really. The way he handed her the, what was it called? Union suit? And kept his back to her until she was dressed indicated she was most likely safe in his care.
What was going to come when she went back to Stones Creek? Gema wasn’t going to think about that.
She shuddered. She wasn’t any warmer. Her feet were freezing, as were her hands. Her backside felt as if it was sitting on ice. Gema knew she needed to dry her hair. That meant getting out of the bed and sitting by the stove. She wondered if Red had a brush. The tresses had to be a tangled mess. It would take a long time to work them out.
She closed her eyes, trying to stop her shivering.
“Miss Gema?”
Opening one eye, she saw Red holding a steaming mug. She sat up and reached for the mug. Maybe whatever was in it would help her get warm. Gema had to push the sleeves up to take the cup. The coffee was bitter, but it was hot, and warmth swirled down her throat and into her stomach. She took another swallow.
“Mr. Red.” She’d had as much trouble with his name as he had with hers. They’d agreed soon after they met, while he was courting Laura, to use the title and first name when speaking with each other. “Must dry hair. Need brush, comb.”
He pulled open a drawer in the stand beside the bed and took out a brush. When she started removing the blankets, he protested.
“You need to stay in here. To get warm.”
“No get warm with wet hair. Need to sit by stove. Brush hair to help dry.” Gema took the brush from him.
Red moved a chair closer to the stove. Gema unwrapped her hair as she walked over and sat down.
As she began working out the tangles, Red pulled the table in front of her. “I’m heating up the stew. We can eat while you brush. I’m not the best cook, but I can make a passable stew.”
Gema smiled at him. The warmth from the stove was welcome but didn’t seem to penetrate her skin. She was still shivering.
Neither spoke as he tended the stew, and she de-tangled her hair. Gema shuddered again. This time Red saw her.
“You’re still cold?” he asked.
“Yes. Can’t seem to get warm.”
Red had folded the rest of the garments he’d taken off the line. Picking up a flannel shirt, he came to her. “Let me put this on you. You are used to many more layers than what you have now.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.
Gema felt her cheeks flame. Too bad it didn’t spread to the rest of her body and help her warm up. Red helped her into it, pulling it over her head. The sleeves were too long on this one also, so he rolled the cuffs back.
She flipped her hair out from the back as he moved to the stove. Red dished up two bowls of stew and brought them to the table.
“Are you any warmer?” he asked.
Gema couldn’t suppress the shudder that shook her shoulders. That movement probably gave him the answer. She dropped her gaze to the stew.
They ate in silence. The awkwardness of the situation filled the room. Gema knew what the outcome of this night would be. Most likely, Red did too. Neither wanted to speak the words.
~~~~~
They’d finished the stew, and Gema was working on the tangles in her hair. Red could tell she was still very cold. Her hands trembled as she brushed. Every so often her entire body shook, her shivering trying to warm itself.
Red was standing behind her, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d placed the bowls in a bucket of water. They could be washed in the morning.
How was he going to suggest what he knew needed to be done? He’d been in a similar circumstance before when he and several other cowboys got caught out in a blizzard. It was awkward enough with men. But with a man and a woman— That just made their situation and its outcome even more inevitable.
He was still chilly but nowhere near how cold to the very core he knew she’d gotten. That was so very hard to relieve.
Red stood and rubbed his face with his hands. No point in putting it off. Gema needed to be warmed so she didn’t succumb to lung fever. It was a real possibility. It looked as if her hair was dry. That was good. Having a wet head, everyone knew, could lead to lung fever. He moved in front of her and squatted down.
“Miss Gema? Are you any warmer now that you’re all dry?” A violent shudder jerked through her. Red took the small hand that still had the bluish cast to it in his. “Miss Gema— Gema. There’s a way to get you warm. I haven’t suggested it before because— well, you’re a woman, a single woman trapped here with me, a single man.”
She lifted her eyelids, and the pool of her deep blue eyes studied his face warily.
“It’s bundling. We share the warmth of the bed. Our body heat trapped beneath the blankets creates sort of a cocoon. My body heat will warm you.”
Gema’s eyes got wide. Shock was written on her face.
“No, honey. We’ll both be fully clothed. You can even put on some of my trousers if you want.” He pointed to the tan canvas pants folded on a corner of the table. “And socks. I have a pair you can wear. That will help you too.” Red got up and retrieved the items.
Another shudder wracked her body as he set the garments in her lap. She needed to agree soon, or he was afraid she’d become ill.
“I—I need to— before.” Gema’s face turned bright red.
He figured out what her problem was. “Oh, yeah. I’ll just go check the animals. There’s the chamber pot.” He pointed to the corner. Grabbing his coat and hat, Red donned them and fled out the door. He’d give her plenty of time to finish her business before he returned. He’d take care of his needs too.
~~~~~
Gema stared at the door as it closed. What he suggested would seal their fate. Not that it wasn’t already decided. That had happened when they arrived here at the line shack rather than going to the ranch homestead or to Stones Creek. Maybe she should have told him to take her home.
Gema didn’t know how far the town was. It could be too far away to get to town today. The vastness of the plains she and Libby had crossed coming to Colorado had reminded her of the Russian countryside.
No matter, they were here and wishing it was different wasn’t going to change anything.
Gema took care of nature’s call. It was a struggle to figure out how to use the drop seat. She put the socks on, then the trousers. The waist was too big and the hips a bit tigh
t. She was slender, so surprised her. Red must be very slim hipped. Gema hadn’t noticed that before. Not that she took note of men’s hips. That wasn’t proper.
Just as she finished braiding her hair, a knock sounded, and the door opened, admitting Red back into the cabin. When he took his coat off, turning to hang it and his hat on a hook, Gema couldn’t keep her eyes from his backside. Her face flamed. Why couldn’t her blushes lend their heat to her body rather than just her face?
She jerked her eyes up when he turned around. They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Red cleared his throat.
“Um, are you ready to bundle? I promise I won’t do anything other than share my body heat.” Red walked over to stand in front of her. “I promise.”
“I promise, too.”
Cracking a grin at her, he said, “I didn’t think you would, but I’m glad to know I don’t have to worry.”
Red took her hand and led her to the bed. He helped her settle in and tucked the blankets tightly under her as she lay on her side facing the edge. He walked around to the other side and stood there. Gema waited. When he didn’t get in, she looked over her shoulder at him.
“Mr. Red?”
His steel gray eyes met hers. He cleared his throat. “Um, I need to turn down the lamps.” She watched as he did so, leaving one lit with the wick turned low. He used the boot jack to remove his boots and pulled his belt from the loops.
He came back around the bed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then, he lifted the blankets and climbed in.
The bed sagged, pushing them together. Red snuggled against her, his chest to her back. An arm slipped around her waist. Within moments, warmth began to seep through the layers of clothing between them. He tucked his feet around the ice that were hers. Very slowly, her shivering lessened.
Gema stared at the small flame in the lantern sitting on the table. She was so comfortable. Still cold, but not as much. This bundling was working. Her eyes drifted shut as she thought how protected she felt within the circle of his arms.
~~~~~
Holding Gema as they shared their body heat sent conflicting thoughts and feelings through Red. A woman’s body pressed against his definitely felt wonderful, even with both of them fully clothed. He grinned in the darkness. She looked so funny standing there in his Union suit. In a way like a child dressed in a parent’s clothing, hands, and feet hidden in the length of the sleeves and legs. But there was nothing childlike about the curves the red cloth outlined. No siree.
Red liked that she was rather tall and slim, but with abundant curves in the places a man appreciated. In his mind, he pictured her expressive blue eyes. Set at a slant, they spoke of her Russian origins. Such dark blue, they looked like a mountain lake so deep you could never reach the bottom.
Red held her against his chest and felt her shivering lessen. The bundling was working. He said a prayer as he drifted to sleep, asking that she not sicken from her prolonged exposure to the wet and cold.
Sunlight easing over the windowsill brought Red to the awareness of a head tucked under his chin, an arm around his waist, and leg thrown across his hip. Seems that Gema had turned over during the night and decided he was pretty comfortable to sleep against. Red eased himself away and out of bed, being careful not to let too much cold air in. And the room was definitely cold.
Sticking his feet into his boots, Red moved to the window. His shoulders slumped. At least a foot of snow had turned the promise of spring back into winter. The only good thing was that since it was late March it wouldn’t last long. Of course, when it melted, the ground would be a muddy mess.
It did make brewing coffee easy though. Red took the pot outside and scooped snow into it. He’d get a bucket to fill when he went to tend the animals.
Gema stood looking out the window when Red returned after his trip to the lean-to. The forlorn look on her face told him what he needed to know about her mood. He could tell she was aware of their predicament. Knew what was to come when they were able to go back to Stones Creek. That wouldn’t be today though.
The next day saw the snow melting. Red rode out for a short time to see if they could cross the creek that divided Hawk’s Wing Ranch in two. It was high and rushing with meltwater. If it was just him, he’d go. But Red didn’t want to take Gema across. Didn’t want to risk her getting wet again. She didn’t seem to be suffering ill effects of her drenching and prolonged cold.
“Tomorrow I’ll go and see if the creek is down some. Maybe we can head to town then.” They were eating beans and bacon for their supper. Gema had fixed them, complaining there was nothing to make them taste good. He’d laughed at her comment.
“We go tomorrow, no matter what. Need to get to town. My friends, they worry. Must show I’m okay.” The look Gema gave him emphasized her words.
“We’ll see. If it’s too high, we won’t attempt it. I won’t risk us.”
The next morning Red scouted the creek again and determined that they could head to town. There was more than just getting her back to her friends spurring him to the decision. Another night in bed with her had him dreaming of more than just bundling.
They rode to Hawk’s Wing Ranch homestead to leave Milly, the donkey they’d brought along there. Hawk’s surprise was evident.
“The deputy came by the other day asking if we’d seen anything. Glad you were able to escape, ma’am,” Hawk said as a cowboy led Milly away. Hawk tipped his hat at Gema. “Juanita,” Hawk yelled into the house. “She’ll help you freshen up a bit before you head to town. Get a bite to eat, too, and some coffee.”
A short Mexican woman came to the door. Hawk spoke in Spanish, and she bustled forward, grabbing Gema by the hand and pulling her to the porch, up the steps, and into the house.
“Red, she okay, really okay?” Hawk’s concern was obvious.
“Yeah, a couple of women with the outlaws helped her escape. From what she told me, one decided she wasn’t going to allow Gema to be raped and kept, so she got them drunk. Then, she and another woman took her away from the camp a ways and told her to run. She did. Even ran from me. Gema was in a total panic when I found her.”
“You can give me the details when you get back. They’re mighty worried in town. The blizzard kept the search parties in town. As soon as you get some grub in you, head to Stones Creek.” Hawk eyed Red in a way that made him squirm. “You know what you gotta do, don’t you?”
“Yeah. We haven’t mentioned it, but I’m pretty sure she knows. I’ll talk with the men while I’m in town. Don’t think there’ll be any problems. They let me court Laura. Even though that didn’t work out, I doubt they’ll object with Gema. Besides, there’s no way for it not to happen.” Even then, Red didn’t say the word. Hawk didn’t either.
CHAPTER THREE
Chloe McIlroy heard the sound of hoof steps trotting up the street and glanced out the café window. The plates in her hand thudded to the tabletop. “Gema,” she whispered, then she yelled, “Blanche. It’s Gema, she’s back.”
Without stopping to take off her apron, Chloe ran out, letting the door slam against the wall as she threw it open. She ran along the boardwalk, past the storefronts of the businesses that shared the long building with the café and bakery. Mindless of the commotion her footsteps were causing, Chloe had one thought in mind. Get to Gema and see whether she was all right.
She’d been sick with worry for the past four days. First, when Gema went missing. Dread fought with worry when it was learned Mrs. Traci Fugard had seen a woman being carried across a saddle as the man riding whipped the horse into a faster gallop, leaving town. She hadn’t sounded any alarm. Mrs. Fugard didn’t approve of the Ladies of Sanctuary House. This woman was getting what she deserved for the loose life she’d led.
Chloe had slapped the bigoted woman across the face when she heard. Sheriff Newt Riverby had brought her to the House so the Ladies there could hear the words from her own lips. All the House Ladies in town, both the married ones and those w
ho still lived there, were gathered seeking support from each other.
“You, no I won’t say the word for what I think you are, Mrs. Fugard. You think you are better than we are because of your lily white past, and that many of ours aren’t such. Well, let me tell you. Gema has a past just as clean as yours. She’s simply an orphan whose family died, leaving a sixteen-year-old who couldn’t speak a word of English. Sanctuary Place took her in. We loved her and helped her learn, not only a new language but a new alphabet, so she could learn to read. You didn’t know Russians use a different set of letters and numbers, did you?
“We’ve all held her while she wept for her family?” Chloe waved a hand toward the other Ladies in the room. “We’ve helped her through the homesickness for anything remotely familiar to a young woman so far from all she knew. We’ve laughed with her when she messed up words. Helped her learn a totally new way to worship.
“Even if her past was like several of ours, no woman—” Chloe was shaking in her rage. “No woman, deserves to be kidnapped and raped. Don’t gasp, Mrs. Fugard at my use of the word. It happens. No woman deserves that.”
Chloe had burst into tears. Her husband McIlroy, who had come with the sheriff, gathered her in his arms and guided her out of the room.
Reaching the end of the boardwalk, Chloe nearly tripped down the steps in her rush to get to Gema. The horse carrying her as she sat in front of a cowboy was stopping by the sheriff’s office.
“Gema,” Chloe yelled. “Gema.” She ran as fast as she could up the muddy street. She needed to get to the young woman. Needed to know she was all right.
The man dismounted and lifted the young woman from his saddle. Who he was finally registered with Chloe. It was Red Dickerson. Gema ran to Chloe who embraced her.
“Are you all right? Did they?” Chloe couldn’t say the words. She knew well what that gang of outlaws was capable of. The same thing had happened to her at a much younger age. She’d been held by them for thirteen years, being abandoned just before she went into labor. Nugget Nate and Penny Ryder, guided by one of his Callings, had rescued her and her eight-year-old son, Duncan.
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