He lay the emergency blanket down and bundled Ryder within it. From a stack of piled wood he began a fire within a circle of lain rocks. The interior lit as the flames grew, offering Simetra a view of the area.
“You've been in here before.” It wasn't a question.
Simetra looked around the dry cave. She could stand in it; in fact Hudson could stand in it with room to spare. There was a huge stack of wood at the back. There was a small, handmade, crudely crafted table, made out of a rounded piece of log and four sturdy, thick legs to hold it. There was also a large log that had been brought in to serve as a bench. Simetra looked at him questioningly.
“Why don't you stay in here when you camp?” she asked.
“I only use it when the weather is exceedingly inclement. The trek up the hill is a royal pain in the...uh...well you just did it, you know.”
She did know. Her sides still ached and her breath was still tinged with a noticeable gasp. Simetra suddenly jumped in terror and found herself in Hudson's arms when a large boom thundered down from the heavens. She thought she felt it rattle her teeth. Her hands grasped his wet shirt. She could have sworn the ground shook, but realized sheepishly it was her own body that was shaking. He looked down at her and smiled kindly when she remained plastered to his side and had no intentions of releasing him, especially when the sky roared in anger yet again.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch cold,” he said huskily, though his powerful arms remained clasped around her slim hips.
“But where can I hang them?”
Hudson gave her a cheeky grin, he released her and then went to the far corner, where he grabbed two long poles with a tightly wound grass rope strung between them. He had it up in no time. He then moved a large makeshift door, built from long tied slim logs, to cover the entrance of the cave. The inside began warming almost immediately as the wind and rain was denied access.
Simetra strung her jacket over the line, she cast a quick, unobtrusive glance in Hudson's direction, feeling self-conscious, and after giving a shrug, she removed her shirt and wrung it out. Hudson had been nothing but honorable and decent to her. She was unafraid he would suddenly turn predatory if she revealed her flesh.
When she looked over her shoulder at him she blushed to her toes, noting he had removed everything but his white, damp, almost see-through boxers. She couldn't help but stare, mouth agape in awe. The long length of his glorious manhood was visible. He was beyond magnificent. His body was powerfully muscled, like a body builder or a heavy weight boxer. His jet-black wet hair gleamed and hung down his neck almost to his shoulders. Beautiful, he was beautiful and breathtaking. Hudson turned and she realized he had been watching her while she watched him. Her blush deepened.
He cleared his throat and then claimed, “You should dry your bra off too. I can see it dripping down the front of you. After all, when Ryder needs to nurse you don't want to be wet there, or hold her close to a cold chest; she might get chilled, or be uncomfortable.”
She knew he had a point. It was harder for the baby to nurse when her breasts weren't warm and welcoming. But, to be almost completely nude with a man. She hadn't undressed in front of anyone but Max, and it had been embarrassing enough to be clad only in undergarments before him.
“I would never harm you,” Hudson said. His look was kind.
She already knew that. Her hand rose shakily to unclasp her bra. When it sprung free she slipped it off after turning away from him. She laid it over the line, fiddling with it for as long as possible without being obvious. Her arms finally clasped around herself, she turned to face him. She determined to keep her dignity and her distance. Her thought was short lived, however, when another booming crash sounded and she once more ended up in Hudson's embrace, shivering in petrified fear. Her head buried against his chest; his generous multitude of dark hairs tickling her cheek, softening the rock hardness of his muscles.
Curiously Simetra tilted her head to the side when she heard a plink, then another and again another. Outside the cave suddenly sounded as though Mother Nature were dumping a bucket full of marbles. Her eyes widened in shocked surprise when a piece of hail the size of a golf ball rolled into the cave. Soon the entire cave flooded with the noise of the downfall. The sounds of the high winds reached their ears as the unmistakable crash of falling trees shattered the woods above and beneath them.
“Is it a tornado?” Simetra whimpered. Her grip tightened.
“It's a super cell thunderstorm. It could turn into a tornado. Let's just hope it doesn't.”
“Are we safe in here?”
“Safe enough,” he replied, but she sensed he was being evasive for her benefit.
All sense of propriety vanishing, Simetra went to pick up Ryder, who remained asleep. She pulled Hudson down to sit beside them. He wrapped his arms around them both. Simetra hardly noticed his one hand resting on her hip, or his arm pressing against her bare breasts. She shivered and cuddled into him, squeezing her eyes closed in her fear. His chin lay on the top of her head. Each time she winced he settled himself closer, offering comforting reassurances.
Outside, beyond the cave door, it grew menacingly darker. An ominous, eerie wind blew, sounding for all the world as though it were a sinister being. Ryder finally stirred within her arms. The baby's face screwed into a startled look when another bolt of lightning crashed. Simetra offered the babe her breast.
Hudson moved behind her to lean her against his chest, where she nestled comfortably. He wrapped all three within the blanket while they sat near the brightly burning flames. Then in a low, soothing voice, Hudson began to sing. Very gently he rocked them until sounds of the super storm were replaced with his melodic tune.
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* * *
Chapter Five
Hudson watched as Simetra stirred in her sleep. She had clung to him throughout the long night. The storm had been brutal. The residual rain was tapering off, but he wondered if it would begin again. During the early morning he kept a close eye on the woman and baby as they slumbered together. He had been unable to sleep, fearful of a rockslide, although he knew it couldn't be helped. There was no way he could have kept them safe within the lean-to.
Even though he was used to overwhelming responsibility in his line of work, he found himself distressed to be directly responsible for the life of both woman and child and the magnitude of emotions he felt for them. He was growing fond of them, too fond. A big no-no in his line of work. He still was unsure about Simetra's story and the holes within the few lies, or perhaps the few omissions would be a better word, he sensed. He knew she trusted him, yet her evasiveness caused him a deep frustration.
Ryder had crawled from her mother upon waking and seeing him. Her almost toothless grin was impossible not to love. She climbed, with his assistance, into his arms to snuggle against the warm clothing he had donned earlier. He ran a gentle hand over the babe's soft head, and then hugged her.
She reached for the wooden object he held. He chuckled at her eagerness and persistence. He brought the flute he had carved up to his lips and blew softly. The noise startled the child and she stopped grasping for it to stare at him. He blew on it again, then smiled down at her. Ryder flashed him the most beautiful smile of delight. He couldn't help his spontaneous cuddle. This time when she reached for the flute he let her have it. To his great surprise she was able to puff into the instrument to create her own sound.
“Boy, are you ever going to be sorry,” Simetra said dryly.
She rose, clutching the blanket around her almost nude form, and then with her back to him, she dressed. He watched her struggle to maintain her tenacious grasp on the blanket while trying to do up her bra and was given a view of her creamy thigh and half of her sweetly rounded bottom.
He chuckled at her sudden shyness. After all she had lain next to him all night practically nude. He had woken to find his one hand fondling her warm, firm, bare breast. He hoped she had been unaware
of his sleep roaming hand. He had, with disappointment, quelled his overwhelming curiosity to taste her swollen, milk-filled nipple. As he began to harden uncomfortably, he had realized it was time to remove himself from the situation.
Watching her beautiful form as the blanket slipped lower on her hips he felt himself begin to stir once more. She turned for an instant to her left as her hands went up to don her shirt. The bra she wore was pink lace and did nothing to conceal her generous swell of the one delicious looking breast he was privy to. She had given up on the blanket and propriety and it pooled on the ground beside her jeans, giving him a revealing look at her skimpy panties. The curve of her rounded buttock caused him to break out in a cold sweat.
He plopped Ryder down away from the fire with her new toy and excused himself as she slipped one leg into her pants, then the other, trailing them in a somewhat seductive fashion up over her delectably rounded hips. He knew she had no idea of the effect she was having on him. He declared it was time he found them some fish and she was to stay put. He motioned towards the dry meat as he practically raced out the makeshift door, while adjusting his jeans into a more accommodating position as he hardened uncomfortably.
Slipping and sliding, he made his way down the wet, steep hill. He was at once grateful he needed his entire focus on this new task, lest he fall and injure himself. A light rain drizzled over his jacket. With relief he made it safely to the bottom of the hill. He rubbed his hands together momentarily. He grew cold very quickly. It had been warm inside the cave. He was happy Simetra and Ryder were safe and snug.
A quick glance showed him the devastation the storm had wrought. When he reached the lake he became aware of a slumped beaver near the shoreline. On further inspection he discovered the animal was still alive, but barely. Hudson said an apology to the bewildered creature, and then smashed it over the head, putting the fallen animal out of its misery. With his knife he quickly went to work skinning it.
He took a large portion of the meat and its tail, which would be especially tasty, and felt it would suffice for now. The clouds were once more rolling together ominously. He raised his head and gave a quick thank you to whatever seemed to be aiding him. He never had experienced so much luck at finding food as he had this trip. Reflecting back, he remembered one trip he went without any sustenance except roots for three entire days. Although hungry, it had still been an enjoyable trip, though he admitted this was the best excursion so far.
Hudson grinned, remembering Simetra regaling him as her hunting hero. He had also received her deep admiration and praise for offering over his flannel shirt to make Ryder diapers. He was happy he'd dressed in many layers for this trip. He had used his knife to cut the fabric into five neat pieces of cloth, and then used the sleeves as extra padding for her little behind and washcloths. He had grimaced with distaste, his nose scrunching, after her first full package was delivered and changed. He hadn't realized how bad a diaper could smell.
As Hudson neared the bottom of the hill to begin his climb he heard a terrible rumbling from above. His heart skipped a beat. His head rose in trepidation. His dread fell like a brick into the pit of his stomach. The worst was about to happen. He could hear Ryder's sudden screams above the noise of impending doom. The rocks and sticks started first, followed by boulders and timber. He bellowed out a warning. Simetra was standing at the opening of the cave door, holding the baby. Her face was a mask of horror. A large log barely missed their heads as it tumbled downward.
Hudson had only a split second to decide what to do. If they were buried within the cave they could possibly run out of air before he could dig them out. If he were to flee now he would save his own life, but at what cost? They would undoubtedly perish. Even before the thoughts tumbled out he dropped the meat he had been holding and was running haphazard up the steep incline to reach them.
The rain mixed with sweat on his forehead. His fingers dug desperately for a handhold within the muck and foliage debris, propelling him higher. He could see little Ryder reaching for him. He felt his chest tighten as the images of both mother and child being crushed to death before him stormed his thoughts. He had never felt so much adrenaline pump through his veins. He had to save them or die trying—there was no other option.
Hudson leapt over a rolling log on all fours like an agile canine. He dodged a massive boulder as the ledge above them seemed to collapse. Simetra was screaming to him. He didn't waste a moment's breath to give instructions, as he knew she was frozen in terror. When he reached them he yanked the baby into his arms and grabbed Simetra around the waist.
He knew the hard part was just beginning. A rock thumped into his back and he groaned. The action spurred him to move quicker, as though he had been shoved into a direction by a hard hand. Sideways they practically tumbled down the hill. A small stick whacked him on the head, causing him to drop them all down into a crouch. A massive boulder rolled off the edge directly above them, sending the flying rubble over their heads and onto the ground bellow. A narrow miss.
Hudson was up and running once again. His arm was locked around Simetra's waist. He had Ryder in a football hold. They went only a few feet before a large piece of wood tripped him and again, down they went as the entire hill seemed to collapse around them. They slid downwards, tumbling head over heels, narrowly missing nature's vicious assault.
With the utmost reluctance, Hudson released his hold on Simetra; he had no choice. His entire body wrapped itself around the baby; his body cushioned her into the cocoon of his safety. He heard Simetra scream; a large splash followed. Within moments the ground disappeared out from under him. He kept himself in his position willfully, as the need to flail was instinct.
He plunged, back first, into the lake. The icy water was a shock, as it always was. Immediately he was swimming with a vigorous one-armed stroke for the surface. He gasped in a huge lungful of air as he emerged. He lifted the baby high out of the water with her body draped over his forearm. Her eyes were wide with a shocked expression that soon turned into a howl of outrage.
He swam hurriedly to the shore. A few small rocks still fell over the side of the cliff. He looked with worry for Simetra while disengaging Ryder's tight grasp from his hair. Simetra was nowhere to be seen. He bellowed out her name, causing Ryder to jump and quiet.
“Ma, ma,” he heard Ryder whimper.
Hudson looked to where Ryder was gazing across the water. He saw Simetra then. Floating face down, arms spread. Her hair haloed her head like seaweed. Hudson placed the baby down amidst two fallen logs. He didn't want her trying to crawl after him. He then raced back into the water. He had Simetra in his arms in moments. With powerful strokes he made it to shore. He placed her flat on her back.
Then, after pinching her nose and tilting her head back, he created a seal around her mouth with his own, and then blew a deep breath into her lungs. He did this again. Her cheeks puffed out with his expelled breath. He tilted his head to the side, watching her chest rise and fall with his effort, his ear at her mouth, listening for an expelled breath. He checked for a pulse at her throat; it was faint, but it was present.
“Simetra!”
Again he blew into her mouth, then again. Finally she stirred. He flipped her over as water poured from her mouth. She gasped and choked in much needed air. He had done it, he had saved her life. She was alive and breathing on her own. He crushed her to his chest. Only then did he feel the hammering of his heartbeat.
Simetra began shivering. Her eyes wide, she whispered in a gasping voice as to the whereabouts of her baby. Hudson assured her she was safe. But for how long? The rain had once again picked up. The high winds blew icy, whipping air. They were exposed out in the open. They were all sodden. Hypothermia would settle in soon.
Hudson looked over to where he had placed Ryder and panicked. Oh my God! She was gone! Releasing Simetra, he rose and scanned the area. The rain was coming down harder; it dripped endlessly into his eyes. With the dense foliage abounding around him he realized s
he could be two feet away and he would never see her.
“Oh God, no,” he whispered in a fearful voice.
“Ryder?” Simetra suddenly screamed. He guessed she had realized who he was searching for.
Hudson knelt down beside her. “We'll find her.” But Simetra was scrambling up in her terror.
She broke free of him and, still screaming for her child, she set off in a random direction, stumbling. Hudson added his calls to hers. They pushed at brush, ducked low, rose high on tip toes. They frantically tried searching every direction at once. Hudson grew frenzied with worry. Each time Simetra called out in her pained, hysterical voice, he could feel her agony. The baby wouldn't last long. If the weather didn't kill her an animal would make off with her. His heart wrenched inside his guts with the thought. I have to find her, screamed throughout his brain. I have to!
“Wait!” he yelled and held perfectly still. A faint noise had caught his attention.
“We have to find her,” Simetra said wildly, her hands gripped onto his wet jacket, her agonized face gazed up at him.
“Listen.”
Hudson cocked his head. A tiny sound filled his ears. Over the roar of the returning storm he heard a soft whistle. It was miraculous he had heard it at all over the loud clap of thunder. Lightning struck; it sizzled through the sky like an illuminant snake. Again, he heard the slightest tinkle of the sound.
Hudson bolted in that direction. He dove over a massive, decayed log, jumped a large, moss-covered rock, crashed through tangled brush, parted the sodden vegetation, and there she was, dripping wet, her hair plastered to her tiny head, covered in dirt from head to toe.
She was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.
Clutched in her filthy hand, Ryder was holding the flute Hudson had made. Somehow she had maintained her grasp of the small toy. She was waving the toy in delight. Each time she brought it high over her head the wind whipped through it making a sound.
Ryder Policy Page 4