by Phoebe Conn
Alanna was more than willing to provide branches to form a cushion between him and the ground, but to share such a bed was completely out of the question. He was in no condition to force either his cynical opinions or his handsome self on her, so she let any further discussion of their sleeping arrangements slide for the moment, and went to fetch the pine boughs. She had to make several trips, but in less than half an hour, she had a fair-sized heap of tender young branches stacked beside Hunter.
The problem then became one of finding a way to shift him over onto them. Just talking exhausted Hunter, and she did not want moving him to prove to be another test of her strength and his ability to withstand pain. There didn't seem to be any way to accomplish the task without hurting him, until she had a sudden inspiration. "Can you roll over toward your left side long enough for me to shove the boughs into place?"
"I can try."
He did try, and seeing how much the effort cost him, Alanna quickly slid the boughs into place, taking care to position the needles so they extended toward the ground rather than upward like a live pincushion. "Good, now can you roll back this way, while I prepare the other side?"
Hunter couldn't stand to move his injured leg, so he was much less successful this time, but Alanna hurriedly placed the pine branches beneath him. When she stood back to assess their progress, she was almost pleased. She had managed to create a thick rectangular mattress of branches, and Hunter was stretched across it diagonally. They had failed to provide enough support for his injured leg, and she thought it ought to be propped up slightly, rather than lower than the rest of his body.
"Will it hurt you too badly, if I shift your leg up onto the branches?"
Already resting far more comfortably, Hunter tried to smile. "Just do it."
Cradling his knee in one hand and ankle in the other, Alanna lifted his leg and slid it onto the pine-scented bed. Hunter didn't cry out, but she felt a wave of pain roll through him.
"I'm sorry. I wish there were more that I could do. I don't think I can find my way back to the trading post for help. Is there another settlement near here?"
Hunter managed to shake his head, but, swimming in dizziness, he passed out again. Alanna reached out to smooth his hair off his forehead, unconsciously petting him as though he were a sleeping child. She had only just begun to fish when he had awakened, and, committed to providing something for him to eat when he felt up to it, she returned to the water's edge, where she had left his line. As a child, she had fished off the dock with her cousins, and thoughts of them brought a painful tightness in her chest she had no time to assuage with tears. If she and Hunter were to survive, it was up to her.
She baited her hook with a worm and tossed it out into Lake Sacandaga with a determination born of desperation.
* * *
It was the savory aroma of Alanna's roasting catch that coaxed Hunter awake. He knew she must be rightly proud that she had not only caught half a dozen trout and built a fire to cook them, but her achievements made him feel like a helpless fool. He tried not to sulk, or at least to hide that he was.
"You're not only strong, but smart," he greeted her.
"I was hoping you'd be awake soon. I've carved a wooden cup. It isn't pretty, but it does hold water." She carried it down to the lake and returned with a drink for him.
Hunter was somewhat cheered by the crude nature of her handiwork, but he was too thirsty to tease her about it. "Thank you," he remembered to say this time.
"Do you want more?"
"Maybe later."
Alanna didn't know how to phrase her next question delicately, but tried her best not to embarrass him. "If only we had a chamber pot, you could use it. Since we don't, can I help you in some way?"
Rather than being appalled by the sensitive nature of her inquiry, Hunter was merely amused. He laughed, and then, seeing how stricken she looked, tried to behave more like a gentleman. "Find me a sturdy stick to use as a cane, and I can get up to take care of myself. Not that your offer isn't appealing, it is, but I don't feel up to returning any favors as yet."
Alanna had not been offering as intimate a service as Hunter clearly thought she had, and her face filled with a bright blush as she turned back toward the fire. He was as adept at flirting as Melissa had been, but coming from a man, she saw his teasing as a blatant request for more than she wished to give.
Recalling the kiss he had placed in her palm, she rubbed her hand lightly to rid herself of any lingering trace of his touch.
She had watched him construct a sturdy wooden rack to roast their breakfast over coals, and had done her best to create a similar structure out of good-sized sticks. Like the cup, it wasn't much to look at, but while it had grown charred, it hadn't caught fire before the fish were done, and she thought that was all that mattered. Again a handful of broad leaves served as a plate.
"I hope this is done. If it isn't, just say so."
Hunter looked at the crispy tail and fins of the roasted trout and thought it was probably overcooked rather than underdone, but he dared not criticize her cooking, when he wasn't strong enough to handle that chore himself. "This is fine," he assured her without taking a bite. "I was tired of my own cooking."
He used his knife to fillet the fish and, while the meat wasn't as tender and flaky as he had served that morning, it was still good. "I think I am lucky to be stranded here with you."
Alanna waited for him to add another thought, but he remained silent as he ate the rest of his dinner. They each had three trout, and Alanna feared she had eaten too much, while he hadn't had nearly enough. "I'm sorry, I should have given you another trout."
"Why? You're the one who's done most of the work today. It seems you've become my slave after all."
"I certainly don't feel enslaved," Alanna argued.
"Good, then you'll have no trouble being obedient."
"That isn't funny, Hunter. Our situation could scarcely be worse. What if Blind Snake and those men weren't the only Abenaki traveling this way? What if we wake to find three more, or six more, or God knows how many others storming through our camp tomorrow morning?"
"I think you better stay up tonight to make us a canoe, so we can escape them on the lake."
In no mood to appreciate teasing, Alanna lost all patience with him. "Elliott's dead, and you can't find anything better to do than make jokes?" She got to her feet and, although the light was now fading, she sent a searching glance around the camp. "I'll go find you a stick to use for a cane, but I'm warning you now, if you keep laughing at me, I may use it to beat some manners into you."
Her curls bounced across her shoulders as she stomped off, and Hunter could not hold in his laughter. She was right. Things were bad for them, but he liked her so much, he wasn't truly worried. It wasn't until she returned and handed him a sturdy branch, that he realized he was going to have to follow through on his promise and force himself to stand.
He had eaten dinner leaning on his elbow, but now sat up slowly and braced himself on his hands. He was used to being agile, and finding himself pinned down by the knife wound in his thigh was not only physically painful, but emotionally draining as well. He had thought he could stand up long enough to relieve himself, but just getting upright posed a serious problem.
Because Hunter had ridiculed her last offer of help, Alanna stood silently waiting for him to politely request her assistance, should he need it. Thinking he probably outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, she hoped she wouldn't be too weak to make a difference. She wondered if he was getting cold without his leggings, but waited to ask that question.
Hunter felt Alanna hovering over him, and knowing she did not deserve to be the target of his ill humor, he swallowed the harsh demand that she leave him be. It wasn't until he finally had to accept the fact he could not get up on his own, that he looked up at her. "I need help," he admitted grudgingly.
Not one to gloat, Alanna moved to his right side. "If I put my arms around your waist, you can lean on me to
stand, and then use the cane. Shall we try it?"
Hunter nodded. Realizing clearly that it was going to hurt, he still cried out in pain, and Alanna quickly let him sink to the ground. "I can do it," he insisted.
"Of course, you can." Alanna waited until he had caught his breath. This time he managed to find the leverage with his right leg to push himself up. Afraid he might pass out again, Alanna kept her arms locked around his torso, until he seemed firmly balanced on one leg and the makeshift cane. Then she released him and took a step back.
"Can you make it?" she asked.
Hunter's head felt impossibly light, at the same time his body felt at least double its usual weight. When he swayed slightly, and came dangerously close to falling, Alanna again encircled his waist with her arms. "I'll help you walk over to the bushes. Is that where you want to go?"
To be dependent on a slender girl for a walk of no more than ten paces left Hunter feeling totally humiliated. He knew he would probably fall without her help, but he was loath to ask for it. It was only the very real possibility of bleeding to death should he hit the ground on his injured leg rather than his seat, that prompted him to nod.
"I grew up with Byron and Elliott," she reminded him. "They liked to swim in the nude, so how men are made is no mystery to me. I know you're embarrassed to have to ask for my help, but you needn't fear that I am."
Hunter was concentrating so hard on just reaching the bushes, he couldn't respond to her encouragement. He had a firm grip on her with his right hand, and an even tighter hold on the cane with his left, but the combined weakness of his limbs and dizziness of his mind made what should have been an easy few steps, close to impossible. Alanna kept guiding him gently, however, and once they had reached the shrubbery, made certain he was steady enough to take care of himself, before she stepped away and turned her back.
Hunter remained upright long enough to relieve himself, but then when he tried to reach out for Alanna again, he pitched forward into the bushes, and would have slid all the way through them to the ground, had she not been quick enough to yank him out of them before that tragedy occurred. His buckskin shirt had saved him from suffering any deep scratches, but his dignity was definitely tattered. He resorted to his native tongue to express his displeasure, but Alanna could easily tell he was swearing by his tone.
"Come on," she coaxed sweetly, "let's get you back to bed." She eased him around, and he hobbled back to the pine mattress without further mishap. Getting him back into a reclining position was almost as great an ordeal as helping him to stand, but she finally succeeded in returning him to bed. "We'll do better next time," she assured him.
"There won't be a next time," Hunter grumbled. "I'll be much better in the morning, and I'll take care of myself."
"Good. Would you like another cup of water? I wish I'd thought to look for berries, so we'd have some dessert. I'll find some tomorrow."
Missing dessert was a matter of absolutely no consequence to Hunter, and he motioned for her to lie down beside him. "You come to bed, too," he ordered in a lazy slur.
Alanna hadn't planned to sleep with him, but she had had no time to gather additional branches to make her own bed. With Hunter so weak, she easily convinced herself she ought to sleep next to him, just in case he awoke and needed her. "Are you cold? Do you want your leggings?" she asked.
The prospect of having to wiggle into them, when it would surely be a painful ordeal, convinced Hunter they were the last thing he needed. "No, come to bed."
Alanna spread out her shawl to soften the crude mattress. "I had thought yesterday was bad," she related absently. "I'm almost afraid to hope that our situation will improve tomorrow."
Hunter was too weak to reply, but when she stretched out beside him, he reached for her hand and gave it a fond squeeze. "You should have stayed at home," he mused darkly, but if she bothered to argue with him, he didn't hear it before he fell asleep.
Chapter 20
Alanna awakened each time Hunter stirred during the night, but he appeared to be only shifting position slightly, rather than in distress, and she quickly fell asleep again. She didn't realize he was in trouble until dawn, when he complained of feeling too warm and asked her to help him remove his shirt. The instant her fingertips brushed his skin, she drew back.
"It's no wonder you feel warm." She raised her hand to his forehead to confirm her suspicions. "You're feverish."
Hunter had fallen asleep believing he could not feel any worse, but he had been wrong. "I'll get over it," he boasted without conviction.
The Barclays had seldom been ill, and in those rare instances, they had relied on Doctor Earle or bought herbal remedies at an apothecary shop in Williamsburg, so Alanna had never gathered medicinal plants in the wild. Even if she had, she doubted the forests of New York would contain the same varieties that grew in Virginia. "Do you know which herbs to gather for a fever?" she asked.
"Among my people, medicine is women's work."
"Then it's unfortunate we don't have one of your women here with us." Alanna was deliberately parodying one of his complaints, but either he didn't notice, or didn't care. She reached for the fringed hem of his shirt, and helped him peel the garment off over his head. "Even if we can't brew any herbal teas, you should try and drink all the water you can. I'll get you some now."
Hunter watched her carry the cup she had fashioned down to the lake. She was still barefooted, and it suited her. She had to bring him three cups of water, before he had his fill. "You need to make a bigger cup," he teased weakly, "then you won't have to make so many trips."
"Rather than a larger cup, what I need is a bucket. I'll have to look for a piece of wood the right size to hollow out. Until then, we'll just have to make do with this one pitifully small cup."
"Light another fire. Use the coals to burn out the center of a block of wood. Then there will be less to carve."
"Do your women make wooden buckets?"
"No, but if you wait for me to do it, we'll no longer need it."
Alanna hoped he was referring to his recovery precluding the necessity of a bucket, rather than anything more dire. "Do you think you could eat some fish?"
The mere mention of food made Hunter's stomach lurch, and he shook his head. "I just want to sleep."
Anxious to relieve his pain, Alanna remained kneeling at his side. Believing the knife wound in his leg must have become infected, she blamed herself for not knowing how to take better care of him. He was strong and had been in obvious good health, before he had been hurt. If the infection did not worsen, then he had an excellent chance to survive, but, God forbid, if he developed blood poisoning, not even a highly skilled physician could save him.
"I'm going to get busy on the bucket," she announced. "Then I can bring plenty of water from the lake to keep you cool. I'll just rip more cloth from the bottom of my chemise to make compresses."
Hunter opened one eye. "No more lace."
Alanna rose and brushed the dust from her skirt. "If that's all you have to complain about, you're fortunate indeed."
Hunter reached out to catch her hem in a feeble grasp. "Thank you," he mumbled.
"For such an obstinate man, you have endearing ways." Alanna waited a moment, but when Hunter remained silent, she went to scour the surrounding woods for a log small enough to be made into a bucket. She found some raspberry vines first, and picked so many succulent berries, she had to carry them back to the clearing in her skirt. She hoped Hunter would feel up to eating some later, but for now, she left them piled within his reach and went back into the woods.
By the time she had found a suitable piece of wood and fashioned a bucket using Hunter's helpful tip, his temperature had risen. She used the crude wooden pail to carry water to continually remoisten the compresses she placed on his forehead, chest, and legs, but she feared she had not begun using them soon enough to be effective. She encouraged him to eat berries whenever he awoke, and he swallowed a few, but she knew it wasn't nearly enough nour
ishment to sustain a man of his size.
"Could you eat some of Blind Snake's jerky?" Having had no time to fish, she had sampled it herself and found its smoky flavor good. "I could cut it into tiny bites for you."
"No, I would still have to chew and then swallow."
His expression was blank, and his eyes were glazed by the fever, but Alanna nevertheless got the distinct impression that he was teasing her. She replaced the compress on his forehead and then let her fingertips graze his cheek. "You are going to get well, Hunter. You're much too stubborn not to."
Hunter was far more worried about her than he was about himself. She had used his line to fish, and had sparked a fire with the flint he carried. She still had boots, if she chose to wear them, and a woolen shawl to keep warm. She was a clever girl and would survive without him.
"If you must leave here alone—" he began.
Alanna protested instantly. "I'll not leave you."
Hunter stared at her, unable to comprehend how she had misunderstood his meaning. "If I die," he explained slowly, "go south. Follow the Mohawk to the trading post."
Alanna wanted to argue that his instructions were unnecessary, but she knew it would only tire him, and simply nodded. "I seem to bring bad luck everywhere I go," she said instead. "My family's gone, and two of my cousins. Don't you leave me, too, Indian."
Hunter reached out for her hand. While he could not be blamed for the slaughter of her family, he knew Melissa's and Elliott's deaths could more easily be blamed on his influence than hers. "I am the one who spreads death," he argued, "not you. Be careful."
"Of what? You?"
Lacking the energy for a lengthy debate, Hunter closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he again looked up at her, he knew precisely what to say. "Blind Snake was trying to kill me, not Elliott, and I was the one he came to kill yesterday. If death comes for me again, do not stand in the way."