by Phoebe Conn
Alanna surveyed the open clearing with an anxious glance. Had Blind Snake opened fire on them from the adjacent woods, they would not have had a chance. "Do you have more enemies who might be stalking us?"
"Only death," Hunter revealed.
"You don't mean a person, just the possibility?" When Hunter nodded, Alanna again removed the compress from his forehead, dipped it into the pail, squeezed it out, and laid it over his brow. "I have much better things to do than bury you," she scoffed. "There's your son to raise for one. We've not had any time to talk about him."
"Christian?"
"That's right." Alanna replaced the compress on his chest, before she continued, "He's a splendid little boy, Hunter. He looks so much like you. I know you'd be proud of him."
Hunter tried to picture the infant in his mind, but all he saw was the fierceness of Melissa's expression, when she had threatened an accusation of rape should he ever reveal they had been lovers. He didn't want that spiteful bitch's child. Surely Christian would scorn him as readily as his mother had. "I have no son," he denied.
Discouraged by the blackness of his mood, Alanna went down to the lake to refill the pail, and tarried at the water's edge. Even with the awful specter of death on his mind, Hunter's heart was closed to Christian, and she saw that as a terrible tragedy, even if he didn't. Bitterly discouraged that her trip to New York continued to have tragic consequences, she reluctantly returned to her patient's side. He was sleeping again, and she liked him ever so much better that way.
She replaced the cool compresses on his chest and legs, before sitting back to study his color. She thought he looked less flushed, but feared it might only be wishful thinking rather than fact. She rested her hand lightly on his right knee, and decided there was no difference in his temperature. He was still much too warm. Perplexed by her inability to help him, she realized that lying directly in the sun couldn't be doing him any good. Inspired to remedy that sorry situation, she cut two long slender branches to serve as poles, then dampened her shawl, and strung it between them to form an awning.
Armed with a leafy branch from a sugar maple, she sat fanning him with lazy strokes, attempting to keep him cooled by the breeze wafting over the wet awning. Her arm soon ached with the effort, but unable to devise another way to lower his temperature, she changed hands often and tried only to think of how much she wanted him to live. He was such a handsome man, that sitting with him wasn't in the least bit disagreeable, but she wished his conversation had been more optimistic when he had last been awake. She chewed another strip of venison jerky, and vowed not to let him speak again of death. She had had far too much of the pain of loss, and craved the joy of love and life instead.
* * *
Throughout the rest of that day and well into the next, Hunter's dreams were filled with tortured images that kept him moaning softly. He was running through a dark, overgrown forest infested with evil demons. The hideous creatures leapt out at him, taunting him with vile insults uttered in strident cackles and hoarse shrieks. Their fangs dripped venom, and his buckskins were ripped to shreds by their long, pointed claws. Each time he escaped their grasp, but he had lost his knife and bow, and without a way to fight them, sought only to hide, but they were everywhere. He had to keep on running harder and harder, until he feared his heart would burst from the strain.
Looking back over his shoulder, he missed seeing the cliff until it was too late to catch himself, and he plummeted over the edge. He flung out his arms, hoping to soar like an eagle but he succeeded only in spinning head over heels, until his fall was finally broken by the icy waters of a bottomless lake. He splashed about and, finally free of the demons, awoke just as Alanna threw another pail of water on him. He sputtered and spit, then sat up and tried to wrench the bucket from her hands.
"Are you trying to drown me?"
Alanna released her hold on the bucket and sank to her knees.
"I'm sorry, but you've been delirious for more than a day, and I couldn't think of any other way to bring you out of it."
Hunter found it difficult to believe the ugly demon dreams had lasted so long. "When did you kill Blind Snake?"
"Three days ago."
Her shawl still shaded him, preventing him from seeing the angle of the sun, but he could tell by the obvious changes in her that he had indeed lost a day. Her dress was splattered with water, but seemed to hang on a figure that was rapidly becoming gaunt. There were shadows beneath her eyes, and her hair, rather than falling in attractive ringlets, was in wild disarray.
"You must rest," Hunter coaxed. "Come lie down with me."
"No, I'll bring you a drink first." Alanna struggled to rise and, weaving unsteadily, went to fetch more water. When she returned, she placed the bucket and cup within his reach, and then stretched out beside him. "I think you'll be all right now," she whispered softly, and before his hand caressed her cheek, she had given into the fatigue she had fought for so many hours.
After having slept for an equal amount of time, Hunter still felt drained, but wide-awake. He wiggled his toes, flexed his muscles, and while his leg did still ache, he attempted to convince himself that he would be strong enough to get up later. Recalling his frightful nightmares in the light of day, he wondered if death hadn't come for him again. If so, Alanna had saved him a second time, and he was extremely glad that she had. While he still felt weak, his fever had broken, and he was cheered by that small step toward recovery.
His thoughts remained focused on the exhausted young woman at his side, and he wondered if they might not have been the ones to fall in love last spring, had she not been so terrified of Indians. He tried not to dwell on how foolish his infatuation with Melissa had been, but he didn't want to fall in love with another white woman, who might soon spurn him. Even knowing that Alanna was a completely different person and undeserving of the awful doubts Melissa's memory inspired, he could not silence them.
Perhaps by the time he recovered, he would be a better judge of her feelings, as well as his own. He ought not to get well too swiftly, he vowed with a sly grin, for he wanted to savor awake the delicious attentions Alanna had obviously lavished on him, while he'd been unconscious. She would need her rest for that, however, and again winding one of her glossy curls around his finger, he began to plan how to become a much better patient. Once he had succeeded, he hoped it would not be long before they became lovers, but he would not repeat his mistakes. He would not risk his heart until he was certain Alanna's devotion would last forever.
* * *
"Would you really have married Elliott?"
They were eating a supper of trout and berries. Neither had spoken in several minutes, and Alanna recoiled slightly at the impertinence of his question. Her throat tightened painfully, and she looked away.
"Please, that's not something you should ask."
Her averted glance revealed a great deal. "It's something you should have already asked yourself."
While she had indeed pondered the question, she had not reached an answer before Elliott was killed, and it seemed disloyal to him to now discuss the matter with Hunter. Her appetite gone, Alanna rose and walked down to the river to rinse her hands. She did not return to her companion's side until her mood was again composed.
"I don't mean to be rude in leaving you, but if you'd like more berries, I'll have to pick them before it gets dark. I didn't realize you'd be so hungry."
Hunter knew she couldn't run away from herself no matter how far She went. "No, I've had enough. Stay with me."
Reluctantly, Alanna resumed her place beside their makeshift bed. Fearing he would continue asking her painful questions, she hastened to speak before he did. "I'm not comfortable here. I know you won't feel up to walking any great distance for a while, but when you can walk, if we could just move a dozen yards away, I'd be content."
Hunter readily understood her complaint about their present location. The three slain Abenaki braves were out of sight, but he was no more comfortable tha
n she being so close to their grave. "We'll move tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow? Won't that be too difficult for you?"
Hunter had gotten up briefly to see to his body's needs, and was confident he'd not faint crossing a dozen yards. He would be no example of either speed or grace, but he could make it. "In the afternoon then."
He was teasing her again and Alanna smiled easily. Then she reached up to brush a stray curl off her forehead, and realized her hair was badly tangled. "Oh, no, I must look like—"
When she was unable to name a suitably unkempt example, Hunter supplied it. "Like a woman who's been sleeping in the woods?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I wish I had a brush, or at least a comb."
"You look very beautiful, like a wood sprite. Is that the word?"
Flattered, Alanna nodded shyly. "Where did you hear about wood sprites?"
"They were in a book I read once."
"You like to read?"
She sounded merely curious rather than incredulous, so he chose not to take offense. "Yes, very much. Living in the forest can be lonely."
"I've asked about white settlements, but how far are we from your people?"
"Do you want to meet them?"
Alanna licked her lips slowly. "I feel safe with you, but I can't promise that an Indian village wouldn't be overwhelming. I'd not want to embarrass you."
She looked truly pained by the possibility. "How could you embarrass me?"
"By being afraid. Wouldn't that insult everyone?"
Hunter shrugged slightly. "Why shouldn't you be afraid of a pack of savages?"
"I didn't say that."
"No, but it's what you meant."
"No, it wasn't. Please don't twist my words that way."
Hunter had not meant to deliberately antagonize her, but the remark about savages had slipped out before he could censor it. "Our villages are peaceful, happy places," he finally said. "People would be curious about you. They might stare, but they wouldn't be cruel."
"You didn't answer my original question. If your village is close, I could go there and get help for you."
Hunter laughed at her offer. "If you don't think you can find Johnson's trading post, you'd never be able to find my village. If by chance you did wander into it, by the time you got back, I'd already have recovered and gone on my way. No, stay here. You'll be of no use to me, if you get lost in the woods."
Alanna couldn't argue with that, but she wished he had at least appreciated her willingness to try and bring help. Still tired, she covered a wide yawn. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can stay awake much longer."
"Come to bed then."
His invitation was uttered in a soft, husky tone that frightened Alanna far more than their discussion of his village had.
His chest was still bare, and clad only in his breechclout, his powerfully built body took on both an appealing and a threatening quality. Torn by the desire to reach out and caress his bronze skin, as she had while he'd been delirious, and the equally compelling urge to flee, she hurriedly rose and made a great show of cleaning up the remains of their supper.
She took the bucket down to the lake to fill it, but then left it on the sandy shore and went to look for a new place to camp, while there was still light enough to see the terrain clearly. Once out of sight, however, she just sat down and hugged her knees. She knew precisely what was happening to her: she was growing much too fond of Hunter. He kept her continually off balance emotionally, and although she did not think he was deliberately trying to confuse her, he most certainly did.
She took a deep breath to clear her mind, but rather than a moment of peaceful calm, she felt Melissa's presence so strongly, she turned, expecting to see her cousin approaching. There were moments when that happened, when for a few seconds she forgot that Melissa was gone, but such forgetfulness seemed inexcusable here. Now she couldn't help but wonder what had really happened between Melissa and Hunter. Had he tortured her cousin with alternate displays of affection and scorn, the way he did her?
She supposed she could ask Hunter that question, but would he tell her the truth, or merely a lie that flattered him and his cause? Certain that he would prefer a lie to revealing a damning truth, Alanna dismissed the thought of questioning him as foolish. She would simply have to trust her instincts where he was concerned, and pray she would not be led astray.
Alanna didn't return to their camp until after dark, and although she found Hunter already asleep, she couldn't bring herself to again lie down beside him. She took apart the flimsy awning and, moving several feet away from the handsome brave, spread out her shawl on the ground. After a little wiggling around, she found a comfortable pose and closed her eyes, but she couldn't overcome the anxiety memories of Melissa had brought. Hunter might be attractive and bright, but Alanna didn't intend to repeat her cousin's mistakes with him. Feeling lost and confused, she hoped Hunter would soon be well enough to guide her back to the trading post, so she could go home.
Hunter had not really been asleep, but merely dozing while he waited for Alanna to join him. When she chose not to, his first impulse was to get up and bring her back to his bed. He would have gone no farther, as weak as he was all he could hope to enjoy was her closeness, but that she had not willingly come to him stopped him from making an issue of where she chose to sleep. When he awakened the next morning, she was already up, and because he knew how badly she wished to leave, he struggled to get up, too.
"Scatter the pine branches," he suggested. "Cover the ashes, and no one will ever know we were here."
Because Alanna had successfully purged the area of any sign of the Abenaki braves' violent deaths, she objected to his advice as completely unnecessary. "I could scarcely dismantle the bed with you on it," she pointed out. "As for the ashes, I thought we might want to cook breakfast, before we left."
Hunter had noticed how difficult it seemed to be for Alanna to focus her gaze on his face when they talked, and had deliberately chosen not to don his shirt. He doubted that it was his appearance that had perplexed her, though. She sounded insulted by his advice, and he could not understand why.
"I'm used to doing everything on my own," he explained. "I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to help you."
He sounded contrite, but the sparkle in his dark eyes belied his words. He was hopping around with the assistance of the branch she had found for a cane, and he already looked plenty strong to her. "Aren't we only a day's journey from the trading post?" she asked.
"You're forgetting that you had traveled all morning before Elliott was killed. We ran the rest of that day, and into the night. We arrived here the next morning."
"So we're two days away then?"
"When people are running for their lives, they can travel much faster than when they are not threatened. It will take us longer to return to the trading post than it did to get here, but why are you in such a hurry? I can barely stand. I wish I could take you back to the trading post today, but it's impossible."
Alanna smiled nervously. "I don't know where I'll find the courage to tell my aunt and uncle about Elliott's death, but I can't avoid it by hiding in the forest indefinitely. I have to get home."
Her sudden concern for her aunt and uncle took Hunter by surprise, but he thought better of saying so aloud. "I'm not trying to keep you here. Had I not gotten hurt, we could have started back toward the trading post as soon as we'd buried the Abenaki. I know I'm a burden to you. Don't imagine that I enjoy it." He took a couple of hops toward the river; growing shaky, Hunter eased himself down to the ground. "Maybe we should have breakfast before we go."
Concerned, Alanna went to him. While he had looked fit only a few minutes earlier, he was now short of breath and pale. "It's too soon," she scolded. "You aren't going anywhere today."
Hunter leaned back on his hands. "It's already been decided. I'm going even if I have to crawl. Now hurry and catch us some fish. I'm hungry."
"I'm tired of fish."
"So am I, but you'll have
to be patient until I can hunt."
"When you're well enough to hunt, we can get back to the trading post."
"We'll have to eat on the way. For now, I'll teach you how to weave a mesh basket to catch fish. It's much easier than using a hook and line."
Even though he had not been awake an hour, he looked tired, and Alanna hated to tax what little strength he had. "I'm having no trouble catching fish. You just sit here and watch."
Hunter tried not to smile too widely. "Good luck."
Alanna had discovered several places to dig worms and, once she had her hook baited, she carried Hunter's line out onto the rocks. The water was teeming with trout, and she swiftly got a bite. It took her less than half an hour to catch plenty of fish for their breakfast, and then she busied herself building a fire.
Hunter felt up to making the rack to broil her catch, then leaned back on his elbows while she saw to the cooking. Disheveled, she looked very much like the distracted waif she had been when they met. She had almost danced with excitement each time she caught a fish, and now kept circling the fire as she kept a close eye on the roasting trout. When she glanced toward him, her smile held a childlike delight he found captivating.
"I know you're anxious to go back to Williamsburg, but you look at home here in the forest."
"Really? I'd like to think it's a peaceful place, even if we haven't found it that way."
Fearing she was going to again char the trout, Hunter dragged himself to his feet and hopped over to the fire. "If you want to pick some berries, I'll watch the fish." When Alanna gave him a skeptical glance, he pointed toward the woods. "Go, watching the fire won't exhaust me." It took him a moment to convince her he was feeling better, and then she hurried off to fetch the berries. Hunter flipped the rack containing the fish, watched until they had turned a delicate golden brown, and promptly removed them from the fire.
Satisfied he had cooked their breakfast to perfection, he made no boasts about his talents when Alanna returned. She had again carried the berries in her skirt, and when she released the hem, they spilled out all around him. He gathered them up and dropped them into their bucket to rinse. "This looks very good," he enthused.