Chapter Six
Jake lay on the floor of the cave beside the small fire they'd built. How often had he laid just so in this shelter, the fire in the center of the room, the smoke drawn up and out through the small opening? The wood that had been stored by the wall was not what he'd left the last time he'd been here. That worried him, because the last time he'd used this cave had been at least two years ago, before he had joined up with Watie, and Ray had been with him.
The wood was considerably fresher than what they'd left, and stacked differently. Someone else had frequented this cave; but whether friend or foe, he couldn't be sure.
Robin lay beside him, her head pillowed on his left arm. She wasn't asleep. He could feel the tension in her body, still.
It had taken every ounce of her will to do what he'd asked of her – to cut the arrow out of his flesh, then pull it free. He'd cried out, unable to stop himself. With anyone else, he might have felt ashamed that he'd been unable to hold himself in check. But not with Robin.
She'd done everything he asked, he thought grimly. Now, remembering the look of disbelief in her eyes as she'd opened the cartridge and poured the gunpowder into the gaping hole, he wondered if he'd pushed her too far. He should have done that himself. Although she dressed oddly, being from another time, anyone could see she was a lady, through and through.
He should've had better sense than to ask a well-born lady to dig out a bloody arrowhead and then cauterize the wound with black powder.
"Strike the match," he'd told her.
The look of understanding that had come into her soft brown eyes, followed by the pity, had nearly been his undoing. In the end, she'd lit the match with fumbling fingers, but she couldn't bring herself to put it next to the wound, to start the fire trail in his flesh that would stop the bleeding.
So, gently, he'd put his hand atop her blood-soaked fingers and guided the burning stick of wood to the wound, until it caught, and the intensity of the pain had brought him darkness. The last thing he'd seen was her eyes, holding his; her teeth caught in her lower lip; her delicate jaw set in determination.
When he'd come to, only a few minutes later, she'd been sitting with his head in her lap, bathing his neck and face with a ragged piece of her clothing she'd torn away and wet with snow from the crusted opening above them.
"Give me a few minutes," he said, looking up at her. "Keep the gun…handy." He'd drifted off again and slept, really slept. And now, looking up through the cave opening, he could see it had to be early afternoon, if he wasn't fooled by the hazy gray of the sky.
If their assailants had been Union troops, the shots that had been fired at him and Robin would have alerted Watie's camp…given them the advantage.
He needed to get back there. But how? He'd been wounded before. The blood loss had been heavy, and there was nothing to do now but rest and let his body try to compensate for a few hours.
Robin moved in even closer to him, her hair tickling his chin. He could grow to enjoy this companionship. Even to need it. He smiled at that thought. He'd never needed anyone in his life. By the time he was twelve, he'd been on his own. But, he had to admit, there were times his existence had been bitingly lonely…times he'd wished for someone to share it with. At twenty-six, he'd spent the last two years fighting with General Watie, leaving his own small homestead to join Watie when the War reached the Territory. What would he find when he returned to that little cabin he'd built? Maybe nothing.
A long-banished memory rose up in his mind. Another cabin. Another time. A long forgotten lifetime ago, when he'd been a child, had a family. He knew both sides of the coin – the contentment of being a part of a family, and the isolation of being dependent only upon himself, of answering to no one but his own conscience.
His fingers sifted through the warm silk of Robin's dark hair. He inhaled the spicy fragrance that was her own. She was intoxicating. Like good liquor. No – better, even, than that.
And she was leaving tomorrow.
She opened her eyes as if she heard his thought. "Jake?" She came up on her elbow and leaned over him, reaching to touch his forehead.
"No fever," he murmured.
"No. Thank goodness." She moved to sit up beside him. "I shouldn't have gone to sleep. They could've come in and captured us."
"It would have all been your fault."
She met his eyes, then smiled as she saw he was teasing. "I should have taken better care of you. Of us."
"You've done a lot of that – where you come from, I take it? Taking care of other people."
She nodded and smiled. "I guess so. I work as a secretary in a law firm."
"Ah. Lawyers. What does a secretary do?"
"I make coffee, do a lot of computer work, set up meetings, greet people…"
"Do you – miss that?"
She didn't hesitate in her response. "No."
"So…if you couldn't get back to your own time, you think maybe you could be happy in this one?"
She narrowed her eyes, a tease in her voice. "Do you know something I don't know?"
Oh, yeah. Yeah. I do. I'm in trouble, and not from this wound, lady.
He shook his head. "No. But, I guess it's a possibility, Robin."
The smile left her face. "I know. I've thought of that, too. I don't know what I'll do, in that case."
Jake reached up and pulled her down to him. She unfolded her legs and lay beside him again, her head pillowed on his chest. "Don't fash about it, Robbi. We'll figure out something. I won't let any harm come to you."
She lifted her head. "Jake – I—" she blinked and looked down. "I'm not your responsibility," she said quietly. "If I hadn't had that stupid tire blow out on my truck, and if I hadn't pulled off that particular ramp, or gone down the road with a frigging portal on it—"
"Then I never would have met you, Robin Mallory," he finished solemnly. "How could that be any kind of a good thing, at all?"
* * * * *
Naturally, she kissed him. No one had ever said anything so sweet to her. Even the way he reached for her, touched her cheek, brushed her hair back – all spoke with a tenderness she had never experienced before, from any man.
As his lips touched hers, she knew he was like no one she'd ever met. He held himself in check. She could feel the pounding of his heart under her hand, the barely restrained passion in his touch.
The kiss that had started so tentatively became hot in a matter of seconds. Jake groaned and Robin lifted her mouth from his, but he pulled her head back down, deepening the kiss immediately. Not pain, but desire. Her lips curved.
She felt him shift and she moved to follow his lead, as he pushed her down slowly to the floor and took control of the kiss, rising above her on his elbow.
Her arms encircled his neck. She suckled his lower lip as his tongue played over the contours of her mouth.
"Jake…" she whispered softly. "I think I—" She broke off. It was too soon. How could she possibly be falling in love with this man? After waiting for twenty-three years to find Mr. Right, she darn sure wasn't going to let herself fall for someone she could never have. Someone from another time period. None of this was even real.
But, oh, what a beautiful dream!
* * * * *
"Jake? Jake, are you in here?"
Ray. Jake broke the kiss and pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall of the cave. Robin scrambled up, as well, smoothing her hair, and looking decidedly guilty.
Jake smiled at her. "I'm here, Ray."
"Well, get your ass out here! Watie's pissed as hell. We could've used our best shooter back in camp." Footsteps sounded in the darkness and then Ray came into the ring of dim firelight where Jake and Robin sat, a few feet separating them.
"Hey, what happened to you?" Ray knelt immediately beside Jake, carefully pushing back the tattered buckskin to look at the wound. He let go a low whistle, his blue eyes filling with empathy as he glanced at Jake. "That has to hurt."
"Robin fixed me up.
Dug out the arrowhead. I haven't felt much like trying to look at the details of the workmanship though." He grinned at his friend.
"No need. We know who it was. Damn Running Wolf's scouting for the Yanks. They didn't know we were camped nearby until after they'd fired shots at you two. We were well warned." He laughed. "We just shinnied up those trees and made a bit of noise. When they came looking…" he glanced at Robin, then said, "Let's just say, a bunch of damn bluecoats have met their Maker on Christmas Eve."
"And what about Running Wolf? Was he alone, or did he have Cheyenne company?"
"Just two others. The three of them are dead, too." Ray stood up. "Let's get you out of here. Can you walk?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't tried since I got that piece of shale dug out of me." He tried to keep his tone light. Didn't want to worry Robin. But sitting up had cost him dearly. The movement had set the wound to throbbing, and he was afraid that walking might open it up again.
Ray was watching him closely. He nodded, reading Jake's unspoken thoughts. "Okay. Why don't we give it some time? I'll go back to camp and let the General know the two of you are all right, and where you are. You just rest a while, and I'll be back later with some of the boys."
Jake nodded. He couldn't manage anything more.
"That sounds good, Mr. Campbell," Robin said. "Maybe a couple of hours' rest would help."
"Sure thing, Miss." Ray tipped his hat and started toward the entry again. "See you in a bit. Get better, buddy."
"I will."
But Jake was having his doubts already. The arrowhead had been close to the surface and relatively easy to get to, though pulling it out had hurt like a son of a bitch. But that was all over. He wouldn't have thought he'd still have this much pain, and he didn't think it was all due to the movement. Running Wolf had been known to put poison on the tips of his arrowheads in the past, as many did.
Robin sat, watching him. He tried to erase the direction his thoughts had taken, but he wasn't quick enough.
"What's wrong, Jake?" She put out a hand when he started to answer. "Please don't say nothing. I can see something's got you worried."
He smiled wryly. "I – think there's a little more pain than normal."
Robin gave a short laugh. "Uh…yeah. That would be because you had me taking care of you, Jake. Someone who didn't know what they were doing."
He shook his head. "No. That's not it. It's different."
"Like – infection, maybe?"
His lips compressed. "Maybe."
"Or, poison of some kind?"
He gave her a sharp look. "I'm…hoping for the first choice, Robbi. The second one could mean it'll all be over for me soon."
"But, doesn't someone in your camp know how to counteract it? What about all the Indian remedies and treatments—"
"Well," he sighed, "I'm afraid I don't have a medicine man in my pocket."
Chapter Seven
Medicine. Pocket. In the passenger seat of her truck lay the answer. The antibiotics she'd taken for two days last week, then decided she didn't need any more. She'd spent two long days in a smoke-filled boardroom and come down with a sore throat and cold. The doctor had prescribed an antibiotic, but two days off work had been better medicine than the pills. She'd realized she didn't have something an antibiotic would cure – she'd just breathed too much smoke.
She'd brought along the pills, just in case. At Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry's age, she didn't want to take a chance of giving them something.
They weren't far from the road. From the truck. From the doorway to time she'd unwittingly stepped through. Could she make it to the truck, get the pills, and get back to Jake? Would they even work? Or would the poison be too strong? What if she managed to get through the hole in time and then couldn't get back here? Were there rules for such things?
"I have some medicine…." She said slowly. "But it's in my truck."
"Truck. Tell me about this truck of yours."
She gave him a sharp look. "There's no time for that now. Don't you see? If I could manage to get to the truck and get the medicine, then I could bring it back here, and—"
"Forget it, Robin."
"Why?"
"Because, you don't know if you could get through. That would leave you out in the open, with Union troops patrolling through here."
"But Ray said—"
"He doesn't have any way of knowing if they killed them all. It's too dangerous."
"It's the only way! It could save your life."
"I'll…be okay." But even as he said it, she saw him shudder, fighting off the first signs of fever.
She sat back on her heels. "You don't trust me, do you? You don't believe I will come back."
He shook his head. "It's not that."
"Then what is it?'
"Just what I said, honey." He seemed to gather himself. "Robin, I don't want the decision being made for you. If you go through the portal, you may not be able to get through a second time." He met her eyes. "But I know you would try. It seems…my heart trusts you."
"Though your mind doesn't."
He smiled. "The heart always convinces the mind, in the end." He suppressed a shiver.
Robin reached to take his hand. "You should have no worries, Jake. I do what I say I'll do. I would come back."
"If you were able, I know you would."
She shrugged. "If I couldn't get back, what difference would it make? I'd be back in my own time. Isn't that what's going to happen anyway?"
The look Jake gave her was wry. "Not until tomorrow, Robbi. I'm supposed to keep you here until then."
"Even…if it means you may die?" She swallowed hard. "I can't believe you'd be that bullheaded!"
He was silent a moment, then he said, "That's not the only reason. Not even the best reason."
"Then, why?" She was beside herself with trying to understand him.
"I want…this time with you. If you go back, and can't get through the doorway again—" He broke off and looked away. "I'm not usually so selfish. But in this, I don't want to see it end. I don't want you to go – not yet."
* * * * *
That wasn't exactly true, either. If he'd been completely honest, he'd have told her he didn't ever want to see her go. Her quick smile, her warm eyes, her generous heart – all would be gone from his world tomorrow. Some Christmas present.
But, he hadn't asked her to stay – mainly because he felt it was too soon for her to say yes to such a request. Also, because according to her, this war wouldn't be over for another four months. Right now, he just didn't want to watch her try to come up with a polite rejection.
The fever was coming on strong now. He shifted closer to the fire and lay down. The relief was great, just to be able to lie down rather than maintaining his sitting position. He couldn't see the wound, but it felt hot, as if the fever in his body centered there and radiated outward.
A cool cloth soothed his forehead as Robin leaned over him. Then, he felt her carefully pull back the torn buckskin over the wound to examine it. When she stood up, he opened his eyes.
"I'm going to the riverbank to find some moss. I remember that was a treatment used during this time."
Her voice was unsteady, as if she weren't sure. He nodded. "That would help. But, Robbi, be—"
"Shh. Jake, I'll be careful. I can't just sit by."
She didn't wait for an answer. When he said her name, there was no reply. She'd gone, but at least she'd taken his pistol. His eyes drifted closed, his leg on fire with the infection. Robbi. Robbi. He cursed Running Wolf. He cursed the pain. But most of all, he cursed Fate for allowing him this crumb of time with a woman he could imagine himself with forever.
She'd be gone tomorrow night. Then he'd have the rest of his life to think of what might have been.
* * * * *
Robin had no intention of stopping at the riverbank to look for moss. If she waited any longer to act, Ray and the others would be back. Then, there'd be no chance for her to try to get the medi
cine – not until it was too late.
She hurried across the river and kept to the trees, determination spurring her on toward the spot where, yesterday, Jake had come from nowhere and tackled her to the ground, rolling them both down the embankment.
She moved quickly, knowing that was no substitute for stealth. She only wanted to get through the portal – wherever it might be – and back to Jake, as fast as possible.
Her spirits rose with each step. She would grab the antibiotics and head back. She wouldn't be gone more than an hour, at most. But, in this case, an hour was critical. Her ankle turned painfully and she forced her thoughts back to what she had to do. The road seemed to subtly change, becoming more graveled, and wider.
Had she passed through the elusive doorway she'd sought? When had it happened? She didn't feel any different, but something had changed. Far away in the distance, she heard the sound of car engines.
The interstate!
She breathed a deep sigh of relief and hurried on toward where she'd left her truck. As she came up over a small rise, the blue roof came into view. Her footsteps quickened. The front windshield became visible, then the rest of the truck body, as she neared. She began to run.
She put her hand into her pocket and drew out her key chain. In a moment more, she'd reached the passenger door, and thrust the key into the lock. The door opened, and she unzipped the side pocket of her travel case. The pills were where she'd left them. She slipped the container into her jeans, then took out a notebook and pen from her bag in the floorboard.
Dear Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry,
I want you to know I am safe and happy. We will be together again someday.
I love you, Robin.
Her eyes stung. She hadn't realized she'd made the decision to stay, once she went back. But her aunt and uncle would worry. Maybe this note would be comforting to them. She had to get back to Jake with no more delay. For a moment, she debated with herself about taking the rest of her possessions with her. But carrying much of anything else would slow her down. It would make her an easier target, too. Reluctantly, she turned away. She touched the door of the truck in silent goodbye. Then, she laid the notebook on top of the travel case and closed the door. It was time to go.
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