At the Rainbow's End (22 page)

He nodded, and drew Kevin's arm around his shoulder. Together they aided the weak man into the cabin. By the time they reached the table, they were supporting him totally. His feet dragged at the end of his rubbery legs. While Joel assisted him into bed, she took the coffee pot off the warming shelf and placed it on the stove. In the brief minutes between completing that task and joining Joel by the bedside, she could see that Kevin had taken a marked change for the worse.

“It might be mountain fever,” whispered the dark-haired man before she could ask. “I saw a man with it up the river. They say he got it from a skeeter bite. He suffered horribly.”

“Did he—did he—?”

He hugged her in silent comfort. Not removing his eyes from the man lost in the dark region of his chills, he shook his head. “No, he didn't die, but he was so sick he had to go home. Damn shame it was, for they discovered gold less than a month after he left.”

The riches which might be in the river were the least of her concerns. She stared at the man huddled beneath the covers, alarmed. Then strength flowed through her. She had heard of a similar illness along the swampy, low lying river areas of the Ohio. She knew how it should be treated.

“Joel, get the blankets off my bed upstairs. While he is cold, we must do everything we can to make him cozy. Within the hour, he will be far warmer than he ever wanted to be.”

He smiled at her courage. She would battle this enemy she had never met. Since she arrived on Fifteen Above, she always faced each challenge with forthrightness. He listened to her orders for extra firewood and the medicine bag she kept on a shelf in the addition. As he climbed the ladder to her private quarters, he noticed she was pouring a cup of coffee for the sick man.

Samantha sat on the edge of the bed. In the week since their trip to Grand Forks she had avoided Kevin, unsure which side of him she would meet. Her fear of the vicious stranger kept her far from her friend. She forgot that now, as she stroked his pale knuckles on the coverlet.

“Kevin?” she called quietly. She put a hand under the cup. His shivers shook the bed so hard that she was afraid the motion would spill its contents and scald them. “Kevin, I have something warm for you to drink.”

With great effort, he opened his eyes slowly and tried to focus them on her. She knew he could see her when he smiled and whispered, “Samantha?”

“I have some hot coffee to ease the chill. Let me help you sit, and you can have a sip.”

“I'm so
cold
.” His chattering teeth made it nearly impossible to discern his words.

She slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and eased him up slightly, intently balancing him and keeping the cup at his lips. She clenched her jaw as she fought not to lose him or the mug, every muscle along her shoulder blades protesting in discomfort.

When she felt Joel's broad arm beneath hers, she raised her eyes to his worried ones. She flashed him a grateful smile and placed the cup more securely at Kevin's lips. How much longer she could have held him without spilling it, she was not sure.

He waved the drink away after a few more sips. Joel lowered him gently against the pillows. When Samantha placed her fingers on Kevin's forehead, Joel's blue eyes watched her. Her expression confirmed what he guessed.

If it was mountain fever, it was running its course very rapidly. Too rapidly. It must be something else—something potentially more dangerous for all of them than just chronic chills and sweat.

Samantha did not meet his eyes as she drew the other blankets over the bed and tucked them around the ailing man. She smoothed the covers as lovingly as a doting parent. It did not surprise Joel when she bent to place a cool kiss against Kevin's flushed forehead.

As she went to the stove to warm some soup to offer her patient, Joel kept his eyes on her lithe form. Her actions seconded what he had heard but refused to believe. She did love Kevin Houseman. She loved him as a sister loved a brother, as a friend, as her partner who shared a distant dream. She loved him differently than she loved Joel Gilchrist, whose heart heard what hers sang secretly in spite of her denials.

“Can I help?” he asked quietly, smiling softly.

It seemed so wrong to feel this wondrous when Kevin suffered, yet she could not help being happy. Joel was offering her that special expression he saved solely for her. Her left hand stroked his arm as she continued to stir the soup.

“Are you returning to the creek?”

“Not if you need me here.”

“You know how much I need you,” she whispered. The flare in his eyes told her he guessed at the true meaning of her words.

His folded fingers tilted her chin as his lips descended to touch hers for a succulent second. When his other arm went around her waist, his hand tangled in the ribbons of her skirt, and he hungered to undo them.

“Joel, the soup will burn.” Although she did not want to leave the tantalizing caress of his body, she slowly stepped away. He stroked her slowly, sensually, wanting her to forget everything but the need to be his.

“It's not the only thing overheating in this room,” he whispered.

“Joel!” Her reprimand was accompanied by a smile, because he winked, trying to defuse the power of the desire ready to explode between them.

She poured the soup in a bowl and placed it on the warming shelf. It would be ready when Kevin awoke. His weak body had succumbed to sleep. She would not have a chance to do the same until he was well.

When she held up the ladle in a silent question, Joel nodded. The soup smelled wonderful to him. She placed a dish before him and sat on the opposite bench.

“None for you, Sam?”

“I can't eat when I'm worried.” She glanced anxiously at the bed where Kevin lay motionless.

“You don't want to become ill,” Joel cautioned.

A wry smile eased the fear on her face. “No, I don't. Is mountain fever contagious?”

“No—if it
is
that.”

“I'm going to assume that he has mountain fever. The treatment must be the same as for other fevers. I hope we can help him.”

Joel placed his hand over hers. Softly, he said, “I hope so, too.”

That heartfelt phrase stayed with Samantha all through the days to follow. Whatever held Kevin in its horrible grip refused to release him, despite her attempts to ease his suffering.

Joel did all he could to help, but more than once she sent him to the river to work. He did not possess the necessary patience to take care of a bedridden patient.

With the hours of sunlight shortening, Joel tried to do all the work outside in the few hours of bright light. The long, Arctic twilights indolently welcomed the night.

One day, when a week had passed, she saw the first signs of a turn toward recovery. The periods of delirium, when Kevin moaned unintelligible phrases and gnashed his clenched teeth, disappeared. Occasionally, he opened his eyes and seemed to remember where he was. Too weak to speak, he drank the broth always waiting for him.

At the end of that first day of improvement, though, she was shocked to see him relapse into the deep fever again. She wondered if she only had imagined the change. The thought of the ongoing battle seemed too much to face. Tears scorched the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Preparing herself for another long night, Samantha poured herself some coffee and put a mug before Joel, who sat at the table. She lifted her cup, then lowered it without taking a drink. Her eyes strayed to the man lost in delirium. “Should we try to take him to the hospital?”

“No.”

Softly, she moaned, “He is so sick.”

She looked at the distress on Joel's face.

“There's no hospital in Grand Forks, Sam. You know how far it is to Dawson. If the river was frozen and we had a dog team, it would be a possibility. Along the shore on horseback would be too dangerous.” He paused and looked at her directly for the first time in days, for they had found it easier to ignore the pain on each other's faces. “We won't attempt that unless we have no other choice.”

“Oh, God help us,” she breathed, realizing what he meant. Only if Kevin were near death would they risk the rough journey.

When he stood, his arm around her shoulders offering her the sturdiness of his body, she needed that strength as she never had. None of her remedies seemed to make a lasting difference in Kevin's condition.

“I don't want him to die!”

“Neither do I, sweetheart. He has taught me more than I could have learned alone about life here in the Yukon.” He smiled with gentle memories. “Everything was so good between us.”

“Until I arrived?”

He wiped a lone tear from her cheek. To see this strong woman weep unmanned him. He wanted to hold her until the power of love strangled the fear taunting them; “Sam, what has happened isn't your fault. We were fools to believe we could twist a woman to our plans. Maybe others would have been less resistant than you, but you were the one I wanted.”

“You?”

“Both of us.”

She moved away from him, guilt driving away her dreams of being in his arms and feeling his lips on hers. She should not be thinking of the way his azure eyes glowed. All her thoughts should be with the man across the small room.

When Joel turned her back with a light touch of hands along her upper arms, she wanted to tell him to stop, that this was all wrong. She could not. Battling this sickness had drained her, and she needed his love to revive her. Suddenly the dam broke.

Tears dampened his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest, arms around his neck. Sitting on the bench, he settled her on his knees. She cried about everything which had gone wrong since the beginning of her odyssey to the north. There was so much—promises broken, and illusions shredded beyond recognition.

Her sorrow spread into Joel, and he leaned his head against hers. He listened to her sobs and the mumbled phrases of his friend on the bed, staring silently at the red glow peeking from beneath one of the doors of the stove. If Kevin could not return to work, they would have to sell the claim. The springtide would require two to man the sluice.

Samantha jumped from his lap to rush across the room, interrupting his grim thoughts. She knelt by the bed and took Kevin's hand in hers. Her head bent forward to listen to his muttered words, she stroked his forehead and whispered something Joel could not hear. When he heard Kevin's muted chuckle, a warmth spread through him, thawing some of the coldness which had frozen his heart long ago.

Sam's gentle giving spirit had found a home in this rustic cabin. He recalled her letters from the failing farm in the Ohio River valley. He could remember every word she had written. He had read them over and over, sensing her frustration at being considered a burden. She yearned to be wanted and to be loved, and most of all to be needed.

He studied her profile, brightened by a smile, wondering if she would be willing to share a future with him beyond this cabin. He had asked her to choose him, more than once. Each time she refused, but he noted the longer and longer hesitation.

Samantha felt his gaze. Looking from Kevin to Joel, she felt a flutter in her center. As she had so often, she wondered if this was love, this wondrous thrill leaping through her like a hind bounding amid trees. She wanted to speak the words held prisoner in her heart, but feared his response—she would be in despair if he did not share her feelings, in danger if he did.

“Samantha?”

“Yes, Kevin. I'm right here.” She patted his perspiration soaked hand, rejoicing. The fever had broken again, and he recognized her. If the fire in his skin stayed away through the night, he might be better in the morning. She scowled and looked at the addition, wondering what time it was. Starlight sifted through the strange window, to ripple on the ribbed floorboards.

“Do you love me, Samantha?”

She swallowed hard, covering her shock by smoothing the covers over him. In a studiously pleasant voice, she said, “Now isn't the time to speak about such things. You know you are very, very special to me, Kevin Houseman, but all I want you to do is think about getting well.”

His fingers shook as he lifted her hand to his lips. Fever glazed eyes met hers when he whispered, “I love you.”

Turning away before her face could betray her, she said, “Sleep. I'll give you your next dose of medicine in an hour. For now, sleep.” She slid her hand out of his weakened grip and walked to the back of the cabin to look outside.

The night sky was distorted by the window bottles. She shivered as the icy wind seeped through the chinks in the walls. Her forehead rested against the glass, letting the cold cut through her distress.

“Sam, why don't you go to bed? You're exhausted.”

Slowly she faced Joel. In the shadows of the darkened room, without his glasses, Kevin would be unable to see clearly. She was grateful for his nearsightedness.

Her hands rose to the sharp planes of Joel's face. Stroking them, she brought his mouth to hers. She sighed deep into his mouth when he pressed her close to the wall. Every inch of her was reintroduced to the breadth of his body. The tempo of his breathing matched hers as he kissed her again and again, each kiss filled with more fierce desire.

When his lips moved along her face to the skin revealed above her modest blouse, her fingers explored the length of his back, feeling his hard muscles. As she moved to the rhythm of an unknown melody somewhere deep in her center, she sensed his growing passion.

“Joel?” she whispered. The word vanished into a murmur of rapture when his fingers loosened her hair.

“Yes, Sam?”

“I love you.”

About to kiss her again, he paused. Brushing her dark tresses back from her face, he moved slightly, so he could see her in the dim light. “What did you say?”

Saucily, she teased, “You heard me.”

“I know, but I want to hear you say it again.”