Yellowstone Romance Series - Bundle (# 2-5) (20 page)

She led the horse right up to the door, then dropped the reins to the ground. Like a well-trained Indian pony, the mare stood still. Sarah rushed into the cabin, and opened her door wide. She hastily flipped some covers back on her bed, and stacked a few at the head. She didn’t want Chase lying flat. He needed to stay as upright as possible to ease his breathing.

He swayed on the mare’s back when she returned moments later.

“Chase, don’t pass out. Stay awake,” she yelled. The last thing he needed was to fall from the horse’s back.

“How do I get off?” he asked slowly.

“Lean forward, then pull your left leg over her back, and slide down. I’m sorry, there’s no other way. You will have to walk inside.”

“I’ll manage,” he grumbled, and did what she’d instructed. He hissed when his feet touched the ground. Sarah reached out and held his arm, trying her best to support him. This time he accepted her help and leaned heavily on her as she guided him into the cabin to the bedroom. With a heavy moan, he fell onto the bed.

“No, you have to lie upright on your back,” Sarah commanded. He would have simply passed out on his stomach the way he’d fallen on the bed. He didn’t move. “Come one, move,” she yelled. It hurt her to be this cruel. She could only imagine the pain his body was in, but it was necessary or the Blackfoot might be entitled to claim victory after all. Sarah had no intention of letting that happen.

“Get up, Chase Russell. Be a man,” Sarah barked. “Don’t let them defeat you now. You’re stronger and better than they are.”

Her words must have reached him. He pulled himself fully onto the bed.

“Roll on your back,” she commanded, tugging on his arm. Slowly, he complied. When she finally had him positioned the way she wanted him, she was drenched in sweat herself. Sarah felt his forehead. He was hot to the touch, and clammy. She pulled some covers over him. For the moment, he could rest. With a final concerned glance over her shoulder, she left the room to see to the mare, and prepare some medicines that she hoped would ease Chase’s pain.

Chapter 21

Sarah woke from a restless sleep. Two long days and nights of tending to Chase had started taking their toll. She was worn out, no question about it. But her condition was far better than his. His fever had raged on and off since bringing him home. He hadn’t fully regained consciousness, and often mumbled incoherently, or said words and phrases that made no sense to her. Thankfully, his breathing had returned to normal within a day, and Sarah heard no more raspiness to indicate fluid in his lungs, nor was there any more blood coming from his nose.

She bathed and dressed his feet in fresh bandages daily, checking for any signs of infection. She was pleased to see that the wounds all appeared to be healing well. She wasn’t nearly as proficient as her mother at assessing internal injuries, but she couldn’t feel any abnormal give to his ribs, and convinced herself that none were broken. Only a large bruise marred his right side. She’d removed his shirt and washed the dirt, blood, and sweat off his chest, arms, and face.

Sarah raised herself out of Samuel’s bed. Chase was muttering in his sleep again. She quickly pulled her britches on and climbed barefoot down the ladder to her room. The cabin was completely dark. She had no idea what time it was, but definitely not time to start the day yet. Quietly, she pushed her bedroom door fully open. Chase’s panicked voice startled her.

“No, please don’t leave. Stay with me. I love you, don’t you understand. Don’t go, please. I’ll try harder. I’m sorry for all the drinking.”

Sarah could hear the shifting of covers, and his limbs moving. What had he said?
I love you
. Who was he talking to in his sleep? And what did he mean by he was sorry for all the drinking? He’d told her he’d been drunk. Had he meant more than once? Sarah couldn’t recall the specifics of that conversation. Had he been drinking to forget a woman he was in love with? He was begging her to stay. Had she rejected him?

Sarah, do you really want the answers?
Her heart pounded faster. It would explain his desire to return home, wanting to return to the woman he loved. But he had told her he didn’t want attachments. Was that a lie to end her question? Her eyes began to sting. She blinked several times, trying to fight back tears. 

Slowly, she walked closer to the bed. He hadn’t said any more. Sarah sat on the edge, and felt for his face. He was drenched in sweat, but his skin felt cool. His fever had broken. Despite her trepidation, she smiled. He would live. He had beaten all the odds, defeated a village of Blackfoot, and he would live to tell about it. He was an incredible man, and she loved him. Sarah caressed his cheek.

His hand shot up suddenly, and he grabbed her wrist, the strong grip biting painfully into her skin. She nearly fell off the bed from the shock.

“Chase. Let go. You’re hurting me,” she gasped, and pulled against his tight hold.

“Sarah?” he answered weakly out of the dark. He released her immediately. “I’m . . . sorry. I couldn’t see. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Let me light the lamp,” she said, and scooted off the bed, rubbing her wrist as she fumbled in the dark through the cabin for the lantern on the table. 

She returned to her room, finding him sitting propped up against the wall.

“I feel as weak as a newborn baby,” he said. “What time did we get back to the cabin?”

“Two days ago,” she said, setting the lamp on the table beside the bed. His eyes no longer looked glazed. He was definitely better.

“Two days! I’ve been out for two days?”

“You’ve been battling a fever.”

He pushed himself further up. “Hell, I need to get out of bed,” he grumbled.

“Can it wait until the sun rises?” Sarah asked, a smile on her face. After two days of worrying whether he would live or die, she was elated to have him conscious again.

“It’s good to see you smiling, Angel,” he said. His voice sent shivers down her spine. “I do need to get out of bed, though.”

“Surely it can wait.”

“Ah . . . no it can’t. Nature calls.”

Sarah felt her face grow hot. Hopefully the shadows cast by the lantern would conceal it. Why didn’t she think of that? She darted for his moccasins at the foot of the bed, hoping for a distraction.

With a loud groan, Chase pulled his legs over the edge of the bed, holding the right side of his ribcage. “God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.”

Sarah knelt before him on the ground, and gently slipped his shoes on his feet. She glanced up. She could swear her heart stopped beating when her eyes met his. There was something different in the way he looked at her. She couldn’t define what it was, but the boyish silliness was gone, replaced with the seriousness of a grown man’s face. His eyes held a certain intensity that took her breath away.

“Get up, Sarah,” he said quietly. “You’re not my servant.”

“I . . . I just wanted to help. Your feet should be covered when you go outside.” She sat back on her haunches, and finished putting the shoe on his foot. She felt his hand under her arm, pulling her up.

“You have done more for me than I can ever repay, Angel.” He stood, his face contorting in a grimace. He hadn’t released her arm yet. She’d forgotten how big he was when she stood right next to him. The last few days, she’d looked down at him. Now she had to look up.

 Her eyes swept over him. His stomach looked sunken in, and no wonder. He hadn’t eaten in four days. The little bit of broth she’d been able to give him had not provided enough nourishment to sustain a man his size. His skin pulled tightly over his muscled arms and chest. He’d definitely lost weight. Nothing a few good meals wouldn’t bring back, though.

“Do you need assistance to walk outside?” she asked tentatively.

“I’ll manage,” he answered. He released her arm, and took a first slow step. “My feet feel better already,” he said.  “I’m just weak as hell.”

It took him several minutes to get to the door of the cabin. Sarah watched him. There was nothing she could do but let time heal his wounds. The weakness would go away once he could move around more again, and his feet seemed to be healing well. She’d do whatever she could to help restore his strength. The question was, would he accept her help.

Sarah glanced around. It was too late now to think about going back to sleep. She built up the fire in the hearth, and pulled the kettle over it to reheat the stew she’d cooked the day before. He’d no doubt be hungry when he returned. She sliced thick pieces of bread, setting them on a plate at the table. Measuring out more willow bark into the coffee pot, she added water to it, and set the pot near the fire to heat. 

When he returned from outside, his meal sat waiting. He glanced at the table, then looked at her. The warmth in his eyes made her want to melt into the floorboards.

“Sarah, you’ve got to be tired. I hate for you go through all this trouble for me.”

“Oh? So you were going to prepare your own meal, were you?” she said haughtily. “You’ve had no food in four days. Pretty soon even the wolves and bears won’t find any meat on you.”

“Well, since you put it like that,” he grinned at her, and pulled a chair from beneath the table. “You’re right, I could eat a horse. But this will do just fine.”

Sarah turned away from him to conceal the wide smile on her face. Why did he act so different? So . . . nice.

*****

Chase’s health improved with each passing day. Sarah insisted on tending to the wounds on his feet daily, amidst all his protests that he could do it himself, and she was pleased with the healing progress. He was able to walk longer and with less pain. The bruise on his ribs had turned various shades of yellow, a good indication that it was healing. 

She still couldn’t explain the change that had come over him. He was kind and polite, and his rude comments had stopped completely. Was this his way of showing his gratitude to her? Sarah had thought herself in love with him before his encounter with the Blackfoot. The man he was now melted her heart faster than snow falling into a hot spring.

While he treated her with nothing but respect, there was a certain ferocious resolve about him that she couldn’t explain. She sometimes caught him looking off into the distant mountains, gripping his tomahawk with such intensity, she’d see the sinewy tendons and muscles on his forearms stretch taunt. His easy going expressions she’d come to love, and found infuriating at the same time, were absent. While his outer wounds healed with each day, the invisible scars in his mind seemed to fester and grow worse.

Sarah didn’t know what to do. She had learned over many years of dealing with her brothers that a man did not like sharing his inner thoughts. Her father seemed to be the exception. There was nothing he didn’t communicate to her mother. But she did not share that closeness her parents had with Chase. She didn’t know how to approach him about his inner demons. The battle for his life with the Blackfoot must have left a deeper scar within him than any physical wounds ever could.  

With concern, she watched him push his physical limits every day. He carried fresh buckets of water from the river, whether she needed them or not. The wood box was never empty. Sarah had argued with him, and lost, that chopping wood wasn’t something he should be doing yet.  She caught him practicing his throwing skills with the tomahawk with fierce tenacity, sometimes for hours at a time. Many trees in the vicinity bore the scars of his persistence.

“Would you like some water?” she called, walking up behind him during one of his practice sessions. His back glistened with sweat in the noontime sun. He turned to face her, accepting the water bag she held out to him. He wiped his hand across his forehead and took a long drink.

Sarah couldn’t help but watch the muscles move along his chest and arm, and how his scorpion tattoo moved as if it were alive. His body had grown stronger, his muscles leaner and firmer with each passing day.

“What are you staring at, Angel?” he asked, his voice teasing. He handed the water bag back to her. She hadn’t been aware she’d been watching him so intently. Her face flushed, embarrassed at being caught openly staring at him.

“I . . . was just wondering about the tattoo you have. I’ve never seen one so perfect.”

“No? This one’s a real simple one.”

Encouraged that he remained polite, she couldn’t help herself from asking the question that had been on her mind since she’d first seen the tattoo. “What is the meaning of the scorpion?”

“My high school football team was called the Scorpions. We all had this done at the beginning of our senior year.”

Sarah shook her head, not understanding.

“I know you probably don’t know what I’m saying. It’s kind of like a mascot. Do you know what that is?”

“A good luck symbol?” she ventured a guess.

“Yeah, something like that.” He smiled.

Sarah looked up at him. His green eyes had turned dark like the forest around them.  His face grew serious.

“Why did you kiss me that day in that Indian village, Sarah?” His words were spoken in a low, quiet voice. It was a question she was not prepared for.

“I . . . I thought you would die.” She lowered her head. He chuckled.

“Last meal for a condemned man?” he asked, his tone strained. She directed her gaze at him once more.

“Chase, you have done what no man has ever done before. I have never heard of anyone, especially a white man, surviving what you survived. Men will talk of your deed for many years. You defeated the best young warriors of their tribe. This is not a feat to be taken lightly.”  She tentatively put a hand on his forearm. “You will be remembered in many lodges as a great hero to those who count the Blackfoot as their enemies.”

Chase scoffed. “Some hero. If I had listened to you, or if I knew how to defend myself in this godforsaken wilderness, this wouldn’t have happened. I can’t even take care of myself. Every time I turn around, someone’s trying to kill me.” The fierce look in his eyes, the angry set in his jaw, made her back away.