Love So Deep Page 6

  Samantha tingled from a rush of pleasure she’d never experienced before. One kiss could do that? She glowed when he turned and gave her one last glance. Finally he was just a speck in the lush woods, then gone. Did he feel the same way about her?

  It had been so hard to pretend indifference to him but she did what she had to. Violet Flower still glared at her. The last two weeks cooped up with her had gotten on her last nerve. Without privacy, she couldn’t wash herself properly.

  At least now, she could give Brian a bath and take one herself. Violet Flower, how’d she get such a pretty name? Her name should be Stink Weed. A wide grin spread across her face. From now on whenever she said Violet Flower she would think Stink Weed. A private joke would help the tension a whole lot. She’d hoped Stink Weed would have become nicer as her time neared. It was a false hope. In fact, she was ornery and believed her needs came first. She demanded the first helping at each meal, the first cup of coffee or tea and she refused to turn her back while others changed clothes or tried to wash up. Patrick hung a blanket when needed for privacy but it wasn’t quite adequate.

  Jamming her hands into her pockets, she trudged through the snow, back to the cabin. She opened the door and gasped. Brian had his back to the fire and was precariously close to the flames. In two quick strides, she reached him and pulled him away from the fire. “Are you alright?”

  He gave her a strange look. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you feel the fire hot on your back?”

  He shrugged. “I felt nice and warm.”

  She turned him toward the fire. “Look where you were sitting and how close the flames were to you.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow, I need to be more careful.”

  Hugging him to her she nodded, her throat too closed to answer.

  “You need to watch him,” Violet Flower said, her voice sarcastic.

  “Thanks for your help,” she shot back. She turned away before she said something she’d later regret.

  She fussed over Brian for a bit, trying to regain her equilibrium. Patrick’s kiss had put her off balance. She touched her lips and smiled. Immediately she realized her mistake as Stink Weed gave her a piercing, knowing look.

  “Just remember Mountain Man is mine,” she hissed.

  Samantha turned away and closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Since Patrick will probably be gone all night, I think it’ll be bath night.”

  “Aww, Sam.”

  “I know you have no love for bathing, but it will be easier with less people to trip over in here. Violet Flower what about you?” She didn’t bother to turn to the woman. She didn’t expect an answer.

  “I would like to, only if no one sees me.”

  A spiteful reply almost passed her lips and Samantha swallowed. “Fine.”

  Brian searched her gaze with widened eyes and she shrugged at him. She knew very well his discomfort of Violet Flower’s refusal to give others privacy. It was near the other woman’s time and she wanted her clean for the birth. It would be safer, at least she hoped so. Her mother always kept store with the philosophy of cleanliness being the best way to heal.

  “After we eat, we can begin our baths. I think we can all use privacy tonight.” She glanced over her shoulder at Stink Weed, hoping she got the message.

  “I want to take my bath first.”

  “Of course you do.” Ignoring Violet Flower, she got their meal together and they ate. Brian regaled her with his imaginings of what Patrick might be doing. Her only wish was for his safe return.

  After they finished she pulled the wash tub in front of the fire and poured a bucket of hot water in it. Next, she poured some cold water in. Taking a bar of lye soap and a fresh towel, she handed them to Violet Flower. “Here you go. We will turn our backs.” Instantly she wondered if turning their backs to her was such a good idea. Brian sat at the table facing the front door. She sat next to him, her body tense and ready to react if need be.

  All was silent. “Do you need help?”

  A reluctant yes was given in reply and Samantha stood and turned. Lord help her, but she wanted to laugh. Violet Flower was stuck in her dress.

  “Hold on and let me help. It must be hard in your condition.” It took a bit of doing, Violet Flower was much taller than she was but she managed to get her clothes off without looking.

  “Thank you.”

  Surprised, she looked at her and gasped. There were thin lashes on her sides and she suspected her back was lined. “Do they-- do they hurt? Let me check your back.”

  Jutting out her chin, Violet Flower shook her head. “No. It is my business. Please go sit down.”

  Opening her mouth to speak, she quickly closed it and nodded. It wasn’t her business and if the whip marks were infected, they would have known by now. Her heart went out to the cantankerous woman. She actually knew little about her. She sat back down next to Brian and they spelled out words aloud.

  When Violet Flower was finished, Samantha helped her dress, led her to a chair Brian put in front of the fire and wrapped her up in a fur. “I have coffee on for you. It will be ready soon. Brian, come and help me empty the water from the tub.”

  Brian grumbled, but he helped her. Next, she made Brian take a bath, the world’s quickest bath, and then she took one herself. The water felt wonderful and to her surprise, Violet Flower didn’t look. Perhaps the woman had reason to be so hostile, not that she was excusing her behavior, but maybe she understood it.

  The dark silence of the night covered them as they lay to sleep but sleep eluded her. Now was time for reflection and the kiss she’d shared with Patrick whirled in her thoughts. Where she came from a kiss meant something. It meant intentions leading to marriage. Her heart dropped. It probably meant nothing to Patrick. Why would it? Women were most likely plentiful for him. If he’d wanted a wife, he’d have one—wouldn’t he? After all, he was very handsome and strong. He could provide well for a family. Turning on her side, she watched the flames twist and turn. It was probably how warped Violet Flower’s heart was, if she even had one. Maybe she wasn’t being fair. They were just a group of people who had no one.

  Patrick stared at the old log cabin. There was no fire but tracks led to it. His suspicion Smitty was dead was probably right. The wind howled through the trees as he made his way to the back of the cabin. He backed further into the woods, into the shadow of the trees. He’d hunker down and wait until morning. He’d survived colder temperatures before. Sitting down, he leaned his back against the trunk of a massive fir tree, placing his rifle across his lap.

  People thought Indians were the ones to fear. He’d always had fair dealings with them. The white men came and made trouble. This was one man he was itching to pummel. They’d played a game of hide and seek all afternoon. The other man knew he was being followed and was amazingly adept at hiding his tracks. These were his woods and he eventually found the trail.

  Thoughts of Samantha kept him company. Her skin so soft, so white, was the problem. He never should have kissed her. It only ignited a bigger need for her and there would be no happy ending. Her fascination with him came from him being different and that same fascination would hurt her. Damn, she felt so good in his arms. There was a sense of peace when he kissed her, along with unquenchable desire. She stirred him like no other. Sighing, he looked up at the moon, wondering if they were all getting along. Maybe it was a good thing to have Brian and Violet Flower as chaperones. Although there were plenty of times he wished the opposite.

  Her soft lips—a lighted match caught his attention. Must be too cold in the cabin for the polecat. He shook his head. Being a trapper was not the life for everyone. Hell, only a few stuck with it after one winter. He enjoyed the solitude, or so he thought until Samantha came along.

  He watched and waited until the sun came up. He made his way to the front of the cabin, being careful not to be seen. He wanted a good look at the coward who left a set trap for the women and Brian. He took another step and he didn’t have time t
o react before the jaws of the trap clamped painfully around his ankle. The pain was unbearable but he didn’t cry out.

  The front door opened and a tall, slender man came out. Patrick knew the man couldn’t see him, but he stared his way. Was that Solomon? He aimed his rifle but the weasel was quicker. He shot the rifle out of his hands and laughed.

  “How does it feel to be caught in your own trap?”

  “I take it you’re Solomon? What kind of game are you playing?”

  “Yes, I’m Solomon. The game is called getting even. You stole from me, so I’m stealing from you. You made life hard for me so I’m trying to make it miserable for you.”

  “So, taking my pelts and traps weren’t enough for ya?” he growled.

  “I want what is mine.” Solomon smirked. “And for my trouble I think I’ll help myself to what isn’t mine. She’s a pretty little thing. I bet she’d be willing to go with me. I can’t imagine her staying with a half-breed like you.”

  Patrick tried to keep his expression calm. He’d dealt with men like this before, men who feed off the fear of others. No, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Solomon didn’t step close enough for him to grab and Patrick had the feeling he’d be shot down if he tried to escape the trap.

  Solomon made a wide circle around him to get to the tree. The trap was affixed to the tree by a chain and lock. Giving it a hard yank, he laughed as Patrick fell. “Well I won’t have to worry about you trailing me today. Don’t think I’ll be back this way. I just might hole up at your place, seeing as you won’t need it anymore.”

  Patrick glared but stayed silent as he lay on the cold ground. He wanted Solomon to be confident in his plan as he left. He wouldn’t look over his shoulder if he wasn’t expecting anyone to be there and it would be a great advantage.

  Solomon went inside, grabbed his stuff and walked away on Smitty’s snowshoes.

  Poor bastard. He hoped Smitty had died before Solomon came across him. He could feel blood seep down his leg but he remained still. He waited to see if Solomon would double back. Slowly he got up, groaning the whole while. Bending down, he drew the sides of the trap down as he lifted his weight off. Many men couldn’t do it but most trappers could. It was survival in the mountains.

  He rummaged through his stuff until he found an old length of cloth he carried for such emergencies. Lifting his pant leg, he grimaced and tied the cloth around his wounds. Damn, figures it was his best bear trap. The bone wasn’t broken and that was all that mattered. When he was done, he looked up at the sky, Solomon only had an hour lead-time on him.

  His mountain, his trails. If Solomon was so big on traps, he’d set one just for him.

  Samantha watched outside as Brian brought in more wood. She stared at the place she last saw Patrick, hoping he’d suddenly appear. “I think we need to tend to Ahern,” she called to him. Brian nodded as he went inside, his arms laden with logs. She loved the change in him; he now trusted her.

  Shuddering as a blast of cold air came her way, she hurried into the barn. A wide grin graced her face at the sight of Ahern. She’d been around horses before, but none as noble looking as the one she petted. “I miss Patrick too,” she murmured.

  “Too bad since he ain’t coming back.”

  She turned toward the menacing voice and gasped. “Who--who are you?”

  “Does it really matter, Samantha?”

  How did he know her name? “You said Patrick isn’t coming back?” She slowly inched toward the door.

  “If he ain’t dead now, he will be soon. Poor fellow got caught in his own trap.” His sinister smile sickened her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Brian running her way. “Don’t come in here!” she shouted. Her heart was in her throat as he came barreling in.

  He stopped short and shook his head. “Solomon, how did you find me?” His voice wavered.

  “Well now, you don’t think I’d let my best buddy freeze in these mountains, do you? I’ve been looking for you. In fact, it’s cost me a lot of time and effort to rescue you.”

  Brian stiffened and his eyes grew wide. There was no hiding the stark fear on his face.

  “Brian, run! Find Patrick, he’s in trouble.”

  Brian hesitated and gave her a long look before he took off like a rabbit across the clearing.

  Solomon roared and pushed her to the ground before he chased after Brian. Getting up, she raced into the cabin and grabbed the rifle.

  “What is happening?”

  “Stay here, Violet Flower. A man named Solomon is after Brian and he said Patrick was dying.” Her hands shook as she checked to be sure the rifle was loaded. She knocked the old clock to the ground, grabbed more shells and shoved them into her pocket. Sprinting to the door, she pulled it open, only to find the tall man on the other side ready for her. He grabbed the rifle and hit her in the head with the butt of it. Everything went black.

  Her eyes fluttered and her hand touched her head as she groaned. What happened? She remembered and suddenly sat up. The room seemed to tilt one way then the other. After scanning the cabin, she sighed, relieved Brian was not there. Maybe Solomon would just leave.

  “My, my look who’s awake. I was getting a bit worried that I might have hit you too hard.” He sat in one of the chairs, placed in front of the door, with his rifle cradled in his arms. His coonskin hat was on the table and his long, stringy, filthy hair was in view.

  Cringing, her gaze met Violet Flower’s. There might have been a hint of fear in her eyes but it was hard to tell. Her face was as stoic as usual. Disappointed, she looked away. She’d hoped for a look of comradery. Something to give her a signal they were on the same side.

  “Flower, put more wood on the fire, I’m cold.” He barked and when she hesitated, he stood and took a step toward her. “There are other ways I can keep warm and you well know it.”

  Violet Flower immediately stood and put two more logs to burn. Her mouth formed a grim line. Had she known Solomon before? Something wasn’t right, but what could be right in such a situation?

  “Then again maybe a white woman would give me more satisfaction. What do you think, Flower?” He smirked at them both.

  “Maybe she would.”

  Samantha gasped and her hand went to her throat. Maybe she would? What type of response was that? Obviously, it was each woman for herself. Closing her shaking hands, she kept her gaze on them, hoping Solomon would forget her. She said a brief prayer for Brian and Patrick’s safety. Her heart dropped as she remembered what the man had said about Patrick being dead or near death. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t.

  “Hope that little brat returns home soon. I’d hate to have to go after him now that I’ve found him.”

  “You’ve been in these mountains the whole time? Where did you stay?”

  “Some old geezer was kind enough to croak so I could have a warm place. I like it here better.” He licked his lips. “The scenery is much better, right Flower?”

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “You two know each other.”

  “We sure do, don’t we Flower? You see, me and Flower here have a special relationship. I find her in the woods and she spreads her legs for me. Right, Flower?”

  The roiling of her stomach was almost too much. “Violet Flower doesn’t seem the type to allow anyone to do anything like that to her.”

  “She’s married, you know. I got her once and the threat of telling her warrior husband about us kept her mine. She hadn’t been around lately and her husband has a new wife already. Pretty little thing.”

  Violet Flower had remained calm until the last part about her husband was said. Suddenly she lunged at Solomon with a knife in her hand. A shot rang out and Violet Flower sank to the ground, blood pouring from her shoulder.

  Samantha quickly stood but stilled when the rifle was pointed at her. “I just want to help her is all. She’s bleeding something awful.”

  “Do you have a knife too?”

  “Y, yes. The one I use to
cook with. Actually no.”

  “Which is it?”

  She shook at his gruff voice. “Violet Flower must have stolen the knife while I was in the barn.”

  “You ain’t too smart, are ya? Get over here and patch her up. She’s carrying my baby and I’m not sure if I want it or not.”

  Disgust filled her as she grabbed a towel and scurried over to Violet Flower’s side, pressing the towel against her shoulder to staunch the bleeding. It took a bit of doing but she got it to slow.

  “Put the knife in the fire,” Solomon demanded.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

  She stared at him for a moment then moved just close enough to him to grab the knife. There was no doubt in her mind, he’d shoot her if she disobeyed. “In the fire?”

  “Just the blade. You’ll have to seal up the bullet holes in her with the knife.”

  “I see.” She really didn’t see. Sounded painful to her.

  “The baby,” Violet Flower croaked.

  Putting the knife in the fire, she instantly went to Violet Flower’s side. “Let me help you to the bed.”

  Violet flower shook her head vehemently. “No bed.”

  Nodding, she took a few clean furs and laid the biggest one on the floor. It looked to be in the shape of a bear. What if Brian met up with a bear? Helping the other woman, she laid her on the fur. This wasn’t her first baby. She’d helped with two while she was on the wagon train. “I need to boil water.”

  “Do what you need, just remember I’m watching you.”

  Samantha nodded and put water on to heat. She grabbed a piece of the leather stripping Violet Flower had used to stitch the buckskins together. She’d need it to tie off the baby. Violet Flower neither writhed nor screamed and she began to wonder if she was really in labor. “Are you okay?”

  “Indian women don’t carry on like your kind does.” Solomon told her. “I think the knife is hot enough.”

  “You don’t expect me—”

  “Hell you have no backbone, do ya? Go sit on the bed until I’m done.”