A Bride in the Bargain Part 40

She gasped, triggering her cough.

Joe offered her his handkerchief. "Did Doc give you something new for that last week? He told me he would."

When the coughing stopped, she took slow, careful breaths. The breeze seemed to help, despite the moisture it picked up from the bay.

Still, she didn't rush herself. The last thing she wanted was to have a breathing episode. Joe had only observed that first one when they were at Lake Washington. She had no desire to have him witness another.

"Have you been taking your elecampane and licorice?"

Anna nodded.

"And it hasn't helped?"

"Not too much." Her voice came out scratchy and rough.

She should tell him. Now. Before the evening progressed. But before she could, the canoe veered toward the sh.o.r.e. She looked over her shoulder.

In a clearing not far from the water, a half dozen torches surrounded a temporary house like those the Indians summered in. All her good intentions disappeared. He'd clearly gone to a great deal of trouble on her behalf. She wasn't about to spoil it. Not yet, at least.

Pushing thoughts of her illness to the back of her mind, she committed to simply enjoying the evening. Two squatty youths ran out, splashing into the water to help pull the boat on sh.o.r.e.

Once they reached the sand, Joe stepped out, scooped her up, and carried her toward the house made of woven cattail mats. The smell of food made her mouth water. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.

Inside, Joe set her on her feet. Indian women in the adopted skirt and shirtwaist of the Americans bustled around a wide trench that held the cooking fire. All were barefoot.

Smoke from the fire spiraled up through an opening in the roof. A modern table complete with two armchairs, a cloth covering, two place settings, and a small candelabra graced a corner of the hut, looking completely out of place amid the handmade baskets and stools scattered about the dirt floor.

The thing that snagged Anna's attention and held it, however, was the Indian woman with bra.s.s rings on every finger, including her thumbs, bra.s.s rings in her ears, and a string of ten-cent pieces hanging about her neck.

It was the same woman Joe had waved and winked at back when Anna had first arrived. She was the only one who wore the traditional Indian wraparound garment of woven cedar bark. She wasn't undersized like the rest of her tribe, but tall and striking, her dark brown hair falling about her shoulders in long, satiny freedom.

Joe placed his hand at Anna's waist. "Ukuk nayka kluchmen." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Anna, this is my friend and our host, Kitlu."

Anna curtsied. The unfamiliar words and guttural sounds rolling from Joe's tongue fascinated her. "What did you say?"

"That you were my woman."

She gave him a sharp glance.

He escorted her to the table and pulled out her chair. "Please, have a seat."

Looking at the other women in the hut, Kitlu brought her fists to her sides and then pushed them out. Activity amongst them increased threefold.

One girl dropped red-hot stones from the fire into a watertight basket holding soup of some kind. Another peeled back a mat, uncovering a steaming pit.

"Anna? Are you listening?"

She jerked her attention back to Joe. "I'm sorry. I was watching the women. What are they making? It smells wonderful."

He tucked his napkin into his collar. "Venison."

Her gaze wandered back to the fire pit, taking stock of all he'd done to prepare for the evening. It had taken no small amount of time, effort, and planning.

"The boat ride was wonderful, Joe. The lanterns were beautiful. And all this." She waved her hand to encompa.s.s the elaborately set table and the food being prepared. "I'm completely charmed."

Before he could respond, Kitlu served them each a bowl of soup in small handwoven baskets.

"Mersi," Joe said, then waited politely for Anna to take the first bite.

"What is it?" Dipping her spoon into the concoction, she tried it.

"Squirrel."

The liquid trickled down her throat, but the meat stayed in her mouth. Squirrel? Anna looked at the soup. She was eating a rodent?

Trying not to picture the varmint with its beady eyes and bushy tail, she chewed and swallowed.

In true lumberjack form, Joe had already eaten almost half of his. "Do you like it?"

He was trying so hard, she didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. "I've never had squirrel before."

"Never?" His expression registered shock.

"No."

"Well, what do you think?"

She shrugged. "I've only had one bite so far."

"You better eat up, then. The clams are almost done."

Sure enough, one of the women was scooping clams from a pit.

"I thought we were having venison."

"That's the main course."

Nodding, she took another bite, doing what her mother had taught her whenever she was eating something unpleasant.

Just put it in your mouth and say, "Mmm, mmm, mmm." That way you'll trick yourself into thinking it's good.

"How's Sprout?" he asked.

Mmm. Mmm. "You mean, Roy? He's coming along quite well. Doc said his young body is still making bone, so his leg will not only heal, but will in all likelihood be stronger than his other one."

"No limp?"

"No, thank goodness." Mmm. Mmm.

Joe sc.r.a.ped the edges of his bowl. "I need to talk with Doc and find out when I can bring the boy up to camp like I promised."

"What on earth would he be able to do?" Mmm. Mmm.

"I have a little wagon in the barn. When the fellows and I chop an undercut with our axes, Spr-Roy can fill his wagon with the chips that come flying out and take them to Ollie for the stove. Just the walk to and from the house will keep Roy busy for most of the day."

"Feels strange calling him Roy, doesn't it?" she asked.

"I still can't get over him picking my name. Bet that knocked Rountree's raker out of line." Chuckling, he nodded at her soup. "You going to finish that?"

"I'm afraid I'll fill up on it and not be able to enjoy the rest of the meal."

He extended his hand and she tried not to look too relieved as she pa.s.sed her basket-bowl to him. They caught up with each other's news during the subsequent courses.

Finally, the venison was served. It had been rolled in leaves and baked in a pit covered with hot stones.

"Good heavens," she said, taking her first bite. "This tastes nothing like beef."

"Do you like it?"

She closed her eyes in concentration. "Yes. It's different, but very good."

He asked her to finish telling him about her week. She regaled him with stories from the various surgeries Doc had performed, ending with Henry Yesler's. He'd almost sawed a finger off at his mill.

"I'd heard that. Is he all right?"

"Yes, but I must say he could stand to read a few books from your library."

"Why's that?"

"He has a rather limited vocabulary and uses the same words over and over, even when he's swearing." She clucked her tongue. "I'm telling you, the man's language is a fire hazard."

Joe threw back his head and laughed. The action involved his entire body-head, neck, shoulders, chest. Land sakes, but he was handsome.

Kitlu took their empty plates and replaced Anna's with a small box tied in white ribbon. The amus.e.m.e.nt slowly left his face. He looked from the box to her.

Her stomach tightened. "What's this?"

"Dessert."

The evening had been wonderful. She didn't want it to end. She definitely didn't want it to end on a poor note. But what could she say? That she was full and wanted to skip dessert?

"Go ahead," he said, his voice low. "Open it."

Taking the ends of the bow, she unraveled it and opened the box. "A wonder turner!"

She hadn't seen a child's thaumatrope in years. Leon used to have one with a picture of a drum on one side of the cardboard and a boy holding drumsticks on the other. When Leon twisted the strings attached to each end of the cardboard, the pictures spun, merging the images into a drummer playing his drum.

The cardboard in her box was about the size of a silver dollar and had a silhouette of a woman looking up. The opposite side held an image of a lumberjack looking down.

Grasping the strings on each side of the turner, she rapidly twisted them. The figures merged into one of a couple pa.s.sionately embracing.

"Will you marry me?" he whispered.

She continued to spin the thaumatrope. Faster, faster, until it blurred. Not because of the speed in which the cardboard rotated, but because of the tears filling her eyes.

A man did not go to the extent in which Joe had unless he was confident of the answer to his question. And she'd given him every reason to a.s.sume she'd answer affirmatively.

She quit twirling the toy. It slowly came to a stop. The couple was one no more.

Carefully tucking it back into the box, she closed the lid and retied the ribbon. "I'd very much like to marry you."

The only sound in the hut was that of their breathing. Kitlu and her women had all vacated the house.

"Then why are you crying?"

Every muscle in his body was coiled like a bear trap. What would happen when she triggered the spring?

She slid her hand across the table, palm up. He grasped it. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to relish the feel of his large hand, hard and knotty from hours of wielding an ax. Finally, she could put it off no longer.

"The doc says I have tuberculosis and if I don't move someplace dry like Kansas or Texas, I'll not survive." She squeezed his hand. "So, I'm afraid, love, that I'm not going to have the pleasure of marrying you, after all."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

Too many thoughts came at once, so Joe zeroed in on the one that scared him the most. "You have tuberculosis?"

"Evidently." Anna kept her chin up, though it quivered.

He slowly pulled the napkin from his collar. "I thought it was just a cough."

"So did I."

"What is the exact prognosis?"

"It's in the very early stages. I should live a long and healthy life, so long as I am someplace dry."

His relief was short-lived. She would be safe, but only if she left the Territory.

He shot to his feet, then paced. "I don't understand. This isn't making any sense. You were fine the whole time you were up at home with me."

"I know." A tear slipped down her cheek.