The Alaska Brides Collection Part 33

Her lips softened. Braden jumped away and turned his back.

"I have enough."

Braden turned. "What?"

"I said, I have enough. Let us go home."

"Listen, Amy." Braden caught her arm. "I'm sorry. That...that shouldn't have happened."

Amy turned. "You are right. And it will not happen again. I do not let men...close to me like that, Braden. If you would have asked, the answer would have been no."

Temper sparked in his eyes. "That wasn't only me. You kissed me back."

Amy gave his hand clamped around her upper arm a hard look. "Are you finished?"

"Yes. The afternoon is waning." Braden looked at the sky. "The sun is going to set in, oh, about six hours, I'd say."

A tiny laugh escaped Amy's tingling lips, and she shook her head. Braden let go of her. He picked up the load she'd been gathering, and she filled the fur-lined bag she always carried, slung it over her shoulder, and filled her arms besides.

They went back toward the house together. As they neared the clearing, they saw Tucker stacking windfall branches. Meredith sat on the stump they'd used for chopping wood and sewed another shirt for Ian or one of the other men. She was keeping them all supplied with clothes.

"She is almost better, Braden."

"Just be patient, woman."

"I have been patient. More patient than any of you have a right to expect. I need to find out what happened to Papa." Amy turned and blocked the path in front of Braden. He stopped, or he'd have run over her. They faced each other with arms filled with bark and branches, leaves and roots. "Take me to my father's, or I will go alone."

Braden leaned forward until their noses almost touched, despite the load they both carried. "Fetching after your da's house is the way of a greedy woman. You have plenty here. Why do you need more?"

"I am not greedy, Braden Rafferty. This is not about that cabin. This is about justice."

"If it's not about greed, then it's about revenge."

"Justice is not revenge."

"You can't bring your father back. You can't live in that house alone. You can't even be sure someone attacked you."

"Again you call me a liar." The twigs Amy hugged to her chest snapped.

"Mistaken, not a liar. We've seen no one around. Ian, Tucker, and I are fair hands in the woods. But none of us is as good as you, are we, Amaruq Wolf Girl?"

"No, not a one of you is as good as me." She realized how boastful that sounded, and bragging wasn't what she intended. She'd merely spoken the truth.

"So, have you seen him?"

Amy raised up on her toes to shout at him before she truly thought about what he'd said. She dropped, flat-footed. "No. No, I have not seen him, nor any sign of him."

She blinked, trying to focus all her fears and finding doubts taking their place.

"Maybe that's because he doesn't exist." Braden arched one skeptical eyebrow. "Or maybe it's because some winter-crazed man like Rooster was pa.s.sing through and did something c.o.c.keyed for no reason other than 'cause he's a loon."

Amy knew it wasn't true. She remembered the laughter. She'd heard it in Seattle, hadn't she? What about the menace on the Northward that night Braden had left her alone? What about her fear as she stood too close to the railing? It couldn't all be her imagination. She had too much respect for her instincts for that. But she was tired of wasting her breath trying to convince Braden.

"Fine, if you want to explain away what happened on that cliff, you do so. But hear this, Braden Rafferty. I am going to my papa's cabin. I am going, and I am going soon. Merry is my friend, and I will care for her as long as she needs it."

"But no longer?" Braden's eyes narrowed and anger tinged color into his freckled cheeks. "You won't turn left nor right from your obsession with your father, even if it means betraying all of us when we took you in."

"Betraying you? You are betraying me with your doubts and insults. So no, I will not be swayed from my course."

"You're not goin' anywhere." Braden's cheeks were so crimson with anger Amy thought if she touched them her fingertips might sizzle.

"Am I a prisoner, then?"

"No, there are no door locks to keep you here. But if you go, you walk away from all of us."

"By whose order? Merry would let me return. I live in her home, not yours."

"You live with the Raffertys. Do you think Ian will keep you here if I tell him I want you to leave? Do you think he'll stand by while your recklessness frightens Merry, maybe enough to make her lose their child? You already made her walk a long distance to find us when you needed help. How many times will you do that before Ian says enough?"

Amy's heart sank. Braden's words reminded her that she was indeed the outsider here. She was alone in the world. And it was for just that reason that she had to find justice for her father. She had to find the truth.

Wait on the Lord.

No! she shouted in her heart. She'd waited long enough. Too long.

"So be it, Braden. When I go, I will go for good." She whirled away and charged across the opening surrounding the cabin. She went inside and shut the cabin door before Meredith or Tucker noticed they'd returned.

Braden stared at the closing door. He wanted to go in and shake her and hold her and kiss her and...and...

The ideas that came into his head shocked him, ideas of marrying Amy and having her fill up the empty places in his heart. He prayed for self-control.

Self-control. Lord, when did I start needing that?

Braden felt a weight crushing his chest as he realized Amy was in his heart. Amy was the one prompting his prayers for self-control. Amy was the one.

And she wanted to go on a long hike in the woods. Alone with him. Just the two of them. His heart beat faster as he thought of the long hours he'd spent with her this last month and how much he'd learned and how he loved seeing her in the sunlight and twilight and any other time of day.

He took a step toward the cabin and stopped. He couldn't do it.

It would betray Maggie. Wasn't failing one woman enough? The self-control he prayed for surged to life as he realized he was forgetting the wife of his heart. The woman he'd played with as a child, held hands with as a young man, killed as a husband. G.o.d wouldn't ask him to risk another woman.

Through the window, Braden saw Amy at work over the fireplace. Amy, caring for them day and night. A true friend to Meredith. So wise in the ways of Alaska that all their lives were better for her presence.

The aroma of mutton wafted out of the cabin. Braden saw Meredith turn her head toward the scent and lose all the color from her cheeks. Clamping her hand over her mouth, Meredith jumped up. She dashed for the underbrush near the cabin and disappeared.

Tucker exchanged glances with Braden to make sure they were both aware. Braden jerked his head toward the house. Tucker nodded, hefted his Winchester over his shoulder with a quick, fluid move, and started after his sister just as the sound of retching came from the bushes.

Braden set Amy's treasures outside the cabin door when he wanted to go inside and beg her to care more for him than for her missing father. Instead, he turned his hand to collecting firewood, staying within sight of the cabin.

Protecting her from afar to protect his own foolish heart.

Chapter 15.

B ut they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

Amy lay on her makeshift bed in the main room of Ian's cabin and read the pa.s.sage of Scripture by full daylight at ten-thirty at night.

Unhappy with the message, she set her Bible down gently, resisting the urge to clap the book shut. It seemed every Bible verse she read called her to wait.

"I have waited," she whispered into the empty room. "I have been here two months now, Lord. I believe You wanted me to stay and take care of Meredith, but the summer fades quickly. I must see what happened to my father. I cannot spend a winter in comfort with the Raffertys while my father's death goes unpunished. Make a way for me to go, Lord."

Amy almost stopped before she uttered the next words of her prayer. But the need to act drove her, and she spoke quietly into the silent room. "Or I will do it on my own. You gave me a life that taught me independence. I take care of myself. I work hard. I have the skills I need, and I believe You want me to act. You are a G.o.d of justice. You do not want an evil man to hurt my papa and pay no price."

Amy lifted her Bible again, this time more tenderly, and asked G.o.d to forgive her disrespect. The book fell open, and her eyes fell on Psalm 27:14. "Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD."

She recalled another verse, and for the first time applied it to herself. She knew what it meant when Moses had argued with Pharaoh to "let my people go" and the Bible said, "Pharaoh hardened his heart."

She knew because Amy hardened her own heart at that moment. She deliberately chose a path she feared G.o.d didn't bless. Meredith was feeling better. The summer was wearing itself down. She was through waiting on the Lord or anyone else, especially Braden Rafferty.

Instead of listening to the still, small voice that whispered on the wind, she made plans. Braden stayed with her nearly every minute. How could she slip away from him for long enough that he wouldn't just come after her and drag her home?

Amy sat up straight. Braden wasn't here right now. Yes, the nighttime, when she was in Ian's care, was the time to go. If someone lingered in the woods, that someone had proved to be a coward and wouldn't attack the house directly. So they'd come to expect Amy to go inside and stay. Anyone lingering in the woods wouldn't be on watch in the night.

If she slipped out as soon as the Raffertys went to bed, she'd reach her father's cabin before that horrible man got up in the morning. She'd find a hiding place, wait for him to leave, and then sneak in. She'd quickly find the deed and be halfway home before the Raffertys knew she was gone.

Why, she'd even leave a note so if she didn't get back before they woke, they'd know her entire plan. And she'd meet them a few miles down the river because they were sure to come after her.

The only flaw in her plan was the worry she might cause Meredith. That was the one thing Braden said that almost swayed her. Thinking of Meredith hiking to the mine twisted Amy's stomach. Meredith could have fallen. The baby could have been lost. Amy knew she'd have to hurry to minimize Meredith's concern. Maybe if she drove herself hard, she could be down and back before the Raffertys climbed out of bed.

Meredith wouldn't even have to cook breakfast. Amy would be home in time.

She looked out the window, considering setting off right now. But she wanted an earlier start. She'd make sure Meredith was feeling okay; then she'd go to see what had happened to her father.

Wait, I say, on the Lord.

Amy only heard the wind as she turned over and fell asleep.

Meredith's unruly stomach had a relapse. Amy, caring for Meredith and the rest of the family, fell into bed exhausted each night for the next week. Braden was as diligent as ever guarding her-so much so that his guarding felt less like protection than like a lookout for an escape attempt. It didn't matter. Amy wasn't about to abandon Meredith...yet.

Amy's heart twisted when she thought of the warmth that had pa.s.sed between her and Braden. It had vanished since their fight over her need to go home. Something had been lost between her and Braden. Or maybe not lost. Maybe for Braden it had never been there.

Early the next week, Meredith took a turn for the better, and Amy knew it was time to go. The first night Amy was able to stay awake long enough to hear Ian's soft snores, she tossed back the covers on her sleeping pallet and stood, fully dressed.

After tucking her knife into the sheath around her ankle, she smeared on a paste made from yarrow leaves to repel the mosquitoes. She eased the door open and closed, knowing Ian slept lightly. She stuck a note-one she'd had written for a week-on the outside of the front door.

Pulling on her walrus-gut boots, Amy strode toward the river, listening for any sound that didn't belong in an Alaskan wilderness. As she hurried along the water's edge, she startled a porcupine and her spring babies drinking from the river. The slap of leaping salmon called to her as if she needed to be fishing instead of being about her father's business. When the sh.o.r.e allowed it, she ran, racing against the coming morning and the Raffertys' worry.

In these early days of August, the sun settled into a brief dusk, but Amy's night vision was excellent. With the moon and stars shining off the river, she found her way easily.

The river chuckled over stones. The sound soothed her agitated spirit and made her sleepy, reminding her that she'd worked a long, hard day, caring for her family.

Her family? Were the Raffertys hers? Whatever she proved about her father, she still had no one left to call her own. Meredith was like a sister to her; Ian, a protective big brother. Tucker teased Amy just as he did Meredith. Braden...Amy could summon no sisterly feelings for him. She'd declared that when she left, she'd leave for good. But in her heart, Amy hoped desperately that they'd welcome her back. She wanted Papa, but she wanted to belong to the Raffertys, too. Especially Braden.

Amy turned her mind away from Braden and his strong arms and the kisses they'd shared. Picking up her pace, she tuned her senses sharply toward the forest and any danger lurking there. She rushed along, setting sights for home and justice, ignoring the quiet urging in her soul to wait.

Hours later, a mile upstream of her father's cabin, she slipped away from the water and hiked into the rugged woods. The land climbed sharply upward along the riverbank, and staying under cover was hard, slow work. Her mother and father had taught her to ease her way through the woods, like smoke drifting between heaven and earth. She took great care to be silent as she pulled herself along the steep incline, hanging onto shrubs along the side of the mountain.

When her father's cabin came into sight, Amy dropped behind a large stand of cottonwood trees. She rested her head against the tree, the bark rough on her cheek. She ran her hand lovingly over the wood and remembered learning very early how to tap the cottonwood to take just a bit of the sap and then eat it fresh. These trees were the equivalent of a candy store and held precious memories for her. She looked overhead and saw the first tinge of yellow in the fluttering leaves. Already summer was slipping away. To have waited longer to see to the man who had harmed her father would be madness.

Settling in, Amy let the nature that had fed and clothed her wrap itself around her like a cloak. She heard the sharp, high cry of a raven as it swooped and dived overhead. A high, majestic scream lifted her eyes to heaven, and she saw sunlight glint off the bald head of a soaring eagle. A rustle in the bushes nearby revealed a marmot making its way to the water's edge for an early morning drink.

There was no sign of activity in the cabin. But it was too early to believe the occupant had risen for the day. An hour slipped by as she waited, and then another. Amy thought of Meredith, awake now and worrying. Amy forced herself to wait when she couldn't bring herself to before. A sound out of place with nature pulled her eyes toward the cabin. Coughing. Riveting her eyes on the front door, Amy waited, her muscles coiled, her heart thudding.

She pictured the mantel her Tlingit grandfather had carved. It had been a gift to her parents on their wedding day. The mantel carving was an intricate design in perfect harmony with the world outside the door. Grandfather had loved working with wood, and Amy had been allowed to sit by his side and watch as the beautiful creations emerged under his patient, talented hands.

He'd made her a noisy rattle and figures of animals and fish. But the mantel had been her favorite. Many endless winter days, she'd lazed in front of the fire, making up stories about the animals etched into the alder wood. She'd loved the sun and the moon. The river Grandfather carved along the bottom seemed to move when firelight flickered in the fireplace below. And the crackle of the flames pa.s.sed for babbling water. Salmon were suspended, eternally leaping out of the stream, and some days Amy could almost hear them splash as they hit the water.

But most important right now was a thin drawer, its edges hidden by Grandfather's intricate carving. The drawer held the few family possessions that mattered. The deed had been ignored for the most part. Amy's father had enjoyed telling the story of the old trapper who had, with grand ceremony, presented the deed when he gave the cabin away and headed south to live out his old age with his brother.

Petrov Simonovich had never considered himself the owner of this land, so he wouldn't sell it. But if someone persuaded him to give away the cabin, he'd sign over the deed with the same pomp as the man who had handed it to him. Amy knew how to touch the carved raven and stretch her fingers wide to touch the sun, then press in on the drawer to pop it open. The deed to the property would be there.

Another cough sounded from the cabin, and Amy hunkered down a bit more. Smoke appeared in the chimney, and the smell of salmon cooking teased her nose and reminded her she hadn't eaten for hours. At last the cabin door swung open, and the man who'd driven her away from her home stepped out.

He carried a pickax over his shoulder and a shovel hanging from a pack on his back. Amy saw the man tuck a chunk of jerky into his pocket and close the door. A gust of wind carried his foul smell to Amy where she crouched twenty feet away. The man walked heavily, feet plodding along unevenly. Amy was almost certain that shuffling gait couldn't belong to the man who had pushed her off the cliff. She clenched her jaw, wondering if she'd created this whole threat out of her own fears.

He went around the side of the cabin, ragged clothes swinging their tatters in the wind. Amy remembered a game trail that led from the cabin up toward the mountaintop. He must follow it to some mine he'd found.

With a sigh of relief, Amy knew she'd have the cabin to herself. That didn't mean she'd linger. She'd grab the deed and go home. The man wouldn't even know she'd been there. Then she'd present the deed to that stubborn Braden as proof her father had met with foul play.

As Amy stood, she wondered if Braden, Ian, and Tucker would act when presented with evidence. Why had she come? Why had she ignored the urging to wait?

G.o.d, what good will it do to know my father did not sell the cabin?

The only answer she got-wait on the Lord-was one she refused to heed.

The miner's lumbering footsteps diminished on the path. She remembered cruel hands on her back. Saw the yawning emptiness in front of her as she hurled over the mountain's edge.

And she felt hands on her back on the Northward as she stood by the boat railing. Hands on her back on a busy Seattle street corner. She remembered those stealthy footfalls...o...b..ard the ship when she sat alone on the deck. Braden couldn't explain those three things away by attributing it to some person driven mad by the long, black winter. No, someone had come after her, possibly four times. She had no reason to believe he'd stop now. This had to be dealt with.

The man's footsteps faded completely. Amy squared her shoulders and ignored the internal warning that seemed to ring louder than ever. Why would G.o.d ask her to wait now? Why, when she was so close and the danger so minimal? She hurried toward the cabin.