The Alaska Brides Collection Part 42

She'd also stayed awake despite the fact that he doubted she'd had much sleep. Much as he hated to slow down their trip home, he probably ought not walk her so fast. When he adjusted his pace, Fiona looked relieved but held her tongue.

They walked along in silence until Fiona spoke in a wistful voice. "Do you ever get used to how beautiful it is here? Look at the mountains over there."

Tucker nearly stumbled when he followed her directive, so for the next hour he ignored her completely. Finally, the growling in his stomach could no longer be ignored, so he hauled the umiak onto sh.o.r.e and retrieved the food Doc had insisted on sending.

They ate in silence, more due to Tucker previously ignoring Fiona's chatter than anything else. The girl was smart. It didn't take her long to figure out he wasn't going to be much of a talker on this trip.

The sun felt warm on his shoulders as Tucker eased back against the rock, his stomach full and his eyes heavy. When he opened them again, he was alone.

He didn't panic until he heard the scream. Women often overreacted in his estimation. Like as not, the source of her upset was a harmless bug or some other such thing.

He waited a moment. "Fiona?" he finally called.

No answer. Then came, "Mr. Smith!" in the form of a second scream.

Tucker scrambled to his feet and bolted off the rock. The sound came from the south, the opposite direction from the river. What in the world was Fiona doing heading off in that direction?

"Fiona, are you all right?"

No answer.

She screamed his name a third time. A second of silence followed.

Tucker found her teetering on the edge of a rock just beyond his reach. She seemed, on first glance, to be completely fine.

"Fiona, that's not funny. Come down right now before I come to my senses and get mad."

She neither moved nor spoke. Rather, she edged a bit to the left then froze. "I-I can't," she finally said.

He moved a few steps closer. "You can't what? Come down? That's ridiculous."

"No," came out more like a squeak than a word. "I'm stuck."

"You're what?"

She tried to look over her shoulder but teetered and lost her balance. Tucker was there in an instant, catching her just in time.

She landed with a thud against his chest, and he held tight to her. The only calamity was her hat, which fell into the dirt at his feet. Tucker took a step to balance himself, and unfortunately, one boot landed on the thing.

At least he'd saved Fiona. She could buy another hat.

As he looked down at the woman in his arms, two emotions. .h.i.t him hard. First, he felt like laughing. Then, much to his surprise, he felt like shaking her for the fright she'd given him. He set her on her feet and moved off the silly hat, then took two steps back.

"Thank you," she said, a.s.suming her regal bearing once more.

Stifling a smile, Tucker asked the obvious question. "Miss Rafferty, how did you come to be standing on that ledge?"

"I thought to reach that secluded spot."

Tucker looked up in the direction where she pointed and saw the stand of trees. "Why did you want to get up there?"

To Tucker's surprise, the redhead's cheeks flamed to match her hair. "That's rather private, and I'd prefer not to say."

Fiona spied her hat and retrieved it, then studied the bent feather. Knocking the dirt off it made the thing wearable, but the feather would never be the same. Still, the contrary woman set the atrocity atop her head and turned on her heels.

"In the future," he said to her retreating back, "you might want to think twice about wandering off. This time the only danger was falling, but there could be any number of hungry wild animals out there."

"I doubt that, Mr. Smith. If such a danger existed, I'm sure a competent guide such as yourself would have warned me before we set off."

She had him there. He decided to try another tack. "Miss Rafferty, I have to ask. Why didn't you just climb down? Was it those prissy shoes you're wearing?"

"Prissy shoes?" Her shoulders shrugged, but she did not slow down. "I'll have you know these shoes were chosen specifically because they are not only serviceable but also quite attractive and fashionable."

"Well, now, they might be all that, but they are also a menace. Still, if you say they didn't keep you from climbing down, I'll have to believe you."

She picked up her pace. The bent feather bobbed faster. "Yes, I suppose you will," she said. "Now can we change the subject?"

"I'm agreeable to that," Tucker said, "except that my original question still hasn't been answered. Why didn't you just climb down instead of hollering your fool head off and then nearly falling to your death?"

"To my death? My, how you do exaggerate, Mr. Smith."

She sounded a bit out of breath, most likely from the speed she'd chosen to walk. It seemed like the madder he made her, the faster she walked. At this rate, they'd be back to the cabin in record time. He watched the crooked feather on her hat bob up and down and gave thanks for that.

Far be it from him to slow her down, so Tucker decided to give her more reason to race ahead. "So, one more time I'll ask. Why didn't you climb down, Miss Rafferty? And this time, no nonsense. Just give me the plain truth. I promise not to laugh."

Fiona stopped abruptly and whirled around. Tucker nearly slammed into her. "You want the plain truth?"

Tucker looked down into eyes that sparked with anger, and all he could think of was how the freckles on her nose matched the color of her hair just right. He'd have kept staring indefinitely if she hadn't stabbed his shoulder with her forefinger.

"The truth is-" She paused to look away. Without warning, she swung her gaze back to collide with his. "Because I didn't know I was afraid of heights until I got up there. Are you happy now?"

He wanted to laugh, but the look on Fiona's face warned him against it. Instead, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He'd learned in his dealings with Meredith that some questions were best left unasked, especially in regard to the peculiarities of women.

"Yes, I suppose I'm happy as can be, considering the circ.u.mstances and the company."

Fiona made a sound of disgust and picked up her skirts, heading toward level ground at a fast clip. As he watched her pick her way across the rocky terrain, Tucker thought of the contents of the package in the umiak.

Perhaps now was the time to get her situated in something sensible, something she wouldn't break her neck wearing.

The moment the thought occurred, Tucker saw Fiona's expensive footwear catch between two stones. She pitched forward and began to stumble, then caught a branch just in time.

With an I-told-you-I-could-take-care-of-myself look, Fiona stared up at him. "I'm fine."

The branch broke. Fiona Rafferty tumbled into the water.

When Fiona hit the water, all the air went out of her lungs. She sputtered and clutched at the icy liquid until she felt something solid.

As her head came above water, she saw the thing she'd grasped on to was the broken tree branch. At the other end of it crouched Tucker Smith.

"This branch is old and nearly dried out, so I'm going to have to be real careful pulling you in with it. If we get to going too fast, it'll break. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." The feather from her hat clung to her face, and she swiped at it, sending the hat flying.

"Don't you dare try and fetch that thing, Miss Rafferty. It's not worth drowning for."

"Under the circ.u.mstances," she said as she watched her prized traveling hat float downstream with the current, "perhaps you should call me Fiona."

"Fiona, it is, and I'm Tucker," he said. "Now listen carefully. The longer you're in that water, the less likely you are to think straight. That water's still cold. Now, tell me if you can still hang on while I finish pulling you in."

All she could do was nod and wrap her fingers tighter around the rough bark. She looked toward the umiak sitting on the bank. "What about the boat? Can't you get in it and come after me?"

"To do that, I'd have to let go of the stick. You want me to do that?"

She thought a minute. "I guess not, but do you have a better idea?"

"While I pull, I'd be much obliged if you'd start to praying. The Good Book says the Lord pays particular attention when two or more are praying the same thing." He gave the branch a gentle tug. "Oh, and if you were of a mind to, you might pray I don't fall in after you. Between us, we've only got one set of dry clothes."

Fiona did her best to pray and hold tight to the branch, but the harder she tried at both, the more difficult they became. Finally, she closed her eyes and let the waves lap against her as she rested her chin on the branch. The current swirled, causing Fiona's skirts to tangle around her ankles and making it nearly impossible to kick her legs.

Now her only lifeline was the broken tree limb. Without warning, it snapped.

Fiona's feet slammed against the river bottom, and she jerked to attention. Pushing off, she lunged toward the bank. Tucker hauled her onto dry land. Immediately, her teeth began to chatter.

"Fashionable and attractive indeed," Tucker said as he pulled the offending shoe off her foot and tossed it toward the middle of the stream. A second later, the other shoe suffered a similar fate.

Before Fiona could protest, Tucker hauled her onto her feet and handed her a wrapped package. She wanted to ask what it was, but her mouth refused to form the words.

Tucker turned her away from him and pointed to a stand of trees. "Go on, now, and get dry. You have my word as a gentleman that I won't turn around or open my eyes until you tell me to."

While she watched, he turned his back to her and climbed into the umiak to sit. Fiona clutched the package to her chest and tried to decide what to do. It didn't take long to realize that although it was summertime, wearing wet clothing in Alaska was foolhardy at best.

Fiona slipped deep into the stand of trees and, as quickly as she could, exchanged her dress for a blue wool shirt that dipped past her knees and a pair of denim pants with legs much too long for her. The only item in the package that came close to fitting was a pair of fur-covered boots.

She walked out of the foliage with one hand on the overlarge trousers and the other clutching her dripping clothes. Tucker still sat inside the umiak with his back to her.

"Is that you, Fiona?"

"Don't you say one word, Tucker Smith. Not one."

True to his word, Tucker didn't move, even when Fiona tossed the bundle of wet clothing into the boat. As Fiona came around to face him, she saw his eyes were closed. He did, however, seem to be having difficulty keeping a straight face.

With what little pride she could muster, Fiona stepped into the boat and sat next to Tucker. "Can we go home now?"

"I'll need to open my eyes."

"Not one word." Fiona released a long breath. "And no laughing."

Tucker opened his eyes then shut them again. When he didn't move, Fiona poked his arm.

"What are you doing?"

He cut her a sideways glance. "Trying to remember if I made a promise about not laughing."

The trip back to the cabin consisted of Fiona riding and Tucker holding the rope. Neither said a word.

When Fiona walked into the cabin, all conversation stopped. Meredith sat beside Amy, who held baby Douglas in her lap. Fiona left her wet clothing on the doorstep and brushed past them to step into the other room.

"Are those new boots?" Meredith asked.

"They're very nice," Amy added. "Aren't they, Douglas?"

The baby grinned and made a cooing sound.

"It's the rest of the outfit I'm a bit confused about." Meredith leaned forward. "Did Tucker help you pick it out, by any chance? I could have warned you the man has no concept of fashion."

Fiona stuck her head out of the door. "Hush, both of you," she said before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Chapter 7.

Three days later, when Tucker hadn't come around the cabin, Fiona went to him. She heard him rather than saw him, the sound of the pickax keeping time with a remarkably good version of "Rock of Ages."

She'd tucked the clothes she borrowed under her arm, along with the odd, fur-covered boots. As an added thanks, she'd wrapped one of Meredith's oatmeal cookies and placed it along with Tucker's lunch in the pail.

Rather than interrupt him, Fiona waited until he got to the chorus and began to sing along. Soon the baritone stopped, and she was left to sing soprano alone.

"I brought your clothes back. Oh, and since you've been avoiding Merry's cabin, she sent lunch," she said when he emerged from the tunnel.

She waited for a response and was rewarded with a combination of silence and an irritated glare. Evidently, the man had forgotten his manners somewhere between Goose Chase and the mine.

"And I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

Tucker let the pick drop and ma.s.saged the back of his neck. "Which time?"

He wore a blue shirt nearly identical to the one she'd washed, and he'd left it unb.u.t.toned to reveal a pristine undershirt over dirt-covered trousers. A streak of black mud decorated his right cheek, and it was all Fiona could do to keep from walking over and wiping it off with the corner of her ap.r.o.n.

Fiona set the clothing on a tree stump then situated the boots on top. "Fair enough." She took a step back and studied her ragged nails. "I was wondering something."

Tucker exhaled loud enough to be heard across the distance between them. His stance told her she'd interrupted something important; the facts stated the opposite. After all, it was near to lunchtime, and the gold he hunted sure wasn't going anywhere.

She almost said just that, but she needed his cooperation. "You're leaving to go with the Harriman Expedition, right?"