Winter Love Part 22

"Yes he will." Little Fox smiled and asked, "I don't suppose you have any cookies?"

Laura laughed softly. "Not today I don't, but I will make you some tomorrow." This morning before Spotted Horse had left with his bundle of furs, he told her that they were getting low on sugar. She had managed to keep amus.e.m.e.nt off her face. Spotted Horse liked her cookies as much as the boy did. Tomorrow she would spend much of the day making cookies. She wanted to leave a good supply for the old fellow when she left.

Little Fox leaned up on an elbow, wincing a bit. "Why have you left Fletch, Laura? He's not on the island, is he?"

"No, he's not on the island," Laura answered sharply. "And what do you mean why did I leave Fletch? It was Taylor I left."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Laura," Little Fox said quickly. "It's just that my father always refers to you as Fletch's woman."

"Your father shouldn't say that. It's not true."

"He will be surprised when I tell him. Usually he is right in all things. He is a very wise man." Little Fox laid his head back down on the pillow to ponder this rare happening.

A smile hovered around Laura's lips as she smoothed the sheet over the boy's back. When he murmured, "Thank you," she walked to the door and looked outside.

High in the blue sky an eagle soared on slowly flapping wings, ever ready to swoop down on a small, unwary prey. Laura remembered as a small child helping mother Marie be on the alert for eagles, which would grab up their baby chicks and fly away with them. How she would cry every time they lost a fluffy ball of yellow to one of the eagles.

I still miss mother Marie, Laura thought, leaning against the door frame. If she were alive today, everything would be different. She had been wise and would have known that her son was l.u.s.ting after her adopted daughter and would have put a stop to it before it was too late.

It's a little late to think of that now. Laura sighed and lowered her gaze to the lake at the sound of a fish leaping out of the water to catch a fly. She watched it arch its body, then drop back down, leaving ever widening ripples in the clear water.

"Maybe I'll just go catch you for our supper," Laura thought out loud.

Riding a yard or so behind Red Fox, Fletcher noted that his friend's broad shoulders were beginning to have a dejected droop. It had taken them two days to reach the island, arriving yesterday near dark. They had started out early this morning looking for Little Fox. Every few minutes they called the boy's name but received no response. Fletcher nudged the stallion into a lope, reaching Red Fox and riding alongside him. "We still have a big part of the island to cover. We'll run across him anytime now."

"I don't know, Fletch." Red Fox. shook his head. "I'm about to give up hope."

"Don't do that." Fletch smiled encouragingly as they approached a pile of large boulders, reaching a height of about nine feet. "Let's go check out that jumble of rock. It looks like a place a lad would choose to make camp."

They turned their mounts' heads in the direction Fletch had indicated, and on arriving, both swung to the ground and began searching for tracks. Almost immediately Red Fox spotted his son's moccasined footprints. His exultant "Aha" was cut short when he saw the large prints of a bear. "Now don't panic, Red Fox." Fletch fought to keep his own fear out of his voice. "The tracks could be days apart."

Then they spotted the b.l.o.o.d.y rocks, and a broken arrow shaft, clearly telling them what had happened. The boy had been set upon by a bear.

Red Fox's usually stoic features crumpled and his fists clenched. He had lost his firstborn, his only son, to an animal. He didn't even have a body to take home.

He turned his grief-stricken eyes to Fletch, who called out excitedly, "Come here and see what you can make of these tracks."

What Red Fox saw were the tracks of a horse that had been ridden up to a base of boulders, and prints of a man of small stature who had climbed to the ground and run to where bloodspotted rocks lay. The tracks of a dog ran alongside the booted prints.

Hope surged through the big Indian's blood when he saw the footprints return to where the man had left his horse. This time the footprints were deeper, as though made by a larger man, or a small one carrying an Indian lad.

"Come on, Red Fox." Fletcher squeezed his shoulder. "I think we're going to find your boy in just a short time. It will be easy to trace these hoofprints."

Red Fox stood up from examining the bloodstained rocks. "There's a cabin at the end of this island, but the teenagers are forbidden to use it while seeking their manhood. That's why I didn't go there right away. But from what these tracks tell me, someone has taken my son there."

In a few minutes they smelled the wood smoke before they saw it rising from the chimney of the small cabin sitting among the pines. "Someone is living there," Red Fox said and kicked his mount into a hard gallop. He was brought to a rearing halt in front of the cabin and his rider was off his back before his front hooves came back to the ground.

"Father?" Little Fox exclaimed when the light from the doorway was blocked by a pair of broad shoulders.

"My son!" Red Fox responded as with three big strides he was across the room and kneeling beside Little Fox's pallet. "Are you all right?" His eyes scanned the narrow back with the great bear marks on it.

"I am now, but I was gravely ill for a while."

"Who has been tending your wounds?"

"An old brave called Spotted Horse. He is very wise about roots, leaves, and bark."

"Yes, I can see that. Tell me now how you came to tangle with a bear."

Unnoticed by Red Fox, Laura stood at the window peeking out at Fletch climbing off Buckskin as Little Fox began his story.

She was shocked at how Fletch had aged. Had he been ill? she wondered as he stepped up on the small porch. There was gray in the hair at his temples, and his cheeks were almost gaunt.

"But he's still the handsomest man I've ever seen," she told herself as his tall frame darkened the doorway. When he stepped inside, she stiffened her features, hiding how happy she was to see him.

Fletch started walking toward father and son when a movement at his left caught his eye. He wheeled around, wariness in his eyes, coolly prepared for anything that might happen. His jaw dropped then and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Laura! What are you doing here?" He moved toward her.

Willing her pulse to settle down, Laura set her chin at a hostile tilt. "Not that it's any of your business, but I live here."

Fletch held her eyes a moment, then looked around the room. "Where is Jolie?"

Laura hesitated before answering, "She's gone with a friend to the post down the lake."

"Oh?" A steely glint appeared in Fletch's eyes. "Is this friend male or female?"

Laura delayed again before answering, "Male."

Fletch's lips drew into a tight line as he glared at Laura. She stared back at him, remembering how that hard, chiseled mouth could turn so gentle when he kissed her.

Her own lips tightened when he sneeringly asked, "A male who came with you from the village, or a new one you've met here?"

"Again it's none of your business," Laura flared indignantly, "but I'll tell you anyway. I met him here."

"d.a.m.n you, woman," Fletch grated. "Even here on an isolated island you manage to meet a man."

Laura gave an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. "I guess I'm like you in that respect. You always manage to find a woman." His eyes icy bleak, Fletch said, "I've never lived with any of them."

"I've never lived with any of my men friends either... until now."

"So you are living with him?" When Laura nodded, he asked after a moment, "Is this one special, then?" Laura thought for a moment before answering, "Yes, in his own way he is very special. He's kind and wise and Jolie adores him."

That last was too much for Fletcher. It was bad enough that this stranger had the woman he loved, there was no way in h.e.l.l he was going to have his daughter as well. Jolie would adore no man but her father. He reached for Laura, and she shrank away from the anger in his eyes.

Fletch dropped his hands when he saw the fear on Laura's face. But he didn't move away from her as he said through gritted teeth, "No man is going to take my daughter away from me. I'll kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d first."

Laura stared at Fletch in dazed astonishment. How in the world had he learned that he had fathered Jolie? He's bluffing, she decided, and demanded, "What gives you the idea that Jolie is your child? Wouldn't I have told you if she were?"

"No, you d.a.m.n well wouldn't. You're too d.a.m.n stubborn to do what would be normal. Even as a little girl, you could be wanting a drink of water but you were too mule-headed to let anyone but Ma give it to you."

"Well, it's not true that Jolie is your child."

"Yes, she is. I have proof of it."

"How? You never could prove it before, and she still has blond hair and blue eyes."

"So did my mother."

Laura dropped weakly into a chair. Her secret was out at last. "Why didn't you mention that fact before, instead of accusing me of being with Adam Beltran, then Hunter O'Hara?"

"Because I didn't know what my mother looked like until Pa told me. When Jolie grew older, he finally noticed the striking likeness to his first wife."

Laura looked up at Fletch, her chin in the air and rebellion in her eyes. "Now you know. So what?"

"So we're going back to Big Pine and get married."

After her gasp of surprise, Laura said loftily, "Impossible. You seem to forget that I'm already married."

"Not anymore, you're not. Pa had his and your marriage annulled. He's remarried now."

Shock hit Laura, leaving her stunned. "Please don't tell me he married that awful Martha Louden."

"Of course not," Fletch answered almost angrily. "He married b.u.t.terfly."

Laura drew a long breath of relief "Thank goodness. I was afraid he'd never get up the nerve to make b.u.t.terfly his wife, even though he wanted that more than anything in the world."

Fletch nodded. "That, and seeing you and me married and making a home for our daughter. How soon can you get ready to leave? When is your boyfriend supposed to get back with Jolie?"

"You have an overworking imagination if you think I'll go back to Big Pine," Laura flared out, "let alone marry you. I'd never tie myself to a skirt-chasing womanizer."

Laura thought for a moment that Fletch would strike her, his face looked so furious. He took a menacing step forward and stood over her. "Maybe you won't marry me, but you'll come back to Big Pine."

"Not on your life will I come back to that place." Laura glared up at him.

"You'll come if you want to see your daughter again. I'm taking Jolie back with me."

Laura was on her feet in an instant. "It will be the sorriest day in your life, Fletch Thomas, if you try."

"Why? What are you going to do about it?" Fletch sneered. "Are you going to sic your boyfriend on me? I'd love to take a few swings at him."

It had grown quiet over by the pallet as Fletch and Laura had their heated argument. Red Fox spoke now. "I would not like for you to hurt the man who saved my son's life, Fletch."

Fletch swung around and looked at the Indian, somewhat startled. In his mixed emotions of seeing Laura-surprise, joy, then black anger-he hadn't even noticed his friend kneeling beside his son.

He walked across the floor and hunkered down beside Red Fox. "So, Little Fox," he said as he studied the red claw marks on the dusky skin, "I see you've met up with a bear."

"Yes. A sow. I guess she had a cub nearby. I shot an arrow in her chest, but she just kept coming after me. I was sure happy when Brave came along and chased her away."

"So actually it was the dog who saved your life?"

"Not just him. I would have bled to death if Brave hadn't brought Laura to me. She got me here to the cabin, and it was Spotted Horse who stopped the bleeding and doctored me through my fever."

Fletch tried not to show his shock that Laura's new man friend was an Indian. It would not sit well with Red Fox if he thought that Fletch Thomas didn't like the idea of Laura loving a red man, that he didn't think the man was good enough for her. It wasn't that he felt that Laura was above living with one of Red Fox's race, it was that he felt she was too delicate for the harshness of Indian life.

"I guess we owe this fellow a lot." Fletch ruffled the black hair lying on the pillow and stood up, thinking that if the brave didn't try to stop him from taking Jolie away with him he wouldn't beat him into a pulp, even though the thought of the man touching Laura's body almost doubled him over.

When Fletch stamped out of the house without another look at Laura, she walked over to the pallet and knelt down beside it. "What do you think of your son fighting a bear?" She smiled at Red Fox.

"I think he was very foolish. He should have climbed a tree. We had only hoped that maybe he could bring down a small deer."

When Little Fox didn't make a response to his father's chastising, only lowered his lids, Red Fox said to Laura, "Why did you not tell Fletch that Spotted Horse is an old man? Did you perhaps want to make him jealous?"

Laura felt her face growing red. To make Fletch jealous was exactly why she failed to mention the old man's age, and Red Fox knew it. Her wish had worked to a degree. She hadn't expected, though, that Fletch would strike back at her by threatening to take Jolie away. Somehow she must take her daughter and slip away as soon as possible. She wished she knew how long Fletch planned on staying.

She looked over at Red Fox and said, "The old brave says that Little Fox cannot travel for a couple weeks. Do you agree?"

"I think maybe ten days," the father answered. "Will you be staying here until then?"

"Yes. I will relieve the old one of taking care of my son."

"I expect that Fletch will be staying on also."

Red Fox knew what she was fishing for and he slid her a look of dry amus.e.m.e.nt as he answered, "Who knows about my friend Fletch? He is like the wind that blows in March. Sometimes one way, sometimes the other. He may leave today, tomorrow, or maybe h.e.l.l stay and return with me and my son."

Laura realized she'd get no information from the Indian, so she asked, "Why didn't you tell Fletch that Spotted Horse is an old man?"

"My friend is hot-blooded, sometimes has a reckless tongue, and most things come too easy to him. Especially where women are concerned. It amuses me to watch him make a fool of himself Perhaps he will learn that anger always overrides reason."

A smile flickered in Red Fox's black eyes. "Laura Thomas, there's a lesson you could learn also. When you find your temper beginning to stir against Fletch, walk away from him. That will rile him more than anything you could say to him, and in the meantime you'll not have said words you wish you could recall."

"I don't wish to recall anything I said to Fletch Thomas." Laura sniffed. Rising, she walked away from Red Fox, her head held high. She walked out onto the porch, wondering where Fletch had gone.

Fletch had walked about half a mile from the cabin and was waiting for the man who was stealing his daughter's affections. He sat on the needle-strewn ground, his back propped against the trunk of a pine a few feet off the lake trail.

He idly picked up dead twigs and snapped them between his fingers, his mind on Laura. She hated him, and he couldn't blame her. Because of his stupidity she had had to suffer the village women's ostracism, overhear their demeaning remarks, witness their suspicious looks at Jolie's little blond head. It was all his fault that she had run here to this wild island to get away from the pain they were giving her. And he had been just as bad as the women, if not worse. He remembered his cruel taunts, his accusations, his sarcasm. He couldn't blame her if she never spoke to him again.

But, dear Lord, he wished that she would. He couldn't visualize a life without her, and one way or another she was going to be a part of it. She had cared enough for him once to give her virginity to him, and if only a small coal of that love still lived within her somewhere, he was going to fan it into flames again. If he had to steal Jolie away from her, so be it. He was desperate and would go to any lengths to get the woman he loved back to where she belonged. No way in h.e.l.l was he going to leave her to live with some young buck who wouldn't appreciate her.

Fletch was so immersed in his thoughts he gave a startled exclamation when Brave was suddenly standing before him, his hackles raised, deep growls issuing from his throat. "Here, boy." He held out his hand, palm up, to the dog that had never really accepted him.

He was relieved and somewhat surprised when the growling ceased and the hair on the thick neck lay down. "So you remember me," he said softly, slowly rising to his feet. When Brave flopped down on the ground, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted, Fletch slowly brushed the dirt and needles off his seat. He didn't trust the dog not to lunge at him if he made any sudden movements.

He stood waiting then. The Indian should be coming along anytime now.

Less than ten minutes had pa.s.sed when Fletch heard the clomping sound of horses' hooves. He stepped out onto the path, then swore to himself It was no young brave coming toward him, but an old Indian. But wait a minute. That was Laura's little mare, Beauty, the white-haired man was riding. How had he come to have the mount? Had he stolen it from the other Indian?

When horse and rider were almost upon him, Fletch raised his hand. Beauty was reined in and the old Indian looked at him with wary eyes. "What do you want of me, paleface?" He frowned fiercely.