Chapter 25
Unwilling to take any chances with this hunt, Lance opted for his rifle instead of his usual crossbow. He pulled on a coat and trooped out into the snow. As he made his way to the clearing he watched the snow-covered ground for tracks, but the flakes were coming down with ferocity now and would cover any traces of his prey. Thick snow hung heavy from drooping branches and a wet chill permeated the air. The sky was gray as lead.
Lance took up a position behind a fallen log with a clear view of the area where he’d left the organs from his goat. The organs themselves were buried under the snow. He hoped this wasn’t an exercise in futility, but something sparked inside him. Anticipation, a knowing of sorts that he couldn’t name. As he waited, he wondered about Brooklyn, hoped she wouldn’t wake up frightened to be alone. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? She’d probably be relieved to find him gone.
Thoughts of Ellen had been plaguing him since he had found the woman. Not at all because Brooklyn reminded him of Ellen. No, they couldn’t be more physically different from each other. It was just the nearness of a woman again. A woman who was not well. A woman in close proximity, relying on him, needing his care. Whether she wanted it or not was another matter.
He always tried to repress memories of Ellen. His grief had not been as intense since coming to the mountain. It had been muted, pushed far into the background. Now, with Brooklyn’s presence, the images kept flooding back over the dam of resistance he had so carefully built. Ellen’s dark eyes flashing at him over some joke. Ellen’s feet in sandals, with her crooked little toe and silly purple nail polish. Ellen tossing their nephews into the water at the lake, their squeals of joy breaking her face into a wide smile. And then again, Ellen, weak, frail, and unresponsive under white sheets.
Lance shoved aside these painful thoughts and focused on the clearing in front of him. Low and slinky, the cat made her wary approach, head turning side to side. He moved his eye to the sight and took a bead on her head.
The shot split the air with a loud crack and the cat dropped. Lance stood slowly and watched it for a few minutes. Normally he would skin the animal, but today he wanted to get back to his cabin. That desire combined with his disgust for the cat’s destruction of his goat prompted Lance to do something out of character. He left the dead cat for the scavengers.
Chapter 26
Brook tiptoed down the aisle, shelves of dusty books on either side of her. The rows were long, and telescoped off into the distance. She looked to her side and through a gap in the books realized she could see into the next aisle. She must be very quiet. Two men were talking, their movements furtive, their voices hushed. One of the men shifted and turned toward her. It was Clark! She started to call to him, but something silenced her, some impulse. It was important for her to remain unseen. The other man looked up at Clark and with a gasp, she recognized Benny. Clark handed something to Benny, something small. Benny held it up to the light before pocketing it. It was a key. She backed away, inadvertently knocking several books off the shelf.
Both men turned to peer at her through the gap in the books.
“Brook, honey!” Clark said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were shopping.”
“That’s your wife?” Benny asked, an expression of exaggerated surprise on his face. “Then how come she’s not wearing a wedding ring?”
Brook turned to run, but her legs wouldn’t work.
“My rings!” Brooke mumbled.
Lance looked over at her from his chair by the fireplace. He had been working on something small, metal. It gleamed a little in the firelight. Laying the object on the end table, Lance rose and approached the bed.
“What?” he asked.
“It was a dream,” she answered, her head clearing. How many hours had she slept? She felt disoriented.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“I can’t remember.” She frowned. “But it was important. I wish I could remember.”
“Just relax and maybe it will come back to you,” Lance suggested, standing awkwardly beside the bed. “I think you said something about a ring, if that helps.”
“My rings. My wedding rings are gone,” she stated sadly.
“I didn’t take them, Brooklyn,” Lance said.
“I know you didn’t. They did.”
“Who?” His eyebrows were raised.
“Jase. Those men. The ones who had me.” She rolled over, turning her back on him.
“I’m sorry, Brooklyn. Is there anything I can do?”
“I just want to sleep.” Her voice was muffled. Lance stood for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other, not knowing what to do. Her breathing became regular and he realized she had dozed off again.
So, she’s married.
Why did he feel disappointed? It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter less. He returned to his work.
Several times throughout the day, he roused her enough that she could take water or broth. She never seemed fully awake during these times, and fell almost immediately back to sleep. Before Lance went to bed that night, he carried her to the bathroom. She woke up enough at that point to take care of business, swallow a couple of aspirin, and drink a little juice with some broth. It was the longest she was able to stay awake thus far.
“You hungry?” Lance’s voice brought her fully awake.
Brook sat up, her muscles aching only slightly this time. The shutters were partly open and daylight showed through the frosty windows. She must have slept through the night.
“Starved!” she stated emphatically. “But, first I need the restroom.” She checked for her purse and found it tucked under the blankets. Relieved, she swung her feet slowly over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Pain screamed up her legs and she fell back onto the mattress. “Owwwww!”
“Let me help.” Lance picked her up easily and left her in the restroom until she called. Then he sat her at a rough-hewn table. He moved to the stove and ladled up a small bowl of stew. After carrying it to the table, he took the chair across from her.
“This smells heavenly,” Brook said. “What is it?”
We'll just act like this is normal. I'll pretend I'm not sitting at the table with a murderer, and he can pretend I didn't see him with the body of his victim.
The experience was surreal.
“Rabbit stew,” he stated. Then remembering her reluctance about the broth, he added, “Just rabbit, carrots, potatoes, broth, salt, and pepper. Plain old rabbit stew.” He buttered a slice of bread and placed it on a small plate in front of her, then leaned back to watch her surreptitiously as she ate.
She took a small bite, testing it. “Mmm. It’s really good.” She took another bite, chewed, swallowed, and then dug in with real gusto. He was relieved to see her improving and liked watching her eat. He thought he would probably never again see anyone enjoy his cooking this much.
“What time is it?” she asked, and then realized she didn’t even know what day it was, much less the hour.
“Close to noon,” he answered. “Your third day here.”
Brook stared, aghast. “Three days? I’ve been here three days?”
“Actually more like two and a half, but yeah.” Lance smiled. “You’ve been sleeping a lot.”
She considered this for a few silent moments and then stored the information for later reflection. She returned to eating, seemingly unaware of him for a few minutes. After she swiped the last of her stew out of the bowl with her bread, she looked up at him. “Can I have some more?”
“I don’t think so,” Lance said simply. And then, when he saw her disappointed expression, “You probably should go slowly to begin with. Let that settle and then you can have more. I’ve given you some pretty strong tranquilizers, and with all you seem to have been through, I’m afraid your stomach might not be too willing to hold too much.”
Right on cue, Brook’s stomach protested, rumbling deep in her belly. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “Maybe I’ll lay back down and let things settle.”
Lance walked over and straightened the blankets before carrying her back to the bed. “Would you like some green tea with mint? It should help your stomach.”
“Yes, please,” Brook gave him a small smile and Lance saw the hint of a pretty woman behind the swollen and bruised face. He brought the tea and Brook sipped at it, savoring the hot sweet flavor. For the first time, she took some note of her surroundings. The small bed had been placed in front of a massive built-in fireplace. Crackling sounds, flickering light, and warmth came from its deep recess. A box of wood sat to one side and two chairs were positioned before it, turned toward its great stone face. Facing the other direction, Brook noticed a soft light radiating from somewhere above her head and looked up to see a snow covered skylight. Bringing her gaze down she saw shelves filled with books.
“I need to go out for a while,” Lance began, distracting her.
“You can go out?” Brook interrupted. “Does that mean you can take me to a town?”
“No,” Lance said slowly. “That’s impossible. Since yesterday another six inches of snow has fallen. I wouldn’t be going out at all if I didn’t have to.”
He cleared away the dishes and placed them in an enamel pan on the counter to wash later. He then put a lid on the heavy stew pot and placed it into his cold storage pantry.
“This is my homemade refrigerator,” he explained as he worked. “It uses the cold weather outside to keep my food from spoiling.”
She completely ignored this statement and returned to the subject of his leaving. “How long will you be gone?” Brook surprised herself by asking. She struggled with conflicting feelings. Oddly, a part of her wanted to cling to this man who happened to be the first person to show her any kindness in days. At the same time, a more powerful part of her shied away from him and wanted him gone. She reminded herself that even killers could be nice sometimes.
“Just a little while. First, let me help you to the restroom again,” Lance said, interrupting her thoughts.
“I don’t need to go,” Brook argued.
“Well, you’re going to go,” Lance stated firmly. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be out so you better take advantage of me while you can.” He smiled to show he was only partly joking. She wondered if he was hinting at something dark.
Take advantage of him.
She shivered. It seemed obvious now why he was being so kind to her. He was saving her for later.
After Brook had been returned to the bed, Lance stoked the stove and fireplace, put on his coat, and left the cabin.
Chapter 27
Brook waited a good twenty minutes before slipping out of bed. She moved ponderously towards the door, gaining speed even though it hurt to walk.
I have to get out of here. I have to get help
. She threw open the door and took six or seven steps off the small porch before the cold penetrated the soft clean socks, sending waves of pain through her damaged feet.
Snow! She had just plowed through a drift at least a foot-and-a-half deep. And so cold! Frigid air pierced the clothes in which the man had dressed her. She stared wildly around, noting a few small white-topped outbuildings huddling incongruously among the trees. Where was that man? What was his name? Lance? Could he see her? Was he watching her from behind a tree or building?
Brook fell to her knees and crawled back inside the cabin. She slammed the door and brushed the snow from her feet. Pulling off the wet socks, she threw them in the corner. Crying hysterically, she crawled to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. She dried her feet and brushed the snow away from her clothing.
Oh my god! He’s right. I can’t leave.
She was stuck here. And God help her, she had no idea what his intentions were.
After a while, Brook pulled herself to her sore feet and looked into the mirror.
Lord! What a sight.
Her face was bruised and cut, she had a knot on her forehead, one eye was swollen nearly shut, her lip was split, and her hair was a disaster. She opened the hand-carved wooden cabinet and found a bottle of shampoo and a comb. She filled the basin with water. Bending over the sink she laboriously managed to wash and rinse her hair in the icy water from the hand pump. It wasn’t completely clean but it was much better. She washed her face, working carefully over the scraped area, around the lump, and gingerly along the slit of her eye. She carefully dabbed her lip, trying not to open up the wound.
In a cupboard on the other wall, Brook found an unopened package of toothbrushes. She helped herself to one, spread some paste from the tube near the sink, and brushed her teeth thoroughly several times. The fresh mint flavor tasted so clean she almost wanted to swallow it. She put the toothbrush into the holder beside the one that was already there.
Exhausted, Brook took the comb back to the bed and sat heavily. She spent some time working through the tangles before falling back onto the pillow, clutching her purse like a child with a favorite stuffed animal, and succumbing to sleep once more.
Chapter 28
Lance was glad to find Brooklyn sleeping peacefully when he entered the cabin. She had one arm flung over her eyes and the other clutched her purse. He felt a small tug on his heart at the sight. It did not escape his attention that she had done something with her hair, which he took for a good sign.
He had gone out to take care of the animals. Gilbert had wanted out in the worst way, but Lance was unwilling to chance it, even though he had killed the cat. “Sorry, girl,” he had told her as she gave him one of her Gilbert hugs. “Just hang loose a little longer and things will get back to normal.” Then, he had ranged further from home, checking his traps before returning.
Brook stirred from her slumber and he turned to meet her gaze. She said nothing, but watched him from one good eye and one that was starting to open. She covered her purse with the blanket, tucked it around the edges, and then reached up and touched her hair self-consciously.
Shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on a peg, Lance noticed the socks in the corner. He picked them up and felt their wet condition. Shaking his head, he laid them on the hearth in front of the fire to dry out.
“Decided to go for a little stroll, did we?” he asked Brook while suppressing a grin.
Brook froze.
“I’m starting to get the idea you don’t enjoy my company.” He glanced over at Brook and his smile fell when she burst into unexpected tears.
“I have to get out of here,” she wailed. “And I can’t. I don’t know where I am and I don’t know what to do. I need to let everyone know I’m alive. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t. And you were gone so long! And I didn’t know where you went.”
Now, why did I say that?
She slapped her hands over her sore mouth and flinched.
In three long steps, Lance was at her side, wanting only to comfort her.
“Don’t touch me.” She inched back in the bed, still crying softly. He stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he walked over to the table, putting some distance between them. “I was only teasing about you not enjoying my company. It was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Brook grew calmer and her tears subsided.
In a steady voice, Lance explained, “I know it might seem like I’m keeping you here against your will. And, I know I’ve left you alone some. But, as you probably saw when you went outside, you can’t leave. And, I have chores to do, eggs to gather, animals to feed.” He paused, letting some of this sink in. “But mainly, I had to get the cougar that killed Belinda.”
“Belinda?”
“One of my goats. Do you remember when you saw me in the clearing that first day?” He waited while Brook sorted out the memory. “Well, I had just found her remains. That's one of reasons I had to be gone. I had to find that lion before it got Gilbert, or even the wild goats, as far as that goes.”
“It was a goat you were holding?” Brook asked, stunned. “A goat?”
“Right,” Lance replied. “Why? What did you think it was?”
“Oh, lord,” Brook pressed her hands to her cheeks and stared at Lance as relief washed over her. “I thought it was a person. I thought you had just killed someone. I've been so afraid of you!”
“A person?” Lance absorbed this information and thought back over their short time together. “Well, that explains a lot. I just figured you were scared because of, well, you know…all you’ve been through. I know you’ve been…” He paused to find an innocuous word, a word that wouldn’t, in itself, carry too harsh a blow. He finally settled on one. “Mistreated.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Brook’s throat tightened as tears threatened once more.
Maybe not now
, he thought,
but someday you will. When you’re ready
.
“If you ever do, I’m a good listener,” he said. She ducked her head, looking down at her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.
Well
,
I really blew that,
Lance scolded himself privately. He felt inept, having no idea how to handle a woman who had been brutalized. He was probably saying and doing all the wrong things.
“I feel dirty.” Brook finally mumbled.
“Dirty?” Lance was surprised at first, and then simply nodded. “That’s probably a normal reaction. I don’t know; I’ve never been through what you have, or for that matter, known anyone who has. But I know it must’ve been awful for you.”
“Please.” Brook looked up at him, eyes full of misery. “Can we change the subject?”
“Sure.” He took a deep breath, walked to the window, and opened the shutters wide, brightening the room. The pane was framed in delicate patterns of frost. Touching the cold glass with a finger, he stalled to allow her time to compose herself. He had questions, lots of them. He would like to know who hurt her and how she ended up on his mountain. But he wouldn't press her right now. He moved the conversation back to Belinda, a less volatile subject, or so he thought. Turning to face Brook, he put his hands in his pockets.
“Although I hated to do it, one of the things I had to take care of was to retrieve Belinda’s carcass. The meat will help increase my larder. With two of us here now, I’ll be hard pressed to have enough food for the winter. The meat I got from Belinda will really help.”
“Do you have to call her by name?” Brook shivered. “It makes me feel strange, like you plan on eating a friend or something. It's….disturbing. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”
“Okay,” he said patiently, puzzled by her reaction. “But, she
was
livestock, you know.”
Maybe I’ve been on my own for so long, I’ve forgotten how people relate.
“I know. It’s hard to explain,” Brook murmured. “It just bothers me. It probably wouldn’t seem so bad if her name had been Goat 1, or Goat 2.” She smiled a feeble smile.
Lance contemplated Brook. “Well, thank god it wasn’t Goat 1,” he said, giving Brook a sly wink. "It would have broken my heart in a million pieces. Gilbert’s become so much of a pet, she’s almost family. Belinda, on the other hand, was crotchety and odd. I never did get attached to her. I’d be weeping like a small child if it had been Gilbert. I love that damn goat so much!”
“Gilbert is a girl?”
“Yes, she’s a doe,” Lance said with a smile. “But she looks so much like this guy I knew in high school, I had to name her after him. He had very unique teeth, large and white.”
Brook didn’t return the smile like Lance expected. He thought he must be losing his touch.
“So, you got the cougar?” Brook changed the subject.
“Yes. I didn’t know if she’d come back to her kill, since I left my scent all over the place. But, she did come back. And I got her. A lion in heat has the most haunting scream. It’ll make your hair stand on end.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. I think I may have heard that scream,” Brook said slowly. “While I was lost. But, I thought it was something else.”
“Like maybe a woman?” Lance asked with a good-natured smirk, thinking about how she had thought he was holding a woman.
“I thought they killed Gina,” Brook murmured.
“Gina? Is there someone else out there I should be looking for?” Lance’s demeanor turned serious and he started toward his coat.
“What? No, no! Gina was one of their girlfriends. I don’t want to talk about it.” After a small silence, she asked. “What did you do with her, the lion?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” Lance threw her a cautious look, thankful he didn’t need to traipse around through deep snow looking for another lost person.
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being so touchy about the goat.” Brook slipped her legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward. “Really, I won’t be bothered to hear a vicious predator was taken down. I hate predators.
Hate
them
.
”
“Okay. I shot her and left the carcass for scavengers. Normally, I’d try to save the coat, but I decided not to take the time.”
Brook stared at Lance as if seeing him for the first time, the look of fear momentarily gone from her face. “You have an interesting life.”
“Yes, I do.” Lance acknowledged, glad to see her looking less sorrowful. “And getting more interesting by the day.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and Brook gave a small smile in return. “Now, I bet you could use a visit to the bathroom and then we can rustle up some supper. I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry I could eat a moose.”
“Please tell me you don’t have a pet moose named Lori Ann,” Brook laughed softly.
“Hmm, now that’s an idea. I’ll have to think on how to tame a moose.” He smiled, lifted her from the bed and carried her toward the bathroom. Noticing Brook wince from discomfort reminded him of his medication supply. “I should mention something probably; I only have one tranquilizer left. If you need it, I can maybe cut it in half. When it’s gone, that’s all there is. Then we’re down to just pain pills and aspirin. I saved some pain pills from the time I had a bad tooth. They’re a few years old, so I can’t vouch for their effectiveness. So, what will it be? Do you want the rest of the tranquilizer?”
“I don’t think I need another one right now,” Brook answered.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” His face was close to hers.
“I still hurt a lot,” she admitted, looking away. “But, I want to try and get by without the drugs."
“Okay,” he said. “But let me know anytime the pain gets to be too much for you. You can always take more aspirin, if you want something a little lighter.”
“Lance,” she said and then hesitated. They were just outside the bathroom door, her arms draped over his shoulders. Mingled with her discomfort at his nearness was a deep sense of gratitude. She struggled for words. He waited patiently for her to speak. “Thank you. For everything. I think you saved my life.”
“It’s okay.” He was humble, maybe even a little shy, as they entered the small bathroom. “Well, here you go,” he said. “Do you want to try and stand?”
“Yes. I can take it from here, I think.”
He lowered her carefully to her feet, watched her grimace as they made contact with the floor, and reached out to steady her. She waved him away and he stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.
When she was returned to the bed, Lance tried to engage her in conversation as he worked in the kitchen. Her replies were unenthusiastic, and he soon gave up. During the meal, however, she laid her fork aside and cleared her throat, ready to speak.
"There are things I should tell you. I know that," she said, voice low. "I'm sure you want to know what happened. But, I just can't go into all that. Not yet."
"There's no hurry." Lance took another bite, chewed slowly. He followed that with a drink. "No hurry at all."
A look of relief passed over her bruised face and they finished eating in relative silence.
After supper, Lance walked to a high shelf in the corner, and turned on a radio. “I only listen once in a while. I don’t like to waste the batteries,” he explained. “Plus, reception up here is tricky. I can’t move the radio even a fraction of an inch from this very spot or I lose the station.” He left the volume low and soft acoustic sounds filled the room. Together with the cold winds whispering outside and the warm hiss and sputter of the fire inside, the little cabin assumed a safe, homey feel. “I like this folk station,” Lance continued. “They play a lot of songs that never make it into the mainstream. I enjoy hearing music I’ve never heard before.”
Brook drifted as the soft strums and sweet mountain voices soothed her hurts and sorrows. She leaned back against the pillows and let relaxation steal over her.
The meal, a savory casserole of some kind, had been served with flaky biscuits slathered in butter, and roasted sweet potatoes. Either Lance was the most talented cook in the known world, or her days of deprivation had sharpened her senses. Every meal he fed her was tastier than the last. With a full stomach, a warm soft bed, and the cozy sounds in the background, Brook felt almost contented in spite of her injuries and fears. When memories of the horrors tried to pop into her mind, she forcefully shut the door on them.
Lance sat in the rocker and worked at some small project, holding it now and again under the lantern for closer scrutiny. They did not talk, but there was no awkwardness. They listened companionably to the wind, the fire, and the music. Brook’s eyes grew heavy and she slept, unaware when Lance blew out the lanterns, shut off the radio, and turned in for the night.