Read The Bearwalker's Daughter Online
Authors: Beth Trissel
Neeley grunted. “John always was too quick to take the bit between his teeth. See you mend first.”
Grandpa roused with a snort. “The fellow’s tough as they come, been living out in the frontier with savages and the like, ain’t he?”
Pain dampened the warmth in Sarah’s expression. “And I can’t undo a moment of his suffering.”
A tender light came into Jack’s eyes. “Nothing that happened to me was your fault, Mama.”
“If only I’d kept you from wandering that day.”
“I was always running after Papa when he was off hunting. You had no way of knowing I’d be carried away by Indians.”
A tremor passed through her petite frame. “I wish there was something I could do to make amends for all those years we spent apart.”
“Being with you and Joseph again is a real comfort. But I’ll tell you what I would enjoy, the pleasure of this young lady’s company.” He cocked his head at Karin. “Care to show me around the place, Miss McNeal?”
She gripped the edge of the table to keep from sliding beneath it. Were there no bounds to his boldness?
The rogue actually smiled at her. “If you would be so kind. I shouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
Sarah pounced on his request like manna from heaven. “Not at all. Do go with him, lass. See he doesn’t strain his wound.”
Grandpa frowned at his eager wife. “Like sending a lamb to lead the wolf.”
Fury lit Sarah’s usually mild gaze. “I’ll thank you not to compare my son to wild beasts, John.”
“Bad enough he was shot,” Neeley chided him.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, though clearly not in the least bit contrite. “Just see you behave, McCray.”
Jack eyed him frostily. “I shall behave toward your granddaughter in the manner I observed from the officers I kept company with during the war.”
“Tories, I reckon?”
Defiance glittered in Jack’s stare. “Their uniforms were colored similarly to Miss McNeal’s scarlet attire.”
Curling his lips, Grandpa snarled, “Thought as much.”
Sarah swooped to her son’s defense. “We agreed not to argue about that, John. Jack was influenced by the tribe and the Shawnee fought for the British.”
“What else have those damn savages influenced him to do?”
“Actually, Miss McNeal would fare better if I treated her as a warrior might. They tend to be shy in their courtship. It was quite the reverse with some of the
gentlemen
I saw on either side.” Jack slapped on his wide-brimmed hat and wrenched open the door.
Karin watched him retreat in wonder, flinching as he vigorously shut the door behind him.
“Of all the confounded gall—” Grandpa began.
Sarah cut him off in tearful accusation. “Can’t you be civil for two minutes together?”
He raked thick fingers through his grizzled mane. “Can’t a man have a moment’s peace without worrying over his granddaughter and your hotheaded son?”
Karin glanced from one outraged expression to the other. “I’ll be all right, Grandpa. I’m not a child.”
He scowled. “That’s the whole trouble, girl.”
Sarah twisted her apron. “For pity’s sake, John. Let her go with him. Jack deserves some softness in his life after all he’s been through. He won’t scalp her.”
“Scalping is the least of my worries. I clearly heard the word
courtship
escape his lips.”
“Can you blame him for fancying her?”
“Not a bit, just so that’s the extent of it.”
A red flush stained Sarah’s face. “Why can’t Jack be considered as a suitor for the girl?”
Karin stared at her.
“I should think that’s as plain as the stars in the sky.” Grandpa elicited a flood of tears.
“He’s a fine young man. Strong and able. Every bit his father—” Sarah choked out.
Grandpa flung up his hands. “Oh, for the love of God. Go show the fellow about then, Karin, but remember who you are. And heaven help us if Joseph takes offense.”
“He won’t—can’t,” Sarah argued.
Grandpa muttered, “I assure you he can.”
****
Her stomach fluttering, Karin picked her way across the muddy yard beyond their sprawling homestead. A chill darted through her despite the extra flannel petticoat she’d donned beneath her warmest cloak.
Jack
—the name alone sent shivers down to her toes.
She almost lost her footing on the red and yellow leaves slicking the ground beneath her leather shoes.
Eas
y
, she told herself, breathing in the tang of hickory smoke from the chimney.
Perhaps they’d not be out for long. Heavy clouds darkened the sky and stiff breezes whipped her skirts. Most of the trees were stripped of their autumn finery. She glanced at the ridges looming up beyond their narrow valley. Only a few leaves clung to the branches. Winter would soon be upon them.
Good heavens. She could be snowed in with Jack. Her heart lurched into her throat and a riot of emotions coursed through her. Annoyed with herself for being so easily unsettled, she pushed open the double doors to the stable.
The earthy aroma of horses and hay greeted her as she entered the dim interior, so comfortingly familiar. An expectant nicker welcomed her from the first stall. Karin brushed chilled fingers over the mare’s soft black muzzle and fed her searching mouth the apple she’d brought. Velvet lips crunched the juicy fruit and nudged her for more.
“That’s all.” Her voice was lost in the rattling wind.
She walked past the remaining stalls and nuzzling lips. McNeal bloodlines were heralded in these parts and painstaking attention given to their horses. More brood mares and foals were out in the pasture and Joseph waited in the lean-to they’d built for foaling.
As for Jack, she spotted his shadowy figure inside the farthest stall. He’d bridled his mount and looped its reins around one of the stout poles joined to the wide beams overhead. His back to her, he curried a magnificent strawberry roan stallion, its chestnut coat heavily mixed with gray. The horse snatched hay from the manger and stood quietly, seemingly good-natured and well trained.
How on earth did he come by such a superb mount? Karin had no more opportunity to wonder, and it wasn’t the stallion she kept close watch on as she approached the two, unsure what Jack might say or do.
“Mister McCray!” She was careful not to take him by surprise as she’d done last night, ready to turn and race back outside in an instant if need be.
Jack turned his head, eyes narrowed beneath his hat. Tension ran the length of his jaw. She faltered at the anger in his face. He must still be vexed with her grandfather; possibly with her too.
Uncertain, she said, “Jack?”
A smile turned up the corners of his drawn mouth, making him appear even more youthful and less like a hardened frontiersman. “So, you’ve come. I figured John McNeal would hold you prisoner before ever letting you go off with me.”
Maybe he should have. Karin stepped nearer to Jack, the hay cushioning her shoes. “Grandpa can be prevailed upon by your bonnie mother.”
He paused, the brush in his hand. “And you?”
Karin shifted from one damp sole to the other and ran her tongue over her lips. “Perhaps.”
His smile widened. “Come and meet Peki.” He opened the short stall door.
She hesitated outside the narrow space.
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
“Not of the horse.”
Jack chuckled. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“For a warrior or a soldier?”
“Myself.”
Keeping her eyes on his broad back, she said, “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”
“Come discover.”
She slipped inside the pen bedded with clean straw and turned almost in awe at the horse towering above her. She patted his sleek neck. “He’s beautiful. You could start a new line with him.”
“Yes. He’s the finest I’ve ever known. But God help me, Karin, so are you.”
A current charged through her at his words and the emotion behind them. She swiveled, lifting her eyes to the intensity in his. “Why do you need the Lord’s help?”
“You have no idea,” he said huskily.
Unable to fathom what he meant, she stared up at him, her head reaching just below his shoulders. He stood so near her that even with the layers of clothing between them she was keenly aware of his warmth, energy, and something else new to her, desire. Instinct told her this emotion was as explosive as gunpowder and contagious as fever.
Almost without realizing what she did, she backed toward the door. His mouth tightened, but he remained where he was. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I seem to have a knack for frightening you.”
She stopped. He really hadn’t done anything wrong yet. “You must think me the most shameful coward.”
A sardonic glint flickered in his gaze. “A little.”
Indignation ruffled her and she cocked an eye at him. “What can you expect? You tried to slit my throat in the night.”
He laid the brush on the wooden ledge. “No, sweetheart. If I truly tried, you’d be dead.”
Both his reply and the endearment rattled her. “Near enough. And then—” she broke off, unwilling to mention the kiss. “Well, I’m not normally this fainthearted.”
The smile he shot Karin made her weak.
“If you don’t wish me to think so, prove me wrong. Show me you have some mettle,” he challenged.
“How?”
He fixed her with a look that swept right through her fluttering middle. “Go for a ride with me on Peki.”
“What—now?”
A casual shrug belied the force in his demeanor. “Peki could do with the chance to stretch his legs. He’s not used to confinement. Nor am I.”
“But your mother doesn’t want you straining yourself.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed as if at the best joke. “I’ve not had anyone making that kind of fuss over me in ages.”
“You have now. Besides, Grandpa won’t want me perched up there with you.”
“Or your uncles, or Joseph. You’ve a legion of menfolk. Ever decide anything for yourself?”
Now he sounded like Neeley. She drew herself up. “Of course.”
He lifted the saddle on the ledge and swung it to the stallion’s back. “You coming or not?”
“Are you going either way?”
“I surely am.”
She squared her shoulders. “Then I’m coming too.”
He glanced at her and a slow smile spread over his face. “Come, then, my bold little miss.”
Chapter Five
With Karin at his heels, Jack led the saddled stallion out into the stable yard. He stopped to consider the angle of her dimpled chin. “Want to be even more daring and ride astride?” He suspected she’d take the bait.
She looked up at him with a spark in her eyes, twin flames in pools of blue. “Astride.”
He almost chortled. It sobered him slightly to think of the bad influence he was, no doubt, exerting on this otherwise dutiful young lady, but only slightly.
She wasn’t tall, about average in height for a woman, and needed a boost to mount Peki. Despite the layers of cloth she’d bundled in, Jack relished closing his hands around her waist and hoisting her up onto the stallion’s broad back. He didn’t even mind the complaint in his shoulder as her petticoats bunched up on both sides in a mass of striped burgundy and revealed her shapely stocking clad legs.
Nearly giddy from the sight, he swung himself up behind her. He closed his good arm around her alluring form and pulled her snugly against him. A gasp escaped Karin. “Can’t risk you taking a fall,” he said, leaving her no choice other than to remain as she was.
Normally, Jack found doubling up on horseback disagreeable at best, but that harkened back to the days of grimy soldiers who reeked of sweat and rum. Having Karin pressed against him beat riding alone any time.
He wished he could keep her like this. She embodied everything hard years spent battling over the fate of America hadn’t, like a spring day scented with flowers after grueling months of ice and snow. And he’d endured plenty of winter in his life. The ache in his shoulder aside, Jack never felt more alive.
With a throaty chuckle, he prodded Peki. The stallion sprang past the smokehouse, spring house, and other outbuildings spread around the homestead, built of log and stone and kept in good repair. Hazy ridges rose above them on either side. Giving a spirited whinny, Peki stretched out his legs and pounded past the neatly pruned apple orchard. Jack urged the sure-footed horse toward the split rail fence.
Karin tensed at first then laughed as the animal sailed across and landed on the turf where several brown and white Guernsey’s grazed. Her nerve thrilled him. He’d expected her to squeal in alarm.
The cows snorted. Leaving the startled beasts behind, they raced through the rain-soaked grass. In a nearby meadow, mares and foals of all colors, dappled gray, chestnut, bay, and black, scattered at their coming, the quality of their bloodlines evident in the horses’ strong legs, high-molded backs, curved necks, and fine heads. None outshone Peki, or for that matter, Karin.