Candace McCarthy (4 page)

“We needed supplies!” she shouted before he could interrupt her again. “Miriam couldn’t come. The rest were all busy.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Of course they were.”

Amelia’s back went up. “I’m trying to thank you for coming to my aid, but you’re making it damn difficult!” She spun away and marched toward the wagon. Amazingly, through all the commotion, her horse hadn’t run away. While the humans were arguing, the animal chomped grass.

She had not gone very far when she felt someone grab her shoulder from behind. She shrieked, and Daniel instantly released her. She spun to face him.

“I’m not done talking with you.”

“I’m the victim here,” she cried. “Why do I feel as if I’m the criminal being punished?” His nearness generated a heat inside her. She felt wounded and vulnerable, and she didn’t need him yelling at her.

“Have you thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t followed you?”

She saw red. “You followed me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“I’d seen Kertell, and I’d seen you. I knew it was only a matter of time before the man made a pest of himself to you.”

“Pest?” She was outraged that he thought of her confrontation with the fur trapper so lightly. “The man is more than a pest, Daniel Trahern. He’s a menace to society.”

A half smile formed on Daniel’s lips. His gaze was mocking. “You may have had some
society
in the city of Baltimore,” he said, giving away the fact that he knew and remembered from where she’d come. “Here in Wisconsin, there aren’t any society folks. It’s just us poor working folks whose only desire is to survive in this rugged land.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He interrupted her again. “Once you’ve done all your trading or buying or whatever it is that needs doing at Jack’s, then you’d best hurry home. Ask Jack to escort you back.”

She glared at him. “I was coming to see you.” She went to the wagon and reached under the seat. She pulled out a small metal instrument and extended it toward the blacksmith. “Father needs you to make one of these for him.”

Daniel held her gaze for a long moment before he transferred his attention to the object in her hand. She held it out farther, and he took it. He didn’t study it; he just looked at her. “You should not have come here alone.”

“Can you make one of those or not?” she asked, fuming inwardly, but unwilling to show it.

“I can make it.” Once again, his blue eyes captured her attention. Heat rushed through her veins as she steadily held his gaze.

“Good,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” She was mad, but didn’t show it as she climbed up onto the wagon as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She was conscious of how disheveled she looked and of the pain in her head and at the site of her other injuries. “When will it be ready?”

The man shrugged as he approached the wagon. “Tomorrow—late. Have your father pick it up the day after.”

“My father’s extremely busy—what are you doing?” she exclaimed as Daniel climbed onto the seat beside her and grabbed the reins from her hands.

“I’m taking you home.”

“No, you’re not.”

He glared at her. “You believe Kertell went away qui-
etly. He didn’t. He’s out there right now, waiting to see if you’re alone as you head back.”

Amelia couldn’t suppress a shiver. “You think he’s waiting for me?”

Daniel nodded. He studied her face and his expression softened. He touched her forehead where Kertell had left a bruise. “Does it hurt much?”

It was almost as if he really cared. Mesmerized by his tender expression, she could only shake her head.

“Don’t come back here alone, Amelia,” he said quietly and with authority. “I may not be around the next time you get yourself into trouble.”

Her jaw snapped. “I didn’t invite the fur trapper’s attentions!”

He inspected her from head to toe. “Just your being here is enough temptation for any man.”

Amelia laughed harshly. “Hardly that, Mr. Trahern.” She didn’t think he would be so cruel.

“Daniel,” he said stiffly, then he appeared to be annoyed at himself. “There aren’t many women out here in this territory. A few at the mission, but none others like you. Your presence here alone is an invitation to a man.”

Incensed, she lifted her chin. “That’s not true, and you know it. For some reason, you’ve chosen to dislike me on sight. You know nothing about me or my father; yet, you’d made up your mind as soon as you met us.” She was disconcerted by his continued study of her.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Amelia. Surely, you must know that.”

Beautiful?
she thought. She wasn’t the beautiful sister; Rachel was. What would he say after meeting her? “I’m neither beautiful nor stupid, Mr. Trahern, and I don’t appreciate the cruel jokes at my expense.” She tried to grab the reins from his hand, but he held them out of reach.

Daniel gazed at her, intrigued. Was it possible that she actually didn’t recognize her own attraction? Then, he remembered he’d been blinded to it at first. Studying Amelia now, he wondered how he hadn’t seen her true beauty immediately.

When she reached for the reins again, he allowed her to take them. He didn’t make any attempt to climb down from the wagon. After a long, hard look, Amelia clicked her tongue to spur the horse on. She headed the vehicle toward a clearing where she could turn it around to head back to the mission.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he drawled with a smile of amusement.

“I’m turning the vehicle around, Mr. Trahern,” she said haughtily.

He could feel her anger; it reached out to him in taut waves, but it was something else about her that affected him greatly. Sitting next to her made him very much aware of her femininity. His skin tingled, and he was conscious of her every movement … the sharp little intake of breath she made when he shifted closer and his knee touched hers … the angry sound she uttered when despite her pointed suggestions he refused to leave her to travel back alone.

She was tense, and he could feel it. She was angry, and he responded with amusement and respect.

Amelia pulled into the clearing and felt satisfied when she managed to turn the wagon around. They traveled for a time in silence. She had to admit to herself that she was glad that Daniel was with her. She had been nervous that she might encounter Kertell again. Daniel’s presence made her feel safe and protected. If he had been nicer about things, she wouldn’t feel the need to strike back at him.

She glanced his way. “Thank you again for the rescue, Daniel,” she said sweetly—too sweetly. The fact that he’d scolded her still stung.

She was satisfied to see his gaze narrow. “Don’t return alone, Miss Dempsey,” he said, acknowledging the barb with one of his own. “I don’t want to have to kill a man because you were too foolish to listen to good reason.”

That was the last of their conversation until they reached the mission. Daniel helped her carry the items she’d bought into the infirmary. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“How will you get back?” Amelia asked.

“I’m going to walk, Miss Dempsey.”

“But that’ll take you hours.”

“An hour actually. Not so very far at all.”

John Dempsey overheard their conversation as he exited the building. “Thank you, Mr. Trahern, for escorting Amelia home. I appreciate it.”

Daniel acknowledged the man’s thanks with a nod. “Your daughter had a bit of trouble near the post today. I suggested to her that in the future she not travel anywhere alone. It’s dangerous out there, more so for a lone woman.”

John Dempsey gazed at his daughter. “I thought Miriam was going with you.”

Amelia blushed. “She couldn’t make it.”

“So you decided to go alone?”

She nodded.

“That wasn’t a smart thing to do,” her father said.

Anger made her eyes sparkle and her fists clench. “I’m not a child, Father! I realize now that I shouldn’t have gone alone. You and Mr. Trahern don’t have to keep at me about it!”

With that, she went off in a huff to get away from both men.

“She’s got a temper, I’m afraid,” John Dempsey apologized.

“Nothing wrong with a little temper,” Daniel said politely. “I’ve got a bit of one myself.”

John Dempsey followed Daniel outside and to the wagon. “I’ll have your tool ready the day after tomorrow,” Daniel said as he brushed off his hands.

John nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Your daughter—she’s not all that helpless,” Daniel said. “Today I think she realized that she has a lot to learn about the dangers of living in this area.”

“She’s always been a headstrong young woman,” the doctor admitted with a sigh.

“Nothing wrong with being headstrong,” Daniel said, “as long as one doesn’t allow one’s bad sense to outweigh the good.”

It was the first time that Amelia had ever seen an Indian, and she was shocked by the sight. She didn’t know exactly what’d she expected, but it wasn’t a near-naked man.

She’d been helping her father in the infirmary when the brave had come in with an injured hand. Amelia tried not to stare at him as she handed her father the things he needed. But she couldn’t help looking at the warrior. She’d never seen a man in a loincloth. He was bare-chested and muscled. His dark hair fell past his shoulders. He had dark eyes that regarded her with curiosity whenever she happened to look his way. He made her uncomfortable. In her brief glances his way, she’d noted tattoos across his chest and shoulder and tiny metal rings through the lobe of each ear. He looked primitive and dangerous. She was both frightened and fascinated. She knew it wasn’t polite to stare and worried about what was proper, but she looked anyway.

The Indian didn’t flinch while the doctor worked on his hand, although the wound and her father’s ministrations must be causing him pain.

“Amelia, hand me another strip of cloth,” her father said.

She immediately gave him the bandage strip.

“Keep the wound clean,” John Dempsey told his patient. “I’ve cleaned and stitched it. Come back in a few days, and I’ll check it for you. If you can’t return, have someone take out these stitches.”

The brave nodded and mumbled a few words. The Indian obviously knew English. He handed something to John Dempsey, then with one last look in Amelia’s direction, the Indian left. Amelia relaxed only after the man left the building. She peered outside and watched him join up with a band of six Indians.

“Amelia,” her father said, drawing her attention, “come away from that window. It’s not polite to stare.”

She blushed. “I wasn’t staring. I was just looking.” She shuddered as she glanced outside again at the fierce-looking group of men. “I think I know why some people call the Indians savages.”

John Dempsey smiled. “Did he make you nervous?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t someone like him.” She moved away from the window to clean and straighten her father’s work area. “Apparently, he understands English.” Her father nodded. “Who is he?”

“His name is Rain-from-Sky. He is brother to the Ojibwa war chief, Black Hawk.”

Amelia felt a chill. “War chief?”

John inclined his head. “His brother is. When there’s trouble between Indian tribes, Black Hawk leads the Ojibwa against their enemy. Rain-from-Sky is a great warrior, but he is not a chief.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“From Reverend Whitely. Some of the Ojibwa are frequent visitors to the mission. He also said that Daniel Trahern and Black Hawk are friends.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of the blacksmith. She could easily picture Daniel with an Indian. Daniel was fair while the Ojibwa was dark, but there was something about Daniel that seemed as wild and untamed
as his Indian friends. “With Daniel’s influence, I’m surprised that the Ojibwa come to the mission at all.”

“They don’t come to be taught the word of God, although the missionaries have apparently tried to convert them. They come to trade with the people here.”

“I would have thought they’d do their trading at Jack Keller’s place,” Amelia said.

“Oh, they do that, too.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Some of the Indian women like the crosses the missionaries wear about their necks. They bring furs and other items to trade for the necklaces the missionaries make for them.”

Amelia cleaned off her father’s worktable. “I see.”

The doctor smiled at his daughter as he studied the object in his hand.

“What’s that?” Amelia asked.

Her father held up a beaded pouch on a string long enough to be worn over the shoulder or around the neck. “Payment for services rendered.”

The colorful beadwork was beautiful. Amelia was fascinated and approached for a closer look. “It’s lovely!”

He handed it to her. “You take it. You can use it to carry whatever it is you ladies like to carry.”

The beads felt warm beneath her fingers. “Thank you. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“They do beautiful work, don’t they?”

Amelia agreed. “They do. It’s hard—” She bit her lip. She’d been going to say that it was hard to believe a savage could make something so beautiful, but the unfairness of the statement got to her before she’d been foolish enough to utter it.

“The blacksmith said my forceps would be ready today.”

“Yesterday actually.”

“I could certainly use them,” he said. “Do you know if anyone is heading that way?”

She didn’t know, but told him she would ask around. She went in the back rooms to prepare her and her father’s lunch. She heard the doctor talking to someone in the front room. A new patient must have entered the infirmary. She left the kitchen to check if her father needed help. She saw a young man—a soldier. He sat on the examining table while her father looked at his arm.

“How did you do this?” the doctor asked.

“Nicked it on a briar bush.”

“It’s festered.”

The young soldier nodded. “It didn’t seem too bad at first, but once I noticed the red swelling, I figured I’d better get it looked at.” He noticed Amelia, who had quietly come up behind her father.

“And not a moment too soon,” John said. “I’m sorry—it’s going to hurt while I clean it, but it can’t be avoided.”

The young man nodded. “Hello,” he said to Amelia with a smile.

“Ah, Amelia, good you’re here,” her father said without glancing back. Then, he told her what he needed, and she assisted him quietly, efficiently, feeling sympathy when the soldier winced with pain.

“Is he always this brutal?” the pale young man asked her after her father finished cleaning the wound and spread a salve on it to battle infection.

“Always,” Amelia said with a teasing smile. “Sometimes he’s even worse.”

The soldier shuddered and closed his eyes. “Then I pray I never get shot.”

“Bandage the wound for me, will you, Amelia?” her father said. “I have something to do in the back.”

“Certainly, Father.” She collected the supplies, then smiled at the patient as she bandaged his arm.

“Keep the wound clean, and put this on it to fight infection.” The doctor handed the man a jar of cream.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Her father nodded and left.

“Is your fort nearby?” Amelia asked.

The soldier shook his head. “No, it’s two days’ journey from here. We’re camped nearby about a mile away.” He watched her wind the strip of fabric carefully about his arm. “Amelia.”

She looked at him. He wore the navy military jacket and pale blue pants that were the uniform of a US soldier. His dark brown hair had been cropped short, but he had long sideburns and no beard. His eyes were gray, fringed by thick dark lashes. His mouth looked too soft, his face boyish. He couldn’t have been much more than eighteen.

“Pretty name,” he said.

“Thank you. It was my grandmother’s name.”

“I’m Cameron Walters.”

“Hello, Mr. Walters,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And it was, Amelia decided. The young man was pleasant, respectful, and quite good-looking although he was young.

“Cameron, please.”

“All right, Cameron.” She picked up a second fabric strip and began to wind it over the first. “And you may call me Miss Dempsey,” she said. Her eyes twinkled as she met his gaze.

He grinned, but took her at her word. “Miss Dempsey, you’re new here. When did you and the doctor arrive?”

“Oh, you’ve been here before?”

He nodded. “A couple of times, but I would have remembered seeing someone as lovely as you.”

Amelia met his gaze with raised eyebrows at his lavish compliment, believing it to be false. The soldier blushed and looked away, while mumbling an apology. His horrified look earned her sympathy.

“Tell me, Cameron, are you or any of your friends—I assume you’re with your troop and haven’t come here alone.” The man nodded. “Are any of you planning a trip to the trading post?”

His expression perked up as he studied her. “Why, are you in need of some special item?”

“Actually, my father is, but not from Keller’s—from the blacksmith there, Daniel Trahern.”

“I could go there if you’d like.”

“That’s extremely nice of you.”

“If you will be so kind as to accompany me there.”

“What about your superiors? Don’t you have to report back?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why, since I’ve been given the rest of the day free.”

Amelia didn’t know if she wanted to see Daniel again so soon, although she’d regretted their last exchange. The blacksmith had saved her and escorted her back to the mission. He had scolded her, but it had been for her own good; yet, she had repaid his kindness with anger. She knew she’should apologize to him. She just didn’t know if she felt ready enough to do that.

If you don’t go and get it over with, you’ll never rest,
she thought. “All right, I’ll go with you,” Amelia said, and she hoped she wouldn’t be sorry she’d agreed to go.

It was a pleasant afternoon for the ride to the trading post. Cameron was good company, and Amelia was glad for the escort. The memory of her encounter with Thomas
Kertell chilled her. She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if Daniel hadn’t come to save her.

She stole a glance at the young soldier beside her. If Kertell stopped her again, would Cameron be able to protect her? Cameron was a boy compared to Daniel. She hoped he was a good shot. He was a soldier; he should be. His confident manner made her question her fears.

The journey to the post took little time. Amelia was glad when they made it safely with no sign of Kertell or any Indians. Her first encounter this morning with an Indian had been enlightening. She didn’t think she wanted to meet one when she was alone.

“Would you like me to come inside?” Cameron said as he pulled the wagon in front of the blacksmithy.

She shook her head. She wanted to apologize to Daniel Trahern without an audience. “I’ll be fine. Go on to Keller’s. Didn’t you mention that you needed a few things?”

The young man admitted that he did. “Shall I wait here for you when I’m done?”

“That’ll be fine, thank you.”

Amelia stared at the blacksmithy a moment before venturing inside. She entered the building and immediately spied Daniel by the forge fire. She studied him a moment, found enjoyment in watching him work, then approached.

Daniel felt a tingling at his nape that alerted him that he was being watched. He glanced up, saw it was Amelia Dempsey, and quickly looked down again.

“Mr. Trahern?”

He straightened, set down his work, and faced her. “Miss Dempsey,” he said. “Come for your father’s forceps?”

She nodded. “And to apologize.”

Daniel concealed his surprise. “For what?”

“You rescued me three days ago, and I was rude.” She
gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful you came by when you did. I’m not sure I would have escaped that horrible man if you hadn’t. Thank you.”

“An apology and a thank-you?” he said with a teasing twinkle. “I’m honored.”

The effect of his smile on her was devastating. His blond hair was ruffled and appealing. His blue eyes glowed, and there were tiny crinkle lines at each outer corner. Her blood warmed. He really was an extremely attractive man.

“Have you settled in at the mission?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, we have, thank you. The people there seem friendly enough.”

Noting something odd in her tone, Daniel looked at her. “You’re surprised that they’re friendly.”

Amelia blushed. “I guess it’s because of something Jack told me when we first came.”

Jack?
Daniel frowned.
Not Mr. Keller but Jack.
He felt a niggling of anger. “What was that?”

“He said that you disliked the missionaries, that you didn’t agree with their efforts to improve the Indians’ way of life. I met an Indian this morning, and I would think the missionaries could help them.”

A muscle ticked along Daniel’s jaw. “You think that, do you?”

She nodded. “Why they barely wore a stitch of clothing!”

“So the white lady was offended,” he said mockingly.

“No, not offended exactly.”

“Miss Dempsey, you know nothing about the Ojibwa people, least of all what’s best for them.” His voice was hard, angry.

She appeared flustered. “I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have spoken up. I was just making an observation. You
are right; I don’t know the Indians, so how can I judge what’s best for them?”

She had surprised him once again with her answer. “Since you are here,” he said, thinking it best to change the subject, “I assume someone accompanied you.”

She nodded. “Cameron Walters, a soldier in the US Army. He sought medical help for an injured arm and was gracious enough to offer himself as escort.”

He felt a flicker of some strange emotion. “I would think you would have preferred to come with your father,” he commented.

She shrugged, bringing his attention to the curve of her neck. “Father was too busy to come.”

“And so this soldier volunteered to escort you,” he said, perhaps a little too sharply. He didn’t want to put a name to whatever it was he was feeling.

She nodded, but looked confused by his tone.

He forced a smile. “Is there anything else your father needed?” He moved to a worktable and picked up the forceps he’d made for John Dempsey.

“Not that I’m aware of.” She didn’t move, but waited for him to return.

He went to her and gave her the medical instrument. As he handed it to her, his gaze fell on the beaded pouch. “Where did you get your bag?” he asked, intrigued.

“The Ojibwa brave gave it to my father as payment for tending his injured hand.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “An Ojibwa went to your father as a patient?”

“Yes, why do you sound surprised?” Amelia frowned. “Tell me—are the Ojibwa and the Chippewa one and the same people?”

“They are actually. Many people around here prefer
Chippewa
over
Ojibwa.”
He rubbed his right wrist with
his other hand, as if the wrist pained him. “Have you noticed how much alike the two words sound?
Ah-jib-ah-wa. Chip-ah-wa.”
He reached out to touch the strung beads. “As for your first question, I’m surprised because the Ojibwa people are skilled in the medicinal arts. I’d trust my life to an Ojibwa shaman before I’d go to an American doctor. I’ve seen them heal patients. Their skills are amazing. They know more about healing with plants and herbs than any white man I’ve known.”