White Dawn (15 page)

“I think I can manage, Emily,” he interrupted softly. Actually, he wasn’t sure how—but somehow he would. It was one thing to know she’d taken care of him like a babe while he’d been unconscious. If she tried to help him now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from reacting to her closeness.

Nodding, she left. “I’ll ask Ben help you outside, though.”

John rolled his eyes. He didn’t want Ben to help him walk. Did she think he was still some helpless kitten?

Twenty minutes later, he was thankful for his friend’s assistance—though a bit disgusted that he was still so weak. A trip into the trees quashed any idea of taking a bath, too; he was far too tired from this walk. Still, the prospect of a hearty meal with meat cheered him, as it did Fang, who lay happily gnawing on a bone. Over a meal during which they all sat outside on a blanket, John dug in, feeling as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

After the meal, with the cool night air easing the heat of the day, he, along with Emily, Ben and Mary, sat talking. John fought waves of exhaustion and struggled to remain awake. At last giving in, he eased onto his back and stared up at the star-studded heavens. Never had a night seemed so beautiful or perfect. He glanced sideways at Emily, his gaze roaming over her silvery hair.

She reclined beside him, laughing at one of Ben’s outrageous stories. Tonight she was animated, different from the woman he’d found nearly two weeks ago. Life flowed from her and into him. Listening to the sweet music of her voice and the caress of her laughter, he gave in to his need to sleep. With his Lady Dawn beside him, nights didn’t seem so long or dark.

Emily stared up at the stars, finding peace and a sense of rebirth in watching the jewel-bright lights twinkle and dance high above her. One shot across the sky, falling somewhere beyond the horizon. The moon, a silver crescent, hung as if dangling from an invisible wire. The night was balmy, the breeze a soft caress over the land, and she’d opted just to sleep outside.

She’d fashioned two pallets on the blanket. John lay several feet from her at one end of the blanket, and she lay on the other side. He’d fallen asleep shortly after supper and no one had wanted to wake him. Today had been his first day of activity and he’d fallen into a well-deserved exhausted slumber. She studied him, noting his pallor from trying to do so much.

Ben and Mary were bedded down a short distance from her—close enough to be on hand if need be, but far enough that she and John had some privacy. They’d refused the use of the crude cabin, saying they preferred the outdoors to its stale, stuffy inside. She couldn’t blame them for that. She herself had found she loved sleeping outdoors beneath the stars. Fully relaxed for the first time in a long while, Emily gave herself over to the night.

As she stared up at the sky, the events of the day crowded in—from the fear of intruders, to the horror of how both she and John must have looked, to the relief that had flooded her to learn that Ben and Mary were staying. Some of the weight had eased from her shoulders.

Maybe now John wouldn’t worry so much.
Right,
she thought. She couldn’t see John sitting back, allowing Ben to work while he himself healed. Still, he had no choice—not for a while.

With Ben’s help, fresh meat wouldn’t be a problem. No more boiled beans and bear fat—and in a day or so she’d have something decent to wear. Mary had offered to help her sew a blouse to wear with her skirt, and an extra dress.

John’s shirt over her skirt covered her, as well as a pair of heavy wool pants that Mary had loaned her. She rubbed the long sleeve of the buckskin garment between her fingers. She hadn’t been able to give up wearing it. She’d miss the comfort the shirt gave her. Like John himself, it was big and reassuring. She felt as safe in his clothing as if he were holding her.

Emily smiled in the darkness. It felt wonderful to be in the company of another woman, too. And to be among people who spoke her language. Over dinner, she’d felt as though she’d stepped into another world—a world of laughter, friendship and acceptance.

Again she realized just how much she’d missed carrying on a simple conversation—exchanging thoughts and ideas. Tonight’s laughter and good-natured arguing in which no one got mad or hurt was new to her. She found she enjoyed it very much.

Laughter had been rare in her family, and arguing nonexistent. There were no other views to be considered—only her father’s. She’d thought she found everything she’d ever longed for with her warrior, but now she knew better.

There had always been a chasm between her and her godlike warrior, one she couldn’t cross—and now she realized it was the ability to talk and be understood. To know what he liked and disliked, how he thought, what he believed in. And they’d been unable to share even laughter over some silly joke.

While she’d shared countless smiles with her Indian lover, it wasn’t the same as sharing thoughts and beliefs, wishes and dreams. Emily had loved joining in with Mary in teasing John about some of his and Ben’s past exploits. And she’d loved how the men had gotten their own back—at least at Mary—by teasing her in kind.

It truly amazed Emily that in so short a time, she knew so much about John: how he normally hated the name Johnny, yet how it had comforted him when he’d been sick with fever. How he made a lousy patient, because he liked to be in control. How he was stubborn and he’d refused to let her give up on life. Most of all, she knew John Cartier was kind. He had a soft heart when it came to injured animals like the hawk and the wolf…and even like her.

She thought hard. What had she known about her warrior? She scrunched her eyes closed, trying to envision her golden Apollo. Sadly, she had to admit to knowing very little. What he ate, how he liked his food cooked, his daily routine, how he liked to be touched and to touch her. How he liked her hair. How kind he’d been to her. And…and what else? Surely there had to be more, she knew. She searched her mind, but aside from what she’d said, she couldn’t list anything that would tell her who he truly was.

She’d known nothing of his thoughts, of the things that made a person who he was. She’d not learned of his family, or who his friends were. She hadn’t even learned his name! In a flash, she remembered the first night he’d held her. She’d dreamed he’d spoken to her in English. That night he’d told her some strange story about a coyote and his friend the spider. The next day, and every day after, he’d not spoken one word of English except her name: Emily.

He hadn’t even shared his name with her! He had to have known what she was asking, had to have understood that she would have liked to know. She’d just called him her golden Apollo, but had never known anything more.

She called his image to her. It came. She expected to feel pain, to want to weep for him, but she only felt sadness that she hadn’t been able to get to know him. Not even his name. If she knew so little of him, how could she have loved him? Yet hadn’t her feelings been strong? Overwhelming?

She turned her head to check on John. Truthfully, she just wanted to look at him. A dark lock of hair had fallen across his eyes. Tenderly she reached out and brushed it aside. His head turned toward her, as if seeking her touch. She wanted to give it, but she didn’t.

She longed just to close the distance between them, to let him hold her close. But she couldn’t. Even if he opened his eyes and held out his arms, she didn’t dare.
Because
she wanted him. Because she wanted him as a woman wants a man—and she knew how it felt. Her body tightened with need. But was what she’d known—that intense pleasure her warrior had given her—all there was to a relationship with a man? Wasn’t there more?

She hadn’t understood before, but now she knew there was. All during the day and evening she’d seen it in Ben and Mary. The pair knew each other so well that oftentimes one would anticipate the needs of the other or even finish the other’s sentence. It was something she’d never seen, and to her dismay she wanted to experience it.

Suppressing a moan, she turned away from John and closed her eyes.
Stop thinking of him,
she ordered herself. Her mind and heart were jumbled with need and confusion and doubts. At the bottom of it all, one question demanded an answer. How could she think herself in love with one man, then days later feel an equally strong need for another?

She feared the answer. If it was lust, then she was no better than her father’s mother. If love, she feared becoming too close. For surely he’d abandon her as had everyone else…eventually.

She didn’t think she could survive another hurt like the ones she’d had. And she certainly wasn’t ready to try. Not yet. Not for a long time. Maybe never. Too much had happened in so little time; it was hard to accept it all. Yet one truth stood out as clearly as the black sky above her. Survival demanded she protect her heart. As soon as John was well, she’d remind him of his promise to take her back to the mission and her mother’s friend. She’d focus on that—on getting back to the mission. She’d pray Millicente was still there. Then she’d seek out her blood father and put the past behind her. Perhaps she could try to secure some sort of post or job wherever he was. Love had no place in her life. She didn’t want it. And she didn’t need its fickle character to ruin her life.

With her mind made up, sleep should have come easy. Yet the thought of leaving John, of never seeing him again, left Emily feeling hollow inside.

In the four weeks since John’s accident, he’d recovered amazingly well. Emily was pleased—and relieved. Each day she walked with him to help him regain his strength. Except for still using makeshift crutches that Ben had fashioned from tree branches, he was almost back to normal. And his wound was healing nicely.

Overhead, the sun trickled down between the leaves. The air was hot, still and stifling. At her side, John kept pace with her deliberately slower rhythm. She enjoyed their morning and afternoon strolls—and they had nothing else they needed to do. With Ben’s and Mary’s help, there was lots of free time to be had for all.

The quiet and easy companionship she and John had formed over the past month soothed and healed her battered heart and calmed her fraught mind. For the most part, she managed to keep fear and worry over the future at bay. It was easy to do out here, she supposed. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. Of course, sooner or later she’d have to leave this quiet, beautiful land and return to the real world. And that meant saying goodbye to John. Some of the pleasure in this outing dimmed. How could she, in so short a time, have come to rely so much on another person? Hadn’t she learned better?

He’d promised to be a friend. And he’d kept that promise. She’d never felt so close to another person in her life. Even with her mother there’d been a barrier. Timothy.

When John’s wolf raced ahead of them, Emily put the depressing thoughts from her mind and gave herself over to the moment. There would be time enough later to worry over the future and examine her feelings for John.

Fang ran into the shallows and rolled on his back, then leaped to his feet and loped back to them, dripping water. Emily yelped when the beast shook himself off with a delighted bark.

John waved the wolf away. “Outta here, mutt,” he said in a growl. But Emily heard the laughter in his voice.

“I notice he didn’t spray
you
with water,” she grumbled, though not really put out. In fact, she felt slightly cooler and wished she could just strip down and swim. But those days of going about as she pleased were over. In truth, if given the choice again between a silent lover who would show her a new freedom she’d never even dreamed of, or the friendship and pleasant companionship John offered, she’d choose John. Having someone to talk to, someone with whom to share ideas was more valuable than being able to spend afternoons swimming lazily in the water with a man who looked like a god.

Fang barked again, as if urging them to hurry. Emily’s laughter rang out. “Patience, wolf. Your master cannot run about.”

The animal, frustrated that no one would play with him, cocked his furry head to the side, then lunged toward one of John’s crutches. John whipped the crutch out of reach and easily blocked the jumping animal. The wolf fell back and sprawled on the ground, but not for long. In a flash of gray, his jaws locked on to the other crutch before John could lift it out of his reach. With one sharp tug of his strong neck and with his hind legs planted, the animal yanked his master off balance.

Emily rolled her eyes, knowing what was to come. She stopped and waited and watched with undisguised amusement as John launched himself at the wolf with a fierce roar. Fang barked and growled, but kept a firm grip on the crutch. Emily shook her head, watching man and beast finally fall to the ground, ignoring the crutch to wrestle beneath the shade of the tall cottonwoods.

At last, John pinned the squirming animal and yelled in victory. He released his pet, earning himself a few swipes of the beast’s tongue on his face. Fang jumped up and rested his one front paw on his master’s chest.

It still amazed Emily to see a wild animal—one that she knew from experience to be capable of ruthlessly stalking and killing even human prey—behaving more like a spoiled dog.

“I never knew a wolf could be tamed so easily,” she said, more to herself.

John glanced over. “Loving he might be, but make no mistake. He’s still a wild animal. The nature of the wolf runs in his blood.” John grabbed a hunk of the beast’s ruff and gave a tug.

Emily frowned. “Are you saying he could turn?”

John paused. “Don’t think he’d ever turn on me or you. Since I found him as a young pup barely able to scamper about, he’s bonded with humans. At least ones he knows. But don’t forget the call of the wild runs deep. There might come a day when he gives in to it—decides to leave and go live with his own kind.”

“I hope not.” She knew John would miss Pang. When he and the wolf started back in on a game of tug-of-war with the crutch, Emily stepped between them.

“This is not taking it easy, Mr. Cartier,” she scolded between giggles. “Not to mention that you’re getting that bandage dirty.” As it still needed to be changed twice a day, he had continued to wear his one-legged buckskins. Using her foot, Emily scooted the wolf out of her way.

John glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with merriment. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yes, Miss Emily,” he said, trying to sound like a properly chastised schoolboy.

“Don’t try that look with me. It won’t work. You’re no little boy.”

“No?” He grinned. “What am I, Sunshine?” The world seemed to stop as they stared at one another.

“A handsome man,” she said softly, unable to stop herself.

The golden sunlight slid over the slightly paler skin of his freshly shaved jaw—he’d taken off the beard this morning—and his strong white teeth flashed. The wicked humor in his eyes, and the wide grin, made him all the more appealing. And heart-stoppingly, breath-takingly handsome, not in a pretty, polished sort of way, or with the molded perfection of her golden warrior, but something grander.

Without his beard, the rugged strength was even more apparent in his strong jawline, and his firm chin had a deep cleft that fit the rest of his face. Also, to her surprise and pleasure, she’d discovered that he had one dimple in his left cheek that remained hidden until he grinned. Then that small little indent softened his features and gave him a boyish look. Like now. Still, she refused to let him know just how weak it made her when he grinned up at her like that.

Fang barked, breaking the spell as he hopped between them, his tail wagging furiously and his tongue lolling happily. Without warning, John reached forward and tried to grab one of the wolf’s legs with his hand. The beast nimbly hopped back, balancing on his two back legs.

It amazed Emily that the wolf didn’t seem the least bit hampered by his missing limb. Before they could start their silly game over again, Emily chased Fang off and shook her finger at John. “Enough. You’ll just rile him even more.”

And wasn’t that the truth? Their play would get rougher as both man and beast sought to be the victor in their wrestling matches. The first time she’d seen John pull one of the wolf’s feet out from beneath him, she’d been incensed on the animal’s behalf. Then she realized it was a game.

Her lips twitched. Fang didn’t need her sympathy. She’d never seen an animal so nimble. And now the wolf assumed that the pair of crutches John used was there for his own entertainment—he’d proved equally adept at tripping John up.

John grinned at her. “It’s good for him—keeps him alert. Besides, he likes it.”

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “You are incorrigible.”

“Yeah, I know.” He held up his hand. “Join me, Emily. Let’s sit a bit.”

His boyish look faded, and John became all man again. All desirable man with a love of life glowing from deep within—joy, and an inner peace she envied. One that could be hers if she reached out and took what he offered.

I can’t.
Over and over she had to warn herself not to get involved.
Too risky.
She just couldn’t take the chance. Yet she couldn’t resist taking his hand and allowing him to ease her down beside him. He gazed out across the water, and she found she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Without the beard, John Cartier looked younger, more carefree. And yet, at the same time, the strong lines of his face warned that this was a man who lived on the edge. A man who knew what he was about. A man who was strong and who had enough strength to share. As Emily had learned firsthand.

Staring at his face, she realized that his mouth gave insight into his character. The fullness of his lips and his easy smiles spoke of the humor and compassion that were part of him. Yet, of all his features, John’s eyes were her favorite. Like his dimple, when he laughed or smiled, his eyes softened his face and revealed his true personality. When he was worried or in pain, those eyes showed his vulnerability. And when he was determined—as he’d been when she’d wanted to die—his eyes were hard. This was not a man to be crossed.

As she’d quickly discovered, everything he felt was mirrored in his face. All she had to do was look into his eyes to know what he was feeling. That made him human. Approachable. Safe.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” she said. Nature and man. The combination was powerful—something she feared she’d have a hard time resisting. John glanced down at her. The humor in his eyes had been replaced by an appreciation for the world around them. Their whiskey-colored depths darkened as they roamed over her features.

“Sure is,” he agreed, his voice husky.

Ducking her head as heat crept up her cheeks, Emily felt her heart thud in response. It didn’t take much for him to cause that; even his nicknames pleased her. Lady Dawn. Or Sunshine. Each evoked powerful images, and to be compared to either was flattering. It made it difficult as she tried hard to not let her heart become involved.

As they sat, soaking up the quiet peace of the afternoon, Emily didn’t feel the need to chatter. With John it didn’t feel awkward just to sit without having to talk. She felt a soothing companionship in just being with him.

He was so different, had so many facets to his personality, and he shared them all with her. His humor lifted her spirits, and gave her a taste of what it was like to live each day with joy in one’s heart. His ability to take every moment and make the most of it while still looking to tomorrow gave her the determination to survive and find happiness someday—or at least peace. His quiet strength gave her hope that she’d be able to put the past behind her and make her own way in the world.

With her parents, she’d spent all of her time trying to stay in the background, afraid to draw attention to herself. There’d been no joy, no excitement, nothing to look forward to. No dreams. Those, she’d learned early on, led to disappointment and a crushing of the spirit. It was better not to hope for or to expect things that would not happen.

With her Indian warrior, she’d found joy in living each day as it came, blindly trusting and following wherever he led, content with what he gave her. But those days had been filled with mixed feelings she hadn’t recognized. Something had still been missing.

Now, being around John, she knew what it was: balance. The freedom to be herself, accepted for who and what she was. And the growing hope and dream of a better future. A future where she could venture out of her shell and explore a new and exciting world.

For the first time in her life, she was free to form her own opinions without fear of being struck. John listened. He didn’t laugh at her thoughts. He asked questions. Made her think. Made her believe in herself and gave her hope that she could find the strength to go on and take her place in the world without allowing anything to suffocate her.

Yet as much as she dreamed of this life she’d once thought out of reach, the thought of leaving here now left her scared. She wanted the freedom to follow her heart, but she didn’t know where life’s boundaries lay. She feared failure. Here, she was cocooned. She couldn’t fail. John was her safety net.

“What are you thinking about, Emily?” He tossed a stone into the river.

Emily watched the sunlight dance off the water, heard the gentle splash of the rock, and thought that there was no place on this earth so peaceful. “Before I lost my parents, I’d never just sat and did nothing but enjoy the day. Idleness was a sin to my father.” Her voice hitched. Sometimes the past angered her to the point of tears; she’d been denied so much. Reaching up, she felt the locket lying between her breasts, the only thing she had from a life that now seemed so far away.

John turned his head to look at her. “When I was a boy, my pa used to take me fishing. Said it was a man’s job to think more than he talked.” His eyes softened with past memories. “I used to think he used that as an excuse not to work or hang around and listen to my mother nag him.”

Frowning, Emily laced her fingers together. “Did your parents love each other?”

He gave her pointed look. “Yep. They died together, and I know that’s how they would have wanted it.” His voice was rough.

“But you said he went fishing because your mother nagged him.” Her mother would never have dared to nag her father. Like Emily, Beatrice had done what Timothy ordered without hesitation or question.

“It was just their way. She nagged him, he barked orders, and they both did as they pleased. They wouldn’t have had it any other way. They loved and trusted each other not to take undue advantage.”

“That seems so hard to imagine,” Emily said. But she
could
imagine two people living just like that. Hadn’t she acted in the same manner with John? She’d taken charge, stopped him from playing with the wolf because she worried about his wound. And he did the same with her: refused to let her leave the vicinity of the cabin alone, insisting on going with her, standing guard when she bathed—just in case of unexpected trouble. And as she accepted the boundaries he imposed, he accepted hers.

They fell silent again. Emily glanced up. A few fluffy clouds drifted slowly overhead. To the right, she spotted a soaring hawk. The bird dipped a wing and flew lower, right over their heads, then down along the water.

“I wonder if that’s your hawk,” she mused.

John shaded his eyes. “Might be.” A thread of sadness tinged his voice.

“I hope you hadn’t wanted him for a pet.” She worried her lower lip. She hadn’t given thought to his plans for the bird when she released it.