Winter Love Part 12

"Look, everyone will think it strange if I don't dance with you at least once."

That was just an excuse, Laura knew. He only wanted to get her on the dance floor where she couldn't get away from his threats and taunts. But he was right in one respect. It would be wondered why Taylor's wife and son ignored each other and didn't once dance together. The onlookers would come up with their own reasons, which would be many and varied.

When the music struck up again, and Fletch took hold of her arm and said, "Let's go," Laura stood up and they moved among the other dancers.

How good it feels to be in his arms, Laura thought. His own special clean male scent engulfed her, and she repressed the desire to lay her head on his chest, to lift her arm and curl it around his neck. Instead, she forced herself to hold her body stiff and well away from his.

They circled the floor once in silence. Then Fletch sneered, "If you're wondering why your friend Beltran isn't here, I saw to it that he didn't show up."

"Really? I hadn't noticed his absence."

Her tone told Fletch that she really hadn't missed Beltran. His fingers bit cruelly into her waist as he rasped angrily, "You remind me of a woman-chasing man. You tire of one lover, then move on to another. Now that you know all about lovemaking, you're choosing the older, more experienced ones."

"You mean like yourself?" Laura smiled up at him, wanting instead to slap his hateful face. "Is that what you think?"

"That's what I d.a.m.n well know, you little b.i.t.c.h, and be warned that you can't play games with Hunter O'Hara. You won't be able to drop him so easily."

"What if I decide not to drop him? He's awfully nice... and handsome," she added.

"Then he'll drop you when he tires of you."

"What if he doesn't? What will you do about it? Will you challenge him to a fight?"

Fletch gave her a suspicious look. "I see you've heard that we've tangled before. We came out pretty even that time. It was just a case of pitting our strength against each other. But if we ever go at it again, I'll beat the living h.e.l.l out of him. I'll have good cause to. I'll not let any man shame my father."

"Oh, really?" Laura's voice shook with the anger that had been building up inside her. "What about the way you have shamed him?"

"How have I ever shamed him?" Fletcher glared at her. "By seducing his wife."

Stunned by the truth of Laura's words, Fletcher could only look at Laura for several seconds. It had only struck him now that he had put horns on his father. He finally defended himself by saying, "I, unlike the other men, have known for some time that you and Pa don't have a normal marriage, so I don't feel that I shamed Pa in any way."

"Of course you don't," Laura snapped. "You wouldn't feel shame about anything."

The dance number came to an end, and before Fletcher could respond to her charge she stepped out of his arms and went back to Maida and Daniel who were still sipping their drinks. Fighting to keep his features from showing the rage inside him, Fletcher walked across the floor and sat down beside Milly. If he heard any of her complaints he paid no attention to them. When the music started up again and Hunter approached Laura and held out his hand for another dance, Fletch wordlessly stood up, pulling Milly up with him.

It was a slow dance this time, "Swanee River," and Hunter was very quiet. Laura knew by the way he talked, slow and soft, that he was from the South. She suspected that the song held sad memories for him. She looked up at him and asked softly, "Do you miss the Southland? Your home? Your family?"

She felt the ragged sigh that came up from his chest. "Yes, I miss it. I miss it terribly. But the life I once knew there is gone forever. As for family, they're all gone, and so is my home. While I was away fighting in the war the home place was burned and my father was killed trying to protect it. My mother died two weeks later from a broken heart."

"I'm so sorry, Hunter." Laura squeezed his hand. She lightly drew a finger down his scarred cheek. "Did you receive this in the war?"

"Yes, and a few other wounds also," Hunter said, bleakness in his eyes. "I spent two months in a Yankee hospital, more dead than alive."

When Laura's eyes grew misty in sympathy, he said huskily, "That was a long time ago, Laura. I'd almost forgotten it until the song brought it all back. Now smile and let's enjoy ourselves, make old Fletch squirm some."

They gave themselves over to the music, laughing and talking like everyone else. Laura was thinking that she had never enjoyed herself more when Hunter bent his head so she could hear him over the music and stomping feet as he said, "Another thing I have missed since coming north is being with a true lady. I enjoy your company very much, Laura Thomas."

"Thank you, Hunter. I enjoy the company of a gentleman for a change."

"Are you referring to Fletch?" Hunter grinned. Laura's laughter pealed out. "I sure am."

Fletch and Milly, dancing nearby, heard Laura's gay, amused laughter, and Fletch's arm tightened so hard around his partner's waist that she cried out. A few minutes later when Laura missed the couple on the dance floor, she looked across to where they had sat for most of the evening.

Milly sat there alone, a very cross look on her face.

A fast glance around the room showed Laura no sign of Fletch being in it. A pleased grin lifted the corners of her lips. He had gone off and left his lady love.

Where had he gone? Laura wondered. If he had returned to the cabin he shared with Daniel and Maida, Milly would have gone with him. Unless, of course, he had ordered her not to. He was rude enough to tell her not to follow him.

But whatever the case, a few minutes later Milly was dancing with one of the trappers, her body pressed tight against his, leaving n.o.body to guess who she would be spending the night with, or at least a good part of it.

It was growing late, the clock over the bar showing a quarter to midnight. "This will he the last dance, ladies and gentlemen," the fiddler said and drew the bow across the strings, sending out the opening notes of "Beautiful Dreamer."

"I'd like to see you again, Laura," Hunter said soberly.

"I'd enjoy that, Hunter," Laura said wistfully. He was such entertaining company. "You couldn't come to my cabin, of course, but we could run into each other sometimes." Her eyes twinkled. "Like when I go visiting Bertha. She would always give us a cup of coffee to visit over."

Hunter laughed and gave her a quick hug. "I do believe you do have some Irish in you, girl. You've got a devious little mind. What if I drop in on Bertha next Thursday around noon?"

"Make it around one o'clock. I have to make Pa's... Taylor's lunch. And I'll probably have my baby with me."

Although Hunter wondered at her slip-up, almost calling her husband Pa, he only said, "I'd like to see your little daughter. Everyone I talk to tells me how pretty she is."

"I guess you've also heard it said that Adam Beltran is her father."

"Yes, I've heard that rumor, but I could never believe that one so beautiful as you would ever have anything to do with that sneaky man. And now that I've gotten to know you, I'm convinced it isn't true."

"Thank you, Hunter," Laura said gravely, wrapping a blue shawl around her shoulders. "There are very few people in Big Pine who think that Jolie is a Thomas."

"Well, I do," Hunter said, opening the door for her. "I'll see you Thursday," he added as she left to step next door to pick up her daughter.

Ever since Fletch's threatening look had scared him off, Adam Beltran had been standing back in the pines waiting for the party to break up. He had worked UP the nerve to approach Fletch, to tell him, hoping to make him believe, that he was not the father of Laura's baby. He knew it would be difficult because he had let it go too long, and had let the village believe it.

He started when he saw Fletch leave the party long before it was over. He almost lost his nerve to speak to the big man when he saw the black scowl on his face. He could crush me with his hands, he thought as he stepped fearfully out of the shadows.

Beltran cleared his throat and called nervously, "Fletch, I'd like to talk to you a minute."

Fletch stopped in midstride and glared at the man he'd like to kill. His eyes cold and dangerous-looking, he demanded, "What could you possibly tell me that I would want to listen to?"

"I could tell you, and truthfully, that I am not the father of Laura's baby. I could tell you that I've never so much as kissed her, let alone do anything else with her."

For some reason Fletch thought Beltran was telling the truth. "Why are you telling me this now? I've been home for some time."

Adam looked away, shame and embarra.s.sment on his face. "I liked having the men think that me and Laura had been lovers. They had all tried to get next to her, and she wouldn't have anything to do with them except to flirt a little."

"Who do you think is the father of Laura's daughter?"

Adam shook his head. "I haven't the slightest idea. She never walked out with any of the men who were always hangin' round her." He waited a moment, then ventured, "Maybe the baby is Taylor's."

When Fletch made no response, Adam said, "Now, don't go gettin' mad, but it's possible that the child's father is a married man. There's a couple blond-headed Swedes in the village."

Fletch gave a grating laugh. "Yeah, one's sixty if he's a day, and the other one is fat and way past fifty."

"Well, there are some young men with light brown hair who might have been blond when they were babies. I've been lookin' around, and there are lots of fellows with blue eyes."

Fletch found it hard to continue discussing who Laura's lover might be and said sharply, "Look, Beltran, I'm satisfied that you're not the father, so let's leave it at that."

"Oh, sure," Beltran hurried to agree. "I just thought I'd mention my ideas."

Fletcher turned and walked away without further words to Adam. He didn't know whom to hate now. Thanks to the little rat, now he'd suspect any man who had blue eyes and light brown hair. It comforted him to know, though, that he could at least eliminate Hunter O'Hara. That one was as dark as Fletch himself.

d.a.m.n the man, Hunter had his eye on Laura, and she, blast her beautiful hide, was looking back at him.

When he entered the cabin a few minutes later, Fletch also d.a.m.ned the blizzard that had locked him into Big Pine until spring.

Chapter Twelve.

Hunter was on Laura's mind as she made up the bed and then began tidying up the family room. The truth of it was she thought about him a lot, but not in a romantic way. She looked on him as a very good friend, a friend she could relax with, speak her thoughts to whether they be serious or sometimes even foolish.

What puzzled her, made her think of him so often, was that he, unlike all the other single men in the village, acted as though all he was looking for from her was friends.h.i.+p.

She and Hunter had met at Bertha's pleasure house three Thursdays in a row. They had enjoyed themselves thoroughly, sitting over coffee, listening to the wild tales Bertha told about her past and present. She never mentioned names, but some of her stories about the men who came visiting her girls had Laura and Hunter holding their sides with laughter.

Laura always took Jolie and left Bertha's place first, as Hunter stayed behind another half hour. She had asked Bertha once if he used that time to visit one of her girls.

"No," Bertha answered, somewhat puzzled, "he never goes beyond my kitchen. Not that the girls wouldn't love to get that handsome devil into their beds. But he doesn't seem the least bit interested in what they offer. He's awfully nice to them, though. He sees to it that they don't get manhandled in the tavern by the drunks. The girls and I have come to the conclusion that a woman in his past hurt him so deeply that he's soured on the rest of us women."

Or maybe he still loves the woman, Laura thought, straightening up from raking the dead ashes from beneath the large grate in the fireplace.

Hunter O'Hara slipped from Laura's mind when she opened the door to set the pail of wood residue on the porch. Maida stood there, her hand raised to knock on the door. They laughed together; then Maida carefully wiped her feet before stepping into the kitchen.

"You know, Laura," Maida said, taking off her jacket and sitting down at the table, "I think that your Upper Peninsula is just as cold as my Canada is."

"Maybe it's because of the wind that blows off the lake," Laura suggested as she poured them both cups of coffee. Laura pushed a plate of cookies toward Maida and asked, "How's the gift you're knitting for Daniel coming along? Christmas is only a week away."

Maida grinned ruefully. "I shouldn't have attempted a sweater for him. He's so gosh-awful big. But I think I'll have it finished in time. I have only one sleeve left to do. Have you finished Taylor's afghan?"

"Yes, last week. I'm working on a sweater for Jolie now."

After a moment's silence Maida remarked, "I don't suppose you're going to give Fletch a gift for Christmas."

"You suppose right. Unless it's to bake him a hemlock pie."

"I do wish you two got along together," Maida said wistfully. "The four of us could get together in the evenings, play cards and cribbage. Then I wouldn't have to put up with that awful Howard person every night. Not that she bothers to talk to me and Daniel. Most of the time she acts like we're not even there as she practically crawls all over Fletch."

"He must not mind or he'd put a stop to it."

"Sometimes he does. She embarra.s.ses him a lot with her carrying on."

Laura didn't want to talk about Milly and Fletch anymore. It was too painful. She changed the subject. "I heard that two of the trappers are down with influenza. Bertha has been taking care of them, I believe."

"That's what I heard. I hope it doesn't spread. It's very contagious, you know." Laura nodded. She knew of entire families being wiped out by the virus.

The clock struck eleven and Maida drank the last of her coffee. "I've got to get home," she said. "I left a bowl of sourdough rising. It's probably ready to be shaped into loaves by now."

As Laura helped her friend into her jacket she glanced out the window and noted that there were several people going into the store. Fletch would be busy waiting on them. She decided she would take Taylor's lunch to him. She hadn't visited him but twice this week. He was probably feeling neglected.

Fletch looked startled to see her when Laura stepped inside the store, but he didn't remark on it. The three women he was waiting on gave her a cool, disdainful look as she walked past them, heading for Taylor's room.

"It's about time you came to see me," Taylor said. "Let me see that Jolie baby. I don't see her often enough."

Jolie began to squirm as soon as she heard Taylor's voice, and she was all smiles when Laura laid her on the cot and folded back the blanket she was wrapped in.

After Taylor had played with the baby awhile, he looked up at Laura and said with concern in his voice, "I think something is wrong with b.u.t.terfly. She hasn't been here for the past two nights."

An uneasiness gripped Laura as she remembered the two trappers sick with influenza. Was the Indian village in the grip of the virus? It wasn't like b.u.t.terfly to miss even one night's visit to Pa, let alone two nights running.

Laura stood up and put her jacket back on. "I'm going over to the village and find out what's keeping her away."

"Would you, Laura?" Taylor said, relief in his voice. "I know something is wrong."

"Maybe not," Laura tried to soothe him. "I won't be gone long. Jolie nursed not long ago and shouldn't fuss until I get back."

The store was empty of customers when Laura sailed through it and Fletch called after her, "Where are you going, leaving Jolie here for me to mind?"

Laura didn't bother to answer him, only slammed the door behind her.

Like the other time Laura was there, as soon as she set foot in the Indian village the pack of vicious dogs came bounding toward her, their hackles raised and barking shrilly. She waited for someone to call them off. When no one appeared, she remembered Red Fox saying that they wouldn't attack unless ordered to. Still, her pulse raced a little when she started walking toward b.u.t.terfly's wigwam, the barking dogs at her heels.

The village seemed strangely quiet, Laura thought as she called in at b.u.t.terfly's wigwam. Usually at this hour someone was stirring about outside. She had to call twice before she was huskily told to enter.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the dim interior was b.u.t.terfly lying on her pallet of furs, the covers pulled up to her chin. The next thing to catch her eye was the fire in its rock pit. It was almost out. The wigwam was decidedly cold.

"Stay back, Laura," b.u.t.terfly rasped when she started forward. "I have the white man's influenza. You must not catch it and take it back to Jolie and Taylor."