Page 21 of A Rugged Beauty
Thunder rumbled from the clouds gathering on the horizon behind her. She didn’t understand how it could rain when the cold air felt so dry. Or maybe the storm was far away. She huddled deeper beneath the fragrant cedar boughs H had cut with his knife.
She'd seen the nicks in his hands, the scraped knuckles. A pocketknife wasn't the right tool to cut away the branches and boughs, but he'd done it anyway. And it was a good thing, because this cool air had pushed through as their bonfire had winked out.
Even with the extra insulation of the branches, she couldn’t seem to get warm. She shivered beneath the shelter, hugging herself, while H lay near the fire. In the dim, flickering light, she saw his body quivering, too.
Was he asleep? It had been dark for a long time, but she'd been unable to quiet her mind. Thoughts of the unknown, what they might face tomorrow, kept her from sleep, even though her body was exhausted.
When another rumble of thunder broke the silence, she shifted beneath the branches. H's head turned slightly.
Awake, then.
She slipped from beneath the scratchy branches. He caught her movement and sat up. As she drew closer, the flickering firelight highlighted the lines of concern around his eyes.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
She shook her head.
He looked surprised for the barest moment when she folded her legs beneath her and sank to the ground beside him.
The fire popped, the scent comforting. But the warmth only extended to the tip of her nose and brushed her cheeks.
She couldn't stop shivering.
But when he unbuttoned his slicker and opened it as if he was going to take it off, she shook her head. He couldn't be any warmer than she was. It wasn't a winter coat.
Instead of taking it off, he extended his arm. When she leaned closer, he tugged her into the curve of his body, letting the coat enclose as much of her as it could.
Heat from his body seared her as she nestled into him. His arm was a comforting weight over her shoulders and she let her cheek rest against his chest. After those first few hours, her wariness had seeped away.
It seemed… natural to trust him. He was protective, he watched over her. He constantly scanned the horizon and had warned her about the berries.
H had made her feel safe.
His chest rose and fell, his hand flexed against her elbow. Some tension eased out of him. Had he been worried about her? Or was he soaking in the warmth of sitting close like this, too?
Another low rumble of thunder. This one quieter. Farther away? Today as she’d ranged farther and farther afield in search of firewood, she’d seen the cracked ground, all the summer grasses dead or dying.
H had been right when he'd said earlier this afternoon that if it rained, her shelter wouldn't provide much cover. The fire would be doused in a strong rain, though it seemed less and less likely that they would see any moisture tonight.
"We can't stay here," she murmured.
"No, we can't." His chest rumbled beneath her ear.
There was no use wishing someone had come for them today. There was only the fear of the unknown, not knowing what would happen tomorrow. What if they never found anyone? What if they walked into danger?
Or what if they searched for help in the completely wrong direction?
He must've felt her rising tension as questions and worries swirled, but he didn't try to comfort her with platitudes. His hand rubbed up and down her arm, sending goosebumps skittering down her spine. Then he clasped his hand over her elbow, a steady weight that was more comforting than any words.
"Where do you think we are?" she whispered.
She'd seen him flipping through the small, leather-bound book as he'd tended the bonfire.
"Nebraska Territory, maybe. Or Utah Territory. Near as I can figure it from these notes, at least. And that's if I calculated the miles up correctly."
They truly were in the wilderness. Miles from civilization.
"It's possible we were part of a wagon train. The notes in this book seem to indicate stopping places to allow animals to graze."
