The sky had darkened as the day wore on, black clouds making the surrounding forest darker by the minute, and the temperature was dropping. He needed to find shelter before they were caught in a storm out in the open.
A soft tap on his arm drew his attention. Daisy pointed off to their left when he looked her way. He saw only trees until a flash of lightning lit the sky. In the distance, a lone structure stood among the brush. It was hard to tell if it was a house or a barn, not that it mattered. It was something in a forest full of nothing. He smiled and said, “You may have just saved us from sleeping on wet ground.”
The light was dim inside the forest, and he wasn’t sure she could see his lips well enough to make out what he’d said, but it didn’t matter. He motioned in the direction she’d pointed with his head, and she followed when he started that way. The brush and trees were scarcer around the structure, and the closer they walked toward it, the more he could see. It looked to be a small cabin or a line shack, abandoned for years by the look of it.
They both stopped when they reached it. The weathered boards were warped, the roof sagging, and the front door was open, which meant there might be critters living inside. Was it safe to sleep in? Probably not, but as the sky lit again with lightning, he knew they had little choice but to use it.
He turned back to face Daisy and motioned for her to stay put before heading into the cabin. There wasn’t anything inside other than a crumbling fireplace and leaves. His boots hitting the floorboards were loud in the stillness as he walked in. Nothing scurried out when he did, which was good. It took a few minutes to brush the debris away with his foot, but once it was cleared, it wasn’t half bad. At least it was dry.
A rumble of thunder shook the walls, the sky lighting up around him. He jumped; the noise startling him, and he turned to the door. Daisy was still where he’d left her, but she was staring up at the sky. He knew she couldn’t hear the thunder, but the lightning was enough to tell her it was going to storm.
She looked his way when he started toward the door. He motioned her inside and watched her inspect the room once she entered. Her expression didn’t change, so he wasn’t sure what she thought about sleeping there. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, the crack of thunder that followed telling him the storm was overhead. The rain started a few moments later, fat drops that hit the ground hard and dripped into the cabin from the sagging roof.
The corner near the fireplace remained dry, so he motioned her in that direction and leaned back against the wall before sliding down it to sit on the floor. Daisy did the same, sitting beside the fireplace so their feet were touching. Neither said a word as they watched it rain through the open doorway and drip into the cabin.
He blew out a breath, fatigued more than usual. The lack of food was the cause, if he had to guess. Well, that and the beating those no-good bandits had given him. But as tired as he was, he could only imagine how exhausted Daisy was. Her hair was falling down again, and she looked as unkempt as he’d ever seen her. Dirt smeared the front of her dress where she’d tried to clean the mushrooms they’d found, and a small smudge was on her right cheek, but she was still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
The rhythmic pounding of rain on the tin roof drew his eyelids down. He set his hat beside him and leaned his head back against the wall, dozing off to sleep until he heard Daisy’s stomach grumble. Her eyes were closed when he glanced at her. He tried giving her every nut and berry they'd found, but she’d insisted he eat them too. Her stomach growling told him he’d given in way too easily.
Rain still pelted the earth. He looked back at the door and watched it for a few minutes, his eyelids getting heavier by the second. Sleeping while sitting up was easy when you were tired, and it didn’t take long to doze back off, but Daisy grabbing his arm and digging her fingernails into his skin startled him awake some time later.
His eyes snapped open, his head turning toward her, and the look on her face made his heart skip a beat. She was staring at the doorway, her mouth wide. He turned, expecting a wild animal, but the Indian standing just inside the door made his blood run cold.
Over the years, he’d seen more than a few of them, always at a distance, thankfully, so this man being so close was unnerving. He was staring at them, the look on his face telling him he was as shocked to see them as they were at seeing him.
Several long minutes passed before he moved, easing his way to the opposite corner from where they sat and sliding down the wall to the floor. He winced when he did, the muscles in his jaw clenching ever so slightly, but he never took his eyes off of them.
Daisy was still digging her nails into his arm, and he was sure she’d gouge the blood right out of him if he didn’t break her hold. Reaching for her hand, he pried her fingers loose. Her worried expression when she looked up at him told him of her fear, and he did the only thing he could think of in the moment. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer to his body. She snuggled against his side without a word, hanging on as if he’d get away if she let go, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feel of her in his arms. Even faced with an Indian, having her so close felt—right.
The three of them did nothing but stare at each other, the rain outside not letting up. Clay couldn’t blame the man for seeking shelter. He looked soaked to the bone, so it was hard to tell how long he’d been out in the storm. The two of them already being there was just a terrible stroke of luck, but as they watched each other, Clay could see the shallow breaths the man was taking. What he thought was rainwater on his forehead now looked like sweat as it wasn’t going away. The stiff way he was sitting also struck him as—odd.
Clay ran his gaze over the Indian from head to toe, taking in his buckskin pants and shirt. A spot of staining near his waistline kept drawing his attention. It seemed misplaced, but it may have been dyed that way. He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, staring at each other while the rain pounded against the run-down cabin, but he realized his shoulders had relaxed, more comfortable now than he had been when the man first showed up. He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, but he didn’t think he was going to harm them.
When the light was so dim he could barely see, he registered movement by the Indian. It wasn’t much, just a shifting of his arms. He lifted the side of his shirt, where he’d seen the red coloring, and Clay knew the instant he exposed his skin that he was hurt.
The red stain he’d seen on his shirt was blood.
The only Indian Daisy had ever seen was Morning Dove, a native woman who used to live in Silver Falls. She’d been quiet and kept to herself, but didn’t look much different from the man sitting across the cabin from them. Their clothing was the same style, his long hair braided as hers had always been. And just like Morning Dove, he didn’t seem to be a threat. It might have been because he was injured. Blood oozed from his side when he lifted the edge of his shirt, but from the distance and the dim light in the cabin, she couldn’t tell if something or someone had shot or attacked him. Hopefully, it wasn’t the couple they’d stayed with overnight. From what Clay alluded to, they were killing and eating people.
A shiver ran up her spine at the thought, and the arm Clay had around her shoulder tightened. The fear she’d felt when she first saw the Indian was now gone, and she realized how close she and Clay were. She was almost in his lap, and she should have been embarrassed. She wasn’t. His hold on her was tight, and it felt nice. More than nice. She hoped they stayed like that all night.
The Indian was making slight movements now, trying to look at his side while keeping his eyes on them. It was as if he didn’t want them to know about his injuries. She could understand why. An injury showed vulnerability and made you easier to kill. Not that Clay would kill him. At least she didn’t think he would. Not unless provoked, and at the moment, the Indian was no threat.
They all three seemed to relax as the minutes ticked by, the tension everyone was feeling dissipating. She didn’t know how long they sat like that before her stomach gurgled. She was so hungry and could only imagine the noise it was making.
The Indian pulled the bag he had with him closer to him and rummaged through it, pulling a small leather pouch from within. To her shock, he sat up and threw it across the room at them.
Clay didn’t move to pick it up until the man motioned to it with his head. He let go of her and leaned out to grab it, pulling it close. She could smell what was inside it the moment he opened the pouch. It was dried meat. Clay confirmed it when he pulled a piece out. Venison, if she had to guess. Her brother-in-law, Graham, hunted with his brother Gideon, and they smoked some of the meat to make deer jerky. It was always good, if not a bit spicy.
Clay looked back across the room, and the Indian nodded at the pouch again. He was offering them food. Vulnerable as he was, he was giving them something to eat. Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle. Clay may have had reservations about eating it, but she didn’t. She took the strip of meat from his hand and stuck it in her mouth without a second thought.
It wasn’t until she’d bitten a piece off and started chewing that she wondered if it was tainted. Would the Indian poison them? She watched him and decided, no, he wouldn’t. He was in pain. His expression told her as much, and besides, he had no reason to harm them. They’d not made a move since he’d walked in the door. Clay finally took a piece of the jerky and started eating. It was good and had a few spices she didn’t recognize.
The Indian closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. His breathing still looked funny. The pain he felt was no doubt the cause, and he’d yet to do anything about his bleeding wound. When they’d finished the jerky, she whispered, “He’s not moved in a while.”
Clay nodded and pointed to his side, asking if she’d seen the man’s wound. She had. The red blotch on his shirt was getting bigger, the material soaking up the blood.
The fact he hadn’t moved in a while was troubling. Was he sleeping or had he passed out from pain? Not that it mattered. With the amount of blood he was losing, he’d be dead by morning, anyway. Before she could talk herself out of it, she let go of Clay and stood. He grabbed her hand the moment she did.
