The cub cried out as it tried to walk, and Rafe knew the animal couldn’t make it on its own.The leg hung at a crooked angle; it needed to be set and splinted if it was to be saved.
But would the mother let him take the cub?And if she did, could he get back to the cabin?
He moved slowly to where the cub sat, still whimpering.The mother watched carefully, but the hostility was gone.“You know I won’t hurt him now, don’t you?”Rafe said, speaking with the soft voice that had tamed Abner and gentled the bay.He reached out with his right hand and took the cub in his hand, half expecting the black bear to lunge again.It didn’t.
He started walking, the she-bear following him at a distance.The cub huddled in his arms, its small, miserable cries spurring him on.A mile … maybe more.
Think of Shea Randall, of those anxious eyes.He forced himself to keep going.One step at a time.His arm was all fiery pain now, and his head still ached from the earlier blow.And he was so very tired.He reached the clearing and fumbled in his pocket for the key to the padlock on the cabin door.His left hand was so clumsy, nearly numb, but he finally fitted the key in the lock.As the door opened, he started to fall.His left hand grabbed the edge of the door, and he managed to lower the cub to the floor, but then his body started to crumple.He felt a hand grab his arm.Such a fragile hand.Yet there was surprising strength, he thought as he made it to the cot before everything went black for the second time that day.
The feel of cool water against his skin brought Rafe back to consciousness.The feather-light touch of fingers tempted him to return into an unwelcoming world of pain.He felt so heavy, weighed down by total exhaustion.His head pounded, and his arm felt on fire.He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t obey.
“Rafe.”The voice was soft and gentle and coaxing.He couldn’t remember when anyone had said his name like that before, and it curled around inside him, warming and soothing, a balm to wounds much deeper than those on the surface of his body.
He opened his eyes to see hers.They were so near, the blue-gray color full of concern and worry.But not for him.Never for him.That wasn’t possible, could never be possible.He closed his eyes.His mouth was dry, and he tried to swallow.
“Rafe,” she said again.“You have to help me.”There was command in her voice now, unexpectedly strong.He opened his eyes again, trying to understand.
“You can … go now,” he whispered harshly, refusing to believe she would choose to stay.“I can’t … stop you.”He didn’t want her to stay.He couldn’t permit her to stay, because then … it would be her choice, and he couldn’t deal with that.As his prisoner, she had been forbidden; he had been able to maintain some distance from her, although at times he’d failed miserably.But as …
“Hush,” she said softly, her voice seeping through the denial in his mind.“This is my fault.”
“The cub …?”
“He’s in here.I need your help.I don’t know what to do.The mother is outside.She’s going back and forth.”
Rafe tried to sit.The movement made his head pound even more, and he felt a new surge of pain in his arm.He swallowed a groan but knew his lips had twisted into a grimace.He managed to lean against the wall, his gaze finding the cub cradled by blankets and clothes in a corner.
His gaze then went to his arm.The bandage he’d wrapped around it had been replaced by a piece of white linen now red with blood.His chest, he remembered, had been streaked with blood from both himself and the cub, but Shea had apparently washed it off.
Her eyes followed his.“I … sewed that cut up,” she said hesitantly, “while you were still unconscious.”
His face questioned her.
“My sewing kit.”She hesitated, apparently not knowing whether additional explanation was needed.“I’m very good at sewing.My … my mother had a hat shop.I helped her.”
Rafe tried to assimilate the information.Randall’s daughter.Hat shop.Sewing kit.He remembered it then, remembered finding it when he was searching her belongings and deciding to let her keep it.A small needle was no weapon.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Long enough for me to do that,” she said.
“Why … didn’t you leave?”
She tipped her head slightly and suddenly smiled.It was a breathtaking smile, full of a mischief he hadn’t expected in her.“The mother bear wouldn’t let me.”
“You could have let me bleed to death,” he said bluntly.He didn’t understand why she had doctored him, nor why she hadn’t left when she had the chance.She still could.He couldn’t stop a kitten from leaving now.
The mischief left her face.“Do you really think I could do that?”
“Yes,” he said grimly.“Anyone with a grain of sense would have.”
“Anyone with a grain of sense wouldn’t have followed a stranger into the mountains,” she answered mildly.“Now what do we do about that little fellow?”
“What you did with my arm,” he said.“Sew up that wound.And a splint.I’ll need a splint for its leg.Maybe we can save it.”The “we” slipped out, and he regretted it immediately.Still, it sounded … right.
She nodded.“Can you hold him while I sew?”
He didn’t know if he could hold the small bear, but he would try.He’d gone through too much for the damned animal to let it die.“Yes.”
