The wind was still blowing the next day. The only way Merlin could tell it hadn't stopped snowing was that the drifts grew each time he went out to dig his way to the barn. By the end of the day, his shoulders and arms ached and the skin of his face felt flayed.
The scent of fresh bread filled the cabin when he finally went in for good. A round, golden loaf sat on the small table.
Cal looked around when he entered. "You look like a snowman." There was just the hint of a giggle in her voice. He had to smile himself, just at hearing it. Laughter was not something she seemed in the habit of.
"I did my best to shake it all off, but looks like I didn't succeed." He removed his ice-encrusted coat and hung it on the back of a chair, which he set near the fire. "This be in your way?"
"No. Once I get this set just right, I'm done here for an hour." She scooted the Dutch oven--where had that come from?--into the coals and used the scuttle to heap more atop it.
"I went exploring," she said when she'd placed it to her satisfaction and was brushing ashes off her hands. "There's all sorts of interesting stuff stored up in the loft. Besides the Dutch oven, there's a churn with a broken paddle, a rocking chair, and a cradle."
Her voice changed at the last word, making his ears prickle. She sounded almost...yearning?
He sat to pull off his boots. They were well enough oiled that they weren't exactly wet, but his feet would warm quicker without them. "I looked up there when I was settling in, but didn't pay attention to the truck piled off in the corner. According to Murphy, there's been a series of men living here for the last few years."
"A woman lived here once." She kept her back to him.
He went to her, laid his hands on her shoulders. "Cal, what's wrong?"
"I don't know. Something about the cradle--"
"Whatever baby used it is probably all grown up by now. This cabin's been here a spell."
"Or dead," she whispered.
He turned her and wrapped his arms around her. "That's a pretty pessimistic view of things. What makes you think the baby's dead?"
"My brother died. He was only two months old, and one morning Ma went to get him up and he was dead. In his cradle."
What could he say? She was clearly still grieving . He patted her back.
"Pa didn't know about the baby when he left. He'd been so...peculiar ever since he came back from the War. Sometimes he'd sit at the table and stare into the fire all day long. Other times he'd act happy, laughing and joking all the time. But those times got farther and farther apart. Finally, one day he told Ma he was strangling and he had to go away."
"Strangling? What a peculiar thing to say."
"I've thought so too. I still remember him stranding there in the middle of the kitchen. He looked almost crazy, with his hair standing up where he'd run his hands through it and his eyes kind of wild. "'I'm strangling on respectability, Emma. Out there--in the War--I learned to be a savage, a killer. I learned to plunder and pillage and...worse.'
"He didn't say goodbye. He just walked out. It was a long time before he even wrote. And when he did, it was just to tell us where he was. Ma said he'd send for us, when he got settled. But he never did. When I got to Virginia City he--"
She whispered something.
Nudging her chin up, he said, "What was that again?"
"He said he wished I hadn't come."
What else could he do? He kissed her, in an effort to show her she mattered to him. even if she hadn't to her father.
Because she was nearly his height, he found her mouth without hesitation. Her lips were as soft, her body against his as sweet as he'd remembered. Merlin forgot to comfort and simply enjoyed.
The breath came from her in a small moan. He slipped his tongue between her parted lips and tasted mint and something else. Something uniquely Cal.
He explored her teeth, touched the tip of her tongue, which quickly retreated.
She pulled away. "That's not a kiss, not with your tongue."
"It is, but only if you want it to be." Tightening his arms around her, he let her feel how his doowhacker was standing at attention. "Only if you want it to be."
He'd been coming to this moment ever since he'd seen her standing in a lighted doorway and known who she was. Maybe he'd been heading this way even longer, because of all the girls and women he'd known in his life, she was the one who had stuck in his mind, as often and as strong as his sisters and Lulu, but... Different.
"I think this is what Mrs. Flynn told me to beware of," she said. "A sweet talking man with only one thing on his mind."
He laughed. Couldn't help it. "Likely so. But I didn't say anything all that sweet." Leaning his forehead against hers, he moved his head just enough so the tips of their noses rubbed together.
"Sometimes you talk sweet. And you saved my life. More than once. Ever since the time back in Eagle Rock."
"My Uncle Silas would say that means I'm responsible for you. He says it's a Chinese Obligation."
Her chuckle surprised him. "Why Chinese?"
"It's a long story, one for another day." The woman hunger was on him, hotter than it had ever been. Pa, you warned me there'd come a time I couldn't think straight, and this may be it. What am I to do? Cal's a good woman.
She moved just then, and the pressure of her soft breasts against his chest was almost too tempting. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to step back. "I-I've got work to do. The mules--"
"Yes, of course. And I've got baking..." She looked up from under those thick, dark lashes.
He caught a glimpse of green. Was she laughing at him?
* * * *
Callie came out of sleep instantly.
Something's wrong.
Beside her, Merlin snored softly. He'd told her how the scars from the cougar bite had changed the shape of his nose, more inside than out. If he slept too long on his right side he had trouble breathing.
Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing shallow, she listened. Something had disturbed her sleep. A noise? Yes, but what kind of noise? It hadn't been the wind. She'd grown used to the way it rattled the lid to the woodbin, whistled in the chimney.
Closing her eyes, she tried to hear it in memory. A squeak? Yes, like snow made when it was cold. It must have come from right outside the window near the head of the bed. She probably wouldn't have noticed if it had come from the other side of the cabin.
After a while she felt her mind wandering in the drifting, floating way it did when she was falling asleep. And then she heard the squeak again. Not so loud this time. If she hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed it.
Wind sang across the chimney top and the latch rattled.
Had Merlin remembered to bar the door? She doubted it.
The rattle came again, and this time she knew it wasn't the wind. Someone--something?--was trying to get in.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she was out of bed and across the room. The plank that served as a bar for the door was leaning against the wall under the coats. She slammed it into place.
There. You'll not get in now.
The latch stopped rattling the instant she'd picked up the plank, for the end of it had struck her boots and toppled one. Leaning against the door, she strained to hear who--what?--was outside.
The wind gusted again, and suddenly ceased its howl, almost as if it had been turned off at the source. She felt the difference on her bare feet, for the drafts that had been playing across the floor for two days were gone. There was a softness to the night's silence, as if all sound was muffled by new-fallen snow.
Moving carefully, she set her ear against the door. She'd counted to a hundred fifty-nine before she heard the squeaking noise again, loud at first, but fading, as if someone was walking away from the cabin.
One step after another, growing fainter with each one.
Murphy?
Or someone else?
She'd bet Murphy was snug in his bed across the road. She wouldn't lay odds on some of the teamsters. Most were older and seemed like decent sorts, but there had been a couple, young and cocky, who'd watched her with speculation in their eyes.
Why on earth would they come sniffing around with Merlin in the cabin?
She was shivering when she finally stopped listening, not having heard anything suspicious since the receding footsteps. Her feet were like two chunks of ice. She scurried back to bed, less afraid now the door was securely barred.
"Cal?" Merlin reached for her when she snuggled down beside him.
"Go to sleep."
His arm curved around her, pulled her tight against him. "I've got a better idea."
"You're dreaming," she said again, feeling desperate. She could feel his thing, hard against her thigh. "Go back to sleep."
But she let him pull her close. His arms around her made her feel safe.
"You've been up a while. Why?"
"I thought I heard something. Probably a coyote sniffing around."
"Huh. Maybe." He rose onto one elbow. "I want you so doggone bad," he whispered.
"It would be wrong," she whispered back. "Sinful."
"That's preacher talk. There's nothing sinful about pleasure, as long as nobody gets hurt by it."
Before she could argue--or even make up her mind if she wanted to--he'd covered her mouth with his.
The last time he'd kissed her, she'd been shocked and a little bit scared. It had felt so good, and all she could think of was Mrs. Flynn's warnings about how easy it was for a good girl to be seduced by a perfidious man.
She knew exactly what Merlin had in his mind, and it still scared her. But it tempted her. too. Oh, how it tempted her.
He was a good man, not at all perfidious, and he had promised not to take her virginity. Not unless she asked, anyway.
I won't ask, so maybe it's all right.
She opened her lips to his probing tongue.
The sound he made was like a cat's purr, filled with satisfaction and delight and encouragement. It made her want to stroke him, just as she would a cat. Unable to resist, she slid her hands across his shoulders, up into his hair, loose tonight and silky.
He slipped one hand between them and cupped her breast. His fingers plucked at her nipple, sending tremors through her, making her breath hitch. Nothing had ever felt quite so...so wonderful.
A tiny voice far back in her mind said, Anything feels that good has to be sinful.
She liked Merlin's notion better.
He spread his hand across her chest, held it there for a moment, right over her heart. She knew he could feel it tripping wildly, as if she'd been running. She realized she'd been holding her breath, and let it go with a gusty exhalation.
"Scared?" His voice was low, just above a whisper, and deep, pitched much lower than usual. His knee pushed between her legs, but her nightgown held it from going far.
"No."
The next thing she knew his hand was hot on her thigh. She stiffened. "Yes." It came out a long hiss as she pulled air between clenched teeth.
"Don't be. I keep my promises." Now his hand was between her thighs.
Instinctively she clenched them together, trapping his fingers. "Maybe."
"Maybe? Maybe what?" He wiggled his fingers but didn't try to force her legs open.
"Maybe I...should be...scared. "
"Not as long as you keep your legs together." He chuckled, but she heard strain in his voice. "That's what Ma told my sisters, anyhow."
For some reason his words made her relax. "Did they?"
"You'll have to ask them. That's not something a man wants to know about his sisters." He pulled his hand from under her gown, gently smoothed it over her legs, and lifted the other hand from her chest. "I reckon this isn't such a good idea. If I don't stop now, I'll break my promise sure."
This was nothing like what she'd been warned against. "You're stopping?" This time she was the one to rear up on an elbow. Even though all she could see was the pale oval of his face, she glared down at him.
Her body thrummed. There was an ache below her belly one she'd only noticed when he took his hands away, but she knew it had been there since he kissed her. She'd just been too nervous to pay attention.
"Merlin?"
His eye was closed.
"Did you do this on purpose? Make me feel all... All stirred up. Hungry?"
"Sweetheart, you don't know what stirred-up is. When you let go my hand, I came so close--" He rolled away from her.
"So close? To what?"
"To buryin' myself to the hilt in your sweet heat." He inhaled sharply. "Oh, hell."
She felt his body jerk once, twice, heard him groan.
After a minute, he said, "Can you reach my clothes? I need my kerchief."
He'd set a chair beside the bed and his clothing was hung on the back. She fumbled, pulled his bandanna from where he'd tucked it into a shirt pocket. "Here you are."
He took it without turning over.
Mystified, she lay back down. He was fussing, but she didn't know with what. He hadn't blown his nose. Finally curiosity got the best of her. "What are you doing? What happened?"
"I protected your virtue," he said, and didn't sound too happy about it.
* * * *
Come morning Merlin managed to creep out of bed without waking Cal. Or if she was awake, she was shamming sleep. Probably embarrassed. He sure was.
What the dickens had come over him, grabbing her like he had? He'd given a promise and meant to keep it, no matter how troublesome it was.
Troublesome it had been, and darned uncomfortable. He'd slept the rest of the night in a wet spot.
"The Army's on its way," Murphy said when he entered the barn a while later. He held a tin cup, its contents steaming. "They're sending troopers over to help clear the drifts so we can open the barn doors."
"Good. Any chance they'll help us dig out those wagons too?" He'd taken a look this morning at the makeshift drift fence when he'd gone out to fill the first tub with snow. Some of the drifts extended ten or twelve feet into the corral, almost entirely burying the fence. Left alone, pretty soon they'd be frozen hard enough the mules could walk right across. "I don't hanker to spend the next week with a shovel in my hands."
"I'll ask." Backing up to the forge, Murphy hunched his shoulders. "I'd hoped it would warm up now the wind's dropped. Don't look like it's going to, though."
"It's clouding over. I reckon it won't get any colder, anyhow." Merlin gave the bellows handle a couple of pulls. "We need a coal delivery, if we're going to keep the forge going. How likely is it we'll get one today?"
"If Haskins knows the road's passable, he'll get a wagon out here. I'll send Jeb in this morning."
"Do you know for sure it's passable?"
Murphy set his empty cup down and picked up a pitchfork. "Likely it's only drifted at the railroad embankment. Jeb can help Haskins' boy dig through the worst of the drifts."
The snow in the tub was almost all melted. Merlin reached for the shovel, but paused and said, "Were any of the men out and about in the night?"
Murphy looked at him curiously. "In the night? Before midnight?"
"No, more like two, three in the morning. I'm not sure of the time, but it was late." He waited, unmoving, while Murphy cogitated.
At last he said, "Ollie and Nance came in about eleven-thirty. The fools rode in to town, and damn near froze doing it. Nobody else was out, not that I know of, anyhow. Why?"
"Somebody was. They poked around the cabin, tried the shutters and the door. Left tracks all 'round the barn, too, but I didn't see any sign they came inside."
Murphy shrugged. "Some bum lookin' for a warm bed, I'll bet. We're not all that far from the tracks."
Shaking his head, Merlin swung the shovel onto his shoulder. "We're a ways from town. It doesn't seem likely a man in search of somewhere to hole up in would come out here, where there's nothing much but warehouses and barns and corrals." He went to the door, but turned before going through it. "Tell the men to keep their eyes and ears open, will you? I've got a bad feeling."
* * * *
Callie ran out of tasks before noon, even though she'd cleaned every shelf, dusted the top of every can, and washed the inside of the cabin's two windows. The only uncleaned thing in the cabin was the loft, and she was considering climbing up there when Merlin entered, stomping snow from his boots.
"How big are your father's feet?"
She could only gape.
"Shut your mouth before you catch a fly." He sat and began unlacing a boot. "Does he have big feet? Wide or narrow?"
"Why?"
He began on the second boot. "Just answer me, will you?"
"Pa's got really small feet, for a tall man. I don't think they're as big as mine, but they're wider." Her feet were a source of embarrassment, being long and narrow. "Why?"
Before he answered, he set both boots close to the hearth and stood with his back to the fire, hands behind him. "Whoever was creeping around here last night had big feet, a couple of inches longer than mine."
"Why'd you ask about my father's feet?"
"Just a notion. Do you think he might come back, looking for you?"
Her belly clenched. "I hope not," she said. It came out a whisper. She tried to find enough spit to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. "I hope I never see him again."
Almost before she'd closed her mouth, she was wrapped in his arms. He rocked her, side to side, back and forth. As he moved, he said, close to her ear, "He won't get another chance to abandon you, Cal. Not while I'm between you and him."
Unable to speak, she nodded, rubbing her nose against the scratchy wool of his shirt. He smelled of mule and sweat. And safety.
After a while he stopped rocking her. "All right?"
"I think so. Oh, Merlin, he scares me." She hadn't admitted, even to herself, how frightened she was of her Pa. A couple of times, when he'd hit her, she'd seen the light of madness in his eyes, as if he was at the edge of control. The last time, when she'd admitted leaving the Ogden depot in search of food, he'd knocked her down. As she lay on the platform, stunned, he had loomed over her with both fists clenched, panting. For a long time she'd cowered there, knowing he was ready to hit her again...and again.
"There's something wrong with him. I think he's crazy." She clung to him when he moved to release her. "If he finds me I think he'll kill me, sooner or later."
His hands were like iron cuffs on her upper arms as he pushed her away and guided her to a chair. "Sit. We're gonna talk about this." He pulled the other chair around so it faced her. Once she was seated, he dropped into it. "You said he'd hit you a few times. Sounds to me like it was more than a few times and more than just a simple hit. What really happened, Cal?"
Staring at him, trying to see past the brown of his one eye into his thoughts, she sought the right words.
"Cal? I'm waiting."
"I told you he sent me to Mrs. Flynn when I'd been in Virginia City a little more than a week?"
His nod told her to get on with it.
"I only saw him once or twice a year while I was with Mrs. Flynn, and he was always cranky and short of temper. A couple of times he took me out walking, as if he wanted to make sure she didn't hear what he said. He never said anything that mattered, though. Just how was I getting along, and was I learning to cook, and did I have any money."
Merlin's voice had a dangerous edge to it when he said, "He took your money? How much?"
"Not much at first, but the last time he took everything I'd saved, nearly forty dollars. Mrs. Flynn gave me a dollar a month for spending money when I first started, and I never spent it all. After three years she started paying me." At the memory, she had to smile. "A dollar a week. I felt rich."
"She was cheating you, if you cooked like you do now."
"I didn't think so. Besides, she was giving me board and room and paying for my clothes."
"Like that ugly gray dress? Bet it cost her a fortune."
"Don't you bad-mouth her. Mrs. Flynn was like a mother to me."
His hands went up, as if to hold her off. "Fine. But it is an ugly dress."
"I outgrew all my clothes summer before last. Mrs. Flynn said I was too old to be growing, but I did, nearly three inches up and too much around." The around had mostly been bosom and hips, as she'd gone from stringbean to hourglass, and she'd hated it. The men in town had taken far too much notice of her, even after summer ended and she started wearing her too-big wool coat whenever she went out.
"She said she'd buy me all new when she was sure I stopped growing. But Pa came."
"Let's talk about your pa some more. Why'd he suddenly decide he wanted you with him? Seems to me he'd gone along fine without you."
"He said I was all grown up and could be useful to him." What she didn't say was that she'd been afraid of the use he might put her to, given the gossip she'd heard about him. "When I asked him how, he--"
After waiting a while for her to go on, Merlin said, "He hit you?"
"Uh-huh." And shamed she was to admit it. If she'd only kept her tongue between her teeth. She'd learned better than to question Pa even before he'd left home. So had Ma.
He leaned back and stared at her with one narrowed eye. She squirmed, waiting for him to speak again, but habit kept her silent.
"I think your pa wants you back. Whatever use he has for you, I think he's ready."
"Then you think last night--"
"I think he sent someone to see if you were here. All he'd have to do is ask in town and pretty soon he'd learn you'd moved out here. We made no secret of it."
A ball of ice seemed to grow in her belly. "No," she whispered. "No, I won't go back with him. I can't."
"No, you won't. One way or another, Cal, I promise you won't go back to your father."