“Gilbert is a girl?”
“Yes, she’s a doe,” Lance said with a smile. “But she looks so much like this guy I knew in high school, I had to name her after him. He had very unique teeth, large and white.”
Brook didn’t return the smile like Lance expected. He thought he must be losing his touch.
“So, you got the cougar?” Brook changed the subject.
“Yes. I didn’t know if she’d come back to her kill, since I left my scent all over the place. But, she did come back. And I got her. A lion in heat has the most haunting scream. It’ll make your hair stand on end.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. I think I may have heard that scream,” Brook said slowly. “While I was lost. But, I thought it was something else.”
“Like maybe a woman?” Lance asked with a good-natured smirk, thinking about how she had thought he was holding a woman.
“I thought they killed Gina,” Brook murmured.
“Gina? Is there someone else out there I should be looking for?” Lance’s demeanor turned serious and he started toward his coat.
“What? No, no! Gina was one of their girlfriends. I don’t want to talk about it.” After a small silence, she asked. “What did you do with her, the lion?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” Lance threw her a cautious look, thankful he didn’t need to traipse around through deep snow looking for another lost person.
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being so touchy about the goat.” Brook slipped her legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward. “Really, I won’t be bothered to hear a vicious predator was taken down. I hate predators. Hate them.”
“Okay. I shot her and left the carcass for scavengers. Normally, I’d try to save the coat, but I decided not to take the time.”
Brook stared at Lance as if seeing him for the first time, the look of fear momentarily gone from her face. “You have an interesting life.”
“Yes, I do.” Lance acknowledged, glad to see her looking less sorrowful. “And getting more interesting by the day.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and Brook gave a small smile in return. “Now, I bet you could use a visit to the bathroom and then we can rustle up some supper. I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry I could eat a moose.”
“Please tell me you don’t have a pet moose named Lori Ann,” Brook laughed softly.
“Hmm, now that’s an idea. I’ll have to think on how to tame a moose.” He smiled, lifted her from the bed and carried her toward the bathroom. Noticing Brook wince from discomfort reminded him of his medication supply. “I should mention something probably; I only have one tranquilizer left. If you need it, I can maybe cut it in half. When it’s gone, that’s all there is. Then we’re down to just pain pills and aspirin. I saved some pain pills from the time I had a bad tooth. They’re a few years old, so I can’t vouch for their effectiveness. So, what will it be? Do you want the rest of the tranquilizer?”
“I don’t think I need another one right now,” Brook answered.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” His face was close to hers.
“I still hurt a lot,” she admitted, looking away. “But, I want to try and get by without the drugs."
“Okay,” he said. “But let me know anytime the pain gets to be too much for you. You can always take more aspirin, if you want something a little lighter.”
“Lance,” she said and then hesitated. They were just outside the bathroom door, her arms draped over his shoulders. Mingled with her discomfort at his nearness was a deep sense of gratitude. She struggled for words. He waited patiently for her to speak. “Thank you. For everything. I think you saved my life.”
“It’s okay.” He was humble, maybe even a little shy, as they entered the small bathroom. “Well, here you go,” he said. “Do you want to try and stand?”
“Yes. I can take it from here, I think.”
He lowered her carefully to her feet, watched her grimace as they made contact with the floor, and reached out to steady her. She waved him away and he stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.
When she was returned to the bed, Lance tried to engage her in conversation as he worked in the kitchen. Her replies were unenthusiastic, and he soon gave up. During the meal, however, she laid her fork aside and cleared her throat, ready to speak.
"There are things I should tell you. I know that," she said, voice low. "I'm sure you want to know what happened. But, I just can't go into all that. Not yet."
"There's no hurry." Lance took another bite, chewed slowly. He followed that with a drink. "No hurry at all."
A look of relief passed over her bruised face and they finished eating in relative silence.
After supper, Lance walked to a high shelf in the corner, and turned on a radio. “I only listen once in a while. I don’t like to waste the batteries,” he explained. “Plus, reception up here is tricky. I can’t move the radio even a fraction of an inch from this very spot or I lose the station.” He left the volume low and soft acoustic sounds filled the room. Together with the cold winds whispering outside and the warm hiss and sputter of the fire inside, the little cabin assumed a safe, homey feel. “I like this folk station,” Lance continued. “They play a lot of songs that never make it into the mainstream. I enjoy hearing music I’ve never heard before.”
Brook drifted as the soft strums and sweet mountain voices soothed her hurts and sorrows. She leaned back against the pillows and let relaxation steal over her.
The meal, a savory casserole of some kind, had been served with flaky biscuits slathered in butter, and roasted sweet potatoes. Either Lance was the most talented cook in the known world, or her days of deprivation had sharpened her senses. Every meal he fed her was tastier than the last. With a full stomach, a warm soft bed, and the cozy sounds in the background, Brook felt almost contented in spite of her injuries and fears. When memories of the horrors tried to pop into her mind, she forcefully shut the door on them.
Lance sat in the rocker and worked at some small project, holding it now and again under the lantern for closer scrutiny. They did not talk, but there was no awkwardness. They listened companionably to the wind, the fire, and the music. Brook’s eyes grew heavy and she slept, unaware when Lance blew out the lanterns, shut off the radio, and turned in for the night.
Chapter 29
Early the next morning, Brook woke to the sound of Lance coming through the front door, his clothes lightly sprinkled with snow and his cheeks ruddy. He placed more firewood in the box before slipping out of his coat.
On the bedside table sat a tiny metal tree. Its branches caught the lantern light and twinkled appealingly. Brook stared, momentarily mesmerized. “What is this?”
Lance glanced over. “Well, good morning. I thought you might like something to look at while you recuperate.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” Lance said, turning away shyly.
“Made it?” Brook reached out and picked up the tree. The trunk was made of brass machine nuts, slightly offset from one another and getting smaller as they got higher, giving it a gnarly appearance. Twisted wire branches rose from the center, some spreading out wide and some closer to the trunk. Scattered along the branches were small watch parts, tiny gears and wheels adding interest to the wire. At the end of each branch was a tiny sprocket from which dangled fine filament gold chains. The base of the tree had twisted wire roots for support. The piece was meticulously assembled and a mere seven inches tall. Brook couldn’t see how all the parts were held together but she was thrilled with the outcome. “It’s a weeping willow.” She ran her hand under the strands of chain, letting them slide over her fingers in a soft cascade. “This is beautiful. How did you think to make something like this?”