"Light another fire. Use the coals to burn out the center of a block of wood. Then there will be less to carve."
"Do your women make wooden buckets?"
"No, but if you wait for me to do it, we'll no longer need it."
Alanna hoped he was referring to his recovery precluding the necessity of a bucket, rather than anything more dire. "Do you think you could eat some fish?"
The mere mention of food made Hunter's stomach lurch, and he shook his head. "I just want to sleep."
Anxious to relieve his pain, Alanna remained kneeling at his side. Believing the knife wound in his leg must have become infected, she blamed herself for not knowing how to take better care of him. He was strong and had been in obvious good health, before he had been hurt. If the infection did not worsen, then he had an excellent chance to survive, but, God forbid, if he developed blood poisoning, not even a highly skilled physician could save him.
"I'm going to get busy on the bucket," she announced. "Then I can bring plenty of water from the lake to keep you cool. I'll just rip more cloth from the bottom of my chemise to make compresses."
Hunter opened one eye. "No more lace."
Alanna rose and brushed the dust from her skirt. "If that's all you have to complain about, you're fortunate indeed."
Hunter reached out to catch her hem in a feeble grasp. "Thank you," he mumbled.
"For such an obstinate man, you have endearing ways." Alanna waited a moment, but when Hunter remained silent, she went to scour the surrounding woods for a log small enough to be made into a bucket. She found some raspberry vines first, and picked so many succulent berries, she had to carry them back to the clearing in her skirt. She hoped Hunter would feel up to eating some later, but for now, she left them piled within his reach and went back into the woods.
By the time she had found a suitable piece of wood and fashioned a bucket using Hunter's helpful tip, his temperature had risen. She used the crude wooden pail to carry water to continually remoisten the compresses she placed on his forehead, chest, and legs, but she feared she had not begun using them soon enough to be effective. She encouraged him to eat berries whenever he awoke, and he swallowed a few, but she knew it wasn't nearly enough nour
ishment to sustain a man of his size.
"Could you eat some of Blind Snake's jerky?" Having had no time to fish, she had sampled it herself and found its smoky flavor good. "I could cut it into tiny bites for you."
"No, I would still have to chew and then swallow."
His expression was blank, and his eyes were glazed by the fever, but Alanna nevertheless got the distinct impression that he was teasing her. She replaced the compress on his forehead and then let her fingertips graze his cheek. "You are going to get well, Hunter. You're much too stubborn not to."
Hunter was far more worried about her than he was about himself. She had used his line to fish, and had sparked a fire with the flint he carried. She still had boots, if she chose to wear them, and a woolen shawl to keep warm. She was a clever girl and would survive without him.
"If you must leave here alone—" he began.
Alanna protested instantly. "I'll not leave you."
Hunter stared at her, unable to comprehend how she had misunderstood his meaning. "If I die," he explained slowly, "go south. Follow the Mohawk to the trading post."
Alanna wanted to argue that his instructions were unnecessary, but she knew it would only tire him, and simply nodded. "I seem to bring bad luck everywhere I go," she said instead. "My family's gone, and two of my cousins. Don't you leave me, too, Indian."
Hunter reached out for her hand. While he could not be blamed for the slaughter of her family, he knew Melissa's and Elliott's deaths could more easily be blamed on his influence than hers. "I am the one who spreads death," he argued, "not you. Be careful."
"Of what? You?"
Lacking the energy for a lengthy debate, Hunter closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he again looked up at her, he knew precisely what to say. "Blind Snake was trying to kill me, not Elliott, and I was the one he came to kill yesterday. If death comes for me again, do not stand in the way."
Alanna surveyed the open clearing with an anxious glance. Had Blind Snake opened fire on them from the adjacent woods, they would not have had a chance. "Do you have more enemies who might be stalking us?"
"Only death," Hunter revealed.
"You don't mean a person, just the possibility?" When Hunter nodded, Alanna again removed the compress from his forehead, dipped it into the pail, squeezed it out, and laid it over his brow. "I have much better things to do than bury you," she scoffed. "There's your son to raise for one. We've not had any time to talk about him."
"Christian?"
"That's right." Alanna replaced the compress on his chest, before she continued, "He's a splendid little boy, Hunter. He looks so much like you. I know you'd be proud of him."
Hunter tried to picture the infant in his mind, but all he saw was the fierceness of Melissa's expression, when she had threatened an accusation of rape should he ever reveal they had been lovers. He didn't want that spiteful bitch's child. Surely Christian would scorn him as readily as his mother had. "I have no son," he denied.