The snow was coming down hard, the accumulation heavier than Jake had predicted it would be. He'd wasted precious time making a fool out of himself with Amanda Lennox.
No, he thought, not wasted; never that. Only the making a fool out of himself part stayed firm.
He had wasted time after he'd left her at the cabin. He'd wanted to locate the brat's tracks, get a general idea of the direction they headed before snow deepened and covered them. He did eventually find the prints. As he'd suspected, they continued to head east, straight toward Pony.
What Jake hadn't expected, and wasn't at all pleased to see, was that there were now three sets of prints instead of the two they'd been following. Another rider had recently been added.
A trickle of uneasiness iced down Jake's spine. The observation was unwelcome, unwanted, yet the course the prints were taking couldn't be denied. Why the tracks were heading toward Pony was a puzzle he'd yet to solve. Hadn't Amanda said that was where she and her cousin were heading? Yup. So why would whoever had kidnapped Roger be taking him to the same place the brat had originally been heading? Really, why kidnap him at all?
Suspicion tasted bitter on his tongue. He swallowed it back, but it continued to nag at him. Why indeed?
His mood, already bad, turned sour when, a half hour later he still hadn't found a dry spot on which to build a quick shelter. If there was an inch of ground that wasn't blanketed in moist white snow, he'd yet to find it. Even deep in the middle of the woods the flakes managed to filter through the ceiling of leaves and collect on the ground.
Jake shifted atop the white and sighed. His breath fogged the air as he scanned his snowswept surroundings. His grip on the reins was white-knuckled tight. The muscle in his jaw throbbed with aggravation.
His day was getting worse by the minute. If he hadn't made the mistake of his life with Amanda, he would be somewhere warm and dry right now. Instead, he was cold and tired and wet. His attention fixed on the snow-covered ground. Sure, he'd slept on harder, wetter, more uncomfortable beds than this before. And in worse conditions. If he had to, he could do it again.
Unfortunately, the fact of the matter was that he didn't have to. As Amanda had annoyingly pointed out earlier, the only thing keeping him from a dry bed and hot meal was his pride. He doubted she knew how right she was about that... although chances were, by now she'd probably guessed.
The white's hooves crunched over the snow. Jake let the horse pick its way through the woods. Sighing, he reached up and eased the hat back on his head, and let his thoughts wander. As they seemed to do with frightening regularity, his mind made a beeline to Amanda Lennox.
He wondered what Gail and Little Bear's reception to Amanda had been. And what had Amanda's reaction been? Dammit! He should have told Amanda who lived in the cabin. In fact, he almost had. The only thing that kept the information back was, quite simply, he didn't think it was any of her business.
Still... dammit! He should have told her.
No doubt she was angry as all hell. The worst part was, she had every right to be. Wouldn't he want to know up front what type of situation he was walking into? Damn straight he would! He didn't like being taken by surprise; he would have demanded to know the facts beforehand. Looking back, he thought he owed Amanda the same courtesy he would have taken for himself.
Then again, she hadn't asked. Oddly enough, Amanda had trusted him in the end to know what was best for her. It was exactly that reluctantly placed faith in him that was really eating at Jake now. He wasn't thrilled to admit he'd paid back her trust by slapping it right back in her face.
It eased his conscience a bit to think that, after her initial shock had faded, Amanda had no doubt handled herself just fine. She was made of stronger stuff than she thought. She would get through the awkward spots the way she did everything, with dignity and grace.
So would Gail and Little Bear. Jake was sure of it. While he hadn't seen his sister in years, he knew Gail. She wouldn't hold family squabbles over an innocent woman's head for long. Gail would thaw to Amanda quickly because... well, Jake of all people knew how hard it was to dislike a prissy white princess who could, when the occasion warranted, swear like a trooper and had enough gumption to conquer an army. Hell, hadn't he tried his best not to like her? He had. And he'd failed. Deep down, he knew Gail would fail to dislike Amanda, too.
The white stopped. The unexpected stillness jarred Jake's attention back to where it ought to have been in the first place—to finding a relatively dry spot to make camp. He wasn't overly surprised to find he'd unconsciously let his mount wind its way back up the hill, or that he'd come to a halt in the exact spot where he'd sat and watched Amanda enter the cabin.
The snow was coming down hard enough now so he could barely make out the small, square structure. He could see the chimney, though, and the wafts of gray smoke curling up from it. The aroma of a hearty stew hung tantalizingly thick in the air.
Though the day had started somewhat warm, the storm had blown in fast. The brisk air turned Jake's breath to steam. He shivered and pulled the blanket he'd tossed over his shoulders closer to his chest. He hadn't brought a coat. He hadn't thought he'd need one, hadn't expected to be at elevations this high, or to be hot on the trail of some brat for the past five days.
He shivered, his gaze shifting to his sister's small, ramshackle old barn. The thing hadn't been used in years. The roof had started to rot over a decade ago. The walls were slowly crumbling in on themselves. Little Bear, having no need for a barn, hadn't wasted time trying to repair it.
Jake eyed the decrepit building carefully. It was probably the warmest, driest place he was likely to find.
Another waft of stew teased him. His stomach grumbled, even as his ungloved, ice-cold fingers flicked the reins. He wouldn't have his sister's hearty stew to fill him, he knew, but he would have an essentially dry place to bed down for the night. For a man accustomed to making sacrifices in the name of pride, it would have to be enough.
"He is in the barn," Little Bear murmured to Gail in his native tongue. He watched his wife's back stiffen, watched her green eyes fill with three years of unshed tears. If he had the power to take her pain away, he would have done it. But only one man had that power. Blackhawk. And he refused to use it.
Little Bear gave his wife's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He watched as she swiped a few dark curls from her brow, then set about scrubbing the plates in the wash bucket with a vengeance. "Did you hear me, wife?"
"I know where he is, thank you. I've known for hours," Gail snapped. Her harshly whispered answer came in the guttural tongue her husband had taught her years ago and which now came to her naturally. In truth, she found it more awkward speaking English to their guest. And speaking of their guest...
Gail shot a glance over her shoulder. Amanda Lennox had pulled a chair closer to the hearth and now sat rocking Jacob to sleep. Kane cooed from the padded wicker basket on the floor beside the chair. If Amanda Lennox heard their conversation, she gave no sign. Not that a woman like her could have understood the words even if she had caught a phrase or two.
Reassured, Gail shifted her attention back to her husband. "All right. What is it you expect me to do?"
"What do you want to do?"
"Nothing."