Chapter 29

“SIT BY THE fire and rest,” Nora said. “I can take care of the fish.”

“I’m not able to rest now, Nora. I must build us a shelter. There is a storm coming soon.” Jack started to walk by her.

“Yes, I know. I have taken care of the shelter.”

He stopped and turned back to her. “You’ve taken care of the shelter?”

“You need not look so askance, Jack,” she laughed.

He noticed a lean to up against a boulder. She had taken long tree limbs and leaned them up against the rock, then covered them with fern and evergreen branches. He could just make out the pine needles and leaves on the ground beneath their saddle blankets, an effort to soften the ground. She had, indeed, done a good job.

The problem was it was awfully small.

“Do my efforts pass the test?” she questioned smugly.

“They would seem to. Though it does not look like you left much room for, well, moving around a bit.” He would be employing a monumental level of restraint to sleep nearly on top of her and remain a gentleman.

“That was intentional, sir. We will need our body heat. It’s cold out.”

“You can have the shelter, Nora. I don’t mind a little rain.”

“You don’t trust it to adequately protect you from the storm, do you?” she asked softly. Sadness filled her eyes and he regretted speaking without thinking…again.

“That’s not true,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll take care of cooking the fish, Jack,” Nora said. “There are some logs near the fire. Sit down and rest with your friend.”

He shook his head roughly, laid the fish by the fire, and walked over to a log at the edge of the site she had created and dropped himself down. Once Nora had gathered what she needed to cook, she picked up the fish and moved away from the fire to prepare them for cooking. Running Bull built his shelter on the other side of the clearing from Nora’s.

Jack waited on the log, feeling a little useless. Not having a task to perform was strange.

“She has skills,” Running Bull noted in Shawnee with a wry smile, sitting down next to Jack once his shelter was completed. “Are you just now noticing them? There is enough room in the shelter to sleep you both comfortably.”

“I could make my own shelter or bunk with you.”

“Mine is not big enough,” Running Bull replied. “You will hurt her feelings if you refuse her shelter. You will send her a signal that you don’t think her efforts passed your test after all. And sleeping next to your woman, sharing body heat, could not be an unpleasant way to spend the night.”

“Watch your tongue, sir,” Nora said, handing Jack a cooked fish impaled by a clean dagger. “We wouldn’t want you to accidentally spear it. It would be a shame if you could not speak for a time.”

Jack smirked and took the offered fish as Running Bull full out laughed. Jack had to admit, she had done a good job, and she blushed prettily when he told her so. He realized then that he wasn’t a man of many compliments. She could probably use an encouraging word from him now and again—she was working hard.

They ate in silence. None seemed to feel the need for idle talk. When they were finished, Nora rose and stretched. “Well,” she said looking over to the shelter. “I put down as many pine needles and leaves as I could under the blankets. I hope they provide some sort of comfort. Try not to stay out here too long. It’s cold. If you get wet, you can catch a chill, and neither of you will be good to me ill.”

Jack stayed outside with Running Bull, staring into the fire comfortably, sharing the silence until it died down to a bed of coals. When he felt the first drops of rain Jack got up and checked on the horses. Nothing could be done about a shelter for them other than tying them under the largest trees they could find. He scraped the coals together and heaped the ashes and dirt over them, bid Running Bull good night as he headed to his own shelter, then finally crawled in next to Nora.

She was sound asleep and lying on her side on top of a blanket, her heavy quilt covering her over. It would be warm enough, he thought, as he laid down next to her, pillowing his hands behind his head. She had done a good job with the ground cover. It was as soft as either one of them would have been able to make it. She had proven herself adept at surviving. Maybe they could divide the responsibilities between them. He laughed to himself at that thought. She was in charge of the home while he hunted for the food?
It was so domestic. She would probably punch him in outrage for voicing the thought.

Jack was just closing his eyes when he suddenly found himself ensconced under the quilt with her, as she moved closer to him in her sleep and threw the quilt over him to cover them both. Her head now rested on his shoulder, her body pressed up against his side, her leg tossed over his. Jack was positive he would not sleep that night.

But he did sleep. And he slept well.