Deborah Camp by Lady Legend Page A

sorry.” He swallowed a chuckle. “It’s just that I haven’t been spooked by witches since I was in knee breeches. You don’t look like a witch to me. I heard they had hook noses and warts.”
    “You’re laughing now, but if you could hear the Crow and Blackfeet and Gros Ventre talk about me and what I can do, you wouldn’t think it was so rib-ticklin’.”
    “I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He wiped the smile off his mouth and ran his hands down his chest. “Well, that was a mighty fine meal, and I’m feeling better, thanks to you.” He glanced at his splintedlimb. “My leg must be mending. It itches deep down where I can’t scratch it. The bone burns.”
    She nodded. “You heal fast.”
    “Like I said, I owe my feeling better to you. If you’re a witch, you’re a good-hearted one.”
    She reached for his cup at the same time he did, and her fingers brushed his. She jerked back as if he’d burned her. Color flooded her face. Snatching the cup off the table, she whirled away from him to rinse the dishes.
    Tucker noted her stiff movements and questioned her reaction. She had reminded him daily that she was well acquainted with every part of his body, but when he’d offered some nice words and accidently touched her, she’d jumped as if she’d been snakebit. Something was at work in her that gave the lie to her outward calm.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “Sure, and why wouldn’t I be?” She dried her hands on a rag, then began filling the lamps with oil. “I’ll check the traps tomorrow and gather what I can. I’ve put up some canned meat and I’ve dried quite a bit. Should be plenty until after the baby’s born and I’m fit enough to hunt again.”
    He laughed to himself, finding her way of life so foreign to what he’d been brought up to expect. Absently, he picked up the mittens she’d finished the night before and examined them.
    “I feel like a lion.”
    “A jungle cat? Why?”
    “I read somewhere that the male sits around and does little. He roars and struts and yawns. The female hunts and brings the meat back for him to eat.” He shrugged. “So, I feel like a lion.” He lifted his gaze briefly to hers. “You should find yourself a man to take care of you, Copper. This is no life for a woman. No life for a woman with a child, that’s for sure.”
    “Says you. It’s the life I’ve chosen.”
    “No, you didn’t. This life was thrust on you.You were kidnapped, raised by the Indians, and then thrown out. You’ve had no choice in any of it.”
    “I could have made my way to the fort or a town, but I wanted to live right here.” She lit one of the lamps with a burning stick, then blew out the flame with a flourish and threw the stick into the hearth fire. “This life is hard, but it won’t kill you. You’re just not used to it and that’s why you think it’s so peculiar. I think living in the city is odd. Why humans would want to live right up against each other in a long row of buildings escapes me.”
    He smiled, amused by her description of a town. “I never said I didn’t like how you lived. In a way, I envy you for it; but I’ve been raised to protect women and children, to provide shelter and warmth and food for them. It goes against my grain to see you out here by yourself with no one to look after you.”
    “You’re here.”
    “Only until spring. Then what?”
    “Come spring I’ll be needing no constant companion. Besides, I’ve got friends around.”
    “Who are your friends, Copper?”
    “Trappers, mostly. Some Indians. Most of the Indians, like I said, are afraid of me, so they keep their distance.”
    “Trappers aren’t afraid of you?”
    “Trappers look at me and see a female, and that’s as far as it goes. That’s all they want to see. Mountain men don’t get enough female company—white females, especially—and they don’t care anything about a woman’s past or what others are saying about her. They’re just interested in getting under her