supplies.
Savannah took the pot and knelt at the edge of the water, hoping that the water she’d scooped up wasclear. As she stood there, fog snaked across the valley, closing out the last of the sun. Little tags of vapor drifted up from the water, merging with the wisps of clouds. In the distance the mountains took on the color that gave them their name, the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The sound of her anklet bells sounded faint as she danced back to the fire. Suddenly Savannah wasn’t brave anymore.
Think about Tifton
, she told herself.
Remember why you’re here
. She tried hard to concentrate on seeing her laughing, blue-eyed brother, to remember him walking the wire in his blue satin costume. But for the first time, even the sound of his laughter escaped her.
It was this sad location. Never had she been in a place that seemed so unstable. The ground didn’t move, but all the elements above it shifted and blurred in the night air. The only solid force in her vicinity was Rasch Webber. She looked for him, finding him staring at her with an odd expression on his face, as if he, too, were trying to bring something to mind.
“Wow! Crusader,” she managed to say, “when you said there were spirits, you didn’t exaggerate, did you?”
Rasch heard the uncertainty in her voice and felt some regret. He, too, had always felt uncomfortable by the lake after the sun went down. His custom was to come here during the day to fish, but then to move his campsite farther up the mountain on the opposite side.
But tonight was different. He hadn’t noticed the quiet unease. Tonight was filled with his Gypsy and the magic of her presence.
“It’s likely some of your spirits, Gypsy. Can’t you say some magic words to let them know we’re friendly?”
“Are we, Crusader? Friendly, I mean?” She drew her gaze away as she answered her own question. Lovers they would become, but to be friends with the man responsible for her brother’s death? That was the last thing she wanted.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to tell me.”
Savannah gave her skirts a little shake and jutted her chin forward. She didn’t want to make him more suspicious than he already was. “Of course we are,” she said brightly. “And I’m hungry. What goes in the water?”
“First you’re going to pour part of the water into this coffeepot. Then we’re going to bring the rest to a boil for stew.”
“Stew?”
“Dehydrated. Tonight I’ll make it easy on you. Tomorrow we catch our own dinner. That lake is full of fish.”
“Wonderful.” Savannah sank down, folding her legs beneath her Indian-style. Her skirt covered her feet and warmed them, but her arms were soon speckled with chill bumps.
“Are you cold?” Rasch asked, hiding a smile behind a genuine concern. “Why don’t you change clothes?”
“I’m fine,” Savannah insisted, determined not to let him know the extent of her discomfort. Soon her front was warmed by the campfire. But her back was chilled to the bone.
By the time the water boiled and Rasch poured the hot coffee into collapsible tin cups, Savannah was socold that she would have drunk the hot water without the coffee.
“Umm, this is good, Crusader. What kind of stew are we having?”
“It’s beef and it’s hot, so be careful that you don’t burn your tongue.” He handed her a cup of the steaming meat.
The stew was surprisingly good. Had Savannah been the cook, she could have improved it with the addition of a few herbs she’d noticed back on the trail, but she was too hungry to quibble. Starting tomorrow, she’d take over as chef.
When they finished eating, Rasch took the cups and spoons down to the water and rinsed them. Afterward, he collapsed them and replaced them in his backpack. “I always keep my supplies packed,” he explained, “in case I have to move out quickly.”
“Move out?” Savannah glanced around.
“In case of bears,” he said casually, feeling ashamed of himself even as he spoke.
Savannah took the pot and knelt at the edge of the water, hoping that the water she’d scooped up wasclear. As she stood there, fog snaked across the valley, closing out the last of the sun. Little tags of vapor drifted up from the water, merging with the wisps of clouds. In the distance the mountains took on the color that gave them their name, the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The sound of her anklet bells sounded faint as she danced back to the fire. Suddenly Savannah wasn’t brave anymore.
Think about Tifton
, she told herself.
Remember why you’re here
. She tried hard to concentrate on seeing her laughing, blue-eyed brother, to remember him walking the wire in his blue satin costume. But for the first time, even the sound of his laughter escaped her.
It was this sad location. Never had she been in a place that seemed so unstable. The ground didn’t move, but all the elements above it shifted and blurred in the night air. The only solid force in her vicinity was Rasch Webber. She looked for him, finding him staring at her with an odd expression on his face, as if he, too, were trying to bring something to mind.
“Wow! Crusader,” she managed to say, “when you said there were spirits, you didn’t exaggerate, did you?”
Rasch heard the uncertainty in her voice and felt some regret. He, too, had always felt uncomfortable by the lake after the sun went down. His custom was to come here during the day to fish, but then to move his campsite farther up the mountain on the opposite side.
But tonight was different. He hadn’t noticed the quiet unease. Tonight was filled with his Gypsy and the magic of her presence.
“It’s likely some of your spirits, Gypsy. Can’t you say some magic words to let them know we’re friendly?”
“Are we, Crusader? Friendly, I mean?” She drew her gaze away as she answered her own question. Lovers they would become, but to be friends with the man responsible for her brother’s death? That was the last thing she wanted.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to tell me.”
Savannah gave her skirts a little shake and jutted her chin forward. She didn’t want to make him more suspicious than he already was. “Of course we are,” she said brightly. “And I’m hungry. What goes in the water?”
“First you’re going to pour part of the water into this coffeepot. Then we’re going to bring the rest to a boil for stew.”
“Stew?”
“Dehydrated. Tonight I’ll make it easy on you. Tomorrow we catch our own dinner. That lake is full of fish.”
“Wonderful.” Savannah sank down, folding her legs beneath her Indian-style. Her skirt covered her feet and warmed them, but her arms were soon speckled with chill bumps.
“Are you cold?” Rasch asked, hiding a smile behind a genuine concern. “Why don’t you change clothes?”
“I’m fine,” Savannah insisted, determined not to let him know the extent of her discomfort. Soon her front was warmed by the campfire. But her back was chilled to the bone.
By the time the water boiled and Rasch poured the hot coffee into collapsible tin cups, Savannah was socold that she would have drunk the hot water without the coffee.
“Umm, this is good, Crusader. What kind of stew are we having?”
“It’s beef and it’s hot, so be careful that you don’t burn your tongue.” He handed her a cup of the steaming meat.
The stew was surprisingly good. Had Savannah been the cook, she could have improved it with the addition of a few herbs she’d noticed back on the trail, but she was too hungry to quibble. Starting tomorrow, she’d take over as chef.
When they finished eating, Rasch took the cups and spoons down to the water and rinsed them. Afterward, he collapsed them and replaced them in his backpack. “I always keep my supplies packed,” he explained, “in case I have to move out quickly.”
“Move out?” Savannah glanced around.
“In case of bears,” he said casually, feeling ashamed of himself even as he spoke.
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