A Soldier's Pledge Read online

  “Oh, Jack,” Cameron said, filled with remorse. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault that bear got in.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault, and it’s just a guitar. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter much.” He looked back at the ransacked room. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll clean this up. You change into some dry clothes and lay down. Get off that knee and get some rest.”

  Cameron shook her head, pulled off her mosquito netting and ball cap and flung them onto the top bunk. “I’ll clean up. You have more important things to do.” When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “You’re looking for Ky, remember? Whistle, call her name. She’s here, Jack, I know she is. You have to let her know you’ve arrived. I’ll take care of this mess, and then fix us something to eat, assuming there’s anything left.”

  Jack righted the woodstove and dragged it back into position, hooking up the stovepipe, which dangled in midair. “We’ll both clean up,” he said, “then I’ll look for Ky. If she’s really here and got a whiff of my socks, she won’t be too far away.”

  Cameron was too tired to argue. It took half an hour for the two of them to tidy up the worst of the mess, after which Jack fixed the window screen while she prepared a very simple meal of thickly sliced sharp cheddar cheese topped with equally thick rounds of summer sausage, both items rescued from the ransacked cooler, and served up with two bottles of water. They ate silently, both too tired to attempt conversation, then Jack departed to have a look around and she unwrapped her knee and changed out of her wet clothes and into a dry T-shirt, socks and long johns. It took all her strength to climb into the top bunk, where she collapsed, exhausted, pulling her wool blanket around her. She heard Jack whistle once, downriver from the cabin. He might have whistled nonstop for hours after that, but she didn’t hear a thing because in the next breath she was sound asleep.

  * * *

  JACK WOKE TO the rumble of distant thunder. It was dark enough to be night, but light enough to be close to dawn. Cameron had been sleeping when he returned to the cabin after two hours of an unsuccessful search, not finding any sign of the wolf dog she’d spotted. The rain had stopped earlier in the evening, but now he heard it pattering gently on the cabin roof as he lay in the lower bunk. It was a soothing sound until he heard Cameron whimper in her sleep.

  The whimper nudged him wide awake. Was she dreaming, or was she wide awake, lying in her bunk, crying? Should he say something to let her know he was awake? He didn’t want to wake her if she was sleeping. She needed the rest. But what if she was in pain?

  He lay quietly for a few moments to see if the whimpering stopped. It did. Thunder rumbled again, closer. He started to drift back to sleep, then heard her shift in the upper bunk. There was a solid “thump!” as she bumped her head on the cabin ceiling, followed by a soft curse. Her stocking feet swung over the side of the bunk, followed by a pair of long shapely legs clad in black thermal tights and a lithe, slender body covered in a dark T-shirt. She lowered herself to the floor like a monkey. There was just enough murky light to make out the figure that crept to the door of the cabin and opened it. Lightning flashed and illuminated her in brilliant white, like a flashbulb going off. Cameron stood in the open doorway and he could hear her murmuring softly, measuring the time between the flash of lightning and the thunder.

  “...four, one thousand five, one thousand six...”

  The thunder crashed and boomed, closer still. Now she was looking for her boots. Feeling for them in the shadows.

  “You’re going outside now?” Jack asked. “That’s bad timing.”

  “I have to pee,” she muttered, pulling on her boots.

  “Why don’t you use your headlamp?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.” A few moments later, she recovered her headlamp from the table, switched it on and pulled it over her head.

  “Hold on a minute, and I’ll go out with you. That bear could still be around.”

  “If the bear were still around, we’d know it by now,” she said. “He’d have come back through the window for the rest of the food. I’ll be fine.” And just like that she was gone.

  The outhouse was a good fifty feet or better behind the cabin. He listened for her footsteps, but the drum of rain on the cabin roof covered all sound. Most girls wouldn’t have dared go out there alone knowing there might be a bear in the vicinity, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling, but Cameron wasn’t like most girls. She just pulled on her boots, grabbed her headlamp and went. If the bear got in her way, she’d probably kick it aside.

  Jack reached for his prosthesis. He’d get the bear spray out of his pack and go out and meet her, make sure she got back okay. But in spite of his efficiency, she wasn’t gone long enough for him to get his boot tied. When she returned, it was at a much greater speed than when she’d gone out.

  “Jack!” she said urgently as she burst through the door. “You won’t believe what I just saw!”

  “Bear?”

  “When I was coming back from the outhouse, I saw a pair of eyes looking out from under the cabin! I think Ky’s under the camp! I think she’s right here, right under our feet!” She was carrying the headlamp in one hand, gesturing as she spoke, sending beams of light everywhere. Her hair and clothing were dripping wet. “I was afraid my headlamp might spook her, so I took it off, held it under my shirt. You should talk some more, let her listen to your voice. She’s here, right here, Jack, right underneath you. Sing some Elvis to her!”

  “Maybe it was a bear’s eyes you saw,” Jack said.

  “No, it wasn’t. The eyes reflected green, and a bear’s eyes reflect red, just like human eyes. Sometimes a dog with blue pigment in their eyes reflects red in a flashlight beam, but you said Ky had yellow eyes, right?”

  “How do you know all this eye color stuff?”

  “Back when I was living in Yukon, I was a volunteer pilot for the Yukon Quest, that’s a thousand-mile sled dog race run between Whitehorse and Fairbanks, and while I was volunteering I met another pilot whose wife, Rebecca, was running the race. Mac was flying support like I was, ferrying veterinarians and supplies and dropped dogs. Mac and I became friends, and afterward he invited me out to their place near Dawson. I spent a whole week there with them. They took me dogsledding. We camped out at thirty below, watched the northern lights at 2:00 a.m., sipped Talisker whisky from a silver flask and howled with the huskies. Anyhow, that’s how I learned about eye shine. Going out into their dog yard wearing a headlamp, knowing which dogs had blue eyes, which had brown eyes, which had both colors in each eye. It was like an informal study in nocturnal reflections.”

  “What color does a wolf’s or coyote’s eyes reflect?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve only studied huskies and shined bears at the dump, but whatever’s under the cabin isn’t a bear no matter what the eye color is. The eyes were too small and too close together, and besides, a bear couldn’t fit under the cabin unless it dug a noticeable hole. When you were looking for Ky this afternoon, did you see any sign of her?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because she was right here, right under the cabin, trying to get as close to you as she could!”

  Jack didn’t want to get his hopes up, but maybe she was right. “I did hear some whimpering noises earlier. I thought it was you, but I guess they could have been coming from under the cabin.”

  “I don’t whimper. We should put some food out for her. I’m already wet. You stay inside and keep talking. She knows you’re in here. Talk to her. Sing her a song. I’ll bring out those pawed-over scraps of bread the bear was chewing on.” Cameron already had the remains of the bread bag in her hand and was out the door before she finished the sentence. Rain was pounding on the cabin roof, and within seconds she was back, thoroughly drenched.

  “Mission accomplished!” she said with an elated smile, flinging her wet hai
r out of her eyes, kicking off her boots. “Jack, I have to admit I didn’t believe your dog could be alive after a whole year in the wilderness, but she is. It’s a miracle. You’ve found your friend again. Somehow you knew she was alive, and you didn’t give up on her, and I think you’re pretty damn wonderful.”

  Lightning flashed, thunder shook the ground. The storm was almost on top of them. Cameron switched off the headlamp, left it on the table and crossed to the bunks, but instead of crawling up into her bunk she stripped out of her wet T-shirt, flung it behind her, peeled off her long johns and socks and, without a moment’s hesitation, slipped nimbly onto his bunk. Startled, Jack felt her strong, trembling body wrap itself around him. There was no mistaking her intentions. He thought he should say something, but couldn’t think what it should be, and then her mouth found his and started a wild electrical storm all its own, and in the end, words weren’t necessary.

  * * *

  THE STORM MOVED through before dawn, and Cameron lay awake, listening to the thunder recede into the distance, listening to the slow drip of rainwater off the cabin eaves and the strong, steady beat of Jack’s heart. She was warm, sleepy and very content. There hadn’t been another man since Roy, and none before him, either, so her ex-husband was the only measure she had for the three hours she’d just spent in Jack’s arms, and she was still trying to process everything she’d been missing for the past three years. She was blown away by the experience. With sex that good, how did two people ever get anything accomplished? What was their motivation to get out of bed?

  As if on cue, her stomach growled an answer. Hunger was the motivation to get out of bed. It was light enough to see the inside of the cabin. The birds were awakening, morning had arrived and another day had begun. But today, everything was different because last night she and Jack had crossed an intimate line. Intimate not just because of the sex, but because of how she felt when she was around him. Frightening because she realized how vulnerable those feelings made her.

  She pushed away the vulnerable feelings and fears and very carefully, so as not to awaken him and invite another possible episode of PTSD, she slipped from Jack’s bunk bed. Stark naked in the early light, she crossed to her duffel and pulled out dry, clean clothing and a towel. Carrying the bundle in her arms, she left the cabin barefoot and made her way to the river’s edge.

  She bathed in a back eddy, washed her hair, scrubbed herself clean. The water was high and stingingly cold, and she was shivering when she was through. She dried herself briskly with the towel and donned dry clothing. Then she rinsed out the bandage and hung it over a bush to dry. Her knee felt so good she doubted she’d need it again. From the way the day was shaping up, it was going to be cool, bright and sunny with a good breeze. She’d wash out all her dirty clothes and Jack’s, too. They’d share a domestic day of much-needed rest and recovery.

  But first, breakfast. A big breakfast. Huge. And then there was Ky to tame after her year alone in the wilderness. And there was last night to think about, to process. Her sexual hunger. Her impulsiveness. Her fears and vulnerabilities. Her growing attachment to a man she vowed two nights ago not to get too close to. But after last night, things had changed, and for right now, in this very moment, she was going to take everything he offered and give as much of herself as she could in return. She’d be crazy not to.

  Her stomach growled again, and she walked into the cabin, surprised to see that Jack was up and dressed. Just the sight of him standing there made her blood warm. He was so rugged. So male. So sexy. She wanted to push him back down on the bunk bed, remove his clothing piece by piece. Forget about breakfast. They’d have each other for breakfast. Forget about Ky. The dog had waited this long to see him, she could wait a few more minutes. She wondered if Jack could read her mind, if he knew why she was tongue-tied, blushing. They regarded each other across the small room in awkward silence.

  “I heard more noises under the cabin,” he said, grabbing her headlamp from the table. “I’m going out to have a look.”

  Cameron nodded. “There’s one last piece of bread in that torn bag and a piece of cheese inside the cooler. Maybe a hot dog or two. I’ll get breakfast started.”

  While he was gone to reunite with his dog, she cooked the last of the bacon, measured some of the salvaged ground coffee into the coffeepot after picking out the biggest twigs, and by the time he returned, the coffee was well boiled. The cabin was warm from the wood fire in the cookstove and smelled of fresh brewed coffee, woodsmoke and bacon fat. She handed a mug of coffee to Jack with a smile that slowly faded as she read his expression.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong? Wasn’t she under there? Didn’t you see her? Didn’t she recognize you?”

  He took the mug, returned to the open doorway and stood for a moment, gazing out across the river. “You know, it’s the damnedest thing,” he said quietly. “There is a dog under the cabin, just like you thought, but it’s not her. It’s not Ky.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how there could be another dog way out here in the middle of nowhere, but there is, and it’s not Ky.”

  Cameron was stunned by his words. She shook her head, unable to process what he’d said. How could that be? How could the dog under the cabin not be Ky? She watched him, wanting to cross the distance and wrap her arms around him because he was being so stoic, and she knew how much finding that dog had meant to him. She knew how much every mile he’d walked had cost him. She didn’t ask him if he was sure it wasn’t her. Of course he was sure. He knew the dog, he’d loved the dog. The dog had saved his life twice, and he’d just gone through tremendous hardships to find her. But the dog that was under the cabin wasn’t Ky, and the cruelty of that disappointment had to be tearing him apart.

  Cameron turned back to the cookstove, dividing the salvaged bacon beside two mounds of oatmeal. She poured maple syrup over both servings, set the plates on the small table beneath the east window and then crossed to where Jack stood staring out the doorway, and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

  “Come eat,” she said. “It’s not fancy. The bear didn’t leave us much.”

  They ate in silence. Cameron didn’t try to fill that silence with empty words. When he’d cleaned his plate, he raised his eyes to her and she said, “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  He shook his head again. “I swore I wouldn’t get my hopes up, but I did. My fault, not yours. By some freak twist of fate, there’s another dog under the cabin, maybe more than one. I think she has a puppy under there.”

  “A puppy?” Cameron leaned across the table, galvanized by his words.

  “That was the whimpering I heard last night.”

  “There’s a puppy under the cabin?”

  “The mother ate what you left her last night, and she came right out and nabbed what I offered this morning.”

  “One puppy? Are you sure? Just one?”

  “Not sure. I had your headlamp, but couldn’t see that well. I’m way too big to fit through that little hole under the cabin, and she made it pretty plain she didn’t like me looking under there. Anyhow, she’s hungry and she’s nursing and she’s not totally wild but pretty damn close. How much food’s left?”

  Cameron frowned, calculating their provisions. “Not much. Two sticks of butter, a block of cheese, some sausage, a plastic bag of biscuit mix, a few more hot dogs. But there’s a big can of oatmeal and another of rice in the trapper’s stash. I’ll catch some char right after I clean up from breakfast. She’ll live on fish just fine, and we can, too.” She shook her head. “We’ll have to bring her with us, and the pup. We can’t leave them here.”

  “No. We won’t leave them behind.”

  “I’m sorry she wasn’t your dog, Jack. Really sorry.”

  She pushed to her feet and gathered the empty plates, then paused, shored up her courage and looked at him. “About last night. I just want you to know I don’t jump
into bed with just any guy in the middle of a thunderstorm.” He met her gaze but remained silent, so she forged onward, not really knowing where she was going with the conversation but knowing they had to have one. “I swore after Roy I was done with men, but you’re different. You’re not like Roy, and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re not, I really am. But in a way it would be easier if you were, because it would make things so much simpler. I just want you to know that I’m not going to cause any messy problems for you down the road. There won’t be any complications or emotional entanglements. I’m all about keeping things simple.”

  Jack stared. “Okay,” he said.

  Cameron’s heart was pounding, and she felt a little dizzy. She could tell by his expression that he hadn’t grasped what she’d been trying to tell him. She stood with her hands full of breakfast dishes and waited for more. “That’s it?” she finally prompted. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He blew out his breath. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Money was your motivation for chasing after me, and except for the fact that you’ve had a run of bad luck, it probably still is. Maybe last night your motivation was different, but if you’re regretting it this morning, then I’m sorry it happened. And I’m especially sorry that you wish I was like your ex-husband, because I think he was a real jerk. I won’t stand in the way of you getting your five thousand dollars and that red Jeep, if that’s the sort of emotional entanglement you’re afraid of. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Cameron felt a sudden flash of anger that he’d twisted what she’d said. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just meant that I don’t want you to think I’m going to turn all clingy and needy or anything like that just because of what happened between us last night, because I’m not like that. I just didn’t want you to read too much into it, that’s all, or feel threatened by it.”