Deborah Camp by Lady Legend

knife. The blade flashed wickedly as she slashed turnips and onions. Tucker sat at the hearth and jointed the skinned and gutted animals. He dropped the parts into the stew pot, all the while keeping an eye on Copper. An apologyweighted his tongue, but he pressed his lips together to keep it inside. Damn her, she’d treated him like a stray dog for days! She should be the one asking forgiveness.
    Tomahawk! Copper thought, bringing the blade of her knife neatly through another turnip. She wasn’t
anybody’s
squaw. After all she’d done for him, this was her thanks. The man thought she might murder him in his sleep. Why did he make such a fuss about the baby? Most men didn’t want to have anything to do with a newborn. If she’d told him to take care of the baby, he would have whined and complained! Oh, there was no sense in any man. They all possessed more muscle than mind.
    She didn’t have to give him a reason for her reluctance to hand her baby over to him. Besides, he wouldn’t understand. He’d probably think Stands Tall was right and that her husband had done her a good turn. Micah McCall had once voiced that notion, spouting nonsense about what a stone her child would have been around her neck. She had decided then and there that she’d discourage Micah’s attentions.
    Gus, of course, was different. She trusted Gus because Gus had earned her trust. But what did she really know about Tucker Jones? Why shouldn’t she be uneasy having him around her baby? She’d trusted her husband, and look what had happened! She recalled her vow to raise her next child alone after she had been thrown out of the Crow village. A good promise, she told herself. All Valor needed was her.
    The mean inner voice faded, giving her heart a chance to speak. Instantly, Copper felt contrite. Maybe she should tell Tucker about Stands Tall. She glanced over her shoulder at him and caught him looking at her. He jerked his gaze from hers. The strong planes of his face, lit by firelight, entrancedher. A lock of his sandy brown hair fell negligently across his forehead. She watched his hands, strong and sure, boning the meat and dropping the chunks into the pot. Her heart spoke again and she listened.
    He’s a good man, she allowed, recalling his gentleness during and after the birth. She liked his sense of humor and infectious grin. She liked it when he called her “darlin’ ” and “sugar,” too, although it took a lot out of her to admit that, even to herself.
    Scrutinizing him more fully, she allowed that he was one of the best looking white men she’d ever come across. She remembered how his handsomeness had delighted her when she’d cleaned blood and dirt off him that first day. Now that his health had returned he was even better on the eyes. Abruptly, as if sensing her keen perusal, his gaze slid to hers. Copper’s heart flip-flopped and her breathing grew shallow as she realized that the flames leaping in his green eyes were no longer fed by anger, but by desire.
    Startled, she looked away. She stared sightlessly at the turnip before her. Had she really seen desire for her in him? Yes, and why not? He was a man, wasn’t he? A man without a female for … how many months? She could be a four-hundred-pound tub on legs and he’d want her just as bad.
    Almost against her will, her gaze slipped back to him. Naked longing tipped up one corner of his mouth in a grin so seductive he left no doubt what was foremost on his mind. Copper stared straight ahead again. The knife trembled in her hands and she dropped it to grip the edge of the table and steady herself. Gus chuckled.
    “What’s tickling you, old man?” Copper asked, glad for the diversion.
    “Oh, I was just enjoying the scenery.” Gus puffed on his pipe.
    Tucker straightened and glanced around. “What scenery?”
    “Don’t ask,” Copper said, catching the mischievous glint in Gus’ eyes.
    Gus laughed deeply, sounding like an old grizzly. He plucked at the front of