Deborah Camp by Lady Legend Page A

his shirt. “Sure is steamy in here. Reckon you two don’t need a fire to keep the temperature rising.”
    “Hush up, Gus.” Copper dumped the chopped turnips and onions into the stew pot. Her hip grazed Tucker’s shoulder. Her knees almost buckled. Ashamed at her own quivering awareness of Tucker, Copper sat on the edge of the hearth and listened to her pulse boom in her ears. She dared not look at Tucker for fear he would see that she couldn’t control herself.
    “Having yourself a dizzy spell, girl?” Gus asked.
    “You going to make stew or make fun?” Copper snapped.
    “Can’t a body do both?” Gus dug into his possibles bag again. “Better talk sweet to me, Copper. I brought you a present. Something you’ve been hankering for, I do believe.”
    Copper slanted him a look. “What?” she asked, hooked.
    Gus withdrew a small hand mirror from the bag. “Looky here. Got this from a trading man. When I saw it, I knew you’d dote on it. A girl as pretty as you likes to admire what God has made. Your old mirror is cracked, I do believe. Ought to toss it out and use this one.” He gave her the ivory-handled mirror.
    Copper smiled at her reflection. “I’m not pretty, but I thank you for the gift. You’re right. I’ll throw the other one away.” She swallowed and pushed aside a bad memory. “Many thanks, Grizzly Gus.”
    “Ever see any firecrackers, Yankee?”
    Tucker forced his attention from Copper to Gus, who held out some paper-covered sticks with longfuses. He stared at them for a few seconds, his eyes still dazzled by the natural beauty of Copper’s oval-shaped face, his mind occupied with his need to tell her that she was pretty. More than pretty. Finally, he shook free of her spell and focused on the objects Gus held out to him.
    “That trader says these was made by Chinamen.”
    “Firecrackers?” Tucker laughed and examined the six small sticks. “These bring back memories. Every Fourth my grandfather used to shoot these off. I remember the first time.” He laughed again. “They scared the peewaddlin’ out of me. Made an awful noise. I thought we’d all been shot dead.”
    “The trader swears they throw off colored lights.”
    “Probably do,” Tucker said, examining the peppermint striped sticks and the cotton fuses. “Have you ever seen any go off?”
    “Once, a couple of years ago.” Gus waved them aside when Tucker tried to give them back. “Take them, soldier. When you throw that firewood cane away, you can set one of them off to celebrate.”
    “I might just do that,” Tucker said, grinning as he pushed the firecrackers into his pocket. “Nice of you, Gus. Thanks.”
    “I got no use for them.” Gus shrugged off the gratitude and heaved himself from the chair. He ambled over to the stew pot. “Stand aside, Tucker Jones. I’m about to make a stew your tongue won’t soon forget. Copper, you whup up some of your batter biscuits.”
    “They’ll hit the spot,” Tucker said, giving Copper a special smile. “Copper’s about the best cook I’ve come across since I left my mother’s table.”
    Copper ducked her head, trying to hide her blush. Tucker found encouragement in his ability to fluster her. He ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips and suffered a keen wanting for her taste.
    “Yank, fetch us some fresh water. Figure we’ll need a whole bucketful to cool you off.” Gus narrowed one blue eye at Tucker. “Looks like you’ve got yourself one powerful thirst.”

Chapter 7
     
    G us decided to spend the night. When Tucker went outside to check on the horses and mules, Gus fell into step beside him.
    “Thought I’d come along and give Copper a chance to get herself and the baby ready for bed without two hairy men ogling her,” Gus said, stumping along beside Tucker through the snowdrifts.
    Tucker glanced over his shoulder at the collection of logs, rock, and mortar. Golden light shone through the window. Behind the cabin a sheer rock face of gray and blue