Rivers Recruit (Sanctuary Series Book One)

  Chapter Four

  Breaking Boundaries

  The melancholy sound of Canada geese woke River. She stretched her sore muscles and opened her eyes. The sun warmed her face, but her breath fogged the air when she yawned. Three white trails crossed each other in the sky—marks left by outsider’s flying machines. They were too high to see anyone on the ground. The ones River needed to hide from were the smaller, noisier contraptions. She needed to break camp and get going if she wanted to catch up with the goat herd. She’d been on their trail for a week and was more than ready for a nice long soak in the cleansing pool and her own bed. Besides, the mild weather wouldn’t last forever.

  As if to prove her point, a handful of lazy snowflakes fluttered to the ground. The rare mix of sunshine, blue sky and snow was an omen of change. River sat up and looked over her shoulder. Dark grey clouds boiled behind the northern peaks. She pulled her sheepskin parka from her pack. The temperature plummeted as a gust of wind lifted her braid off her back and whipped it over her shoulder. If she didn’t find the goats soon, snow would obliterate their trail. It would be a long, cold winter without milk, butter or cheese. She fed Sugar a ration of oats and grabbed a chunk of jerky out of her pack to eat while she rode.

  Two hours later, Sugar balked and refused to go around a weathered granite outcropping. She veered to the left, nearly unseating River. It wasn’t unusual for a change in the weather to make a horse frisky, but Sugar was acting downright skittish. She snorted and tossed her head then backed up. Something was making her nervous.

  River shoved Sugar’s reins under her thigh to free her hands. She pulled her bow off her back and slid the bottom tip inside her boot so she could string it without dismounting. It gouged her ankle as she slid the string into the notch at the top, but she barely noticed the pain. The whole maneuver took less time than a single breath, but sometimes one breath could mean the difference between life and death.

  River nocked an arrow and scanned the outcropping. Whatever was scaring Sugar was most likely hiding up there.

  An angry snarl raised the hair on the back of River’s neck. Sugar dropped her head and bucked. River managed to toss her loaded bow away from her body before she slammed into the ground. The fall emptied her quiver and scattered arrows everywhere. River was lucky she hadn’t impaled herself.

  Sugar took off towards home. Without the added weight of a rider, she should make it back to the ranch before the blizzard hit. Reuben would be worried, but right now, River had a much bigger problem.

  The largest cougar she’d ever seen laid his ears flat against his skull, snarled and clawed the air. The cat wasn’t hiding in the rocks. It was on the ground, creeping closer.

  “Hey!” An outsider stepped out from behind a rock and waved a stick at the cougar, drawing the beast’s attention. The aspen branch in the young man’s right hand was almost as long as he was tall and about three inches thick—but it wasn’t going to stop a full grown cougar.

  River stretched one arm to the left and teased her bow into her hand with her fingers. The closest arrow was just out of reach.

  The young man spoke in a low, calm voice as he edged closer, positioning himself between River and the cougar. “Don’t run. It’ll trigger his predatory instincts.”

  River couldn’t breathe much less get up and run. But easy prey, lying prone on the ground, was even more attractive to a predator. The cougar narrowed his amber eyes, wrinkling his muzzle. He bared his teeth and hissed at the stranger then focused his attention back on River.

  Time slowed as she watched the beast’s muscles bunch and twitch beneath his tawny hide. River didn’t want to witness her own gruesome death, but couldn’t look away when the cat leapt into the air.

  The outsider screamed, “No!” and launched himself at the cougar, ramming his shoulder into the animal’s ribs.

  River’s lungs finally responded to her body’s demand for air. She rolled to the side, grabbed an arrow off the ground and nocked it as she rose to one knee.

  The cougar clamped his jaws around the outsider’s left wrist then flung him to the ground with a jerk of his head, severing the man’s hand. He cried out, but it was a shout of anger, not pain.

  He sacrificed his hand to save my life. What sort of man does that for a stranger?

  The young man sprang to his feet and faced the cougar. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Stay behind me.”

  Even now, he protects me. River couldn’t see his injury since his back was turned, but there was no denying his courage—or stupidity. “Get down. You’re blocking my shot.”

  Instead of obeying her, he hefted the stick in his right hand and…twirled it.

  The cougar sprang into the air.

  The young man lunged to the side and smacked the cat on the back of the head as it flew past.

  Amazing!

  The cougar swayed on its feet for the briefest of moments then again focused his attention on River.

  She finally had a clear shot, but the young man’s shout distracted her before she could release the arrow.

  “Hey! Over here!”

  The cat snarled at the idiot, eyed his stick warily, then obviously decided he’d had enough of that nonsense and ran away.

  River released the tension on her bowstring and un-nocked her arrow then stood up.

  The young man picked his severed hand up off the ground then turned it every which way, examining it. “Shit. I’m going to need a new one.”

  He must be in shock. If River didn’t get a tourniquet around his arm soon, he’d bleed to death…except there wasn’t any blood.

  The young man tucked his severed hand under his left elbow then extended his right hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Jonathan McKnight.”

  River held her arms stiffly by her sides and stepped back. This outsider was probably infected with all sorts of diseases. “Your hand…why isn’t it bleeding?”

  Jonathan’s smile faded as he took his severed hand out from under his elbow and showed it to her. His voice was soft but respectful. “This is just a prosthesis.”

  River stepped back and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Some diseases were airborne.

  “It’s not going to hurt you.”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “I just saved your ass from that mountain lion.”

  “You’re contaminated.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Influenza, measles, strep, syphilis—”

  “Hey! I don’t have any STDs.”

  “You could be sick and not even know it.”

  “I’m not infected and even if I were, you can’t catch syphilis by shaking a guy’s hand.”

  “Influenza is airborne.”

  “Jeeze. What a germaphobe.”

  “My people don’t use outsider medicine. A bad case of strep throat could kill me.”

  “Your people?” He scanned her body, then locked his gaze on her bow. “Do you belong to some sort of anti-technology cult or something?”

  River pressed her lips together. She hadn’t mentioned New Eden, but telling him she was a part of a community bordered on treason.

  “There’s a blizzard coming. You need to leave.”

  “I need to find shelter. I was looking for a mine or cave to hole up in when that mountain lion surprised me.”

  “Where’s your camp?”

  “Destroyed by a black bear.” He grinned, displaying a set of perfect, white teeth and two dimples. “It seems the wildlife is out to get me. Two years ago I was chased by a wolf; a bear destroyed my campsite this morning; and now this.”

  “Maybe you should stay out of the wilderness.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” He rocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “I hate to ask, but can I stay at your place until the storm passes? I can sleep on the floor.”

  “My place?”

  “I assume you live nearby. Right?”

  “I don’t li
ve anywhere near here, but I know a place where we can find shelter.” Taking an outsider to the Enforcer’s cleansing station could land River in all sorts of trouble if anyone found out. But Jonathan had risked his life to save hers. Leaving him to fend for himself was a death sentence. Hopefully, she’d be able to escort him back to the border once the storm broke and no one would be the wiser. “You have to promise you’ll never come here again or reveal this location to anyone.”

  Jonathan

  “I don’t think I could find my way back here; even if I wanted to. How far is this shelter?”

  “About twenty miles.” River nodded towards the forest then gave Jonathan an appraising look. “Can you walk that far?”

  He could still do twenty miles in Army boots with a hundred pound pack on his back, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow River into the woods.

  Dressed in buckskin and armed with a primitive bow and arrows, there was no way she didn’t belong to a cult. If the twelve-inch leather sheath strapped to her boot was any indication of the blade she carried, he’d need to watch his back.

  She gave off a tough-as-nails vibe, but there was a certain vulnerability about her, too. What was she doing wandering around in the wilderness, all alone? Maybe she was a runaway.

  Jonathan’s only other choice was to keep going and hope he could climb to the mine he’d spotted half way up the mountain. It would be a lot harder without his prosthesis.

  He’d take his chances with Little Miss Pocahontas. He hoped she’d loosen up and tell him a little about herself during the hike. His curiosity was killing him. “So, what’s your name, kid?”

  “River, daughter of Asher and Issachar’s daughter. And I’m not a kid.”

  “What’s with the pedigree?”

  River narrowed her eyes at him. “Lineage is very important to my people. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Genealogy is important to my people, too.” Jonathan had never been bitten by the roots bug. Dad had tried to trace their line back to Scotland, where they’d obviously originated, but couldn’t get any further than his great-great-grandfather, the gold miner. “So, you’re Asher and Issachar’s daughter?”

  “Asher was my father. My mother was Issachar’s daughter.”

  “That’s a little confusing. Why not just use your mother’s name?”

  “Only alpha males are named.”

  “Alpha males? Like what, a wolf pack?”

  River’s eyes widened for a split second. “No more questions.”

  “I’m just trying to pass the time.”

  “Alright, then. How about you answer my questions?”

  “Why don’t we take turns?”

  River fastened a series of toggles and loops around the hood of her parka, snugging it around her face. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. You?”

  “Eighteen.”

  At least she was legal. “River’s a pretty name, for a pretty girl.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. “Are you trying to impress me?”

  Jonathan kept his stump behind his back as he walked and tried to fake the confidence and cockiness that used to come so naturally. “I’ve got a ton of cheesy pickup lines. How about—”

  “What’s a pickup line?”

  Seriously? “You know…what guys say to girls to let them know they’re interested.”

  “Interested in what?”

  She was either teasing him or incredibly naive. He decided to go with naive. “It’s a way for a guy to let a girl know he likes her and wants to spend time with her.”

  River’s lips twitched again, but this time she wasn’t able to hold back her smile. “You like me?”

  “What’s not to like? Any girl that can shoot a bow is sexy as hell.”

  River’s smile disappeared. She stepped sideways, away from Jonathan. “I’m not going to mate with you.”

  “Whoa!” Jonathan stopped and held his hand up, palm out. “I wasn’t implying—”

  “Sex is the same as mating.”

  “Sexy just means attractive.”

  “I’m not trying to attract you.”

  “I was just trying to be nice.” Jonathan rubbed his face with his hand. The tips of his fingers were completely numb. So was his nose. Not good. He pulled his prosthetic out from under his elbow and dropped it on the ground. It pained him to lose it, even though it was broken, but his real hand was more valuable. He tucked his numb fingers under his left armpit and prayed it would be enough. “How long until we get there?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never made the journey on foot.”

  River

  Even though it would make her life easier, River didn’t want Jonathan to die. She pulled her felt mask out of her pack and tossed it to him. “Your nose is turning white.”

  He managed to catch it and put it on, but just barely. His reflexes were obviously slowing down. She lost count of the number of times he stumbled and fell. Each time, it took longer for him to get up. And each time, she had to resist the urge to help him. He never complained, not once. She couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. She nudged his shoulder with her boot. “Get up.”

  Jonathan staggered to his feet. By journey’s end, he was weaving and slurring his words like a drunk. He was no longer shivering, but that was a bad sign. His lips were as blue as his eyes—also a bad sign. But the cleansing station was deserted when they got there and that was a very good sign.

  The cleansing station wasn’t off limits to the general population of New Eden, but since enforcers were the only ones allowed to cross the borders, no one else ever needed to use it. So, although River knew where the station was, she had no idea what to do when she got there. Luckily, someone had carved detailed instructions into the wooden door of the pre-cleanse hut:

  WARNING! Do not enter the post-cleanse hut until after completing the first cleanse unless given clearance by a commanding officer. Follow all instructions exactly. Failure to do so is punishable by death.

  River’s heart skipped a beat then hammered her chest. What had she gotten herself into?

  1. Use the outside access door to build a fire in the post-cleanse hut’s stove prior to cleansing during freezing weather. Failure to do so may result in death due to hypothermia.

  River sent Jonathan into the pre-cleanse hut to get him out of the wind then jogged over to the post-cleanse hut to build the fire. She brushed the snow off the tinder box and raised the lid. Not only did she find lint, wood shavings and a striker; there was a bundle of tallow-dipped twigs. Enforcers spared no expense. She’d have a roaring fire in no time.

  When the kindling caught, River double checked the flue then closed the access door. She waited until smoke flowed out of the chimney in an unbroken stream for three seconds then deemed it safe to leave the fire and go check on Jonathan.

  It was much warmer inside the pre-cleanse hut, but Jonathan didn’t look any better. He’d managed to prop himself up by sitting in a corner with his back against the wall, but he was barely conscious.

  River built a fire in the stove then poked at his legs with the toe of her boot until he opened his eyes.

  Jonathan

  Jonathan woke up with a start. “Stop kicking me.”

  “Then stay awake.” River pointed at a stack of wooden boxes on the opposite wall. “I need you to take off your clothes and put them in Reuben’s trunk.”

  “Whoa, don’t you think we should get better acquainted before we get naked?”

  River whipped her bow off her back and had an arrow aimed at Jonathan’s heart in less time than it took to blink. “I’m not going to mate with you!”

  Jonathan tucked his knees against his chest, guarding his vital organs. “You’re the one demanding I take off all my clothes.”

  River lowered her bow and eased the tension on the string, but she kept the arrow in place.

  Jonathan glanced at the boxes. They each had an old-fashioned biblical name c
arved into the hinged front.

  “Why do you want me to put my clothes in a box?”

  “So the omegas can…” River closed her eyes and took a noisy breath then opened them and glared at Jonathan. “Just…do as you’re told.”

  “Why do you want me naked?”

  “Do you bathe with your clothes on?”

  “I don’t see a bathtub.” The only thing in the one room shack, besides the pot-bellied stove, was the stack of boxes.

  “The cleansing pool is outside.”

  “Outside? I’ll freeze to death.”

  “It’s a hot mineral spring.” River took the arrow off the string and slid it into the leather quiver on her back.

  “Are you going to join me?” Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck and plastered a bored expression on his face, hoping that would counter the eagerness in his voice.

  “I haven’t touched you, so there’s no need.” She set her bow on top of the box with the name ‘Eli’ carved on the front.

  “Ah, back to that again. You still think I’m carrying some horrible disease?”

  River crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a precaution. There are certain protocols that must be followed.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is. Now, please, take off your clothes, put them in the box and get in the cleansing pool.” She turned on her heel and stomped outside, slamming the door behind her.

  Jonathan managed to unzip his jeans, but the button gave his frostbitten fingers all sorts of trouble. His stomach clenched as he examined his hand. The frostbite might blister, but it wasn’t severe enough to require amputation.

  He stripped down as fast as he could, but he left his boxers on. Jonathan wasn’t exactly modest. He’d showered with the guys in his unit every day for months, but River wasn’t a guy and she’d already made it clear she had no interest in anything physical with him.

  He couldn’t see the hot spring, but a cloud of steam rising out of the ground marked the spot. Jonathan yelled as he ran. It was the fastest—and most miserable—ten-yard dash he’d ever run. He didn’t know which was more painful; the arctic blasts driving pinpricks of snow and sleet into his bare chest, or the hot water on his frozen skin when he plunged into the rock-lined pool.

  The water smelled like rotten eggs, but that was a small price to pay for the pure bliss of finally being warm again. He gave in to his exhaustion and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard River scream.

  River

  River returned to the post-cleanse hut and used the stove’s outside access door to add another log to the fire then went back around to the front to read the next steps of the cleansing protocol.

  2. Enter the pre-cleanse hut. Remove all clothing, weapons and gear. Place in your assigned cedar box.

  “That’s done. What’s next?”

  3. Proceed directly to the first cleansing pool. Soak for forty-five minutes. Douse with clean water twenty times immediately prior to exiting. (If you did not have direct physical contact with an outsider or spend more than three days in their world, you may skip steps one through three.

  “Now they tell me.” She could have built the fire from inside the hut. Oh well.

  4. Enter the post-cleanse hut. Dress in purified clothing.

  5. If you’ve consumed any outsider food or liquid, an eight hour purge followed by a three day fast is mandatory.

  River opened the door and frowned when a sour, musty odor assaulted her nose. At least it was warm inside. The stove had only been going for about ten minutes, but the hut was small and easy to heat. She propped the door open, hoping to air out the stench before it was time to go get Jonathan.

  What was causing that smell? Three bunk beds lined the right wall. She checked each one and while none of them smelled especially good, they weren’t the culprit.

  She checked the six cedar chests on the opposite wall, but the purified clothing inside smelled wonderful; lavender, sage, cedar and smoke. She saved Reuben’s box for last.

  River hated it when Reuben had to leave the safety of New Eden and venture into the outside world on a mission. She was so afraid she’d never see him again. That he’d get sick and die before completing quarantine, like Father. But when Reuben returned he always smelled clean, pure and safe. She closed her eyes and drank in the scent before closing the lid.

  There was a smaller, unmarked cedar box next to the door. River lifted the lid and found the source of the odor—a pile of vomit-stained rags.

  River slammed the lid and backed away from the box. Why hadn’t the omegas cleaned this up?

  A chill raced down her spine. It wouldn’t be the first time disease wiped out the entire omega camp assigned to the cleansing station.

  River’s pulse roared behind her ears. A gray fog tunneled her vision. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her bare hands that had touched the contaminated box. River screamed and ran out of the hut, shedding her coat, vest and tunic as she flew towards the cleansing pool.

  Jonathan

  Jonathan jumped to his feet, sloshing water onto the stone border. “River? Are you okay?”

  She barreled toward him at a dead run, peeling her clothes off.

  Jonathan scanned the area, looking for a threat but found none. Just because he didn’t see it; didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He vaulted out of the pool and ran towards River.

  Her wide, glassy eyes had the battle-shocked look he’d seen on the faces of so many people in Afghanistan. She veered around him without a word.

  “Hey! What’s going on?”

  She didn’t answer. She sat down in the snow next to the hot spring and yanked her boots off, tossing them over her shoulders. She shimmied out of her pants then plunged down the steps and ducked under the surface of the hot water.

  Jonathan ran back to the pool and jumped in.

  When she resurfaced, she had her fingers tangled in her braid.

  “What the hell is going on? Is someone chasing you? Are you in danger?”

  She ducked back underwater and didn’t come up until her hair was completely undone. “I’m contaminated!”

  “I haven’t even touched you.” The girl wasn’t just a germaphobe. She was a complete nutcase.

  “Not you.” She stood up and held her hands in front of her body. “I touched a sick man’s box.”

  “Okay…” Jonathan tried to avert his gaze away from her chest, but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. Her hair covered her breasts, but not the edge of a tribal tattoo over her heart. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “I’m gonna die!”

  “What kind of sickness did this guy have?”

  “I don’t know, but the box was full of filthy rags that had been used to clean up vomit!” She turned around and grabbed a nearby bucket then doused herself with water from the pool.

  Jonathan waited for her to catch her breath then pointed to the hand carved message on the wooden sign behind her. “According to those instructions, part of this cleansing ritual is purging. Doesn’t that mean making yourself puke?”

  River slumped forward and grabbed the stone border. “You’re right.”

  She had her back turned, so Jonathan didn’t feel quite as pervy as he probably should have for checking her out. She was petite, about five feet, three inches tall, but with the arms and shoulders of a swimmer. At first he’d thought her thick, dark brown hair was wavy, but that must have been from the braid. It flowed down her back then floated on the surface of the water like a sheet of melted chocolate. Jonathan tucked his hand under his elbow to keep from reaching out to touch it.

  River doused herself another nine times then sat down, submerging her breasts. This gave him a chance to study her tattoo. The design looked like a dog, or maybe a wolf with an arrow through its neck. He wanted to ask her what it meant, but tattoos could be really personal.

  He’d thought about getting one after Franklin’
s funeral, but Frankie would’ve hated that. He believed the human body was a sacred temple and tattoos were nothing but sacrilegious graffiti. Jonathan ran his fingers over the back of his medallion. Brothers forever.

  River sniffed, snapping Jonathan out of his sentimental trance. Tears leaked out of the corners of her closed eyes, but it was her trembling lower lip that tugged at his heart.

  He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek.

  All hell broke loose.

  The water churned as River thrashed around, obviously trying to get away from Jonathan.

  “River? What’s wrong?”

  “You touched me.”

  Seriously? “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But I’m not sick. I haven’t had so much as a cold for over a year. You’re not going to catch anything from me.”

  “It’s forbidden for a man to touch a woman in the cleansing pool.”

  “But it’s okay for you to prance around in front of me buck naked? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It’s a rule. It doesn’t have to make sense.” River closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them.

  “I take it there’re a lot of rules?”

  She nodded.

  “What happens if the rules are broken?”

  “The offenders are punished.”

  “Okay.” Jonathan figured as much. “What’s the punishment for touching a woman in a cleansing pool?”

  “I’m not going to report the incident since you didn’t know the rules.”

  “But if I had?”

  “If you could not convince the council that the touch was an accident, they would cut off one finger for the first offense.”

  Jonathan’s stomach clenched. This was bad. Afghanistan bad.

  River leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “How did you lose your hand?”

  He tucked his wrist under his elbow and hugged it to his chest. “It wasn’t a punishment.”

  “Then why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because I don’t like to talk about it!” Jonathan didn’t mean to yell, but River’s questions were stirring up too many painful memories.

  She gasped and blinked her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Jonathan stretched his hand out to brush the fresh tears off her cheek.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Shit!” Jonathan jerked his hand back. “I’m sort of programmed to comfort girls when they cry and that usually involves quite a bit of touching.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” River swiped at her eyes then wrinkled her nose and stared at her fingertips; as if they were smeared with blood instead of tears. “I don’t cry. Ever.”

  “Everybody cries.”

  “Not me.” River stood up without warning. “The post-cleanse hut may not be contaminated, but there’s no way of knowing for certain. I think we better skip it and go straight to the quarantine cabin.”

  Jonathan averted his gaze, but not quick enough. The girl was a nut job, no doubt about it, but she was sexy as hell. “Um…you go ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  The quarantine cabin was less than fifty yards from the hot spring, but Jonathan’s hair crackled with ice before he reached the porch. He yanked the door open and hurried inside.

  River stood in front of the stove, buck naked. What kind of game was she playing? She’d had plenty of time to get dressed. At least she had her back to him.

  She turned around and arched her eyebrows then pointed at his boxers. “What are those?”

  Jonathan blushed like a school girl. “What? You’ve never heard of underwear?”

  “I told you to take off all your clothes.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “You can’t keep anything that came from the outside world. Except maybe that chain and medallion around your neck. Is that solid gold?”

  “Twenty-four karat.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch the medallion that held Franklin’s feather. It was twisted around so all that showed was the solid gold back. That resin-encased feather was worth more to Jonathan than a mountain of gold. The only way anyone was taking it, was out of his cold, dead fist. “Why can’t I wear my own clothes?”

  “They’re not allowed.”

  “I could wash them in the hot springs.”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You leave everything behind when you join us. It’s like being reborn.”

  “I’m not joining you. This is temporary.” Jonathan cupped his hand over the front of his boxers to hide the effect River’s naked body was having on his.

  She wrinkled her nose and snarled at him. “Stop playing with yourself. What are you? A toddler?”

  “I’m not playing with myself! And I’m certainly not a toddler. I’m a man. And seeing a woman’s naked body does things to a man.”

  River rolled her eyes. “You need to control yourself. I already told you I don’t want to mate with you.”

  “Where I come from, people don’t prance around in the nude if they don’t want to mate.”

  “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

  Jonathan kept himself covered with his hand and pointed at her with his stump. “I’m going to go put my underwear in the box with the rest of my clothes. When I return you better be dressed.”

  Jonathan grumbled under his breath as he jogged all the way back to the first hut. By the time he got there, his skin was blue. He threw his boxers in Reuben’s trunk with the rest of his clothes then ran to the hot spring. He needed to warm up before hiking back to the quarantine cabin. Besides, he wanted to be sure River had enough time to get dressed. What a tease. He soaked in the steaming water until he was dizzy from the heat.

  When he returned, River was wearing a short, white nightgown that ended about four inches above her knees. She’d also braided her hair. It hung down her back in a thick damp rope that ended just above the curve of her butt. She still looked sexy as hell, but he could handle it…as long as she kept her back turned.

  A tea kettle on top of the old-fashioned wood burning stove whistled. River moved it to a sturdy pine table and set it down. She waved towards the six cedar boxes stacked up against the wall without looking at him. “See if you can find something that fits you in Eli’s trunk.”

  The quarantine cabin was three times as big as the first shack, but it still felt crowded. Three bunk beds, jammed head to foot on the opposite wall took up half the floor space.

  Jonathan opened Eli’s trunk and peered inside. “Are you sure this guy won’t care if I borrow his clothes?”

  “With a little luck, you’ll be long gone before he ever finds out.”

  Not quite the answer Jonathan was hoping for. But what choice did he have? He dug all the way to the bottom of the wooden chest, looking for something that resembled boxers. “Where’s the underwear?”

  River snorted. “We don’t use underwear.”

  Jonathan looked at the well-worn buckskin pants and groaned. “Oh, man. That’s just gross.”

  “Everything’s been purified.”

  “How?” Jonathan glanced over his shoulder to be sure River still had her back turned. She did. “You can’t toss any sort of leather in a washing machine and I’m willing to bet this stuff’s never been dry cleaned.”

  “Our smoke sheds are dry.” River turned around and scowled at him.

  “Do you mind?” Jonathan covered himself with the wadded up pants.

  River rolled her eyes, again, before turning her back.

  “If you don’t quit rolling your eyes, they’re going to get stuck in the back of your head.” Jonathan lifted the buckskin pants to his face and took a wary sniff. They smelled like leather, wood smoke and cedar. People had used smoke to cure meat for centuries. But would that be enough to cure any nasties on Eli’s clothes? You couldn’t get AIDS or herpes from wearing someone else’s clothes, but what about crabs? He could either wear what Ri
ver gave him, or go naked.

  Jonathan gritted his teeth and slid into Eli’s pants. They were a little tight around his thighs and calves, but other than that, they fit like a second skin. There was just one problem. Instead of a fly with buttons or a zipper, the front of the pants laced up over a flap of leather with a rawhide string. Tying his shoes was one of the first things Jonathan had learned in occupational therapy, but it was still going to take him awhile to get it done without his prosthesis.

  “Do you need any help?”

  Jonathan glanced over his shoulder.

  River stood behind him, arms folded across her chest.

  How long had the little perv been watching him? “Aren’t you scared I’ll contaminate you?”

  “You’re clean now. Except for any airborne illnesses.” River closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “And it’s too late to worry about that now. I’ve already breathed your air.”

  “And I already told you. I’m not sick.” Jonathan unfolded the shirt. It looked just like River’s old-fashioned nightgown, only shorter. The round neck cinched up with a drawstring cord. Great. More strings to tie.

  The shirt started itching the minute he put it on. “What is this? Wool?”

  “It’s goat hair.”

  “Goat hair?” Jonathan bunched up the fabric in his fist and held it away from his chest.

  River scowled at him. “What’s your problem?”

  “It itches.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Jonathan seriously doubted it, but he wasn’t going to be there long enough to find out. As soon as the weather cleared, he was outta there.

  “Put this on.” River handed him a thick leather vest that also laced up the front. Jonathan wasn’t sure what purpose the vest served until he put it on. It held the excess fabric of the shirt against his body and out of his way, creating a layer of insulation. If he’d been wearing this get-up during the hike from hell, he wouldn’t have gotten so cold.

  “Here, try these.” River handed him a pair of fur-lined boots with, of course, more laces. Jonathan was surprised to find a pair of socks stuffed into the toes. “How come I get socks but no underwear?”

  “Socks serve a purpose. They keep your feet dry so your toes don’t freeze off.”

  “As much as I like my toes, I’d rather protect the parts of my body that would be covered by underwear.”

  River made a broth out of jerky she found in a cupboard. Jonathan would have rather just eaten the jerky—there seemed to be plenty of it—but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

  As soon as it got too dark to see, they went to bed. Jonathan couldn’t get comfortable. The straw mattress was lumpy and smelled like a wet dog. His borrowed pants kept getting twisted every time he rolled over. His upper body was still itchy, even after removing the goat hair shirt. And River was sleeping naked.

  When Jonathan woke up the next morning, his bladder screamed for relief. River was already up, and from the looks of her, she hadn’t slept very well either. She’d obviously been crying. Was she still worried about getting sick? “Hey, kid, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t sound fine, but she obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Um…is there an outhouse or something?”

  River shook her head. “There’s a chamber pot in that closet.”

  There was no way he was using a chamber pot. Not for taking a leak—actually, not for anything. He’d dig a latrine with a stick if he had to. “Any objections to using a tree?”

  “Piss off the edge of the porch. Just be sure the wind’s at your back.”

  “How stupid do you think I am?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re going outside to piss in a blizzard.”

  The wind nearly tore the door out of Jonathan’s hand when he opened it. He wrapped his left arm around the porch post to keep from getting blown over. It was a good thing he decided to come with River instead of trying to make it on his own. There was no way he would have survived this. He’d thought the blizzard was bad the day before, but it was much worse that morning, with zero visibility. A total white out. The wind chill factor had to be at least fifty below. The chamber pot might not be such a bad idea.

  Jonathan made sure everything was covered then hurried back inside to retie his pants.

  River was squatting in front of the stove, poking at the fire with her back to Jonathan. “Were you dreaming about your mate last night?”

  “Mate? You mean like a wife?”

  River nodded but didn’t turn around.

  “I’m not married. Not even close.” Carrie changed the status of her Facebook page to ‘single’ three months after Jonathan deployed. She’d visited him once at the VA hospital in Denver during his recovery, but she’d brought her new boyfriend along for the ride.

  “Then who’s Frankie?”

  A fist of pain squeezed Jonathan’s heart.

  River didn’t give him a chance to answer. “You called out her name several times last night.”

  “Franklin was my brother, my twin.”

  She shut the stove door and turned around. “Was?”

  Jonathan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He hated saying it out loud. Hated the finality of it, the shocked reactions, the pity, the gut-wrenching agony of remembering. “He died.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Sweat beaded across Jonathan’s brow. Please, just let it go.

  “How long has it been since you lost him?”

  “I didn’t lose him, okay!” Jonathan had a hard time reacting appropriately when anyone spoke of Franklin’s death as a ‘loss.’ As if he’d misplaced his brother. Gone off and left him at the mall or something. “He was blown to bits when we hit a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.”