Free Come Spring by Jill Marie Landis Page A

loud and long that she had to relieve herself. Buck finally walked her into a thick stand of trees, intricately tied one end of a rope to her waist and one to his wrist. He told her she had fifteen seconds.
    She was too cold and tired, too scared of the black forest around her to even think of escape. She hurried through her task and returned to his side. Determined to fight him every step of the way, she refused when he offered her water to wash her hands and face.
    She could tell by his reaction that he didn’t take kindly to her stubbornness. When he turned his back on her and led her toward the horses, she tried to smooth her hair, but found it hopelessly tangled. Her hat, or what was left of it, was tilted rakishly to the side of her head. The once-jaunty feather was missing, the hatband loose and trailing over one ear. She ripped the band off and tossed it aside, hoping anyone who might be following their trail would find it. Farther along, she thought about unpinning her hat and dropping it too, but it had become a talisman, a symbol of the civilization she had left behind. No matter how badly battered it had become, she refused to throw her hat away.
    It was late afternoon the next day when they reached a pass high in the mountains. The snow had begun hours earlier and continued to drift down in silent, silver dollar-sized flakes. Annika had long since drawn the blanket up over her head, her hat included, and huddled under it. Snow mounded in the hills and valleys of the folds of the blanket. She stared down at her lap, too tired to care where they were going, and watched the wet snow deepen on her lap.
    As they started down the pass into a small valley divided by a twisted creek, she could no longer hold up her head. Maybe I’ll fall off Her thoughts drifted lazily as she dozed. Maybe then he’ll be sorry.
    B UCK glanced over his shoulder and tried to see through the thick curtain of falling snow. Alice was weaving dangerously in the saddle, her head bowed over her hands. He stopped his own horse and pulled her mare up beside him. They had made it over the pass in good time. He could afford to stop.
    When Alice’s mount came alongside him, Buck dismounted. Without disturbing her, he climbed up behind. He wrapped his arms around her, gently pulled her back into his embrace, and kicked the horse on at an easy walking gait. The longer Alice slept the better she would feel when she woke up. At least that was what he hoped, anyway. Maybe a little sleep would improve her disposition.
    As they rode down the trail into the valley, he thought about the consequences of his actions if she happened to be telling the truth. If the girl in his arms was not Alice Soams, then he most likely would be forced to pay for his actions when the truth came out. But deep down he still believed she was Alice, and deep down inside where it hurt, he knew why she was denying it. Who’d want to marry a no-account trapper anyway?
    He was angry for having had such a stupid idea as marriage in the first place, but then, his hopes and dreams had never been very realistic. When he was a young boy he had dreamed of becoming a doctor. At twelve, he saw that hope disappear. Not too many years back he had used his untrained skill and prayed he’d be able to save Sissy’s life when she took sick. But he’d lost her. He thought he could take care of Patsy, too, thought he could keep her safe until she got so bad he couldn’t reason with her or break through the shell of insanity that held her in its grip. Finally, he’d been forced to take her away. It was one of the worst things he’d ever had to do, and he’d had to do some pretty horrible things in his life.
    Alice swayed. He pulled her closer. She was a sight. Not quite the polished lady he had first laid eyes on. Covered with trail dust, her hair was soaked and dripping with melted snow. The little hat she’d been wearing so proudly was battered and useless, squashed flat beneath the