Free The Bearwalker's Daughter by Beth Trissel Page A

delicate condition.”
    Karin’s cheeks heated at his reference to her mother’s illicit pregnancy. “Perhaps a loose floorboard or a chink in the wall? Let’s spread out,” she said, not trusting herself to be this near him. “I’ll try the floor.”
    Not risking a backwards glance, she dropped to her knees on the dusty boards and hitched up her skirts. Crawling along, she prodded at the wood with her fingers. If a furtive place existed anywhere here she’d find it. Kindling crackled while rain squalled outside, but it was warm and safe in the cabin, except for Jack.
    Was any woman safe with him? Karin actually craved another heated kiss. Exasperated by her unruly emotions she pummeled the floor harder than necessary in her search.
    “Trying to pop those boards out?” he chuckled.
    Did nothing escape his notice?
    “Want my tomahawk? You could chop at them.”
    “No thank you.”
    “Take care not to injure those soft hands.”
    She sat back on her heels and lifted her eyes to where he stood running his hands over the log wall.
    “I’m not unused to work. Just because I’m not callused like you—” She halted at his grin.
    “Nary an inch of you is anything like me.”
    “And how would you know?” she shot back, immediately wishing she hadn’t.
    His grin only broadened.
    Cheeks flaming, she returned to this seemingly insurmountable task and her vain efforts to ignore Jack, accompanied by wind, rain, and fire.
    It occurred to Karin that her mother heard these same sounds that distant autumn, along with the clatter of the family going about their daily chores and the noise from the many animals that made up their lives. What thoughts had oppressed the distraught woman? Was it Karin’s father, alone? Why did he go?
    A dark weight from the past overshadowed the present. What did Jack know that he wasn’t saying? The mutterings in the wind were more insistent than ever, summoning Karin, though she didn’t know where.
    Oh, let the voices scream away. They told her nothing more than anyone else had.
    Knees sore, dispirited, she reached the other side of the room, no further ahead than before. Jack still stood at the wall, running his hands along the logs, probing each chink. “I’ve crawled over every inch,” she said. Straightening wearily, she sank down onto the bedstead. The straw ticking in the thin mattress supported her as she flopped onto her back and stared up at the darkened beams overhead. “The secrets of the past are well guarded.”
    “Or hidden beneath you.”
    She glanced around. He’d turned toward her, his partly shadowed features seeming perfectly sincere. “How so?”
    “Your mother spent her final hours where you lie now.”
    “And hid the necklace in the ticking? Impossible. Neeley replaced the straw. She would have seen it.”
    “Not if it were hidden below that.”
    “A lattice of hemp rope supports the mattress. You think it’s tucked inside?”
    ‘“Maybe.”
    Skeptical, she pushed up on her elbows to watch him stride across the room and kneel by the bedstead. She rolled onto her side on the musty blue coverlet as he bent over and looked under the bed. Flattened onto his stomach, he scooted partway beneath the frame.
    Curious despite herself, she asked, “See anything?”
    “Not yet.” He disappeared further beneath the bed. “Nothing up in the crisscross of hemp.”
    As she thought. Her spirits dipped.
    “Wait.” A note of excitement rose in his voice. “There’s something in the wall.”
    A thrill darted through her. “What?”
    “The light’s poor, but I spy a knothole. I’ll see if it’s loose.” A scrabbling sound ensued, likely him trying to work the knot from the wood. She strained to hear.
    “I’ve got it out, but my hand’s too large to reach inside. There’s an opening there, though.” He scooted back out, his hair draped with cobwebs. “Your hand’s smaller. See what you can do.” He brushed at his hair.
    Heart in her throat, she slid off