To Have and to Hold by Charlene Raddon

Author:Charlene Raddon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, historical, historical romance, western, western romance, tirgearr publishing, tirgearr
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

Chapter 16

The next morning brought three visitors. The first was a homesteader who wanted to buy a mule and did his best to talk Buck out of Spook. The second was Beaver Hanks, the redheaded, freckle-faced trapper who had helped Tempest finish the dugout, and returned occasionally to check on her.

Ignoring the entire season’s worth of grease and dried gore the man wore on his fringed buckskins—and the glower on Buck’s face—Tempest greeted Hanks with an enthusiastic hug. When they parted, Angel climbed into Hanks’ wiry arms and smacked a kiss on his whiskered cheek, while Ethan stood at the man’s mocassined feet tugging on his buckskin pants and shouting, “Beeber, Beeber.”

Buck hated the man on sight.

“Brung ya some venison,” Hanks said, digging into his packsaddle.

Taking the meat from him, Tempest kiss his cheek. “You’ve a heart of gold, Beaver. Thank you.”

Buck uttered a silent snort. The man’s heart might be gold, but his lanky body had the substance of a rainbow. He wasn't the type to arouse a woman’s passion, Buck assured himself. Besides, he smelled like rotten hides and the musky stink of beaver castorium.

“Brung you young’uns sumpthin’, too.” The children jumped up and down in excitement while Hanks pulled child-sized hats of raccoon fur from his pack. The animal's face peered out from the front and its striped tail dangled down the back. Dew claws from the hooves of a buck deer clattered lightly in the breeze where they hung on short thongs at the back.

“Yippie, Uncle Beaver, you brought me a hat jutht like yourth." Reverently, Angel placed the hat on her head and beamed up at the adults for approval. Ethan hugged his to his chest as if it were a stuffed toy animal, and rubbed his cheek with its fur.

Buck wanted to puke. He hovered in the background, arms crossed over his chest, feet firm on the ground, waiting for Tempest to remember he existed. There were new moccasins for her and the children as well. With the gay laughter of a child Tempest kicked off her old worn ones and donned the new ones.

Finally Angel turned to Buck. “Look, Papa Buck. Look what Uncle Beaver brought me.”

Hanks flame-colored eyebrows rose at the title the girl had given Buck, but all he said as he extended his hand was, “Folks call me Beaver Hanks, and since it’s a helluva lot better than the handle my pappy hung on me, I let ‘em.”

The man’s green eyes held no sign of rancor, only geniality tinged with humor and perhaps a hint of wariness. Feeling a totally masculine need to establish his territory, Buck drew Tempest to his side. “I’m Skeet, Tempest’s husband.”

“Well, now, I’m right glad to know she ain’t alone no more.” Hanks smiled but the look in the trapper’s eye said he hadn't forgotten Skeet's past behavior, and was withholding his approval.

"Let's go in," Tempest suggested, her gaze going from one man to the other. "I'll cook up some deer steaks."

Buck turned to follow her into the house.

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