“Is it true that everyone is rich in America?” Malcolm asked on their way back to camp.
“It depends on how you define rich,” Burke said, seeing in Malcolm what he had seen in so many young foreigners who arrived on the shores of America—the promise of hope.
“Money, land, food aplenty for family and friends,” Malcolm said.
“With hard work and some sacrifice, it’s possible,” Burke assured him.
“I heard those same words told to friends who left Scotland to seek a better life in Canada, only to discover more hardships.”
“Forging a life out of the wilderness takes courage, sustaining it takes hard work.”
“Especially if you’re an outlaw.” Malcolm laughed.
“How did all of you come to be together?”
“Storm has rules we all agreed to follow. One of them is never to discuss the group with strangers. You, Burke, are a stranger.”
He was candid and emphatic and Burke respected both.
“Storm’s quite a woman,” Burke said, attempting another approach.
“Can’t discuss her either. You need to direct all inquiries to Storm. She’s the only one with the authority to give you answers. She’s probably by the creek over there.” He pointed to a barely visible path to the right. “She usually washes up at the creek after returning from a mission. I’ll see that the women get the game for tonight’s meal.”
Burke nodded and followed the path, if it could be called that, the forest having reclaimed most of it. It did, however, lead him to the creek and Storm. She sat on the ground a few feet from the creek in clean trousers and a tan shirt, combing her wet hair with her fingers.
“How did the hunting go, Burke?”
He approached her with a laugh. “How did you know it was me and not Malcolm?”
“A couple of weeks in prison leaves a man with a distinct odor.” She held up a bundle of clothes. “I stopped to see if you spoke with Janelle. When I found out you didn’t I took the liberty of picking up some clothes for you.”
Burke took them from her. “Intended to find me, did you?”
“No. I knew once you discovered I had already sent men after your brother, you’d find me.”
Burke dropped the clothes beside her and stripped off his shirt. “I wanted to thank you for handling the matter so quickly and efficiently.”
He held on to his shirt and noticed that she kept her eyes focused on his face. He had never considered himself a handsome man; years spent out in the rough winters had toughened his skin and added a flurry of lines around his eyes. He probably looked well past his twenty-nine years.
“Feel free to strip and wash up, Mr. Longton,” she said to his surprise. “I don’t wilt at the sight of a naked man.”
“Seen naked men before, have you?” He had to ask.
“Yes,” she answered with a smile and shook her head, to fluff her drying hair with her fingers.
The silky black strands fell together like a fine piece of wool cloth woven to perfection. Her skin was the color of rich cream, and he wondered if the taste was as potent.
He turned abruptly and walked to the creek. He needed to cool off. He bent down and stuck his head in the refreshing cool water, and as he came up, he wiped his face and neck clean with his hands. He then rinsed off his arms and chest, not caring that the water ran down to soak his trousers.
He wanted to make certain he freed himself of the heat that had set his blood on fire and had him ready to crawl out of his skin. And all because of a woman who obviously was familiar with naked men.
He dried himself off and marched back over to her. “How many men?”
“Excuse me?”
“How many men have you seen naked?”
“I don’t see what business that is of yours,” she said calmly.
“I don’t either but I’m curious,” he admitted.
“Your honesty at times amazes me.”
“My father taught me to be an honorable and honest man.”
“Do you wonder if your brother is like you?”
Burke tossed his wet shirt aside and sat down beside Storm. “I have wondered since first learning about him when I was young. Had anyone helped him? Was he still alive? Had he had a harsh life? My father searched tirelessly for him and blamed himself for what had happened.”
“He couldn’t have taken a babe to America with him. He did the right thing. It wasn’t his fault his sister-in-law died.”
“Tell that to a grief-stricken father who beyond death continues to search for his son, through his other son. I don’t intend to fail my father. I will find Cullen and bring him home.”
“What if he doesn’t want to go?” she asked.