The Treasure

By Theresa Scott

Washington Territory, the frontier, 1825. Gentle Fawn and her beloved husband Hawk Catcher's desperate hopes for a baby plummet until that magical Christmas Eve when their deepest prayers are answered... by two bumbling trappers and a goat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theresa Scott
• Release date: Oct 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301661930

Theresa Scott

About the AuthorTheresa Scott is a novelist who writes historical and contemporary romance. She is currently working on her “Raven Immortals” series, which follows the adventures of the men and women who spent their lives working in the North American fur trade in the late 1820s.Theresa's books have sold over 600,000 copies worldwide, including the US, Canada, Australia, France, India, Italy, Germany, Holland, Spain, Taiwan, and the United Kingdom.She sets her stories in a variety of centuries and cultures, ranging from prehistoric times, to Norse times, to the days of the fur trade, and the wild west.Growing up in a small coastal fishing village, Theresa spent her time fishing for perch, swimming, climbing trees, and hiking the nearby beaches and forests. She has also lived in a small cabin in the woods in British Columbia, fetching water from a stream, and chopping wood for an old iron cook-stove that did double duty for cooking and keeping the cabin warm.These experiences, plus her educational background in Anthropology and summers spent on archaeological digs, filled her imagination with stories. Most of all, she writes about how love gives meaning to one's life. How people treat one another, how they interact with cultural 'rules,' or how they explain the world to themselves: all of it serves the bigger story that Love is a magnificent gift to humanity.Theresa makes her home in the beautiful Pacific Northwest where she and her in-house Archaeologist--who also happens to be her kind and patient husband--live with their little dog and the joys of electricity and running water."Theresa Scott's stories are distinctive, well-plotted and unforgettable." ~Debbie Macomber“Theresa Scott's captivating writing brings you to a wondrous time and shows you that love itself is timeless.” ~ Affaire de CoeurWebsite address: https://www.theresascott.comSubscribe to Theresa's newsletter: https://www.theresascott.com/contact.html

Book preview

Relief flooded through him.

Hawk Catcher spotted Gentle Fawn in the distance.

He moved closer, knowing she had wanted to be alone, but he could not help himself. He had to see her, to know she was safe.

He crept forward quietly. She had keen hearing and he did not want to scare her...

Praise for Theresa Scott

Theresa Scott’s captivating writing brings you to a wondrous time and shows you that love itself is timeless!

~Affaire de Coeur

The Treasure

by

Theresa Scott

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Treasure

COPYRIGHT © 1995 by Theresa Scott

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design

Visit Theresa at www.theresascott.com

Published by Theresa Scott 2013

Previously published by:

The Wild Rose Press, 2010

Leisure/Dorchester Publishing, Inc., 1995

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

For my beloved husband, Rob.

Chapter One

Near Fort McCraig, Washington Territory

Winter, 1825

She’s daid. What do we do with the baby?

Trader Elijah Bolls glared down at the Indian woman who had just given birth, then died. A chill winter wind fluttered her hair and blew black strands across the naked squirming body of her baby boy as if to keep him warm even in her death.

No husband neither, answered Jesse Plank. Why’d she have to go and die?

Just makes more trouble for us, complained Bolls. Ah geez, look at that. What’s he doin’? It’s gettin’ all over.

The two traders stood shaking their heads in disgust. Bolls, the older one, was a stout man inclined to giving orders. His deep-set blue eyes peered out of a weathered face covered in gray stubble. Planke was leaner and taller. He kept his shoulders hunched to the wind and pushed a scrap of lank brown hair out of his eyes. He was inclined to take orders. Both men wore leather tunics and trousers, and floppy leather hats.

One of the packhorses snorted. Let’s go, said Bolls. I want to reach Fort McCraig by nightfall.

Aw, let’s have a wee drinkie first, said Planke.

Obligingly, Bolls walked over to the nearest packhorse and fished around in the saddlebag. Triumphantly, he withdrew a flask of whiskey and waved it aloft. A baby. This calls for a celebration!

No, it don’t, replied Planke. Daid woman. Baby. Nothing to celebrate about that.

Bolls took a long draught of the whiskey. Yer right, he agreed.

The baby gave a little cough, the first sound he’d made since both men arrived.

The traders’ eyes were drawn to him. Bolls said, Guess we better bury the woman.

Why?

Bolls shrugged. That’s the proper thing to do, ain’t it? Coyotes or wolves will get her otherwise.

Planke glanced around. "It is gettin’ dark, he allowed. Guess it wouldn’t hurt. That way no wolves will get us."

Bolls laughed and took another swig from the flask. Want some? Grave diggin’ is hard work.

Planke took a swig and then the two traders set to digging. Once the grave was finished, they walked back to the dead woman.

That baby still alive? asked Bolls in some surprise.

Yep, sure looks like it, agreed Planke.

Both men stared at the baby, whose fists were waving. Take him off her, said Bolls.

Planke bent and cut the umbilical cord with his hunting knife. Then he gingerly lifted the baby off the mother. Sure is tiny, he observed. Cold, too.

Won’t last long in this wind, said Bolls. He took a step closer and peered at the baby in Planke’s hands. Say, I just thought o’ somethin’.

Yeah? What?

I bet ol’ Factor Hayes at Fort McCraig would pay a good chunk of gold for this here baby, said Bolls thoughtfully.

You think so? Planke’s gray eyes lit up with greed.

I heard tell he’s been wantin’ a son.

Planke chuckled. Well now, just maybe we got the son for him.

Both men laughed. Bolls took another swig of whiskey. He held the flask to Planke’s lips so he could drink while he held the baby. To celebrate, explained Bolls. We just found ourselves a gold mine.

****

The fur traders built their campfire next to the freshly mounded grave.

This baby stinks, observed Planke.

He shore do. It’s your turn to wash him in the crick.

I did it last time. It’s yourn.

’Tis not.

Well, haill. If you don’t wash him, and I don’t wash him, he’s gonna stink worse.

That’s so, agreed Planke. Tell you what. You wash him in the crick, and I’ll milk ol’ nanny goat.

Bolls grimaced. If it weren’t for old man Hayes payin’ us so much gold for this here baby, why, I’d—

Aw, he’s gonna pay us. He’s gonna pay us good, said Planke. I kin feel it in my bones.

That brought a grimace to Bolls’ lips. I seem to remember your bones bein’ wrong a time or two.

"Not this