His mind returning to his present surroundings, Jacques' gaze fell on Cheyenne. She had finnished her meal, and was begining to clear the table. Though her birth had always brought forth some very painful memories for him, Jacques could not fathom what his life would be without her.

As he silently watched Cheyenne ready water to boil in order to wash their dishes a frown scarred his forehead. Would she ever know love as he did with her mother? Cheyenne was nearing the age where most young women's minds turned to thoughts of marriage and children. Yet, she seemed to take no interest in such feminine acts, preferring to aid in the trap lines and accompay Jacqes to town only with the intent of selling furs. On their trips into town Cheyenne seemed oblivious to the stolen glances, or for that matter, the outright leers, delt out by passing men. Jacques had not once witnessed his daughter show interest in a gentleman she came into contact with. No, Jacques admitted to himself, that was not entirely the truth. During Josiah's last few visits Jacques had noticed a slight change in Cheyenne demeanor. Her actions seemed infused with a nervous excitment that betrayed her usual behaviour. This, on it's own, Jaques could have dismissed. It was the way he had caught his daughter looking at Josiah that fueled his anxiouty. He had seen that loving gaze before. It was the same one Raven had exchanged with him so many years ago. If he read Cheyenne's emotions correctly, then his heart ached for his daughter. For he worried that the love would never be returned in the same depth. Josiah cared dearly for Cheyenne, this Jacques was sure of, but was there passion in that love? Or was friendship the root of Josiah's feelings? All of Josiah's actions seemed to indicate the latter, Jacques mused. Yet, he had always heard that the greatest loves began with friendship. Either way, Jaques knew that his friend would always be there for Cheyenne, in one form or another.

Suddenly Jacques caught himself, realising he had sat in silence for many minutes, whithout so much as a word to his guest. Focusing his attention back to Josiah he said, "Friend, will you be making the trapping rounds with me tomorow morning?" "Now, Jaques." Josiah replied, "You know that is one of my favorite times when I visit. Wild horses couldn't keep me from it!" Later on that afternoon, all three busied themselves with chores in an attemp to free up the evening for visiting. Jacques was doing mantinance on his traps, while Josiah had offered to split fire wood.

Cheyenne exited the log cabin, carrying a basket of washing, and proceeded to wash basin. As she made her way to the sunny spot she had chosen for a work area, her eyes fell on Josiah chopping wood. She watched intently as he picked up another log, and placed it on the chopping block. Josiah placed the axe on the log, as if to mark his target. With one fliud motion, he swung the axe over his head, and brought it crashing down. The log was no match for the muscular man,with the axe dividing it like a hot knife through butter. Cheyenne, impressed by Josiah's display of strength, allowed her eyes to linger on him as she arrived at the washboard and basin. From where she would be working Cheyenne was afforded a perfect view of Josiah as he laboured over the logs. Cheyenne told herself she had chosen this particular spot because of it's full exposure to the glorious mid-afternoon sun. Yet, a little voice deep in the recesses or her mind callenged this reasoning. "Rediculous." She murmered to herself. I always choose a spot in the sun, she thought to herself, it keeps the wash water from getting cold so quickly. She argued with the little voice saying to herself, "I cannot help it if Josiah chose that spot to work." The nagging voice shot back that was the place where the wood was always chopped, and she knew that. Cheyenne told the voice to shut up and began the washing. She placed the washboard in the hot water and grabbed the first article of clothing to be cleaned. Cheyenne had only started to run the lye bar over the chosen shirt when her eyes involentarily wandered back to where Josiah stood. What she saw nearly made her drop the bar of soap.

Josiah, his clothing soaked from sweat, began to remove his shirt to cool himself. After unfastening the last button, he let the shirt slip off his broad shoulders, catching it just before it hit the ground. Josiah ran the shirt over his neck, removing some of the perspiration.Then, placing the article of clothing on top of a nearby wood pile, he returned to his task.

Cheyenne's jaw hung slack. Her eyes unable to detach themselves from the vision of masculinity that was displayed before her.Once again, Josiah started the process of splitting a log. Though, this time, the ritual mesmerized Cheyenne. As Josiah aligned his axe to the wood Cheyenne marveled at his well sculpted torso. A thin layer of perspiration caused his skin to glisten, emphasizing his muscle tone. Her eyes traced the bulge of his bicepts as he centered the axe. Cheyenne drank in the sight of him, anxiously awaiting his next move. Josiah raised the axe above his head with the same fluidity, but this time the action seemed to happen in slow motion for Cheyenne. Every flexed muscle seemed to call out to her and she found herself leaning forward as if to narrow the gap between the two. When Josiah finally brought the axe crashing down Cheyenne let out an involuntary moan. The force behind the blow caused Cheyenne's mind to wonder what it would feel like to be held in those powerful arms, to feel Josiah's warm flesh pressed against her's. As these delicious thoughts played in her mind Cheyenne continued to slowly lean foreward. The result was a loss of balance. Cheyenne's right hand slipped from the top of the washboard, grating itself down the harsh surface. The intense pain caused a scream to escape from her throat. Cheyenne's eyes darted to her hand, searing pain shooting through her hand. The once clear water was now stained a deep crimson. The wounded hand was still submerged in the wash water, as Cheyenne was almost afraid to see the damage that was done. She was just getting up the courage to have a peek when she heard thundering foot steps coming towards her.

Josiah had been about to chop another log in two when he heard a scream echo from his left. Spinning to the direction of it's origin, Josiah saw Cheyenne hunched over a wash basin. Her face was racked with pain, causing a wave of concern to wash over him. He threw down his axe and ran towards her. When he was just a few feet away Josiah's eye was caught by the unnatural color of the wash water. "My God Anni!" Josiah said, as he knelt down beside her. "What happened?" Cheyenne removed her hand from the stained water as she replied, "I cut myself." Once the hand was visible it was apparent she had done much more damage than just cut it. Cheyenne's hand was shredded, starting from her fingers and carrying well past her wrist. Loose pieces of flesh hung from the wounds and the blood showed no sign of slowing it's flow. Josiah's eyes widened in disbelief. He quickly pulled a handkerchif from his pants pocket, and took her mangled hand gently in his. "Oh Anni, how did you manage to hurt yourself so badly? What where you doing?" As he asked these questions he began to wrap the rag around her arm, as a make shift tourniqette.

Cheyenne fought back tears of both pain and embarrasment. She could not tell Josiah the truth about how the incident happened. What would he think of her? Quickly her mind searched for an alternate explination. "Um....I was just reaching for....another shirt from the basket. I guess I leaned too far.....and my hand slipped." The lie tasted sour in her mouth, but what choice did she have? The truth, she told herself, would have been worse. "Well, my dear, you sure did a number on this hand." Josiah tied off the rag in an attempt to slow the blood flow. Cheyenne let out gasp of pain. "Sorry Anni, but it's nessesary. Come with me, I'm gonna take you to the house and see if I can't clean these wounds up." With his right hand he held Cheyenne wounded arm up, trying to keep the blood from seeping out. He wrapped his left arm around her small waist and lifted her to her feet, then led her to the cabin.

Once there, Josiah carefully lowered Cheyenne into the closest chair and said, "Now keep that arm up. It'll slow the blood flow. Stay still, and I will fetch some bandages. Where do you keep them?" Cheyenne nodded her head in the direction of one of the shelves by the fireplace. "On the top shelf, left side." The throbbing in her arm began to increase. She stole another glance at her hand, shaking her head at the sight. You idiot, she thought to herself, how could you have been so clumsy? She could just hear her father's words now. He would not be as easy to convince with her fabricated explination. Cheyenne had been washing clothes with that same washboard since she was a small child, and had yet to incur so much as a sctatch. Josiah returned with bandages in hand and pulled up a chair close to Cheyenne. He carefully pulled Cheyenne's arm close to him and gave it closer inspection. "It seems to be clean enough, what with being in the soapy water. How bad does it hurt?" For the first time since he had come to her aid, Cheyenne met his gaze. There was genuine concern in his eyes, which touched her heart. "It hurts, but I'll be O.K." She gave him a weak smile, then continued, "I think it looks worse than it really is." Josiah returned her smile. "I hope so Annie.......cause it looks pretty bad. I never knew washing clothes could be so hazardous. I have new found respect for it." He joked, hoping to take her mind off the pain as he began to wrap the hand. Cheyenne let out a chuckle at Josiah's teasing remark. "Perhaps I should start wearing gloves when I do it......for protection." She quipped, hoping it would make Josiah laugh. She loved his laugh. Cheyenne was rewarded with a hearty gawfaw. "Perhaps you should! Now hold still dear, while I finish this badage job." Cheyenne obeyed, letting her eyes fall on the man before her. She immediatly noticed that, in his rush to get to her, Josiah had not put his shirt back on. From such a close proximity she could see the smoothness of his skin. How inviting it looked to her. She longed to reach out and run her good hand along it's surface. Oh, how she ached to reveal these new found emotions to him. In her fantasies, Cheyenne invisioned herself telling Josiah how she ached to be his woman, and he would, in turn, tell her how much he desired her as well. "There you go. All done but the healing." Josiah said returned his eyes to Cheynne's. There was something in them he had not seen before. A certain sparkle and longing that seemed to hold his eyes locked to her's. For a moment they sat just like that. Eyes locked, Cheyenne's delicate hand held in Josiah's strong one. There was an undenialbe change in the air, both wondering if the other was aware of it. Cheyenne senced that, possibly for the first time, Josiah was really seeing her....seeing her as not just a child but as the woman she had become. Not wanting the moment to pass, Cheyenne gathered her courage. How, she asked herself, was Josiah to know of her change of heart if she did not tell him? Moistening her lips, she placed her left hand on Josiah's arm and whispered, "Josiah........" His name had no sooner left her lips when the door swung open and her father walked in.