Faith in the Mountain Valley

by Misty M. Beller

  The plan worked well, and when they were well past the camp and moved back into the creek, the crescent moon allowed enough light for her to rein her horse around the larger rocks she might've stumbled over.

  The only downfall was how slowly they had to move. With so many stones in the water, her horse had to keep to a walk, and the hours dragged by. Was she making enough progress that the others wouldn't find her?

  She’d been riding beside a range of mountains on her right—the same range that included the cliff that had marked one side of their camp.

  Riding up into the mountains over rocky terrain would be best, for the stone would help them leave no tracks, but the grassy stretch between the creek and the mountains had kept her from crossing over.

  Finally, up ahead, the mountains stretched down to touch the water's edge, making the bank rise much higher along that section, almost like a cliff wall. Maybe they could leave the water at last, if she could find a place her horse could maneuver up.

  After riding with the cliff on her right for several minutes, a steep stone path rose to climb diagonally up the mountainside. The faint trail looked to be an animal trace, maybe traveled by mountain goats or sheep.

  Her horse could probably manage it. Maybe the mare would do better if Colette dismounted though. The extra weight might make balancing up the steep path precarious.

  She slipped off her horse onto the stones, stepping from one to the next so she wouldn’t get her feet wet. Of course, her moccasins were still damp from the first few steps through the water before. But she could feel her toes, and it wasn't cold enough to worry about her appendages freezing.

  The mare balked about climbing the steep path at first, but Colette encouraged her onward. Once they were both climbing, she focused on the trail and staying far enough ahead of the horse that she wouldn’t be trampled.

  This really was an excellent animal. Colette had traded for her at a fort south of Pike, when she realized she wouldn't be able to cover enough ground on foot to escape Raphael's brothers. Maybe she should give the horse a name, but part of her had hesitated to do so. Naming the animal created a bond between them, and what if something happened that required her to leave the horse behind? Colette had already lost so many people she loved. Better to keep from becoming too attached to this horse.

  At last, they reached a place where the path leveled enough for them to stop and rest. She was breathing hard, yet no matter how much air she drew in, her body still cried out for more. The chill in the air had dried out her throat. She needed a drink, but her canteen was inside her pack, and she couldn’t yet manage the effort to pull it out.

  Finally, she caught her breath enough to take in her surroundings.

  It wasn’t a big mountain, and she’d climbed nearly halfway up, from what she could see in the dim moonlight. Boulders covered most of the slope, which would make finding a path challenging. The animal trail they’d been traversing climbed over a large boulder in front of her. It must surely have been made by smaller animals, creatures nimble enough to leap up and down the slick rocks. Her mare wouldn’t be able to climb up onto this taller, massive stone.

  God, what do I do? She strained to see farther in each direction. The way the boulders cast shadows, it was hard to tell if any of the crags might be maneuvered.

  Turning to her horse, she patted the mare’s neck. "Stay here, girl. I'll find a way and come back for you." The animal stood with heaving sides, still catching her breath. Hopefully, the horse wouldn't shift around when Colette stepped away. The wrong step on the mountain in the dark could send the animal plummeting down the slope.

  Colette moved to the boulder where pressed mud showed prints from tiny hooves. She'd been right about the height of the stone. It wasn't fair to ask her horse to jump up onto the rock. If she slipped, there was too much chance of a fall.

  Easing around from that rock to the next, Colette found a series of lower stones that could act as a staircase to move higher up the mountain. She couldn't tell how much farther they would be able to go that way, but she hated to move out of sight of her horse to find out.

  They might need to travel like this for a while, with Colette scouting ahead each leg of their path. The main downside to traversing this route was that the direction wove back around the mountain toward the north—the direction she'd come from. But they were moving up, so that was progress.

  After stepping back to her mount, she turned the horse in the tight quarters, then led the way up the series of stone steps.

  The mare hesitated, but with a little coaxing, she climbed upward. Once the horse was moving easily, Colette turned her focus to peering ahead through the darkness. As they ascended up and around, there was rarely more than one possible route. The farther they climbed, the rougher the terrain grew, and the more fear pressed in her chest. What would she do if they reached a point where there was no possible path? Would the horse be able to climb back down the mountain the way they’d come? In so many places, a single misstep would send the animal tumbling down the rocks.

  Perhaps she should've come alone. In these mountains, was it foolishness to try to bring a horse? Was the mare holding her back from the speed she needed to escape?

  Lord, have I made a disastrous error? It had seemed absurd to leave the horse behind when having a mount would help her run much farther and last much longer. But she'd not planned to scale stony cliffs.

  The moon no longer shone overhead to light the way. Clouds must have covered the thin crescent. Maybe this was God's punishment for her sin.

  She gave herself a mental shake. She'd asked the Lord's forgiveness for what she’d done to Raphael. God had promised that forgiveness. The Lord didn't take back His mercy. But maybe this was what came from putting others in danger. Should she have run before now?

  I will lead them in paths that they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. The words from a verse she’d long ago memorized slipped through her memory. She nearly laughed at the irony compared to her current situation. Yes, Lord. Turn this darkness to light and make this crooked trail straight.

  Then she sobered. Please, Father. Take us to safety. Give me wisdom.

  They were nearing the peak now, and the slope had eased into a more gradual incline, though the mountain still seemed made up of boulders stacked on boulders. They had to maneuver massive stones in some places.

  As she led the mare around one such rock, a large dark area appeared in the mountainside. Colette jerked the horse to a halt as she strained to see deeper into the darkness. A cave? A stone covered in black moss? The murky shadow seemed deeper than that.

  She edged closer, leading the mare a slow step at a time.

  At last, she came near enough to reach out and touch the blackness. Her hand brushed nothing. Would a cave be so inky and completely devoid of light?

  "Stay here, girl," she murmured to the mare as she released the reins and shifted sideways to touch the side of the rock light enough to see.

  She groped along the stone, reaching into the darkness—deeper, deeper. She could no longer see her hand, but her fingers crawled along solid stone. This must be a cave, but how deep did it go? Would any animals enter into such blackness?

  Perhaps it was only so dark inside because of the night. A wild animal might venture in during the daytime and sleep through the dark hours.

  Could this cave be a good hiding place for her and the horse? If only she had a torch. She had flint and steel packed in her satchel, but she hadn't planned to light a fire. The smoke might alert others of her presence.

  Perhaps she would be safe to wait here at the cave opening until morning. She couldn't quite bring herself to enter that yawning darkness at night.

  Turning back to her horse, she stroked the mare's neck. "We'll settle in here until daylight, then decide what to do next." The mare’s ear twitched at her whisper, but she kept her head lowered.

  Colette sent a final glance around and strained
to hear any movement from down the mountain. Nothing except the whistle of the wind in her ears.

  Lord, let us be safe here. And send wisdom. I need it more than anything right now. If she made the wrong decision at any point, so many people would pay the price.

  Chapter 20

  Something felt off.

  French opened his eyes in the early morning darkness and strained with all his senses for anything out of place. He couldn’t see Colette with the packs positioned between them. A rustle of bedding sounded from the other side of camp, and he jerked his gaze that way. Elk Runs sat up on his pallet and ran a hand over his face. He was usually the first to rise.

  After a moment, the brave pulled the fur off his legs and stood in a smooth motion. He didn't act as though he sensed anything wrong. Maybe French's imagination had conjured a threat that wasn't there. Or maybe the worry came from the remnants of a dream that had already slipped away.

  He sat up too, sent another glance around the quiet camp, then stood. With a stretch, he pulled out some of the stiffness that came from sleeping outside, then finally let his gaze wander to Colette's pallet. He loved to watch her sleep but usually felt a twinge of guilt at taking such a liberty. It felt like she was his in so many ways…but not in that way. Not yet.

  His gaze slipped over her bedding, seeking out her pale hair amidst the other shades of fur. He squinted to see better. She must have pulled one of the pelts over her head.

  As his eyes made out details in the faint morning light, his breathing ceased. No blond hair. No body at all. Where was Colette?

  He stepped toward her pallet, scanning the bedding once more to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks.

  Her covers were mussed as though she'd slept there, but she definitely wasn't on her bedroll now.

  He lifted his focus to the path she always took first thing in the morning. Maybe she'd awakened early and gone to take care of personal matters. She would return in a few minutes.

  Still, his heart raced far quicker than it had moments before. Could the men camped upriver have done anything to Colette? Surely he or one of the braves would've heard if strangers had entered the camp.

  She must simply be caring for morning needs. No other possibility made sense.

  He grabbed two logs and used them to stir up flames from last night’s coals. As soon as the first piece caught, he stood and listened for sounds of Colette's return. All the braves had risen now except Young Bear. The older man usually stayed under his covers until the fire was roaring. Then, he would sit by the warmth for a while before heading out to his trap line.

  French couldn't blame him. As achy as his own body was in the morning, Young Bear’s had seen almost twice as many years as his had.

  There was no sign of Colette coming through the trees, so French started down the path to meet her. He tried to keep his stride slow, more like an ambling walk and less like a worried charge. What if she’d taken sick again? What if something was wrong with the baby?

  When he came within sight of the group of shrubbery cedars he’d helped her to the other day, he stopped. "Colette?" He was pretty sure he'd spoken loudly enough for her to hear. The woods hadn't yet awakened in the dim light of morning, and he didn't want to alert the others. Not yet.

  She didn't poke her head around the branches. No sounds of shuffling.

  His chest tightened even more. "Colette? Are you there?" He spoke louder this time. Unless she’d been knocked unconscious, she would hear him.

  Don't let her be knocked unconscious. A new series of images flashed through his mind. Could she have swooned? What if she'd hit her head?

  "Colette, I'm coming to check on you." He started forward, confidently at first, then slowing as he neared. "Are you in there?"

  No sound. No movement.

  He peered around the scraggly needles—just enough so he would see a bit of clothing if she was there. Only the deep shadows of early dawn could be seen. He stepped all the way around.

  Empty.

  His heart pounded harder, and the worry pressing his chest surged to panic. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe she'd been at the river and was back at camp, even now.

  He spun and charged through the trees. As he stepped between the last of the trunks, he scanned the clearing for her blond tresses. She wasn't there.

  He stopped and scanned every place she might be tucked, seeking out each stack of furs and pile of belongings.

  "She is not here." Young Bear sat on his bedding, his hair rumpled and his face looking older than usual.

  French scanned his features for the deeper meaning of his words. "Where is she? Did she come back?"

  The Indian shook his head. "I have not seen her."

  Panic knotted in French’s throat. "Have you been down to the river? Is she there?"

  He shook his head. "I have not left this fire." Then he struggled to stand. "I will help look for her."

  As thankful as French was for the help, he couldn't wait for the old man's slow movements. He spun toward the river path. "I'll see if she's out at her trap line. Check with the others."

  There was no sign of Colette along their stretch of trapping area. He saw Elk Runs farther upriver and called out to the man, but he'd not seen her either. With every step, French’s mind churned with worry…with possibilities of what had happened to her. Those two strangers must have had something to do with her disappearance. The coincidence was too strong.

  When he arrived back at camp, Left Standing was bent over the fire, perhaps heating food to break his fast.

  French headed for his pack and gathered up his rifle, shot bag, and hunting knife. "I'm sorry I haven't cooked, but Colette's missing. I'm going to see those strangers and find out what they know."

  He glanced over at the man, but Left Standing no longer knelt by the fire. He stood beside his pack, strapping a bow and quiver on his back. "I will go with you."

  French nodded. “Good." He wasn't foolish enough to turn away help when Colette might be in danger. And Left Standing's presence might garner a bit more respect than French would alone.

  They strode down the path that would lead to the horses, then beyond to the strangers’ camp. When they stepped into the clearing where the animals grazed, he sent the horses a glance. Though he kept moving, his mind did its usual headcount.

  But as he mentally tallied, he slowed his step. Where was the sixth horse? He scanned each mount individually, identifying them to determine which was missing.

  Colette's mare.

  The fear inside him pounded even harder as this new twist shifted the possibilities in his mind. Why would she have left with her horse? Had the men kidnapped her and insisted she take her mount? If they’d knocked her unconscious, how would they have known which animal was hers. If she’d been alert enough to point out her mount, wouldn't she have screamed or done something to alert the rest of them to what was happening? Surely she hadn’t gone with them of her own accord.

  So many questions, and not an answer among them.

  He strode toward the animals, Left Standing matching his pace. A glance at the man's intense expression showed he must have realized which animal was missing.

  The fellow's gaze dropped to the ground, and French looked that way too. Tracks. He should've been looking for them already. But with the bevy of prints in this area, it was impossible to tell which might have come from Colette or her horse.

  A call from downriver jerked his attention that way. Hawk Wing strode toward them, Cross the River not far behind. Young Bear must have alerted them.

  As soon as they came near enough to hear, French called out, "Colette and her horse are missing. Have you seen her? Or anything suspicious?"

  Both men sent a glance around the area before Hawk Wing answered. “Nothing." His gaze lifted up and beyond them, and French turned that direction too.

  A thin stream of smoke rose into the air from the same place he'd seen it the day before. Did that mean the strangers were still in their camp? If they
’d taken Colette, wouldn't they have run? Maybe they'd built up the fire to throw off suspicion.

  French glanced back at his companions. Elk Runs had turned toward the creek, his gaze scanning the ground. What did he see?

  French moved toward him, examining the area the man studied. There were plenty of horse tracks here since the animals had mostly free range to the water.

  Elk Runs pointed to a spot. "Mignon walk here."

  French leaned over for a better view. Yes. There was a flattened impression that might have been Colette's marks pressing the mud smooth.

  He shifted his focus to scan the area around. "Do you see any other tracks? Maybe from the men camped upriver?” The chaos of hoofprints was too much for French to decipher anything more than what Elk Runs had pointed out.

  The man shook his head, his focus still on the ground. He stepped forward and lifted his gaze to the opposite bank. That side wasn't nearly as trodden, although the horses did cross over at times.

  Elk Runs strode through the water without flinching, as though the liquid wasn’t frigid from snow runoff. French hesitated only a second, though not from the cold. They needed to check the strangers’ camp. But what Elk Runs found here might make a difference. He stepped through the water to follow.

  After a few minutes, the man located more of Colette's tracks a little farther downstream. As soon as Elk Runs identified her trail, the brave moved forward like a hound that had picked up the scent of fresh meat. French had to trot to keep up. The man motioned toward a hoofprint. "Is riding now."

  "She mounted the horse here? Can you tell if anyone came through with her?" The grass looked as though it had been trod upon at some point in the last day, but French couldn't tell much more.

  Elk Runs took a few more steps before leaning down and motioning to a tiny divot in the ground. "Her horse steps long in the rear." Then he straightened. "Do not see others."