If Laura didn’t feel weak as a newborn pup, she would have grinned at the pleasure marked all over Joanna’s face. Especially when she said the words my husband.
All she could manage as she sank into the pillow was a smile. “I’m happy for you, Joanna. So happy.”
Joanna nodded her thanks, but then her expression changed as she studied Laura with the kind of intense scrutiny that cataloged every symptom. “I brought water and broth. How are you feeling? Ingrid said you haven’t kept anything down in days.”
“Better, I think. I’ve slept a lot today. And I haven’t cast up the water she brought earlier.”
The concern lines on Joanna’s brow softened. “Thank you, Lord.” She placed the tray on the bedside table. “Can you drink this, or would you like me to spoon it for you?”
Laura tried for another smile. “I can do it. You shouldn’t be in here. Doc Micah said this seems to be catching, and you can’t afford to take sick when your husband and son need you.”
Joanna gave her a half-smile that said she knew well Laura was using unfair leverage to send her away. “You need to rest, so I won’t stay in here to keep you awake, but I will be nearby. I’ll be back to check on you soon.” She brushed a hand across Laura’s brow. A gentle touch that soothed like the few memories she had of her own mother’s touch.
Her eyes drifted shut against her will. Her body was still so weak.
“Rest now, my friend.”
As sleep claimed her, the last thing she heard was the soft pad of Joanna’s steps leaving the room.
Laura awoke as sound drifted from the hallway. The front door closing, then boots thumping. Her heart leapt as it had every time she heard that sound these past days. But just like all the other times, this was likely only Doc Micah coming back from visiting patients.
But could it be Nate? A glance at the curtained window showed no light peeking through the cracks between the cloth. This should be around the time Nate came by after work.
And also the time the doctor should be returning.
Boot thuds walked past Aaron’s door, but then slowed as they neared Laura’s. Voices sounded in the hallway. Ingrid speaking to a man.
Her heart surged. That was Nate’s voice, she was almost certain.
Her attraction to him had grown so much stronger than she’d ever expected.
Yet how could she not come to care so much for him when she saw daily examples of his goodness? His kindness. His devotion to those honored enough to be called his friends. The strength of character that must have lain deep inside, suppressed by so many years of being an outlaw.
She could understand now how loyalty to Aaron had kept him in the gang. From the outside, it didn’t make sense, but when she thought back to her younger years with Will and Robbie, she could imagine herself making the same choice.
She’d raised Robbie, in almost every sense of the word. And Will . . . he had been her lifeline. Her sanity in the everday storms. Many, many times she’d taken blows or angry words their father meant for him. Anytime she could, she took the beating meant for her brothers.
There was nothing she wouldn’t have done to protect them.
Nothing.
So, yes, she could understand what had driven Nate to stick with his brother, even when that required him to do what he knew was wrong. But even that had its limitations, when he’d finally taken a stand when the others kidnapped her and Samuel.
A soft knock sounded on her door, and Ingrid poked her head in. “Are you up for a visitor?” Her face held a grin that seemed half teasing.
A smile tugged at her own mouth. “Of course.” That had to be Nate. She brushed the hair from her face. If only he didn’t have to see her so bedraggled.
Ingrid stepped back, and another figure filled the doorway.
Nate. Her heart stuttered as joy pushed back her exhaustion.
Weariness lined his smile, and several days’ worth of stubble coated his jaw, but still he looked deliciously good. If only she could call him closer. Close enough to touch him. To soak in his strength, the comfort his nearness always wove through her.
She probably shouldn’t have let him become so important to her. A man hadn’t been part of her plans, not yet. She’d intended to set herself well on the path to the life she craved—a life doing things that truly mattered. Then she could see how a man might fit into that work.
“You look like you’re feeling better.” Nate’s dancing green eyes glanced over her.
She nodded. “I think I’m on the mend.” Lord, please let me be. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so near death as she had these past few days. Not even that time when she’d tried to use her father’s drink to mourn Robbie’s tragic choice.
“I’m glad.” The weight of his two words—their depth—settled in the air between the two of them. “Is there anything I can do?” He hesitated. “Anything you need?” His brows still rested low, his forehead furrowed with worry.
Hopefully she wasn’t the cause of his concern. He had enough burdens of his own without her adding to them. “Nothing.” Her throat still rasped, and his brows pulled lower.
She needed a distraction. Swallowing to moisten her throat, she worked for a smile. “Tell me of your day. How are Bright Sun and Eagle Soaring?” Now that she was speaking more, her voice didn’t sound as awful, although her throat still ached.
Nate’s brow wrinkled even more. Definitely a scowl now, and not the effect she’d been hoping for. “They’re well. Eagle Soaring seems a bit better every day. Bright Sun seems more relaxed around me, which I’m happy about.”
“Of course she is.” She offered an encouraging smile. “She’s good at reading people.”
He looked away, staring out the window. Not that he could see anything through the curtains and the darkness outside. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
Maybe seeing her brought him pain. Or maybe he was regretting his choice to move into the cave with the two Indians. She’d been surprised when he suggested it, but the more she thought through the benefits, the more relieved she’d been. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself?
Her weary mind ached from mulling through so many thoughts. “What is it, Nate? What’s wrong?”
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze still locked on the window. “Someone brought more boxes to the cave today. While I was away at the mine.”
Her stomach twisted, but not the knifing pain that signaled another round of retching. This twisting stemmed from Nate’s words. Or maybe from his tone and the fact that he still didn’t look at her.
But . . . why did they automatically think the men storing crates in the cave were doing something nefarious? Perhaps these were simply businessmen who’d run out of storage space.
“What was in the crates this time?”
He finally turned back to her. “Big powder. The kind we use for explosives in the mine.”
All the strength fled her body with his words, muddling her mind. Only the mines would need big powder, right? And was it dangerous when stored in crates? Were Bright Sun and her grandfather in peril? Surely Nate wouldn’t have left them alone if that were the case. Thinking took too much energy. And speaking . . . her mouth wouldn’t move to form words, even when she told it to.
“Laura?” Nate’s voice called through her fog, through the darkness. When had she closed her eyes? “Laura, what’s wrong?”
The fear in his voice infused enough strength for her to force her eyes open. “I’m just tired.” So very tired.
“I’ll leave so you can rest. Please rest. Whatever you need to do to fight this sickness. I won’t stop praying for you.”
As she let herself sink into his words and his voice, her body relaxed. As though the blood had momentarily ceased flowing through her veins but now restarted, spreading life-sustaining strength everywhere she needed it.
And with that strength, the tug of sleep pulled too strong for her to resist. The last thing she remembered was the steady thump of Nate’s boots on the hallway flo
or.
Nate jerked awake as a bolt of pain shot through his shoulder. He grabbed for the hand shaking him as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.
His gaze finally made out Bright Sun in the dim firelight, and everything flooded back. But why did she wake him? Maybe morning had come and he’d overslept. He blinked but couldn’t see any daylight coming from the opening into the front cavern.
He sat up and focused on the girl, who still hovered beside him. “What is it?”
“Men.” Her voice couldn’t be called a whisper, but the sound barely reached across the short distance between them.
Every one of Nate’s nerves leapt to alert. “Where?” He stopped breathing so he wouldn’t miss the girl’s response.
“Taking the boxes.”
He pushed up to his feet. “Light a lantern for me.” He had to catch them. Something wasn’t right about the mysterious crates, especially this last group full of explosive powder. And why else would they make all their visits in the dead of night?
He’d planned to ask one of the supervisors at the mine if they knew of missing powder. Or maybe they were storing the crates here intentionally.
But if these men stole the boxes away in the middle of the night, he might be accused of scheming with them.
He had to know better what was happening. Then he’d decide if he needed to talk with someone at the mine.
After slipping on his coat, he reached for the rifle he always kept beside him when he slept. This chamber that held the hot springs stayed toasty warm, but the other cavern with the outside entrance was just the opposite, especially since that evening it had felt like snow would begin falling any minute.
When he turned back to the girl, she stood staring at him, the unlit lantern still on the floor where he’d placed it before going to sleep. “They’ll see the light.”
She was right. . . . He must be still daft from sleep.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
Bright Sun led the way toward the front cavern with all the hanging rock formations. During the day, sunrays shining through the cave’s main entrance gave enough light to maneuver that front chamber without a lantern, as long as his eyes had fully adjusted to the interior. But he wasn’t so sure he could move quietly among the dangling rock icicles with only moonlight filtering through.
He moved in front of Bright Sun to peer into that room first. At the entrance, they both paused, and he strained to hear or see any sign of the men.
All seemed quiet. No shadows moved near the cave opening.
Maybe Bright Sun had been mistaken. And why would she have been awake and wandering the caves to see strangers in the first place? He’d have to question her later.
Bright Sun stepped around him, and before he realized what she was doing, she’d started forward and was weaving her way through the obstacles in the cavern.
He reached to grab her, but she was too far ahead. He couldn’t call to her, for his voice would echo off the stone walls.
He charged forward, doing his best to focus on all the rock formations that seemed to rise up from nowhere, or drop in front of him with little warning. Yet he also had to keep an eye on the girl a half dozen strides in front of him, as well as the cave entrance where potentially dangerous men might be lurking.
His pulse thudded hard in his neck when he finally caught up with Bright Sun in the open area near the cave entrance. He dropped his hand on her shoulder and struggled to keep both his breathing and his voice quiet as he leaned close to speak. “Don’t run ahead again. Please. I need to deal with these men.”
He didn’t have time to watch for her response, for he’d already taken in the empty wall where crates had stood when he’d come in for the night, only a few hours before. The gaping space showed no sign anything had ever been there.
Moving toward the opening, he kept his stride light. At the rock wall, he ducked low to peer outside. The thickness of the stone archway was about twice the length of his foot, and he crouched low and leaned out enough to look both ways.
The path stretched empty around the edge of the mountain, as far as he could see in the darkness. No sounds drifted to him, save the regular gusts of wind.
Should he go right or left? To the right, the mountain goat trail continued around one more turn, then ended in a small patch of evergreen shrubs. The men could be hiding in them if they’d heard Nate in the cave. But he suspected they’d not heard him. More likely, the men had finished retrieving their treasure and were even now loading the crates in a wagon or driving away.
He turned left, winding his way around the side of the mountain. He stepped over the familiar rise in the rocks, balancing carefully through the dip where the stone had broken loose and he’d ended up with a dislocated shoulder joint.
Just before he reached the place where he should be able to see a wagon parked on the dirt and rock hillside, he slowed. Then he crept forward.
But the hillside sat empty.
He strained to pick up any sound and held his breath as a distant jingling carried through the night air.
A wagon. It had to be.
Twenty-Two
Gripping his rifle tighter, Nate charged forward, moving as quietly as he could. Yet he could no longer sacrifice speed. If he didn’t catch up with the wagon, he’d lose them completely. Then he’d lose any chance of finding out what these men were up to.
Maybe he should leave well enough alone. His past certainly didn’t give him the right to point fingers at others. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The urge to know—to do something about it, maybe even to right a wrong—drove him forward.
He must have run half a mile by the time the wagon appeared ahead. The rig had turned onto the wagon ruts that led toward the main road. It’d be another quarter mile before he knew whether they’d turn left toward Settler’s Fort or right toward a handful of other mountain settlements, with Fort Benton lying a few weeks’ travel beyond.
After ducking to the side so he could run under cover of trees lining the path, he kept a steady pace behind the vehicle. He couldn’t see much from this distance, not how many men sat on the bench or what the horses pulling the conveyance looked like. He could only make out that the back was covered by a tarpaulin or blanket of some kind.
Before long, the animals swung right. Away from Settler’s Fort.
Were these freighters who’d been hired to take the powder to a mine near one of the other towns? The scenario seemed unlikely, for the powder was in high demand—and hard to transport from the States. First it had to travel by steamboat to Fort Benton, then by freight wagon over weeks of bumpy roads, winding up and down steep mountains. No one would bring blasting powder all the way to Settler’s Fort, then turn around and transport the dangerous material back over the same roads.
It made no sense.
He increased his speed, weaving deeper into the woods so the men wouldn’t see him. He had to rely on the jingling harness and squeaking wagon to cover the rustling of the leaves under his boots.
As he closed the distance between them, two figures took shape on the bench seat. One man bent low, gripping the reins of a four-horse team. Or maybe those were mules, he couldn’t tell for sure.
The other fellow sat high on the box, craning his neck from one side of the trail to the other. If Nate had to guess, he’d be fairly certain the man sat with a rifle on his lap, finger hovering over the trigger.
They expected trouble.
If he moved around in front and stopped them at gunpoint, he’d be up against two rifles. He had plenty of experience waylaying wagons on remote roads, but he wasn’t part of the gang anymore.
His actions had to be above the law.
Besides, he had no proof these men were up to anything unlawful. Only his instincts told him they were trouble.
But . . . they were riding away from Settler’s Fort, away from everyone under his protection, so he didn’t need to intervene in their escape. He should talk
to the mine supervisor tomorrow and let him know everything he saw. Lanton too.
With a sigh, Nate slowed and watched the wagon roll forward, fading into the night.
Laura glared at Aaron’s chamber door. She hated to go in there, but she had to face the man. Lord willing, Aaron’s craving for laudanum had worn off while she lay near death. Now he would be sullen and depressed like before, but she could handle that version of him. Their past was behind them, and she planned to do everything she could now to help him move forward into a better life.
Forcing a smile on her face, she knocked on the door. “Aaron, it’s Laura.” She probably should be stricter about enforcing the use of her surname around these brothers. But she couldn’t stand the thought of placing that barrier between her and Nate. She craved his nearness, not distance.
And Aaron . . . With all that lay between them—the kidnapping, the life-changing shot gone awry, and now this agonizing attempt to help him walk again—he felt too much like one of her brothers.
A brother who frustrated her. One she longed to help and encourage and nurture . . . until he sent her one of his peevish looks and she felt like dumping his meal tray in his lap.
He mumbled something unintelligible through the wooden barrier. She’d take that as a welcome. If he didn’t want her to enter, he’d say so loudly and clearly enough for the entire house to hear.
Pushing open the door, she poked her head inside and sent him a smile. “Feeling well this morning?”
He glared, his lower lip poking out, just like Robbie would have done when he was five. She had to fight the urge to step closer and tweak his nose like she’d have done to her little brother. She did let her grin widen a little.
“Let’s do some leg lifts and toe stretches before I head out.” She stepped into the room. The stale, musky odor made her queasy, so she left the door open. Doc Micah had been surprised how quickly she recovered, but even though most of her strength had returned, she still couldn’t manage to eat much. And every odor caused this same reaction in her middle.
“Thought you said the service was canceled today,” Aaron grumbled as he sat up and lowered his injured leg to the floor.
Faith's Mountain Home Page 17
