A Journey of the Heart Collection

by Colleen Coble

  Isaac nodded. “There’s been a bloody massacre at Fort Phil Kearny. We need ammo and men, or we’ll lose the fort itself and every man, woman, and child in it.” He sat back down on the edge of the cot. “Where’s my horse?”

  “Not so fast. You can’t light out again without some vittles. All you’ve eaten is a little broth I was able to get down you. You’d never make it past the corral.” He pointed to the table. “Sit down and fill your belly. The wind is still screaming like a banshee. The soup will warm you.”

  Isaac eyed the steaming bowl. He was ravenous. He started toward the table and staggered. What was wrong with him? He sank into the chair.

  The man cackled and pushed the bowl of stew toward Isaac. “My name’s Pete Sweeney but folks call me Hardtack. I reckon ‘cause they think I’m as tough as old shoe leather.”

  Isaac picked up a bent and tarnished spoon and dug into the stew. The smell made his mouth water. “Lieutenant Liddle,” he mumbled between bites. “How far are we from Fort Laramie?”

  “’Bout a day’s ride on a fresh horse. Which your horse ain’t. He was as near dead as you. Just now startin’ to perk up some.”

  “You got a fresh horse?” Isaac wiped up the last of the stew with a crust of bread and stood.

  “Naw. I got an old mule named Bertha, and she ain’t good for much but carrying a light load downhill. She’d never make it to Laramie.”

  “What day is it?” Isaac asked again.

  Hardtack scratched his grizzled head. “I don’t rightly know. The days all run together out here.” He stood and walked to a faded, dirty calendar nailed to the wall by the door. “Let’s see, this is the day I went for supplies, and it took me seven days coming back. I found you here and that were six days ago.”

  “Six days! I’ve been here six days?”

  The old man continued as though Isaac had not interrupted. “January second. Near as I can figure.”

  “I’ve got to get to Laramie.” Isaac jumped to his feet and looked around. “Where’re my boots?”

  Hardtack pointed a gnarled finger. “Under the bed.”

  Isaac grabbed his boots and feverishly began to pull them on. “I even missed Christmas.” He’d had such special plans for Emmie. His mother’s engagement ring was hidden back in his room, waiting for the right moment to give it to her. “I have to get reinforcements.” He began to search for his greatcoat and buffalo robe.

  Hardtack sighed and pointed to the other side of the bed. “If you’re bent on killing yourself and your horse, I reckon I can’t stop you.”

  Isaac thanked the old man again, then hurried outside. He staggered weakly through the drifts of snow to the shed surrounded by a rickety corral. He found Buck bedded down in a heap of straw with an old blanket thrown over him.

  “Sorry, boy. We’ve got to get on the road again.”

  He slipped the bit into Buck’s mouth and hurriedly saddled him. He led him out the door into the wind-driven snow. After swinging up into the saddle, he tucked his buffalo robe securely around him, checked his compass, and dug his heels into Buck’s flank.

  He was close enough to Fort Laramie to travel in the daylight. This close to the fort most of the Indians were friendly Brulé Sioux. It was still slow going in the drifting snow, but Isaac felt a new strength coursing through him, a new optimism. He was going to make it.

  After riding nearly three hours, he began to recognize the terrain. He was almost to Fort Laramie. Maybe they would have news of Fort Phil Kearny. A sentry stopped him as he rode up, then opened the gate. Isaac made his way to the commanding officer’s headquarters and knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” the commander called.

  He stepped inside and saluted the major seated behind a scarred makeshift desk. “Sir, I come with a dispatch from Colonel Carrington at Fort Phil Kearny. There’s been a terrible battle and we desperately need reinforcements and ammunition.”

  The major waved his hand. “Where have you been, Lieutenant? We got word of the massacre days ago. Troops should just about be there by now.”

  Isaac sagged in relief. The fort was saved. “I had some bad luck, Major. I’m just thankful Phillips made it through.”

  The major nodded. “You don’t look well, Lieutenant. You’d better head to mess and get some chow.”

  Isaac opened his mouth to object and say he was going back to Fort Phil Kearny, when the major interrupted him.

  “That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

  Isaac sighed. It seemed he didn’t have a choice. He saluted, then left headquarters and made his way across the tiny parade ground to the mess hall. After a bowl of stew and a stringy piece of meat, he mounted up and pointed Buck’s head back to Fort Phil Kearny.

  Reveille sounded outside in the parade ground. Two weeks. Emmie put water on to boil for soup and tried to hold on to hope that Isaac had survived the trip, but he’d never made it back to the fort.

  He can’t be dead. I won’t believe it.

  Sunshine blazed through the windows and shone on the wooden table as she opened some canned vegetables for the soup. She pulled out a chair and sat down with her back to the door. She could hear Sarah singing to Amelia’s baby in the bedroom.

  The door creaked behind her, and a cold wind rushed in. “Emmie.”

  She froze, almost afraid to turn at the deep timbres of Isaac’s voice. Maybe she was dreaming. She turned at his touch and looked up into his dear face. His mustache had grown into a beard during the time he’d been gone, and he looked gaunt. But his blue eyes sparkled with joy, and his lips turned up in a tender smile.

  “I-Isaac?” She reached up to touch his face, and the rough scratch of his beard assured her that she was awake. “They said you’d died in the blizzard.”

  “I’m too tough even for a blizzard. If you’re marrying anyone, it had better be me.”

  She finally looked over his shoulder and saw Rand and Jacob standing in the doorway. Both were grinning. She clutched his hand and stared into his face. “Isaac?” Blinking, she let her gaze travel over the planes and contours of his face, rough and reddened by exposure. She rose from the table and threw herself into his arms. “Isaac!”

  The feel of his arms around her and the sensation of the coarse wool under her cheek grounded her in the moment. He was really here.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah stood in the doorway with the baby in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw Isaac. “Oh, Isaac, you’re alive!”

  Rand stepped past him and Jacob shut the back door. Emmie pulled her face out of Isaac’s wool coat. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now.” His voice was husky as he hugged her. “Sorry I didn’t make it back sooner. I know you were worried.”

  She glanced at Jacob to see how he was taking the upheaval of his plans, but he was staring at Morning Song who looked back at him with her heart in her eyes. Emmie blinked and realized that Morning Song cared about Jacob. No one could ever replace Amelia, but maybe Jacob could heal in time.

  Emmie looked back at Isaac and laid her head against his chest again. His pulse thumped strongly under her ear, and she wound her arms around his waist. “Are you all right, truly?”

  He rested his head atop her head. “Not even any frostbite.”

  “Where have you been all this time? How did you survive the blizzard on your own?”

  “I wasn’t alone. God was with me even in the storm. This old geezer stumbled across me when I couldn’t go any farther, but we both know who directed his steps.” He pulled away a moment and cupped her face in his cold hands. “I couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

  She closed her ey
es as his lips came down on hers. The cold encasing her heart melted into warmth that spread through her midsection. Isaac’s love had made her whole. Their future together stretched in front of them as brightly as the sun sparkling on the snow.

  EPILOGUE

  Emmie looked around the nearly bare rooms where she’d spent the last two years. Was she leaving anything behind? This would be the last time she would ever see these rooms again. Sap no longer oozed from the rough logs, and the tiny rooms looked barren without their gay calico curtains and tablecloths. Dust motes danced in the hot summer sunshine that filled the parlor.

  The treaty of 1868 had agreed to abandon Forts Reno, C.F. Smith, and Phil Kearny to the Indians. No one would ever inhabit these walls again. Isaac said the Indians would burn the fort as soon as the soldiers were out of sight. Jessica had already left to go to Fort Laramie with her mother, and the rest of them would leave for various locations too.

  She looked down at a tug on her skirt. Tiny Amelia, just over two, lifted her arms up to be held. Smiling, Emmie knelt and took the child in her arms. She buried her face in her daughter’s sweet-smelling hair. God had blessed her so much. Amelia’s birth had been easy, and the joy the little girl brought to both Isaac and her was simply amazing. Who would have thought Emmie would have so much just three years after she had heard the shriek of the overturning carriage that day in Wabash?

  Life was good. Even Jake seemed to have finally put the past behind him. He looked at Morning Song with love in his eyes now. They were expecting an addition to their little family in October. Sarah had given Rand another son last year and was also expecting a new baby around Christmas. She and Rand had said they wanted a large family, and they were well on their way to having their dreams fulfilled. Emmie had even had an opportunity to tell her brother, Labe, about how God had changed her life when he’d stopped by three months ago on his way back to the gold fields of Bozeman.

  He had brought news about Ben’s death in a shooting during a poker game with other miners. Emmie had been sad but not surprised. Ben had too much pride to ever bend his knee to God.

  Emmie whirled now as the front door banged shut and her husband strode in. Isaac smiled as he caught sight of her with Amelia in her arms.

  “It won’t be long before you won’t be able to pick her up.” He glanced at the gentle bulge where their new baby grew. Amelia held out her arms to him, and he took her and tossed her into the air.

  She giggled. “Again, Daddy!”

  Emmie watched as Isaac played with Amelia. He was never too busy to take a moment to bring a smile to the little girl’s face. He had certainly kept his promise to be a good father. And husband. She loved him with a fierce, almost painful love.

  His deep voice interrupted her introspection. “Are you ready to leave?”

  Emmie linked her arm through his and gazed up into his blue eyes. “I’m ready.” He opened the door and they walked across the parade ground for the last time.

  “Bye, bye, house.” Little Amelia waved her chubby hands.

  Emmie echoed the sentiment in her heart as Isaac helped her up into their wagon and then handed Amelia to her. A new home awaited them near Sheridan . . . Home. Isaac was everything the word meant to her. And no matter where they were, as long as he was with her, she was home.

  ALSO BY COLLEEN COBLE

  SUNSET COVE NOVELS

  The Inn at Ocean’s Edge

  Mermaid Moon

  Twilight at Blueberry Barrens

  (Available September 2016)

  HOPE BEACH NOVELS

  Tidewater Inn

  Rosemary Cottage

  Seagrass Pier

  UNDER TEXAS STARS NOVELS

  Blue Moon Promise

  Safe in His Arms

  THE MERCY FALLS SERIES

  The Lightkeeper’s Daughter

  The Lightkeeper’s Bride

  The Lightkeeper’s Ball

  LONESTAR NOVELS

  Lonestar Sanctuary

  Lonestar Secrets

  Lonestar Homecoming

  Lonestar Angel

  All is Calm: A Lonestar

  Christmas Novella (e-book only)

  THE ROCK HARBOR SERIES

  Without a Trace

  Beyond a Doubt

  Into the Deep

  Cry in the Night

  Silent Night: A Rock Harbor

  Christmas Novella (e-book only)

  THE ALOHA REEF SERIES

  Distant Echoes

  Black Sands

  Dangerous Depths

  Midnight Sea

  Holy Night: An Aloha Reef

  Christmas Novella (e-book only)

  Alaska Twilight

  Fire Dancer

  Abomination

  Anathema

  Butterfly Palace

  NOVELLAS INCLUDED IN:

  Smitten

  Secretly Smitten

  Smitten Book Club

  OTHER NOVELLAS

  Bluebonnet Bride

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RITA finalist Colleen Coble is the author of several bestselling romantic suspense novels, including Tidewater Inn, and the Mercy Falls, Lonestar, and Rock Harbor series.

  AN EXCERPT FROM

  MERMAID MOON

  ONE

  The Silver Pelican jewelry store in Bangor, Maine, was Mallory Davis’s final stop, and she put on a bright smile. The place smelled of money—expensive perfume from the last customer and the rich scent of new carpet. Every other jewelry shop in town had only been willing to take her pieces on consignment, but she needed the cash now. She’d been a bit hesitant to come here because this was the most expensive store in town, and she was sure the owner would take one look at her suit, stylish ten years ago, and send her packing.

  The sun glittered on her twenty pieces of sea-glass jewelry spread across the top of the glass display case. The presentation under it sparkled with diamonds and sapphires on black velvet.

  Mallory nudged her favorite bracelet with one finger. “This one is white gold instead of the usual sterling silver. I mixed pink tourmaline with darker pink sea glass to create the piece.”

  The owner, in his forties with a paunch and bald head, picked up the bracelet and looked it over. “Very nice craftsmanship, Mrs. Davis. The quality is exceptional. The pink and green moon from the tourmaline is quite unique. And I really like the mermaid on it. How much do you want for these?”

  She tipped up her chin and forced a confidence that was at odds with the fluttery sensation in her stomach. “I need five hundred dollars for it. I have five of them ready here in my briefcase. And did you see these earrings?” She pointed out another offering. “The tourmaline makes them so distinctively Maine. These are two hundred dollars.”

  He nodded. “My customers are always asking for quality tourmaline pieces, and I find it hard to keep up with the demand when they want jewelry created in Maine.” He pursed his flat lips. “I’ll take everything you have here, plus all the mermaid-moon bracelets. Write me up an invoice and I’ll give you a check right now. I think I can take most everything you make off your hands.”

  Hiding her elation, she took a surreptitious glance at her watch. Haylie would be out of school in half an hour. “Of course.” She pulled the jewelry pieces out of her case along with an invoice pad.

  She wanted to do a fist pump in the air. Her mortgage was a week late, but she could pay it electronically as soon as the check cleared.

  The back of her neck prickled, and she
resisted the urge to turn around. For the past week she’d had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her, but try as she might to convince herself it was from the stress of her finances, she couldn’t help swinging her head around to look. And saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  She was letting her imagination run wild again.

  But her joy bubbled to the surface when she remembered she’d done it. This was the beginning of good things for them.

  Fifteen minutes later she thanked the proprietor and exited into the dreary gloom of an early-spring day. Tugging her jacket higher at the neck, her smile widened as she hurried to her blue Toyota. She pulled out her phone and dialed her best friend, Carol Decker.

  Carol had been Mallory’s rock when Brian died in a small plane accident two years ago. She lived in the house next door and ran Haylie around when Mallory had errands to run or needed to work on her jewelry designs. At fifty-five, she was twenty years older than Mallory and had never been married, but she was warm and cuddly as a new kitten.

  Carol answered on the first ring. “How’d it go?”

  “He bought everything I’ve got!” She turned the key and started the engine. “I need to pick up Haylie. It took him forever to write out the check.” Before she pulled into traffic, she stared at the check for $3,500. “We can eat this month. And I can get the mortgage caught up.”

  Carol laughed. “I’d say you just shot the wolf at the door full of buckshot, then had him stuffed and mounted.”

  “Good riddance. I never want to see that mangy monster again.” Mallory stopped at the light and noticed the engine running a little rough. “I need to get this clunker looked at. It’s going to die on me before too long.”

  “I think it needs the spark plugs changed.”

  And she had the money to do just that. Mallory saw the time. “Holy cow, is it really two thirty? I’m going to be late.”

  She gunned the Toyota as soon as the light changed and drove as fast as she dared. The school was a good fifteen minutes away if traffic was moving.