Then her breathing eased. Grew steadier. Maybe she’d finally succumbed to sleep, and that would help her more than anything he could offer. Not only must her body be exhausted, what with awakening often through the night to care for her father. Her spirit must be weary beyond words. This would take longer to heal, but rest would help.
Beaver lifted his head from where he’d tucked it over Susanna’s. Caleb shifted to his side. The man must have been waiting, ready to help whenever needed. Beaver nodded toward Wilkins, and Caleb stepped in and took the man, easing him away from Susanna, then laying the lifeless body on the ground nearby.
Beaver couldn’t help but follow the body with his gaze. Was it true that his spirit had gone to Heaven? Beaver had spent so many years rejecting his people’s belief of a Great Spirit, the idea of accepting this idea of an all-powerful God and a place where the spirit of a person went after death twisted his mind into a painful knot.
He couldn’t untie the strands now, not with his insides so raw. But he could care for Susanna. She would be his focus as long as she needed him.
As much as he wanted to tuck her into himself and hold her for hours, she would rest better snuggled in her bedroll. He motioned Caleb closer and spoke in a low whisper. “Her bedding.”
The man nodded. “I’ll bring all our things up.”
Good. That would give him a little more time with Susanna while Caleb hiked down to where they’d left the horses.
He pulled her onto his lap, tucking her head in the crook of his neck, and did his best to give her what comfort he could.
The next day passed in a blur for Susanna. Maybe it was more than a single day.
Each time she awoke, the weight on her chest immediately brought back the immensity of her loss. The skin on her eyes pulled tight from all the tears, and her head ached.
Beaver Tail stayed close, always there with a cup of cool water. He offered food, but her stomach roiled at even the thought. She simply couldn’t manage it right now.
She would have to pull out of this stupor soon. But not yet. She didn’t have the strength for it yet.
Her second day without her father, she knew she had to get up. Pa’s body still lay wrapped in the furs, waiting to be laid to rest. And as patient as Beaver and Caleb were being, they couldn’t stay camped on the side of this mountain forever, suspended in time.
Winter would be on them within weeks, or maybe only days, if the fiercely cold nights were any indication.
After she’d stumbled downhill for a few moments of privacy, she returned to the camp the men had set up. The mountain protected them on two sides, keeping the almost-constant wind from blowing out their fire.
Caleb looked up at her approach from his place by the fire. Beaver sat a short distance away, stitching buckskins. Both men studied her.
“You ready for a bowl of corn mush, Miss Susanna?” Caleb stirred the mixture in the pot nearest the flame.
She nodded. “Thank you.” Her voice rasped as she forced her raw throat to work. She still felt half-asleep, her mind numb and her eyes not willing to focus, but she dropped down to sit beside the fire. Maybe its warmth would wake her fully, bring her back to this world. As much as she didn’t want to face it, she would have to make a new life without her father.
Her gaze wandered to Beaver Tail. He looked up from his work as though he could feel her watching. The softness in his eyes reminded her of Pa, and the burn of tears rushed in again. She blinked them back, then allowed her eyelids to drift shut as she turned back to the fire. She inhaled a long breath, let the woodsmoke fill her senses. Let the turmoil inside her ease.
One step at a time. First, she would break her fast with corn mush. Then she’d ask the men if they could bury her father here. Though his spirit was in heaven worshipping the God he loved, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect place for his body to rest than these mountains he’d loved so much.
Chapter 24
“Where to now?”
Both men were looking at her, waiting for her to answer the question, and Susanna’s heart clutched almost too tight to let the words out. Did they think she should go back east like Pa had planned? Find the cousin he’d arranged for her to live with and build a new life in Boston? The thought twisted sourly in her gut.
After tasting the freedom of this beautiful country, the wild adventure of each new day in this land, how could she possibly go back to ordered, mundane living among people who thought civilization was the best life had to offer? Especially living in a city. She and Pa had visited larger towns, especially as they searched for his cure. But she’d never been forced to live so closed in, surrounded by people and industry and noise—constant noise.
She met Beaver’s gaze. The decision was an easy one. Not even a choice, really. “We need to find Joel and French, right? And Adam.” As long as she was with these men, she would be safe. She would have a purpose.
Maybe another path would make itself clear to her at some point, but for now, this seemed right.
Beaver studied her, looking deeper than her eyes. She opened herself to his gaze. In truth, she didn’t have the strength to hide anything.
The Adam’s apple at his throat worked, and his mouth parted. The pain in his eyes deepened, and at last he expelled a ragged breath.
He turned to Caleb with a single nod. “All right.”
Beaver Tail glanced over at Susanna as they rode. Did each step of this journey bring back painful memories for her the way it did for him? Winding down this mountain, he could almost hear each gurgling breath Wilkins had fought for.
Such a remarkable man. Even in the few weeks Beaver had known him, he’d been impressed by the man’s wit and intelligence, his attention to detail, his abilities with guns. And underneath it all, the caring streak he wove into every interaction. Every look. Every touch.
How could he not respect such a man? And how could he not give serious consideration to the faith that had been so important to him? Especially if that faith was also important to Susanna. He’d had a few questions to ask Caleb when they were alone.
He slid Susanna another glance, and the weary slope of her shoulders pressed hard on him. God, if You’re real, take Susanna’s grief and give her comfort. He wanted to be the one to do that himself, but he was a mere human, and the weight of her pain was too much for any one person to overcome. He would help shoulder as much as he could, though.
They traveled much more quickly down the mountain than they had up, and where the trail separated, they turned westward. As best he could tell, this was the direction the Shoshone had said Adam and his group were headed.
He’d have to watch for markings from French and Joel to make sure they’d turned this way as well after skirting the mountain’s base.
They made camp by the Missouri River that ran between the mountains, peaks rising on both sides like mighty sentinels. Majestic towers he’d love to explore if he had more time. He understood why Wilkins had longed to come to this land.
Caleb offered to set out the meal for them, a simple fare of dried meat and roots he cooked over a fire. Beaver Tail made quick work of settling the horses. Should he make a shelter for Susanna, too? The sky was clear and bright, stars sparkling in the early darkness. No sign of rain, even though the crispy grass longed for moisture.
Still, Susanna deserved to be cared for and protected, cherished in every way he could. A shelter for her to sleep under was the least he could do.
He glanced to where she stood by the river’s edge, staring down into the water. Loneliness draped her figure, separating her from everything around her. His chest ached with the pain of it. He could ease her loneliness, make sure she knew she would never be alone, not unless she wanted it.
Now the ache in his chest felt like a knife blade. Would she turn him away? Now that her father wasn’t there for her to worry over, now that she was free to make a choice for herself, would she find him unworthy? Ayadna had, but Susanna wasn’t like her. She wasn’t like anyone. He�
��d never felt so connected to another being as he did with Susanna.
Never loved anyone as he did her.
Maybe this wasn’t the right time, but someday, somehow, he would find a way to tell her that. When she was ready.
His feet moved toward her before his mind had a chance to direct them. Should he step up behind her and slip his arms around her like he wanted to? Maybe she needed a friend more than anything right now.
He stepped beside her, soaking in her quiet, the steady murmur of the water rushing before them. Settling into the connection between them.
A splash in the water caught his attention. A flash of brown, then it was gone. He studied the spot, straining to hear any unusual sounds. He’d let his awareness dull these past days of sadness, but no more.
The brown resurfaced in the water, a spot about the size of his palm. As awareness sank through him, his mouth threatened to pull into a smile. Surely this wasn’t the same beaver.
He glanced toward the trees to their left. That aspen would be tasty. He touched Susanna’s elbow and pointed out at the creature.
She squinted at the brown patch.
He crept toward the aspen and found a small branch that still contained a few leaves. Then he eased back to the edge of the river. The beaver still watched them, about two arm lengths away from the bank. Beaver Tail would have to stretch, but he could probably reach the leaves to the creature.
Motioning for Susanna to come closer, he bent low so he made a less formidable figure for the animal. She gripped his arm as she crouched beside him, and the warmth of her touch distracted his focus.
He couldn’t help a glance at her, so pretty in the moonlight as she stared toward the beaver. He turned his attention back to the animal, too.
Reaching out the aspen branch, he rested the spindly twigs with their few leaves on the water. The beaver didn’t move, and Beaver Tail could barely make out wide eyes staring at them. Bristles of its damp fur spiked in waterlogged sections. His little sisters would have called the creature cute.
Little by little, it crept nearer, raising its head out of the water just enough to show its nose. Then its mouth and a flash of white teeth as the animal took a leaf in its mouth.
A rush of exaltation surged through Beaver Tail, but he worked hard to keep his body still. The animal’s head shifted slightly as it chewed, then it reached for another leaf. When it moved, patches of light brown fur showed at the base of its head near the shoulders.
For long moments they crouched there, watching the beaver eat while it kept a steady eye on them. After a few more leaves, the animal seemed to have its fill. With a little splash, it slipped backward, disappearing under the water. The flowing river smoothed out the ripples the creature had caused, leaving no sign the beaver had been there at all.
Susanna released an audible breath, and her grip tightened on his arm as she stood. He rose to join her, turning to meet her pretty gaze. Those wide eyes tightened his chest, making him want to slip an arm around her waist and pull her close.
“Do you think that was the same one we saw before? It couldn’t be, could it? Would he have come so far?” She looked at him as though he had all the answers.
In truth, he could barely breathe under that look, much less think. He forced his mind to form words that made sense. “It doesn’t seem likely, but I’ve never known a beaver to be so brave toward people. And he bore the same light brown markings on his shoulders.” The corners of his mouth pulled as the name he’d given the animal came back to him. “He Who Is Brave.”
Susanna’s face softened, losing some of the angst that had molded her features for days. Her eyes almost smiled, like she’d forgotten—just for a moment—the weight of her sadness. “He is a brave little fella. And cute.”
She glanced back toward the water, looking for the beaver again maybe. The motion exposed the creamy skin of her neck, the fragile line of her. The sweet vulnerability.
He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stepped nearer, slipping a hand around her waist.
The action didn’t seem to surprise her. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. Fitting perfectly under his chin.
He wrapped both arms around her and breathed her in. This feeling of wholeness was stronger than anything he’d imagined. He’d never thought a woman could stake such a claim on his heart. Never believed he’d need another to complete him.
The question was, could he be the man she needed? He had to come to a decision about the God she believed in. I can’t give her to a man who doesn’t know our God. She’d never be happy. Wilkins words still rang in his ears, and there was a powerful truth in them.
He would wait until she was ready, ’til the hardest of her grieving had passed. Yet even then, he couldn’t ask Susanna to become his unless he knew he could be what she needed.
In every way.
Another day. Susanna’s weary limbs ached as she climbed down from her gelding the next evening.
Caleb appeared at her horse’s head and gripped the reins. “I’ll take him, Miss Susanna. You just sit yourself down and rest awhile.”
The usual twinkle in his eye had dulled these past days, and he tended to look at her with a sadness bordering on pity. She didn’t like being pitied, but that was probably a normal emotion. Knowing what to say when someone lost part of their world was harder than some realized.
In truth, how could any words ease the pain? Yet she had to go on. Even though her heart and mind and spirit balked at the thought, she was pushing her body through the actions of each day.
She untied her bedroll and her personal satchel from behind her saddle, then turned to where Beaver Tail was already setting up camp. They’d followed the river all day, which had involved skirting the base of one mountain and climbing partway up another.
Even riding on horseback, the day had been exhausting.
Beaver was bent over, pulling parcels from their food pack, when she dropped her own bundles nearby. He shifted his gaze to her and straightened. “I’ll get wood for the fire. Sit and rest.” He turned and strode toward a copse of pines.
Sit and rest. The same thing Caleb had said. Did they both think she was such a weakling? She might look exhausted, but she would do her part around camp. Maybe she hadn’t carried her load during those first two days after Pa’s passing, but she would now. No matter how much the work took out of her.
She dropped to her knees and started unwrapping the food bundles she’d need to prepare the evening meal. She couldn’t afford for the men to think of her as a weight that only slowed them down.
Surely Beaver Tail wouldn’t think of her that way. Not the man she’d come to know…and love. Yes, in her deepest heart, love had curled and wound itself like a beautiful ivy, waiting for the moment when it could break through to the sunlight.
Her emotions were in such turmoil now. But, Lord willing, soon she’d be able to open her heart to this man who’d been waiting so patiently, always there for her, even in her darkest days.
Except…had he ever come to accept her faith? Pa had cautioned her against giving her heart to him. Said Beaver didn’t believe, although he’d been talking with him of the hope waiting for them in heaven. Surely Caleb had laid out the truth of God’s love, too. Had Beaver given his heart to the One who stood waiting? Would he speak of it to her if he had?
Shame niggled in her chest. She should have also shared her faith with him. Spoken of the God who meant more to her than anything in her life with the man who was coming to mean almost as much. Lord, forgive me. Draw him to You.
For once, she wished God hadn’t given his creation free will to choose whether they would come to Him or not.
Lord. She didn’t have the words to express the angst building in her chest. But God knew, and she let her spirit speak with her Creator as she moved through the motions of making a warm meal for them.
The icy wind tugged at her coat, blowing through even the thick layer of wool, numbing her hands and ears
as she worked. Had winter finally arrived? She might need another layer of protection if they stayed long in the mountain country. Another coat, gloves, some kind of hat to cover her head, and a scarf. How could she come by such clothing out here?
Maybe using furs, if Beaver Tail would help her catch the right animals and work the hides. She wanted to learn the art he’d plied so easily on their journey, in the evenings and quiet days when they’d been waiting for Pa.
She’d watched him, even helped scrape some hides. But there was much more she’d not yet learned. He seemed to handle each type of pelt a little differently. A master who understood the nuances of each project.
Beaver Tail returned with an armload of wood and dropped to his knees. She handed him some tinder and the bow and stick he used to kindle fires and couldn’t help watching as he scooped the tinder into a pile, then worked the stick and bow until the place they joined began to smoke.
The lean muscle in his wrists flexed, and she could even see the bunching of his arms and shoulders through his buckskin coat. Her fingers craved to reach out and touch him, to feel his strength under her hand. To be cradled by that strength.
She inhaled a breath to steady herself. A walk to the river might be in order, especially since she needed water for the evening meal anyway. But more than anything, she needed to clear her mind.
Put a little space between her and this man before she lost what little control of her heart she had left.
Chapter 25
Beaver Tail hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d faced off with a mountain cat last spring. He pulled the buckskin from the pack he’d left near the horses and smoothed the leather over his arm. The texture was as soft as he could make it from the furs he had with him. He’d done his best work with the stitching. He could only hope he’d fitted the size right. If not, would she be insulted? He could remake whatever he needed to.
Freedom in the Mountain Wind Page 18
