Love's Mountain Quest

by Misty M. Beller

  “Since we don’t have needle and thread, that’ll have to wait till we’re at the cabin. For now, clean it good and doctor it up for me.” If possible, the man’s voice turned more slippery, lowering into almost a rasp. “Bill brought you some water and salve.”

  He reached for the buttons at his waist, and horror clutched at her chest as she realized what he was about to do. Not since she was ten years old had she seen a male in his underthings. And then, it had only been her half-grown brothers.

  She would not attend to this man unless he was fully clothed.

  “Do not undress, sir. I can do everything I need to through the hole in your trousers.” She could only hope her voice came through with enough command, not like a frightened schoolgirl. Which was how she felt.

  He chuckled, but his fingers never stopped working at the buttons. He’d already released the top two, and she forced her eyes away from the awful sight. The branches were mostly leafed out, so they kept much of the water from falling on the camp. But they also hid what little sun dared press through the thick clouds above. This copse should have been shelter in the storm, yet instead a smothering darkness pressed down on her.

  “Rex.” The bark of the man’s name made her jump, but it was the fury in the voice that made her spin around.

  Nate’s expression had melted into full rage. “Cover yourself, you filthy lowlife. Have you no shame?” He jerked against the ties that held him to a sturdy pine like a bull buffalo rushing an attacking wolf.

  Bill spun the gun in his direction, but he didn’t spare it a glance. “Get away from him, Laura,” Nate said through a steely jaw.

  With the weapon no longer pressed into her back, she was already moving by the time he finished saying her name. Even as she darted away, she prepared herself for Rex or Bill to grab her.

  But neither did. God’s hand must have stopped them, for only the Almighty could control the evil inside these men.

  One more thing to regret.

  Isaac usually loved long hours in the saddle, extended time where the sounds of God’s creation spoke to him, the majesty of this land quieting his spirit. He’d think back through the verses he’d memorized, talk to God about anything on his mind, and soak in the peacefulness of it all.

  But these hours of silence had been steadily eating at his nerves, churning a knot in his belly. He had to apologize to Joanna for his ill-mannered behavior back at the camp. Pa would be appalled at his rudeness, and Isaac had promised himself a long time ago he wouldn’t do another thing to disappoint his father. Not if he could help it.

  He’d have to be careful when he apologized, though. No matter how hard he tried to build a barrier between them, every time he was near her—nay, every time he looked at her across the camp—every part of him wanted to pull her close. Not just for another kiss, but to feel the connection between them.

  He’d never known a woman like her. Not only was she one of the prettiest he’d ever met, but she was also so brave and kind and hardworking. Yet it was more than that that drew him. She seemed to see every part of him—and didn’t appear disgusted by what she saw.

  But even so, there was a part she couldn’t see. Not yet. It would be impossible to hide the truth from her for long. If he wasn’t forced to admit it when they sought help in town, it would most definitely come out when he confronted the gang.

  And the last thing he wanted was for Joanna to learn about his past from the lips of someone else. He could only imagine the shock, the horror, the hurt that would fill her eyes.

  He couldn’t bear for her to look at him that way. He had to tell her himself. At least then he could give her all the details. Could try to explain how much he’d changed.

  How much God had changed him.

  If the rest of their travel went without mishap, they’d reach the little town of River Crossing tomorrow night. With any luck, they could gather men to help, then reach the old cabin hideout by midmorning the next day.

  Which meant he had to find a time to tell Joanna before tomorrow night. Maybe when they camped soon, since the thick of night was just about on them. Or maybe she’d feel nervous sleeping by the same fire as him once she knew his past. Might be better to tell her on the trail tomorrow. That way, if she wanted to ride off and leave him in her dust, she could do so safely.

  He’d still get her boy back, and Miss Hannon, too. But he didn’t want her to feel tied to him for a single minute. Not when he knew she would hate the sight of him.

  So tomorrow it would be.

  For now, he needed to watch for a good spot to camp. He’d shifted their direction a little to the west, more of a straight shot toward town instead of following the gang’s tracks.

  He and Joanna had experienced so many delays that it wasn’t likely they would catch Aaron and the others before they reached the cabin, but they could at least cut off a couple hours of the journey to town by taking this route.

  A stand of trees ahead would be a good place to camp. Even if there wasn’t a creek in the woods, the water they’d crossed an hour before would hold the horses overnight. And he and Joanna had refilled their water flasks, so they could make that last until morning, too.

  As they neared the spot, he motioned for Joanna to slow. “We’ll camp here for the night, but I’d like to take a look in the trees before we dismount.” Something about them raised his instincts. This country felt vast and empty, but it wasn’t.

  “Think we’ll have company in there?” Joanna had read his mind, as usual. Her voice held a hint of teasing that brought a lightness in his chest. But on its flank was an awful reminder that soon she’d never joke with him again.

  “Better to check than be surprised.”

  Joanna halted her horse and the packhorse at the edge of the trees. He’d already pulled his rifle from the scabbard, but now rested it loosely against his shoulder.

  The night was so dark that entering the trees felt like walking into a cave. Isaac strained to hear sounds of what other animals were waiting for him there. Maybe a bear, or a mountain lion. Perhaps only a herd of mountain goats.

  But this wasn’t a cave, as was clear by the steady chirp of crickets. The cry of a nightjar rang through the trees, answered by another bird closer to him. The hoot of an owl sounded in a different section. Isaac cocked his head. The nightjar calls could have possibly been the sounds of humans signaling each other, but that owl hoot was too natural to be feigned. He’d ride on to the end of the little copse to be sure, but none of his instincts alerted to the presence of other humans.

  And he could almost always trust his instincts. Unless, of course, they’d been dulled by a kiss so powerful, he could still feel it through every part of him. He pushed the memory away before it could take hold.

  He was partway through the trees when shadows began to swoop over his head. In the darkness, he couldn’t get a good look at them, but he didn’t have to. These types of trees made the perfect home for bats on a summer eve. His gelding tensed, but the horse had been through worse than a few winged creatures.

  “Easy, boy.” His words seemed to calm the horse, and they finally reached the other edge of the trees without further excitement.

  He circled around the grove to reach Joanna instead of going back through. When he was halfway to her, the sound of her voice—a little reedy—drifted to him.

  “Isaac?”

  “I’m here.” He should have alerted her of his presence instead of frightening her like this. When he reached her, the faint glow of the crescent moon shone around her, making her look even more like the angel she was.

  His chest ached at the sight. Which was probably why he let his horse walk all the way up to hers before halting the animal. This close, he could see the way each of Joanna’s pretty features worked together to form a face that nearly took his breath away.

  “Did you find a place to camp?”

  Her words took a moment to register, but they effectively pulled him from his wayward thoughts. He turned his geldin
g toward the trees. “Yep. Just a few crickets and some birds in there. Should be fine for a camp.”

  Too bad there wasn’t another cold spring to dunk his head in. He needed something to bring him back to his senses.

  FIFTEEN

  Something wasn’t right.

  Joanna couldn’t tell what had her nerves so unsettled. Maybe it was the darkness that hovered close around them. They’d agreed that with the night so late and no water nearby, there wasn’t much sense in building a fire.

  Or maybe Isaac’s own behavior was what had her on edge. One moment he’d watch her with a soft expression, as though he might pull her into his arms. Then, a breath later, he’d clamp his jaw and answer with single-word responses. Was she doing something that bothered him?

  Maybe he regretted their kiss. Perhaps he didn’t want any permanent ties with her, so he was doing his best to build a barrier between them. If she were truthful with herself, during the long hours in the saddle she’d imagined what it might look like for this connection they’d been building to continue after things settled down again. After she and Samuel were returned to their little home in Settler’s Fort.

  But Isaac clearly had no desire to go down that path. She’d best put it out of her own mind.

  While she’d tied the horses out to graze for the night, he’d pulled a simple meal from the pack, along with their blankets. She settled onto the bedding and took the food he’d wordlessly offered. “Thank you. How are we doing with supplies?”

  “We have enough until we reach town tomorrow. I’ll need to restock everything before heading back to Settler’s Fort.”

  What did he mean by the shift from we to I in his statements? Maybe he simply planned to handle finding and paying for the goods himself. She couldn’t allow him to shoulder all the costs.

  “I’ll give you money for food once we’re back in Settler’s Fort.” It would take every last penny she had until she was paid again, but she owed him so much more than a few coins and a small pouch of gold dust for everything he’d endured to find Samuel and Laura. The man had a broken leg, for Betsy’s sake.

  And who knew what would happen when they caught up with the kidnappers.

  Lord, keep us all safe. Prepare the way for us, and keep my boy and Laura unharmed. Please.

  She bit into a piece of roasted meat as a nicker drifted from where she’d staked the horses.

  “Sounds like the mare.” Isaac sat straighter.

  The whinny hadn’t sounded fearful. Maybe she was simply caught in her rope. Joanna pushed to her feet.

  “I’m coming, too.” Isaac turned onto his knees, then struggled to stand. Everything was such an effort for him, and she could hear the frustration in his tone. Maybe that was contributing to his strange behavior.

  “Let me walk to the edge of the woods and look out on them first. If there’s any cause for concern, I’ll come back and get you.”

  He did his single-footed hop to push himself up to standing, then gripped a tree branch to steady himself. “Take the rifle.” His voice had a bit of a growl. Then he added, “But don’t use it unless you have to. Come back and get me.”

  A warmth swept through her chest. It wasn’t hard to see through that grouchy façade to the protectiveness underneath. It felt like forever since she’d had someone else worry about her.

  She bent to retrieve the gun and shot bag. “I will.” Then she stepped toward the edge of the woods. Even now that her eyes had adjusted to the thick darkness in these trees, she had to move slowly to keep from tripping over fallen branches and rocks.

  Another whinny sounded from the clearing ahead. This one was deeper . . . maybe one of the geldings? Lord, don’t let there be people out there. A group of Indians could have ridden up, or maybe even the kidnappers had circled back on them.

  Her heart lurched at the thought. She and Isaac needed the upper hand. The element of surprise. How could they get Samuel and Laura back when Isaac could barely hobble and they only had one rifle between them? Her son and friend would be in greater danger if the attack wasn’t handled right.

  At the edge of the woods, she clung close to a tree while her eyes adjusted to the brighter moonlight.

  Their horses hadn’t moved from where she left them. Yet all three stood with heads raised, shifting restlessly. The animals weren’t staring in the same direction like they would if a group of riders approached. No, each seemed to be facing different directions.

  Then Isaac’s gelding charged toward something, ears pinned back.

  A yelp sounded. Then a bark. A growl so menacing, it raised gooseflesh on her arms, even at this distance.

  Coyotes? Nay, wolves. No coyote would be foolish enough to attack three healthy horses. But hungry wolves might.

  She cocked the rifle and charged forward. Going back for Isaac would waste precious time. And she was a decent shot at close range. She’d had plenty of practice these last four years living on the wilderness homestead with Robert.

  Another yip sounded, then the squeal of a horse. She didn’t slow to see what was happening, just ran as fast as her skirts would allow through the thick grass.

  The barking turned ferocious, even as the ground underneath her dipped in a hidden gully. She tumbled forward, landing on her knees and fists as she struggled to keep her grip on the rifle. Her left wrist bent hard under the force of her weight.

  She ignored the pain, struggling back to her feet. Another squeal sounded from the horses, this one louder than the other. A mixture of anger and pain.

  God, help me get there in time. She was still twenty or so strides from the horses, and with the tall wheatgrass and other weeds, she couldn’t see the wolves clearly enough to shoot.

  Why had she tethered the horses so far away? This had seemed like the best grass that provided trees for all three to be tied. But the animals were too exposed.

  Finally, the grass was low enough to present a clear view of the wolves. Less than a dozen steps ahead, three doglike creatures faced one of the horses, bared teeth glimmering in the faint moonlight. The horse had turned its hind end to the attackers, and stood hunched, its tail tucked in preparation to kick at a moment’s notice.

  One of the wolves charged the horse’s flank. A second darted to the other side, moving up toward the shoulder. Probably trying to reach the horse’s neck. The third wolf attacked the flank on that same side.

  The horse jerked, spinning and kicking wildly to fight off the onslaught. It reared up, and the wolf at its neck leaped high into the air. In the darkness she couldn’t tell if the animal was hanging from the horse’s neck or still trying to strike there.

  Oh, God, help!

  She raised the rifle to her shoulder and sighted down the barrel. With the animals spinning and writhing, it was almost impossible to get a good shot. Especially with all of them only dark shadows.

  Moving closer and to the side to get a better angle, she focused on one of the wolves who must have been kicked away. It crouched in the grass, licking at a wound.

  She aimed and pulled the trigger, bracing herself for the hard kick of the gun. The wolf slumped into a heap, moving no more.

  The explosion seemed to halt the other attacks, and the two remaining wolves slunk back a few strides away from the horse. She worked quickly to reload the rifle for another shot, her fingers finding the rhythm she’d once known so well. Thankfully, this Hawken worked much like her own gun.

  The horse stood with its head down and tail tucked. Ears tipped backward to hear the next attack. She couldn’t tell how bad its wounds were, but the wolves had to be dealt with before she could focus on the injured animal.

  She raised the gun to her shoulder just as the wolves began pacing behind the horse again. She aimed for the larger of the two and squeezed the trigger.

  Either her focus was off or the wolf darted away at the last second, because when the gunpowder cleared the air enough for her to see, both animals were charging the horse again. She scrambled to reload, her heart thun
dering in her throat. That missed shot could be the difference between life and death for the poor horse.

  The mare’s fight wasn’t nearly as strong this time as one wolf went for the flank and the other the neck. The horse must be injured pretty badly.

  Shooting would be too dangerous with the animals so entangled, but she had to do something. Screaming like a crazy woman, she ran toward the animals, swinging the rifle like a club. The wolf on her nearest side was jumping at the horse’s throat, so she went for that enemy first.

  The wolf had caught hold, and either didn’t hear her screaming or didn’t think the threat worth breaking its grasp for.

  She slammed the butt of the rifle into the wolf’s head with all her strength.

  The beast yelped and jerked back, pulling the horse’s flesh with him for a moment as the mare cried out in pain. At last the wolf released the frightened animal. The horse shook its head and turned its efforts to kicking the wolf half-entangled in its legs.

  Joanna had her own battle to fight. The wolf she’d just struck had regained its faculties and crouched not two strides in front of her. This time, its menacing growl and bared teeth weren’t aimed at a wounded horse.

  She raised the rifle to her shoulder to aim at the animal. Lord, don’t let my wild swinging have dislodged the bullet and powder. The last thing she needed was a misfire.

  But she didn’t have enough time to adjust the rear set trigger and squeeze the front trigger that would make the gun fire.

  The wolf leapt at her face. She plunged the rifle barrel forward, defending herself as best she could against the mass of fur and teeth. The metal of the gun caught the animal in the throat, halting his momentum midair and tossing it backward.

  But the force of the wolf’s attack pushed her back, too, knocking her on her backside. She scrambled up to a sitting position, shifting her grip on the rifle as the wolf also struggled to its feet. She had to shoot the beast before it could attack again.

  Tightening the rifle against her shoulder, she positioned the rear trigger, aimed the barrel at the wolf’s snarling teeth, then braced herself as she pulled the front trigger.