Love's Mountain Quest

by Misty M. Beller

  “Miss Hannon?” His words seemed to break her trance, and she jerked her gaze to him.

  “Is he . . . will he die?” Her voice barely sounded above a whisper.

  Poor woman. She likely already endured watching Sheriff Zander’s death. Now she’d been forced to endure more bloodshed. He couldn’t lie to her, but maybe he could soften the seriousness of Aaron’s condition.

  “He’s hurt, but we’ll get him to town and do everything we can for him.” Isaac still didn’t know whether Rex was alive. But Aaron was the one who seemed to be drawing her focus.

  Her lips parted like she would speak, then she closed them. Then opened them again. “I didn’t mean to shoot him. I looked up and saw Rex with that pistol aimed at me. I got so angry. After everything he’d done . . .” A bit of color crept back into her face and her eyes regained some life.

  “I grabbed up a gun someone had dropped and aimed it at him. My finger must have squeezed the trigger too soon. Aaron was diving toward Rex . . . to stop him, I think. I didn’t mean . . .” Her words faded into a whimper as she raised pleading eyes to him.

  Lord, help her. He reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “We’ll do what we can for him. Why don’t you wait with Joanna for now? We’ll get you back to town soon.”

  She nodded and walked woodenly toward Joanna and Samuel, who were making their way across the yard toward them.

  Isaac heaved out a sigh. What would happen next?

  As he made his way toward Rex, Knight stepped away from the others to meet Isaac, his mouth in a tight line. “He must have had a revolver hidden somewhere we missed. Aaron saw it before anyone else and tried to stop him. That effort must have made his bullet go high. Miss Hannon reacted before I could get my rifle aimed at him. We don’t need to worry about him anymore, though.” The man looked almost apologetic, and the same kind of remorse slipped through Isaac.

  As many crimes as Rex Stanley had committed, maybe he deserved death. But every man’s life was precious in God’s eyes. Taking that life was no light thing.

  Isaac eased out a long breath of the turmoil building in his chest. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, his gaze sliding over to find Joanna.

  She stood just outside the gathering of men, one arm around Samuel and the other around Miss Hannon. Joanna’s chin was raised as she watched them, her inner strength evident in her regal bearing.

  They’d both made it through the battle, through the awful ordeal of the past week. And Samuel was safe.

  His gaze wandered around the clearing that held so many memories. Each one added another layer of guilt, sinking like rocks in his belly.

  He inhaled a deep breath, then released it. He could put the guilt behind him now. God had forgiven him. And he’d finally helped stop the evil he set in motion all those years ago. Now he could focus on the future.

  Joanna cradled her son in the back of the wagon, holding him as close as a second skin. They could have ridden her horse, but Samuel needed every bit of her focus that she could give just now. He sniffled a great deal, and when she asked Laura, her friend said he’d been ill for several days.

  Her heart nearly broke at the thought. Her baby, the only family she had left, sleeping tied to a tree. Feverish, shivering, hungry. He was so quiet, and her fingers found the outline of his every rib without seeking them out.

  She tucked her chin tighter over his matted red curls. Her gaze found Laura, riding one of the horses alongside the wagon.

  Speaking of quiet, her friend hadn’t spoken a word unless prompted. Joanna had tried to ask about what had taken place, but Laura hadn’t shared many details. Joanna wanted to pull her friend close, to tuck Laura away from anything that could hurt her. It would likely take some time before the woman was ready to talk.

  A groan emanated from the man lying on the other side of the wagon bed, louder than the steady stream of moans that had slipped from him since they’d all piled into the conveyance.

  With all the blood soaking his makeshift bandage, he must be in a great deal of pain. In truth, she was struggling to find any sympathy for the man. Maybe for his brother, who Isaac said had helped her son and friend. The brother who now knelt over the wounded man, fear marking his face in a way that reminded her of her own terror this past week, wondering if her son would live or die, and how much pain he’d endured.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus on something other than those awful memories. Tried to focus on her joy. Thank you, Father. I can’t thank you enough. Those were the words echoing through her mind as Mr. Tillis halted the wagon in front of Mrs. Holder’s boardinghouse.

  The woman pulled open the door and pressed a hand to her mouth as she took in the scene before her. “Bless me. Come inside, all of you. I’ve a warm meal and everything else you need.”

  Samuel straightened in her arms, probably at the word meal. Maybe all her son needed was plenty of food, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep.

  Four of the men had taken Bill to be held in a secure place, along with Rex’s body. She wasn’t sure what would happen to either of them. She wanted justice, of course, but as long as the men had them in hand, she had more than enough to worry about here.

  Mrs. Holder took charge of Laura, guiding her into the house like a mother hen nurturing her chick. Isaac appeared at the back of the wagon, propped on his walking sticks, to help Joanna and her son to the ground. The concern cloaking his face made her want to slip into his arms, to let herself be cared for by this man who was so much bigger and stronger than she was. His shoulders were wide enough to bear the weight of her worries.

  But she didn’t. Just tried to summon a half-smile to thank him for his help from the wagon. Later, when she had more energy and wasn’t so close to tears, she’d thank him for everything else.

  Laura forced her puffy eyes open but pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. The few hours that had passed since they’d arrived in River Crossing felt like days. If only she could imagine herself back in Settler’s Fort, back in her tiny rented room. She’d give anything to be back inside those canvas walls on the thin straw mattress she’d once hated.

  If only this past week had never happened.

  Even now, as the dim evening light revealed the spotless room around her—the washbasin with embroidered towel, the trunk draped in a spring quilt—this lovely environment didn’t seem real. Any moment she might awaken to Bill’s booted foot kicking her side. Rex’s lecherous gaze sliding over her.

  She pulled the blanket tighter around her, then pushed herself up from the bed, biting back a groan at the knife of pain in her ribs. She couldn’t let herself sleep. Couldn’t let the nightmare come back. Couldn’t relive the moment she’d pulled the trigger and watched the horror on Aaron’s face as her bullet struck.

  With the quilt still draped over her shoulders, she slipped her feet into her filthy, worn boots. Mrs. Holder had found a shirtwaist and skirt she could wear while her clothes were being washed. In truth, she never wanted to see that stained and torn brown material again.

  She should lay the blanket back across the bed, leave it exactly as she’d found it. But she couldn’t make herself remove it from her shoulders. If anyone asked why she kept it tight around her shoulders, she’d say she’d taken a chill.

  Summoning a breath of courage, she pulled open the bedchamber door and stepped into the main room. The place was quiet. Nothing like the flurry of activity when they’d first arrived.

  She glanced toward the kitchen. No clanging of pans sounded from that room, nor did she hear Mrs. Holder’s gentle voice, the tone she’d used to encourage Laura to finish two plates of dumplings.

  A moan drifted from the room to her left. The door stood partway open, making it hard not to catch a glimpse of the man sitting on the side of the bed. She recognized Nate’s shoulders, although the defeated slump was a sight she’d never seen before. A pang pressed her chest, a sympathy she’d not thought possible this day.

  Stepping through the do
orway, her gaze found the man lying in the bed. Aaron’s face was twisted with pain, his skin almost as pale as the white pillow behind him.

  The knot in her middle tightened. Was he dying? She’d not meant to kill Aaron. When Rex turned that gun on her, all the anger from his ill treatment had spewed up like a geyser. She’d not stopped to think, just picked up the pistol, pointed, and fired.

  If only she’d taken an extra second to make sure her aim was true. Her error may end up taking the life of the wrong man.

  Her feet drew her nearer, even as part of her begged to turn and flee. There was nothing she could do to help Aaron that hadn’t been done already.

  She gulped a breath to keep herself steady, even as the room around her began to swim before her eyes.

  “Laura?” Nate’s voice.

  She did her best to focus on him, to still the spinning in her head.

  “Are you all right?”

  As the words took shape in her mind, a laugh almost slipped out. Would she ever be all right after this past week?

  “I’m sorry, Laura. I didn’t mean . . .” The sorrow in Nate’s tone—the pain—pulled her focus. A welcome relief.

  She glanced toward his brother. “How is he?”

  Nate followed her gaze. “Not good.” His voice cracked. “He lost a lot of blood. I don’t know . . .”

  She could hear the unspoken . . . if he’ll make it. It wasn’t hard to imagine the pain he must be feeling. Guilt pressed harder on her chest. “Is he your older or younger brother?”

  Nate cleared his throat, and his tone dropped as he tried to gain control of himself. “Younger. By a few minutes.”

  She slid her gaze between them again. “You’re twins? No wonder you look so much alike.”

  Nate nodded. “Not identical. But close in every way that matters.”

  She could feel the ache. The cry in Nate’s spirit that said he wasn’t sure he wanted to be left behind if Aaron died. She wanted to reach out, to clutch Nate’s arm and tell him he still had his own life to live.

  He may have to make restitution or serve a sentence for his crimes, but then he could become a new man—any man he wanted to be.

  That’s what she had to believe was still possible for her. Even though nothing had worked out the way she’d planned . . .

  She inhaled a deep breath to strengthen her shaky legs. They wouldn’t support her much longer, so she needed to either sit at the foot of the bed or leave this room. Sitting on a bed occupied by not one but two men was more than she could handle.

  So she managed an “I hope he feels better,” then turned and fled.

  As Laura stepped into the main room, a motion by the hearth caught her focus. Joanna sat in a rocking chair, Samuel tucked in her arms as she quietly swayed forward and back. The serenity of the scene tugged at her, calling to the raw ache inside. Joanna would be safe, not forcing her to talk or relive anything from this week.

  Laura approached the grouping of chairs, and Joanna smiled up at her. The sadness lacing her expression seemed befitting, yet there was a peace about her, too. A tranquility Laura so desperately wanted.

  A feeling she might never know again.

  She took a seat across from her friend. Joanna glanced back toward the bedchamber doors, then returned her gaze to Laura with a soft smile. “Did you sleep any?”

  Laura nodded. “A little.” No need to mention the nightmare. Something she’d undoubtedly relive many times over. “How is he?” She nodded toward Samuel.

  Joanna’s smile softened. “I think sleep will help him the most right now. I can’t thank you enough, Laura. He came through far better than I feared, and I’m sure that was due to your efforts. Your protection, even at . . .” Pain crossed her face. “Personal cost. You’ve been injured, and I can only imagine how frightened you must have been through it all.”

  Laura averted her eyes away from Joanna. The words struck too close to her pain. Too near the raw places she would have to shore up. She could only nod.

  Joanna exhaled a breath loud enough to hear across the space between them. “I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get back to Settler’s Fort. I haven’t had a chance to speak with Isaac yet about our plan to return, but I’ll do that soon. Today, if possible.”

  She raised her brows at Joanna. “Isaac?”

  The woman’s cheeks turned rosy. “Mr. Bowen. He’s been such a help as we tried to catch up with you. I’m not sure I could have done it without him.”

  It wasn’t hard to tell from that blush and the small smile curving Joanna’s lips that the week together had accomplished more than a simple journey. Good for them. Joanna needed a worthy man, and what little Laura had seen of Mr. Bowen made her think he would be just what her friend needed.

  If the two had found love, she could be happy for Joanna. At least her friend would have what Laura always wanted.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Would you like to take a walk with me outside? We could go visit the horses.” Joanna dropped to her knees to wipe Samuel’s face after their evening meal. He’d clutched her hand or skirt every moment since he woke from a long nap that afternoon. While she relished every contact, he probably needed something to distract his mind. Something that would pull forth a verbal reaction.

  He nodded in answer to her question, his little hand gripping her upper arm as she finished wiping the last of the gravy from his chin.

  At least he was responding, though not yet with words. Restore my son, Lord. Wipe this awful week from his mind and bring back the happy lad he was before. Not even his father’s death had affected her boy this completely.

  But they would recover. Together with God, she and Samuel would find their rhythm again.

  A face slipped into her mind. The strong, chiseled lines of a mountain man, confident in his own skin. The man who had been her strength for much of the journey to find Samuel. Who had taken part of her load, made her feel as though she didn’t have to shoulder the full weight of the worries.

  The man who’d come to mean so much more to her than she ever imagined.

  As she and Samuel stepped from the boardinghouse onto the street, her mind strayed back to Isaac. She’d only seen him once since they returned from the shootout on the mountain. He’d been talking in low tones with several others, probably about what to do with the prisoners, and she’d been snuggling Samuel tight in the rocking chair.

  Isaac had left with those men, but not before he’d come to her side. He knelt where he could see Samuel’s face and rested his hand on the boy’s back. “We’re real glad to have you back, son.”

  Samuel had nodded, one of his first physical reactions since they’d rescued him. When Isaac’s eyes had lifted to meet hers, the sheen of moisture in them brought forth a matching response in her own eyes. Her soul felt both his anguish and his relief in its very core.

  If she’d questioned before whether Isaac cared, she need wonder no longer. Yet, what would they ever do about that? He’d kept an emotional distance between them due to his history with the gang who kidnapped Samuel. He probably thought any chance the two of them had for a permanent connection was destroyed by his revelation.

  At first, she would have agreed with him.

  But now, after all he’d done for her and Samuel and Laura, all he’d sacrificed to make things right, how could she not see the man he was now? Wasn’t there a verse in Corinthians that talked about a man becoming a new creation when he turned to Christ? Isaac had to be the perfect example of that.

  She hadn’t known him before, during his crime-ridden days. But she knew Isaac Bowen now, and her respect for the man grew with each hour they spent together.

  If she were honest with herself, what she felt for him was more than respect. She’d known the intensity of love before, yet this time the emotion felt more mature. Richer.

  The question was, what did she plan to do about it?

  Thankfully, the livery came into view, offering the perfect distraction to her thoughts. Later, she
could ponder what she would do, when her emotions weren’t churning so wildly.

  Just now, the whinny of a horse made her son raise his head. The inside of the stable was lit by the warm glow of a lantern hanging on the doorpost. Gentle sounds of hooves rustling in hay drifted from within, but no human noises mingled with them. It was possible Mr. Tillis may be working quietly, though.

  She approached the first stall on the right and received a welcoming nicker from the mare she and Isaac had brought from the livery in Settler’s Fort. “This is the horse Mama rode part of the way to find you.” Should she mention the wolf attack? Normally Samuel would love that type of story, so fraught with danger. But maybe he needed to feel safe just now.

  Best to settle for a simple explanation. “She got hurt, so then I rode this horse over here.” Turning across the aisle, she led her son to one of the geldings.

  The horse reached its head over the wall and snuffled Samuel’s outstretched hand. Her son made a sound that sent a spurt of hope through Joanna. Was that a chuckle? She couldn’t help her own smile as she rubbed the boy’s back. “I think he likes you.”

  The sound of a boot thud and thumping on the hard-packed floor made her spin, her pulse surging. But the outline of Isaac’s broad shoulders, framed by the lantern light behind him as he limped toward them with the walking sticks, eased the racing in her heart. “I thought that was you two I saw walking down the street.” His voice was light and inviting as he came to stand beside them.

  “We decided to come see the horses.” She matched her tone to his.

  Samuel stared up at the man, but the dim light from the lantern wasn’t enough to see the expression in his eyes.

  Isaac brushed a hand through the boy’s wild curls. “Did you see the burros down at the end?”

  Joanna held her tongue, waiting to see if the lad would respond. He shook his head.

  “Well, then. You don’t wanna miss ’em. Let me get the lantern.” After retrieving the light, Isaac led them down the aisle. With the three of them walking side by side, as though they were a family, a feeling of rightness seeped through her.