Touched her again. Why was he doing that? He certainly wasn’t a fellow who went around laying hands on people. Yet twice this evening, he’d reached out and made contact with her before he realized what he’d done.
He was losing his mind. If he’d focus more on his work and less on the females in his party, maybe he’d stop doing irrational things.
The area around their camp didn’t have many low-hanging branches, so he had to travel down the creek before he found enough to build the shelter. As he collected the last of the boughs for the frame, his neck tingled with awareness. Was someone watching him?
Keeping his manner easy, he slid his glance back toward the camp. He could see the horses grazing just outside the woods, but trees blocked his view of Mrs. Clark and their campfire. Had she followed him? Come to ask something?
Yet he didn’t see her figure anywhere among the trunks around him. He did his best to keep from showing his tension as he made the final cut in the tree branch. When he stooped to pick-up the armful of logs and branches, he used the opportunity to scan the rest of the woods behind him.
No shifting shadows. Nothing that looked out of place. Maybe the unease was all in his mind. The Lord knew his head was certainly off-kilter tonight.
But he’d keep his guard up anyway. If someone was lurking around, watching them, the reason couldn’t be good. A friendly man would show himself.
It looked like the night would be a long one, but he’d do what was necessary to keep them safe. He’d been granted precious goods to protect, and there was no way he’d let anything happen to either of them.
THE COLD DUG DEEP INTO Moriah’s bones through the night, more frigid than any night on their journey so far. She had to fight hard to keep Cherry warm enough. Samuel stirred more than usual, too, and he kept the fire blazing strong. There simply wasn’t much they could do to ward off the force of winter as they neared the mountains.
They set out early the next morning, since moving seemed the only thing to ward off the chill. She kept Cherry wrapped in a fur inside the sling, and pulled a second fur around them both.
The landscape was gradually shifting into the hilly terrain that came just before the mountains. She still remembered the day three years before when she’d traveled this same path with Henry—going the opposite direction.
She’d been so afraid, yet she’d done her best not to let her fear show. Grandfather trusted Henry Clark, so she’d told herself she should too. But she’d been raised with stories of the brutality of her own father and his cohorts, which pounded the fear of white men deep inside her.
She’d not been willing to admit it at the time, but now she could see the root of bitterness that had grown in her toward her grandfather. If he loved her as much as she’d always thought, he wouldn’t have given her to a white man. At least, that had been her thought in those awful days.
But her grandfather had been right about Henry. As hard as it had been to leave her people and enter the strange life at the fort, he’d been good to her. Kind and patient. When she couldn’t stand another day among those men, he’d built her a house two hours’ ride away from them. A beautiful cabin—the nicest home she’d ever had.
And now she’d walked away from that home as though it were nothing. As though Henry and the life he’d worked so hard to build for them were meaningless.
She had to move forward. Had to find a place suitable for Cherry to grow up. The safety of the life she’d been raised in would be perfect. She couldn’t help craving that life, even now. Sure, living among people had its dangers. But those were dangers she knew well.
Samuel eased his horse back to ride alongside her. “How are you both holding up?” There came his easy grin, the one that always soothed her insides. Except this time the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe the cold was taking a toll on him, too.
She pulled the fur tighter around herself and the baby. “We’re well. Probably warmer than you are.” She nodded toward his buckskin jacket. It was sturdy enough, but he’d need a buffalo coat if he planned to last the winter in the mountains.
He tucked his chin into his collar as if she’d reminded him of how cold he was. “We can stop for the midday meal at those trees up ahead. Maybe build a fire and heat the rest of that good stew you made last night. That should help warm us from the inside.”
A wonderful idea, although it would slow down their travels. Good thing they’d started early that morning.
When they reached the thin row of trees bordering a narrow stream, Samuel helped her dismount and took her reins. “You take care of yourself and the baby. I’ll get a fire going.” He sent a glance around the area, then back over his shoulder the way they’d come.
“Thank you.” She shouldn’t let him take over all the work. But Cherry was starting to fuss, probably both hungry and cold from her soiled cloth. Moriah draped the fur over herself and the babe to keep them warm as she worked quickly to change her.
She’d become adept at getting the nursing process started quickly, so by the time Samuel returned to build the fire, she was settled with the furs wrapped around her.
An icy breeze blew out his flame twice before he was able to shield the area enough for the blaze to take hold. As he waited, protecting the tiny fire with his body, his focus shifted to scan their surroundings. He seemed to have done that a lot since they’d stopped.
“Are you looking for something?”
His gaze jerked to her. “I keep getting the feeling someone’s watching. I haven’t seen anyone, but I can’t shake it.”
She straightened. She’d been so focused on Cherry and keeping them both warm, she’d let her other senses slip. Grandfather would be disappointed.
Letting herself feel her surroundings, she pulled the fur tighter around herself and the nursing babe. “How long have you sensed this person?”
“Since last eve. Like I said, I haven’t seen even a hint of anyone. It’s just a gut feeling. Maybe only my imagination.”
She knew better than to think that. She leveled her gaze on Samuel. “We need to trap him. Make him think we’re leaving, then circle back.”
He nodded grimly, his look making it clear he didn’t think the feeling was only his imagination. “I was thinking when we leave these trees, maybe I could tether my horses to yours and let you ride on. I’ll hide here and wait ’til he shows himself.”
She fought the urge to draw her knees up into herself. She felt safe with Samuel, but if there was another white man lurking out there, who knew what evil he intended. She forced herself to nod. “I can do that.” She had her gun and knife. If the man overcame Samuel and came after her, she’d do what she had to for protection.
That thought pressed hard on her chest. She didn’t want anything to happen to Samuel. He’d been so good to her, how could she leave him to fend for himself? But he was strong. Capable. He’d have the upper hand on whatever adversary skulked out there.
Still, she turned and found his gaze with her own. “Be careful. Please.”
He held her look as he nodded. “I will. Just look natural as you ride away, and I’ll take care of things here.” Then a line creased his brow. “Will it be too much to manage? The horses and Little Bit there?” He nodded toward Cherry.
She shook her head. “I can do it.” That was the least of her worries. With Cherry in a sling and the horses tethered appropriately, she’d be fine. The yearling had been staying close since his ordeal with the porcupine, so that made the job even easier.
Within a half hour, they were both sitting close to the fire, sipping warm stew, yet all the joy she’d anticipated from the meal was gone. Stolen away as she listened for any snap of a twig or rustle of a leaf.
“Is Little Bit staying warm enough?” Samuel nodded toward the baby cradled in her lap.
“I think so. I have her wrapped up so tightly, the cold can’t get through.” She adjusted the fur covering.
“Did you have any brothers or sisters?”
S
he jerked her gaze up to his face. He’d not asked such a personal question before. His head was cocked in relaxed curiosity.
He must have sensed her hesitation, for he spoke again. “I just mean to say, you’re a really good mother. It makes me think you had siblings you helped raise. My sister Noelle is like that. She half-raised my brothers and me, and she’s right at home with her own young’uns.”
His sister. She’d like to hear more about his family, but she owed him an answer to his question first.
“I have two half-brothers older, and two half-sisters younger.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have given so much detail, but she’d never been able to hide her past. The entire camp had known of the horrors of her conception.
If he was surprised by what she said, he didn’t show it. “Right in the middle, huh? Just like Noelle. I’m sure you were a lot of help with the little ones.”
She’d tried to be. It seemed like she’d always been trying to make up for her birth, the unspeakable things her father had done to her mother.
She forced the memories aside and turned her focus on him. “So, you have a brother and a sister?”
His mouth tugged into a wry grin. “Four brothers and four sisters. Seth, the one who’s marrying your sister-in-law, is my twin. There’s one brother younger than us, but all the rest are older.”
It took a moment for his words to sort themselves in her mind. “Nine of you?” His poor mother. “How many of you share the same father?”
His brows rose the tiniest bit. “All of us. Same saintly mother and same hardworking father.” He paused a moment, then his voice softened. “I didn’t appreciate them the way I should have before I left home. They’re good people.”
A wave of longing slipped through her. To have both parents throughout his life? She couldn’t imagine how wonderful that must be. Her mother had been the one constant in her life. Red Hawk, who’d fathered the rest of her siblings, had died before the youngest was even born, so she had only a few memories of him.
Of course, Grandfather had always been there. Grave and solid. And she’d never doubted his love for her. Not until he married her to Henry anyway, but even that had been better than she’d thought it would be.
Samuel breathed out a long sigh as he lowered his bowl to his lap. “That was even better today than last night. I must say, you’re an excellent cook, Mrs. Clark.”
Heat slid up her neck, warming her all the way through. She dipped her chin. “I’m glad you liked it.” Was she so starved for appreciation she now blushed like a maiden?
Yet kind words from this man felt different from others she’d received. The way he looked at her, the gentle way he spoke—they did funny things in her middle. A feeling she’d do best to ignore.
She straightened. “I guess it’s time to clean up, then put our plan into action.”
He nodded. “Guess so.” But he was slow to move. And a small part of her wondered if he hesitated because he enjoyed her company.
But that was a silly thought. One that would only bring her trouble.
Chapter Ten
“One more thing I did not expect.”
~ Moriah
SAMUEL’S GUT CLENCHED tightly as he watched Mrs. Clark ride away, the three horses trailing her mount. Was he sending her into danger?
He had no idea what he’d find as he waited here. He only knew he had to find out what trouble had been lurking about, watching them. The farther they traveled today, the more certain his instincts had become. And twice, he’d thought he’d seen the outline of a dark head rise above the line of grass behind them, then duck down again. Someone was purposely staying just out of sight to avoid discovery. He couldn’t imagine why a man would go through that much effort, unless his plans were sinister.
Lord, don’t let him realize Mrs. Clark is riding away alone. He was counting on the trees to shield her from clear view.
Forcing his gaze away from the solitary form of the woman, he scanned the landscape behind them. He’d positioned himself in the fork of a tree trunk, about a stride up from the ground, where he’d have enough height to see the stranger clearly. There were enough leafless branches that he and his rifle would blend into the landscape, as long as he didn’t move. Even then, a man wouldn’t be able to make him out from a distance.
Within ten minutes, Samuel’s foot had gone to sleep where it pressed into the narrow joint of the trunk. He’d been much more agile at climbing trees when he was a boy. He shifted his footing, trying to work out a better position.
Then a movement in the distance caught his eye. A brown dot on the horizon, bouncing and growing as it moved closer.
A man on horseback? No, as the full body crested the hill, he could see it was only a man. Running.
He kept up a steady jog, coming over the path they’d traveled less than an hour ago. His buckskins almost blended with the brown winter grass, and the stranger moved lithely, as though he could keep up that run for miles.
Who was he? And why on foot? They were days away from Fort Hamilton, but it was possible he lived somewhere in this area. Had he been following them since the night before? And why?
Minutes passed as the man neared, keeping up that steady jog.
Samuel tightened his grip on his rifle as the imposter reached the trees in the exact place they’d built their warming fire. He paused, propping his hands at his waist as his shoulders rose and fell with his deep breathing. Then he stared off into the distance, and Samuel followed his gaze.
Mrs. Clark and the horses were still in sight, mounting a gentle hill that would soon shelter them from this man’s sight. It was plain to see only one person was riding away. Samuel’s gut tightened as he shifted his focus back to the stranger.
The man was gone.
Samuel tightened his grip on his rifle and positioned it to fire, should he need to. The fellow must have slipped behind a tree. Maybe he’d noticed only one figure rode atop the distant horses.
He strained to see between the shifting branches, searching for the light brown of the man’s buckskins.
There. Wasn’t that him? The sliver of brown beside the tree disappeared, but that must have been his arm.
Samuel had to take control of the situation before he lost the stalker. He was in a vulnerable position up in the tree, though. He needed to get to the ground without the man pulling a gun on him. Why had he thought this was a good position?
Easing down, he worked to stay completely soundless. The fellow must have seen him to know how to remain hidden behind the tree, but Samuel still didn’t want to give away his movements.
When he had both feet on the ground, he aimed his rifle squarely at the tree where the man was hiding. “I have a rifle aimed at you. Come out from behind that tree and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Silence fell over the area. A deep quiet that tightened the knot in his gut. Would the stranger obey or try to make a run for it? If he ran, Samuel would have to stop him. The obvious threat couldn’t be left to haunt them. He would aim for a leg or something that wouldn’t be life-threatening, but would stop the fellow.
He deepened his voice to a menacing tone. “This is your last chance to step out peacefully before I start shooting.”
Let him step out, Lord. His stomach churned as he aimed down the barrel.
A flash of brown appeared at the edge of the tree. Samuel tensed. Not a flash, a slow, solid movement.
The arm shifted to reveal the rest of the body, and the man stepped fully into view. Samuel tensed, keeping his aim as he took in the stranger.
Dark features, lean body. Very lean. He was clad in buckskins with a rifle slung over his shoulder, held by a leather strap. Samuel’s gaze narrowed on his face.
He wasn’t much more than a boy.
“Who are you?” Samuel barked.
The man-boy eyed him warily, a shock of black hair shadowing his eyes. His skin wasn’t dark enough to be full Indian, but he certainly looked like he might have some of that blood running
through him.
Like Mrs. Clark. The thought jolted through him. Was this boy related to her? Was that why he’d been following?
“Who are you?” He softened his tone just a little, keeping enough steel to hopefully stop the lad from attempting to run. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to shoot a boy who looked to be just old enough for his voice to have deepened.
He couldn’t let him get away without answers, though. And did he even understand English? If he’d been raised with the natives, maybe not.
The lad raised his chin. “I am Matisse.”
A bit of the tension eased from Samuel’s chest. The lad understood and wasn’t refusing to speak. “And why have you been following us, Matisse?”
The boy eyed him, not giving a hint of what he might be thinking behind that dark gaze. Then finally, he spoke again. “I don’t follow. I go to the same place as you.”
His words had a slight accent. Just barely there. Almost like the lilting flow of Mrs. Clark’s speech. Was he part of the same band of Peigan? “Where is it you’re going exactly?”
“To my people.”
“Which people?”
The boy raised his chin again. “Those who gave me life.”
This was getting them nowhere. Samuel leveled him with a gaze that he hoped would make the boy squirm until the truth slipped out. “You say you weren’t following, but I’ve felt your presence with us for a while now, yet you never showed yourself. Why did you hide?”
The boy eyed him with a glare, not saying a word.
Samuel allowed the silence to stretch out. Let the lad feel the weight of it so maybe he’d break down and answer.
What were they going to do with him? Samuel was no longer as worried about the danger this scrawny overgrown lad would provide, but he’d feel much better if he could keep an eye on Matisse instead of turning him loose to follow and snoop again.
This Daring Journey Page 7
