“She’ll go with me. She’ll need to nurse.” The more she thought about it, the more this path felt right. She’d eat, gather enough firewood to last Samuel a full day and night, have him tell her the route, then ready her horse and leave.
Every minute mattered.
SAMUEL HAD NEVER FELT so helpless.
Moriah was right about him being half-blind. Maybe closer to full-blind. And that was the only reason he hadn’t already leapt on his horse and struck out to get help. But letting her and Cherry ride away into the snowy wilderness carrying barely enough food to last a day... How could he allow it? How could he stand it?
He gritted his teeth and pushed to his feet. She was gathering firewood, but the least he could do was ready the horse. He stood still for a moment to try to bring his vision into focus. What in the wild west had he done to make this happen? Was it an effect of the cold? Or maybe from that blinding sun when he’d been looking for Matisse the day before?
Only shadows and vague forms showed before him. He blinked, then tried to focus again. His head went light, and he threw his arms out to balance himself. Was Cherry still lying on the ground next to him? He couldn’t fall on top of her.
He stepped away from where she’d been the last time he saw her, then reached for a tree or something else he could use as a guide. What a useless bunch of bones he was. Could Moriah see him blundering through these few simple steps?
Maybe it was best she and the baby leave. For her to see him so helpless like this was humiliating. She was strong and brave and capable. Hadn’t she proved that by how long she’d lived with only herself and a newborn? She’d even given birth by herself—it was almost unfathomable.
Footsteps sounded behind him, a soft padding in the snow, then the clunk of branches settling against each other.
“That’s all the dry wood I could find,” she said, “but I think it’ll be enough to get you through to tomorrow morning. I should be back with help by then. And maybe your eyes will have healed some.” Her voice drew closer as she spoke, then her hand slipped into his.
He gripped her, clinging to the feel of her. Would this be the last time? God, no.
“Moriah.” His voice rasped with the fear he struggled to hold down. “We need to pray.”
He released the tree and reached for her other hand, and she took his willing. Holding her close, he raised his petitions to God—placing her and Cherry in the hands of the only One who had true control of their journey.
And if the burn in his throat was any indication, these tears still slipping from his eyes might now be real.
MORIAH DUCKED AGAINST the onslaught of blowing snow later that afternoon as she pushed the gelding onward through the white curtain pelting them. Samuel had insisted she ride his gelding, even though the horse had already traveled a great deal in the past night and day. Taking her mare would require allowing the yearling to tag along, and the less she had to worry about the better.
Even as tired as the horse was, she could still feel his unleashed power. Just as magnificent as his owner.
Cherry squirmed in the sling, more than weary of being so confined. And still feverish the last time Moriah checked her. Would they ever find a safe haven where they could all heal? The thought of a peaceful valley with a warm cabin, plenty of food, and people willing to help—people she didn’t have to fear—seemed like a dream that could never truly happen.
Maybe Samuel’s people were accepting of him, but would they open their doors to an Indian? Or worse, a mixed-blood? She wanted to curse the foul cur who’d fathered her, but she forced herself to cling to the prayer Samuel had prayed before she mounted the horse.
This God she wanted so badly to trust...would He see her to safety? Please. It was the only prayer her exhausted heart could summon.
She forced herself to raise her face into the blowing snow. She had to watch for the mountain on her left with the ring of trees circling its base. That could describe half the mountains in this territory, but so far, each of the landmarks Samuel had given her showed exactly as he said they would.
Another half hour later, the snow still fell, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing as hard. The mountain she was watching for still hadn’t presented itself. She’d seen two other peaks, both with patches of scrawny trees scattered over their bases and sides, but not one with trees spanning in an unbroken ring around the base.
Had he said how far she’d need to travel to reach that mountain? He’d only given two more landmarks after that one, so surely she’d be close at that point.
Tension balled the knot tighter in her belly, whether from the thought of being lost or the thought of meeting strangers, she couldn’t have said.
Another hour passed, with no sign of the mountain. She’d had to stop and position Cherry for nursing, but then she’d pressed on, letting the babe eat and fall back to sleep as they rode. The roasted meat she’d brought for herself was long gone, and darkness was closing around them like a death shroud.
The falling snow was finally dying away, but the icy wind wouldn’t relent. The oppressive clouds blocked out any moon or stars, so the brightness of the snow was her only light. Would she be able to see the mountains in the darkness? Maybe she’d veered too far to the left to find the landmarks Samuel gave her.
God, help me. Please.
Time seemed to crawl by, and she couldn’t tell whether they’d been riding for minutes or hours. She must have missed the mountain. Should she turn back? Or turn to the right as she was supposed to do when she passed that landmark?
Samuel and Matisse needed her to bring help. She’d only left them enough wood to last until morning. If she found Samuel’s brother in the next hour and he was able to leave with her immediately, they’d be hard-pressed to reach Samuel and Matisse by the time their fire died.
Lord, let Samuel’s sight be better. He would be able to care for them both if he could only see. At least they had the rest of the meat he could cook as they needed it.
She reined the gelding to the right, mostly because continuing straight seemed futile when she’d surely passed the landmark without seeing it in the dark. And turning back seemed unthinkable, when every step to reach this far had been torturous.
A stretch of trees spanned along her left side, and she kept the horse moving beside them. Could these be the trees that circled the base of the mountain she’d been looking for? If so, the instructions called for her to ride past them before turning. But she still couldn’t see a peak rising up behind the tall pines.
Lord, show me. Guide us to the right place.
As they rode, a mountain rose up on her right, and the farther they traveled, the tighter the passage between the cliff and the trees narrowed. She’d be forced to ride into the woods soon.
Or maybe she should turn around? Oh, God. What do I do?
Cherry was squirming again in the sling, but she hadn’t started fussing yet. Moriah used her free hand to cradle the babe’s body. Maybe her touch would help soothe.
A thin strip of ground ran between the trees and the cliff, and she kept the gelding there. Could this be a path? Maybe a game trail. It seemed too much to hope that this stretch of ground might be ridden regularly by humans.
By Samuel’s family.
Without a wide stretch of white snow, the darkness closed in tighter and tighter. Maybe she should turn around.
A horse and rider appeared in front of her, about twenty strides ahead. Her heart surged into her throat, and she pulled the gelding to a stop.
Could this be one of Samuel’s family? If so, that must be God’s doing.
But it could be anyone. A trapper. An Indian.
She rested her hand on the butt of her rifle. Should she pull it onto her lap so she’d be ready to fire, or wait and try to keep the exchange friendly?
The stranger rode toward her, and she forced herself to sit stoically in the saddle. Not to cradle Cherry’s sling, which would alert the new arrival to her vulnerable child.
&n
bsp; The man approaching wore a fur hood, and the shadows made it impossible to see his face. But as he neared, the glimmer of a rifle barrel showed all too clear.
And it was pointed right at her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Help doesn’t look at all as I imagined it...or maybe it does.”
~ Moriah
MORIAH CLOSED HER HAND around her own gun and eased it upward, working the barrel out of the scabbard.
“Leave that rifle right where it’s at.” The voice dripped with deadly menace, but in a much higher pitch than she’d expected. Was this a woman?
Confidence flared inside her. She could face off with any female who came against her, even with a rifle aimed her way. Still, she stopped moving, holding the gun halfway out of its holder.
“Who are you? What’s your business here?” Definitely a woman, although she had the art of gruffness well-mastered. She reined in about two horse-lengths away.
Should Moriah tell her full story or hold back? If this was one of Samuel’s family, the stranger would need details before she would drop her guard.
She forced her voice to carry strength. “I am Moriah Clark. I’ve been traveling with Samuel Grant, but he’s injured and sent me ahead to find his family. Do you know the Grant family who live in a valley near here?”
Shadows still masked the woman’s face, but Moriah kept her gaze on the rifle. If this stranger knew Samuel’s family, she would lower the gun and greet her. Or at least be civil.
If anything, the grip on the rifle tightened.
Moriah held her tongue. Let this stranger explain herself now.
“How do you know Samuel Grant?”
Hope burgeoned inside her for the first time in hours. This woman must know him. Maybe she was part of his family and simply being protective.
“He came to find my husband, then offered to take me to my people in the mountains. When we couldn’t find them, we turned south to seek shelter with Samuel’s family.” She was so accustomed to keeping Henry’s death secret, she’d not mentioned it in her explanation. But that was a good thing. She’d hate for word of his passing to be shared callously with his sister.
“Who else is traveling with you?”
“I am alone right now.” Except for the baby, but she wouldn’t announce her presence yet. “A lad has been riding with us, but he’s badly injured. He and Samuel wait for me to bring back help.”
“Come with me then.” The woman lowered the gun and reined her horse to the side so Moriah could pass. She didn’t put the rifle away though, just rested it across her lap.
She obeyed, nudging the gelding forward. As she rode past the other woman, she tried to get a glance at her face, but saw nothing more than a pale cheek not hidden by the shadows.
Lord, let her be taking me to Rachel. Surely Henry’s sister would help her, even if Samuel’s people proved to be just as she feared—untrustworthy and unwilling to let a strange half-Indian into their midst.
“Turn on that trail into the woods.” The woman’s bark came just as they reached the place where she’d appeared a few minutes before. This must be the path back to her dwelling.
They rode through darkness, a night so black she could barely see the forms of trees around her. She had to trust the gelding to stay on the path and assume that the woman riding behind her would comment if they strayed too far in the wrong direction.
At last, they emerged from the trees. A hill rose just ahead of them. Not a mountain, but at least as tall as the cabin Henry had built her.
“Follow those tracks up and over.”
Moriah obeyed, aiming the gelding toward what looked to be a well-trodden path through the snow.
As they crested the top, a cabin appeared. Light shone through a glass window. Real glass. Something she’d only seen at the fort.
“Turn to the right toward that cabin in the distance.”
Moriah looked that direction, finally spotting another bit of light. This one outlined the shape of another building, with the light coming from the opposite side of the structure.
As she turned the gelding that way, Cherry began squirming again and let out a complaining whimper. Moriah rested her hand under the baby, patting to hopefully soothe her. This may be the valley Samuel spoke of, but until she determined whether the people meant her harm or help, her daughter would be much safer if they didn’t know about her. She’d seen and heard of horrible things done to women and children—the more helpless, the worse the treatment.
And she wouldn’t let any of that happen to Cherry.
They neared the cabin where the woman had directed, and Moriah rode around the building toward the light where the door must be. The glow was coming through a window—again, covered with real glass—and was bright enough to show another building across the yard. That one might be a barn, but it was hard to tell at night.
“Stop by the stairs.” The woman motioned toward the steps leading up onto the porch.
As Moriah complied, her captor raised her voice and called loud enough for those inside to hear. “Seth!”
Hadn’t Samuel said his brother’s name was Seth? The brother who would be marrying Rachel?
A scuffling noise inside preceded the opening of the door. A man stepped forward, lantern in one hand and rifle in the other, with shoulders wide enough to almost fill the frame.
Samuel. Her heart stuttered even as her mind told her this man couldn’t be him. The broad shoulders, every part of his outline was so similar. Could this be Samuel’s twin, Seth?
“Rachel?” He stepped onto the porch, raising the light as he studied them both. “Who is this? What’s wrong?”
“I found her riding alone on the other side of the trees beyond this hill.” The woman’s voice wasn’t nearly as terse when she spoke to Seth, but she still kept a no-nonsense tone. “She said she’s been traveling with Samuel and a boy, but she hasn’t said anything about my brother.”
My brother. This was Rachel? She didn’t seem at all like the loving big sister Henry had described. Maybe sharing more details would help these two realize who she was and that she was only here seeking help.
Moriah turned to face her. “Are you Rachel?” With the light from the lantern, she could finally see the woman’s face—and the way her pretty brows rose at the question.
“How do you know my name?” The question wasn’t tinged with challenge, as she would have expected, but simple curiosity.
“My husband, Henry—your brother—told me much about you. He read me your letters. We didn’t know you were planning to come to our land.” She softened her voice. “He would have loved to see you again, but he died over six months ago.”
The woman’s face shifted, losing its serious glare. The rifle in her hand wavered, then she seemed to tighten her grip. “How do you know that? And how can you be his wife? Henry never married.”
A stab pierced her chest. Hadn’t he told his sister about her? He’d written at least two letters to Rachel after they married. Why would he keep her a secret?
Unless he was ashamed... The thought pressed down on her like an avalanche.
He’d never seemed embarrassed of her in the fort. Had always championed her when the men grew rude and offensive. But maybe he’d not been able to bring himself to admit to his family that he’d married a Peigan woman. A half-blood.
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. Forced her shoulders to square and her chin to stay steady. “Henry and I have been married for two years. We have a child—a girl. I’m sorry if he was ashamed to tell you of me.”
The woman stared at her another minute, and even with the light from the lantern, Moriah couldn’t decipher any emotions that crossed her face. Perhaps shock, but she wasn’t certain.
Then with deliberate movements, she lowered the rifle, replaced the gun into its scabbard, and dismounted. Leaving her horse, she strode forward and stopped by Moriah, placing her hand on the gelding’s shoulder.
When she looked up, sha
dows hid half her face, but the visible eye was clearly focused on Moriah. “What did you say your name was?”
“Moriah Clark.”
“Your daughter...where is she?”
Moriah hesitated. Did she dare reveal the babe? Even as she pondered, Cherry gave a sharp squirm in the sling. Moriah pushed aside the buffalo robe covering her to reveal the little bundle. “She is here.”
A sharp intake of breath jerked Moriah’s focus back to the woman—to Rachel. “Come inside. Please. You both need to get out of this cold.”
Some of the tension eased out of her, but now the real work had come. “I can’t. Samuel and Matisse need help. They’re at the base of a mountain about a day’s ride from here. Matisse has bad breaks in his leg and arm and a high fever. Something happened to Samuel’s eyes and he can’t see. They have enough firewood and meat to last until morning, but they need help soon. Do you have a sleigh or wagon we can take to get them? Matisse is in a bad way.” Once she started, the words seemed to gush out of her. Had she said everything important? “They need blankets. And food.”
A movement on the porch pulled her attention from Rachel. Seth had turned away and was calling inside. “Simeon, Emma. We need help.”
Rachel touched her leg, drawing her gaze back down. “We’ll go get them, don’t worry. I’m sure Simeon can find them if you give directions. And he’s the best doctor around. Come inside and get warm. You must be hungry too.”
A new wave of relief seeped through her, stealing the strength from her shoulders. “Thank you. I’ll ride back with them. Do you think I can ride in the wagon? This gelding hasn’t had much rest in the last two days.”
“Climb down and we’ll talk inside. You have to warm yourself.”
Rachel was probably right. A few minutes by a fire would do her a world of good. And she needed to pull Cherry out of the sling and change her quickly before they set out.
After grabbing what she’d need from her pack, she dismounted and allowed Rachel to guide her up onto the porch.
This Daring Journey Page 16
