A quarter hour later, she’d taken the baby and finally coaxed Samuel into resting in the big chair nearest the fire when the door to one of the bedchambers opened. Out stepped a weary Simeon Grant, Daniel following.
Simeon’s sleeves were rolled, showing his massive forearms, but it was his face she studied longest. Daniel stepped past the taller man and strode toward the door, a pot in his hand.
“How is he?” Samuel rose to his feet, moving toward his oldest brother.
Simeon eased out a haggard breath. “Both were bad. I think the leg is a clean break, but that area swelled an awful lot. The arm bone had punctured the skin, and with the swelling there, it wasn’t easy setting the break. We’ll have to watch that one closely.”
“You think he’ll mend completely?”
Simeon placed a wad of bandages on the table. “If that arm doesn’t get infected, he should live. He may have a limp, and I’m not sure how straight the arm will be. If we can get the swelling down in the next day or two, I’ll be able to check the set of the bone.”
He should live. There was still a chance they might lose him? Not Matisse, who’d been a blessing every step of their journey. Lord, please make him live. “Is he awake?”
Simeon shook his head. “Not really. He lost consciousness when we set the arm. He’s just mumbling now. Emma and Noelle are both with him, and Daniel went to get snow to pack around the swelling. We’ve done everything we can right now. The girls will take turns with him through the night.”
“I’ll help.” She started forward, but Samuel snagged her arm.
“Why don’t you let them handle it just for tonight? You need rest. My sister lives to nurse people, so Matisse is in good hands.”
Simeon nodded. “He’s right. There’s another bed in the room he’s in, but you’ll never get sleep in there. You and the baby take our bed. I think the young’uns will stay at the other house with Rachel.”
Moriah wavered. She wasn’t about to put this man out of his bed. And it sounded like Rachel might have her hands full. Maybe she should be over there helping.
“Moriah.” Samuel’s thumb stroked her arm. “Do what Simeon says. Tomorrow we’ll start fresh, and there will be plenty to do. For now, everything is taken care of.”
Was it? It had been so long since she’d had this many people to share the load. Not since she’d left her family. It was hard to adjust when she wasn’t the only one to do what had to be done.
Samuel’s hand gently pushed her toward the door to the chamber where Cherry had napped earlier. It had clearly been the room belonging to the master and mistress of the place.
She glanced at Simeon. “I’ll just lay some blankets on the floor in here. I don’t need a mattress.” She’d never had one until after she married Henry.
Samuel’s hand shifted on her arm, and his other slipped around her back. “Come in here where Simeon said. This is the best place for you and Little Bit. If you need anything at all, I’ll be right out here by the fire.”
Simeon turned back toward the other chamber where Matisse lay. “Sleep well. I’ll send Emma in to see if you need anything.”
At the doorway, Samuel used his elbow to push open the door. “We’ll get you some hot stones to warm the bed. I’m sure Emma will bring a lantern. Anything else you need?”
She turned to face him, not quite ready to step into the dark room alone. “My pack is already in here from when I laid Cherry down.” The babe gurgled in her arms, as content as she’d been in a long time. Moriah searched his face. “Are you sure this is right?”
Something about the simple act of stepping into the bedchamber felt like a leap of faith. A faith she was still learning to understand.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Warm and achingly gentle. Then he drew back to look at her. “You’re one of us, too. And we take care of our own.” He touched her chin with his fingers, raising her face as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Samuel. Every bit of him strong and sure and just the man she needed.
When he pulled back, all the angst in her chest slipped away, leaving her feeling full and cherished. “Thank you.” She wished there was a better way to say what was building inside her.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “For what?”
She pressed a hand to his chest. “For being you.” Then she turned and walked into the bedchamber.
“THERE YOU GO. KEEP eating like that, and you’ll be up and walking soon.” Moriah helped Matisse take another sip of water, then replaced the cup on the bedside table. This was the third day since that awful night Simeon had set the broken limbs, and the boy’s normal color was finally returning to his ruddy face. “Anything else I can get you?”
He shook his head, then a glimmer of hope touched his tired eyes. “You can get me out of this bed.”
She couldn’t help reaching up to brush the hair from his brow. His face still had the angles of a growing youth—half-boy, half-man. But he’d proved his strength through the ordeal of the last week. “I’m proud of you, Matisse. I’m so glad God brought our paths together.” She had no doubt now that the Heavenly Father had orchestrated the entire trip.
He ducked his chin, lowering his black lashes. “Me, too.”
Best she not get too sappy with the boy, but she’d make sure she told him again later. He’d probably grown up feeling abandoned and struggling for every little thing he needed to survive. Yet he’d developed into a special young man, hard-working and good to his core—a son any mother would be proud to call her own.
It was high time someone told him so.
Pushing to her feet, she stepped toward the door. “Just call if you need anything.”
As she pulled the door shut behind her, his tired eyes were already drooping. Maybe from the willow tea they’d been pouring into him, or maybe because his body still needed so much energy to heal itself. At least his fever had finally faded.
When she turned and swept her gaze around the main room, her eyes caught on the figure in the rocking chair. Rather, the two figures.
Rachel sat with Cherry lying on her lap. The babe stared up at her aunt with wide eyes while Rachel sang to her. The woman’s face radiated with joy, making her even more beautiful than usual.
As the song came to a close, Rachel looked up at Moriah, the sweet smile still softening her face. “I think she likes to be sung to.”
Moriah stepped toward them, settling into the armchair beside Rachel. “She seems to like everything you do. Same as with Samuel. She gets excited as soon as she hears his voice.”
Rachel turned back to the babe and spoke in animated tones for the little one’s pleasure. “From what I’ve seen, the feeling is mutual.” Then she lifted her gaze to Moriah and used her regular voice. “He lights up when he sees this little one. When he sees you, too.”
Moriah ducked her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about what she felt for Samuel. Especially not with her deceased husband’s sister.
Maybe this was the time to say what she’d been wanting to tell Rachel since she arrived. “Rachel. I’m so sorry about Henry. More sorry than I can say. He was a good man.”
The smile slipped from Rachel’s face, and she looked at Cherry again, but her mind seemed far away. She was quiet for a while, only the rocking of the chair and an occasional baby coo filling the silence.
At last, she spoke. “I hadn’t seen him since I was first married. I still remember him as the sandy-haired little brother I was always trying to keep out of trouble. He was a good boy, though. As much as a little brother can be. I wish I’d seen him once more before he left for the west.” Her voice quivered and her eyes glistened. “I wish I’d come to find him sooner.”
Moriah’s chest ached, knowing well the pain of those wishes. She rested a hand on Rachel’s arm. “I’m sorry I was the one who brought Samuel to you and not Henry. If I could give him to you now, I would.”
Rachel looked up through the glimmer in her eyes. “I wouldn’t trade
my new sister and niece for anything.” She sniffed, a smile trying to shimmer through her tears. “I’ve always wanted a sister. Someone who would be my true friend.”
A longing rose up in Moriah, choking her throat with emotion. “Me, too.” Even with all her siblings, she’d felt like an outsider. Was it possible to find a place she truly belonged? A friend?
Rachel sniffed again. “I should apologize for greeting you at gunpoint. You must have been scared stiff.”
At least Moriah could smile about it now. She pulled her hand back to her lap and added a gentle note to her tone. “Samuel told me you have a habit of such welcomes.”
The woman looked down, but it didn’t hide the color flushing her cheeks. “He told you that, did he? Well, it’s a habit I’m trying to break. Or at least be more selective about.” She glanced up through her lashes to show a repentant look in her eyes.
“I’m only thankful you didn’t shoot me,” Moriah said, “and that you brought me here so I could get help. And that the others made it to Samuel and Matisse in time. And that we’re all on the mend.” Now it was her turn to blush. She could count her blessings for days and not list them all. Thank You ever so much, Lord.
Rachel touched Moriah’s arm, the contact stilling her. “Moriah, I’m so thankful Samuel found you and brought you here to us. I can see there’s something special growing between you, and I just wanted to say I’m glad.”
Moriah looked at the woman’s hand on her arm, not quite sure she could meet her eyes. How could Rachel say that? Didn’t she think Moriah should still be mourning Henry?
And maybe she should be. She’d always remember Henry as a good man and a kind husband. And he was Cherry’s father. She would see him in their daughter every time she looked at the babe. But her heart had never known what it felt like to love—truly love—and be offered that same gift in return.
Rachel squeezed her arm. “Love is a special thing. Not something to pass by when you find it.”
Moriah did meet her gaze then, and the certainty shimmering there eased the angst in her chest. She nodded. “Thank you...friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
”One thing yet remains...”
~ Samuel
A WEEK PASSED BEFORE Samuel could catch his breath. Moriah seemed to settle in a little more each day, and the way the women doted on little Cherry, he rarely had a moment alone with the little cherub.
Not that he’d been sitting around pining, since Seth was pushing to get his house finished. He and the other men had spent much of their daylight hours working on the cabin. In another day or two, it’d be ready for furniture.
Then the wedding.
His chest pinched at the thought. He and Seth had been together for everything throughout their entire lives. Now Seth was branching out on his own. Moving in a direction they couldn’t travel together, and the loss cut a raw edge somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.
Not that he begrudged his brother. Seth and Rachel were good together. They balanced one another, each making the other better. She’d accomplished something Samuel had never been able to.
But still, he would miss his brother. The one who’d been connected to him since before they were born.
He ambled across the yard outside Simeon’s cabin, heading toward the barn. Emma had said Moriah might be out checking her horses. Since this was the Sabbath, Seth had given them a reprieve from building, and he ached to spend it with the woman and child he loved.
Now, if only he could find them.
He pushed open the door enough to slide through, then slowed to let his eyes accustom to the dim lighting. He was still sensitive to changes in lighting, especially harsh sunlight. But thank the Lord his vision had fully returned.
A soft rustling sounded from one of the stalls, and he ambled forward to see if Moriah was the source. She was there, inside the pen with her mare and yearling. The colt stood tied to a wall as she ran a soft brush over his wooly winter coat.
The animal raised his head and nickered as Samuel approached the gate, and Moriah turned to look. A smile settled over her sweet face when she saw him, the kind of smile that warmed him from the inside out.
He leaned on the rail. “Porcupine wounds finally healed?”
She turned back to brush the colt’s neck. “Looks like it. I’m trying to spend more time with him so he’ll be gentle like his mama.” She reached to pat the mare, but a sadness seemed to slip over her face.
He swallowed. “I’m sorry we never found your other mare.” Daniel had searched the area before coming back with these two, but the tracks had no longer been visible. Who knew how far the horse had wandered and what it might have fallen prey to.
Her mouth pulled into a smile, but there was no joy in the look. “So am I. But at least we didn’t lose Matisse.”
Matisse would be a good change of topic. “I just left his room. He said he’s feeling good enough to get up and walk around, but you won’t allow it.”
She rolled her eyes. “He talks big, but he still has a lot of healing to do.” She reached for the colt’s halter and untied the strap, releasing the horse to walk around the stall. “I guess I’m done here.”
He opened the gate for her to slip out, then latched it behind her. “Where’s my Little Bit? I thought I’d find her strapped to your back.” He held out a hand, and she slipped hers into his. He wove their fingers together. The perfect fit.
“Sleeping. Emma promised to call when she wakes.”
The way Moriah tucked herself close to him made him wonder why he’d spent all week notching logs and framing doors instead of by this woman’s side.
“Does that mean you have time for a walk? There’s not much wind right now.” As much as he dreaded the thought, there was a conversation they needed to have. His conscience wouldn’t let him put if off much longer.
She studied his face for a moment, maybe hearing something in his tone that gave her pause. He tried to offer a casual smile as they stepped out of the barn.
“All right.” Her voice sounded unsure, but at least she’d agreed.
They walked for a few minutes in silence, the warm sun taking away a little of winter’s bite. Thankfully, the rays weren’t bright enough to make his eyes sting.
Moriah was the first to break the quiet. “Rachel said Seth plans to ask Father Bergeron to come next Sunday to marry them.”
That pang touched his chest again, but not so sharp as before. “That’s what I hear.” He could feel her gaze on him, but knew if he looked at her, she’d be able to read his thoughts.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Her gloved thumb stoked the back of his hand.
Apparently she could read his thoughts without seeing them in his eyes. He inhaled, then released a sigh. “Seth and I have always done things together. I guess I feel like I’m losing him.”
She was quiet for another few strides, then her voice seemed hesitant as she spoke. “Do you plan to build your own cabin here?”
His gut squeezed. Now was the time to make good on his promise. He inhaled a breath and looked at her. “I didn’t really have plans before, but I made you a promise I’ll still keep.”
She stopped walking and turned to meet his gaze, a glimpse of her old emotionless expression hovering on her face. “Which is?”
“I’ll find your people, Moriah. Just like I said I would. But there’s something I need to ask of you.”
“Yes?” Still no expression on her face. That couldn’t be good.
He squeezed her hand, gentling his voice and adding a note of pleading. “Stay here with my family until I come back. Don’t bring her on the trail again. Please. I promise I’ll search until I find them. I won’t give up. But I couldn’t stand it if something happened to either of you. I can’t protect you in the wilderness like I need to.” His chest ached as he waited for her response.
She looked away, into the distance, her mind somewhere far distant. Her throat worked, and he searched for some idea of her thoughts.
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At last, she turned to face him, and something in her eyes looked almost like the glimmer of tears. “And after you find my people, what will you do? Come back and take Cherry and me to live with them?”
What was she asking? Hadn’t that been her goal from the very beginning? He certainly didn’t want to send her and the baby away. In fact, if that’s where she wanted to live, he’d take up residence with her people, too.
A desperation welled up inside him, a feeling he’d been tamping down for a week now. Longer, really.
He took her other hand and faced her fully. It was time to tell everything, whether she was ready to hear it or not.
“Moriah, I haven’t said anything because I know it’s too soon. You’re probably still—I mean, I know you’re still grieving Henry. But I can’t keep this from you any longer. I don’t want there to be secrets or things unsaid between us.”
He kept on before he lost his nerve. “I love you, Moriah. And I can’t let you and Cherry ride away. I’ll find your people, and if that’s where you want to live, that’s where I want to be, too. By your side as your husband. Loving you both.” He raised one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss as he searched her eyes for some kind of response.
Her expression was unreadable for a long moment, and his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. Then her eyes turned glassy. Tears? Maybe he should have waited to say all this until she’d had more time to grow accustomed to this place, to him. More time to grieve. Seven months couldn’t be nearly long enough.
When she finally opened her mouth to speak, her lips parted for a long moment before words actually came out. He steeled himself, prepared his response. He would tell her they didn’t have to talk about this now. In a few months, when she was ready, they could discuss the future.
In the meantime, he could keep himself occupied riding the countryside searching for a missing band of Piegan.
This Daring Journey Page 18
