Cora's Pride (Wilderness Brides Book 1)

by Peggy L Henderson

  “I’ll be damned.” He rubbed at his chin. The damp grass was trampled by hooves and people in places, and the marks of wagon ruts were easy to see. Had they managed to fix the broken wheel?

  Nathaniel grinned. He laughed and rubbed at the back of his head. His respect and admiration for Cora Miller had just jumped up another notch. She must have packed up her family mighty early to be gone from here already. That didn’t put her out of danger, though.

  He studied the tracks on the ground. A blind man could follow the ruts left behind by the wagon. Judging by the way the grasses hadn’t recovered from being trampled, they didn’t have much of a head start on him. At least she was headed in the right direction, if she meant to reach Fort Hall. Apparently she’d been paying attention to him.

  Nathaniel sucked in a deep breath, then followed the wagon ruts. Hoof prints led away from the wagon, only to meet up with it a short distance further ahead, a clear indication that someone was riding the horse. Most certainly it was Cora, keeping an eye on her surroundings while the wagon rolled through the hills. His insides heated, the sensation unexpected, just thinking about her. He shook his head and broke into an easy run.

  Not an hour later, the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the hills. A nearby flock of ravens took to the air, their hoarse caws in loud protest to the disruption of the quiet morning.

  “What the hell is she doing now?” he muttered under his breath while lengthening his strides.

  It didn’t take long to catch up with the wagon. The scene before him sent a jolt of dread straight through him. The wagon had stopped, surrounded by a dozen warriors. At least these Indians weren’t Crow. He slowed his stride and made no effort to conceal his approach. His lips twitched in a smile as he drew closer.

  Cora sat on her gray saddle horse, her voice loud and insistent as she spoke to one of the Indians. The man spoke back in his own language, shaking his head and holding up her rifle. The woman sure had gumption, but she was going to be in a heap of trouble if she had wounded or killed one of those Indians.

  The warrior who argued with Cora saw him approach first. He abruptly broke off talking to her and guided his horse toward him. Several of the others followed. A wide smile spread across the Indian’s face and he started to laugh. Nathaniel grinned broadly as he walked up to the man on horseback, holding out his hand. The warrior clasped it in his.

  “Nathaniel Wilder, where is your horse?” the man asked in the language of the Shoshone. “And why do you walk behind a white man’s wagon full of women?” His smile widened, then broke out in full laughter. Several of the other men joined him.

  Nathaniel shot a quick glance toward Cora, whose wide eyes were fixed on him. She didn’t look happy to see him at all. In fact, she looked rather annoyed and her glare intensified when the warriors’ laughter grew louder. Good thing these Shoshone didn’t speak English, to the best of his knowledge. If any of them did, they didn’t understand much. There was no telling what she might have already said to them. Most likely something insulting.

  He returned his attention to the Indian. “Greetings, Proud Elk. It has been many moons since we last met. Harley will be glad to hear news of you.”

  “Tell the old white trapper that we are well,” Proud Elk replied as his face sobered. He glanced over his shoulder at Cora. “I ask again, why are you without your horse?”

  Nathaniel rubbed at the back of his neck. “I lost my horse and supplies while escaping a war party of Crow a few days ago.” He darted another glance at Cora, then smiled at the Shoshone. “I have angered my woman and she makes me walk behind as punishment.”

  The men all laughed again. Nathaniel forced his face to remain contrite. The Shoshone chief handed him the rifle he’d taken from Cora. How had Proud Elk managed to get the rifle from her in the first place?

  “That’s my rifle,” she called, her eyes blazing in anger. Nathaniel ignored her outburst and accepted the weapon from the Indian. The warrior leaned forward over his horse’s withers, a sympathetic smile on his face.

  “Harley has raised you and your brothers to be strong warriors, but it seems you still have much to learn about the ways of women. A man must be strong and stand up for himself, or he will never find peace in his own tipi. Be a leader to your women, or they won’t respect you as a warrior.”

  Nathaniel nodded, keeping a straight face. “I hear your words, and will follow your advice.”

  The warrior nodded. “I believe we have found your horses.” He motioned to one of his men, who disappeared between a stand of trees, only to return shortly with two horses. Nathaniel’s horses. He rode up and handed the reins to Nathaniel. “They walked into our camp last night.”

  “I won’t forget this,” Nathaniel said. Although he might have to bear the taunts from his brothers later when word got out that he’d lost his horses, this was far better than having to go look for them, or steal them back from the Crow.

  The older warrior nodded. His lips twitched. “Harley has saved the life of my brother once, and has been good to my people. His sons are following in his footsteps. Take your horses, Nathaniel Wilder, and lead your women, especially that one.” He nudged his chin toward Cora. “A woman who shows no fear and has much spirit can be good for a young warrior’s heart and body, but you must guide her with a firm hand.” He held up a fist for emphasis. “I trust you will not be walking in shame behind her any longer.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. He suppressed a grin. “I think I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, checking his horse’s saddle and gear. He held Cora’s rifle, and checked that his own was still in the scabbard.

  “Tell Harley I send greetings.” With those words, Proud Elk held up his hand and nudged his horse forward. His warriors followed. “If there are Crow in the area, we will find them,” he added before he galloped away.

  Nathaniel adjusted the sacks of supplies that hung from his pack horse’s back. Nothing seemed to be missing, but he’d have to unload his animal soon and give the horse some relief. For now, redistributing the weight of the load would have to do. He patted the animal’s neck, then mounted his saddle horse and rode toward the wagon.

  The boy’s head poked out from the back, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “You chased the Indians away,” he called.

  Nathaniel rode up to the back of the wagon, catching a glimpse of two girls hidden in the shadows of the canvas.

  “No, they left on their own.”

  “I’d like my rifle back, and then you can be on your way, too.”

  Nathaniel’s head drifted to Cora, who stared at him with ice in her eyes. She rode up to him and held out her hand.

  “Cora,” someone hissed from the front of the wagon. No doubt it was the other woman, Anna.

  Cora snapped a hasty look at the wagon, then back at Nathaniel. “I told you not to follow me.”

  “Well, you should be glad that I did, or you might be on your way to Proud Elk’s Shoshone village as his guest,” Nathaniel shot back. At least she could be a little grateful.

  “Were they the ones you warned me about yesterday?” she demanded. “Didn’t look like they were all that hostile toward you.”

  Nathaniel guided his horse closer to her. His saddle creaked when he leaned toward her. “Lady, I just told you those were Shoshone. If they had been Crow, you and the rest of your family would be dead right now. Shoshone are a lot more hospitable, but they still don’t like getting shot at.”

  Her stare wavered for a second, then she raised her chin. “What did that Indian say to you?”

  Nathaniel broke out in a smile. If he told her everything, she was liable to pull out her claws and scratch his eyes out. “Proud Elk admired your fearlessness and your spirit.”

  She frowned. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Why were they laughing?”

  Nathaniel rubbed at his chin to conceal his grin. “Because they thought it was funny that I was being punished by you and made to walk behind your wagon. They felt sorry for me, from one
man to another.”

  He almost regretted his next action. Holding out his hand, he offered her the rifle. Cora’s eyes softened in surprise, but the look disappeared almost instantly. He’d have missed it completely had he blinked.

  “I’m not your enemy, Cora Miller,” he said under his breath, quiet enough so that only she could hear.

  Cora snatched her rifle from his hand. “I don’t know what you are, but I have to be careful and look out for my family.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. Who had put so much mistrust and hurt in her? If she continued to be this stubborn, she wasn’t going to live long.

  “I’m trying to help you, Cora,” he tried again.

  “I don’t see why you’d want to do that, Mr. Wilder. I’ve brought my family this far, I will get them to Fort Hall, too.”

  “And then what?” He threw his hand in the air. His voice rose to match his growing frustration. “Then what are you going to do? The last wagon train passed through a couple of weeks ago. There won’t be many more this year. It’s getting late enough in the season that you’re going to run into snow further west in the mountains. You won’t stand a chance on your own.”

  Cora glared at him, determination and desperation in her eyes. She reined her horse away from him.

  “Let’s get moving, Anna,” she called.

  “Is Mr. Wilder joining us?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Nathaniel shook his head and cursed silently. He clenched his jaw to keep from shouting out to her what a stubborn and foolhardy woman she was. The look in her eyes before she turned away was puzzling. She’d looked scared, confused, and vulnerable, but it hadn’t been because of his warning about snow or that she couldn’t go on alone without help. She was scared of him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  N athaniel added a few more pieces of wood to his small campfire. He pulled the sage grouse he’d snared earlier off the spit, then sank to his haunches and leaned against a tree trunk. In the distance, the faint, high-pitched sound of a woman laughing came from one direction, which was quickly answered by the yapping of several coyotes in the nearby hills.

  His body tensed as irritation surged through him. He tore a leg from the roasted bird with more force than necessary, and bit into the meat. If he strained his eyes, the glow of the women’s campfire became visible through the trees. Pulling his blanket over his shoulders, he stared into the low-burning flames before him.

  “I hope that fool woman figures out to keep that fire low,” he grumbled under his breath. “They’re already making too much noise.” One of his horses snorted somewhere behind him, as if in agreement.

  Two days had passed since the incident with the Shoshone. While he still kept a watchful eye and ear out for Crow, he was reasonably sure that Proud Elk and his warriors had chased their enemies back to their tipis, doing him a favor in the process.

  Nathaniel had stayed back when Cora had told him not to follow her and her wagon again. He’d scoffed at her request . . . once her back was to him and she was riding away. He had his horses and supplies again. There was nothing stopping him from heading home. He chewed his meat more vigorously. He couldn’t head home. Not until he saw the women safely to Fort Hall, no matter how much Cora resisted his help.

  Then what?

  No wagon master in his right mind would allow a wagon full of women and children to tag along. How Cora had managed to get this far was remarkable. She might be stubborn, but so was he. She might be able to keep him out of her camp, but she sure as hell couldn’t stop him from tailing her all the way to Fort Hall and beyond, if he had to. Someone had to look out for them.

  That’s exactly what Harley had done after the old trapper took Nathaniel and his brothers away from their burning wagon to live with him. Trying to teach four farm boys how to survive in the wilderness, Harley had left them in the middle of nowhere, and told them to find their way back to his cabin. Not until years later had their mentor admitted to them that he’d been following them the entire week while they were lost.

  “Made men outta ya, didn’t it?” he’d said with a laugh. “Would have wounded yore pride if ya had knowed I was there, watchin’ ya the entire time. Taught ya some valuable lessons, too, bein’ on yore own.”

  Nathaniel’s mind was made up. Without wounding Cora’s pride, he’d look out for her and she didn’t need to know about it. He shifted on his haunches. Although he’d had his blankets for warmth, he’d spent another sleepless night under the stars last night. Thoughts and images of Cora Miller wouldn’t leave him be.

  If only she wasn’t so damn mule-headed and would at least talk to him without getting her back up. The apprehension he’d read in her eyes just before she rode off bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why the fear and mistrust in her eyes when she looked at him? Everything he’d done so far was to protect that woman, and she’d acted as if he were the enemy intent to do her harm.

  Someone laughed again. Nathaniel sprang to his feet, tossing the bones of his supper into the fire. He kicked dirt over the flames, grabbed his rifle, and marched in the direction of the noise. He was a good half-mile away from where the women were camped, but if he could hear them from that far away, then so could anyone else in the area. They’d kept a quiet camp the previous night, but apparently saw no need for it tonight. Time to put a stop to their foolish and careless behavior.

  Nathaniel kept to the trees this time rather than approach Cora’s camp in plain sight. It was a dark, moonless night, and she or anyone else would only see him if he stepped within the reach of the light from their fire. Best to assess the camp first before he made his presence known, if at all. He wouldn’t put it past Cora to shoot first and ask questions later if she noticed someone hovering nearby.

  “Get ready for bed, Patrick,” Cora called from where she sat on a tree stump by the campfire. The boy stood in the shadows with the horse, holding something to the animal’s mouth.

  “I ain’t tired,” Patrick shot back.

  “You will be in the morning, when I wake you before dawn.”

  Nathaniel smiled. She sounded a lot like his mother when he’d refused to listen at that age. He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. Now was not a good time to think about his childhood. He forced his attention to the sounds coming from the camp. Cora’s two younger sisters mumbled in hushed tones.

  “Good night. I’m turning in,” one of them said. By the creaking sounds of the wagon, someone had climbed into the bed.

  “Aren’t you going to bed, Josie?” Cora’s voice was soft and filled with love and tenderness.

  An inexplicable rush of warmth flowed through Nathaniel’s veins at the sound of her voice. Every other time he’d heard her speak, she'd had her dander up and had sounded gruff or angry. He strained his ears and stepped slightly around the tree, consumed with need to hear her speak again.

  He’d already found out that she was soft and feminine when he’d pulled her from the mule the other day. The softness in her voice as she spoke to her sister, a tone she apparently concealed from anyone other than her family, matched his memories of her body as she had lain pinned beneath him. If she knew he was there, her walls would go up again. Nathaniel smiled. No doubt her hackles would be raised, too, and she’d chase him from camp with her rifle.

  “When will you teach me to shoot?”

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened at the question coming from the younger girl.

  “I told you, once we get to Fort Hall. I promise I’ll teach you to defend yourself, Josie.”

  The boy laughed. “Cora can’t even hit a deer from twenty paces. That’s why we had to eat beans and salt pork again tonight. I’m tired of eating the same old thing every day.”

  “Patrick Hudson,” Cora scolded. Even so, her voice maintained its softness. “Be grateful that you have food to fill your belly. And for your information, I didn’t even take a shot at the deer you’re referring to. It darted away before I had the chance.”

  “Well, you
didn’t hit Mr. Wilder either, and you did shoot at him.”

  “Would you have wanted me to shoot a person?” Her voice lowered.

  Nathaniel’s forehead scrunched. She’d called her brother by a different last name than Miller. Only two reasons came to mind. The boy wasn’t her full brother, or Cora was married. Something didn’t sit well in his gut with the second thought. If she’d been married, what had happened to her husband?

  “Go, get ready for bed,” Cora urged. Her sister headed for the wagon, while the boy disappeared from sight behind some bushes beyond the light from the fire.

  Nathaniel peered around the tree. He should make his presence known, despite his earlier thoughts of observing and protecting from a distance. What held him back? He grinned. With all their talk of shooting guns, someone was liable to hit him. The truth was, listening to Cora’s sweet voice kept him rooted to the spot.

  Cora sat next to Anna in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. There was a definite chill in the air. Maybe that’s why they had such a large fire going.

  Minutes passed as the two women sat in silence. The chorus of crickets grew loud around camp, while the fire crackled and popped.

  Cora spoke first, her voice hushed. “Patrick is getting to be at that age where he needs a man to teach him things.” She laughed quietly. “He’s right. I’m a terrible shot, but at least I can teach him to stand up for himself. I hope Josie and Caroline learn that, too.”

  “You’ve done well with raising him so far,” Anna encouraged. “I do agree that there are things he needs to learn that a man would be more suited to teach him. Shooting a gun is probably one of them.”

  Cora stared from the fire to her friend. Even from Nathaniel’s vantage point by the tree, it was obvious that she glared at Anna.

  “The only two men in his life left, remember?” Cora spat. There was no softness to her words this time. “What lessons has he learned from them?” Her voice cracked slightly. She leaned forward on the stump where she sat, and lowered her head. She cradled her face between her hands while her shoulders slumped forward.