Cora's Pride (Wilderness Brides Book 1)

by Peggy L Henderson

  “Don’t you dare die on me, you hear?” she whispered as a tear dripped onto his shoulder and rolled down his arm.

  Nathaniel stirred. His eyes fluttered open and a faint smile passed over his face. “Wouldn’t want to do anything to make you mad,” he rasped, his words barely audible.

  His head turned slightly away from the mattress and his unfocused eyes looked up at her. “I’m sorry,” he added just as his eyes fell closed again.

  Cora leaned forward. She touched her trembling fingers to the thick stubble on his face.

  “What are you sorry for, you silly man? I’m the one who’s sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed. “For everything.”

  Nathaniel shifted. He moved his hand to rest on her lap. Cora’s eyes flew open. “You’re an amazing woman, Cora Wilder.” His words were labored and laced with pain. “Let me see the spark in your eyes.”

  Cora shook her head. He was babbling nonsense. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll be good as new in a while.”

  “You saved my life,” she breathed and leaned in closer.

  His faint smile was back. “I promised I’d always keep you safe.”

  Her chest tightened at his words. He’d kept all his promises. Warmth flowed through her, squeezing at her heart.

  “I love you, Nathaniel Wilder.” The tips of her fingers caressed his cheek and she leaned in lower to touch her lips to the corner of his mouth. Nathaniel groaned.

  “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that,” he rasped. “Kiss me again.”

  She had to strain her ears to even hear him. His eyes closed and his head relaxed into the pillow with a low moan, but the smile remained on his lips.

  Cora wiped at her face and sniffled. She pressed her lips to his cheek, but there was no response. She closed her eyes, imagining the way he’d kissed her a week ago. Why had she agreed to his foolish arrangement of a marriage in name only? And why was he so damned honorable?

  Cora lifted her head. “I want you to break your promise to me, Nathaniel.” She smiled, and wiped away fresh tears.

  She lifted the towel away from his gaping wound. Blood instantly trickled from the hole. The cloth in her hand was saturated enough that she could probably wring it out. Her head darted around until her eyes fell on a fresh piece of cloth. She grabbed it and pressed it against the wound.

  “Dammit, I need more linen,” she called heatedly. “Caroline, tear one of my petticoats to make some bandages.”

  Seconds later, her wide-eyed sister scrambled into the rig. She glanced toward Nathaniel and a gasp escaped her mouth. Averting her eyes, she reached into one of the trunks and pulled out a petticoat. She began ripping large strips from it, starting at the hem.

  “I was helping heat water. I thought you had it handled.”

  “I don’t have it handled.” Cora’s voice grew loud with frustration and fear. She punched at the trunk next to her and winced at the pain. “I don’t have anything handled.” She ran a trembling hand over her face, swiping back some hair that had come loose from her braid. If the bleeding didn’t stop, Nathaniel would die.

  Cora straightened and filled her lungs with a deep breath. He’d been there for her and saved her life too many times for her to fail him now. It was her turn to save him. The only way the bleeding would stop was if she sewed up the holes. She glanced at her sister who stared back at her with a stunned expression.

  “Put pressure on that wound so I can find my sewing kit.”

  The words had barely left her mouth, when the distinct sounds of hoofbeats reached her ear. Dread rushed through her, making her tremble all over again. Had the shooter returned?

  “Hold that towel to his wound.” She grabbed for Caroline’s hand and pressed it down on top of Nathaniel’s injury, then scrambled from the rig.

  Squinting into the late afternoon sun, her head darted around the camp. Anna pulled Patrick close to her, while Josie stood next to them, holding their rifle in her hands. Her sister shot Cora a fearful look.

  Two riders approached, slowing their horses from a gallop to a walk. Before the strangers reached the camp, Cora rushed to where she’d dropped Nathaniel’s rifle.

  The two stopped their horses a short distance away. Their eyes slowly roamed through the camp, lingered on Nathaniel’s horses, then rested on Cora.

  One of the riders raised his hand in greeting. “Howdy,” he called.

  She stepped forward, the rifle held high. Her eyes narrowed. These men looked vaguely familiar. They were both clad in buckskin britches and shirts, much like her husband. On closer scrutiny, the similarity to each other in their facial features was striking, as was their resemblance to Nathaniel.

  The young man who’d called out a greeting, and who couldn’t be more than a year older than Caroline, pointed at Nathaniel’s horses.

  “Are you the owner of those horses?”

  Cora swallowed. “Who’s asking?”

  The youth smirked and stepped from the saddle. Cora’s knees went weak as he strode toward her.

  “Travis Wilder, ma’am.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the other young man still sitting on his horse behind him. “That’s my brother, Trevor.”

  Cora expelled a loud sigh of relief. She lowered her rifle, and rushed up to him. “You’re Nathaniel’s brothers?”

  The youth cocked his head to the side, clearly surprised by her question. He assessed her through narrowed eyes.

  “Yes’m. Nate was supposed to bring back supplies for winter. He hasn’t come home yet,” he said slowly, still scrutinizing her. His gaze swept over the rest of the camp, resting on Anna, Josie, and Patrick.

  “Nathaniel’s been shot,” Cora blurted, unable to hold back a sob. “He’s in the wagon. I was trying to get the bleeding to stop when you rode up.”

  Travis Wilder’s face instantly turned serious. His brother jumped from his horse’s back and rushed to the wagon. Travis was right behind him, and Cora followed on their heels. Without stopping, the first youth, Trevor, leapt up onto the tailgate. Seconds later, he called out from inside the wagon.

  “Trav, I need some horsehair.”

  Travis sprinted back to his horse.

  “What are you doing?” Cora called into the wagon.

  “You got a needle?” Trevor asked from inside. The question was directed at Caroline, who still held the towel to Nathaniel’s back.

  “In my sewing kit.”

  “Let me have it.”

  Cora climbed up into the wagon after darting a quick glance at Anna and Josie, who stood by with wide eyes, clutching the rifle in front of her the way Nathaniel had taught her. Patrick looked at Cora, then at the young man who ran toward her. He reached up and handed her several long strands of hair from his horse’s tail.

  “You got any whiskey?” Trevor asked.

  “We don’t have any alcohol,” Caroline stammered.

  “We’ve boiled some water,” Cora chimed in and motioned for Anna to bring her the kettle. She handed Trevor the horsehair and set the kettle on one of the trunks. Could she trust him to doctor Nathaniel’s wound? He was so young.

  “Guess it’ll have to do.” Trevor dipped the hair in the scalding water, then quickly threaded the needle Caroline held out to him.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Cora inched her way into the wagon, squeezing between some sacks of flour and a trunk to get to Nathaniel.

  Trevor shrugged while focusing on his brother. “I’ve sewn up a bullet hole or two, but mostly wounds from arrows or stabbings. Learned real good from a healer up on the Yellowstone.”

  Cora shook her head. “Please, help him. Don’t let him die.”

  Trevor stared at her as if she’d sprouted another head. He studied her silently for a moment.

  “Nathaniel’s my husband,” Cora answered his silent question. His brows shot up instantly.

  Outside, Travis smirked. “Get him fixed up, Trev. I gotta hear it from Nate before I believe it.”

&n
bsp; Trevor peeled his eyes away from her and looked at Caroline. “Move that cloth so I can see what I’m looking at.”

  Caroline did as he asked. Blood immediately oozed out of the wound before Trevor stuck a finger into the gaping hole, eliciting a moan from Nathaniel. He squirmed and his face contorted into a grimace. Cora clenched her hand into a fist to stop from reaching out to the youth and yanking his hand away.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” She glared at Nathaniel’s brother. How could he be so callous?

  Trevor raised his eyes to her and grinned. “You’re really his wife?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

  “Yes, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you torture and kill him,” Cora huffed. “I would expect you to go about this without hurting him any more than he’s already suffering.”

  Trevor stared at her as if she were daft. “I was making sure the bullet was out.” He blinked and shook his head, then leaned over Nathaniel.

  “Nate, can you hear me?”

  A low groan was his answer.

  “Nathaniel?” Cora leaned forward, scooting closer. She slipped her hand in his. A weak squeeze was his response. “Hold on, Nathaniel. Your brother’s going to fix you up.”

  “I don’t think Nate needs to be coddled like that, ma’am.” Trevor shook his head again and gave a low chuckle, then looked at his brother. “This is gonna hurt, Nate. Are you ready?”

  Nathaniel nodded almost imperceptibly. His fingers curled tighter around Cora’s hand. Droplets of sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “Get it over with,” he grunted.

  “Hold on to me,” Cora whispered.

  He flinched, then stiffened when Trevor stuck the needle into his flesh, but he didn’t make a sound. Cora gently squeezed his hand and blinked back her tears. This was her fault. He’d been shot because of her.

  “Dab at the blood right here,” Trevor said to Caroline. She did what he asked, her eyes going from the young man in front of her to Nathaniel.

  Trevor worked quickly, pulling the thread through Nathaniel’s skin in the same way she would sew a tear in her dress. In no time, the wound was closed, and only a small trickle of blood seeped through the gaps. They rolled Nathaniel to his back and Trevor repeated the process on the bullet’s exit wound.

  When he was finished, Caroline handed him the bandage she’d torn from the petticoat.

  “I’ll do it.” Cora snatched the bandage from his hand. “I don’t want to feel completely useless,” she added in a more civil tone, offering a quick smile of gratitude. Trevor shrugged, but helped her raise Nathaniel off the mattress enough so that she could wrap the bandage around him.

  “He’ll be good as new in the morning,” Trevor predicted. He paused to smile at Caroline, then maneuvered his way out of the wagon.

  Caroline’s gaze followed the young man before she glanced at Cora. Even in the dim light, her rosy cheeks were obvious.

  “Do you need anything else, Cora?” she asked.

  “No.” Cora shook her head. “Perhaps you can help Anna and Josie start supper. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Caroline nodded and left the wagon.

  Cora covered Nathaniel with a blanket, then reached for his hand. His eyes were closed and his chest moved rhythmically up and down as he breathed. She smiled and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He was going to be all right. He had to be.

  Her legs had gone numb from sitting in the cramped space, but it didn’t matter. Warm sensations flowed through her as she sat and simply looked at her husband. She loved him. There was no longer any doubt in her mind.

  He stirred and opened his eyes. A smile passed over his face when he looked at her. Slowly, as if it pained him, he raised his arm and touched his fingers to her cheek. Cora leaned into his touch.

  “You’re going to be all right,” she whispered.

  “I told you I would be. Tell my brothers to behave themselves, or they’ll be answering to me.”

  She laughed softly. “Trevor’s sewing skills are better than mine, I’m afraid. I’m grateful that they showed up.” Her face sobered. “I feel safer, too. That shooter is still out there.”

  Nathaniel grimaced and his face turned hard. “And I’m sure I know who he is, too. He picked a fight with the wrong man.”

  Cora’s eyes widened. “Ted,” she whispered. She’d completely misjudged him in Independence. He’d looked and acted like a decent man. Never had it occurred to her that his greed would lead him to shoot someone.

  Nathaniel nodded. “He won’t get away with this. He almost killed you.”

  Cora stared down at him. “Me? You’re the one with a bullet wound. Another inch or so, and you’d have been shot dead.”

  A pained grin spread across his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you’re worried about me.” He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer. “You have the prettiest eyes, you know that? Full of spirit and fire. Don’t ever let that fire burn out, Cora.”

  Cora cleared her throat and straightened. Heat crept into her cheeks. Was he delirious? “I think you’re feverish, Nathaniel. Perhaps you need to get some sleep.”

  He shifted his torso and grimaced. His eyes drifted closed. “I love you, Cora,” he murmured, and his body relaxed.

  Cora stared at him. Her heart must have skipped a beat at his words, then pounded furiously against her ribs. Nathaniel loved her? She smiled, then lowered her head.

  “I love you, too, Nathaniel,” she whispered, and touched her lips to his.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  N athaniel opened his eyes. Faint light filtered through the canvas covering the wagon. He blinked to focus his vision and stirred. Shifting his torso, he flinched at the pain the movement elicited just below his right shoulder.

  “Damn,” he grumbled and swiped his hand across his face.

  His body tensed as he attempted to recall what had happened and why he was lying in the wagon. He’d stood by the creek where they’d made camp, talking to Cora, when he’d noticed the glint of a rifle over the rise across the creek. He’d pushed Cora out of the way just as the shooter had fired. There was no doubt in his mind about who had shot him. Ted must have followed them from Fort Hall. The man was more dangerous than Nathaniel had given him credit for.

  He frowned at the male voices drifting into the wagon from outside. He blinked again to bring the fuzzy pictures that swirled around in his head into clearer focus. His brother, Trevor had been there, leaning over him and telling him he was going to sew him up. His face mixed with Cora’s, which was etched with worry.

  At some point the fever had messed with him enough that his mind had conjured up the most unlikely thoughts and images. The soft touch of Cora’s hands against his face had been so real, the feeling still lingered. She’d bathed him in cool water when the fever had raged. She’d hovered over him, telling him to be strong and fight, and that she loved him. He shifted and grimaced again. His feverish mind had even conjured up the idea that she’d kissed him.

  He raised himself to a sitting position. Every bone and muscle in his body ached, nearly matching the dull throbbing in his side. How had he ended up in the wagon, and for how long had he lain here?

  Nathaniel crawled to the tailgate, squinting against the bright sunlight when he moved aside the canvas.

  “I will not hear another word about it, Travis Wilder.” Cora’s heated words drifted through the air from somewhere nearby. Nathaniel’s brows rose. Travis?

  “What’s the use staying in this camp any longer?” Travis’ familiar voice argued. “You’ve had us sitting here for the last three days. We could have been long home by now.”

  “You’re more than welcome to leave. We’re not breaking camp until Nathaniel is ready to travel. And even if he were better, it’s too late in the day to leave now.”

  “He was ready three days ago, and now we’ve wasted another day.”

  Both Cora and Travis raised their voices with each word they spo
ke. A wide smile passed over Nathaniel’s lips. So, he hadn’t dreamed that his brothers were here. What else from his vague memories had been real, and what was just a dream? The thought of Cora’s soft lips on his lingered in his mind.

  “He’s been lying in that wagon with a fever for the last three days,” Cora hissed. “Moving him would kill him.”

  Nathaniel pushed his way between the canvas flaps. He sat on the tailgate, then hopped to the ground, wincing at the pain that shot through his torso from the impact. He stood on unsteady legs for a moment. He’d never been this weak before in his life.

  He’d once taken an arrow to his lower back a few years ago, but he’d been up and about as soon as Lucas Walker had pulled it out. They’d been pursued that summer by a band of Blackfoot up along the Snake near the Teton Mountains. He’d have lost his life if he hadn’t gotten back on his horse and continued on.

  “Nate, you’ve finally decided to get up.”

  Nathaniel glanced to where Trevor sat by the fire next to Caroline. His little brother smiled as he stood and headed toward him. “Good thing you’re finally up. Those two over there are bound to kill each other. We’re all afraid to get too close to either one of them.” He chuckled and patted Nathaniel’s arm.

  “Trevor,” Nathaniel greeted. His voice was hoarse from lack of use. Josie sat with Anna, who rose to her feet, and Patrick came rushing up to him.

  “I knew you weren’t gonna die,” the boy beamed brightly. “Cora’s been fretting something awful.” Nathaniel held out his hand to prevent Patrick from throwing his arms around him.

  At that moment, Cora rushed toward him from where she’d stood arguing with Travis by the creek. Her eyes locked with his. She’d never looked more worried or distraught. Dark lines under her eyes marred her pretty face.

  “Nathaniel,” she breathed when she reached him. Her gaze drifted instantly to the bandage wrapped around his chest and her hand flew to his forehead. “Your fever’s broke.” Her shoulders visibly slumped with relief. “Can I get you something? Some water?” She didn’t wait for his answer. Reaching into the wagon, she produced a canteen. “I’ve been trying to get you to drink.”