Forgotten Trails (Paradise Valley Book 5)

by Vivi Holt

  Lotte heard the animals before she saw them. Jan grazed lazily, and her little foal lay by her hooves, its head tucked against the ground and its side rising and falling with each deep, sleep-laden breath. “There you are, my girls,” she whispered, stroking Jan’s head.

  The horse sniffed her hands, still chewing on a mouthful of grass.

  “Yes, you greedy thing, I brought you some carrot.” Lotte laughed and held out the carrot shavings. The mare picked them up from the palm of her hand, lips fumbling against Lotte’s skin. It tickled and made her laugh again.

  The horse nosed her skirts and made her stumble backward. “Now, now – I don’t have anything else for you. And there’s plenty of grass still here to graze on. I’m sure Marcus will move your stake in the morning. Would you like me to see if I can find you some tender shoots down by the creek?”

  Jan returned to her grazing, having determined that Lotte’s pockets didn’t contain anything more of interest, but Lotte wandered toward the creek anyway. The chatter of cold water over smooth rocks always soothed her thoughts. She’d grown up close to a creek, and as a girl had loved to sit by its shores and think about everything on her mind.

  When her troubles seemed too big for her to manage, she’d lay back on the bank, her head resting on her hands, and stare up at the sky as the sound of water running and bubbling over the stones soothed her nerves and calmed her thoughts. Her mind would empty itself of everything save the beauty of nature and the emptiness of the sky above her.

  She sat now and tucked her skirts under her legs, then rested her head on her knees. With a sigh, she thought about the journey they’d taken, the hardships, the worries, the illness – everything they’d overcome. Then her thoughts turned to the future and the work that lay ahead of them. She sighed and plucked blades of grass, rolling them into balls between her fingertips.

  What would happen to them? They’d sold everything, given up their home, their loved ones, everything they knew to start a new life in the middle of nowhere. She glanced around – Texas was like a desert compared to home. Could anyone survive in a place like this?

  The snap of twigs startled her. Her head jerked up and she listened, wide-eyed. She still hadn’t gotten used to the nighttime sounds – there were so many creatures out here she’d never heard of before that could tear a person apart. At least, that’s what people in the wagon trains they’d traveled with had told her.

  She sniffed. Was that smoke? She leaped to her feet and stood on tiptoe to stare back toward the house. A grove of elm and oak trees stood between her and the cabin, but above the grove she saw the glow of red and orange.

  The cabin was on fire!

  Her heart leaped into her throat as she broke into a run. As she drew nearer she heard a yelp, followed by another, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She scrambled between the trees, a low branch leaving a scratch across one cheek. She stubbed her toe on a rock and stumbled forward, landing hard on the ground, hands first, at the edge of the grove. She scrambled onto her hands and knees behind an oak.

  With horror, she saw the cabin ablaze and Comanche warriors riding around it on painted ponies, their voices raised as they yelped and cried out in victory. In the open doorway, she saw Marcus lying face down, an arrow protruding from the center of his back.

  Her hands flew to cover her mouth as she gasped. She bit the palm of her hand to keep from crying out and scooted back further behind the tree trunk. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed silently. She pulled her skirts up over her face, not wanting to see any more, and cried into the fabric of her skirt.

  The noise of the fire, crackling and snapping as it destroyed their home, rang in her ears, along with the shouts and laughter of their attackers. She pressed herself against the trunk of the tree, willing herself to disappear. She knew what would happen if they found her – she’d heard the stories.

  Several Indians dismounted and strode around the clearing as if searching for something. She shivered, eyes wide, and slowed her breathing as best she could, her cheeks still wet with tears. They found the horses and burro, shouted with delight, and she moaned inwardly. They were all she had left – and now they would be taken too!

  Within minutes the Comanches were gone, the trotting of their ponies’ hooves on the hard ground fading until only the crackle of the fire and the cry of an owl overhead interrupted the night’s silence. Lotte let herself cry then, big heaving sobs that wracked her body as she laid her head down against the tree roots. She cried until she could cry no more, then let sleep take her so she didn’t have to face the pain any longer.

  The call of a blue jay woke Lotte the next morning. Her eyes flicked open and she glanced around slowly, then lifted her head from the tree root and massaged her jaw with a frown. Why had she slept on the tree that way? Surely she could’ve found a more comfortable bed. And where were the others?

  She glanced around, saw the cabin … and memories of the previous evening came crashing in on her like a wave in a storm. “Marcus!” she cried as she jumped to her feet. She ran to the cabin, stopping short when she saw his charred remains. The arrow stood straight and tall in his back, blackened by the flames along with his body. Only the bottom two logs remained around the cabin’s circumference, and they were charred and broken as well. The bottom of the chimney had burned, but the top, built so carefully by Marcus’ loving hands, leaned to one side.

  With a great sob, she slumped to her knees beside her husband and laid a hand on his back. It didn’t feel like him, and she pulled it back with a start and cried out.

  When she finally stood again, she crept through the doorway. Embers still glowed all over the dirt floor and smoke wafted skyward here and there. Their belongings, once stacked so neatly against the wall, now lay in blackened piles. On the new bed, Oom Gust lay behind Tante Annika, his arm resting protectively over her ample waist.

  Lotte lowered her head into her hands and wept. She gulped a mouthful of air and searched her pockets for a handkerchief. When she found it, she blew her nose loudly.

  A sudden thought startled her: what if the Comanches came back? Her heart pounded. Surely they wouldn’t – they’d destroyed everyone and everything, so there was no need for them to. Was there? But perhaps they were on their way to somewhere else and would pass by after finishing whatever else they were doing. She couldn’t take that chance.

  She sniffled into her handkerchief again and thrust it back into her pocket, then went to the pile of burned things they’d carried with them all the way from the Netherlands and New York. Quickly she rifled through the clothing and kitchenware, found the purse Annika kept hidden among her undergarments and stuffed it in her own skirt pockets. It was still mostly intact, and Annika wouldn’t be needing it again.

  The provisions bag was ruined, but she managed to rescue some pots, pans and other utensils from it, wrapping them in a half-burnt skirt from her own carpetbag. The carpetbag had mostly survived, beneath Marcus’s bag and a wool blanket – one handle was ruined, but she could carry it with the other. She packed everything still usable into it. Returning to the door, she knelt over Marcus and sobbed a final goodbye, then reached beneath him and pulled out his pocket watch. She held it to her cheek as tears continued to fall, kissed it and tucked it into her bodice.

  Finally Lotte sniffled and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. Then stood and ran, the singed carpetbag in one hand, the skirt-turned-bindle in the other, tapping out rhythms against her legs with each stride.

  Keep reading…

  Also by Vivi Holt

  Cowboys & Debutantes (Historical)

  Della

  Hattie

  Pearl

  Cowboys & Debutantes (Contemporary)

  Dalton

  Eamon

  Parker

  Paradise Valley *

  Of Peaks and Prairies *

  Winds of Paradise *

  Lost in Laredo *

  Cheyenne Reckoning

  Forg
otten Trails

  * Available in e-book, paperback and audio book

  Cutter’s Creek

  The Strong One

  The Betrothed

  Cherished

  Season of Love

  Captivated

  Beguiled

  Orphan Brides Go West

  Mail Order Bride: Christy

  Mail Order Bride: Ramona

  Mail Order Bride: Katie

  Mail Order Bride: Holly

  Visit my website at www.viviholt.com for an updated list of my books

  About the Author

  Vivi Holt was born in Australia. She grew up in the country, where she spent her youth riding horses at Pony Club, and adventuring through the fields and rivers around the farm. Her father was a builder, turned saddler, and her mother a nurse, who stayed home to raise their four children.

  After graduating from a degree in International Relations, Vivi moved to Atlanta, Georgia to work for a year. It was there that she met her husband, and they were married three years later. She spent seven years living in Atlanta and travelled to various parts of the United States during that time, falling in love with the beauty of that immense country and the American people.

  Vivi also studied for a Bachelor of Information Technology, and worked in the field ever since until becoming a full-time writer in 2016. She now lives in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three small children. Married to a Baptist pastor, she is very active in her local church.

  Follow Vivi Holt

  www.viviholt.com

  vivi@viviholt.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Vivi Holt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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