Monti forced her mind to think back through the medical books she’d read through the years. Most had been on the workings of the heart and blood vessels. Many afflictions could cause difficulty breathing, she knew, but a heart not working at full capacity wouldn’t be able to carry the oxygen the body required.
That likely wasn’t the cause, but just in case, she ran her hand down the covers where they barely rose over the girl’s legs. “I’m going to look at your feet, Hollow Oak.” The child probably couldn’t understand her, but perhaps talking would keep her from being surprised at the action.
The girl gave a groggy “hmm” but seemed to be almost asleep, so Monti moved slowly as she pushed the covers back to reveal the lower part of her leg.
The sight there formed a knot in Monti’s midsection. Puffy ankles spread into swollen feet. Certainly not the way a four-year-old child’s feet should look.
She turned back to the squaw, meeting her somber gaze. The way the woman had pressed her fist against her heart, then made the sign of something breaking. Did she know the girl’s heart wasn’t working correctly? How could she? Only a few highly-focused internal physicians understood the workings of the heart and pulmonary system. And although they could often properly diagnose a patient based on the symptoms and other medical details, there was no way to treat most heart or arterial conditions.
She’d seen so many sketches, some even colored with oils to show proper coloring, she could practically imagine this sweet child’s internal pulmonary system as if it lay atop her skin. All the veins and arteries weaving through her body, working to feed blood, oxygen, and other nutrients to organs and limbs. Yet something in the region of her heart wasn’t working as God intended.
Monti replaced the covers on Hollow Oak’s legs and shifted to look at the child’s chest where her heart struggled even now. Lord, heal this child’s body, just as you healed Jairus’s daughter. Show me what I can do to help. Grant me wisdom, Father.
She scanned the recesses of her mind for something that might benefit the girl. None of the elixirs she’d read about in the medical journals would be available out here. It seemed she’d heard of some kind of pepper that, when ground, would increase blood flow. Perhaps there were other foods or herbs that could build up the nutrients and oxygen in the blood so the minimal amount the child’s heart was able to pump would provide the most help for the body. Not treating the cause of the problem, but hopefully making the wee one more comfortable. And possibly stemming further complications.
Monti stroked the girl’s hair one last time, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest easy, mon chou.”
The words seemed to pull a memory from Monti’s mind, stalling her before she straightened. For a small moment, she could hear another voice saying that same phrase. Calling to her, a voice from her past. The same gentle baritone in a rolling French cadence. Papa had spoken those words to her that last day. The evening when he’d tucked her into bed. He’d been breathing hard that night, also.
She’d begged for another story, one complete with lively accents told in a way only he could perform. He’d just begun a tale about a young French maiden when he gripped his left shoulder. His face had blanched white, and she’d tugged his hand.
“What’s wrong, Papa?”
He’d gurgled a noise. Trying to answer her. Trying to tease in the easy way he always did to set things to rights.
Still clutching his shoulder, he collapsed onto her bed.
“Papa, tell me what’s wrong. Papa, please.” No matter how much she begged, he couldn’t seem to speak to her.
At last, he turned to look at her, his eyes turning a dusky gray like those of an old man. She could see the love in them, the worry. Somehow she knew, in her five-year-old heart, she knew.
She’d lost him. Collapsing over his body, she sobbed and sobbed, clinging to her papa’s hand.
Until Mama arrived, took Monti into her arms. They cried together.
The memories had been stuffed down so long, reliving them now brought a new burn to Monti’s throat.
She turned away from Hollow Oak. This sweet girl wasn’t her papa. Monti tried to summon a smile for the mother. “I’m going to find the priest. We’ll get medicine for her.” She should touch the woman’s shoulder, squeeze her hand, somehow show the support of one woman reaching out to another. But she didn’t have the strength just now.
Reliving the memories had taken too much from her. And yet, she’d sworn all those years ago those memories would never steal from her again. That’s why she’d spent so much time learning about the human heart. Why she’d subscribed to the London Medical Journal since she was ten years old.
Never again would she be in a situation where she had to watch someone she loved die. Not if she had breath left to save them.
MONTI WASN’T READY when Joseph appeared on their doorstep the next morning.
She’d been up for two hours. Had fed the horses and the cluster of chickens Antoine kept in the lean-to. Made coffee, attempted biscuits, which she’d ended up feeding to the chickens, and scoured the floor. For some reason, her nerves were in a tizzy over today’s visit.
Antoine had left on his morning walk but had been gone long enough that she expected him back any minute.
And now she stared at Joseph as he stood at the cabin doorway. “Come in.” It was the only polite thing to say, but a part of her wanted to send him back on his merry way.
He held up a leather-wrapped bundle. "I brought breakfast. Hope you’re hungry.”
Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle in a most uncivilized manner. She tried to be discreet as she pressed a hand to her middle, but the damage had been done.
A twinkle shone from his eye, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It seems I’m just in time.”
She couldn’t help her own grin as she stepped aside and motioned toward the table. “Does this food come already cooked or are we allowed the honors?”
That grin tugged harder at his lips. “I wouldn’t deny you the pleasure. You should know me by now.” After setting the bundle on the table, he motioned toward it. “I’ll even let you open the gift.”
She had to smile at that. She stepped forward to do as he’d said. How much of that particular honor was due to the struggle he’d have unwrapping the package with only the fingers of his right hand?
He’d still not mentioned his injury. Not even hinted about it. The longer she waited to ask about it, the more sacred the subject seemed to be. Maybe today, since it seemed they’d be spending a fair amount of time together. Hopefully, the opportunity would present itself for her to ask in a natural way.
When she pulled the leather back, two raw chunks of meat stared up at her. Some kind of liquid pooled under the hunks, and a tangy odor wafted up to her. She wouldn’t quite say the contents smelled bitter, but the sight and stench were enough to make her stomach churn. “What are they?”
“I promised snowshoe hare. Now, there are plenty of ways to cook fresh meat. We could boil it, of course, and make a stew. But that takes time, and stew seems a waste for fresh meat, since it does such a good job covering up the flavor. We could roast it, but that takes even longer. Hare pie is always an option, but I think broiling might be the best for these. What say you?”
She tried to meet his gaze, but this new teasing side of Joseph had her a bit off-kilter. “I say, yes.”
He nodded, then pulled a knife from the sheath at his belt. “Cut the meat into strips about an inch thick while I ready the fire.”
He was a patient teacher, explaining how important it was for the flames to be smokeless, which was best accomplished when the logs were burnt about halfway through. By the time she had the meat prepared, he pronounced the gridiron hot enough.
“I’ll just rub a bit of this grease on the bars so the meat doesn’t stick.” He knelt beside the hearth, his strong profile outlined by the firelight behind him. He seemed so sure of himself. She wasn’t certain
if she was more impressed by his endless abilities or envious of them.
The thought made her jerk her gaze from him. I’m sorry, Lord. Envy would be better channeled into the effort required to learn these skills herself.
They’d just spread the meat over the gridiron when the door opened and Antoine entered. He seemed more hunched than usual, with his thick animal skin coat and his walking stick.
He returned Joseph’s greeting with a nod and a curious smile. “I see I am just in time to break the fast. We are thankful for your kindness to us, Joseph.” That was the first time he’d used Joseph’s first name.
She couldn’t help but add, “Yes, we’re all thankful you’ve saved us from my burnt biscuits.”
He glanced at her with raised brows. “You attempted biscuits? That’s not even something I would try to make over an open fire. Emma makes great biscuits in her oven. Maybe she’ll have good advice.”
Monti turned to clear the table in preparation for eating. Joseph spoke of his sister as though she had mastered everything. A woman above all others. Monti was slowly beginning to dread her meeting with this bastion of domestic ability.
Chapter Eleven
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God.
~ Monti’s Journal
AS MONTI POURED COFFEE and set out plates for the meal, Antoine shuffled around in the corner where he kept his personal belongings.
Now would be a good time to talk through their plans for the day. “How far away is the tribe you’re going to see?”
He kept working as he answered. “A half day’s ride over the mountain.”
A niggle of alarm tugged in her chest. “Is it safe to travel back after dark?”
“Non. I shall stay the night with the Blood people and return by the morrow’s eve.” He turned his focus to her. “Perhaps it would be best for you to stay the night with Madame Grant. She would welcome your presence, I am sure.”
She opened her mouth to object, but Joseph stepped into the conversation. “Emma will want you to stay. You won’t be safe here alone.”
She spun on him. “I’ll be perfectly safe. I haven’t even met your sister. I’ll not foist myself upon her as a houseguest at our first acquaintance.”
Normally, men stepped away from the glare she aimed at him. It was the same look Mama had perfected to aid her in business negotiations.
Joseph stepped closer, though, bringing him near enough she could smell that scent that had come to mean strength and safety to her.
His voice lowered, its timbre sinking through her chest. “You don’t have to, Monti. But maybe keep it as a possibility. Wait until you meet my family, then decide.”
She stared into those amber eyes, darkened by the dim lighting in the cabin, yet still bright enough to shine through to her very soul. “All right.” The words came out just above a whisper as she forced them around the tightness in her throat.
His mouth formed a soft curve, then he broke their gaze, looking toward the fire. “It smells like our breakfast might be ready.”
JOSEPH STRUGGLED FOR something to say as the silence stretched on during their ride. It wasn’t like Monti to lack for words, and the tight line of her normally soft mouth made it clear she was nervous. She had no reason to worry, of course. Emma would adore her. Hannah, too. And Simeon would go along with whatever Em decided, although he’d probably share Joseph’s concern about a young, unprotected woman surviving alone in these parts. But Monti seemed nervous about meeting his family no matter how much he’d assured her, and the longer they rode, the tighter she gripped her saddle horn.
“We’ll see the house once we reach the top of that rise.” He motioned toward a gentle swell in the snowy ground.
She offered only a stiff nod. Apparently, he’d not said the right thing to ease her nerves.
Maybe he could distract her. “How did things go with Hungry Wolf’s people after I left yesterday?”
She darted an almost surprised look at him. “All right, I suppose. Except...did you know something is wrong with Hollow Oak’s heart?”
“Wrong? You mean she’s sick? She seemed to be running and playing fine while I was there.”
As Monti told of Flying Dove calling her into their teepee, then seeing the child struggling for breath as she slept, her tone took on a deeper urgency with each sentence. “Her feet were so swollen. Something is stopping her heart from pumping the blood effectively.”
He tipped his head at her as his mind scrambled to catch up with her flow of thinking. Maybe he’d been too focused on how upset she was and not paying enough attention to her words. “How do you know it has anything to do with her heart? Maybe she just has a childhood ailment that will go away in a few days.”
She shook her head before he even finished his words. “I’ve seen this. I’ve studied the workings of the heart and circulatory system for years. Something isn’t working correctly, and her mother knows it too.”
Too many questions assailed him, but he honed in on the one most curious. “You’ve been studying the workings of the heart for years? How...why?” What would possess a young woman to study medicine of that nature?
Her face seemed to harden. Or maybe just grow more stubborn. “Because I wanted to. But I don’t know what we can do for Hollow Oak. There’s been much discovery about heart conditions, especially genetic disorders that affect children. But none of the physicians working in that field have uncovered what can be done to save a child still living.”
He let her words sink in, sorting them from one angle, then another. “Simeon might be able to help. He knows all kinds of plants and herbs that are good for healing. Even saved my life once or twice with them. We can ask him.”
Her dainty brows pulled together as though she weren’t sure what to think about his offer. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. I spoke with Antoine, but his only advice was prayer. Which I’ve done, of course.”
They were mounting the rise then, and Monti’s attention was drawn to the valley that stretched out before them. The ground was vast and mostly open, as large in footprint as a mountain. Sprawling enough that Aunt Mary’s ranch existed in the same basin as Simeon and Emma’s cabin, but you could barely see one from the other.
From the side they entered, Monti would see the cabin perched about halfway across the valley before them. A cozy structure, with a barn and fenced pens scattered around the house.
Joseph could picture the scene in his mind, yet that wasn’t what took up his thoughts just now. He couldn’t quite pull his gaze from Monti’s face. The look of awe brightening her dainty features made her features almost glow. Perhaps that was the sun still low in the eastern sky, but no matter the reason, she looked more like an angel than any creature he’d ever seen.
Breathtaking.
She turned to him then, catching him staring, locking her gaze with his. Her eyes shimmered in a kind of joy that seemed to radiate from her very soul. Something inside him reached out to her, wanted to touch her. He had to fist his good hand around the saddle to keep from pulling her horse close and following through with his body’s yearning.
A soft smile touched her eyes first, slipping down to take over all her features. Then she glanced back at the valley before them and nudged her mare forward. “It looks like we’re almost there.”
As she rode forward, her words seemed to reverberate in his chest. Almost there. If only. But he didn’t let himself linger long enough to think how nice it might be if they were almost to a home they shared, this woman filling it with her angelic presence.
MONTI HAD PREPARED herself for any number of possible meetings with Joseph’s family—especially his sister. Maybe Emma would be plain and shy. Perhaps she would be curly-haired and outgoing. Mayhap tall and winsome. She had to be an excellent homemaker, because Joseph seemed to hold her up as one of the most able domestics in the land. How much of that was brotherly affection and how much was truth?
The woman whose fac
e lit when she opened the cabin door had to be Joseph’s sister. She had the same coffee-colored hair and the same striking reddish-brown eyes. “Come in, please.”
Joseph motioned for Monti to precede him into the house. “Emma, this is Miss Monti Bergeron.” He motioned toward her, but before he could finish his introduction, his sister took hold of Monti’s arm.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you. Joseph’s told us so much about you. It’s about time he finally brought you here.”
Monti had planned to curtsey as was a proper greeting, but Emma’s lively welcome pulled her off-course. He’d told them so much about her? “The pleasure is mine, Madame Grant.”
“Emma, please. We’re not so formal in this part of the country. You must be freezing. Come to the fire and warm yourself. I have mulled cider warming, would you like some?” She sent an affectionate smile at her brother. “Joseph will drink it all if I let him, so you’d best have your fill now.”
Monti removed her gloves and accepted the mug of cider, letting its spicy scent waft through her. Although Emma seemed eager to chatter, she had a kind of humble graciousness that emanated from her with every word and expression.
“Where’s my sidekick?” Joseph accepted his own mug from his sister as he stood by the fire.
“Napping, but she’ll probably hear your voice and be up any minute.”
Joseph shot Monti a mischievous look. “Can I wake her up then?”
“You certainly cannot.” Emma glared at him, then sent Monti a long-suffering smile. “He doesn’t realize how precious naptime can be. I get more done in that one hour than I do all afternoon.”
Joseph said, “You’d get more done if you didn’t play so much.”
Emma just shook her head. “Speaking of work, I was preparing dumplings for the midday meal. Monti, would you like to roll the pastry for me? I’m hoping Joseph will split more wood small enough to fit in the cook stove.”
This Wilderness Journey Page 9
