A surge of energy flooded him. His imagination hadn’t fooled him. He’d actually found a building.
Charging forward, he ran his hand along the rough wall as he searched for a door or other opening. The logs stretched about four strides before turning a corner. He followed them around and, finally, found the door.
Closed.
He fisted his hand and banged on it. Surely there wasn’t a person living out here, so far from any fort or trading post. He’d felt like he was the only man alive for days.
The wind howling around him covered any sounds that might come from inside. No latch string hung out as a sign that visitors could enter, but surely whoever had built the cabin wouldn’t mind him taking shelter from the blizzard.
He pushed his shoulder into the door. The wood wiggled as if it weren’t very strong, but the barrier didn’t open. He could break through with one good kick, probably.
Best try knocking first, though. Before he could raise a fist, the door swung wide.
Adrien straightened, peering into the darkness. Who had opened it?
An animal shifted inside, big and hairy. Like a bear. Or...a buffalo?
Adrien pulled Domino closer so he could reach the rifle strapped on the mule, yet he couldn’t take his eyes from the creature before him. The head shifted, and a bit of pale skin appeared.
A person’s face?
His breath left him in a whoosh, and he inhaled again, trying to still his thundering heart.
“What do you want?” The voice inside the fur robe yelled over the howling wind, but not even the blizzard was loud enough to disguise the high tone.
A woman?
Domino nudged his side, pulling him from the shocking discovery. He had to get them out of the wind. He jerked down the muffler that covered his mouth and inhaled to force out words.
Before he could speak, the woman swayed, first one direction, then toward the door as she clung to the wood for support.
“Are you well?” He reached out. The dim light and that dark fur shrouding her made her face seem as pale as death. He stepped forward to help her—or tried to, but his snowshoe caught on the wood transom beneath the door.
He pitched forward but caught himself on the frame.
She swayed again, and he reached out for her, but too late. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell to the dirt floor.
Raising his legs high so the awkward frames cleared the doorway, he stepped inside and glanced about. Nothing moved inside the small cabin.
The place was only one dim room with a rough-built fireplace and chimney at one end. No fire in the hearth. A pile of furs lay in the corner like a sleeping pallet. That would be the best place to put her.
He pushed the door shut to block out the wind, then eased down in front of the woman and pulled the fur cape back from her face. Dark brown hair spilled over her cheek. Her skin blanched almost as white as the snow outside. He shifted her so he could find an acceptable place to put his hands to carry her.
Her closed eyelids never moved. Heavens, don’t let her be dead.
She hung limp in his arms as he clomped to the stack of furs, and he tried to cradle her head in the crook of his elbow.
He sank to his knees to lay her on the low pallet, and she stirred as he pulled his hands out from under her. Thank the Lord she wasn’t dead.
She didn’t open her eyes, though.
“Mademoiselle.” He pulled off a glove and reached to touch her forehead. A glance at his bright red fingers stilled him. His skin was so icy he may not be able to feel whether she was feverish. But maybe they’d jolt her senses enough to wake her.
He pressed his hand to her brow. His brawny skin appeared so rough and masculine next to the pale softness of her features.
Her lashes fluttered. Long, black lashes that raised to reveal a sliver of blue. Her gaze seemed sleepy as it swept in a slow arc. When her focus lifted to his face, her eyes widened, and she came to life. Her muscles tightened under his hand, and she pulled back.
He jerked away, scooting backward to give her more space. Except the snowshoes wouldn’t let his feet move where he commanded. His body obeyed, however, shifting backward without anything to hold him up.
He toppled to the floor, landing on the raised edge of his snowshoe. The ache in his backside would leave a bruise tomorrow. He glanced at the woman to see if she’d caught his less-than-graceful retreat.
She lay there, rounded eyes luminous against her delicate features as she stared at him. She spoke, but the words came in English, and the only sound he could decipher was “Who.”
Pushing up to a crouch, he worked his snowshoes backward to give her a bit of space. Then he focused on the woman again and spoke in his native tongue. “I only speak French. My name is Adrien Lockman.”
Her brows knit in a thoughtful expression. Not complete confusion as he’d expected. Maybe she understood a bit of the language. He pressed on, keeping his words slow and as clear as he could make them with his mouth still frozen. “You are unwell. What can I get you for your relief?”
She started to sit up, but the way her face scrunched and her mouth pinched, the effort proved too difficult.
“Lie still.” He wanted to reach out and ease her back down, but something about the wariness in her eyes put him in mind of a cornered wildcat. “I won’t hurt you. I mean only to help. What is your name?”
She gave up trying to rise. Something must be truly wrong with her if she was that weak. Her gaze arrowed a seething glare his way. “What is your business here?” She spoke in French, although halting and stilted.
He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, the wind still howling outside. “I grew lost in the blizzard and almost ran into your cabin. I was hoping you would shelter my mule and me until the snow stops.” He ran his gaze over her face, drawn and pale. “It’s good I came when I did. You are not well. What can I get for you? Water to drink? Maybe a broth? Have you any stew or meat I can simmer?”
She shook her head. “There’s water by the hearth. I don’t need food. Let me rest and I’ll be well.”
He glanced at the hearth where a pot which probably held the water sat. Then he slid his gaze around the rest of the room. Sparse. Really, there was almost nothing else there. Not even scraps of wood to build a fire. Did that mean she didn’t have food either? That would certainly explain her weakened state.
Rising to his feet, he took a step back so he wouldn’t tower over her. “Do you mind if I bring my mule inside? Only until the wind settles down.”
She nodded. “Bring him.”
Thank you, Lord. Once he had Domino settled, he’d get a fire going and heat some food for her. Beans would be warm and stick to her belly, but maybe he’d start with something quicker. He could parboil a bit of venison. She didn’t look like she’d last long enough for the beans to cook without something to hold her over.
Within minutes, he had his snowshoes off and a fire licking at the dried wood he’d stored in Domino’s pack. The oilskin had kept all his supplies nice and dry, despite the blizzard.
Domino let out a bray as he sniffed the interior of the cabin. If the place had a wood floor, Adrian would’ve hesitated to bring the animal in. But honestly, this cabin wasn’t as nice as most barns back in France.
The mule shuffled forward to sniff the furs, moving toward the woman lying atop them.
She held out a gloved hand and spoke to the animal in English. Then she switched to French. “What’s his name?”
Adrien glanced over. “Domino.” He picked up the pot from his supplies and headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
He paused with his hand on the door latch and turned to look at her. She’d pulled the buffalo robe down as though prepared to launch out of the bed after him. Did she think he planned to walk out the door and not come back?
“Rest easy. I’m gathering snow to melt for water.”
Her body seemed to relax into the furs, looking so tiny a
mong them. How long had she been holed up in this cabin without food and warmth?
He turned back to the door and slipped outside. The blizzard still blew with all its fury, slamming into him as he crouched in the snow just beyond the door. He’d left his gloves off to make the work easier, and his numb hands stuck to the cast iron handles on the pot.
With all haste, he slipped back into the cabin, closed the door behind him, then barred it shut against the weather. Domino brayed again, whether to welcome him or protest the gust of wind and snow was hard to tell.
Adrien didn’t look at the woman as he worked over the fire, but the burn of her gaze bore into him. Where had she come from? How had she ended up here alone? So many questions, yet they would have to wait until she’d eaten and warmed herself. Maybe then her wariness would ease.
When the snow in the pot melted and grew hot, he scooped out a cup full and turned to the woman. “Drink this to warm you.”
She shrank back into the blankets, so he slowed his approach, keeping a little distance between them as he held the mug out.
That seemed to help, for she loosened her clutch on her fur covering and reached for the mug. Her hand trembled, making him hesitate to release the cup into her grasp.
“Here, I’ll help hold it while you drink.”
Her gaze flew to his face, the wary look turning to full suspicion. What did she think he would do? Dump the hot liquid on her?
He forced his expression to gentle even more. “Just until you get warm. The water is hot, we wouldn’t want it to slosh on you.”
Her hard expression softened a touch, and she focused on the cup and gripped the handle.
Together, they eased the mug to her lips and she sipped. Her face scrunched as the water went down, probably because of the warmth. The liquid shouldn’t be hot enough to scald her, but she must have been frozen through.
Her next swallow was less hesitant, and she started to drink hungrily. When she’d gulped down half the mug, he eased it away.
“Let that settle a bit, then have more.”
She sank back onto the pallet, her face more relaxed, lashes sinking lower so her blue eyes were hooded in their shadows. She would probably need a few moments for the hot liquid to work its magic and thaw her from the inside out.
At least she was on her way.
He turned back to the water over the fire, now boiling and ready to accept the venison. Once he got some food into her, he had more than a few questions. Where were they? How had she ended up with no food or warmth?
And the question that loomed strongest in his mind—who was this woman?
THERE YOU GO! IF YOU’D like to read the rest of Mary and Adrien’s story, you can get This Freedom Journey here.
Did you enjoy Joseph and Monti’s story? I hope so!
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Don’t miss the other novels in the Heart of the Mountains series!
Book 1
This Treacherous Journey
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Book 2
This Wilderness Journey
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Book 2
This Freedom Journey
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Book 4
This Courageous Journey
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If you enjoyed the Heart of the Mountains Series, you’ll love the spin-off series,
Mountain Dreams Series:
Book 1
The Lady and the Mountain Man
https://www.books2read.com/u/mYp5M3
Book 2
The Lady and the Mountain Doctor
https://www.books2read.com/u/mdNGGZ
Book 3
The Lady and the Mountain Fire
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Book 4
The Lady and the Mountain Promise
https://www.books2read.com/u/bzavoD
Book 5
The Lady and the Mountain Call
https://www.books2read.com/u/4jw11l
And don’t miss the
Wyoming Mountain Tales
Book 1
A Pony Express Romance
https://www.books2read.com/u/mBeoEy
Book 2
A Rocky Mountain Romance
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Book 3
A Sweetwater River Romance
https://www.books2read.com/u/b5OGO6
Book 4
A Mountain Christmas Romance
https://www.books2read.com/u/31gB17
Also look for:
Misty M. Beller’s
Texas Rancher Trilogy:
Book 1
The Rancher Takes a Cook
https://books2read.com/u/bzaXDL
Book 2
The Ranger Takes a Bride
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Book 3
The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl
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About the Author
MISTY M. BELLER writes romantic mountain stories, set on the 1800s frontier and woven with the truth of God’s love.
She was raised on a farm in South Carolina, so her Southern roots run deep. Growing up, her family was close, and they continue to keep that priority today. Her husband and daughters now add another dimension to her life, keeping her both grounded and crazy.
God has placed a desire in Misty’s heart to combine her love for Christian fiction and the simpler ranch life, writing historical novels that display God’s abundant love through the twists and turns in the lives of her characters.
Writing is a dream come true for Misty. Her family—both immediate and extended—is the foundation that holds her secure in that dream.
Connect with Misty at www.MistyMBeller.com
Dedication
To my own Hollow Oak.
Follow the dreams God has given you.
I’ll be cheering you on!
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2018 Misty M. Beller
All rights reserved.
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