Wagon Train Sweetheart (Journey West 2)

by Lacy Williams

  “Does he feel the same?”

  Rachel’s question wasn’t idle curiosity, Emma knew. Her sister was her closest friend.

  “I…don’t know. I thought so, but since we returned to camp he’s been distant.”

  “Since Tristan’s arrival,” Rachel murmured. She looped her arm through Emma’s and they began walking toward their wagon. “Does Tristan know?”

  Emma shook her head. “He wants a mother for his girls.”

  Rachel fell silent, unlike her usual self.

  “What a mess,” Rachel finally said with a sigh. “Does Ben know?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “If you told him how you feel, perhaps he could ease over things with Tristan.”

  “Ben and Grayson are in favor of the match.”

  Rachel pulled a face. “Are you really willing to let those two determine who you marry? Like you let Ben convince you to come West?”

  Everything in Emma went still. “You knew?”

  Rachel’s arm slipped about her shoulders. “You’re my sister. Of course I knew you didn’t want to come—that you’d put aside your happiness for ours.”

  A sudden case of sniffles overtook Emma and she half laughed and wiped at her eyes.

  Her heart beat high in her throat just thinking of what must happen. “I need to tell Tristan how I feel. Even if…even if nothing happens with Nathan—”

  Rachel snorted.

  “—I can’t marry Tristan when I’m in love with someone else.”

  * * *

  Nathan wanted to dislike McCullough. But the man grew more focused as the storm brewed right over their heads. He understood how deadly the situation could be for the little girl.

  And then when Tristan muttered, “I’ve a daughter that’s four. I can’t get it out of my mind—what if it was her, lost out here…”

  And Nathan didn’t want the flare of compassion for the man, but felt it nonetheless.

  They had traveled a far piece from the wagon train, in the direction the children believed the little girl had gone. Tristan began guiding his horse in a perpendicular pattern, in hopes that they would see some sign of the girl as they rapidly lost the late-afternoon sunlight to the storm clouds. Men fanned out from the wagon train in the distance, moving slowly toward where they rode.

  Lightning flashed, momentarily blinding Nathan. Thunder boomed in quick succession. The storm wasn’t far off. Every moment that passed without finding her was a moment lost.

  They were running out of time.

  And then the first fat drops hit his shoulders.

  “Let’s split up,” he called out above the sudden rushing wind.

  McCullough seemed to understand how desperate the situation had gotten, because he didn’t argue.

  He pulled up the horse and Nathan slid from the animal’s back, his boots crunching in the dried late-summer grasses.

  “I’ll head west,” Tristan said, the horse wheeling in its nervousness.

  “I’ll take east. There’s a ravine about a half mile.” Nathan and his hunting partner had come across it earlier in the day.

  They parted and Nathan scanned the ground as he walked as quickly as he could.

  Rain began pattering the ground around him. He called out the girl’s name. Would she be frightened of him if she did see him, hear him? Would she stay silent so he would miss her?

  Had Beth felt the same terror he felt right now? The entire caravan was counting on him to find this little girl.

  Beth had been trying to protect her unborn baby.

  And he’d been trying to protect Beth, but he’d failed.

  If he failed at this, would Emma see him differently? He wanted to think no, but there were no guarantees in life.

  The rain began to pour harder and his hopes plummeted. The rain would obscure any chance of spotting a footprint and made it hard to see anything out of the ordinary—a hair ribbon. Anything.

  God? He reached out with the prayer, as rusty as his words of praise for his young hunting partner had been. Emma said You would forgive me if I asked. I can’t bear this burden any longer. Please. Forgive me.

  The prayer made him feel lighter, freer in a way he hadn’t expected. He noticed some blades of crushed grass and followed the trail. It could be a small animal. Or a small girl.

  Please. Help me find the girl.

  And he heard a mewling cry, just before another loud crash of thunder.

  He had reached the ravine and called out for the girl. Above the rain, he heard her soft sobs.

  He edged to the cliff side and glanced down. A dozen feet down. And there she was.

  Coincidence? He didn’t believe so.

  God had answered his prayer.

  She was clinging to the cliff face, with another drop of twenty feet—deep enough to be deadly—just beyond.

  He turned and whistled, waving his arms for McCullough, but the man was out of sight.

  He let out another shrill whistle, just in case, then turned back to the girl.

  Thunder boomed again and she cried out.

  “Hello, little one,” Nathan called down. He tried to gentle his voice, but it was impossible with the rain and thunder booming around them.

  “Are you all right?”

  She just sobbed louder.

  She was so small—there was no way she would be able to climb back up from where she’d fallen. And she might be injured.

  He glanced over his shoulder again, but there was no sign of McCullough. No sign of help.

  But McCullough had known which way Nathan had gone, toward the ravine. He would get here, eventually. If Nathan couldn’t get them out, they would wait. A little rain wouldn’t hurt them—as long as it didn’t flood and wash away the ledge where they would be standing.

  “I’m coming down to you, all right?”

  He made sure he was off to one side, so if he knocked off any dirt or rocks, they wouldn’t hit her, and began scrambling down to her.

  The ledge was narrow, barely enough room for them both, and he didn’t want either of them to take that twenty-foot drop.

  He bent as much as he was able while keeping his balance. He didn’t want to frighten her and have her dart off that ledge.

  “Honey, I’m here to help. My name is Mr. Nathan.”

  She looked up at him and he worked to gentle his expression.

  And she lifted one arm to him, as if she recognized that he was there for her and wanted him to pick her up. That was when he noticed her other arm was tucked up next to her body, and a little crooked. Had she broken it, falling down onto this ledge?

  He gathered her up, wincing at the tiny whimper when her arm was jostled.

  “We’ll be all right, honey. They’re gonna find us.”

  The ravine was too steep for him to climb out with only one arm, especially since she was hurt.

  And it started pouring even harder. He tucked his coat around her as best he could, sheltering her between himself and the rock wall.

  It seemed an eternity—hours of her tiny sobs shaking her body, cold rain dripping down the back of his coat—before he heard McCullough’s shouts.

  He hollered back and McCullough found them. It didn’t take long for the other man to get a rope tied to his saddle and pull Nathan and the girl out.

  “She’s injured,” he said as he handed her over to the other man.

  He saw the gentleness McCullough treated her with and knew he could be trusted to get her back to camp. McCullough’s horse sidestepped nervously, as if threatened by the thunder.

  “Take her back to Emma. Emma can set her arm. I’ll find my way back.”

  McCullough met his gaze just as lightning lit up the landscape. Something passed between them, some know
ing.

  And McCullough nodded.

  He mounted up, taking care with the girl, and rode off, leaving Nathan alone.

  Except this time, Nathan wasn’t alone. He couldn’t forget the prayer that God had answered.

  But…he also knew that McCullough was a man who could be trusted. A man who was good for Emma.

  Where did that leave Nathan?

  Alone in the cold rain.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rain poured down on the family tent. Emma and Rachel huddled inside waiting and praying while Ben had gone out searching with the other men.

  Emma’s thoughts and prayers ricocheted between Nathan, Tristan and the missing girl.

  If anyone could find the missing girl, it was Nathan. But he had said the rains could wash away signs of her. Emma couldn’t imagine the mother’s grief if they didn’t find the little girl.

  And then there were shouts and hoofbeats above the sound of the rain and the storm.

  Rachel opened the tent flap, but all that did was bring in rain blowing sideways.

  “There’s definitely something going on out there,” Rachel said over her shoulder.

  And then a voice was shouting Emma’s name.

  Her heart thrummed high in her chest. Nathan?

  But it was Tristan who appeared out of the swirling rain, holding a small, prone body in his arms.

  “Broken arm,” he said after a loud crash of thunder. “Can you set it, Emma?”

  Rachel vacated the tent with a quick response. “I’ll get your supplies.”

  And then Tristan filled the tent with his overwhelming presence.

  He knelt close and laid the girl out on one of the bedrolls.

  “Where’s Nathan?” She couldn’t help the words, but she kept her focus on the little girl, stretching out the arm as best she could with the little girl clutching it to her chest.

  “He saw how bad off she was and sent me ahead.”

  How very like Nathan.

  Emma’s gentle fingers probed the break at the girl’s forearm and the little one cried out.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Emma crooned. “It hurts now, but we’re going to make it better.”

  She couldn’t think with Tristan so near and her worry for Nathan overpowering her other thoughts. Was he in danger from the lightning strikes out on the prairie? Was he cold, alone?

  She loved him for putting the little girl’s needs first, above his own safety. Hadn’t he been doing that for Emma?

  “Will you splint it?” Tristan asked. At her elbow, he was steady and strong, handsome and well-spoken.

  And she didn’t want him.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  And she didn’t hesitate as she said, “Nathan. I need Nathan.”

  Lightning chose that moment to split the sky, illuminating his features and his intent gaze.

  Her stomach dipped. Maybe he realized what she really meant, maybe he didn’t.

  And this wasn’t the time for a candid conversation. Even though she needed to initiate one.

  He ducked out into the storm without a word.

  She bent to try to comfort the young girl, but who would comfort her? Was Nathan hurt out there?

  The fear she’d kept carefully hidden from her family—until now—threatened to overtake her.

  And then Rachel put her head through the tent flap. “Here’s your bag. I put some pieces of wood inside, if you need a splint.”

  Her sister pushed the satchel inside the tent and turned away.

  “A candle, Rachel—”

  But it wasn’t Rachel who ducked inside the tent.

  “Nathan,” she gasped.

  He dropped to his knees beside her.

  The girl’s cries quieted. She seemed to recognize Nathan.

  “Are you all right?” she managed.

  His jaw tightened as he nodded. “Just a little wet.” It was an understatement. He was sopping wet, dripping water everywhere.

  “Sorry,” he apologized.

  Despite the tight quarters, he shrugged out of his coat and stuffed it on the floor near the tent flap, leaving himself in shirtsleeves. His dark hair hung dripping about his shoulders.

  And he was so dear to her.

  But he barely glanced at her. “What do you need me to do?”

  They worked together to set and then stabilize the girl’s arm with the splint, wrapping it with lengths of cloth.

  Nathan’s calm presence soothed Emma, in contrast to Tristan whose hovering had only gotten her more and more worked up.

  But something was off with Nathan. He didn’t look at her once in the flickering candlelight.

  His voice was low and soothing, but he spoke only to the little girl.

  It didn’t take long, and the little girl’s cries had calmed to sniffles.

  “I want Mama,” the little one said.

  “She’s right outside,” Nathan answered.

  He was nearer the door and handed out the girl into her mother’s waiting arms.

  And Emma realized the storm had passed. Thunder rolled in the distance. Rain pattered softly on the tent roof, at much longer intervals than it had earlier.

  Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I should go.”

  She wanted to reach out to him, to somehow close the distance that had grown between them these past few days. But she didn’t know how.

  And she had to speak to Tristan first, and maybe Ben, and settle this once and for all.

  But if Nathan’s feelings had changed, was it all for naught?

  She followed him out of the tent into a crowd.

  “Who’s to say he didn’t hide that little girl away to distract us all while his partner stole our belongings.” James Stillwell was holding an accusatory finger pointed at…Clara.

  The woman in disguise was clearly in distress.

  Emma looked around for Ben, but he was nowhere around. Tristan had also disappeared.

  The little girl’s mother held her toddler in her arms, her gratefulness evident in her expression but quickly fading.

  “Clara—”

  “Ence is no thief,” Nathan finished for Emma when she would have fumbled over the name and possibly revealed Clara’s secret. She sent him a grateful look but he had his arms crossed and chin raised as he stared down Stillwell.

  “And neither is Nathan,” she said, her volume finally obeying her.

  She felt her heart beating in her throat as all eyes turned and landed on her.

  Her voice trembled but she forced herself to go on.

  “He…he risked his own life to save an eight-year-old girl, Ariella Harrison, from drowning.”

  Stillwell shrugged off her words. “So what? He could’ve done it to draw attention from himself, make everyone think he was some hero when he’s been the thief all along.”

  At her side, Nathan bristled, fists clenching on a deep inhale.

  She prayed he wouldn’t do something in retaliation—like slug Stillwell the way she wanted to for the awful accusations he was making against Nathan.

  A young voice piped up from the gathered crowd. “Mr. Nathan wouldn’t do nothin’ like that. He’s a hero, like from the book he’s been readin’ us.”

  Georgie had puffed out his chest and raised his chin, practically daring Stillwell to say something else bad about the man he’d come to think of as a good guy.

  And she was afraid Stillwell would do it.

  “He spent all morning teaching me how to hunt,” came another voice. This from a young man she didn’t recognize. “So my family could have meat—we ain’t eaten meat in three weeks. How’d he sneak away with that little girl if he was with me all that time?”

  Nathan was barel
y breathing at her side. Whether he felt it or not, her insides swelled with pride for him. He’d been doing a good deed.

  And it was paying him back because the young man had offered him an alibi.

  “He helped us mend the wagon bonnet,” another voice said, a grown man this time. Quietly, as if he almost didn’t want to admit to it.

  The tide was turning against Stillwell.

  “Whatever crime has been committed, Nathan wasn’t a part of it.” For once, Emma’s voice rang out clear and true.

  And the crowd heard her. And listened.

  “Clarence wasn’t a part of it, either,” Nathan stated unequivocally.

  Stillwell looked as though he would start up again, but Tristan and Ben chose that moment to walk up to the fray.

  “What’s going on?” Ben demanded.

  It was enough to get the attention off Emma and Nathan.

  He ducked around the wagon, escaping the commotion inside the caravan.

  And she followed.

  She had to know if his feelings had changed. He’d kissed her twice. The first time he’d declared it a mistake but the second… The second time she’d begun imagining a future for them together.

  If he didn’t care for her anymore, she had to know.

  And if he did, well, after standing up for him—the way she should’ve from the beginning—she was ready to speak to Tristan.

  * * *

  Nathan was aware of Emma following him. He couldn’t face her, not with all the emotions crashing through him in waves.

  He was certain McCullough was the better man. He’d proved it out searching for that little girl.

  And trouble continued to follow Nathan around. Now Stillwell had attempted to drag Clara into his unfounded suspicions. Whether he really believed the disguised woman was involved, or just brought her into it because Nathan had been helping her, Nathan didn’t know.

  How could he ask Emma to be a part of his life if the stigma of being an outsider, someone to be suspicious of, followed him around?

  How could he ask her to stand by him when he was just getting his life back together?

  It wasn’t fair to her, not when she had someone like Tristan waiting to give her the perfect life.

  His triumph at saving the little girl had been short-lived. Now all he felt was the heavy weight of his decision to let Emma go.