The Courageous Brides Collection

by Johnnie Alexander, Michelle Griep, Eileen Key, Debby Lee, Rose Allen McCauley, Donita Kathleen Paul, Jennifer Uhlarik, Jenness Walker, Renee Yancy

  She stood and settled a hand on Travis’s shoulder. The boy looked up, eyes full of expectation.

  “Help me with the horse.” She signed the statement and beckoned him to follow. They disappeared, and a moment later, the jarring sway of the travois began.

  Finn gritted his teeth to ward off the spikes of pain. Within moments, his head swam, and he gulped down air in a vain attempt to settle himself. To no avail.

  God in heaven, please help me.

  Chapter Six

  Hannah plodded, every muscle screaming. The late afternoon sun slanted across the rugged terrain and glinted on the stream’s surface. She gauged the sun’s position against the peaks around her. Wouldn’t be long before the sun sank behind them and darkness descended. Time to make camp.

  At the sound of a distressed cry, Hannah stopped the horse and scurried to Finn McCaffrey’s side, Travis on her heels. The jehu slept as he had most of the day, though his blond hair was damp with sweat. He must’ve done battle with the blankets. The rumpled covers lay diagonally across his body, binding one arm and the opposite leg.

  “Has your fever finally broken?” she asked, despite the man being asleep. She touched his forehead but quickly pulled back. His skin was unexpectedly fiery. She touched his stubbly cheek.

  He flinched, drew a sharp breath. “Don’t touch her.” He batted her arm away.

  Travis startled at the unexpected movement.

  Hannah held up a cautioning hand. “It’s all right. He’s dreaming.”

  The boy’s brown eyes clouded with concern.

  “Mr. McCaffrey.” Hannah patted his cheek. “Wake up.”

  He panted, fighting to extract his left arm from the woolen blankets.

  She gripped his shoulders and gave him a mild shake. “Mr. McCaffrey!”

  His blue eyes snapped open, wild and distant, and his right hand shot to her throat. Yelping, Hannah drew back, though he held her fast. Her own hands circled his wrist while his fingers tightened, digging into her flesh. She struggled to draw a breath.

  “Stop!” Travis screeched and clawed Mr. McCaffrey’s hand. Unsuccessful, the boy grabbed the travois frame and tilted it sideways.

  The pressure on her windpipe loosened, and she collapsed, sputtering and coughing as the travois dragged past, the horse walking on without them.

  Travis bent low beside her. “He hurt you?”

  One hand braced against the ground, she sucked down several breaths, cleared her throat, and coughed again. She willed her heart to slow its thundering staccato. When she finally glanced sideways, Travis’s big brown eyes brimmed with tears.

  Scared her, but he hadn’t hurt her. Not badly, anyway. Hannah shook her head.

  The boy stared as if assessing the truth.

  Her eyes strayed toward the horse, still pulling the travois. She pointed. “Stop the horse.”

  With a firm set to his jaw, he scrambled after the big animal.

  Clearing her throat again, Hannah looked heavenward, her own eyes stinging with tears. “Lord, how long must we keep wandering out here? Mr. McCaffrey is growing worse. Please, help us.”

  “You tried to kill her!” Travis stood over Mr. McCaffrey, both fists clenched as if ready to pounce.

  Muscles leaden and clumsy, Hannah stumbled up, caught her balance, and ran toward the pair. As she reached Travis, she spun him to face her. “Don’t hurt him.” She signed and spoke the words.

  Travis’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

  “He has a fever.” Again, she signed, then settled the boy’s palm against Mr. McCaffrey’s forehead.

  He jerked his hand away, darting a glance between them. “He’s dying?”

  Not if she had anything to say about it. Hannah shook her head. “He’s very sick.”

  Silent, the boy backed off, frowning.

  Hannah turned to her patient. “Mr. McCaffrey?” She peeled the blankets away from his torso and loosened the bandages binding his ribs.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was unsteady, eyes glassy. “Didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It was a nightmare.” A product of the fever, no doubt. “Who were you trying to save?”

  “What?”

  “Just before I woke you, you called out, ‘Don’t touch her.’ It sounded like you were trying to save someone.”

  His breath caught, and he rolled his head to the side.

  Dumb question, Hannah Rose. Don’t remind him of the nightmare.

  She peeled back the dressing and bit her lip. The gash had grown worse since she’d last cleaned it. She must get the infection under control or he might die. Hannah laid the dressing back in place. “You rest. I’ll be back soon to tend that wound.”

  Hannah and Travis unpacked, setting the bags on the ground near the travois. It took both of them to unstrap the contraption and lift it from the horse’s back. Afterward, she sent him to gather firewood, and while she waited, she dipped the cloth into the icy stream and returned again to Mr. McCaffrey’s side.

  “Drink, Mr. McCaffrey.” She lifted his head and squeezed the water into his open mouth. Several times, he opened his mouth for more. When he shook his head, she laid the cloth aside and looked again at the wound tracing his ribs. If she had a way to heat water—a pot or tin cup—cleaning his wound would be far more effective. She rose and extracted a linen handkerchief from her bag and dunked it in the stream.

  “Ma’am?”

  Hannah met his eyes as she eased back to the ground beside him.

  “You mind…talking to me? Keeps my mind…off the pain.”

  How could she refuse him? He hadn’t complained once since the crash. “Of course. What would you like me to talk about?”

  He closed his eyes and shrugged. “Anything. Where you’re from?”

  She inspected his wound, dabbing at it. “I left Illinois two years ago to move to San Francisco.”

  “Why’d you…come west?”

  “My aunt and uncle came out during the gold rush to open a boardinghouse. About three years ago, they heard of a small town needing a schoolteacher. I thought it would be an adventure, so I applied, and they accepted, even though it would take me months to arrive.”

  He peeled one eye open to look at her. “The deaf school?”

  A lump knotted around her heart. “No. I’m not a teacher at the deaf school, just a lowly assistant.”

  “Why’d you quit teaching…to become…an assistant?” He closed his eyes.

  Hannah rolled a glance heavenward. Lord, of all the things we could talk about, why did he choose this? “It was a bit of a misunderstanding. I…didn’t actually get the job.”

  He squinted at her. “A misunderstanding?”

  She sighed. “You’re obviously hurting. Rest now, Mr. McCaffrey.”

  “Asked you…to call me Finn.”

  Mute, she nodded.

  “Why didn’t they…hire you?”

  Blast that nosey man for pressing her. “Unlike so many others, this town required its teacher to be married.” She focused on his wound so he wouldn’t see the depth of her hurt.

  “They didn’t…tell you…before you came?”

  “They didn’t tell me that fact since my letter stated I was to be married a month after I wrote them.” She sat up straight and craned her neck, looking anywhere but in his blue eyes. “It didn’t occur to me to share the news that my groom called off our wedding in order to marry my sister.”

  He grunted. Before he could question her more, she climbed to her feet.

  “Where is that boy? He should’ve been here with the wood by now.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded pinched. Hannah laid aside the handkerchief, avoiding the certain pity she’d find in Mr. McCaffrey’s eyes. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She scurried off after Travis.

  Hannah gulped back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, and clenched her teeth. Lord, please be kind and let Mr. McCaffrey pass out before I return—and make him forget that whole conversation. Please?<
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  The fast-moving stream cut between two steep, rocky hillsides, dense patches of brush and a scattering of trees dotting each. She walked along the stream bank, searching the hills and watching for movement. It would hardly do to call Travis’s name. Lord willing, he would be somewhere out in the open.

  Ahead, the space between the hills narrowed where a rocky outcropping jutted toward the stream. Several huge stones formed a natural path across the water, and a wet shoe print marred one’s surface. She teetered across the stepping-stones to the far bank, reached the narrowest point between the hills, and skirted past the rocks.

  Beyond them, Hannah stalled. The area opened into a wide plain where the ground pitched gently downward. The stream picked up speed, running toward a cliff some thirty feet beyond. Not far from the stepping-stones, a sizeable pile of firewood lay abandoned. Beyond it, Travis stood with his back to her as he picked dark clumps of fruit from a thick stand of chokecherry bushes.

  “Hungry again.” She grinned.

  On the far side of the dense thicket, the brush rustled and shook. Grunting and snuffling sounds caught her attention. Every hair on her body stood at attention. Whatever was there was big. She turned toward Travis, and her mouth went dry.

  Oblivious.

  A black bear crashed through the thicket and swept the scene with a glance. Travis turned, wide-eyed, his face going deathly pale.

  The bear took a lumbering step toward Travis. The boy matched the movement, shuffling backward into the bush. He sidestepped, backed up another step, and another.

  Hannah flicked a glance toward the cliff some fifteen feet beyond, then to the bear.

  “Hey!” She forced the word out, though it was a mere squeak. She stomped her feet, stumbling on a rock. Knees weak, she went to all fours. “Hey, bear!” Hannah scooped the stone as she pushed back to her unsteady legs. “Leave him alone!” She flung the rock, just as her father had taught her as a girl. It struck with a thud.

  The beast turned. Hannah hiked her skirts and ran.

  Finn covered his eyes. He owed the woman a better explanation. His fingers had been around her throat, for pity’s sake. If Travis hadn’t called out, the outcome could’ve been far worse.

  He could let her believe some fever-induced nightmare made him do it, but this nightmare had haunted him throughout his life, the images always the same.

  Little hands carrying a platter mounded with food to the table. Tripping on a chair leg, platter overturning on the dirt floor. Heart pounding as Pa turns that drunken stare his way.

  “Stupid kid!” Pa’s fearsome backhand landing hard across his cheekbone. “That was the best we were gonna eat all month.”

  Ma scooping his frail body into her arms, cradling his head against her shoulder. Whispered words soothing his broken spirit. Pa cursing, dragging Ma up by her hair, shaking her.

  “Told you before, Bess. I’m sick of you turning that boy into a chicken-hearted little coward.”

  Small hands balling into fists. Undernourished body lunging up off the floor. “Don’t touch her!”

  Alcohol-drenched breath laughing in his face. “You really saying that to me, boy?”

  Little limbs trembling. Squeaky voice vanishing.

  Pa’s face twisting into an ugly mask. “That’s what I thought. Get lost, you little coward.”

  Backhand striking him again. Lights exploding in his head. Body slamming into the hearth. Can’t breathe.

  Ma struggling to free herself. “Leave him be, Jonas. He’s a child.”

  “Someone’s gotta toughen that brat up.” Pa’s big hand circling Ma’s throat, squeezing. Ma fighting, eventually going limp. Him tossing her aside. The sickening crack of her head hitting the edge of the hearth.

  Finn lurched onto his right elbow before the image of her lifeless eyes lodged again in his brain. He gulped air, fighting the pain that sliced through him from ribs to toes. As dizziness swept him, Finn sagged onto the travois, lying partially on his right side, head lolling heavily against his upstretched arm.

  “God, help me.” He panted the desperate prayer. It’s been twenty-seven years, and the fear is still as real as the day it happened. Lord, I don’t want to keep dreaming this dream. I don’t want to be like Pa. I don’t want the fear of being like him to rule me anymore.

  He waited for his head to stop swimming and some strength to return to his limbs, though the prayer kept replaying in his mind. “God, help. Please.”

  “Finn?” Hannah’s frantic cry split the stillness. “There’s a bear!”

  The words made little sense, but her tone tugged him to action. He struggled onto his elbow again and craned his neck in time to see her racing toward camp, a bear gaining on her.

  “Bear!” Again, Hannah’s panicked scream pierced his thoughts.

  Feet from him lay his Model 1853 Sharps rifle and bag of ammunition. Teeth gritted, Finn rolled onto his belly. Pain ripped through his side and pulsed into his leg, but he dragged the gun and bag near. Head swimming, he fumbled to produce caps and paper bullets from the pouch, somehow loaded the gun, and fired.

  The rifle roared, concussion echoing between the hills as darkness claimed him.

  Chapter Seven

  The gunshot, aimed at the far hill, thundered in Hannah’s ears. Several frantic glances behind her showed that the lumbering black form was speeding up and over the rise. She slowed, eyes pinned on the peak. When the animal didn’t reappear, she slowed more. Her muscles rebelled, locking tight, and she collapsed. Lungs burning and body trembling, she huddled on the ground, whimpering.

  Hannah lay still for several long moments, scanning her surroundings. When she did move, she struggled to sit up and face the direction she’d come from. At the sight of Travis watching her from beside the stepping-stones, sobs boiled out of her.

  Thank You, Lord. He’s safe.

  She fought to her knees but couldn’t muster the strength to stand. Pounding footsteps drummed into her consciousness, and she looked up to see Travis approach. He skidded to a halt and latched on to her. She clung to him, collapsing once more to a seated position. He gripped her just as fiercely, his thin frame shaking.

  When they both pulled themselves together, Travis hung his head. “I’m real sorry. Am I in trouble?”

  Fresh tears stung her eyes, though she choked them back with a rough chuckle. She held the boy’s face between her hands and shook her head. “No.”

  His eyebrows nearly disappeared under the bandage covering his forehead. “I’m not?”

  “No.” She again shook her head then kissed his hair.

  He crinkled his nose and swiped at the locks as if to remove the kiss, though a lopsided grin stole across his face when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Legs like warm butter, Hannah rose and staggered a few steps before Travis looped an arm around her waist. She hugged him again before heading toward the stepping-stones.

  Lord, Travis is so hungry for attention and eager to please. Thank You for letting him speak to me. It’s a breakthrough.

  As they passed by, her gaze fell across the camp on the far bank, Mr. McCaffrey lying facedown in the grass. Her heart lurched. Despite her shaky legs, she hurried on, Travis keeping pace with her.

  Once they reached the stepping-stone path, Hannah and Travis split the pile of kindling he’d gathered and ferried the wood across, though her arms shook with the weight. On the other bank, Travis stalled, eyes pinned on something. He nodded to the charred remnants of a stone fireplace and two partial walls.

  Hannah stared at the burned remains then back toward the camp. The sun was dipping lower every minute. She needed to check on Mr. McCaff—on Finn—to be sure he hadn’t reinjured himself, but there could be something usable within the rubble. Something to hold and heat water. She shook her head.

  “First, check on Finn. Once you know he’s all right, you can search the ruins.”

  But what if the bear returned?

  The unbidden thought shuddered through her. She
touched Travis’s arm, starting again toward camp. He trotted along beside her.

  At the camp, Hannah dumped the wood and knelt beside Finn. She lifted his shirt to find blood oozing from his wound. She pressed the soiled dressing against it and gauged the daylight. Too much to do. She must get Finn settled, start a fire, search the burned cabin, tend Finn’s wounds—hopefully with warm water—and find some way to feed Travis. What else was she missing? The temperature was dropping quickly. She should build some kind of a shelter for them. Fatigue stole through her.

  “One thing at a time, Hannah Rose.” She caught Travis’s attention with a wave and offered him the matches she’d pilfered from Bob Racklin’s pocket. “Start a fire, please.” She gestured toward the piles of wood.

  He looked at the wood and snatched the matches. No need to explain further.

  Hannah wrestled Finn onto his back, her muscles quivering. Once he was settled, he blinked distant eyes.

  “Mr. McCaffr—” She caught herself. “Finn?”

  The jehu looked toward her. “Huh?”

  “Are you in pain? Worse pain, I mean?”

  His eyes slid shut, as visible chills swept his body. Perhaps he hadn’t truly been awake. She focused on stanching the bleeding.

  “The bear?” Finn’s unexpected words startled her, and she sat straighter.

  “The gunshot scared it off. Thank you.”

  His eyelids fluttered halfway open. “You…hurt?”

  “No.” She drew a shaky breath. “Travis found a thicket of chokecherry bushes, but he couldn’t hear the bear foraging on the far side of it. The beast turned on him, so I …” She shuddered, her throat constricting.

  “You…drew it…away.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  A weak smile sprouted on his chapped lips. “Brave.”

  A sound between a snort and a sob burst out of her. Terrified, more like.

  He caught her hand and pinned her with an intense gaze. “Bravest woman…I ever met.”

  Certainly not. “That has to be the fever talking.”