by Jenna Kernan
“Everything is so white,” called Emma.
Her words sent a sliver of apprehension through Jake.
“Even the sky seems white. Why is that?”
He spun around to see Emma sitting with her hat resting on her back. How long had she been staring into the blinding snowfield?
“Put on your hat.”
She looked straight ahead, but did not seem to be looking at him. His heart slammed against his ribs as he slid from his horse, slipping on his way back to her. His suspicions proved correct as Emma did not follow him with her eyes, but continued to stare ahead at where he should be.
“I was cold. I thought the sun might warm me up.”
Her red face showed sunburn. He waved his hand before her eyes. She did not move.
“Emma?” he called.
She turned her head toward him. The first flicker of fear danced across her face.
“Jake? Why can’t I see you?”
“Snow-blind,” he said.
She groped for him and he rested a hand upon her knee. “I’m here, Emma.”
“Oh, God, Jake. I’m blind!”
“The sun is powerful up here.”
“What do I do? Is it permanent? Oh, Lord, no.”
He found her hand. She gripped him like a lifeline. “I’ll bandage your eyes to give them a rest.” His voice relayed none of the panic firing through his belly. “They should come out all right.”
Often they did. He’d known this to happen. If a man was alone, he’d likely stumble off a ridge, starve to death or fall prey to wolves. Survivors mostly got their vision back, though he knew one man who never did. This information he kept inside his heart as he drew Emma down into his arms. He had carried antelope that weighed more than this woman. She clung to his chest and sobbed. This time he understood her anguish. He found himself making hushing noises that seemed to comfort her. The tears still coursed down her cheeks, but the crying ceased. Why hadn’t he told her to wear her hat? It seemed such an obvious thing to do in a snowfield; he had never considered she didn’t know. But how could she know? Emma was his responsibility. He would have to be more vigilant.
He wound soft tanned leather around her head and replaced her hat. Then he led her to her mount. She clung to his chest, gripping his shaggy wolf coat in both fists.
“I’m afraid to ride alone.”
He dreaded riding double, not because the extra load would tax Duchess, but because he’d have to hold her.
“You’ll be all right,” he assured, not sounding confident at all.
“Please?”
Her entreaty tugged at his heart. He gave up without another word, leading her to Duchess and boosting her up. When he tied her horse’s lead behind his saddle, the brute lashed out with his front foot. Jake decided he didn’t like her horse.
Standing beside Duchess again, he paused to study Emma and knew why he didn’t insist she ride alone. He wanted to hold her and welcomed the excuse.
He cursed his own weakness as he drew himself up behind her. Then he clicked his tongue to signal Duchess onward. Emma huddled against him, her cold legs molding to the muscle of his thighs. Her bottom nestled into the lee of his waist. Her back and his chest fit like hand and glove. What would it be like to sleep thus, with this woman tucked tight against him?
He shook his head as he realized she got under his skin faster than a chigger without batting an eye or sending him a coy glance. How did she do it when he warned himself against her?
It was a man’s weakness. The only way to resist a beautiful woman was to stay clear of her. He couldn’t even get that right. Now she trembled against him, but from fear or cold he could not tell.
He wrapped one arm about her waist and hurried Duchess along with his legs.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Emma’s teeth chattered, as she nodded. He spun in the saddle and she heard him rummaging. The world about her had gone from brilliant white to terrifying black. How had she failed to notice the snow and rock and sky gradually blending into one blanket of dazzling light?
Blind—how could she be blind?
The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her and she resisted the urge to throw herself from the saddle and run. It made no sense, but still she knew she would do it. Is this how her mother felt? Did she have this same desperate emotion? Had the urge to run, to scream, to fly so overwhelmed that it stole her mind and drove her to madness?
The smell of musk and buffalo enveloped her as he drew a heavy cloak about them. The coarse hair of the hide tickled her nose and she turned her head.
The wind ceased to blow. Inside this dark cocoon, Jake’s body warmed hers and she lay beyond the touch of the terrible mountain. He kept her safe—safe from the blinding snow and the madness within her. In his arms, she found the courage to draw another breath and then another.
The horse seemed to be heading down now.
“Have we crossed the divide?” she asked.
“A while back. We have a ways to go before we hit the tree line. That ice patch back there delayed us good and proper.”
“Is it sunset?”
“Just about. Sun is creeping over the plateau below this peak. Past that I can see the Tetons. Be two more days before we cross those mountains. They’re jagged as wolf’s teeth, but not nearly so high as this here. I’d say this is the highest point we’ll hit on this trip.”
He continued to talk, his voice rumbling in her ear and against her back. The sound soothed her nerves.
“Sun is fixing to set. The clouds are changing colors. They’re purple now, but in a few minutes they’ll light up pink and orange. Never get tired of the sunsets. I couldn’t see it in Jessup’s Cut. Mostly the sun just sunk away without me taking any note except to light a lamp. Pity, really.”
“I couldn’t see it from the fort.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Seeing to my father’s comfort while he traded with the Indians on the Missouri. When he came to the Rockies to build a trading post, he left me behind.” She did not tell him that it had been the best year of her life. Mud, men and manure had been preferable to her father. For the first time in her life she’d been rid of him, if only temporarily. “That’s when I tended the men with fevers and injuries, while I waited for my father to send word.”
“How long?”
“From June until April. When I left, Colonel Leavenworth gave me Scout and my saddle, tack and this jacket as a way of saying thank you.”
“Probably glad to be rid of him,” he muttered.
“What?”
He cleared his throat. “Didn’t your father leave you a horse?”
He’d left her very little. She’d been embarrassed to ask for assistance from the colonel, but he’d seemed to comprehend her distress and had offered her meals in exchange for her services with the sick soldiers. “She was old and died that winter.”
“Were you glad to leave?”
She hesitated. The truth or polite conversation? She drew a breath and plunged in.
“I dreaded it.”
“Why come, then?”
What did he mean, why? Her father had ordered her. Did Jake think she’d had some choice, some option other than to obey her father? Then it occurred to her that he did. Here was a man who had made up his own mind and had left his family without regret. What would she give to have the courage to disobey her father?
“Where would I go that my father couldn’t find me?”
“I reckon this place will do.”
She laughed. “True. He can’t find me here.” Her thoughts grew dour. “Jake, what will you do if my vision doesn’t return?”
“Oh, you only went a few hours in that snow. You’ll be all right.”
“How long until we know?”
“Rest your eyes until tomorrow night. Then we’ll take a peek.”
Two days of darkness. She gasped and huddled against him. Would he abandon her if she could not see? What else could he do
? Could he drag a blind woman past Indians, through deserts and into Mexican territory?
Her experience with her father taught that men needed women who worked. Since her mother had left, Emma had sewed her father’s clothing, cleaned and cooked. In return he’d provided a roof and food. It was her understanding that she was only needed for as long as she was useful because certainly he did not love her. There was nothing more useless than a blind woman. Pure terror jolted her body.
“Jake, if my vision doesn’t return…”
“Don’t fuss. I won’t leave you, Emma.”
She believed him, trusted him in a way she didn’t understand. Why she trusted him, she could not say. Somehow this man was different than all others in her life.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I guess you’d do the same.”
Somehow this made her smile, lifting the edges of her bandage. The utter darkness beyond changed her mood again. She must wait another full day to know if she would be forever blind.
“Jake, I’m so scared.”
His strong arm tightened. “I’ve got you.”
Jake rode into the night, picking around boulders the size of houses. The sliver of a moon rose, giving him scant light as he left the snowfield. He followed the animal trail along a steep ridge. For the first time he felt glad Emma could not see. This stretch terrified his trapping team when he’d led them into the Green River Valley. A drop of several hundred feet gaped to his right. Still the trail lay wide enough for wagons. Duchess plodded along, surefooted as a mule. Her head bowed in an attitude of fatigue. She’d been carrying them since sunup and they were closer to dawn than dusk now.
Gradually, silver islands of grass appeared and with them came the buzz of insects. He pushed on through the brush and twisted trees, blown and stunted by winter winds he could only imagine. The ponderosa pines came next and he breathed their scent with relief. Not far now and they could all rest.
Emma’s head lolled against him. She’d fallen asleep hours ago. He drew his stiff shoulders together and groaned at the pain that shot down his spine. Weary and saddle sore, that’s what he was.
He rode on until he found a glacial stream running from the ice above them. Finally, he drew up on the reins and Duchess gave an audible groan. He patted her hindquarters.
“You are still my best girl,” he whispered and then slid off the horse, keeping one hand on Emma.
She swayed but stayed upright. He pulled her down into his arms, letting the hide fall from his shoulders. She moaned as he stood her up and waited until she woke enough to keep from toppling.
“Stay here with the horses.”
He quickly threw the hides down and then his wolf blanket. He led her to the bed and laid her between the skins. Then he saw to the horses, giving them each an extra measure of grain. Finally, he crawled in beside Emma, dragging her warm body to his.
Just for the night, he thought, I’ll just hold her for this one night.
Chapter Five
Emma shivered in the night and a strong arm pulled her close to the warmth of a solid body. Not since she was a girl had she curled in bed with another soul, but the large form behind her was not her mother. Rather, it was distinctly male. Jake. She relaxed into his embrace.
She blinked, wondering at the total darkness about her and then remembered—the blindness. Her body trembled. Fear washed through her like ice through the spring runoff and she huddled against the reassuring strength of this man.
He’d told her earlier she would see again. She latched on to those words and held fast. Her fingers curled about his forearm, judging its girth. Resting in the lee of his body, she felt protected from the terrors of the wilderness and the demons of doubt within.
She lifted the edge of the soft hide sheathing her eyes and blinked into blackness. Unwilling to let the panic take her, she reminded herself that this just might be the depth of midnight. But why were there no stars?
What if it was morning?
That brought her sitting up. The soft fur slipped from her and Jake groaned.
“Lie down,” he ordered. The gravel of his voice made her doubt he was awake.
She slid down before him. Her fingers brushed his face, finding the hawkish nose, short coarse beard and closed eyelids.
“Jake, are you stirring?” she asked.
“I will be if you keep rubbing up against me.”
He made no sense. “Wake up,” she said.
“I am, damn it.”
She spoke the question spearing her heart. “Is it morning?”
His eyes blinked open and she withdrew her hand until it rested on his soft full lower lip. His mouth moved as he spoke. She felt a tingle, like a minnow swimming in her belly.
“No.”
She sighed and fell onto the wooly buffalo hide beneath her. “I’m so afraid.” Her fingers now tugged at the hide sheathing her face. “I need to get this off!”
He stilled her hands, capturing her wrists in one of his own when she strained to tear at the bandages. The force of his restraint grew as she struggled, thrashing uselessly beside him.
“Let me go!”
But he did not, only held her firm, immobile as granite. Her fingers curved into claws and she attacked his face, never getting close enough to draw blood. Her mind shattered as she screamed.
“Stop it, woman. Have you lost your mind? Stop.”
Lost your mind—lost your mind. The words spun into her awareness, acting like a steady breeze before fog, bringing everything into sharp focus.
What was she doing? She stilled instantly.
“Emma, can you hear me? Are you fevered?”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
In slow increments he released his hold and waited, his body tense beside her. Her rapid breathing blasted between them as her heart threatened to jump from her chest. She pressed a hand over her ribs, trying to still the frantic knocking. Finally, the sound of wind rustling through the branches returned to her. The smell of pine came to her next and then the warmth of Jake, still and cautious just inches from her.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I was frightened.”
“You fell asleep in the saddle. I tucked you in here with me. I never touched you. Do you understand me?”
“I wasn’t afraid of that, but the blindness. Oh, Jake, I can’t be blind. I’ve seen old women with cloudy eyes and…” She ducked her head into her hands and gasped. No—not again. Her momentary madness frightened her as much as the blindness. A blind, mad woman, that’s what she’d become. Would they put her with her mother then?
Jake eased closer and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow night, wait until then. Your eyes need a rest. If you broke your arm, you wouldn’t go tearing the splint off the next day, would you?”
She shook her head, then rested her hand on the reassuring bulk of his chest.
“You all right now?” The doubt in his voice, the tentative grip and stiffness of his frame told her he was braced for another attack.
Jake should know she carried the madness, but she dreaded telling him. Father said the same curse hung over her. That she must never marry, for her children might be touched, as well. He did not speak to strangers about her mother, but some of his men knew for they’d been there when it happened.
She whispered the truth. “I’m going mad.”
He dismissed her fears out of hand. “Don’t be silly.”
“It’s not silly. My mother is mad and she passed it to me.”
His breathing stopped and then resumed an even rhythm, but he said nothing for a time. “Who told you this?”
“My father.” She rushed on to tell him all of it. “At first she couldn’t sleep. Father said the wind on the prairie drove her mad. She begged him to send her east. Then she tried to leave the fort one night. Father said she heard voices and shut her in her room. She howled and threw herself against the door for days.”
“How old were you?”
<
br /> “Ten.”
“Jake, I’m afraid I have it, too.”
“The madness?”
She nodded. “I don’t hear voices, but I feel so restless. I want to leave the fort, too. It’s all I think about. If I’m blind, I’ll never be able to leave.”
He gripped her shoulders with authority. “You already left it. You’re out, remember?”
“I’m not an imbecile. I know you won’t take me along if I can’t see.”
“It’s just a bandage, Emma. Be patient.”
“What about the restlessness and the urge to run away?”
He laughed. “Everybody feels like that. I felt it back in that office. I stared out at the river and wished I could jump onto one of the barges and float down to the Atlantic. One day, I did. My dad caught up with me in Baltimore before I signed on to a clipper and agreed to send me to school.”
“But my father says I’m just like mother. That I’m touched, too.”
“I don’t know your mother. But I know you. This isn’t madness. You just feel like most folks who get trapped.”
“Trapped.” Yes, that was right. “Not mad?”
“I don’t think so.”
She sagged against him letting her fear seep away like water though sand. She lay against his broad chest a long while before she realized he stroked her head as if she were a child. Her cheek rested on the soft leather of his buckskin shirt.
“I can’t ever thank you enough for rescuing me.”
“Those Crow are unpredictable. Might have made you a slave.” That was a lie, of course. He knew they meant to kill her slowly.
“I wasn’t talking about the Indians.”
Jake continued stroking her hair. She sighed and nuzzled closer. He waited until her breathing told him she slept and then let his hand drop.
What in the name of God was he doing? He had only meant to protect her from her fears. She slept pressed up against him as if she were his wife and he liked it. Lord, he loved it.
