Frontier Courtship

by Valerie Hansen

  “You could hand it over right now.”

  “And give you a chance to shoot me in the back when I ride away? Not hardly.”

  “You don’t trust me? Why not? What did I ever do to you?”

  Connell wasn’t about to let himself be drawn into a conversation that might make him so angry he’d accidentally reveal too much and thereby put others in more danger.

  He turned Rojo quickly and rode away as additional men joined the wagon boss.

  It vexed Connell to have to travel the emigrant trail to dispose of Tucker’s gun. He’d chosen that route simply because Faith had headed in the opposite direction. The longer he kept Tucker and the settlers distracted, the better her chances of escape.

  The last time Connell had seen her she’d been clinging to that mule’s back as if she was part of it, going like the wind. Since she wasn’t using a bridle, he hoped she’d have enough control to keep her mount from instinctively circling back to rejoin the familiar herd.

  If the rider in question had been anyone but Faith Beal he’d have doubted that feat was possible. In her case, however, he’d learned never to underrate her capabilities. If anybody could convince an old mule to behave, using nothing more than voice commands and a few firm nudges, Faith could.

  It was a sight he wished he could stick around to see for himself instead of having to hightail it west on account of Tucker. Oh, well, Irene could tell him all about it when he rejoined her.

  Irene!

  Taken aback, Connell realized he hadn’t even remembered to bid his future bride goodbye when he’d ridden off so abruptly. All his thoughts, then and since, had been of Faith. All his concern had been only for her.

  His gut twisted with remorse, yet he couldn’t help feeling continued apprehension for the young woman whose bravery, wit and compassion had earned her a special place in his heart.

  There was no way to make amends until he went back to camp, either. Fortunately Irene was a mature, sensible woman. Surely she’d understand his actions, if not his motives.

  Did he understand those motives? Did he want to? That was an excellent question, one he was not ready to consider, let alone answer too honestly.

  He slowed his horse, tossed Tucker’s rifle to the ground and sped away. There was no time to waste. Wherever Faith was, she needed help. His help. He’d rescued her before and he’d keep doing it as long as necessary. It was impossible to imagine himself not caring, not looking after her, no matter where she went or what she did.

  That thought plunged into his consciousness like raindrops splashing onto the surface of a river to instantly become part of the flow. How could he and Irene marry as they had promised when they were little more than children, while he continued to shepherd Faith through life’s trials? Even the most tolerant wife would wonder why her husband took such an inordinate interest in another woman.

  And she wouldn’t be the only one wondering, Connell told himself. He’d been pondering the same question lately.

  His life, his thoughts, his heart, had become so entwined in Faith Beal’s dilemma he couldn’t imagine ever breaking free. The question was, did he even want to try?

  Fingers cramped, muscles throbbing, Faith didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hang on…or how many more miles Ben was going to travel. Though he’d slowed to a stiff trot as he picked his way through the unfamiliar landscape, he was still making good time. She could hear him snorting, feel his sides heaving with every breath.

  By listening carefully she decided no one was pursuing them. At least there was that to be thankful for. Speaking of which, she’d been lax in giving proper thanks for her deliverance. Again.

  It was hard to enunciate clearly with the mule’s gait bouncing her around, but she did manage to string together a simple, heartfelt “Thank…you…Father!” by inserting one crisp syllable between each stride.

  The unexpected sound of her voice after she’d been quiet for so long must have startled the old mule. It shied, pranced sideways for a few yards, then kicked out at an invisible nemesis before continuing forward.

  Had Faith been riding with a saddle, or even just a bridle, she wouldn’t have had trouble staying aboard. Riding bareback was another story. She was already slipping off the right side of Ben’s back when his unexpected lunge pitched her forward. Instead of falling all the way to the ground, she closed her arms around his upper neck and hung on for dear life.

  Straddling his mane, her face nearly between his big ears, she wondered what in the world to do next.

  Ben took any decision from her by lowering his head and proceeding to shake her off like a pesky insect.

  All Faith had time to do was yell “Be-e-e-e-n! Whoa!” before she landed in a heap at his feet. If he hadn’t been so seasoned and wise he might have run right over her. Instead, he carefully sidestepped, stopped and waited, looking about as sorry and disconcerted as a traveling preacher who’d misplaced his only hymnbook.

  Faith sat there in the dust for a moment, making a mental and physical assessment of the parts of her that hurt. Two hands weren’t nearly sufficient to soothe all her bumps and bruises, not to mention wipe the dirt out of her eyes or check the scrapes she’d gotten when she’d slid to the ground.

  She’d decided no bones were broken and was getting to her feet when she heard a female voice say, “Nice dismount.”

  “Irene?” Faith’s head snapped around. Her mouth gaped. Not only had the other woman managed to follow her through the twilight-dim wilderness, she’d also picked up Faith’s riding horse and brought it along. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “You’re not supposed to. That’s one reason our ponies aren’t shod.”

  “You mean Indian ponies, don’t you?” Faith asked, frowning slightly.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you said our ponies. You may not realize it, but you talk like that all the time. It’s as if you identify more with the Indians than you do with your own people.”

  Irene nodded. “I suppose I do. This was my second summer with the Cheyenne. They treated me with respect and made me a part of their tribe while I learned their ways. It’s going to take me a while to get over those influences.”

  Faith was dusting off her doeskin skirt as she spoke. “I guess I can understand that. Right now I’m glad I traded my calico for this dress. If I’d been wearing a cloth outfit when I took that fall just now I’d probably have been torn to ribbons.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then we’d better be going. Connell is going to wonder where we are.”

  “Humph. That makes two of us,” Faith said, scanning the countryside with a puzzled frown. “All this land looks the same to me. I’m sure glad you showed up. I have absolutely no idea how to get back to our camp.”

  “It isn’t too far. We’ll have to pick up and move if the men from the wagon train come looking for you. I haven’t seen any sign of them so far, but they may change their minds.” She held out a rope. “Here. Throw a loop on your mule like you should have in the first place and let’s ride.”

  Faith was already beside Ben, meticulously checking him for injuries. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”

  “You’ll be done all right, like a roasted Christmas goose, if you don’t mount up and follow me. There’s not much moon tonight and the desert gets very dark once the sun sets all the way. That can work to our advantage if we’re smart.”

  “What about Connell?”

  “He could track an antelope blindfolded if he had to. Don’t worry. He’ll find us wherever we go.”

  Faith put the rope around Ben’s neck and tied it off, then took the reins of her saddle horse. She was about to mount up when an odd noise caught her attention. She froze, listening. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Irene insisted. “Come on.”

  “Well, I did.” Faith paused long enough to see if Ben had noticed, too. Not only was he
acting more alert, his ears were pricked and he was staring in the same direction she thought the sound had come from. “And so did he.”

  “All the more reason for us to keep moving,” the older woman cautioned. “You can either come with me or stay here and fuss about some will-o’-the-wisp. It’s up to you.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Faith said quickly. Keeping hold of the mule’s lead rope, she climbed into the saddle, kicked her horse and fell into line behind Irene without further discussion.

  Bringing up the rear, Ben snorted and blew condensation through his flared nostrils as if making his own comment.

  Faith glanced back at him. She could tell he was uneasy, as was she. Whether the third member of their trio believed it or not, she and Ben both sensed that something was amiss.

  Faith might have believed she’d merely been imagining things if her mule hadn’t echoed her nervousness. She shivered and peered into the distant dimness, straining to sort out the sounds of the desert at night.

  It was totally peaceful. Too peaceful. That wasn’t how other evenings had been. Normally, birds called and insects chirped, even in the darker phases of the moon. Tonight, absolute quiet reigned.

  The only sounds Faith was able to discern, no matter how hard she tried to hear, were the soft clumping of the horses’ hooves and the pounding of her own heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Circling wide to pick up Faith’s trail without being seen by anyone from the wagon train took Connell the better part of an hour. By the time he did find her mule’s tracks they had been joined by those of a pair of Indian ponies.

  He’d been hoping Irene would see what was needed and take appropriate action. Assuming those particular hoofprints didn’t belong to renegade Indians, she’d done just that and was currently shepherding Faith back to their campsite. Good. He’d have had a terrible time keeping track of both of them if they’d remained separated.

  Thinking of the two women at the same time pointed up many contrasts. Irene was steady. Predictable. Sensible to a fault. He might have attributed those characteristics to her maturity had he not known her when she was a mere girl. Even back then she had been the sober, rational type, wise beyond her years.

  Faith, on the other hand, was anything but prudent. She viewed life as one grand adventure and conducted herself accordingly. Where another woman might have collapsed in despair or fright, Faith Beal had trudged bravely on, head held high, spirits unflagging. When they’d first met, at Fort Laramie, she’d denied the pain of her injuries until her body had rebelled and forced her to pay heed. Now that she’d mended, it was even easier for him to appreciate her fortitude. Too bad it wasn’t tempered by more discretion.

  Rojo’s head suddenly came up, his ears swiveling forward. Since their campsite lay only a few hundred yards ahead, Connell wouldn’t have worried if a shiver hadn’t pricked the nape of his own neck at the same instant.

  He reined in the big gelding and dismounted. The camp was dark. Because of lingering danger from the wagon train, he hadn’t expected to see a fire. He did, however, think someone should have noted his approach and called to him by now. Irene would remain wary, of course, but Faith didn’t know the meaning of caution. Not hearing her voice made him more uneasy than he would have been if she’d shouted out a greeting—or a warning.

  There was no way he could sneak closer when Rojo was with him so he let go of the reins to leave the horse ground-hitched, then dropped into a crouch and started to circle the tiny encampment. Irene’s horse’s tracks had led straight there, so where was she? Moreover, what had become of Faith and her mule?

  Before Connell had time to ask himself any more questions he heard three telltale metallic clicks. Somebody had just cocked the hammer of a revolver! He froze.

  To his soul-deep relief, the sound was not immediately followed by a bullet. Instead, he heard a sharp intake of breath, then a smothered gasp.

  A lone figure arose out of the darkness. His subconscious recognized Faith in time to keep him from acting on instinct and forcefully defending himself. Relieved, though still on alert, he started to straighten slowly, cautiously.

  Faith uncocked her pistol, holstered it and launched herself at him with a squeal of delight. “Connell!”

  Her arms were open wide, her enthusiasm overwhelming. The plainsman caught her as she barreled into him, but her momentum carried them both to the ground and temporarily knocked the wind out of him.

  “Oof.”

  Faith didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, Connell. Praise God!” she blurted. “I’ve been so worried!”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  He gave her a wry smile, then asked, “Do you mind?” before clasping her waist and bodily moving her to one side. Once he’d regained his feet he gave her his hand and pulled her up, too.

  Faith was blushing, flustered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to knock you over. I was just so glad to see you. I’ve been terribly nervous, out here all alone.”

  Connell stiffened, fully alert and scanning the darkness beyond. “Alone? Irene isn’t with you? Why not? I followed your tracks.”

  “She was here. She took Ben and the horses to water.”

  Reassured, Connell began to relax. “Then everything’s okay. She wouldn’t have left you if she’d thought there was any danger. How long has she been gone?”

  Faith’s words tumbled out like water through floodgates. “I don’t know. It feels like forever. I was supposed to wait right here by the fire—only we didn’t light one—and tell you not to worry, that she’ll be back shortly. She swore she never gets lost. I didn’t know what else to do. After she went away, I began hearing things prowling around in the dark so I got out Papa’s gun. Oh, Connell! I might have shot you. I’m so glad I didn’t. You shouldn’t go sneaking up on me in the dark. I mean, what if I’d…oh, my.”

  Connell let her babble on till she’d run out of things to say, then reassured her with a soft chuckle. “Hey, you didn’t shoot, so stop fretting.”

  “I suppose I should have, shouldn’t I?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Shot me? No.”

  “No, not you. I mean whatever else is out there. I know something is. I can feel it. Ben sensed it, too.”

  “Probably coyotes.” Connell noticed she was trembling and put his arm around her shoulders for comfort. “You should never shoot at anything unless you can see it clearly and be sure it’s really what you think it is.” He gave her an amiable squeeze. “If you’ll remember that one rule you won’t blow holes in your friends by mistake.”

  He’d intended to raise her spirits with the silly comment. Instead, Faith stared at him for a second, then buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

  “Hey, enough of that. The scary part’s over. Everybody came through safe and sound, even the dumb kid who jumped on her mule bareback and started a stampede.”

  Faith sniffled, wiped her damp cheeks with the backs of her hands and looked up at him wide-eyed. “I—I did?”

  “You sure did.”

  “What happened? I was so busy trying to get away I never looked back.”

  “Let’s just say that Ramsey Tucker was good and bamboozled by the whole thing. He rode up after I got the stampede stopped and wanted to know what I’d seen. I swore I hadn’t seen one single Indian brave.”

  “You lied?”

  “Nope. He didn’t ask me about seeing any squaws. My conscience is clear.” Connell’s smile grew. “I knew you’d be proud of me for telling the truth.”

  Faith slipped one arm around his waist and leaned into him to take full advantage of the way he was still hugging her shoulders. “I’d be proud of you no matter what. I can’t believe anyone would offer to take my place the way you did when Black Kettle was so angry.”

  “I can’t believe I did it, either. It wasn’t planned.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You did it. That’s what counts. I’m so, so grateful. And I’m so sorry you were hurt.”

  Tu
rning slightly to fully face him, Faith put her other arm around his waist and clung to him with a fierceness that surprised her while she choked back sobs. She hadn’t meant to weep anymore, but her emotions were overwhelming.

  “Hey, there’s no need for that,” he said, closing his arms around her and gently rubbing her upper back. “It’s all over now.”

  “No it isn’t. It’ll never be over.” Faith was afraid to let go, to stop drawing courage from his solid strength.

  “Sure it will.” Connell wished he could honestly say that her trials would soon be at an end, but it wasn’t fair to lie to her, even if the truth was painful. “Look, we’ve come this far in one piece so we must be doing something right. Your problems will all work out for the best. And I’ll stay with you till everything is settled.”

  “You—you will?”

  “Of course I will. That’s what friends do.”

  “We are friends, aren’t we?” she asked, swiping away the last of her tears and looking up at him. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting so silly. I don’t usually fall apart like this. When I stop to think about everything that’s happened, I just can’t seem to keep from crying.” She managed a smile. “I don’t want you to think I’m like Charity.”

  “Not a chance,” Connell assured her. “I already know you’re one of a kind.”

  “I am?”

  “Oh, yes,” he drawled, nodding. “When the Good Lord made you, I imagine He realized He’d outdone himself so He stopped right there. One Faith Beal was enough.”

  Silently, Connell added, And in my case, one is probably one too many.

  Faith would have gladly stood in the man’s tender embrace for hours if she hadn’t felt him suddenly tense. She looked up. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know. I heard something out there.”

  “Maybe Irene is bringing the horses back.”

  “Maybe.” He grasped her shoulders to set her away from him. “In which case I don’t suppose she’d be all that thrilled to find us acting like a couple of Cheyennes standing under a blanket.”