She loved Silas Harden. She was his.
And he didn’t want her.
They plodded along the last mile of ever-thinning snow until the white on the trail vanished as if it had never been. The going was still too steep for a camp, but once they dropped into the tree line, Belle found a reserve of strength without the wind that deepened the cold.
Silas checked over his shoulder to see if she was still with him. With the moon and stars overhead, she could see him as clear as day, even in the mottled light of the forest. She nodded, and he smiled and turned back to the winding trail. At last they reached a plateau that was level and had a water supply.
Silas rode his horse to a sheltered spot under an overhanging cliff and dismounted with Emma in his arms. He jerked his bedroll off his horse, and with a few flicks of his wrist, he had Emma settled, asleep on the ground. Belle was still trying to swing her leg over the back of her horse when Silas was at her side.
He lifted her down, and when her legs buckled, he kept one hand on Sarah and lowered Belle to the grassy floor. “Just rest,” he whispered. “Let me get Sarah settled and I’ll help you with Betsy.” He led the horse a few steps away so a nervous movement wouldn’t allow them to trample Belle.
Belle heard the exhaustion in Silas’s voice and forced herself to sit up and, with clumsy fingers, lift Betsy around to the front. Betsy was wide awake when Belle uncovered her. The quiet baby made sounds of distress that reminded Belle the child hadn’t eaten or had her diaper changed for hours. Belle saw to the diaper.
Silas was by her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to a felled log to rest her back. “You feed her and put her to sleep. I’ll get a fire going and see to the horses.”
Belle nodded dumbly, and as soon as he stepped away, she nursed Betsy then tucked her little girl back into her blankets for the night.
She awoke briefly as Silas eased her from a sitting position to the ground. He murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you through this, baby. You’re the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.” It might have been a dream, but she thought he pressed his lips to the top of her head as he eased her close to the fire. And she must have been dreaming when she heard him whisper, “I love you.”
Silas moved away to his lonely side of the camp, and as she dozed off, Belle wondered briefly if she’d heard it but convinced herself he was talking to Betsy. Of course he was. Betsy was a baby after all, and who wouldn’t love her? But why say that when the baby was sound asleep?
She wished with everything in her heart that he would have said those words to her. And she wished she had the nerve to say them back. He deserved to know how much she loved him.
Though she was too tired and too afraid to say any of it out loud, in her dreams she told him everything in her heart.
CHAPTER 20
I love you, Silas. So much.”
Silas sat up on his bedroll, stunned.
“I’ve never known a man as strong.” Her voice slurred.
But Silas could hear every word. “You’re so steady. So smart. I wish I’d married you. Not the others. Only you. Love you. Love you so much.”
Narrowing his sleep-heavy eyes, he couldn’t see Belle in the dim light. She was talking in her sleep, or maybe it was a stupor rather than sleep, but she’d said it. And that meant she’d thought it. And, whether she’d ever admit it or not, somewhere, some part of her had those words to share.
He was so thrilled he would have asked her to marry him right then and there—except she was fast asleep, and he was tired all the way to his bones. He forced himself to lie back down, and within seconds sleep dragged him under.
He jerked awake to see stars hanging like an explosion of diamonds high overhead. The moon was low in the sky. Dawn would begin to blot out the stars very soon.
Every muscle in his body objected and every sensible cell in his brain hollered, No! but he held his eyes open anyway.
God, I almost killed my girls yesterday. I’m sorry I forced them through that. But it had to be done.
He knew from the conditions last night that they’d never have gotten through today. Silas thought of how battered his girls were and how they’d bedded down for the night closer to unconscious than asleep. He thought about the glazed look in Belle’s eyes as Silas added to her burden by making her carry Sarah. He remembered the heart-wrenching sight of Emma’s wrists strapped to her saddle. The only reason he didn’t break down and cry was because he was a man. He got mad instead.
He aimed his anger at himself mostly for staying that extra day to help Lindsay when she had three able-bodied men to see to her needs while Belle only had him and three young children to boot. But Silas had needed to be sure there was a roof over Lindsay’s head. Whether or not it was smart didn’t matter. He’d had it to do and he’d done it.
He spent awhile raging in his mind at Belle’s worthless husbands. They were lucky to be dead and beyond his reach, or he’d have hunted them up and beaten them within an inch of their lives. Fury built in him at Belle, too. She hadn’t needed to choose such a hard road for herself and her girls. She could have easily stayed in Texas, even if she didn’t stand to inherit a ranch. Her pa would have made sure she got by, even with that no-account husband. And she could have just left it to the worthless bum of a husband to eke out a living while she stayed to a woman’s place and cared for her children.
When he was in full mental rant at Belle, he knew it was exhaustion talking, because everything about her spoke to his heart. Every tough, courageous choice she made touched him all the way to his soul. He’d finally worked up the nerve to tell her he loved her last night, and she’d said the words back. Trouble was, he hadn’t realized his feelings until they came out of his mouth. He should have married her in Helena. Instead, he’d still been stuck in his fool notion that he didn’t want any part of marriage.
Now they had trouble. Silas couldn’t think of a way to marry her and still get back to the ranch ahead of the snow.
He could do it without shame now. He might have been a coward before, but no more. His days of running were over, and with Belle at his side, he’d never need to run anyway. She was tough enough to handle whatever came along.
And he had plans that would make him worthy of her. But he needed to do that work before he could present himself to Belle as a husband fit for her and the girls. Of course, Belle would go ahead and marry him most likely. She’d shown a bent for marrying all and sundry.
The right thing to do would be to take her home, climb out of that valley of hers any way possible, then come courting in the spring. But spring seemed like an eternity away. No matter how Silas worked it around in his head, he couldn’t fit a trip to Divide for a preacher into their plans before the long Montana winter shut down on their heads.
Maybe once they were home, if it looked like the weather was going to hold, they might make a run for town. But they didn’t dare ride away from the place and leave the girls, and they didn’t dare take the whole family out and leave the herd.
Silas thought again of his girls’ hard lives and got angry all over again. And that was just as well, because nothing else could have kept him awake.
Today wouldn’t be so brutally hard, but it would be hard enough. They had to press on and get close enough to the pass near the Tanner Ranch to get over it the next day. They’d come twenty miles from Lindsay’s valley, and that valley was nearly fifteen miles from Helena. They would ride forty miles today because the going was better, but the day had to start now, and it had to last until well after dark.
That left ten miles of clawing their way straight up and down the mountain that sheltered the Tanner Ranch at the same time it cut it off from the rest of the world. He knew that what they passed through yesterday was a sign of things to come. The gap into Belle’s place would still be open, he hoped, but it was just a matter of time. There was a lower pass on the south end of the Tanner Ranch, but they’d have to ride three days around the mountain to get to it, and by
then it might be closed off.
No, they had to make the north pass today or tomorrow or a winter storm could lock Belle away from her ranch for the whole winter. And Silas knew Belle. He knew the stuff she was made of. He knew she’d do whatever it took to get home. If it meant risking her life and the lives of her children, she’d scale that mountain on her belly in snow that’d bury Goliath and get home. The woman didn’t have an ounce of backup in her. His only goal was to get her there before it came down to life and death.
Throwing back his blanket, he rolled to his knees, aching in every joint, and crawled to the fire. He stirred up the flames and had coffee going and the horses saddled before he woke his girls. They moaned and groaned, and Sarah cried and begged him to leave her alone. Silas could have let it break his heart to hear his sturdy female ranch hands whining up a storm, but he teased them and called them lazy. It didn’t take long until their grit kicked in.
They were on the trail an hour before first light. As soon as the first blush of dawn brightened the sky, Silas set the pace at a ground-eating trot. They switched their saddles to fresh horses twice during the morning, never letting up the pace. The horses seemed able to trot along forever as long as they got a break from the weight of a rider.
“Silas, we’ve got to walk a spell,” Belle yelled from behind Sarah and Emma.
Wanting to snarl at the delay, Silas knew this was for Betsy, not Belle. Belle never asked for a break for herself.
They walked along for close to half an hour, Silas careful not to look back but smiling at his unlikely cowhands.
“Let’s move out,” Belle hollered as soon as the little tyke was returned to her carrier.
Silas pushed on again.
They made a quick cold lunch, and Silas insisted the girls walk briskly around the little clearing he’d found so their abused muscles would loosen up some. “Let me carry Betsy for a while, Belle.”
She shook her head.
Silas caught her chin. “You know how bad it got last night.” “Betsy’s my responsibility.”
Silas looked over at Emma and Sarah, walking along briskly, out of earshot. “Please, can you just this once mind me, woman?” Belle’s eyes flashed. “Mind you?”
Smiling, Silas said, “Nice to see you’ve still got some spunk.”
He stole a long, deep kiss. “You’ll probably end up with Sarah and Betsy both by nightfall. It’ll be all I can do to handle Emma. This will help you save your strength now.”
Looking bemused by the kiss, Belle said, “Okay,” and handed the baby over.
Silas decided he’d remember this method for persuading the stubborn woman. It would be his pleasure to convince her to do things his way from now on.
“I’ll give her back come feeding time.” He took the carrier and strapped it on his own back. “Girls! Let’s hit the trail.”
By late afternoon, Belle had taken Betsy back for a while. Then Silas retrieved the baby during a saddle switch.
The horizon filled with the last mountain they needed to climb. Silas knew it was still far away, but he watched it loom over his head and wondered how they’d ever scared those cattle up and down this twisting trail.
Just as the sun set, they started climbing from the base of their last obstacle. Silas considered laying up to sleep right then, but he felt the lowering sky and smelled snow in the wind, and he wasn’t bold enough to stop and dare the winter to swallow them up.
An hour later, no more than a quarter of the way up this massive climb, Silas saw Sarah’s head bob forward. He lifted her out of her saddle over feeble protests.
As full dark came over them, they reached a level spot that would have worked for a camp. But the horses were jumpy and Silas was, too. He saw the fear in Belle as she looked over her head at the sky. Looking behind her, she saw darkness pile on top of the stars. They slowly blinked out, and the moon disappeared behind the encroaching snow clouds.
Silas dropped back and yelled over the rising wind, “We’ll be riding all night, but I don’t think the weather’s gonna hold till morning. Let’s change saddles again and try to make it to the top and over.”
Even in the darkness, Silas could see the dark rings around Belle’s heavy-lidded eyes. She nodded her head. “Let me take Betsy. Sarah’s enough for you.”
The woman was pure heart, with more guts than any man Silas ever knew. Silas dismounted, lay Sarah down, and dragged Belle off the saddle, lowering her to a sitting position. He made sure she had a firm grip on the baby; then he eased Emma off her horse. He changed the saddles, handed out some beef jerky, and got them mounted up. Emma looked about all in, but he didn’t think Belle had it in her to carry Sarah as she had the night before, so he left Emma riding alone. Betsy rode on Belle’s back because she’d need to feed the little girl. Silas carried Sarah in his arms. Belle was so tired she was actually just taking orders at this point. Silas decided to enjoy it as it wasn’t likely to happen again.
They started the frisky mounts up the trail. The horses smelled the storm, or maybe they knew they were close to home, because they seemed to be as fresh as if they had just started the day. The lively horses roused Belle and Emma somewhat, and they fell into line behind Silas. Every few steps he checked to make sure they were still with him. As they reached the halfway point on the climb, snow began to filter down from the sky, and Silas pushed the horses harder, knowing that when the snow accumulated it would make the going slippery.
But it wasn’t soft snow like they’d had on the high ground. This was heavy. And it was coming from behind them, snowing even in the lowlands. Snow could come by the foot up here rather than by the inch. Add in drifting winds, and the pass still high overhead could be closing up even now.
His mount nickered and fidgeted, sending the metal in its bridal clinking. But it was a good horse and it minded. Silas remembered a series of dead drops near the peak where they’d lost a few head of cattle who stumbled at the wrong time. He wanted to get past those before the drifts started to form.
The snow began to collect until it covered the horse’s hooves with every step. They trotted on through shelter where the snow hadn’t covered the trail, along wind-whipped cliffs that cut through their woolen clothing, along rock faces that rose high overhead, and caught every flake of snow, dropping it down and deepening the going.
Silas looked back steadily, worried about the womenfolk. Time to time he’d see Belle pull little Betsy off her back and tend to her. Silas knew Belle wouldn’t neglect her baby, but he couldn’t quite imagine how the woman managed to feed and change a baby without once getting off her horse.
The last of the stars were blotted out as the clouds moved ahead of them. The wind rose until it whined eerily among the thinning trees.
Silas looked back to see Emma tying her hands on the saddle again. Behind Emma was Belle with their horses strung out behind her.
Silas dropped back. “Give me your reins.”
Emma looked up, her blue eyes vague, her lids heavy. She didn’t obey him. In the normal course of things, Emma would have refused to let anyone do anything for her. But right now, Silas was sure she disobeyed simply because her head was too foggy from exhaustion to understand his request.
He unwound the reins without waiting for her to respond and guided her horse. This time he didn’t carry her. He didn’t think he had the strength.
As they climbed higher, the wind cut more sharply as if to punish them for daring to be abroad in this weather. Silas caught himself dozing. Scared to his boots because the sheer drop-offs that were so treacherous were just ahead, he grabbed a handful of snow off a rock and smeared it on his face. He was already so cold he barely felt it.
“Belle!” Silas looked behind him. Emma sat with her head bowed forward, almost certainly asleep. But he had her reins. He could control her horse. But Belle had to be alert.
Belle didn’t respond.
“Wake up, Belle. Listen to me,” Silas hollered. The trail was too narrow for him to drop back.
The wind was so high his voice barely carried. “Belle Tanner, you stop lazing around and wake up and ride that horse!”
He continued shouting until Belle lifted her head. With a jerk, she looked around and realized how dangerous the trail was. Her hands tightened on the reins. “I’m awake.” She shook her head. “Lazing around?”
Silas thought he heard a little spitfire in her voice. Well, if calling her lazy didn’t set her off, nothing would.
“I’m paying attention, Silas.”
“You’d better be, woman,” Silas shouted back. He kept shouting pure nonsense, whatever his thick head could think of, about the cold and the climb and the cattle. Anything to keep himself and Belle going. Finally sure Belle and even Emma after a while were alert, he rode on, talking with them, making his voice carry above the wind.
They were tough women, and they worked as hard as he did to keep their group going, encouraging each other and pushing each other to go on, even when sometimes it didn’t seem like the next step was possible.
Then suddenly, they were at the summit.
“We made it!” Silas shouted and looked back to see Emma and Belle crane their necks to see ahead in the darkness.
“We’re home!” Belle smiled, pure triumph.
“Home.” Emma spoke more quietly, but she squared her shoulders and looked down to realize she didn’t have her reins anymore. She looked up, straight into Silas’s eyes. “Thank you.”
He felt more than heard those words. They filled his heart until his throat clogged with something that could not be tears.
Mary Connealy Page 49
