His expression shifted into something she couldn’t decipher. “I’m not.”
What did he mean by that? Not sorry to see her at her worst? Pleased to be with her at all? So many things she wished he meant, yet she couldn’t ask him to clarify. Not when she couldn’t even meet his gaze anymore.
Instead, she forced a cheery tone as she pushed up to her feet. “Hungry? There’s a bit of stew left.” And not much else. But she kept that last bit to herself.
“I am.” He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving the front of his hair mussed in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it. Instead, she turned to focus on the food. “Where’s Griz?”
“He left earlier. Probably went to find his breakfast.” His deep, sleep-roughened voice sent a shiver through her core. “Guess I’ll do some hunting after I eat.”
“That would be good.” At least her words came out steady.
After Daniel hunted, Noelle cleaned the two hare Daniel bagged and slogged through knee-deep snow to ready the horses. The sun shone brightly by the time they finally started northward. So bright, the glare from the snow made it almost impossible to see, even through a tight squint.
They rode as far as they could before taking a break to rest the horses and eat a bite. As she sat and chewed jerked meat, Daniel rummaged through the pack on the back of her mare.
“What are you looking for?” She should rise and help him, yet her weary legs simply wouldn’t allow it. Astounding how riding seemed harder than walking sometimes. Especially up, down, and around the steep mountain slopes.
He didn’t answer until he found what he sought, refastened the pack, and trekked through the snow back to her. He held out a glass jar, one of those mixed in with the medicines, yet the inside of this was black.
“What is it?” She peered at the container as he removed the lid and scooped out a fingerful of dark cream.
“Paint.” He swiped the stuff across one of his cheekbones, then the other.
She could only stare. Was he turning Indian before her eyes? Perhaps this shift in his mental state was a delayed reaction to the lightning strike. “What are you doing?”
He turned to her. “Black paint stops the glare of the sun from blinding.”
Relief eased her muscles as a breath seeped out. “Wish I’d known about it. I would have put the stuff on hours ago.”
He dropped to his haunches in front of her, raising his finger as though he planned to apply it to her face.
She leaned away. “I can do that.”
“I’m already messy.”
His words made sense, so she forced herself to sit perfectly still as he reached toward her again. The paint felt cold, sending chill bumps down her arm. Although that may have been from his touch. His nearness.
She glanced at his face, her gaze meeting his eyes. Locking with them. He held her fixed with those piercing brown orbs. How could he look so deep within her and still know where to apply the swipe of black paint?
When he finished both cheeks, he still hadn’t broken the connection of their gazes. His eyes softened, slight creases forming at the corners. “You are so beautiful, it hurts sometimes.” His voice rasped as though he felt that pain now and had to drag his words through the ache.
A knot of emotion clogged her own throat, and she was only able to force out his name. “Daniel.”
He sucked in a breath, pulled back, and rose to his feet. “I suppose we should move on.”
As he turned away, he took another piece of her heart with him.
BY THE END OF THE NEXT day, snow leaked once again from a heavy sky. Daniel eyed the impending darkness, then peered down the slope. There had to be a place to camp that offered at least a little protection. No trees littered this incline, only snow-covered mounds that signaled rocks. They could clear snow in front of one of the boulders and try to set up a lean-to using an oilskin and their supply packs, but they didn’t have enough dry wood with them to last more than an hour.
The only other option was to keep riding through the dusk and into darkness until they found tree cover.
He glanced back at Noelle, her chin ducked into the folds of her coat so only her eyes showed through the blowing snow. “We need to ride until we find trees for shelter. Can you keep on?”
She nodded. “I’ll follow where you lead.”
Of course she would. By her presence alone, Noelle inspired him to be better. Or at least to want to be better.
They started down the slope, navigating around mounds which were likely rocks. With deepening darkness creating shadows everywhere, he stayed near sections which seemed completely unraised. Sometimes that meant skirting around a large area, but better slow progress than a horse with a broken leg.
After a half hour, inky darkness had settled over them, the land as still as death except for steadily falling flakes. At least the wind wasn’t gusting as much.
He glanced back, but Noelle’s hood cast shadows to hide her face. “Still all right?” For some crazy reason, he needed to hear her voice. Needed to know he’d not led her to her grave on this treacherous night.
“I’m well.” Was that the chatter of teeth that made her words quiver? Or just the movement of her horse?
“Another half hour and we should reach trees.” If his gauge on distance was correct, they were about midway down this barren slope.
“Good.” Definitely her teeth chattering. He had no way to warm her though. Nothing to do but push on. Every step brought them closer to shelter.
Refocusing his attention on the snow ahead, he reined Pauper left to avoid a sudden shadow. The gelding obeyed, his trust another gift to be thankful for. Fiesty horses could be deadly on an incline like this.
A squeal sounded behind him. A sharp cry. Daniel whirled in the saddle, jerking Pauper around. Griz barked an alarm.
Gypsy had sunk to her knees in snow, Noelle tumbling forward over the mare’s neck.
“Noelle!” He leaped from his horse, nearly crumbling in the thick snow. He scrambled forward, slogging through the mess with hands and feet. Everything in him strained to reach her.
Finally, he and Griz arrived at her side. Or rather, the crumpled mass of coat that was her. “Noelle.” He found her shoulder and rolled her over so he could see her face.
Her eyes flickered open, sending a flood of relief through him that made him want to wrap her in his arms. “Are you all right? Anything broken?”
She grimaced, as though something ached. But then she shook her head, although a wince soon froze the movement. “I’m well. Nothing broken.” Her jaw quivered, making her teeth chatter. Griz moved in closer to sniff her face, as though checking for himself whether she was hurt.
Daniel pulled him back to focus on Noelle. “Let’s get you out of the snow.” Hopefully the buckskins had kept her dry. Otherwise, they’d have a time getting her warm as the temperature continued to plunge.
He helped her stand, and she seemed to bear her weight. Yet her body shivered as she tugged her coat tighter around her. He pulled her close and rubbed her upper arms with a brisk touch. “Can you stand alone for a minute while I check your horse?”
She nodded. Her teeth were probably chattering too hard for her to speak.
He turned to Gypsy, who stood with all four feet spread, her head down in the snow. “Hey, girl. You all right?”
A quick visual sweep showed no open cuts. He took her reins and led her forward a few steps. She limped hard, not putting any weight on her front left leg. When he ran his hands down the limb, the heat emanating from her knee explained the reason. She must have bruised it. Hopefully that was all, and there wasn’t something torn inside.
Either way, Noelle couldn’t ride her.
Turning back to the woman, his chest tightened at the way she was visibly shaking. He had to get her to a fire. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. The icy wetness must have reached her skin.
“Maybe we should set up camp here.”
&nb
sp; “There’s n-n-no cover f-for the horses.” She was right, but maybe he could get her more comfortable. “I c-can walk.”
He turned her toward his gelding. “Climb up on Pauper.” He helped her into the saddle, then stroked the horse’s neck. “Stick your hands under his mane. He’ll help you get warm.”
She obeyed without a word. After tucking the gelding’s dense mane over her hands, he turned back to the mare. He stroked the thick hair on her neck. “Think you can walk, girl? Just a bit farther, then we’ll rest.”
If the horse couldn’t stay behind them, he’d have to leave her here and come back for her. Which meant hours before he’d get the mare to shelter, not to mention at least an hour or more that he’d be leaving Noelle unattended while he saw to the animal. If Gypsy could possibly travel with them now, they had to make it work.
He took the reins and urged her forward, guiding her toward the gelding. After the first few steps, her limp seemed to ease a little. She would slow them down, but maybe she could go at least part of the way.
With the reins in hand, he climbed aboard the gelding behind Noelle, then nudged him forward. They started slowly, and the mare didn’t fight against this pull. After a few steps, she seemed to settle into the gelding’s easy stride.
Noelle hadn’t stopped shaking, her whole body consumed by the action. He could only wrap one arm around her because his other hand held the mare’s reins, but he snuggled as close as he could. Maybe he should stop to pull some of their furs from a pack, but he hated to halt their forward movement now that he finally had both animals walking together. He’d have to warm her himself.
Travel was painstakingly slow, and he had to strain to find the best path to take. Noelle leaned into him, tucking herself against his shoulder in a way that both warmed her and made holding her easier for him. Although having this woman gathered into his arms would never be hard.
“You doing all right?” With his face pressed into her hair, he had only to duck for his words to reach her ear.
She nodded, her eyes flicking up to his, but she didn’t lift her nose and mouth from the crook of his shoulder.
“Just snuggle close. We’ll be there soon.” How soon, he couldn’t say. But he had to keep her hopes up.
The darkness and the barren, snow-covered hill seemed to go on forever. The mare trudged behind them, as though resigned to her fate.
Noelle didn’t shake as violently, but her weight on his arm seemed heavier than before. As though she were asleep. He jerked at the thought. “Noelle? Wake up.” No response. He couldn’t let her sleep, not being so cold. That was the first step in freezing to death.
He jiggled his arm. “Noelle. You have to wake up.”
She slowly raised her head, looking around with a sleepy, bewildered expression.
He dropped the gelding’s reins for a second to brush the hair from her eyes. “You have to stay awake now. You’re too cold. Can you feel your hands?”
She looked down as if trying to find an answer. “I don’t think so.”
A fresh surge of fear speared him. “Tuck yourself back against my shoulder with your hands in front of you, but don’t go to sleep.” He scrambled for something to say that would keep her awake. “Have I ever told you about the winter my father met my mother?”
Her response was an indecipherable mumble, but he took it as indication to tell the story. If he’d thought before speaking, he would have chosen a different story. Too late for second thoughts now.
“It was fall of the year. My mother was traveling through the Canadian territories with her aunt and uncle, who were her guardians after her parents died. Their son was stationed at one of the forts, and they came to visit him.
“My father was an interpreter and guide for the soldiers and trading parties. He found my mother’s party a few miles outside of the fort during a blizzard. The first words he ever spoke to her were, ‘Get on my horse, mademoiselle, and don’t fall asleep.’”
Her back shook as though from a chuckle. At least the story was keeping her awake.
“He got the rest of them on horses and strung the animals together, one behind the other, then mounted the horse with my mother and set off. They made it back to the fort, my mother curled in his arms. He talked to her all the way to keep her from going into a frozen sleep.”
Noelle burrowed deeper into him. Was she thinking about the way his parents’ story ended in marriage? What she didn’t know was the final ending. The part where his mother died from the effects of another blizzard just six years later. And that time, his father hadn’t been able to save her.
Which was exactly why he had to deliver this woman to her brother, then ride away. He couldn’t fail the way his father had.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nothing had gone as planned, yet God is my Refuge, an ever present help in trouble.
~ Noelle
NOELLE FOUGHT TO STAY awake, struggling to focus on what was happening around her. A scraping sound, sharp and quick. Then again. Was that Daniel building a fire?
She blinked, forcing her eyelids back open. The haze of sleep pulled stronger than she had strength to fight. Yet Daniel had insisted she not give in.
Even now his voice penetrated the fog. “Stay awake, Noelle. You’ll be warm soon.”
He made more noises. Sounds she couldn’t decipher, and it was too hard to try. Her mind wandered back to the story he’d told during the ride. That was the first time he’d spoken of his parents. He’d not said whether his mother was English or French, although either was possible from the way the two countries had fought over the Canadian Territories through the years.
The gentleness in his voice when he spoke of her had been captivating. He must love her very much. Were his parents still alive? She’d have to ask him. Later. When staying awake didn’t require so much effort.
More noises sounded behind her. A rustling, gentle and lulling. She bit down hard on her tongue to jerk herself away from the edge of slumber. She had to do something to keep her mind alert.
What Scripture had she been trying to memorize? Something in Psalm. Something about searching. Search me, O God, and know my anxieties. She’d skipped some words in there, but the word anxieties jumped out at her. Know my anxieties, Lord and take care of them. Please.
A blanket landed over her, and she forced her eyes open. It was a fur, actually. Her buffalo hide that she slept with. Then another one. This was the coarser hair of the bear skin Daniel used. He stepped into her line of vision, kicking at the snow, clearing a wider circle around her.
“Can I help?” Her words slurred as if she’d spent a full day in a tavern.
“Nope. Just getting settled in.” He scraped his foot across the ground once more, then bent low to adjust the fur she lay on.
She tried to watch him, to keep her focus strong, but her eyelids drifted shut as a new wave of shivers wracked through her.
He tugged at the skins covering her, and she was too weary to ask what he was doing. Then his strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Into his warmth. The furs tucked around her again, but this time it was as if she’d been enclosed in a heated room, with a warming pan underneath her.
She pressed closer, snuggling deeper. Maybe now she could finally let sleep enfold her.
A CLATTERING SOUND pulled Noelle from sleep. Daylight showed a world of white, but it was not quite so cold as when she’d given in to sleep.
Another noise sounded behind her, and she turned inside the mass of furs to see what was happening.
Daniel stood before the leaping flames of their campfire, positioning a log. His gaze lifted to her, concern glimmering in those brown depths. “Are you warm enough?”
“Much better.” As long as she didn’t let anything peek out except her eyes. “What about you?” He only wore his usual fur coat and hat. How could he stand there without freezing?
“Cold doesn’t bother me as much as...some people.” He seemed to stumble over the word some, as though that
wasn’t what he’d started to say.
She studied him. “Why not?”
He toed a log, maybe debating his words. “I suppose it’s the Indian blood. Indians don’t feel the cold as bad.”
Curiosity surged inside her, but she pressed it down. “On your father’s side?” From the story he’d told the night before, his mother sounded like she’d come from the east, either French or English.
He looked up, maybe surprised she’d been listening so well. Then he nodded. “He was Métis, the name given in the northern country for half Indian.” His gaze seemed to shutter, as though he was guarding himself from her reaction.
What did he expect her to do? She’d long wondered whether a bit of Indian blood ran in his veins. He carried himself so much like the other braves they’d met on this journey. One fourth Indian made sense.
“Which tribe was he from?”
“Blackfoot. His father a French trader. His mother a squaw. There are many like him.”
He didn’t seem eager to end the conversation, but nor did his voice carry the easy strains she’d come to know and love. More like a man whose mind was set on a task he found distasteful. Why would he feel he had to tell her these things? His ancestry didn’t change him in her eyes. Each part of his past had helped form him into the exceptional man he’d become.
“Did you ever know your grandparents?”
He shook his head. “Death claimed them both when my father had not yet become a man.”
Her chest squeezed. “How hard. For him and for you. I was blessed to have my mother’s parents near until I was twelve.”
He reached for another log from a stack beside him, then positioned it on the fire. As much as she craved knowing more about this man now that he’d finally cracked the door open to his past, he was likely hungry. And she needed to get started on the day if they were to cover much distance.
This Courageous Journey Page 15
