With a sigh, he gathered his own belongings. Colette had already started toward camp, so he lengthened his stride to catch up to her. He'd love to change out of these clingy wet leathers, but he'd have to go someplace private to do that. He certainly wasn't subjecting Colette to such an embarrassment, even if he rigged a changing screen.
He caught up with her as they stepped through the trees to the campsite clearing. Colette stopped short, and his bundles slammed into her back before he could stop himself. She didn't stumble forward—something had her rooted too deeply to the ground.
He moved beside her to see what she was staring at, tensing to drop his load and grab his knife if danger threatened. The braves should be here though. Surely they wouldn't allow a threat to linger.
The sight before them made laughter rise up in his belly, but he clamped his jaw before the sound tumbled out. He was helpless to stop the grin though.
Left Standing, Hawk Wing, Elk Runs, and Cross the River had all stripped off their tunics and leggings—leaving only breach clout—and were in the process of hanging the garments on tree branches. Young Bear had removed his tunic and was bent over to pull off a moccasin. He carried a small middle-age paunch, and the way he was leaning revealed more than was seemly beneath his breach clout.
French stepped in front of Colette to shield her from the view, but another belly laugh pressed up. He should be appalled…really he should.
And he was for Colette’s sake. She was probably mortified, even in her manly garments. But these men were doing nothing untoward for their culture, especially since they thought the company was all male. Or…maybe they saw through Colette’s disguise.
Either way, Colette had planted herself squarely in this position through her own devices.
But he had to do his best to protect her from anything more than she'd already witnessed. He glanced back at her, and relief slipped in when he saw she'd already turned away. "Why don't you head back to the river? The rain’s mostly stopped, but take this fur to shelter yourself.” He spoke French and kept his voice low so the others didn't question why he was sending her away.
"Will you hand me my pack beside my bedroll?" Colette, too, kept her voice low, but it held a bit of growl. Her face had flared bright red, at least the part he could see.
He strode toward their covered bedding, dropped his load beside his other things, then lifted the fur atop her belongings. Hopefully, her pack contained other clothing she could change into. Else, she'd be as miserable as him in these wet buckskins.
When he handed the satchel to her, she jerked it from his grip and nearly ran back through the trees.
He finally let his chuckle slip out as he watched her go. Then he turned back to put his things away.
But when he glanced at the Indians, Young Bear was watching him. The man's expression gave away nothing of his thoughts, but he was definitely considering something.
Did he think Colette's sudden shyness strange? What else had he noticed?
Jean-Jacques had settled into their group so seamlessly, Colette finally stopped letting worry tie her insides in knots. He wouldn't tell her secret. At least, not the one he knew—the fact that she was a woman.
Jean-Jacques had always kept her confidences. The only thing that kept her from telling him more now was the fact that anything could slip out when a man put himself under the influence of that demon they all seemed to love—alcohol and all its forms. She'd seen it happen more times than she cared to remember, especially with the man she’d married.
Raphael had told her things she didn't want to know during his binges. About the men he’d cheated in his work. The times he’d sought out other women after a few drinks too many. He cried and begged for forgiveness, all while sloppy drunk. She’d learned well that no man could be trusted when whiskey took over.
And with the way Jean-Jacques’s father had overindulged so often, he was probably more susceptible to the power of strong drink than most men. She'd heard more than one person say tendency toward drunkenness ran in the bloodline.
So she couldn't tell Jean-Jacques her secrets. Besides, part of her couldn't stand the thought of him hating her for what she’d done. She despised herself enough, even though she’d not intended that awful act. She'd only been protecting her babe.
But that didn't change the outcome.
This was the third day since Jean-Jacques joined their camp, and now he was off searching for fodder to add to their meals. That was another thing she'd quickly come to appreciate about his presence. He actually spent time thinking about the food he would cook, about ways to do his work better, no matter how humble the task. He went out of his way to find more variety and plants to use for seasonings. He’d become a better cook than she’d thought a man could be.
Raphael had certainly never cooked, and neither had her father. She’d not spent much time around the other men at Fort Pike, save for trips to the trade store and occasional passings outside of fort walls.
But Jean-Jacques didn't mind doing what she'd always considered women's work. He did it well, with pride.
He’d ridden his horse on this trek away from camp, so perhaps he planned to go far. She'd use the opportunity to seek out her hidden spot for a nap. The baby was seeping even more of her energy, for at times she could barely keep her eyes open.
The sun shone brightly, and though she didn’t fall asleep, she could lie here and enjoy her thoughts.
A nicker sounded in the distance from the direction where the horses were hobbled to graze. Had Jean-Jacques returned already? Perhaps he’d found a plentiful gathering of the plants he sought and harvested them quickly.
She’d better rise and head back to camp. If he caught her sleeping, he would wonder why. Even being worn out from scraping hides all morning wouldn't cause this much exhaustion in a healthy person.
Another whinny sounded, and this time an answer came from farther in the distance. That must be Jean-Jacques's mount.
She sat up and dusted the grass from her hands, then took up her rifle and the blanket she’d brought to lay on. After fixing her hat atop her head, she stood the easiest way she’d found—by moving to her hands and knees first, then working up to standing. She still had at least four months to go, maybe closer to five. Moving about would only get harder…and then everything would change completely.
She gave herself a quick moment to rest her hand atop her belly as she started through the trees toward camp. Are you happy in there, little one? Grow strong and healthy for me. I can't wait to meet you.
It didn't seem real, the fact that she would finally have her own babe to snuggle. She’d dreamed of it in her early days with Raphael. But this wasn't at all the way she’d imagined.
Voices sounded from the direction of the horses, and she strained to pick out Jean-Jacques's. One of the other braves might be with the animals too.
The words were spoken in French, but not Jean-Jacques's smooth cadence. The voice was gruffer, as though the man smoked tobacco often. None of the braves could speak the French language so fluently…at least they hadn't in her presence. Had a stranger come?
Fear clutched her, and she stilled.
Had Hugh and Louis found her? The voice didn’t sound like either of theirs, but maybe they traveled with others. Perhaps they’d brought a whole posse to help their chase.
Her entire body tensed with the urge to bolt. But she needed to be wise about this. First, she had to know for sure who the newcomers were. Maybe these were other strangers she should be wary of. If she looked too spooked, she might draw unwanted attention. She couldn't give up her current protected situation unless Hugh and Louis really had found her.
She stepped toward the voices, walking softly so she didn't make noise, and doing her best not to look like she was creeping, in case someone caught sight of her.
The voices continued, and she made out a few words. The man was saying they’d been riding down to a lake they'd heard about past the Rocky Mountains. They planned to sp
end some time trapping there and would it be all right if they bedded down here this night?
She paused and strained to hear the response. Was Young Bear there to answer?
The senior brave’s voice rumbled deep and steady, and the sound swept a bit of relief through her. If what the stranger said was true, Hugh and Louis weren’t with him. She'd only have to keep her distance from these men for a night, then they'd be gone.
But she had to make certain the men spoke truth—that her brothers-in-law weren’t part of the group.
As Young Bear used his halting French to tell the men they could share the campfire, she crept closer, shifting from tree to tree.
The forms of men and horses could barely be seen through the trunks, and the bright sunshine in the clearing where they stood made their faces blurry. Hopefully she was deep enough in the shadows no one would spot her as she scooted from one pine to another.
At a sturdy trunk wider than those around it, she paused and peered around the side. Now she could make out features on the men.
They were dismounting, three that she could see, with six horses, counting their pack animals.
None of their grizzled faces matched that of Hugh or Louis. It'd been a while since she'd seen Hugh, the elder, but there was no way he could have aged as much as any of these men.
She stayed behind the tree, bile still churning inside her as the men unloaded. They removed pack saddles and riding saddles but didn't unstrap supplies from the pack saddles. Hopefully that meant they planned to ride out first thing in the morning.
Soon, they'd walk toward the camp. Did she want to be there first? No, better to watch from a distance to make sure they weren't hiding anything.
There was always a chance they’d met Hugh and Louis along the way and been given her description to watch out for. Her hair had given away her disguise to Jean-Jacques. It would likely do the same for these men too.
She should make herself scarce until closer to nightfall. Then maybe she could find a way to cover her hair before joining the others at the campsite.
From everything she could see, the men were hiding no secrets. She stayed in the shadows long enough to watch them drag their things into the clearing next to the rock cliff, then she moved away from the sound of their voices as they spoke to Left Standing and Young Bear.
Maybe she could keep an eye out for Jean-Jacques and let him know of their guests before he was surprised in camp. She could also let him know she wouldn't be coming back until dark. That way he wouldn't worry, and hopefully he would cover for her.
That plan helped ease the knot in her belly, and she started toward the river. Maybe she should even saddle her horse and ride to find Jean-Jacques. The thought of sitting on that hard saddle again when she didn't have to made her calluses ache where they'd formed over blisters. Besides, the men might return to the horses and find her there while she saddled her mare.
She strolled upriver instead.
She'd not explored beyond their area. Hadn't had the energy to, in truth. But there was no way she could nap now with strangers wandering around.
As she walked, she surprised a covey of birds, which flew up in front of her. A little farther along, a group of three mule deer grazed in the tall grass. Their long ears always made their bodies look small, so it was hard to tell the ages of these for sure. But they looked like a full-grown doe and two yearlings.
The animals eyed her as she stopped to watch them. A real trapper might use this opportunity to bring in another hide, but their camp didn’t need meat, and she had no desire to disturb this group. They were beautiful and showed their trust in her by not darting away at her presence.
After several minutes, the deer perked their ears in the opposite direction. She strained to see what they saw. Grassland stretched beyond them for about thirty strides, then a cluster of trees. Something must be coming through the woods.
Whatever was approaching appeared to be more threatening than they'd found her to be. In another heartbeat, the animals darted away, leaping in fluid bounds. She'd never thought them as pretty as the white-tailed deer, but this graceful show proved her wrong.
She refocused her attention on the distant trees, raising her rifle and pressing the butt to her shoulder so she could aim and fire quickly if needed. As the men had said, bear should be out of hibernation by now.
A moment later, a figure on horseback appeared through the shadows. She dropped to her knees to make herself smaller, not as obvious. This grass was low enough that she couldn’t fully hide even if she lay flat, but from this position, she could shoot easier.
If this was one of Raphael’s brothers, she would only wound him, and only if it came down to it. She wouldn't take another life, no matter what. She already had enough guilt to last a lifetime.
Chapter 8
As the horse and rider stepped into the sunlight, relief swept through Colette.
Jean-Jacques. Of course it was him…she'd been waiting for his return. The strangers at camp simply had her on edge. With her arms full of blanket and rifle, she pushed to her feet and waited for him to reach her.
He arrived with a grin, that old familiar Jean-Jacques smile that brightened every day, no matter the weather or how badly things had been going before. She tried to keep her own grin tucked inside—better this man not know how he affected her—but it was no easy thing, and her face might have betrayed her a bit.
Reining in right in front of her, he jumped to the ground. "Came out to meet me?" He sounded pleased with himself.
"Sort of. I needed to stay out of camp, so thought I'd explore this area."
He pulled the reins over his horse’s neck and turned to her with raised brows. "What's happening at camp?" A glimmer slipped into his eyes. No doubt he was remembering the scene yesterday where they'd come upon the braves nearly exposed. She pushed the memory away, but not before heat surged up to her ears.
To cover her embarrassment, she scowled at him. "We have visitors."
His face lost all hint of pleasure. "Who? People you know? Indian or white?" His voice took on more tension with each question. Then his expression brightened. "Did my friends follow me here?"
She replayed the men’s voices in her mind, then shook her head. “I don't think so. It's three white men. Frenchmen. They're heading to a lake south of us, and Young Bear said they could camp with us overnight.”
His mouth pressed in thought. Then he nodded. "Well then. Let's go meet them."
She stepped to the side and motioned for him to pass in front of her. "You go on. I'll be back to camp around nightfall."
His brows lowered, and his voice took on a hesitation. "Are you hiding from someone, Colette?"
Her heart thundered in her ears. She hadn't expected him to jump to that conclusion, only that she wouldn't want her gender to be discovered. She couldn’t let him know the awful thing she’d done. Better to redirect him. Of course, that might be a challenge without actually lying.
She shrugged. “I thought it might be easier to appear as a man after dark. Better not to chance their suspicion in daylight.”
He rolled his lips as he seemed to be considering something. What if he pressed more? She should send him on his way before he had the chance.
She motioned toward the path back to camp. "I don't mean to stop you though. Go meet the newcomers. See what you think of them. Maybe you've even seen them before." He'd said he'd spent quite a while trapping and traveling.
After a beat, Jean-Jacques nodded. "All right. Signal me if you need anything. An owl hoot or…" A grin broke over his features. "Do you remember our secret sign?"
Warm memories soaked through her. She couldn't help an answering grin. "A crow's caw." She'd lived for that sound. Its shrill cry always meant hope and pleasure in her younger days.
He nodded, then opened his mouth and made a soft caw, caw sound.
A giggle slipped out, more from his pleased expression after the noise than anything.
Her laugh turned
his smile a bit silly, as though she'd brightened his day. He reached up and tweaked the brim of her hat. "Call me if you need anything. Anything at all." His voice became tender with those last words, making her want to lean into him.
Instead, she simply nodded. "I will."
Watching Jean-Jacques walk away left an aching knot in her throat. If only she could be free to come and go as she wanted. Not always fearing discovery or the threat of who might suspect what.
Eventually this would change. She just had to press on through these hard months ahead. She would make it. For her child, she would summon the strength to build a new life.
There wasn't much to do now. She couldn’t go back to camp yet, and strolling farther away no longer held a draw now that Jean-Jacques had returned. And she was still so weary, her eyes longed to close.
She had her blanket and rifle, so she moved forward to the patch of trees Jean-Jacques had ridden through and found a smooth place near the shelter of the branches. Her hungry belly would wake her by nightfall if nothing else did.
She must have needed that sleep, for by the time she awoke, dusk was settling over the landscape. Jerking upright, she scanned the area around her for any sign of movement. Any threat. Nothing stirred save a gentle breeze in the grass and the steady flow of the river.
Her belly gnawed at her insides, reminding her it had been far too long since the meat she ate at noontime. She should have brought her possibles satchel that contained more food, but she'd only planned a short nap in her hiding spot near camp.
A few more minutes and she would start back toward their fire. This would be a good time to check her traps, but she had no way to reset them without her pack that contained the bait. Still, maybe she could at least retrieve the catch. Or better yet, she could call Jean-Jacques to bring her pack and knife.
Pushing up to her feet, she blinked against the dredges of sleep that still clung. Straightening so quickly made her vision darken, but after a moment of stillness, her sight returned to normal. With her rifle in one hand and her blanket in the other, she started downstream.
Faith in the Mountain Valley Page 6