The face studying her was not Jean-Jacques's dear one, but another she'd come to appreciate too. "Hawk Wing."
She was clutching him tight, and maybe her weakness would expose the fact she was a woman. But her vision hadn't quite stabilized. If she let go, she might topple again. At least this time she could aim better toward her sleeping pallet.
After a few breaths, her vision brightened to normal, and her spinning head settled. Now if she could only hide the embarrassment flooding her neck. She eased away from him and tried to tame her blush with a solemn expression. "Thank you. I guess I'm still weak from the sickness."
He was studying her, scrutinizing, but his face gave no hint of his thoughts. Finally, he stepped back and nodded. "You were very sick."
“I was.” She couldn't deny the truth of his words.
He motioned toward her bed pallet. "Good to lie down."
Yes, it would be much safer to lie down, but she desperately needed to find a bush to take care of other matters first.
Yet Hawk Wing didn't look like he would leave until he knew she was safely seated. So, she eased herself down, moving slowly enough to keep her head from spinning again.
Once she was seated, he nodded once more, then moved to his packs. After scooping up a leather satchel and his hunting knife, he turned toward the path to the river.
When he sent another glance her way, she offered a weak smile. "Thanks for saving me."
His expression softened, then he slipped into the shadows of the woods.
With a sigh, she reached for the bundle containing the meat and pulled out another slice. Hawk Wing really had saved her from more pain. Hopefully, her hands would've kept the fall from injuring the baby, but better not to risk it. Maybe with a little more meat inside her, the dizziness would ebb.
After eating for a few more minutes, she wrapped the food back up and prepared to stand again. This time she only made it to her knees before footsteps sounded through the trees. A sigh slipped out.
Should she sit back down now? Wait for this person to leave before she attempted to stand? Her body may not let her wait that long. Better she move forward now and pray that eating more had helped.
A glance over her shoulder showed Jean-Jacques stepping into camp. Relief eased some of the pressure from her chest.
When he saw her on hands and knees, concern gathered in his brows, and he darted forward. "You need help?"
She gritted her teeth and raised her upper body. Only a bit of gray crept into her vision.
His hand slipped around her arm in a loose hold. "Do you want to stand up?"
"Yes." The word slipped out almost as a growl, since she was straining to push up to her feet. Even with all her effort, she teetered halfway through rising.
Jean-Jacques’s grip tightened on her arm, lifting her the rest of the way up. Holding her secure even when the blackness threatened to close in again. "Colette, are you sure you should be up? Rest a little longer. I have corn gruel if you’re hungry."
A new flood of embarrassment rose up within her. "Need…to find…a tree."
Though she couldn't focus on his face, his silence probably meant he understood. Then his voice came hesitantly. "I'll walk you there. Then leave you alone until…"
Another dose of relief eased through her. She pointed toward the path she usually took to the private spot. "That way."
By the time she finished, the haze and spinning in her vision had left completely. She started back to camp without calling for Jean-Jacques. When she came in sight of the clearing, he was standing at the edge of camp, looking her direction with as much anxiety as a pup locked behind a fence, waiting for its master to return.
He strode toward her the moment he saw her, and she let him take her arm, though she couldn't help adding, "I'm better now."
She could no longer trust her body, so it might be good to have him by her side. If only she weren't always so weak in his presence. She wanted him to know the version of her that could be strong and capable. Wanted him to love that person as much as she'd always loved him.
But that was a dangerous line of thinking, a desire that could only end in a new round of heartbreak.
She pulled away from his hold. They were inside the clearing now, and only a few steps from her bedding.
He stood nearby as she took those last strides and eased down onto her blankets. Maybe plopped was the better word. With her treacherous balance and the weight now beginning to bulge in her belly, there was nothing graceful about the way she sat.
He turned toward the fire and added more logs. "I have corn meal ready to make a warm gruel for you. I thought you might like something other than meat, and it would be good for the baby. Something to fill you both up." He didn't look her way as he spoke of her unborn child, but he said the words so casually, as if the babe were a normal part of his thoughts and conversation.
"I started to wonder though,” he continued, “do you think the corn gruel made you sick before?" This time he did glance her way with brows raised. "You said you thought it was bad meat, but you’d eaten mush that morning, so I wasn't certain."
She shook her head. "I think I know what meat it was. My belly started to complain not long after I ate it on the trail. I threw it out then."
He raised his brows with a slow nod. "I see. Do you and the little one feel up to corn mush then? Wish I had some fresh milk to pour into it." He shrugged in that boyish way he used to.
The memories that gesture brought back slipped through her, lightening her mood and tugging a smile over her face. "Sounds perfect."
While he worked, she took the opportunity to watch him. To soak in this man she'd loved for so long—as far back as she could remember. Maybe even from that first day they’d met, when he found her working in the garden. And now as a grown man, he stirred her insides in a way no one else ever had. Not even Raphael.
Maybe she had loved her husband once, or maybe it had been only infatuation. When she met Raphael, she'd given up on ever having Jean-Jacques, though it had taken her two years after mama shared the news of his marriage. Raphael had seemed like a good second choice. Funny and attentive—and recently come from France. That point had been a strong one in his favor for Mama. And her parents’ approval had been a strong point in his favor for Colette.
The early days of their marriage had been trying sometimes, but that was always the case when two people learned to make a home together. They'd finally settled in and found a rhythm. Maybe if she'd been able to stop missing Jean-Jacques, she could've given her heart completely to Raphael.
But then Raphael's father had died. At first, he'd grieved in a way that seemed normal. He’d not been on good terms with his father in several years—none of the brothers had, since the man often let his temper guide his words. But after his death, Raphael mourned the fact that they'd never reconciled. She'd not realized about his drinking at first. Looking back, she could see it had started much earlier than she’d thought.
By the time his personality began to change, she had no idea how to stop it. She tried everything she could to help him.
She prayed. First, for the Lord to help him stop drinking. For the Heavenly Father to bring peace to his grieving heart. She prayed for God to amend their marriage. For Him to make her forget Jean-Jacques. For her love for her old friend to fade. For her heart to want to love Raphael, no matter what he said to her. No matter how hard he made their lives.
And then when she learned of the baby, she’d cried out for God to give her wisdom. So much of her feared raising a child with the man her husband had become. But what could she do? She'd wed him in God's sight, taking holy vows.
Then on that life-altering night, the decision had been made for her.
But not really. Surely, she could have found a way to stop Raphael's manic advance without striking him with that metal bar.
Or, if she’d just hit him in a different place.
Or not so hard.
"Here you go." Jean-Jacques’s
words drew her from the dark thoughts. He crouched before her, a bowl of corn mush in his hands.
A burn crept into her eyes as she took in his earnest face. The concern tugging at his expression. Jean-Jacques was there. And looking at her the way he always had, with earnest affection in his eyes. The way he did in her dreams, both the waking ones and the night dreams that had come so often. Her Jean-Jacques.
She wanted to reach out and touch him. He was near enough that she could pull him closer—close enough for their lips to meet.
The thought splashed through her like icy water, bringing with it a deluge of eye-opening fear. There was one very important reason why she and Jean-Jacques could never be together. Not just because of what she’d done. Not just because she carried a child that wasn't his, a babe sired by the man she'd killed.
It was more than both of those good reasons. She wouldn't make the same mistake again. She simply had to guard herself with the most important reason. To brace it in front of her like a shield against this man. She raised the shield now. "The other night, when those men were here. They gave you whiskey?”
His expression shifted, and he seemed to draw away. Just a little, but at least he was moving in the right direction. "I…think it was whiskey. Some kind of strong drink."
As she'd known. But the confirmation helped strengthen her defenses. "And you drank it?" How could he not have? His father had been a drunkard, even more openly than Raphael, even at the end. That weakness would be in Jean-Jacques’s veins too.
Chapter 16
Colette watched Jean-Jacques’s expression as she waited for his answer.
His look turned guarded, then he shook his head. "I didn't. I think most of the others did, but I'm not certain about Left Standing."
Liar.
Raphael had lied, especially at the beginning. Later on, she didn't waste time asking if he’d been drinking. She knew all the signs.
Jean-Jacques was watching her, and maybe he saw the disbelief in her eyes.
His brow lowered, then his tone gained an edge of frustration. "I waited with the others for you to come to camp after dark. I kept stew ready for you, then planned to make sure you weren't bothered by the newcomers and could bed down in peace.
“When you didn't come for so long, I went looking for you. I searched all the way down our snare lines, then back up the river. I checked with the horses, but you weren’t there either. I remembered that place where I’d found you resting before, and when I found the spot again, there you were.
“You were sleeping and even had a blanket and your gun. I decided the best way I could help was by keeping an eye on the men at camp." His jaw grew solid. As though her lack of belief angered him. "I stayed up until the others had all bedded down or drunk themselves to sleep. Then I made sure I was up with the first riser."
That was anger on his face, but there seemed something more. Something deeper in his eyes—not at all like rage. Hurt? The last thing she wanted was to hurt this good friend.
Could he be telling the truth? His moment-by-moment recounting matched what she knew to be true. He could only have known where she slept if at least that part was real.
She studied his face for a long moment. God give me wisdom. Help me discern truth from lie.
As she ran her gaze over the nuances of his expression, his sincerity settled inside her. No inner voice warned against believing his story. Are You sure, Lord?
A deeper peace pressed through her.
This was only one instance, but maybe he wasn’t as drawn toward vile drink as she’d assumed.
She nodded. "Thank you for watching out for me." Those words sounded paltry considering all he’d done these past few days, so she tried for more. "And for everything else. For finding me, staying with me, and helping me ride back." Heat crept up her neck unbidden at her few memories of him on the return journey. She couldn't seem to stop blushing this morning.
The wariness and that hint of anger slipped from his expression, and the smile lines at his eyes deepened. "I'm glad I was able to." He nodded toward the bowl in her hands. “Eat up. That little one needs everything he or she can get to grow strong and healthy."
She lifted the bowl to drink from it like a cup, even as another smile curved her lips. Yes, she loved the way he brought the baby into everything. Especially with the warmth that slipped into his voice when he spoke of the child.
Jean-Jacques moved to his pack, and she closed her eyes as the warm gruel slid through her, filling her insides with its soothing goodness. As the sound of his steps came near again, she opened her eyes.
His gaze twinkled as he moved past her and eased down to sit on the blankets beside her. That was just like him, to intrude into her life without an invitation. Yet she was always so glad he did.
As he settled in, she glanced at what he held. A block of red cedar and a small carving knife. "What are you doing?"
He flipped the wood over to show an arc he'd been scraping. "Working on a spoon." He nodded toward the bowl in her hands. "To go with that fancy dishware."
A laugh bubbled through her. "You always have been more cultured than me."
Now was his turn to chuckle, but his didn't hold as much merriment. "Not hardly."
Comfortable silence slipped over them as she swallowed another bite of corn mush and he chipped slivers off the cedar. A spoon really would make eating easier. She should've thought of making one earlier. She’d never attempted to carve, but it might be fun to try, if she had a blade as small as Jean-Jacques’s.
"I spoke with Young Bear this morning." His voice broke the quiet, crashing through the peacefulness with words that clenched in her belly.
“You spoke with him? About what?" Surely he wouldn't tell her secrets. But what else could he mean?
He glanced at her. "I didn't tell him anything. I just… Well, I’ve been thinking for a while that these men must have seen through your disguise. I wanted to get an idea of how much he knew. I asked him how long he'd known you, and he started talking from there."
Thoughts swirled through her, churning with the fear that rose up from her belly. "Started talking about what? What did he say?" If her cover no longer held up, she'd have to leave these men. She wouldn't be safe here.
Where else could she go? Strike out on her own? The thought made the nausea rise up to her chest. The corn gruel she’d just eaten might soon reappear.
"Colette, it's all right." Jean-Jacques raised a staying hand. "He said he realized when you asked to join with them that something wasn't right. He has three daughters of his own, and he would want someone to help them if they were in need. He said that's why they let you come along. The other braves think of you as a sister and want to help you too."
His words were slow to penetrate, but her mind clung to the one—sister. Could that really be true? They all knew the truth and wanted to protect her?
It seemed too good. Too unlikely for a group of men. But maybe God had led her to these very people for protection. She'd sensed that from the beginning, but she’d thought her disguise was an important part of her safety among them. Had the Father truly managed it all?
He certainly was capable of it. The Almighty didn't need her help to manage the world and weave all things together according to His plan. I'm sorry, Father. How could I have been so prideful? She'd not seen it that way before, but the entire picture came clear now.
She took a moment to soak in the sweet presence of the Lord. He was so good to her. Why did she work so hard sometimes to override His blessings?
Finally, she turned to Jean-Jacques. "Do you trust them?” She was pretty sure she did, especially Young Bear. And his word seemed to go far with the others. But she valued Jean-Jacques's opinion.
He gave a slow nod. “I do.”
Good. "I think I do too.” She inhaled a calming breath, then released it in a puff. “Now…since everyone knows the truth, I suppose I don't need to pretend anymore. At least with them." Her mind raced through possible scenarios.
"I should probably still dress as I have in case we meet others."
The moment the words slipped out, she replayed them in her head to see if she'd given away anything about her trouble. About Hugh and Louis. Would her need to hide from strangers make Jean-Jacques suspicious as it had before?
She slid her gaze toward him to see if his face showed signs that his thoughts had gone that direction. But a smile was tickling the corners of his mouth.
He saw her looking, and his grin widened. “Those clothes didn't stop me from noticing you’re a woman."
Another flush swept up her neck. "That's because you knew me before." She hoped that was the only reason he'd seen past her disguise. At least his mind hadn't gone the other direction.
But then his expression sobered. “If you're worried that you're in danger, Colette, you don’t need to fear. I promise to protect you. Dress like a man if you want to, but I won't let you be hurt. You have my word on it."
Nausea swirled in her belly again. He had no idea what he was saying. If Hugh and Louis found her, they would kill her. She had no doubt. Hugh had killed before, and for far less reason than the need to avenge his brother’s death. If Jean-Jacques got in their way, he would be in as much danger as she was.
She would have to make sure he wasn’t around if they found her. At the first sign of Raphael’s brothers, she would run—far and fast.
But for now, she needed to focus on this conversation and her next steps with the others. "I guess I need to say something to the men. To thank them for helping me."
Jean-Jacques gave a thoughtful nod. “I'm sure they would appreciate that. Might be a good way to clear the air. We all want to help you, and the more we know of what's going on, the better we can prepare."
She couldn't tell him anything more, but better to make him think he knew everything. As for the others, it wouldn't be safe for them to know about the baby yet…would it? Men tended to be uneasy around a woman with child. They might make her leave or try to send her back to one of the northern forts. She couldn't risk it.
Faith in the Mountain Valley Page 12