Elk Runs kept walking, but French hesitated. He should turn around and investigate the strangers’ campsite, but if Colette really did go this way recently, they couldn’t lose the trail.
Left Standing made the decision for him, calling out from across the river. "Go with Elk Runs. We will see these strange men and their camp and come find you if there is news."
French met his gaze, the determination in the other man's eyes easing his worry. "Thank you, friend."
With a nod, Left Standing turned and led Cross the River and Hawk Wing toward the strangers’ camp.
French focused his attention on Elk Runs, who'd moved on without him, his stride sure and his gaze fixed on the ground as he walked.
He strode to catch up with the man. "If Colette was mounted, should we get our horses too?" If she'd pushed her mare into a run, she could be far ahead of them.
Elk Runs finally lifted his focus from the ground, training his gaze on the mountains ahead of them. "I find tracks better on foot."
The man didn't sound certain, and that lack churned a new round of worry in French. But Elk Runs’s tracking skill far surpassed his own. "Whatever you think is best."
The man started off again, and French lengthened his stride to keep up.
Chapter 21
Colette jerked awake and cringed at the ache spearing through her body. She squinted at the bright sunlight overhead, then blinked as she lowered her gaze to her surroundings.
Nearby, her horse pawed the rocky ground. That must have been the sound that awakened her. The mare was likely hungry and tired of being restrained on the side of this mountain. Her own belly ached for food, and below that, her body complained with a different need. She pushed up to sitting, wincing at the pain in her neck. She had no time to coddle herself though.
After using the rock wall to help herself stand, she peered into the cave beside her. Daylight now allowed her to see a short distance inside. The darkness within made the cave look as though it extended deep into the mountain. But when she took a step in and her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, she could make out the rear wall.
The place was deep enough to provide shelter for her and her horse, if she could get her mare to enter with the low ceiling. But that was as far as the space went. There definitely weren't any wild animals inside, as she’d worried about last night. Though some dirt along the back wall might have come from decayed droppings.
The question was, should she stay here or press on? Maybe the answer would come clear if she explored a little farther around the mountain. From this place, she could only see the boulders of this mountain on both sides of her and the slope of the neighboring cliff opposite. If she could get a glimpse of what lay around the corner of her own slope, she might learn whether she should keep going or wait here until the brothers moved along.
Either way, she had to find fodder for her horse. She almost wished she had left the animal behind.
After heading back out to the mare, she checked the hobbles she'd fastened in the dark, then patted the horse’s neck. “Wait here a little longer, girl. I'll see if I can find grass for you."
She didn't intend to go far but grabbed the bundle of meat to eat as she walked. After taking care of personal needs, she set out around the mountainside.
Up and over rocks she climbed, doing her best to scout paths her horse might be able to travel.
Hopefully.
Some of the boulders might be too tall for the mare to maneuver, but this was the only way forward. As often as she could, she tried to move downhill instead of up. But no matter how far she went, she never seemed to reach the back side of the mountain. The landscape became even more treacherous, and the knot of worry pulled tighter and tighter in her belly.
Her horse would never make it this far. The only way to get the animal down the mountain would be to return the way they'd come up in the night. And she couldn't go back that way yet.
Today, Jean-Jacques would be looking for her. He’d come after her that other time, so he likely would again. And what of Hugh and Louis? If Jean-Jacques or the braves approached them and mentioned her at all, Raphael's brothers would sniff the new scent like bloodthirsty hounds. They would be looking for her tracks, too.
The cave would have to be home for a few days. She'd find fodder to take back to her horse. She'd seen a few scrubby cedar trees along her way that morning. She couldn't imagine the mare eating those prickly needles, but maybe the bark? She'd heard of Indians feeding their horses cottonwood bark all through the winter. Could the same be done with the bark of an evergreen? She could at least try. As soon as she found a few more patches of grass, she would turn back to the cave again.
When she finally found a cluster of scrubby winter-brown grass, a thick layer of clouds had covered the sun. It must be midmorning by now, and as thick as those clouds layered, rain would be coming in the afternoon. Best she get settled in the cave before then.
The one good thing about rain was that it would wash away any tracks she might have left.
That also meant Jean-Jacques would have no possible way to find her. Why did that thought create such an ache in her chest?
She shouldn’t want him to find her. She had to keep telling herself that. Jean-Jacques needed to return to his family. His wife and friends. And she had to focus on creating a safe life for her baby.
She'd have to start over completely, a whole new name this time. Something no one who'd ever known her would recognize.
The thought left her as empty as if she'd not eaten in days. If only she'd never met Raphael. If only she'd waited for Jean-Jacques, no matter how painful the aloneness was. She'd known from the beginning, from those childhood days, that God planned for her and Jean-Jacques to be together forever. Why had she lost faith in His promise, even when she learned of Jean-Jacques's marriage?
Now, she could never have him.
God, don't let the rain come.
French eyed the darkening sky above, then shifted his focus back to the path in front. If there was any sign of Colette through here, he had to find it. Elk Runs was walking on the opposite side of the river, searching for tracks there. French didn't have the same ability with tracking that man did, so he had to work that much harder. If Colette had left the river on his side, he had to find the signs.
He kept a steady pace as he searched, glancing across the river at Elk Runs occasionally to make sure they were tracking at the same speed. How much time had passed since Elk Runs determined Colette's mount rode into the water? More than an hour. Maybe two? With the sun hiding behind the thick layers of clouds, he couldn't tell how long they searched.
His belly grumbled, but that need paled in comparison to the pressure in his chest as he imagined all the reasons why Colette might have run. Elk Runs hadn’t seen any tracks besides those left by her and her horse, so she must have left alone. Had she recognized his description of the men? She'd not acted like she did. He’d watched her carefully, but maybe he'd missed something. Or maybe a new thought had occurred to her in the night.
Lord, help me find her. Show me the truth. Every time Colette was in danger, his desire to protect her always revealed anew his need for God. She made him feel so helpless. So desperate for the help of a Greater Power. This wasn't fair to God though. He had to be all in—or not at all. He couldn’t just keep uttering these desperate prayers in times of fear.
I'm sorry, God. But I need Your help now. Desperately. Help us find Colette. Don't let her get away again. Let me help her this time. Please. And if God didn't? Would French turn his back on the Almighty again?
His foot stumbled on a rock, bringing him back to his surroundings. The ground had changed, and he'd been so focused on spotting hoof prints and working through the turmoil in his mind, he'd not even noticed the increase in stones, or the rise of the bank just ahead so it formed a cliff that rose from the water.
Across the river, Elk Runs had also paused and was staring at the bank in front of French. A few steps ahe
ad, the mountain on their right came all the way down to the river’s edge. The slope grew so steep, French would have to either drop down into the water or cross over to Elk Runs’s side. Colette and her horse wouldn't have been able to scale this mountain either.
He pointed into the river. "Guess I'll wade through the water so I can watch for the place she might have climbed out." At least the river looked shallow enough through here, maybe only knee-deep. He could endure the cold if that was what it took to find Colette.
After sliding down the bank, he sucked in his breath as he took his first steps through the icy liquid. If he stayed close to the side, the surface only came up to the top of his moccasins.
They kept moving, and his focus shifted from scrutinizing the ground to slogging through the water fast enough to keep up with Elk Runs. He finally found a rhythm with each stride, maybe because his feet had numbed enough to ease the icy sting.
A line up the bank on his right caught his eye. It wasn't more than a diagonal striation in the rock, but from the footprints and bits of caked mud, it appeared animals had used it as a trail to climb up from the water.
With his gaze, he followed the faint path up past the top of the bank, along the gentler slope of the mountain. The hill seemed made of boulders, but the animals had found a way to weave between them, climbing over the smaller stones. Could Colette and her horse have managed that climb?
He turned to get Elk Runs’s attention, but the man had already stopped and was studying the path.
French turned his focus back as well. "Think she and her horse could've managed that climb?"
If she had, she must have been desperate. He couldn't tell if any of the marks on the stone were fresh. A glance at the sky revealed that the clouds had darkened even more. Rain would start any minute. If they tried this route and she wasn't up there, they might lose any other tracks farther downriver.
He turned back to Elk Runs. "Should we check it? We might lose her trail if she didn't go this way." The man nodded understanding, but his gaze had lifted farther up, searching the slope far above.
French looked the same way, but from his position closer to the mountain’s base, he could only see partway up. He looked back at Elk Runs, studying him for any sign of his thoughts. Give him wisdom, Lord. Please. Don't let us chase a false trail. Don't let us lose her this time.
At last, Elk Runs nodded. "We go." Those words could've meant either choice, but his actions clarified the decision. He slipped into the water, then trudged across the narrow river toward the steep path.
Maybe French should go up first to make sure the terrain could be navigated. Or would it be wiser to let Elk Runs lead, since he would likely spot markings better? The latter might be the best choice, and should the man slip on the steep slope, French could catch him.
That last thought turned out to be laughable, for Elk Runs was as sure of foot as any mountain goat, scaling the cliff with hands and feet like a squirrel climbing a tree. He didn’t even pause for a rest when he reached the place where the slope wasn't quite as steep.
French did his best to keep up, though not nearly as gracefully. Elk Runs finally stopped partway up. French paused and heaved in air to fill his thirsty lungs. The man was studying the ground, and French blinked to focus on the spot. He'd grown a bit lightheaded, maybe from lack of air as he climbed.
But when Elk Runs pointed to a mark in the stone, what the man saw became clear. A chip in the rock, the kind that could come from a hoof striking. "Not long before."
The white of the marking did appear fresh and would probably be washed away or at least turned dark when the rain came.
"You think it was made by her horse?" Mountain goats and bighorn sheep also had hooves, but were those animals heavy enough to cause a mark like this?
Elk Runs lifted his gaze up the hill. "Not know." And with those words, he started up again.
French gulped in a deep breath, then started after him. Though they may not know for sure, that one sign could mean they were on the right trail. Lead us, Lord. Please.
The first raindrops came after they’d climbed another quarter hour. They kept moving, but French sent another desperate request heavenward. Help us find her before the rain falls in earnest.
If the rock became wet, their path would be slippery. Even dry, the slope was already steep and treacherous.
As the drops fell in steady succession, Elk Runs paused again. French moved up beside him and glanced to where the brave was looking. The rock appeared completely wet now, but he could still see faint signs of the animal path climbing up a large boulder. Surely a horse wouldn't have been able to jump up on that stone.
He wiped the dripping moisture out of his eyes. "What now?"
Maybe this had been the wrong way to go. Perhaps Colette hadn't come this way at all. Don't let her real trail be washed away. They should start back down the slope as quickly as possible so they still had a chance of finding her tracks farther downriver.
Elk Runs pointed to a large boulder. "Game trail goes that way.” Then he motioned to the right. “Horse could go that way." A series of rocks made something like stair steps up and around the mountain.
"You think she did?" It didn't look like many animals took that route, but it could be manageable for a horse. A surefooted, obedient animal.
"We go both ways and see."
French jerked his gaze to Elk Runs’s face. "We should split up?" That might be the best use of time. They could rule out this possibility completely, then head back down the mountain. By then, there would likely be so much rain they could simply sit on their haunches and slide down the slope.
The man nodded and pointed toward the stair steps. "Go as far as you can that way. Meet back here." Elk Runs turned the opposite direction and started to climb the boulder the smaller animals used for a path.
Wiping the water out of his eyes again, French turned toward his own assignment. The faster he moved, the faster they could get back down and find Colette’s trail again.
Chapter 22
Colette huddled inside the cave, pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders as the rain fell in sheets outside. If she had dry firewood, she might chance building a small fire to dry herself and warm up. The rain would surely wash all hint of smoke away.
But she’d carried only grass and bark back from her hike around the mountain, and her horse had downed those as soon as she placed them before her.
The rain had started falling before Colette returned to the cave, so not only had she and her clothing become drenched, her packs had also been soaked. The leather had protected some of the contents, but the outer layer would need to be pulled out and dried. It might take days for the items to dry with the rain-dampened air.
A cold wind had moved in with the rain, and she couldn't seem to stop shivering, no matter how tight she pulled the blanket around her. If only she could have brought a fur or two with her.
At least she had this cave, which was more than her horse had for protection. No matter how she’d coaxed, the mare wouldn't come under the low ceiling. Colette had moved her as close to the opening as the horse would approach, so maybe the rock wall was stopping some of the sideways rain from hitting her. But the animal was certainly drenched. At least she had a thick hide to protect herself.
Another shiver swept through Colette, and she tucked tighter into herself, wrapping the blanket around even more. Her spare shirt was one of the things drenched, so she had nothing dry to change into.
Her teeth began to chatter, and she clenched her jaw to still them. But the quiver merely pushed from her jaw into her body again, racking her shoulders with shivers that wouldn't stop.
Why is this happening, God? Why would the Lord bring her to this place of utter misery? He loved her…she knew that without a doubt. He had a plan for her. But why was His path leading through all these struggles? Had she made a wrong turn somewhere? At what point had she gone astray? Was this misery God's chastisement? Or His way of pushing her
in a different direction? Maybe she hadn’t yet learned the lesson he was trying to teach her.
She replayed the verse from the night before in her mind. I will lead them in paths that they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. She desperately longed for those straight paths and the light in the darkness. Was she not trusting Him enough? Show me, Lord. Peel away the stubborn determination from my heart and show me where I need to rely on You more.
Even as her heart spoke the words, a shiver of fear slipped through her. What would God require of her? To face Hugh and Louis? To make atonement for her sin? Part of her wanted to stop this constant running. To stop this incessant fear of being caught.
Lord, I didn't mean to kill Raphael. It was self-defense. God knew her heart. Surely He knew her innocence better than anyone. Why hadn't He gotten her out of this mess? Show me how to trust You better, Father. Show me what I'm to do, because I can't see it.
She sat huddled in the blanket, watching the rain fall in a steady curtain, trying to let her mind go numb. But that lasted only a few minutes until her belly made its own request heard. The sun must be near the noon mark. Time to eat again.
As she unwrapped the food, a sensation in her middle gave her pause. She stilled, focusing on that part of her body. The feeling had been different than the ache of hunger. More like…something moving within her.
She settled a hand on her middle, finally shifting her gaze down to focus on the area as well. "Is that you, little one?" She brought her other hand up to cup her belly too, cradling the child as she would one day. I hope.
All this running—this suffering—was for a very good reason. For this life growing inside her. A life she would one day hold, and always cherish. Always protect, no matter what came.
A motion outside the cave, separate from her horse, grabbed her attention. She squinted to see through the downpour. Maybe the flash had only been a trick of the raindrops.
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