Gathering her things didn't take long. She still needed to dry the wet items in her pack, but that would have to be done later. Would she ever have the chance? She pushed that thought back and took out a bit of smoked meat to eat on the way.
Once everything was packed, she turned her horse and stroked the animal’s neck. "If by some miracle we get out of this alive and I get to keep you, girl, you're going to get a name."
The mare bobbed her nose as though agreeing. Although, maybe she was only hungry.
“Let's get down this mountain, then I'll let you graze a minute." But not long, because two men's lives could be in danger.
Leading the mare around the side of the mountain wasn't as challenging in daylight as it had been during the night. But once they maneuvered the stone steps and descended the mountain goat trail down the slope, she began praying in earnest for their safety. Don't let us tumble down these rocks.
Not many horses would have ventured, slipping and sliding, down that stone face. Either the mare trusted her far more than she deserved, or the animal sensed that this was the only way off the rocky peak.
They splashed into the water, and her horse stumbled, going down to her knees in the river. She scrambled back up to her feet, though.
They both stood in the flowing water, heaving in deep breaths, thankful to have made it intact.
Now came the hard part.
They had to trudge through the water a little way before the spot where the opposite bank was low enough to climb up to the grass. Colette walked beside the horse through the river instead of riding. The mare had endured enough already without carrying her against the current’s flow.
Once they finally reached dry ground, she let the mare graze a couple minutes. Then she gathered her reins and climbed aboard. "You can graze more when we get back to camp."
The horse seemed eager enough to stretch her legs, so Colette pushed her into a lope over the grassy stretch. Soon, though, trees hugged the bank’s edge, and they had to rein down to a walk.
Anxiety pulsed through her, knotting her belly with fresh worry. Part of her itched to ride faster, regardless of the terrain. Hugh and Louis might die if she didn’t reach them in time.
But the rest of her wanted to spin the horse and run as fast as the mare could travel—away from the two who demanded recourse for their brother's death. She could hide by the river, where Jean-Jacques would come looking for her. When he returned, they could head west.
But she'd run too many times these past months. She wouldn't let fear control her any longer. She had to do this.
She kept her attention focused ahead, searching for signs of Jean-Jacques or anyone else. On horseback, she should reach him long before he arrived back at camp, even though he might be running.
She never saw him, though, and as she reached the first of his snares at the farthest end of their trapping area, a new worry pulsed through her. Had she missed him somehow? Or had something happened to him? Maybe he'd fallen down the rocky slope and been knocked unconscious…or even killed. The water could have carried his body downriver. Lord, no.
She had to push these thoughts away. Surely God wouldn't have reunited them at last only to separate them forever. He wasn't so cruel, was He? Maybe Jean-Jacques had run the entire way and was already with the braves. With all the lean muscle he possessed, he could have managed it. If he'd been impressed with the same worry for Hugh and Louis that twisted through her, maybe that urge had driven him.
A cluster of trees stood several strides away from the river, and she pointed her mare toward them. She could hobble the horse behind the grouping and let the mare graze while Colette went ahead on foot. Better to keep herself hidden until she knew what was happening.
The horse crunched hungrily in the thick grass as soon as Colette fastened the hobbles and removed the bridle.
A quick departure shouldn’t be necessary. She wouldn't be running anymore.
Would Hugh and Louis let her return with them to the fort and receive a proper trial, or would they kill her then and there? If she did go north with them, would Jean-Jacques follow?
Yes. She had little doubt of it. Thank You for him again, Lord.
Leaving everything with the horse except her rifle and shot pouch, Colette crept forward, staying away from the water’s edge but moving upriver in the direction of camp. Staying this far back would allow her to see any activity before she was spotted. Hopefully.
There was no sign of anyone. She came all the way abreast of the path from the river to their camp, but no one was working in the scraping place by the river. Had she really expected them to go about their business as usual?
Elk Runs had said he would make sure all was well. Did that mean he would push for bloodshed so Hugh and Louis couldn't come after her? She'd seen Hawk Wing, and sometimes Cross the River, show their tempers. Left Standing had been her champion, translating for her and sometimes letting his façade drop enough to show her the warmth of friendship. Would he be even more loyal than the others—to the point of bloodshed?
She had to learn where they were. Would it be better to check the braves’ camp first or follow the river up to where Hugh and Louis had bedded down? If all was peaceful, Young Bear and the others might be working or relaxing around their own campfire. It would be better to look in the clearing beside the cliff first.
Easing away from the trees protecting her, she bent low as she strode to the river. Where was Jean-Jacques? She still hadn't seen any sign of him. Maybe he was also at the camp with the others, packing their things and saying a final farewell.
Of course. That would be why no one worked in the scraping area. They were all gathered to see Jean-Jacques off. If not at camp, maybe the men would be with the horses.
She used the familiar stones to step across the river, probably for one of her final times. She'd used this route more often than she could count over the past weeks. This time in the valley had been a blessing in so many ways—the rest, the chance to reunite with Jean-Jacques.
And now the clarity of purpose for what she must do next.
Her feet traveled the barren path through the woods toward the braves’ camp. She strained to hear voices, but no sounds drifted from ahead. The men must be with the horses.
Even as her heart pounded about the other possibility—the very bloody prospect—she refused to let her mind travel there.
As she reached the edge of the trees, she peered into the clearing that housed their camp. All appeared almost as she'd left it in the night, except that men no longer slept on their pallets. Had that really been less than a day ago? That fear-filled flight seemed another lifetime.
She stepped into the clearing and scanned her things. Everything was in its place. Jean-Jacques's belongings seemed untouched as well. Even his bedding still lay out, with the top cover rumbled.
He'd not come to pack up yet.
A new frisson of fear washed through her. Could her wild imaginings be true? Lord, protect him. Show me what to do to help both Raphael's brothers and Jean-Jacques.
She wanted desperately—again—to turn and sprint back the way she'd come.
But this time to search out Jean-Jacques's wounded body. She forced herself to stay put. She'd come this far to help Hugh and Louis. She had to fulfill her mission as the Lord had prompted and leave Jean-Jacques in God's hands.
Along with her baby. God, would You really take everything I love?
She couldn’t let herself dwell on that thought. Trust meant not snatching back the reins every time worry spiked.
She refocused on the packs and supplies in the clearing. Everything seemed to be here, although she didn't see any of the braves’ weapons. They must be carrying them all. Her heart thumped harder in her chest and she turned toward the path leading to the horses.
Moving as quickly as she dared, she strained for any motion or sound from ahead that signaled people. When she neared the clearing where the horses grazed, a flash of brown showed through the trees.
The figure might be one of the animals, but it could be a man wearing leathers.
She eased from one tree to the next, straining to see more each time she darted forward. Those were horses. When she'd reached the edge of the clearing, she paused behind a trunk and peered around to count the animals.
Two…four…five. All the horses except her own mount stood there.
No men among them.
She lifted her gaze upward, above the tops of the trees on the other side of the clearing. Jean-Jacques had said he saw the smoke from that direction.
No smoke drifted from that way now. There did seem to be the faintest scent of woodsmoke in the air, though that could have come from their own smoldering campfire behind her.
There was no other place to look. She had to advance forward and find where Hugh and Louis had camped. The braves must be there. The thought clenched the knot in her belly even tighter.
She started across the clearing, gripping her rifle tight and sending up a steady stream of prayers as she walked.
"Colette."
With her thoughts so intense, she nearly missed the whispered call. The moment the sound registered, she spun to find its source.
Behind one of the horses, a man straightened.
"Jean-Jacques?"
He wasn't hurt. Relief soaked through her.
She strode toward him, and he pressed a finger to his lips in silence. Though he came around to the front of the horse, he stayed by the animal, seeming hesitant to leave the cover it provided.
When she reached him, he opened the arm not holding his own gun, and she came into his hug. She soaked in his familiar scent as he held her tight.
His breath ruffled the hair at her ear. "What are you doing here?"
Reality pressed in, and she pulled back to see his face. "I can't let Hugh and Louis be hurt because of me. More bloodshed won't make what I did right. I don't know what Elk Runs and the others intend to do with them, but I have to face this."
She expected shock to cover his expression. Or maybe worry, or anger, or…anything but the grim determination that settled over him. "Are you sure?"
Part of her wanted to be affronted by the fact that he didn’t try to stop her. Didn't he care she might be killed, or at the very least, might have to stand trial for her actions? What about the baby? Lord… Her spirit strained, the weight of fear pressing so hard. Yet she had to do this.
She nodded. "It's the right thing. I have to trust that God will protect me—us."
Jean-Jacques’s eyes drifted shut as a pained expression twisted his face. He didn't make a sound, and finally he opened his eyes to meet her gaze. "I felt God nudging us that direction too, but I couldn't stomach it. I told Him that He’d better take it up with you if that was His leading."
If not for the fear twisting her belly, she might have smiled. The Lord had just confirmed His guidance, and she loved the way Jean-Jacques was open to His voice. Please don't let me lose him.
"I think they must be at the camp." He motioned upriver toward where he'd said Hugh and Louis were staying. "I can't find anyone elsewhere."
She inhaled a strengthening breath as she nodded. "I thought the same. You know the best way to approach so we can learn what's happening?"
Jean-Jacques nodded as he stepped forward. "Stay close and walk quietly."
He took her hand and led the way. She savored the feel of his strong, calloused palm. This might be the last time she would ever hold his hand.
Chapter 26
French had never experienced so much pride and fear twisting through his gut at the same time.
He was leading Colette toward an unknown danger. How could he not only allow her to put herself in this position, but lead her willingly toward men who probably sought her life?
He had no idea the character of Raphael's brothers. Were they the kind of men who would hurt a woman? Maybe not. Though the fact that they'd come this far to find her…that didn't bode well.
He and Colette crept along the edge of the woods beside the river. Neither of them spoke, and the grass silenced most of their footsteps. But his heart thundered loudly enough to be heard across the water.
Voices sounded from ahead, the low murmur of deep undertones. Young Bear's speech possessed that rumble, but he couldn't be sure.
Colette’s grip tightened in his own, and he gave her an encouraging squeeze. No matter what came, they would face it together. And if the men tried to atone for their brother’s life by taking hers, he wouldn't allow it.
She'd not killed the man with malice aforethought. Back in Montréal, the act wouldn't warrant the death penalty. Would these men abide by civilized laws? There weren't any such regulations in the vast territory of Rupert's Land where they'd all lived, nor here in the Idaho Territory. But surely they could be made to see reason.
As they crept closer, another voice distinguished itself. Left Standing, though he was speaking the Blackfoot tongue, and French couldn't hear well enough to interpret.
One silent step at a time, they moved forward. He kept a solid grip on his rifle with one hand and Colette with the other. Maybe he should have the gun raised and aimed, ready to shoot.
But Colette had said no more bloodshed. Was he really ready to place her life completely in the Lord's hands? God, help me. Help us both.
Another voice rose now, louder than the others and more passionate. Hawk Wing, for certain. French strained to make out words. Something about an animal, but the man's outrage made the sounds more staccato than usual. Through the trees ahead, he glimpsed motion, but couldn't identify figures.
They had to get closer. Once he could see what was happening, he might understand the conversation better. At least it sounded like no harm had come to Young Bear, Left Standing, and Hawk Wing. He didn't really expect that the two Frenchmen would be able to harm five braves, especially when these Blackfoot had probably had the advantage of surprise. But it was still a relief to know his friends hadn't been harmed.
A few more steps, and he finally reached a place with a view between the trees that showed him the activity in the camp. He jerked to a halt as the scene came clear, and his heart seized.
Two white men were tied to trees and looked so much rougher than they had the evening before.
The younger—Louis?—was positioned nearest him and Colette. A gash marred his temple, with a line of blood dripping down his face. More crimson leaked from a line across the boy's throat. Someone had pressed a knife there, hard enough to draw blood. Thankfully, not deep enough to sever an artery.
The other man, Hugh, was tied a few trees away from his brother. The fellow's hair had been mussed so it spiked in several directions, with leaves and grass mixed in. He was already gathering a good-sized black eye but didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere.
French shifted his focus from the captives to the others in the clearing. Hawk Wing, Young Bear, and Left Standing were clustered together, talking. Elk Runs and Cross the River stood a little apart, focused on the white men like guards.
Left Standing murmured something, but the idea didn't seem to please Hawk Wing, for he jerked his head away and spat toward Hugh. He spoke a string of louder impassioned words, and French focused on the sounds to decipher them. Something about a woman.
Colette pressed into his side, and French shifted to allow her a better view. He wrapped his arm around her waist, as though he could hold her in safety that way.
But he couldn't. He had to listen for the Lord's leading in this. Had to be willing to follow that prompting, no matter how awful the direction seemed. Show us, Father.
Colette sucked in a breath just loud enough for him to hear, and her body stiffened under his hand.
The captives did look awful, especially at first sight. Louis must have fought a great deal to be so roughed up. But then, if French’d had a brother, he would have given his life to protect him. And would have wanted justice for his death.
In response to Hawk Wing’s rant, Young Bear bit out a sharp "no"
in their tongue. That, at least, French could decipher.
Hawk Wing’s face twisted in a rage fiercer than anything he’d seen from the man. The brave spun with a piercing yell. Raising his knife in the air, he charged Louis.
Another voice bellowed. Hugh writhed against his bonds, twisting. He struck out with both feet.
One caught Hawk Wing’s knee, throwing the brave forward so he had to scramble to catch his balance.
With another roar, the Indian spun on Hugh and charged him with the raised knife.
A scream erupted, and Colette jerked from his arm.
Before French could stop her, she charged forward into the clearing. He dove after her.
"Stop!" Her scream pierced the melee.
Hawk Wing spun to face her, every eye turning with him to stare at Colette.
She jerked to a halt in front of the men. "Stop. Don't hurt him."
Hawk Wing slowly lowered his knife and straightened. "They come to hurt you."
French stepped up beside Colette even as she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "I will speak with them." Determination hardened her voice.
He glanced at the two white men. Louis stared at Colette with eyes wide, as though seeing a vision. Even Hugh looked a bit shocked at her sudden appearance.
Then the older brother’s expression turned wary. "You know these men, Colette?"
She nodded, her chin still lifted in a way that made her look just like a French princess. "They are my friends. They've given me shelter and protection since I left Fort Pike." Her gaze turned tender as she scanned the braves around the clearing.
Then she looked back at the two. "I’m so sorry about Raphael. I never meant to hurt him. I was only trying to protect—" She bit off her words.
Did she not want them to know about the baby? Something about that didn't sit right with him. These men deserved to know they would have a niece or nephew.
Just as Raphael should have known he would be a father.
Another layer of pain pressed on French’s chest. As much as he wasn't sure how he felt about the man, the fellow should have known his child. What would it be like to raise the baby in his place? Could French be the papa he wanted to be and speak of the child's blood father with respect?
Faith in the Mountain Valley Page 19