Faith's Mountain Home

by Misty M. Beller

  Heat flushed his face. “I appreciate the kind intention. I’m afraid I overslept this morning. Didn’t make it to the service on account of my laziness.” At least he’d been able to spend some long overdue time with his own Bible, although he’d missed singing hymns with the others and hearing the reverend’s thoughts on whatever Scripture he chose to speak about.

  She loosed a light chuckle. “Laziness is not a quality I’d ever lay to your account. I’m sure oversleeping was God’s way of forcing you to rest, especially with your arm injured.” She stepped toward the doorway he was fairly certain led to the kitchen. “There’s plenty of food left. Come have a plate when you’re ready.”

  “Actually . . .” He spoke quickly before she disappeared through that doorway. “I was going out to check on the Indians in the cave. I came here first to see if anyone wanted to accompany me.”

  Mrs. Bradley’s hand went to her middle. “Micah would want to go, I’m sure, but he was called to visit some patients on the east side of town.” She darted a glance toward the wall where Laura’s and Aaron’s chamber doors both stood closed. “I’m sure Laura would do almost anything to go. She’s not been very patient with her injury this time around.” The woman’s face turned rueful. “Micah hasn’t approved her to walk without the sticks yet, but I know for a fact she’s doing so anyway.”

  Laura’s door pulled open. “I want to go.” The woman herself stepped out, walking sticks under each arm and her coat hanging from one hand. “Ingrid, did you say you have food set aside for them?”

  Nate had to bite back a chuckle at the determination on her face. In fact, that was the first time he’d wanted to laugh all week.

  Mrs. Bradley strode toward them. “I do, but you’re not going out to climb a mountain, Laura Hannon. Mr. Long can take what I’ve packed.” Then she turned her ire on him with raised brows. “For that matter, you don’t need to be traipsing over those rocks again right now, either. I’m fairly certain my husband told you to rest for a week.”

  He almost stepped back from the glare shooting from her eyes.

  Thankfully, Laura stepped forward, reaching to place a calming hand on her friend’s arm. “Ingrid, please. It’s up to Nate whether he feels capable of going to visit our new friends. I’m sure that if he does, he’ll be very careful. I know I will be.”

  The way she made it sound like a casual parlor visit made his mouth twitch, but he kept the smile hidden. Mrs. Bradley clearly didn’t find humor in the comment, based on the frown she leveled on Laura.

  “You shouldn’t walk all the way out there, even with walking sticks. Not only would the distance wear out your ankle, your arms would be raw.” Concern wove through her tone, raising the same sensation in his own chest.

  Maybe he should tell Laura she couldn’t come. As much as he wanted her to be with him, to spend as much time with her as he could, doing so at the cost of her comfort would be selfish.

  But before he could open his mouth to say so, she spoke. “Maybe we could take the horses again.” She looked to him, the question lingering in her gaze.

  His gut plunged. He’d splurged on the cost of renting them from the livery that first time, but Laura would need a mount even more now. Unless he told her she couldn’t come. “Of course. If you’re sure you’re able.” He should clamp a hand over his mouth, which clearly hadn’t heard his thoughts.

  He rushed to say something better as Mrs. Bradley turned her frown on him. “Maybe you should wait a week for your leg to heal, though.” That wasn’t quite the absolute no he perhaps should have given, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter that word when Laura looked at him with such earnest hope in her eyes.

  The joy that sprang to her face was worth any cost to rent horses. He’d make sure she didn’t overtax herself. In fact, he’d carry her over the rocks himself if it would make the journey easier for her. Although, given his recent record, she might be better off hobbling on her own.

  Either way, as he left the women to their preparations and went to rent horses from the livery, his body suddenly didn’t ache nearly as much as before. The prospect of a few hours in Laura’s company shouldn’t lighten his load this much.

  But he couldn’t seem to help it if it did.

  Ingrid wasn’t happy with her leaving, but Laura couldn’t bring herself to worry too much. At least, not enough to let her friend’s concerns dim the wonderful freedom of being outside, even as cold as the afternoon was. The icy wind blew across her face and worked its way under the scarf Ingrid had loaned her.

  They kept the horses to an easy walk in deference to both their injuries. But that gave her time to learn a little more about this man she was beginning to think of as a friend. She sent a glance at his relaxed, confident profile as his horse kept pace with hers. “What is it you do at the mine, exactly? Are there assigned jobs, or does everyone work at whatever needs doing? I notice you’ve taken off the bandage the doctor worked so hard to fasten.”

  A corner of his mouth tipped up at her words, but he kept his focus straight. “I was a grunt laborer for a while, but these past few days I’ve been training with the blasters.” He looked over at her. “I might have suspected them of going easy on my arm, except I’d been promised to move to that role as soon as they had time to train me.”

  She cocked her head. “Blasters?”

  “We handle the big powder. Set the explosions when new rock needs to be cleared.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, as though his words held little import.

  But a niggle of worry threaded through her. “Isn’t the big powder dangerous? I’ve heard it’s unstable.” She’d not been around mining before coming to Settler’s Fort, and she hadn’t yet seen the results of an explosion gone awry, but Ingrid had told her about an episode where a thawing of frozen powder hadn’t been handled exactly right. The result had been five men killed on the spot, another with horrible burns on his face, and still another who’d never fully recovered from his injuries, both the physical ones and the scars in his mind. His grave lay among the endless clusters of stones behind the little church building at the edge of town.

  What if Nate met with the same fate?

  He must have heard the twinge of fear in her voice, or maybe she’d spoken some other sound that drew his attention. When he turned to her, his brows formed a V of concern. “It can be dangerous if not handled properly. But Barlow is the lead blaster, and he’s been working with the powder for years. He’s teaching me every precaution.”

  Fear welled in her chest—maybe unreasonable, but she didn’t think so. “Why would you tempt danger? That type of work might be easier, but is the risk really worth it?”

  “It pays a great deal more than working as a grunt.” His eyes bore into her for only a moment, then he turned to face forward again as their horses trudged up the rocky incline.

  Was his financial state really that dire? Wouldn’t Mr. Lanton give him a reasonable amount of time to repay the debt? In truth, she had no idea how much he might have to recompense. She remembered the crates stacked in the cabin where they’d taken her during her kidnapping. But every thought of that day churned bile in her middle, so she’d never let herself dwell on the remaining debt.

  And now she didn’t want to waste this afternoon of freedom with such memories. She glanced at the beauty around them. The snow earlier that week had melted the same day, and even with the brown dusting of winter grass and leafless trees, the landscape still boasted spots of color and life. The deep green of pine and cedar filled in the gaps between barren limbs. The tweeting of a sparrow was greeted with a resounding answer from a shrike.

  A clatter from high on the mountain ahead grabbed her attention. “Look.” She couldn’t help but smile at the half-dozen goats skittering over the rock on their way around the steep slope. One tossed its head and kicked up its heels as it ran.

  Her sentiments exactly.

  Nate’s deep chuckle rumbled, filling the space between them. Silence threatened to settle over them again,
but he was the one to speak this time. “And what of you, Miss Hannon? Has it always been your desire to care for wounded souls alongside our good doctor? I’m assuming you hale from the States. Is the brother you mentioned still there?”

  He spoke with a lightness, but his words clogged in her chest like a massive lead ball. The kind that had been shot from a cannon to decimate her baby brother’s leg, and with that loss, destroyed the boy she’d loved as her own.

  She had to answer . . . had to say something in response . . . something that wouldn’t give away the pain his questions resurrected. Lord, I cling to you in this. Be my strength as you promised.

  “I grew up in Missouri, but I’ve no family left there. My parents are both gone. My older brother passed away just before the war, and the younger one died after he was injured by a cannonball. Since I had nothing to hold me back, I came west to satisfy my adventurous spirit.” Even when she tried to keep the details minimal, the enormity of listing everyone she’d lost nearly choked her. And that last part might have been stretching the truth a bit far.

  An adventurous spirit was probably thirtieth on her list of reasons why she’d had to get away from Cutler. From Missouri and the hotbed of tragedy the place had become. This territory was the first place she’d found where her spirit didn’t yearn to keep pushing.

  Of course, that was more likely due to the freedom of finally coming to understand God’s overwhelming love for her. Of finally grieving Will’s death the way she’d needed to. The death of all her family, really, although some she’d grieved long before they breathed their last.

  “I’m so sorry.” Nate’s tender voice and the weight of his gaze broke through her swirl of deep thoughts, and she struggled to pull her mind back to the present. She worked to find a smile for him, something to show she hadn’t been affected by his questions.

  She couldn’t quite manage it.

  They rode in silence awhile longer, and she focused on enjoying the scenery without letting herself be dragged down by memories.

  At last, Nate pulled back on his reins, and her own horse slowed to a halt. A glance around showed they’d arrived at the place where they usually hobbled the animals. Relief sagged her shoulders. The past was behind her, and now she could look forward to seeing their new friends and doing whatever she could to help them. The brave determination that had marked Bright Sun’s young face had stuck in her memory since that first meeting.

  She eased down from her saddle, careful to land only on her good leg.

  Nate was by her side the moment she touched the ground. “Let me help you.” He reached up to untie her walking sticks, but she caught a barely audible sucking in of his breath as he lowered his injured arm.

  “I can do that.” She nudged him aside. “You don’t need to be reaching up with that shoulder.” He stepped back and allowed her to complete the task, taking hold of the mare’s reins instead.

  She sent him a sideways grin. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? With your shoulder and my ankle, at least we have one able body between us.”

  He chuckled, too, and the vibrato sank through her, raising gooseflesh down her back with its delicious sound. She’d have to see what she could do to make him laugh like that more often.

  After settling the horses, they made their painfully slow way up the rock ledge around the mountainside. Their diligence paid off, though, for they reached the cave without mishap.

  “I’ll go in first and light the lantern.” Nate ducked through the opening before she could respond.

  Probably best, for bending low to duck through would require putting weight on her sore leg. The task would be easier if he were helping from the inside.

  A light flared within the cave, then lessened, then grew again as he adjusted the lantern wick. Nate’s hand appeared through the opening. “Can you duck, or would you rather go down to your knees?”

  “I can do it.” She placed her hand in his. The rough warmth of his skin seared all the way up her arm. Maybe she should have donned gloves for this outing, but she so rarely used them that she hadn’t even thought of it.

  Doing her best to ignore the effect of his touch, she ducked low and hobbled through, mostly on her good leg. As she positioned the walking sticks back under her arms, Nate raised the lantern and scanned the area.

  “What’s that?”

  The concern in his voice jerked her head up. On the side wall near the front of the cave sat a half-dozen crates, stacked as neatly as though they’d stepped into a mercantile’s storeroom.

  Twelve

  Where did they come from?” Laura shifted her gaze from the crates to scan the interior of the cave, peering as far as she could into the dark depths. No movement stirred that she could see.

  Nate was already walking toward the boxes, so she limped along behind him. “These are canned peaches. These are hunting knives. These are sewing notions. If the writing is correct, anyway.” He turned away and raised the lantern to look around the cave as she’d done. “Think someone’s in here?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

  She held her breath, listening for any sound in the darkest recesses of the cavern. Nothing.

  “They have left.”

  Bright Sun’s voice nearly sent Laura’s heart into her throat, and she pressed a hand to her chest to keep from squealing. The child stepped out of the shadows on the far side of the cave, near the entrance to the other cavern that held the hot springs.

  “Bright Sun.” Laura moved toward her, slowing as she maneuvered the downhill section with her walking sticks. Nate stayed at her side, his hand poised by her elbow, ready to catch her should she make any more foolish missteps.

  “Who brought those things?” Nate motioned with his head toward the crates. “And when?”

  “Two white men. They came in the dark last night.” Bright Sun didn’t move toward them, probably because she knew they’d want to go with her to her grandfather. And maybe she wasn’t quite as eager to see them as they were to see her.

  “In the dark?” When Nate repeated the words, their oddity finally penetrated Laura’s thoughts.

  “Who would want to hide crates of random goods in a remote cave like this? And for what purpose?” Their intentions must be nefarious. She could think of no other reason, unless . . . “Did you hike down to see what they carried the boxes in? Was their wagon damaged?”

  She gave a single nod. “The wagon was full. At least it looked that way. They had blankets over everything. After they brought the crates inside, they drove away.” Bright Sun’s face held no smile. No light. Only a solemnity that bespoke the weight on her little shoulders. Did she ever have any times of enjoyment? Laura could still remember how heavy that crushing weight of too much responsibility could press down on small shoulders.

  She forced her tone to lighten as she reached the girl. “We’ve come bearing gifts for you and your grandfather. How is he?”

  “Sleeps a lot.” Her voice held no hint of whether she thought that detail was good or bad.

  Laura reached to touch the girl’s upper arm, praying she wouldn’t cringe away. Bright Sun stayed motionless, so Laura rested her hand gently on the child’s buckskin sleeve. “Let’s go see him, shall we?” She sent the girl a cheerful smile.

  Bright Sun’s chin bobbed a tiny bit before she turned and led the way through the tight entrance to the other chamber.

  Laura edged carefully around the wall jutting into the opening between the rooms. Nate rested his hand on her elbow as she moved through. With her experiences lately, she could only be grateful for the support.

  The dim glow of a small fire appeared as soon as she stepped into the humid cavern, and she moved that direction.

  Eagle Soaring lay against the rock wall near the fire, but with the scant blaze flickering from the coals, he likely couldn’t feel much warmth. Good thing the hot springs did much to raise the temperature in this room. The older man’s gaze followed them as they approached. His face held a little more expression than before
, a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion. And pain. The lines under his eyes bespoke the agony he must be suffering.

  Nate knelt by the man’s head. “How are you, my friend?”

  As Bright Sun quietly translated his words, Nate reached out as though he planned to rest a hand on the man’s shoulder draped in the buffalo robe. But a dark, wrinkled hand reached for Nate’s, taking hold in a gnarled grip of friendship.

  The moment stretched as Nate and the elderly Indian stared at each other, hands clasped. She could only imagine what passed between them. Gratitude? A promise to help? Perchance even respect?

  Laura switched her focus to Bright Sun, who stood near her grandfather, watching the exchange. Maybe it was only the glimmer of firelight, but her eyes seem cloaked by a sheen of moisture. Did she fear for her grandfather’s life? Of course she did. What young girl left in this situation wouldn’t fear the worst? And in truth, her fears might still come to pass.

  Nate eased the fur back to reveal the bandaged arm, and Laura hobbled closer to unwrap the bandage and apply fresh ointment, then rewrap the wound.

  As though he could read her mind, Nate looked up at her, then pushed to his feet. “Let me help.” He murmured the words and slipped his arm around her waist. She clutched his good shoulder as he lowered her to sit.

  “There’s salve and a fresh bandage in the satchel.” She spoke to Nate, but sent her patient a smile as she began unwrapping the soiled cloth.

  The wound underneath made her stomach churn, just as it had the last time she’d seen it. So much flesh was exposed . . . it seemed impossible the gaping wound could grow closed. Doc Micah had found an article in a medical journal that discussed how the combined effects of certain minerals with sulfur could be incompatible, possibly eating away at flesh. Poor Eagle Soaring had suffered that fate firsthand. Perhaps there would always be a dip where the muscle was missing, even if the skin grew back.