But she also didn’t have the strength to wield her full armor, so she stood—ignoring his proffered hand—and dragged herself toward the horses.
The day seemed to crawl as the sun rose high. Even though these mountains felt closer to the brilliant orb, the air had a nip to it that not even the warm rays could dissolve. They rode through a valley as the afternoon lingered long, and she could only be thankful they weren’t navigating steep cliffs. Her weary body didn’t have much left, probably not enough to cling to the saddle against a steep descent.
“There’s a good camping spot in those trees yonder.” Elias’s voice called from the front of the line. “We’ll stop there.”
The relief his words brought infused her muscles with a fresh dose of strength, and she straightened in the saddle. The cluster of pine couldn’t be more than half hour's ride. She could endure.
As they neared the woods, dusk settled with its thick, murky coating. Voices sounded from ahead, and her muscles tensed. She peered at the stand where they would be camping. Had someone already settled in for the night? How much longer would Elias make them go now? They couldn’t stay close to these strangers, but she may not make it much farther.
Just outside the trees, Elias raised his hand for a halt, then hollered, “Halloo in the camp.”
The voices ceased, and footsteps sounded through the trees. A man came into view wearing the same kind of buckskin tunic that had been so common to the men at Fort Benton, as common as the rifle in his hand. “Howdy.” His gaze scanned the row of them, catching on her longer than the others.
Elias nodded a greeting. “Name’s Elias Benbow. We’re travelin’ north and planned to stop for the night soon. Just thought I’d let ya know you folks have neighbors.”
The man refocused on Elias. “’Preciate it. You folks can join our campfire. We’ve meat if you need some.”
Elias dismounted and pulled his reins over his mule’s head. “We have food, but the comp’ny sounds nice.” He turned back to her and the men. “All right, folks. Let’s get settled.”
He wasn’t even going to ask if they wanted to stay here? He knew nothing of these men. There was a good chance they weren’t decent people, but Elias was willing to bed down around their campfire?
The Grant brothers were dismounting, and Andy started to do the same. She nudged her gelding up beside him. “Wait, Andy. We’re not going to stay here.” She kept her voice low, but he heard her.
“Will we ride on alone?” Andy kept his voice low, but they still drew Seth’s attention, who’d been riding at the back of the line.
He stepped up beside her horse, staring up at her with concern in his warm brown eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She locked her jaw. “We’re not staying with strangers. Andy and I will ride on. You can catch up with us in the morning.” Or maybe they should be on their own again when the sun rose. She wasn’t altogether sure she could trust these men anymore either, if they were willing to bed down with perfect strangers.
“Rachel.” Seth’s voice pulled low.
She jerked upright and sent a sharp glare his way. “Mrs. Gray.”
He wrinkled his nose. “If I have to. But how about if I just call you, Mrs. G? Anyway, why don’t we meet these people before we decide for sure if we stay or not. If any of us feels it’s not safe here, we’ll move on to another campsite. Together.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he stepped closer, resting his hand on Winter’s shoulder.
His look was so earnest, so...determined, it stilled her. “I won’t put you in danger, Rachel. I promise.”
She should correct him again. Should refuse to dismount. But a larger part of her wanted to believe him. To trust him. Even if she and Andy climbed down from their horses and met these strangers, Seth was right. They could always remount and ride away.
She let out a breath and nodded. “We’ll meet them, but that’s all I agree to.”
Seth held their horses while she and Andy dismounted, then they walked three-abreast toward the trees. His brother and Elias were already unfastening packs from their animals, but Seth stepped close and spoke in a low voice.
“We need to make sure these men don’t mean harm. How about if we go meet the group before unpacking. If any of us don’t like the feel of things, we can move on and camp a bit farther down the trail.”
Elias shrugged. “Suits me either way. Most o’ the folks along this trail are a decent lot, but there can be a bad apple every now an’ then.”
As they tied the horses to the trees, that old familiar panic surged in Rachel’s chest. “Andy, why don’t you stay here and watch the animals.”
“Ma.” His voice dripped with more than a little frustration. “I’m old enough to come with you.”
Was he? So much of her wanted to shelter him. This world would attack as soon as he was on his own. But she had to teach him how to deal with it. How to spot an untrustworthy man.
Inhaling a strengthening breath, she nodded. “All right.”
They trekked through the trees, the canopy of limbs blocking out most of the remaining daylight. Seth walked just in front of her, holding aside branches and clearing the way. She kept Andy behind her, and Samuel brought up the rear. These two seemed to do that often, as though bracketing her and her son inside their protection. Did all brothers work together so well? She’d never witnessed a connection like this. Never seen grown men who communicated without speaking as these two did.
The light of a campfire shone through the trees, and low voices hummed in the distance.
As they stepped into the light, the bulky forms of three men took shape around the campfire. One stood—the man who’d greeted them before. “Come in and sit yourselves. I’m Rufus Cook. These are Alonzo and Milton.”
Each of the men raised a hand as his name was announced, and Rachel’s eyes locked on the flask in Alonzo’s grip.
Her stomach churned, threatening to send bile up to her throat. She backed a step, reaching for Andy. Her hand found his arm and closed around it.
At the corner of her vision, Elias waved them forward, and the drone of his voice tried to break through her senses. Yet the panic swirling in her chest blocked everything out except that bottle.
The man raised the container to his bearded lips, and she turned away as a wave of vomit rose up to her chest, burning her throat.
She sucked in a hoarse breath, struggling to keep her insides in place. A gentle arm slipped around her shoulders, steering her away from the fire and toward the blessed relief of the darkness.
Chapter Eight
Even I didn’t expect this much adventure.
~ Seth
Seth knew Rachel was afraid. Knew she had scars from whatever awful things happened in her past.
Nay, these weren’t scars, they were open wounds. Festering and bleeding so she was forced to limp through life in a miserable condition.
He should never have forced her to approach the men when she so clearly dreaded it. Pushing her wasn’t the way to heal the injuries from her past. She needed kindness and understanding before anything else. Those and the healing touch of a loving Father.
Be there for her, Lord.
When they reached the horses, he was relieved to see Rachel’s son and his brother close behind them.
“Elias stayed to make our apologies and bid them farewell.” Samuel spoke in a low voice.
To smooth things over. Good. Seth turned his focus back to the woman bent under his arm. “You’re safe, Rachel. We’re not staying near those men. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
She raised her face to him, and in the vivid light of an almost-full moon, her eyes glistened with pain. No tears leaked from them, but the anguish was impossible to miss, and it pressed his chest with a powerful ache. She seemed to be struggling to shutter the emotion, and seconds later her back stiffened and her shoulders squared.
“I’m well.” She inhaled a deep breath, her chest rising with the effort. He forced his
gaze to stay on her face.
“Well enough to ride farther?”
She nodded, then turned toward her horse, reaching for the leather that tied the gelding to the tree. “Let’s go.”
They rode another quarter hour, then camped beside a narrow creek under the weepy branches of a willow. A much more exposed campsite than the one Rufus Cook and his friends occupied, but this one was quiet. Since it was so late and the weather mild, they opted not to build a cookfire.
Rachel seemed dead on her feet as they made camp and ate a cold meal of roasted venison and corn cake. She tucked into her bedroll before the rest of them finished eating.
He leaned forward to speak to her. “Do you want the screens put up?”
They’d erected some form of partition each night, but that would be harder to do with only the willow tree nearby. Lack of wood was another reason he was thankful they’d not attempted a fire.
“Don’t worry about it tonight.” The last word trailed into a yawn, and her eyes drifted shut.
Andy looked just as weary, but he appeared determined to sit up with the men. It was time they all bedded down.
He glanced around, scanning the land outside their camp. All seemed quiet. “Think we’ll be safe here?” Maybe he was being too cautious, but a bit of Rachel’s concern about the men they’d just left had worked its way inside him.
Mountains lined either side of the valley, protecting them like fortresses. Yet it was the length of the valley that gave him pause. Without tree cover, they could be seen for a long way in either direction. Of course, anyone approaching could also be seen. If they were awake to watch.
He swiveled to face the others. “Should we set a guard?”
Elias rubbed a hand over his beard. “I think we’ll be safe enough. As long as we sleep light.”
Seth hesitated before nodding. Should he accept that they weren’t taking action to assure their safety? The safety of Rachel and Andy.
Elias may well be right. Rufus and the others would likely drink a little, then sleep away their weariness.
His own exhausted body begged to do the same.
But as he stretched out on his blanket, his muscles couldn’t quite seem to relax. He was a man of action, not one to turn away when something—or someone—he cared about might be in danger.
He’d sleep light, as Elias said. But still, he felt powerless.
God would have to stand guard tonight. He let the thought sink in fully, bringing with it the shame that was his due. His thoughts should have turned to the Almighty from his first moment of concern.
Sorry, Lord. Would he ever get it right the first time?
WHEN RACHEL PUSHED her eyes open the next morning, daylight had already settled over the valley. She’d not slept this late in years.
The faint rustle of movement met her ears, but she took a moment to stretch under her blanket. She should rise. Make up for the time she’d wasted. But she couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so relaxed.
“You sick, Ma?”
She turned to Andy and smiled. “No, son. I’m just resting.” Pushing the blanket aside, she sat up. “Sorry I slept so long.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Seth’s voice sounded behind her, and she turned to see him holding out a steaming cup. She’d never seen such a beautiful sight. The man, with a thin layer of beard shadowing his pleasing features, presenting her with the rich aroma of coffee. She’d not had coffee in a month of Mondays.
She should refuse the offering as she had that first morning and every morning since. But today seemed different. Not only did she feel fully rested, she felt...at peace. Or at least, more peaceful than she could ever remember.
So she took the tin mug he offered, murmured a “thank you,” and raised the cup to inhale an aromatic breath. Why had she ever rejected an offer so luxurious? Sure, she believed in making her own way, not accepting gifts or charity, especially from men. But honestly...one should have her priorities straight.
She sipped the brew, letting the strength of it warm her all the way down.
Seth dropped to his haunches beside her. “How’s your hand this morning?”
She glanced at her bandage, which was looking rather soiled. The searing pain had slipped to a dull ache, so she’d barely thought about it until he asked. “Better.”
“Elias says we should unwrap it and apply more salve. I have clean cloth we can use for a fresh bandage.”
The thought of disturbing the wound didn’t appeal, but she nodded. “I’ll prepare the morning meal, then take care of it.”
He nodded toward a pan by a small fire, which hadn’t been there the night before. “My brother made corn mush. He’s not as good a cook as I am, but it fills the empty places.” His eyes held a twinkle that would draw her if she allowed it.
Instead, she took another sip of coffee. “Which of you is older?”
She shouldn’t ask questions that would make him think her interested, but this was something she’d been wondering. Was Seth the elder, with his unnerving smile and intense gaze, his tendency toward action when an idea took hold of him? Or Samuel, who was so quiet and reserved, she still didn't know much about him? He always seemed to be there when his brother needed him, yet he never instigated whatever action Seth had them embroiled in.
He squared his shoulders. “I am.” Then a grin tugged the corner of his mouth. “By about five minutes.”
His words took a moment to register. “You’re twins?”
He nodded, a true smile widening his face. The flash of his white teeth only made him more handsome.
She glanced toward Samuel, more to quell the longing in her chest than anything. She didn’t need a man. Wouldn’t have one, not even a fellow who appeared honorable, like Seth Grant.
She forced her tone to stay light. “You don’t look exactly the same.”
He shrugged. “Some twins are identical, some aren’t. Now I answered your question, I have one for you.”
Her gaze jerked to him as wariness crowded inside her. His grin still sat easy on his mouth, no sign of anything diabolical.
“I think I heard you were going to Fort Hamilton, but what’s there for you? Family?”
The weight on her chest eased a notch. Speaking of Henry wouldn’t bring harm, surely. And no pain. “My brother is there. At least, he was when he wrote last summer.”
His head tipped in a curious expression. “Is he your only brother?”
“He is.” Even a topic as safe as Henry found a way to surface painful memories.
Maybe Seth saw or felt as much, for he pushed to his feet. “I’ll get the salve from Elias, then we can fix up your hand and hit the trail.”
“WE’LL PROBABLY SEE Indians today.”
Seth turned in his saddle to see if Elias wore a jesting smile.
The man only nodded, his hands propped on the horn of his saddle as he rocked to the rhythm of the mule’s gait. “Last time I came through here, there was a band of Apsalooke camping just over that hill yonder.” He motioned ahead of them. “They were nice enough, but I just said howdy an’ moved on.”
Howdy. Interesting word choice for Indians. He and Samuel had seen a band of redskins in the distance on their journey from California, but they’d not spoken with them. “Are most of the Indians friendly in these parts?”
“Well.” Elias drew out the word in his relaxed way. “It depends. Usually if you mind your own business and act friendly enough, they’ll be pleasant back.”
Pleasant? He’d never associated that word with Indians, but best hold his tongue and see.
As they climbed the ridge, Elias took the lead. At the top, a small cluster of teepees appeared in the valley below. A few figures had been moving around outside the lodges but stilled, then moved closer to the tents. Probably because they saw the strangers riding down the hill.
“Wouldn’t it have been better to ride around this camp?” Seth kept his voice low, just loud enough for Elias to hear.
The old man g
lanced to the side. “Wouldn’t be an easy ride to scale that mountain range. Besides, if you’re gonna spend time in this territory, ya need ta get used to meetin’ with Indians.”
The man did have a point.
Two men stepped from the camp as they approached, each of them clad in buckskins like Elias. That was the extent of their similarity to the bent older man. These braves were younger, about the age of him and Samuel, and stood straight and proud. Both wore their glossy black hair in braids, but the leaner of the two had hung feathers from the leather tie fastening the plaits.
Elias reined in about ten strides from the men, and Seth pulled up beside him. “Howdy.” The older man raised a hand.
The Indian with the feathers raised his own hand in greeting.
“We’re just passing through. Don’t plan to bother you and your people.”
Did the Indians speak English then? Again, the man with the feathers was the one to respond. “You make trade?” The words were clipped but understandable.
Elias shook his head. “Nothing to trade this time.”
The Indian nodded, then spoke a string of sounds that had to be in his own language.
Elias nodded and raised a hand in farewell, then reined his mule in front of Seth’s gelding and moved on the direction they’d been traveling.
The lead Indian also raised a hand in farewell, and Seth did the same as he turned his horse to follow the mule. That was it then?
He couldn’t help a glance back at Rachel, just behind him. Her face wore no expression, not even the grim determination that usually marked her features. How did she so clearly wipe away every trace of her thoughts?
That was a talent he’d never mastered, not even in his gambling days. Since he couldn’t eliminate expression from his features, he’d perfected a teasing smirk. A look that hadn’t endeared him to the men at his table. But at least they weren’t able to read his hand.
When he and his fellow travelers crested a low hill and descended out of sight from the Indians, Elias halted and turned in his saddle, propping a hand on the cantle. “You folks made it through all right?”
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