A Journey of the Heart Collection

by Colleen Coble

  Emmie hadn’t seen Sarah for nearly a year. Not since she had broken her engagement to Ben and followed Rand out here to this desolate place. Her bright golden hair still gleamed and her green eyes still sparkled with joy and excitement. She’d gained a little weight with her pregnancy, but the soft roundness suited Sarah’s petite femininity.

  “I’m chattering like a magpie, and you must be exhausted,” Sarah said. “Would you like to freshen up while I fix us a cup of tea?”

  “That would be lovely. I’m grimy from the trip.” Emmie took off her bonnet and smiled at Sarah.

  Sarah shuddered at the mention of the trip. “How well I remember the journey out here. Horrible food, no bathing facilities, no place to sleep. Why don’t I heat some water for a bath? Rand won’t be home until suppertime. You can have a lovely soak.”

  “Sounds heavenly. But I’ll get it ready if you show me where everything is. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “Now you sound like Rand.” Sarah laughed. “I feel wonderful. I have a ways to go—almost four months. It will be a long wait. I’m so anxious already.”

  Emmie followed her through the tiny quarters. The small entry led to a parlor about ten feet square. It was a homey room with an army cot, obviously used as a sofa, that was covered with a colorful Ohio Star quilt in burgundy-and-blue calico and matching pillows. Warm burgundy calico curtains and matching table covers topped with lace doilies added more color. A crude table and two chairs stood under the front window and held a Bible, a copy of Shakespeare’s plays, David Copperfield, and Wuthering Heights. A mantel over the fireplace held a delicate rose tea set and several small china figurines.

  Just off the parlor was a small kitchen. The rough table and chairs were painted the same warm burgundy as the curtains in the parlor. Pots hung from pegs along one wall, and a small cookstove occupied the middle of the room. A dry sink with a plank counter sat in one corner.

  The door in the left wall of the kitchen opened into a tiny bedroom with only room for a bed and small chest. Sarah started to lift the hip bath from its peg on the wall, but Emmie quickly stepped forward and took it down herself. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’m here to help you.”

  Sarah laughed as she pointed out a room in the corner for the bath. “I’ll heat some water.”

  An hour later Emmie felt like a new woman. Her dark hair shone, and the lavender dress soothed her raw skin. They drank their tea and ate warm bread with thick butter and jam as they chatted. The months since they last talked seemed to fall away.

  “Are you sure Rand is all right with my coming? Ben wouldn’t be his favorite person.”

  A shadow passed through Sarah’s eyes, but she smiled. “You aren’t responsible for your brother’s actions. Rand doesn’t hold it against you. And he knew I needed some help. There are few women out here, and he is grateful you were willing to come.”

  Emmie’s throat thickened. “You have no idea how I needed a place to settle. I’ll take good care of you, Sarah.”

  Sarah set down her teacup. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s death. You were married such a short time.”

  Emmie carefully chewed the last bit of her jam and bread before answering. She knew she needed to tell Sarah the truth, but she didn’t think she could face it yet. She’d told her she wanted to take back her maiden name since she’d been married such a short time. But a secret of such magnitude never stayed hidden. Already a few people looked at her oddly in the last few days before she left Wabash.

  Sarah patted her arm, her emerald eyes luminous with tears as she saw her friend’s agitation. “We don’t have to talk about it yet. Someday when the grief isn’t so fresh and you want to tell me how wonderful Monroe was, I’ll be ready to listen. It’s still very difficult to talk about Papa. I still miss him so, and it’s been almost a year.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and quickly changed the subject.

  Lieutenant Isaac Liddle brushed the crumbs left from lunch from his lap and grabbed his rifle. Chickadees fluttered from the trees to snatch up the bread crumbs. The thunk of axes on trees wafted through the forest. He and Rand were guarding the rest of the detail, but he felt relaxed. Things had been peaceful at Fort Laramie for weeks.

  He eyed Rand’s back. Things had been tense between them since Rand married Sarah, and Isaac had been waiting for the right time to talk to his friend. No time like the present. They were seldom alone, and there was always so much to do.

  He cleared his throat. “Rand, I’d like to talk to you.”

  Rand Campbell, a broad-shouldered man in his midtwenties, turned from his perusal of the wild landscape. His dark brown eyes were cautious as they met Isaac’s gaze. “Sure.”

  “It’s time we cleared the air between us.” Isaac took a step nearer and put his hand on Rand’s shoulder. “I value your friendship, and I’d hate for a misunderstanding to come between us.”

  “You mean Sarah.”

  Isaac nodded and let go of Rand’s shoulder. “Your wife is a lovely girl. I was lonely and thought she might be too. But I was never in love with her. Not the way the two of you are. We might have made a decent match of it, but it never would have been what the two of you have. My heart isn’t broken or anything even close to it.”

  Rand’s gaze searched his, and he finally nodded. “I see that’s true now. I thought maybe it was hard for you to be around us.”

  “What’s hard is when you both avoid me at mess hall. Or look the other way at a dance. We were best friends. I still feel like you’re my brother.”

  Rand held out his hand. “I’m glad you spoke up. I’ve missed you.”

  Isaac pumped Rand’s hand. “Same here, friend.”

  “Sarah has a companion coming. Maybe the two of you will get along well.”

  Isaac released his grip and held up his hand. “Whoa there, buddy. Just because you’re happily hitched doesn’t mean the rest of us want to follow in your footsteps.”

  Rand waggled his brows. “She’s a pretty one.”

  Isaac grinned. “No thanks.”

  His step was lighter as he led his horse to the river to drink. At least things were square between his buddy and him.

  Emmie sat at the table peeling potatoes for supper. The delicious aroma of venison stew filled the kitchen. Being with Sarah had healed a bit of the pain she carried.

  “I’m starving, wife,” Rand called as he strode into the kitchen followed by Sarah’s younger brother.

  Emmie wiped her hands on her apron and stood. “Joel, you’ve grown a foot.”

  He grinned. “I can shoot now too.” His glance at Rand held adoration.

  The nine-year-old boy had a confidence that sharpened his expression and squared his shoulders. Rand’s influence had been good for Joel, who had seen little approval from Wade, their older brother.

  Rand exuded a quiet strength and compassion. The dimples in his cheeks made her want to smile with him. How would he treat the sister of his archrival?

  But her fears were groundless. Rand was the perfect host and asked her for news of home as Sarah put the venison stew on the table.

  “Usually we go to officers’ mess,” Sarah said. “But I didn’t want to share you with the men your first night here. They’ll be around soon enough when they hear there’s a young, beautiful widow in their midst.”

  Rand grinned. “They already know. I had at least ten men ask me about her. I had to tell them I hadn’t seen her for over six months and she might be an ugly hag by now. I can see I was mistaken.”

  Emmie flushed. “I’m not interested in finding another husband. Not ever.” Any mention of her looks always made her uncomfort
able. She knew she was very ordinary. Only Monroe had ever called her beautiful, and it was obvious now that he’d lied. Her real attraction for him had been the dowry that never materialized.

  Rand raised his eyebrows but said nothing. After supper Emmie and Sarah cleared the table and washed the dishes, then followed him into the tiny parlor. He took down two harmonicas, handed one to Joel, and they began to play “Nearer, My God to Thee,” as Sarah sang the words in a clear, sweet soprano. Emmie knew the song a bit. It was one her father bellowed when he was drunk. So after a slight hesitation, she joined in with an alto harmony.

  Sarah clapped her hands. “That was wonderful. We like to have devotions together at night. We sing and Rand reads a passage of Scripture. Would you like to join us, or are you too tired tonight?”

  “I’d love to join you.” Something about their simple, heartfelt faith pulled her. She’d always felt that God was too busy to pay any attention to someone like her. But Sarah and Rand acted as if he were right there with them.

  Rand picked up the worn Bible on the table by the window and flipped through the pages. “We’re up to Psalms,” he said, settling his broad-shouldered frame into the chair. He began to read Psalm 61 in his deep voice. “ ‘Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.’ ” His voice faltered and fell silent as the tears slid noiselessly down Emmie’s cheeks.

  “No, no, go on,” she choked. “It’s what I need to hear.”

  As he finished the psalm, she felt a curious peace. This place was certainly the ends of the earth like the Scripture mentioned, so maybe she would find answers here.

  FOUR

  The shrill notes of the bugle pierced the dawn air, and Emmie bolted upright in the narrow bed Rand and Sarah had fixed her in the hallway. Without sliding out of the cot, she looked out the window in the top of the door. Streaks of pink heralding the day lightened the dark sky. She slid out of bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the cold floor, and padded to the door. The sound of men grooming their horses drifted across the parade ground. She pushed open the door and took a deep breath of sage-scented air.

  She was here at Fort Laramie, that famous bastion of might against the hordes of savages threatening the settlers trekking along the Oregon Trail. Or so the men back home said. She herself hadn’t seen any threatening hordes in the short time she’d been here, just those Laramie Loafers. But there were certainly a lot of impressive-looking soldiers.

  She shut the door and watched through the window. The two-story barracks across the parade ground bustled with blue-coated men hurrying toward the mess hall for their breakfast, then on to saddle their horses or start their fatigue duties of the day.

  She poured water from the tin pitcher into the cracked bowl sitting on a cloth-covered crate. She shivered as the cold water hit her neck and face. Pulling on a simple blue cotton dress, she braided her long dark hair and coiled it around her head. By the time she finished her ablutions, she could hear Rand and Sarah moving around the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” Sarah said as Emmie came toward her with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I woke up a few times when somebody kept yelling ‘All’s well.’ ”

  Sarah and Rand chuckled.

  “Night watchman. You’ll get used to it,” Rand told her. He kissed Sarah and picked up his hat. “I’m going to be late for boots and saddles if I don’t get a move on.”

  “Boots and saddles? What’s that—some kind of war game?”

  Rand grinned at the question. “That’s the call to mount our horses and get on with our day. I’ve got to lead a detail to escort a wagon train coming in and then round up some beef for Cookie—that’s what the cook’s called at any fort I’ve ever been at. But I’ll wager the men will be finding any excuse to come over here to meet you.”

  Rand’s prediction proved true. Nearly every man in the fort made some excuse to drop in over the next few days. Emmie felt conspicuous even going outside for a walk or to the sutler’s store. Men stared at her with awe and something like deep respect in their eyes. It was very intimidating, especially when she felt as she did about all males. Except for Rand. He was a very nice man, God-fearing, and honest to a fault. But there couldn’t be two like him in the world.

  Each soldier showed up hat in hand, hair slicked back with a hair tonic that smelled of spice, blue uniform brushed and pressed. Emmie felt sorry for them, but she let Sarah deal with sending them away. Two even proposed marriage, practically in their first breaths.

  “I just can’t stay inside another minute,” Sarah announced one day after sending Joel off to school. “I’m not used to having to sit around here all day. I don’t know why the doctor said I couldn’t continue to teach the Sioux children. I feel fine.”

  “He’s just being cautious.” Rand shoveled the last bite of flapjacks into his mouth. “How about a picnic? The weather has been warm, but it won’t last long. You might as well enjoy it while you can.”

  Sarah’s eyes brightened. “I love that idea. How about you, Emmie?”

  Though the thought of leaving the safety of the fort took her aback, Emmie nodded. “That would be wonderful.” She’d come here to be of help to Sarah, and she couldn’t let a little fear stand in her way.

  Rand pulled on his coat. “I’d go with you, but I need to repair some telegraph line the Indians cut. I’ll arrange for an escort. What time do you want to go?”

  “Could we go to the stream in the meadow?”

  “Sure. Just don’t wander off.”

  “Thank you, Rand.” Sarah leaned up to brush a quick kiss over his lips.

  The sight made Emmie’s chest squeeze, and she turned away. It would be hard to ever trust a man with her heart again. Not after such betrayal.

  After their morning chores, the women took the laundry to Soapsuds Row, a line of tents at the edge of the fort where a couple of enlisted men lived with their wives, who acted as the fort laundresses. The women were visiting back East right now and the men did the laundry while they were gone. Sarah and Emmie hurried back to their quarters and packed lunch.

  Promptly at eleven, someone pounded on the door and called in a deep baritone, “I’m here to escort you.”

  Emmie swung open the door and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The man had a friendly, open face with a shock of auburn hair that fell down over his forehead from under his blue hat. His flowing mustache matched his hair and he was quite tall, for she had to crane her neck to look up at him. At least six-two, his stocky frame towered over her.

  He took off his hat and held it in his big hands, reddened from the wind. “You must be Emmie. Every man in the fort is already in love with you.”

  Emmie smiled in spite of her resolve to keep aloof from the soldiers. His grin was infectious. “They just haven’t seen any women in a while. And who are you?”

  “Isaac Liddle at your service, ma’am.” He slapped the heels of his boots together and kissed her hand, then grinned again at her surprise.

  She tried to place his soft accent. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re Rand’s buddy.”

  Sarah joined her at the door. “I see you’ve met Mr. Liddle. You behave yourself, Isaac. I don’t want you scaring Emmie into leaving me.”

  His voice took on an injured tone. “Now, Sarah, that’s ridiculous. One look at my handsome mug and she’s sure to want to stay. Besides, I’m here to escort you two on your picnic. Every man in the fort clamored for the job, but I know how to get around your husband. All I had to do was promise to shine his boots f
or the next six months.”

  Something about his laughing manner made Emmie’s shields go up. Monroe had been lighthearted and carefree too. The facade had hidden his true heart of irresponsibility and falsehoods. Rand and Sarah might like Isaac, but Emmie wasn’t about to be betrayed again by smiling eyes.

  “Come right this way, ladies. Your steeds await you.”

  Sarah laughed as he took the picnic basket from her, but Emmie pressed her lips together and turned her gaze away.

  Isaac couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to Emmie. Her hair was as black and glossy as a raven’s wing, and the vulnerability in her haunted blue eyes tugged at him. Someone had hurt her, and the thought made him clench his fists.

  He led the buckskin mare to her side. “Molly’s a darling, aren’t you, girl? Look at her gentle eyes.” Isaac patted the insistent nose the mare thrust into his hand. “Have you ridden much, Miss Croftner?”

  “Not really, but I like horses.” She tentatively held out her palm, and the mare snuffled her velvet nose against it. “We had a pony when I was little. He was an old pinto and ornery.”

  “Well, Molly will be good for you. She’s gentle and sweet-natured.”

  “You sound as though you know a lot about horses.”

  “A fair bit. My family raised racehorses.”

  He offered his linked hands to help her mount the mare. After a moment’s hesitation, Emmie stepped into his hands, and he helped her up onto the sidesaddle. She adjusted her skirts and gathered the reins as he helped Sarah. Her friend’s horse was a placid bay with a wide back.

  Rand had given him explicit instructions on making sure the horse he picked for Sarah wouldn’t bolt or throw her off in her delicate condition.