Freedom in the Mountain Wind

by Misty M. Beller

  He tried to read in her expression what troubled her so much. Did she think her father was able to continue on? Why would she want to push him? Maybe she worried they weren’t safe in this place.

  He glanced around once more, just to make sure there wasn’t a danger he’d missed. All was remarkably quiet, save the murmur of the river far below. On this plain, there was no way an enemy could approach undetected. They would be as safe here as anywhere.

  Turning back to Susanna, he met her gaze. “It’s good to stay here the rest of the day. Tomorrow we can move on.”

  She still looked worried, but she nodded, then shifted her focus back to her father.

  Something about her expression felt off to him. Seemed he’d not discovered the root of her concern. It shouldn’t matter to him. As long as she and her father were safe and they didn’t stop him from accomplishing what he needed to, this woman’s thoughts shouldn’t cause him worry.

  And yet worry he did.

  Susanna picked her way through the darkness, across ground churned by thousands of hooves. The horses nickered softly ahead of her in response to the man she sought. As much as she wanted to avoid the topic, she needed him to know how grateful she was that he’d allowed Pa to rest this afternoon.

  Yet she didn’t want to hold them back. And the last thing she wanted was for them to ride away without her and Pa. The thought of being left behind—alone, with Pa’s condition worsening so quickly—frightened her more than anything.

  Well…not more than anything. Not more than the worst possible thing.

  But she couldn’t dwell on the thought of losing her father. She had to do whatever it took to stay with these men. Their protection and help had become more valuable than she’d ever imagined. And Pa seemed to relish their company.

  When she reached the horses, she couldn’t see Beaver Tail, yet she knew he was there. He would make himself known when he was ready.

  She rubbed each horse she came to, spending a few extra moments with her gelding. This sweet horse had been an able partner during their time on the trail, especially today during the ordeal with the buffalo.

  Susanna’s gut churned as the memories flooded through her. What an impulsive chit she’d been. One more thing she needed to offer Beaver Tail—an apology.

  “Your father is sleeping?” The man shifted from her thoughts into a shadowy form at the mare’s head. His sudden presence should have startled her, but it seemed as natural as breathing.

  “Finally. He drank three cups of the tea with marshmallow root and licorice before the coughing fits stopped.” Getting so much dust in his lungs had kept Pa coughing all afternoon. One more awful result of her foolishness.

  “He needs the rest.” Beaver Tail’s voice held a gentleness she hadn’t heard often. A tenderness she wanted to soak into.

  But his words were the opening she needed. She inhaled a strengthening breath. “Thank you for calling a halt so my father could recover, but we don’t want to hold up the journey. We’ll be ready to ride out with you all in the morning.”

  She steeled herself for his reply, but silence was her only answer. That and the chirping of crickets, the chomping of horse teeth in grass, the distant flowing of the Missouri River—all the sounds that normally soothed her. Yet her body tensed more the longer his silence stretched.

  “Your father isn’t the only one who needed to rest this day. Joel wasn’t ready for a full day’s ride either. We can wait to see how they both fare at the sun’s rise. Maybe it’s best to stay in this place another day.”

  No. She’d seen Joel’s impatience so many times already. He’d force himself to ride on tomorrow morning no matter how weak he felt.

  And if her father wasn’t able to keep up, she and Pa would be left behind. As kind as these men had been, they had their own lives to live. Their own mission to accomplish.

  She shook her head. “My father will be well enough in the morning. I’m sure of it.” While she was at it, she should go ahead and finish what had to be said. “Also, I need to apologize for starting the stampede earlier. Riding into that herd was foolish and reckless. I shouldn’t—” Her voice broke as memory of what her actions had wrought poured over her. How much longer would the dust from all those hooves hover in the air? Pa struggled to breathe under normal conditions. The last thing she’d wanted was to make his struggle worse.

  “There’s never knowing what causes a stampede, but I doubt you riding into the herd made them run.” His words were quiet. Confident.

  If only she could feel as confident.

  Beaver Tail was silent again, and she could feel his scrutiny, even in the darkness, as though he could read through her defenses, could see her fears and flaws underneath. Could see the desperate little girl she was trying so hard to cover up.

  “What is it you’re afraid of?” His voice was gentle, yet probing.

  Maybe he hadn’t seen everything inside her yet, but he was getting close. He’d realize it all soon enough, so she might as well tell him. At least this way, she could present her fears in a way that didn’t make her sound fully helpless.

  She swallowed to clear her throat. “You all have been such a help with my father’s weakness. Your protection has been”—she struggled to find a word strong enough—“very appreciated.” That didn’t say the half of it, but she pressed on. “I don’t want you to feel like we’re slowing you down. I know Joel is eager to find his brother. You all are.”

  There. He would read between her words and understand it all, but at least she’d not sounded like the helpless little girl she felt like so often these days.

  Night shadows darkened his face so she couldn’t read his thoughts. He took a step nearer, and his presence loomed large before her. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. And part of her did—a very small part. The only part that was still brave and strong.

  She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself. To find strength in that tiny protection.

  “Susanna, we won’t leave you. You have my word. Whatever I can do for your father’s comfort, I’ll do it. And for your safety.” He took another step toward her, and his words seemed to loosen something inside her. How could she have doubted him after all the protection he’d offered them already? In that moment, she knew her fears had been unfounded. Of course Beaver wouldn’t leave her. This protector would never abandon her and her father.

  She stepped into his arms. Arms she’d not even seen open to her. But they wrapped around her now, tightening in a hold so secure—so safe—she wanted to stay in this place forever.

  Chapter 17

  Beaver Tail couldn’t remember an action ever feeling so right as this one, holding this woman in his arms.

  This touch went against everything his past had taught him. Was opposite to what his mind said was wise. But something inside had pushed him toward her. Had opened his arms to receive her.

  If there was a Great Spirit, then Beaver Tail might have believed he or she had prompted him. No matter the reason, holding Susanna as she clung to him had somehow drawn a warmth through him stronger than he’d ever experienced. He’d never felt such a fullness. Such a completeness.

  She melded to him, her breaths rising and falling between them. He could feel the beating of her heart, and she must have been able to sense the racing of his own.

  When she pulled back, he wasn’t ready to let her go. Thankfully, she didn’t retreat far, only enough so she could look up at him. He kept his hold tight around her back.

  Her striking beauty made his chest clench, with the sliver of moon shimmering in her eyes. Eyes that always captured him, yet now they possessed a power to hold him in an unyielding grip.

  She didn’t speak. A good thing, for words would have ruined the moment. What passed between them, what shifted inside him, was more powerful than words could ever express. The fact that Susanna understood, that she didn’t try to fill the space with talk, made him appreciate her even more.

  As his eyes roamed
her face, every feature strong yet fragile, an urge planted deep inside him. The urge to protect was nothing new, yet there was more. A desire to cherish, to show her how special she was.

  He kept one hand around her back, but raised the other to cradle her cheek. So soft she was, especially under his rough palm. And her eyes…they drew him nearer. Pulled him closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his chin.

  He dropped his forehead to hers. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to simply relish her nearness. To savor this sweetness he’d never thought possible.

  But the longer he held her so close, the stronger his first desire grew. Would she even want his kiss? With their brows joined, the softness of her under his skin, he could do nothing to frighten her. Only cherish.

  He pulled back and met her eyes. Searched them. Her gaze dropped to his lips, giving her answer in a way that sluiced through him.

  His lungs ceased working as he lowered his mouth, ever so slowly. The anticipation of her lips tightened everything inside him. Just before his mouth met hers, he paused to savor her once more. The warmth of her breath, the tiny catch of air as she swallowed, her jaw working under his hand. Everything about her was perfect.

  He closed the distance, brushing her mouth with his, tasting her sweetness. Her lips were a little rough from long days in the sun, and that protective urge welled up within him. He caressed them with his own, savoring each touch.

  Her response was strong yet unschooled, and it made him want to protect her even more. Even from himself. He moved slowly, not pushing too deep. Until she threaded her fingers through his hair, cupping her hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

  The touch loosed desire inside him, and he deepened the kiss. She was more than he’d ever dreamed of. Her touch, her taste, like the sweetest drink. And he gulped her in.

  Yet a pulse in the back of his mind forced its way forward. Protect—at any cost. He softened his touch, tightening his hold on his desire. Loosening his hold on her waist. Caressing her mouth. Taking her breaths inside him as fuel for his own body.

  This woman… She undid him, yet made him want to be better. Made him want to be the man she needed.

  When desire threatened to take over again, he drew back completely. Separating their lips, pulling away enough to drink in her beauty with his eyes.

  Her own eyes were wide, and with a shadow cast over them, he couldn’t see her expression. But from the way her chest heaved, the way she stayed soft under his hand at her waist, he could imagine how their pretty brown color had darkened. And her swollen lips…

  If he didn’t rein in his eyes and thoughts, he’d be pulling her tight again, pushing his restraint aside.

  A sadness swept through her, an emotion he felt as much as he saw in the scant light illuminating her features.

  She tucked her lips in. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Pain pierced his chest. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel regret. Not when this new closeness had opened a freedom he’d not known possible.

  He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone, memorizing the lines of her with his fingers. “Don’t back away.” It was his heart’s cry, but the words came out so paltry. So desperate. He’d never been able to say what he really meant with words.

  Her chest rose as she inhaled a breath. Her body trembled a little with the effort. “My father. I can’t… My focus needs to be on him.”

  Understanding crept through him. She wasn’t rejecting him. Wasn’t denying the intense connection between them. She simply didn’t think she could open herself to him when so much of her internal strength was being poured out for her father.

  And in that second, he knew with certainty she expected her father to pass away. Maybe they’d been told such by the healers they’d sought out before. Or maybe it was an inner knowing. But this was the reality she struggled under.

  With an ache searing through the center of his chest, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. She clung to him, gripping his shirt with a desperation he could feel in every part of him. Perhaps he shouldn’t kiss her again, but he would be there for her. He would protect her from the outside and do his best to shore up her insides.

  Together, they would face what lay before them.

  Susanna kneaded the dough as best she could, using the pan as a worksurface. She’d expected that cooking over an open fire would be the most challenging part of making biscuits out here in the wilderness, but finding a decent place to work was almost as hard. She was probably touched in the head to think she could bake out here, but she had just enough flour left to make a batch of Pa’s favorite treat. Although without yeast, they’d probably end up as hard clumps.

  If the batch was too awful, maybe she wouldn’t share them with anyone but her father. No sense in making the others think she didn’t know her way around a kitchen. She’d handled cooking for her and Pa since she was twelve, and she’d ruined more than one pan of biscuits since then, too. Her father, of course, always ate whatever she set before him. He’d even taught her to see the humor in attempts that didn’t end so well.

  Would Beaver Tail be able to find the amusement in cooking gone ill? At the moment, she wasn’t even sure she would be able to accomplish that feat. Her emotions were in such a turmoil, especially when it came to that man.

  His kiss had been…there weren’t words to describe the incredible feeling of being so cherished. Her innermost self had come back to life, and she hadn’t even realized how parched and shriveled she’d become.

  She’d never wanted a man before, not the way she desired Beaver Tail. It wasn’t just his handsome appearance, with features perfectly formed and so striking, her heart ached every time she looked at him. But what attracted her to him was so much more than outward appearance. He was strong and capable—and when he’d held her, she’d felt the warmth of his safety. Of his strength. For the first time in so long, she’d not been the one with the weight of responsibility smothering her.

  Yet she did have responsibilities, and hiding from them would do no good for anyone. Her father was dying, whether she wanted to face it or not. His weakness and almost constant coughing today only proved how quickly he was withering. She had to focus all her efforts on making Pa comfortable. On easing his pain.

  On bringing what pleasure she could to his final days.

  She didn’t have the energy to worry about anything or anyone else. Not even Beaver Tail.

  “This is the last of the wood that’ll do any good for burning.” Caleb kept his voice low as he crept into camp and eased the load down in a pile near the fire. He glanced over at her father. “Glad to see he’s finally sleepin’. That cough is awful enough, I feel the pain right along with him.” He grimaced with the words, then took off his hat and swiped a sleeve across his brow. “French is gatherin’ up buffalo chips to finish off what we’ll need to burn tonight.”

  His gaze landed on the dough she was cutting into circles. “Lands, is that what I think it is? Tell me those are biscuits.”

  The pleasure in his voice almost pulled a smile from her. “I hope they turn out. I don’t have yeast, and it’ll be a trick to bake them over this open fire.”

  “You tell me what you need, Miss Susanna, and I’ll get it or make it or whatever I have to do. I never have tasted anything so good as my mama’s biscuits, God rest her. I’ve craved them every day since she left this earth.”

  She sent him a glance. “I’m sure they were wonderful, but please don’t get your hopes up too high about these.”

  “You know what? I think French still has some honey tucked away from that hive we found right after we started out. That’d make ’em taste just like Mama’s did.” He spun as if he planned to sprint out and find the man to make certain. Then he paused and looked back at her. “You need anythin’ else, Miss Susanna? Water maybe?”

  Now he did pull a smile from her. There was something about this overgrown boy she couldn’t help but lo
ve. “Not a thing.”

  And he was off. Not in a sprint, but his long legs covered the ground in huge strides.

  A thought caught her before he’d gone far. She straightened and called after him, “Where’s Joel?”

  He turned and walked backwards as he pointed along the river’s edge. “Out seein’ the sights.”

  And probably walking off his impatience with another day in camp. Joel hadn’t argued the need to wait another day, but he’d been awfully quiet after Beaver Tail made the announcement.

  She’d seen the two men talking by the horses a few minutes later, and Joel didn’t seem quite as terse after that. She could only pray he wouldn’t grow angry or bitter over the delay.

  His own wounds had looked much better when she’d changed the bandage that morning. The fresh bleeding that started after yesterday’s ride had stopped, and the inflamed skin around the edges seemed to be settling.

  If only Pa’s sickness could heal so easily.

  She placed the last of the biscuit rounds in the makeshift rock oven she’d created, then used a flat stick to heap red coals over the unit. As she brushed the dust from her hands, the sound of Pa’s coughing broke the quiet.

  His voice had faded to a whisper from so much irritation in his throat, and his coughs were equally raspy. Even as she turned to see what she could do to help him, part of her wanted to look away so she didn’t have to watch him struggle. A very selfish part of her.

  How frail his body had become. As he lay on his side, his frame convulsing in deep hacks, blood trickled from his mouth like spit. She had to swallow down the bitter taste of her own bile as she crawled to his side.

  The coughs finally ceased, and she wrung a wet cloth from the dish beside him to wipe his forehead. He sent her a grateful look but didn’t seem to have enough strength to lift his head from where it lay on his arm. His eyelids drifted shut.

  She’d given him the last of the tea from the marshmallow root earlier, but, thankfully, Beaver Tail had gone to look for more. Lord, let him find it.