Freedom in the Mountain Wind

by Misty M. Beller

  She had nothing left to give her father. Nothing that would make him more comfortable. All the medicines she’d brought had been used up—quicker than she’d expected, since he’d needed more as his symptoms worsened. Maybe they should have stayed back in Illinois, where they had access to medicines to ease his pain. But he’d never have experienced this spectacular country. Which choice would truly have been better for him?

  There was no reason to ponder the question at this point. All she could hope was that Beaver Tail would find the herb he sought and return quickly.

  And maybe, just maybe, he’d take her in his arms when he came, and she could soak in a bit of his strength. That wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

  Chapter 18

  The moment Susanna heard the whippoorwill just outside the circle of firelight, she knew it was Beaver Tail. As he stepped from the darkness, she studied him, trying to place exactly what was different. His gaze met hers, soaking through her, warming her. Distracting her.

  A question touched his eyes, and she knew without hearing the words he was asking how her father fared.

  She let her gaze drift to Pa, more to stem the attack of tears than anything. She couldn’t let herself weaken like this. It was exactly the reason she had to push all thoughts of Beaver Tail away. She couldn’t open up to him—to anyone—right now. It would only weaken her when she had to be strong.

  He stepped forward, holding up a leather satchel. “I found more marshmallow root.” He crouched beside her and opened the bag’s flap. “I also found some slippery elm. I’ve seen them both used for a cough like your father’s.”

  Joy surged inside her. “Thank you.” Something new to try. Maybe this would help even more than the marshmallow plant.

  While the men talked of their activities from the day and munched on the last of the biscuits—which had turned out better than she’d expected—she chopped the bark from the elm and tied it in a cloth to boil. She’d kept water heating for the past hour in preparation for Beaver’s return.

  She slipped a sideways glance his way as he knelt beside his pack. He seemed fine. Right now, he focused on French while the man told the tale of a covey of pheasant he’d surprised, but Beaver’s eyes flicked her way, and the corner of his mouth lifted. Just the tiniest glance, but it sent a warmth flooding through her chest. He had the power to affect her more than anyone she’d ever known.

  He rose and stepped toward Joel, a leather-wrapped bundle in his hand. In that instant, her mind registered two things at once. His step faltered, and a blank expression settled over his face, impossible to read. Almost like a mask he’d put in place to cover something. Something like pain.

  “You’re hurt.” She turned to face him fully.

  He froze, that blank expression cracking for an instant. Enough to reveal a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. She was right. He’d been trying to hide an injury.

  She pushed to her feet, a sliver of fear sliding through her. Not Beaver Tail. She couldn’t take one more person she cared about getting hurt. “What happened?”

  She scanned the length of him. Nothing looked amiss, although his leggings were plenty dirty. Which foot had he limped on? His left maybe.

  “It’s naught to worry over.” His voice maintained a steady, soothing cadence.

  The sound had the opposite effect. If he thought he could cover an injury just to pacify her… If he thought she was a wilting flower who couldn’t handle the hard truth... He’d see shortly just how much she could handle.

  “You’d better tell her, son.” Pa’s words drifted from where he lay on his bedroll. His voice was weak but stronger than he’d sounded all day. And maybe with a little mirth in his tone. “She’ll not let you rest until she satisfies her need to set things to right.”

  Beaver Tail straightened, the gesture so slight she might have imagined it. But she didn’t imagine the defiant set of his chin. He kept such a tight rein on his reactions, she’d thought him impossible to read those first few days. Like a statue, and just as handsome as the sketch she’d seen in a magazine of Michelangelo’s David.

  But now she knew better. She simply hadn’t been looking deep enough.

  As he met her gaze with slightly raised brows, she returned the look. Maybe his injury was in a place he didn’t want to expose. And she probably should be careful in tending a man not her relative. Especially a man who affected her so strongly.

  But she had to know for sure he wasn’t hurt badly. If he had an open wound that might fester, he could lose a leg, or even his life.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Pushing down the fear that clawed up her throat, she stepped toward him. “At least tell me what happened. Is it a knife wound? Did you fall on the rocks?”

  His head tilted as he studied her, but he still didn’t say anything. And didn’t look like he planned to. Stubborn man.

  She’d have to uncover the answers herself. Closing the distance between them, she bent and reached for the bottom of his leggings, which covered the leg he’d limped on.

  He gripped her shoulders, stopping her before she could touch the leather. Then he pulled her up to standing again, and she raised her gaze to meet his. She opened her mouth to ask again, but the piercing in his gaze made her pause.

  Yet, even though he could see all the way to her core, there was a gentleness in his eyes. “It’s only a snakebite. Nothing to be concerned over.”

  Snakebite. The word squeezed her chest so it was hard to breathe. She gripped his arm. “What kind of snake? Where did it bite you?”

  He’d said rattlers were the only venomous snakes in this area, and they’d seen more than a few these last several days, mostly in groups, sunning themselves on rocks near the river. But hadn’t he said the marshmallow root grew near the river?

  Oh, God. She gripped his arm tighter. The venom from a rattlesnake could kill a man. She might lose Beaver Tail before she even lost Pa. Lord, no.

  Beaver Tail must have sensed her rising panic, for he released her shoulders and dropped to one knee. “It’s nothing. The snake bit through my legging and moccasin, so it barely left a mark.”

  He made quick work of loosening the leggings on his tall moccasins, pulling them down far enough that he could work up the hem of his buckskin trousers. Shadows from the flickering firelight made his skin look like a darker copper than she suspected it really was.

  She crouched beside him to see the exposed place better. The swelling in his lower calf was impossible to miss, especially compared to the lean muscle around the area. Twin red marks broke the skin in the center of the raised part, but it was the dark bruising spreading away from the punctures that made her suck in a breath.

  No wonder he limped.

  Looking up, she met his gaze. “How long ago did this happen?”

  He shrugged. “Before I started back.”

  She raised her brows at his hedging. “An hour? Two?” Maybe he wasn’t accustomed to measuring time in minutes and hours. “Was the sun starting to set yet?”

  “It had just touched the mountains.” He began to work his hem back down, but she grabbed his wrist.

  “Wait. Let me think if I have anything we can poultice it with.” What had their neighbor used the time their youngest son was bitten? Eggs and gunpowder, and maybe some whiskey mixed in. She didn’t have eggs or whiskey. Would the gunpowder work on its own?

  Maybe a simple healing salve would be best. Beaver’s leg wasn’t as swollen as that poor boy’s had been. The lad’s ankle had grown to almost the size of his head.

  “Stay put.” She moved back to the medicine pack and pulled out the salve, then hesitated over her bandages. Should she wrap the wound? Beaver Tail might object, but he’d probably humor her if she pressed. At least a cloth tied around the leg would keep the ointment in place.

  After gathering what she needed, she turned back to Beaver Tail and set to work.

  “Sit down and rest your leg in front of you.”

  Beaver fought a smile at the de
termination marking Susanna’s pretty face. But he did what she commanded, stretching both legs in front of him. In truth, his wound didn’t need tending. He’d been bitten before and seen many more rattler bites on others.

  The animal’s venom had been mostly absorbed by his leathers as the fangs pierced them, so all he had to worry over was a constant throbbing and a little swelling. They would pass soon enough.

  He was much more concerned about the woman now bent over his leg. The last thing he wanted was to bring more hardship on her, or give her one more thing to fret about. That was why he’d hidden the wound to begin with—or at least attempted to.

  Her savviness was one more thing he liked about her. But not when it brought her pain.

  “Susanna.” He couldn’t help but reach out and finger the braid that had slipped over her shoulder. With the others sitting nearby, resuming the conversation his entrance had interrupted, he wouldn’t do more than touch this tip of hair. Even though his fingers itched to pull her to him. But if he chased that thought, he’d run into a host of trouble.

  “Yes?” She’d applied the salve and now wrapped a cloth around his leg. She didn’t look up from her work. Instead, her pretty brow furrowed with her focus.

  He’d been about to tell her again not to worry about him, but that would be a waste of words. Maybe instead, he could distract her from her fears. “I saw my beaver friend again. He Who Is Brave.”

  She raised her head, curiosity brightening her features. “Not the same one you fed that other time. Do beavers roam this far?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought it, but he has patches of light brown circling each of his front legs up near the shoulders. An unusual marking. He was still brave this time, taking the aspen branches I offered.”

  She’d straightened as he spoke, and now a gentle smile curved her mouth. “You’ve made a friend.” She tipped her head, her eyes growing curious. “Do you think this is his home? Is there enough wood here for him to build a dam?”

  “Not to sustain him through the winter. But there’ll be more as we move deeper into the mountains.”

  Merriment danced in her eyes. “Maybe he’ll continue as our traveling companion then.”

  She turned back to his leg and tied a knot in the bandage. “There. Now stay still so your blood doesn’t carry the venom through your body. I’m sure your walk back already accomplished that, but we should still be careful.”

  He didn’t like the thought of being tied down, but he’d sit for a while if it eased her mind.

  In truth, he’d willingly do a great deal more for her than sit still. He’d never thought to feel this way about a woman. But he’d not thought he’d meet a woman like Susanna.

  Susanna watched the man standing alone by the edge of the cliff. She’d never seen so much loneliness bound in a single figure. Outlined by the morning sun, he looked like the only man for miles around—or at least, he looked as if he felt that way. The pain in Joel’s form made her own heart ache.

  “He’s not angry about stayin’ another day, ya know.” Caleb’s voice accompanied the sound of his footsteps as he moved beside her. “I mean, he would like to head out and find Adam, but he understands why we need to wait.”

  She looked over—or rather, up at him. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. Caleb was just kind enough to say something like this to make her feel better.

  In truth, Pa’s health hadn’t improved. If anything, he’d worsened through the night. He hadn’t risen that morning except to relieve himself, and merely moving from his bed pallet had caused him pain. Pa had lost so much weight, she probably could have lifted him herself, but Caleb and French had been there to aid him.

  Maybe if she could get him to eat more, he would regain his strength. He claimed his belly wouldn’t hold anything other than the little bits he picked up.

  At least the men had all accepted their staying in this place another day. Even Joel had nodded, although his silence worried her more than if he’d spoken his thoughts on the matter.

  Now, he stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down into the river, and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than his lonely form.

  “Do you think he would mind if I went to talk to him?” Maybe there wasn’t a way to ease his angst, but she could at least thank the man for this sacrifice.

  Caleb shrugged. “Go ahead. I imagine he’d like a pretty lady seeking him out.” He cut her a sideways grin. “Even if Beaver Tail has already staked his claim on you.”

  Heat flared up her neck, making her want to duck like a turtle into its shell. “Staked his claim?” She tried for a light tone, something teasing.

  “Yep.” He sent her a wink, which made everything worse.

  She’d best move away from Caleb before her ears turned crimson and gave her away completely. She cleared her throat to gather her wits. “I’m going to talk with Joel.”

  A chuckle drifted behind her as she marched forward.

  Chapter 19

  Susanna had to pick her way to Joel through the grass and prickly pear, what little was left after the buffalo stampede anyway. If they didn’t get rain soon, the tromped vegetation might not grow back until spring.

  Joel surely heard her coming, but he didn’t acknowledge her until she stopped beside him. He glanced at her, then turned back to face the vast canyon below, where the river ran through like a wide snake.

  The thought of a snake immediately brought Beaver Tail to the front of her mind. In truth, he was always somewhere in her thoughts. But she pushed back the image of him sitting by the fire the night before, distracting her from her worries with the story of his beaver friend.

  Just now, she needed to focus on the hurting man beside her. This was a good reminder that she wasn’t the only person in the world who had pressing worries.

  After they’d stood for a moment in quiet, she finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry we’ve delayed you another day. But I thank you for allowing my father a chance to recover his strength.”

  As though to punctuate her words, a deep croaking cough sounded from their camp. It didn’t last nearly as long as some of the other coughing spells. Pa probably didn’t have the strength a long episode required.

  When the sound died away, Joel turned to her. “I’m sorry he’s suffering so.”

  She met his gaze, and the earnestness in his dark eyes caught her by surprise. No anger flashed in their depths, only deep sincerity.

  He turned back toward the river with a sigh that seemed to leak out of his soul. “I’m not upset about the delay. I need to find my brother, but it’s already been this long. Another few days can’t make much difference.”

  Something about the desolation in his voice belied his words. Did he think his brother had died or would never be found? If that was what he truly believed, he may not want to talk about his fears.

  She well knew that feeling. She still couldn’t bring herself to speak or even think much about Pa’s fate, especially now that his days seemed so numbered. It was easier to dwell on the good times. Those periods when life had been normal.

  Maybe that would help Joel, too. “Were you and your brother born in the States?”

  He shook his head. “Andalusia.”

  “That’s in southern Spain?” It had been quite a while since she’d seen a world map.

  “The land of beautiful horses.” A fondness curved his lips upward. “We both had horses in our blood, but Adam really loved them. The animals from our homeland are majestic. Big creatures with long flowing manes and exquisite pedigrees. Known all over the world for their beauty and abilities.”

  He let out a huff. “When we met a Mandan chief on the way up the Missouri who told us of the unusual horses of the Shoshone and Pierced Nose Indians, Adam could barely contain himself. A couple of the braves were taking a more direct route to trade with those Indians, and he begged us to go with them. To see the great horses the Mandan spoke of with spots all ove
r their bodies and superior abilities in speed and endurance.”

  Joel slid a sideways glance her way. “Adam never could turn down the chance to see a new special horse.” Then he stared forward again. “I should have agreed. Even though winter was coming fast and we were pushing hard to reach Beaver Tail’s camp before the snow grew bad, I knew how much he wanted to go with those braves. I knew he’d not let it rest.”

  A long silence settled over him. She’d been told the outcome of the story. Adam had gone to find the tribes with their unusual horses. But she had a feeling there was more to the brothers’ parting than a simple farewell.

  She should leave it alone, but she still found herself asking, “Adam decided to go with the Mandan braves on his own?”

  Joel’s mouth tightened to a thin line before he finally spoke. “He left in the night. I found a note beside me that said he and the braves he was traveling with expected to reach the Shoshone before the first snow. He’d winter with them and find the horses the Mandan told us about. When spring came, he’d follow the Missouri north to find us at Beaver Tail’s camp.”

  She gave a single nod. “Sounds reasonable.” If a person were comfortable traveling with men he’d just met, to a band of Indians he had no way of knowing were friendly. With a hard winter coming fast. Adam must have quite an adventurous streak—and no fear.

  Joel slid her another glance. “That’s what I told myself. Adam was older than I and always did what he wanted. I’ve never been able to stop him when he got an idea in his head. And frankly, this time, I didn’t want to go along.” The look that passed through his dark eyes held so much regret, her chest ached.

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, but that didn’t feel right. So instead, she offered a sad smile. “Everyone needs a chance to follow their dreams.” After all, that was why she and Pa had traveled a thousand miles to this majestic wilderness.