He held his breath, trying to find some hint in her expressionless face of what she was thinking. Was she angry because she still didn’t want him to accompany her to her family? Maybe she’d thought he’d pack up and ride away this morning.
Finally, the line of her jaw eased. The movement was slight, but he’d been watching close enough to see it. “The next time you intend to raise a ruckus in the woods, please alert me before you begin.”
Understanding washed over him like a pail of icy river water. He’d frightened her. She must have thought her attackers had returned. He had all the thoughtfulness and sensitivity of a mountain goat, charging his way through his work without a thought to what she might think of his racket.
He took a step forward. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t even think about how much noise I’d be making. I just knew we’d need more wood, but it didn’t occur to me to speak to you first.” And now he sounded like a selfish boar.
She held her regal stance for another moment, then said, “We won’t need much wood. I’ll be ready to leave in another few days.”
The tightness inside him eased. A few days. Now, he had a time frame to work with, not the uncertainty he’d been fumbling with before. He set the ax head on the ground. “Take as long as you need. I don’t want you to feel rushed because of supplies. I’d thought to go hunting later today. I’m not sure how you’re set for food, but I only brought enough for a few days.”
She regarded him with a steadiness that was almost unnerving. “I have traps set, ready for me to check them.” She hadn’t answered his question exactly. It was clear she was still trying to be self-reliant.
He’d let her do what she was able, but he’d also make sure they both had food. “If I can bring in a deer, it sounds like we’ll be set.”
She returned his nod, then turned and walked back toward the cabin—her tread soundless, even through the brittle leaves of the forest floor. She must have learned that ability from her Peigan family.
IT WAS TIME TO LEAVE this place. Moriah sat wearily the next morning, nursing her half-asleep babe. Her body was growing stronger with each day. More time would be nice, but her spirit urged her to go. Perhaps danger was closing in.
She’d let Mr. Grant know her decision to allow him to accompany her, then take this day to pack. They could be on the trail the next morning. As much as she dreaded the trip, she was miserable here, holed up in this lonely cabin. The place smelled of desperation. Of fear. The long months after Henry’s death had been fraught with worry, but nothing like the night of Cherry’s birth. Pain beyond anything she’d imagined. Blood everywhere. The terror of fearing her babe had already died, destroyed by Moriah’s ineptness. Relief had come so powerfully that tears had streamed down her face when Cherry raised her first cry.
Though the fear had abated after the babe’s birth, it crept back more with each day as Moriah had struggled with each new aspect of motherhood.
Being the sole provider and protector and nurturer for her fragile daughter was pressing her to the edge of her sanity.
The sooner she left this place, the sooner she would have the help of her people. Maybe then she could find the peace she craved. Henry had said God was the source of serenity. And she’d believed that while her husband lived. She’d prayed for peace and felt it in some measure. But Henry’s death had stripped away whatever peace she’d gained through her new faith.
Surrounded by people she trusted, perhaps she could find the connection to God she’d been working so hard to develop. Even though her people didn’t know Him, she could share what she’d learned.
As daylight streaked the eastern sky, she peered through the peephole toward the little camp Grant had made beside the barn. He’d placed his fire far enough from the building that she didn’t worry about the structure catching flame, but it probably helped protect him from the wind.
Besides, she’d be losing the cabin and the land to the squatters the moment she left. It shouldn’t matter what happened to the buildings. Except she could still remember working alongside Henry as they built both structures. The task had formed a sort of unity between them that she missed.
Outside, Mr. Grant was adding logs to the low flame. He must have done that several times during the night for there to be any fire still burning now. She left her peephole, poured coffee, and scooped out a bowl of gruel. This meal could get tiresome, but at least it would fill him with warmth.
She needed to make pemmican today for their food on the trail. So much to do, even though she didn’t plan to pack much. The horses needed to be brought in from the pasture and checked over. Perhaps Mr. Grant could help with that. Lord, please let them still be there. She’d hidden the animals in a remote area where she didn’t think they’d be discovered by the men who’d been harassing her. But there was always a chance.
Cherry lay snuggled in her cradle, her sweet face innocent in sleep. Moriah hadn’t put the baby in the cradleboard like she normally did after her first early morning meal. Maybe it would be all right to let her daughter sleep while she took the food out. As long as she didn’t dawdle.
Mr. Grant straightened when she stepped outside, then stood and moved forward to meet her partway. “You’re a godsend, Mrs. Clark. Thank you for this.”
She nodded as he took the dishes. “There’s more coffee in the pot on the stove. Knock on the door when you finish this, and I’ll refill your cup.”
His mouth parted in a grin. “I’ll do that. Thanks.”
It was a wonder how a little thing like warm coffee and a hot meal could bring out a smile like that.
She turned back toward the house. “I need to get back in to the baby.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks again.”
She’d already stepped inside and fit the brace on its bar to lock the door before she realized she’d forgotten to tell him the most important part.
Tomorrow they’d be leaving. And it couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Four
I am resigned, and the thought of this change fills me with more relief than I should feel. Am I as weak as they once said?
~ Moriah
SAMUEL STOOD AT THE doorstep but couldn’t quite bring himself to knock on the cabin door. She said to come, you weakling. After two days, she’d finally offered. But he hated the thought of scaring her again, especially not for a mere cup of coffee.
A blast of icy wind blew through him, just as the gusts had done most of the day before. It felt like weeks since he’d been warm. Maybe that coffee would at least keep him from freezing until the sun strengthened a little.
He raised his fist and knocked before he could lose his nerve. “It’s me, ma’am. Just come for the rest of that coffee.”
Within seconds, a scraping sounded inside. The door cracked open, then moved wider, as though she’d wanted to make sure it truly was him before allowing access.
He held out his cup and couldn’t help a sheepish look. “Just wondered if you still had any of that coffee warm?”
Her face softened into what almost looked like a wisp of a smile as she took the tin and turned to the fireplace. Daylight wasn’t strong outside, so he could see inside the cabin without trouble. His gaze fell to a rough wooden cradle carved out of a hollowed log. As unique as the piece was, the angelic face inside was what drew his attention. Little Cherry slept peacefully, her mouth puckered in a tiny O. She had slight indentions above her brows as though she was concentrating hard on her dream.
Mrs. Clark approached him with the steaming cup, and he nodded toward the baby. “She’s like a little angel.” He kept his voice low, barely more than a whisper so he wouldn’t wake the child.
She paused for a second to watch her daughter sleep, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from studying the woman out of the corner of his eye. A soft smile eased over her face. “She is. Especially when she’s sleeping. I only wish she’d do more of that during the night.”
Then she turned back to him, her mouth pressing shut as
though she was sorry she’d said something so personal.
He offered a grin to ease her discomfort. “Doesn’t sleep through the night yet, huh?”
She shook her head. “She’s getting better, but we still have a ways to go.”
Then she straightened, her expression changing to her usual serious look. She motioned through the door. “Let’s go out so the cold doesn’t wake her.”
He obliged, his gut tightening as he stepped down the stoop to the ground below. She must have something significant to tell him.
When he turned to face her, she leveled her gaze on him. “I’ll be ready to leave out tomorrow morning. Will that suit?”
Tomorrow? When he’d startled her by chopping wood, she’d said she’d be well enough in the next few days, but he’d not expected her to be ready so soon. Could she have everything packed by then?
Still, he nodded. “Tomorrow is fine.” He’d accommodate her. “Do you need help packing? I saw three horses in a pasture on the other side of the woods. Should I bring them in?” And perhaps go for a hunt. He’d not made it out to find game yesterday either. One task had turned into another until it had been too late to start.
She looked a little uncertain. “I do need to bring the horses in. I should take care of it, or at least help you. There’s a yearling who will tag along if we bring the mares.”
Surely he could take this one thing off her shoulders. He gripped the warm mug with both his frozen hands. “I worked on a ranch in California for about three years, so I’m a decent hand with horses. Unless you just want to help, I can bring the mares in on my own.”
A flash of relief crossed her face, but it was so quick he might have misread her. “All right. Call for me if you get into trouble with them.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else I can do? I’ll go hunting this morning, then see if I can get the meat roasted this afternoon so we can take it with us.”
Her gaze lifted to stare out above his head, but her thoughts seemed far away. “That’s enough. Thank you.” Her tone was almost wistful, and he wasn’t entirely sure she was talking to him. Her expression seemed to be locked somewhere distant, or maybe into the past.
He should probably leave her to her thoughts. He had more than enough to do today, so he’d best get started.
Easing backward, he offered a parting nod. “Thanks again for the coffee.” Then he turned and walked away.
MORIAH WAS EXHAUSTED by the time late afternoon rolled around. The packing of her own things wasn’t hard. A few supplies for cooking on the journey, along with the scant remnants of food she had left. Her buckskins to wear when she was back among her people. She only wore the English clothes now because the pliable shirtwaist was easier to manage with nursing.
Most of the things she’d gathered in her life with Henry she wouldn’t be able to take with her. His clothes and the items he’d made or purchased for her through the years. She would take his Bible and the letters from his sister he’d been using to teach her to read English.
At first, she’d not wanted this life she and Henry had created together. She’d only agreed to marry him because her grandfather arranged the union. She’d trusted her grandfather, trusted that he would value her safety and happiness more than the goods he would receive in trade for her hand in marriage.
And he’d been right about Henry. Blessedly right.
Her gaze wandered toward the door as she turned the pemmican cakes over in the pan. What was Grant doing out there now? The sun had cleared away the bitter wind by mid-morning, and she’d taken Cherry out to soak in some of the warmth and check their traps. But the man wasn’t there. The low brush shelter he’d built was still in place, along with the pack he carried supplies in.
When she’d stepped outside again a few hours later, she’d seen him scraping a deer hide. Thinking of it now, she realized she should offer to roast the meat, especially since she had the better hearth and pan to do so.
After she finished the pemmican, she would ask.
But more than an hour passed before she’d finished her cooking and nursed the now bright-eyed baby. Finally, she bundled her daughter in the fur swaddling she’d stitched and held her against her shoulder. “Shall we go see Mr. Grant?”
Cherry bounced and made an effort to raise her head off Moriah’s shoulder, as though showing her excitement. Moriah couldn’t help a chuckle. “I know you like him. He seems to like you, too.”
She’d been surprised when he showed so much attention to the babe. Indian men usually paid little notice to the youngest members of the tribe, mostly because so many little ones didn’t survive their first few years. It was easier to bear the loss if there was not a strong connection with the child.
She tucked Cherry under her chin and breathed in the sweet baby smell. She couldn’t imagine not loving this sweet child. Losing her would be too much to even consider. These few weeks they’d spent together had changed Moriah in ways she’d never imagined. This all-consuming love, the determination to build them a happy future. She was so much fuller for the gift of this tiny baby. And definitely more exhausted.
When she pulled open the cabin door, she scanned the edge of the woods before settling her gaze on Samuel Grant. He knelt beside his campfire, and as she neared, she saw the sliced meat sizzling on a spit over the flame.
He turned to face her as she and Cherry approached, and his easy grin made her want to return the welcome. He had a way of settling her nerves. Whether she was worried or afraid or simply exhausted, a conversation with him always seemed to uncoil the knots inside her.
“I was just about to go bring in the horses, now that I have this last bit of meat started roasting.” He motioned to the baby. “How are you and Little Bit getting along? Find anything I can help with?”
So he didn’t need her help with the meat after all. She almost wanted to have something for him to do nearer the cabin, if only to have him around. She must be starved for human companionship. Before Samuel had arrived, it’d been six months since she’d had a conversation with another soul that didn’t involve rifle shots and threats.
Other than Cherry, of course.
Mr. Grant was waiting for a response, brows raised, so she shook her head. “Bringing in the horses is a big help. I thank you.”
He wiped his hands on a cloth, then stood. “I’ll get to it then.”
As he turned to walk away, something inside her squeezed tight, sending desperate words from her mouth before she could stop them. “Would you like to come inside later for the evening meal?”
He paused midstride, easing around to face her. “I’d like that.” He seemed to hold his breath, as though waiting for her to change her mind.
Should she pull her words back? He’d proved himself trustworthy thus far, but allowing a man inside the cabin was no small thing. Still, if she planned to travel alongside him and share a campsite, a stronger test of his honor might be a good idea. And since he’d slept in the bitter cold without complaint, the least she could do was offer him a warm meal in a heated cabin.
So she offered a nod. “I’ve been cooking for our journey, so it will be the same fare we eat for the next few days. But at least it’s warm.”
His easy grin came again. “Warm. That’s the best word I’ve heard in a long time.”
Cherry took that moment to make her presence known, bouncing on Moriah’s shoulder with a sweet baby coo. Moriah turned so the little one could see Mr. Grant.
“Hey, there.” He stepped nearer and gentled his tone. “Will you be there for the meal, too? I’ve never seen you this awake.”
The babe bounced again, lifting her head off Moriah’s shoulder with a jerk, then dropping it back down. Her sweet expression looked for all the world like a grin, although she hadn’t offered her first smile yet. Moriah’s heart couldn’t help but squeeze tight at the innocent happiness of her little daughter.
“I think she likes your voice.” Cherry’s exuberance must have rubbed off on her. She
shouldn’t have said that, and now she couldn’t quite bring herself to make eye contact with the man.
He chuckled. “I like her too, so it’s mutual.” He stepped back, finally giving Moriah space to gather her wits. “I’ll bring the horses in now. See you shortly.”
As he walked away, she eased out the breath that had been building inside her. Why did she seem to lose her good sense around this man? Nerves from being around another person after all these months alone? Maybe. Especially being around a man.
Yet there seemed something different about Samuel Grant and the way he affected her. She’d need to maintain better control around him. Especially as they would spend so much time together these next few days.
After that, he’d be gone forever. And she and Cherry could start a new life—a life she knew well.
And thought she’d never return to. Would her people accept her without concern? Or would they find her too much changed?
ONCE AGAIN, SAMUEL stood at the closed cabin door, preparing to knock. This time he made himself raise a fist and tap without pausing.
The rustle of footsteps sounded inside, then the grating of the brace that held the door tight. Her tread was always so quiet, surely she couldn’t be so silent wearing boots. Did she wear women’s slippers? He’d seen ladies wearing them in towns back east, but no woman in her right mind would wear silk slippers in this wilderness. Maybe she was simply skilled at softening her step in boots.
She cracked the door enough to confirm it was him, then widened the opening and stepped aside. “Come in.”
He stepped inside, and the warmth that met him was almost suffocating—in a delicious way. “Whew, this feels good.” He turned to offer a grin of thanks.
She didn’t meet his gaze, just closed the door, then approached the little table. She motioned toward the fire. “Warm yourself.”
An offer he wouldn’t refuse, and he tugged off his gloves as he sauntered toward the healthy blaze. “Where’s our little girl tonight?” He realized too late how those words sounded. Cherry wasn’t his girl, but he was surprised at how quickly fondness for her tiny face was growing within him.
This Daring Journey Page 3