“Here. Thank you.”
He eased back around and took the cup, his focus grazing her face as he did. She was the same woman he’d ridden beside minutes before, her grateful smile now evident. The drink seemed to have revived her.
He nodded, forcing his racing heartbeat to ease. Forcing himself to act naturally. “I’ll get more meat for you.”
She nodded. “If you look in the right side of my saddle pack, I’ve wrapped up some pemmican. That should go well with the venison.”
“I’ll find it.” He turned away and forced himself not to break into a run as he retreated toward the horses. As he went, he sent up a prayer. God, I think I’m gonna need a different kind of strength than I expected on this trip. Help. Please.
When he brought the refilled cup and pemmican, he was surprised to find that Mrs. Clark had already finished the large chunk of meat he’d left with her. She surely was eating for two. He’d need to do a better job of making sure she had enough throughout the day.
“Can I bring you anything else?” He was doing better at making eye contact without his ears melting.
She leaned her head back against the tree as she took another sip of the water. “This is wonderful. Thank you. We won’t be much longer.” She looked exhausted, but not as desperately so as she had when they’d first dismounted.
“All right then. I’m going to check the horses. Call if you need anything.”
It was at least a quarter hour later before he heard her soft voice drifting through the trees. He gave the mare he’d been stroking a final pat, then turned and strode back to Mrs. Clark.
As she came into view around the trees, he could see she’d removed the blanket that had been covering her. The cloth now lay on the ground with the tiny baby resting atop it. Cherry wore some kind of gown and had both fists wrapped around her mother’s fingers. The baby’s legs kicked the air, probably enjoying the freedom of not being wrapped in all those layers.
Mrs. Clark looked up as he approached and shared that soft smile with him that she’d been giving her daughter. “I think we’re feeling much better now.”
He lowered himself to sit in front of a tree a couple strides away from the pair, close enough he could see the expressions on both their faces.
“She doesn’t like her feet touched.” Her voice kept that smile as she stroked her thumbs over the bottom of the babe’s tiny feet. The infant tucked her knees, pulling away from her mother’s touch, then kicked out.
He couldn’t help a chuckle. “She’s as ticklish as I am.” He leaned closer so the baby could see his face. “I don’t blame you, little girl. I don’t like my feet touched either.”
The baby’s eyes grew round as she stared at him, her mouth puckering in a circle.
He scrambled for something else to say now that he had her attention. “You sure are a pretty thing. I never knew people could come this small. I think your feet are tinier than my thumb.”
She worked her mouth like a fish as she stared at him.
So, he kept up his rambling. “How’d you like riding that horsey this morning? Did ya get a good nap? I’ve always thought it’d be fun to sleep on my horse. I tried it one time, but when I fell off, the ground woke me up awful quick.”
Cherry shook her head, and kicked her feet out again. He’d lost her attention, but he’d held it longer than he expected.
Leaning back, he sent a grin to Mrs. Clark. “She’s a cutie.”
She nodded her face softening as her focus drifted back to her daughter. Silence settled over them as she wiggled the babe’s hands and stroked her legs. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else, though.
She’d probably like a moment to herself. He’d had a whole half hour to see to the horses and tend to personal things, but she’d been tied up with the baby the entire time.
He cleared the sludge from his throat. “If you’d like, I can sit with her while you take a few minutes to stretch your legs.”
She jerked a look at him. Her expression seemed to be half wary, half hope. That wariness would probably win out, though. She’d already turned down one offer of help while they ate the night before.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Her words nearly knocked him backward. “Of course not. Miss Cherry and I’ll have a nice conversation while you’re gone.” He smiled at the baby. “Right, little one?”
She made some kind of cooing noise as she waved her hand.
“She might get cold if I leave her on the blanket. It’d be better if you hold her.” She started peeling up corners of the cloth so the baby’s lower half was bundled tight. Then she scooped up the little parcel and held her out to Samuel.
He froze at the sight. He hadn’t been thinking he’d hold the fragile little thing. He wanted to, but what if he accidentally hurt her? When he offered, he’d been planning just to talk and play with her. But Mrs. Clark needed a few minutes. The least he could do was hold the babe if that’s what she needed.
He held out his hands the same way she had hers positioned.
She hesitated, a frown marring her brow. “Cradle your arms, and I’ll set her in them.”
It wasn’t as easy to do that as he’d thought, but he managed to position one arm atop the other.
She eased the babe into his hold, but the bundle wasn’t any heavier than the blanket alone would be.
“Are you sure she’s in there? She doesn’t weigh anything.”
Mrs. Clark looked up at his attempt at a joke but didn’t smile. “Be very careful with her head. She can’t hold it up by herself, so you have to support it at all times.”
“Support the head.” He could barely breathe as the realization of his responsibility sank over him. This child’s life was literally in his hands. He couldn’t make a mistake.
Pushing down the surge of fear, he looked up to meet Mrs. Clark’s gaze. “Go for a walk. We’ll be right here when you get back.”
She hesitated, her coffee-colored eyes troubled as they searched his. “Call me if you have trouble.”
He nodded. “If I need you, I’ll make sure you hear me.”
She lingered another moment, then eased back, stood, and walked away.
Cherry was quiet for the first minutes. When he talked, she kept those smoky blue eyes fixed on him, so he talked until he ran out of things to say.
Then she started to fuss. She squirmed and twisted as if she was trying to wiggle out of his arms. Maybe moving a little would settle her. The rocking of the horse had sure done the trick that morning.
He eased himself to his feet—not an easy task to accomplish without jostling the wee one. The movement stopped her fidgeting, though, so he walked, shuffling around in a little circle. She seemed to like it best when he added a bounce in his step.
As he strolled around and around, bouncing and swaying, a song slipped into his mind. Maybe it was something Ma had sung. Or maybe one of his sisters. He couldn’t remember all the words, but he found the tune and hummed, fitting in the words where he knew them.
As deep as it was, his voice wasn’t much to listen to, but the sound seemed to fascinate little Cherry. Not only were her round eyes locked on his face, but they seemed to have a little sparkle in them.
Maybe it was ridiculous to think a baby’s eyes could sparkle, but the way she looked at him tugged something deep down in his chest. He’d never imagined a little baby could affect him this much. But this little girl had lassoed him so securely, he could imagine himself giving his life to keep her safe.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he lifted his gaze, breaking off his song.
Mrs. Clark stood a few strides away. Motionless. Watching him.
A burn crept up his back, heating his ears. How much had she seen? Had she heard his off-key singing? He did his best to shrug his embarrassment away. “We were just taking some exercise. I think we entertained each other.”
She stepped forward, and in the flickering light of the trees’ shadows, it was hard to c
atch her expression. Softer, for sure. As she neared, her gaze locked on the child in his arms, and he couldn’t help but take the opportunity to stare at Cherry’s mama. She was so pretty with her tawny skin as perfect as darkened porcelain.
He shouldn’t be thinking these things, but it seemed impossible not to. As long as he didn’t act on his thoughts, he’d be all right.
She reached for the baby, and he held out his arms to make the child easier to grasp. Her fingers brushed his during the exchange, and the sensation that shot up his arm was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He had to work to keep from jerking back.
As Mrs. Clark snuggled the babe in her arms, Samuel couldn’t help reaching out to stroke a finger over Cherry’s soft hair. “Thanks for keeping me company, little one.”
The babe’s eyes drifted low, as though he’d completely worn her out. He knew the feeling. This last quarter hour had been more work than he’d expected, too.
Mrs. Clark raised her face to him. “Thank you. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
Standing so near, her pretty face looking at him with that soft expression, his body had the sudden urge to step forward and kiss her.
He stepped back, forcing his mind onto her words. “I’ll bring the horses around.”
He needed some space to clear his head. Space...and God’s help.
Chapter Seven
“I’ve done everything I can, yet it seems insufficient.”
~ Samuel
MORIAH KEPT ONE HAND around the bundle strapped to her front as she eased down from her horse. Cherry had been asleep for about an hour, and she might sleep a while longer and give her mother a chance to do something helpful for once. It seemed like all day long, Mr. Grant had been doing for her, seeing to her horses, and handling her chores. The least she could do was lay out the meal for them tonight. And she was so very thirsty.
He held her mare’s reins, along with those of his own horse, while she pulled out the food pack. Then she nodded her thanks, and he led the animals away. The yearling trotted along with them. The colt had done well staying with the group throughout the day, even though he ran free. It was a relief they didn’t have to worry about tethering him.
Before starting on the meal, she drank her fill at the creek beside their camping spot. Nursing made her so thirsty, she’d emptied her leather canteen within an hour of leaving the creek.
The meal would be a simple affair, yet she was hungry enough to eat anything at this point. Hopefully Samuel felt the same way. She should start a fire, but every muscle in her body protested the thought of gathering wood and bending low to start the flame. Maybe they could do without.
But the night would be cold. Too cold for Cherry without a source of heat nearby. She set the food pack aside and rose to gather tender. By the time she had a flame burning, Samuel arrived with an armful of logs.
“I could’ve seen to the fire.” He spoke in a low voice to keep from waking the baby.
She ignored the comment, both because she didn’t want to chance waking Cherry and because he shouldn’t have to do everything. She would handle her share of the work.
They had a nice fire leaping and had just sat down to a meal of the same cold food they’d eaten at midday when Cherry’s soft grunts sounded from the blanket where she was snuggled.
Moriah put down her pemmican with a sigh. “She always seems to know when I’m about to eat.”
That low, rumbling chuckle drifted from Samuel. “Shall I hold her for a minute? You must be starved.”
She shook her head. “She needs to be changed and fed. I’ll take my food with me while I tend her by the creek.” She didn’t mind him being around while the baby nursed as long as she was covered, but the process of getting to that point would require privacy.
He jumped to his feet. “Stay here and take care of her. I need to finish settling the horses anyway.” He strode away before she could argue the point.
This man was so different from any she’d known before. The Indian braves kept a clear distinction between men’s work and women’s. And even Henry, as kind as he’d been, didn’t go out of his way to help her. They’d each had their own role and had done what was expected.
But Samuel Grant... He didn’t keep to the task boundaries she was accustomed to. As odd as it was, she could easily enjoy this care. Yet she couldn’t allow herself to grow attached. In only a few days, he’d be on his way, and she’d never see him again.
She’d wrapped Cherry in a new cloth and nursed her, but Samuel still hadn’t returned. When had she begun to think of him by his Christian name? She should call him Mr. Grant, even in her thoughts, to keep some distance.
Gathering up the baby and the bundle of soiled cloths from the day, she headed toward the creek. She’d love the chance to wash herself and rinse clean her milk-sodden shirtwaist. She did have the buckskin tunic she could change into while the fabric dried. But that might be more than her exhausted body could manage for tonight. Maybe in the morning.
Cherry played on a blanket while Moriah scrubbed the nappies in the water. The night was growing cool—cold with her hands in the icy water. She needed to get the baby bundled up, but the little one seemed to be enjoying the time to herself, cooing and babbling as she pulled a foot into her mouth.
Sounds of Samuel working drifted from the campsite as Moriah finished wringing out the last cloths. She’d have to find a way to hang them near the fire so they didn’t freeze before they dried.
Was there something she should do to help Samuel before she could finally stretch out her bedroll and collapse into sleep? He’d done so much to help her these past few days, he surely expected her to handle her share of the work. More than just laying out a few bits of cold food.
Her daughter’s eyes brightened when Moriah bent to bundle her in the blanket and scoop her up. Her heart lifted. No matter how weary she was, that sweet expression of love made every effort worth the cost.
Darkness was settling over the place as she stepped back into the area where the campfire blazed brightly. Samuel leaned over a bulky structure but straightened when he saw her. “I just about have this ready.” He rested a hand on the top, which reached about level with his waist.
As she stepped around to see the front of it, a lump built in her throat. He’d built her a branch shelter.
“It doesn’t look like rain tonight, but I thought this might give you and the baby privacy and keep you a little warmer.” He shifted a branch on top.
She had to work to clear the emotion clogging her words as she raised her gaze to his. “Thank you. This will help a great deal.” Being out in this open land with Cherry still so fragile had worried her more than she’d wanted to admit—even to herself. If she slept with the baby between her and the fire, what if the heat seared her little body? Or what if Moriah somehow scooted them too close to the flame? But sleeping with herself between the fire and her daughter would expose Cherry to all the cold of the night, and she had no doubt temperatures would dip below freezing before dawn came.
With this shelter, she could wrap furs around the base of the walls, creating a cocoon of warmth for the baby and keeping her far enough away from the excessive heat and dangers of the fire.
Samuel positioned more branches along the back side. “I have a couple furs you can use for bedding or to keep out the cold. I hope you have some too, ’cause mine probably won’t be enough.”
Those words finally broke through her haze of relief. “I do have blankets and furs in one of my packs. Are they...?”
He motioned toward a stack she’d not seen in the dim lighting. “I laid all our things there.”
She moved toward the shelter. The front of it would make the perfect drying rack for the wet cloths. First, though, she had to get their bedding ready so she’d have a place to lay Cherry.
“Shall I hold her while you get things set up?” Samuel stepped around the shelter and moved near.
Cherry bounced in her arms, probably a reaction t
o his voice. Her daughter had connected with him so easily, Moriah might be jealous if it wasn’t so sweet.
She turned to gauge whether Samuel really meant his offer. Hadn’t he had enough of them and their neediness for one day?
But his gaze had found her daughter where she lay against Moriah’s shoulder. And the soft expression on his face took away her hesitation. “Thank you.”
She raised the babe and lay her in the cradle he formed with his arms. His skin was warm as her fingers brushed his palm, and part of her wanted to jerk away. He didn’t flinch though, and that gave her strength to hold her ground.
“Hey there, pumpkin.” He spoke in that deep, gentle timbre as he held her daughter close, bouncing a little.
She stepped back, taking in the picture they made. The great, strong man holding close the tiny bundle of innocence. Emotion rose up to clog her throat again. She could watch this pair for hours.
But instead, she forced herself to turn away and do the work that stretched before her.
SAMUEL USED A FORK to flip a johnnycake in the pan the next morning. The smell of it called to him, even though this food surely wouldn’t be as tasty as the pemmican Mrs. Clark had served the day before. That stuff seemed to be an entire meal cooked inside little flat cakes, including berries, meat, and who knew what else.
But warm food—even simple johnnycakes—would do them both good. He’d heard the babe awaken several times through the night, and the sounds of stirring lasted for a good half hour each time. No wonder Mrs. Clark kept those dark valleys under eyes. He would let her sleep as long as she could, then have a warm meal ready when she awoke.
He didn’t have long to wait. The sound of a tiny yawn drifted from the shelter, and he couldn’t help a glance. The blankets were wiggling, and a little fist poked out. Maybe he should try to pull Cherry away so her mother could sleep a bit longer.
But as he neared, the blankets shifted more, easing down to reveal glossy brown hair. Mrs. Clark’s pretty features were softened in the morning light.
This Daring Journey Page 5