Her head lifted so she could look at him, but she kept the fur pulled up so only her eyes peeked out.
“Here’s some warm water to drink.”
She slipped her hand out the opening in the blanket to take the cup.
He crouched beside her, helping her grip the handle. Her hand was shaking so violently, water would have sloshed out if he’d filled it all the way. “Why don’t you go back to the hot spring to get warm? I’ll keep an eye on Cherry.”
Her gaze lifted to his as she sipped the water. Even her jaw quivered from the cold.
He reached forward and rested the back of his fingers on her forehead. The soft skin was so hot, he nearly jerked his hand back. His chest tightened. “You’re very feverish. The spring made you feel better before.”
Those beautiful eyes had lost their strength as they stared back at him. Was she too weak to get up and walk to the pool?
“I can carry you if that’s easier.”
That seemed to push her into action. She placed the cup aside and worked herself upright. “I can do it.”
She struggled to stand, and he helped her up with a hand at her elbow. But she pulled away as soon as she found her balance. After grabbing the shirt she’d hung up to dry earlier, she turned and marched toward the trail to the spring. “Call me if Cherry wakes.”
Her brush-off shouldn’t have bothered him. It was good she was able to stand and walk to the water on her own. Her strength must be returning.
He reached for his rifle, which was overdue for a good cleaning. Matisse had gone hunting, but with dusk settling so deeply, he should be back soon. At least, this would give Samuel something to do while he waited to see if he was needed.
Needed. He was a sorry excuse for a man sometimes. He’d always been a sucker for anyone who needed him, sometimes even putting his own life on hold to help. Like when Seth had become embroiled in the gambling den they’d managed back in Sacramento. Samuel hadn’t liked the place from the get-go, but his brother had been so excited about the prospect of managing their own business, Samuel had agreed.
Then the establishment and the vices it encouraged had sunk their claws in Seth’s throat, and Samuel had felt more helpless than any other moment in his life. He’d left the business—he couldn’t stand another day in that den of iniquity, and he thought maybe Seth would join him on the ranch where he found a job. But Seth was bound too tightly to the vices that held him. Only God’s grace had finally freed his brother from the addictions, and Samuel had been more than happy to hightail it out of Sacramento and head north for a fresh start. Unfortunately, he’d had to leave his steady job as a ranch hand behind.
He finished wiping down the rifle’s works and reached for a bullet to reload it.
Leaving his job had been worth it to help Seth break loose from his demons. Seth had needed—
A scream ripped through the air, breaking his thought.
Strength surged through him as he snapped his rifle closed and bolted to his feet. That had to be Moriah. Had she seen a bear? A man? Had Matisse sneaked close while she was indecent?
The thought spurred him forward, rifle in hand, anger sluicing through him. He’d finally decided to trust the boy. If he’d missed a devious streak in the lad and Moriah was harmed, he’d never forgive himself.
Another scream, this time sounding almost like two different voices. Both high pitched and female—cries of pain. But how could there be two?
He charged down the path, breath coming in spurts as he raised the rifle to cock it. Thankfully, he’d had one bullet loaded when he heard the cry. Lord, let that be enough.
As he rounded the last rock that concealed Moriah from his view, the ruckus grew louder. Splashing and squeals and yelps. She must be fighting something off. “Help!”
He slowed enough to let his eyes take in the sight before him, which had suddenly stilled. Something big and long lay on the bank where Moriah had sat earlier that day. An animal? In the dim light of dusk, his mind had trouble placing the shape.
Then its massive head turned toward him, and an icy chill plunged down his back.
A mountain lion.
Where was Moriah? Her screams had ceased. He edged forward in a half circle so he could get a better angle at the cat’s side, raising his rifle into position to shoot. But he had to know where Moriah was before he’d pull the trigger. Had she ducked underwater? Probably. That would be the smartest way to get away from a cougar. In this dusky light, he couldn’t see beneath the surface to know for sure.
But what if she’d already been injured badly? What if she was, even now, drowning, unable to pull herself up to draw a life-sustaining breath.
“Moriah,” he yelled. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to answer or not. She might call the cat’s attention back on herself.
The mountain lion turned at his call, almost facing him, but still giving him a clear view of its heart. He should be able to make the shot, even in the almost-dark.
Samuel sighted down the barrel. One bullet, Lord. Make it count.
The lion crouched, preparing to spring. He pulled the trigger.
A flash of light exploded from the gun, and the cloud of powder blurred his vision of the cat.
A hiss and a howl sounded as the echo from the rifle faded. The animal wasn’t dead. Samuel stepped to the side to get a better view.
The cat had moved closer to him. Still in a crouch, but now less than three strides away from him. Had he even hit the beast? That might be a bloody spot above its shoulder, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
And now he had nothing to fight it off with except a rifle, which he could use as a club. He spun the gun so he gripped the barrel in both hands.
The mountain lion sprang at him.
Samuel struck with the butt of the weapon, catching the animal in the chest to slow the charge. At the same time, he stepped to the side.
One front claw swiped his arm. The pain barely registered as he swung around to face the animal again. The cat landed heavily on the ground, heavier than Samuel would expect from such a lithe, deadly creature. Maybe his bullet had done some damage after all.
But the animal didn’t stay down. Spinning, it launched another attack.
He vaguely heard a scream as he swung the rifle again. His foot slipped on a wet rock as the animal slammed into his middle. It managed a hard paw to Samuel’s side before he was able to push it away.
Another gunshot sounded. Another flash lit the darkness to his left.
The cougar fell in a mound in front of him.
“Matisse?” Samuel didn’t dare take his eyes off the cougar, not until he was sure it wouldn’t spring to life again.
“Here.” The boy seemed to be breathing hard.
“Keep your gun pointed at that animal. I have to find Moriah.”
“I’m here.” The words came in the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard.
He searched for the source, his feet carrying him forward as his eyes tried to find her in the darkness. A ripple in the water guided his gaze. There she was, across the small pool and moving toward him.
He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bank. “You’re alive.”
Moriah’s face was paler than he liked, but maybe that was the moonlight reflecting on the water. Her hands raised from the water, and he took them in his own. Hers were warm and supple compared to his wind-chapped, calloused skin.
“Are you hurt?” Her eyes seemed even wider than usual, tracking his face.
“Not bad.” He could feel the sting across his side every time he drew breath, but he’d heal. “What of you?”
Then he saw it. She turned her face in the moonlight, revealing a dark line near her hair that stretched from her temple to her jaw.
“Moriah.” He released one of her hands to get a better look. Blood dripped freely from the mark, running down her jaw, along the length of her neck, and into the water. He shifted back to meet her gaze. “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing. I saw
her just as she pounced, so was able to move out of the way.”
Thank you, God. He gripped her hand again. “Let’s get you out so we can doctor that. Do you need a minute to dress?”
“Yes. I’ll come to the camp when I’m done.”
He hated the thought of leaving her alone again. “As soon as I retrieve my shot bag, I’ll be standing right on the other side of that brush. Call if you need anything.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be fine. Where’s the baby?”
A knot tightened in his chest. Cherry was alone. Unprotected against any other wildlife that might present a threat. But he hated to leave Moriah unprotected, too.
“I’ll stand guard.” Matisse’s voice came from behind them.
Samuel turned to see the boy still standing by the cougar’s carcass as he’d been instructed. Even though the animal was certainly dead by now. “All right then.” He extended a hand to the lad.
The boy hesitated, as if not quite sure what Samuel meant. Or maybe he didn’t think it possible.
Samuel kept his hand out. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Matisse slipped his hand into Samuel’s with a nod. “Glad I could help.”
Nodding, he released the boy’s hand, scooped up his rifle, and sprinted back to Cherry.
Chapter Fourteen
“This... How can this be?”
~ Moriah
EVEN BEFORE MORIAH opened her eyes the next morning, a powerful ache pulsed through her entire body. Her cheek burned, but at least the place on her left side where it had felt like a knife was being twisted now only throbbed a dull pain.
A sound worked its way through her awareness. A low vibrato, almost a humming.
She pried her eyelids open and struggled to focus her sleepy vision. Beyond her brush shelter, Samuel knelt over his bed pallet, working on a bundle of blankets. A tiny leg kicked up from the cloths. A little foot she would never tire of seeing.
He was talking in a low murmur to the babe, his face animated with whatever he was saying. Those dark eyebrows rose and lowered with each expression, his eyes growing wide, then narrowing in a grin as a coo drifted up from the blankets.
No wonder Cherry loved him so. This big strapping frontiersman was willing to throw off his dignity to please a tiny babe. Moriah wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen anything more attractive.
Samuel must have felt her gaze, for he looked over. A grin touched the corners of his mouth. “I was just changing her wet things and hoping she’d let you sleep longer.”
He turned back to the baby and wrapped the blankets tighter around her, then lifted her up into the crook of his arm. He had a way of carrying Cherry somewhat upright, so she could see the world ahead of them. Probably another reason her daughter liked him. She hated to be held flat so all she saw was the sky.
“Here’s your mama.” He carried the babe over to Moriah and dropped to his knees. “How’s your face this morning?”
She shifted so she could touch the cut running down her cheek. “It’ll heal.” Thankfully, the gash was near enough to her hairline that it wouldn’t be obvious at first sight. “And you?”
Her gaze wandered down to his middle where he’d uncovered a gash from the mountain lion the night before. He waved the question away now. “I don’t even feel it.”
She met his gaze. “Make sure you put the salve on it this morning. Mountain lion wounds will fester badly without those herbs.”
He nodded, giving her a pointed look. “You do the same.” His expression softened. “How about the rest of you? Feeling better?” He reached forward and brushed his fingers across her forehead. Maybe he was only feeling for fever, but his touch sent a tingle all the way down her back.
She managed a smile. “I think so. I’ll be ready to leave this morning.”
His brow furrowed. “This is a good place to camp. Why don’t we wait one more day?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t be the weakling any longer. “I’m strong enough. There’s no need to wait.”
He tipped his head, studying her. But not with the intensity his gaze sometimes held. This look was easygoing and relaxed. “Tell ya what. Why don’t we eat a good breakfast of cougar tenderloin, then see how everyone’s feeling once we’re up and around. If we want an extra day to enjoy the hot spring, we’ll just take it.”
She couldn’t help a smile at his cougar tenderloin comment. And there was no sense in arguing with him when he was giving her a chance to prove her readiness. She’d just have to make sure she didn’t show any more weakness.
Cherry took the moment to squeeze her face into a complaint, and Moriah reached for her. “She’s hungry.”
Samuel handed over the bundle, then pushed to his feet. “Matisse is checking the horses, but he left another garlic clove for you. And here’s some water to wash it down. If that stuff tastes as bad as it smells, I don’t envy you.”
He placed the cup and plate beside her, then turned back to the fire. “I’m off to get more water for breakfast. Just call out if you need anything.”
As he walked away, Moriah couldn’t help the warm, protected feeling that slipped through her.
But as Cherry nursed, Moriah’s mind churned forward to the journey ahead. They probably had only another day’s ride before they reached her people. Then Samuel would leave her.
How in the world would she let him go?
A DAY LATER, SAMUEL eased back in the saddle as things finally started to feel back to normal. Aside from his raw wrinkled fingers anyway, a side-effect from washing soiled baby cloths in the spring that morning.
Never had he expected he’d be washing a newborn’s laundry in the middle of the Canadian mountains, but Cherry was running out of clean cloths, and Moriah still looked pretty pale. She’d insisted she wouldn’t hold them back another day, but if she started to look feverish again, he’d call a halt no matter how much she argued.
As his gelding charged up a rocky section of the trail, he wrapped a protective hand around the baby strapped to his chest. At least Moriah had allowed him to carry her for this first stretch. She’d have her hands full just staying in the saddle now that the terrain was more treacherous.
By the time they stopped for a midday rest and meal, Moriah’s face had grown pale again. He settled her and the baby in as comfortable a spot as he could find, then turned to Matisse. “We should let the horses graze a little if we can find grass.”
With both of them gone, Moriah would have a private moment to care for the little one. And grazing the horses would give them an excuse for an extended rest.
A little bit later, they sat in a circle, eating the last of the pemmican and leftover beans. Even cold, the meal satisfied all the hungry places in his gut. Matisse practically swallowed his food whole, a practice Samuel kept waiting for him to ease out of now that he had regular meals. But the boy never seemed to fill. Kind of like Rachel’s son Andy had been on their journey northward.
He leaned back against a rock and watched Matisse stuff an oversized bite of pemmican in his mouth. “I think you’ve grown an inch or two since you joined up with us.”
Matisse glanced up, eyes wide and guilty, as though he’d been caught stealing an extra bite of pie from the serving tin. Then one corner of his mouth tipped up. “Mrs. Clark’s food is much better than Pierre’s ever was.” He slid a glance to Moriah as a bit of color filled his ruddy cheeks.
She offered him a weak smile. “I learned from my mother, who’s full Peigan. She’s the best cook in the camp.”
A yearning crept into Matisse’s gaze. “How many are in your camp?”
“About fifteen lodges most of the time. Maybe forty or fifty people.” Her face softened. “My mother will likely take you in as another son. If we don’t find your real family, that is. She’s always caring for strays and anyone who needs a place to stay.”
Matisse’s jaw set in a hard line, but his eyes kept that longing, almost fragile expression.
They’d done a good
thing inviting the lad to ride with them. Thank you, Lord, for helping it turn out well.
The boy pushed to his feet, maybe in an attempt to steel himself from a topic that left him vulnerable. “I saw a stream down the hill. I’ll go bring up some drinking water.”
As his steps faded into the distance, Samuel turned his focus to Moriah. “Do you recognize any of the land we’re traveling through?”
She met his gaze. “I do actually. I remember riding through here when I’d hunt with my brothers.” There was something in her eyes that drew him. Maybe the same longing that had been in Matisse’s look.
“I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing your family again.” A lump lodged in his chest. He didn’t begrudge her the reunion, but that meant he would need to walk away. To leave her and the baby. Forever? He wasn’t sure he could handle never seeing her again.
She nodded, then something shuttered her gaze. “What will you do? Go back to your family and Rachel?”
He pretended to contemplate the question, but really he was scrambling for a good way to ask if he could come back to see her. “I need to let them know about her brother’s—I mean, your husband’s—passing.” Her jaw flexed when he stumbled through the words. “I’m not sure how soon they’ll want to go on with the wedding. Rachel will likely need some time to grieve.”
Moriah nodded but didn’t speak. Was she holding in her own grief? He shouldn’t have brought it up.
Now was a bad time to ask what he’d planned to ask, but this might be his only chance to talk with her alone. Especially if they reached the camp that night. “Once things calm down again, I thought maybe I’d come back up here and see how you and the babe are settling in. Would that be all right?”
Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed as if her eyes took on a glimmer. Was that good or bad?
She nodded. “Cherry and I would both like you to come.”
Some of the tension in his chest eased. “Good.”
EXCITEMENT HAD BEEN building in Moriah’s chest for hours now. The bittersweet kind, for she still wasn’t sure how she’d handle Samuel leaving. But they were close to the camp now. Within the next few minutes, she would see her mother. And Grandfather. And all her people.
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