When she’d slipped beneath the waves, she thought her life was coming to an end. She’d fallen completely off the horse.
Trapped beneath the dark water, she’d reached desperately for him, but found nothing but more water. She’d kicked hard as she could, trying to swim up and break the surface. Her skirts were so heavy, though. They dragged her down, and the current pushed her on.
She remembered it so clearly: the burning in her lungs, feeling as if she was about to explode. Not until her fingertips grazed a log was her hope restored. She’d pulled herself half out of the water using that heavy tree trunk.
If it were not for the log she’d bumped into, Kitty knew she would likely not be alive. Her skirts would have dragged her down completely. Tossing her arms over the log, she’d held on for dear life. Near her, the horse had thrashed in the water at first, then, perhaps by pure instinct, begun swimming along with the current, barely able to keep its own neck stretched above the rolling river.
They had gone on that way for some time, with the rain and spray striking like little bullets. Kitty had held tight and prayed with all her might.
When the rain began to lessen and she saw a spot where the river broadened approaching, she grabbed the horse’s reins and guided him toward the shore. Thanks to the shallow section they’d found themselves in, they made it to the bank. Truly, it had been a miracle.
Shaking from exhaustion, fear, and the cold, all Kitty had been able to do for a long time was lay on the bank.
After what seemed hours, but might have only been one, she found her last reserves of strength. Together, horse and woman picked their soaking, freezing selves up and stumbled back down the river, going in the direction Kitty knew the posse were. That had been the day before.
At first, Kitty thought it would take no time at all to find Cyrus and the others. That was before she saw the wreckage laid out before her. All along the river, nature had purged itself. The number of felled trees, logs, and piles of sticks made the journey take twice as long as it should have. Kitty had to walk part of the way, doubling back when she encountered an area the horse could not go through.
But they are looking for me as well, she promised herself. They will be heading this way. It will not take long to be reunited.
Checking the area around her carefully, Kitty pushed a branch away from her face. The sun had risen a short time ago, waking her up right away. The night had been colder than she had imagined any could be. She had done her best to create a shelter by propping snapped branches against a tree and laying against the horse for warmth. The branches had blocked some of the wind, but her dress had still been damp upon falling asleep, and she’d shivered all night long, existing in a place between sleep and semi-consciousness.
Only thoughts of finding Cyrus — and then, Helen — had kept her going.
Pausing to pick off a thorn that had snagged on her skirt, Kitty looked up. Close ahead, the river bent left. Her heartbeat raced. Perhaps, Cyrus was right around that corner…
Barely able to contain her excitement, Kitty continued forward as fast she could. As she came around the corner, though, all her hope fell, and along with it her stomach.
She was at a split in the river.
Water flowed down from the two directions, either of which Kitty could have entered from.
Kitty’s legs shook, and she cried out loud. She did not remember this part of the river. Which way was she to go now?
Blinking back tears, she patted the horse on the neck. She was exhausted from travel, the pummeling of the river, and a lack of food.
As Kitty had come to an impasse, it seemed the best course of action was to stay put. The men would come down the river at some point, from this side or the other, and then they would find her.
With the decision settled, and a bit of relief washing over her upon realizing she could take a rest, Kitty settled down on a nearby rock. The horse bowed his head, his melancholy mood matching Kitty’s. She patted his neck, warily inspecting the cut on his side. Though it was shallow, she worried about it becoming infected.
“Soon,” she promised him, speaking mostly in order to comfort herself. “They will find us soon.”
A branch cracked, and the hair on the back of Kitty’s neck went up. Yet, she did not know why. She heard sounds all the time in the trees around her, squirrels and other small animals rooting around there. But something was different about this…
And then Kitty realized it. The birds behind her, which only a moment ago had been chirping wildly, had abruptly stopped.
Kitty’s stomach twisted. Someone was in the woods.
And there she was, by the river, a sitting duck.
Her hands shaking, she slowly rose and looked all around her. Since becoming separated from the posse, she had not found any signs of the bandits—something that both soothed her and worried her.
But now, it seemed those she hunted were closer than she’d predicted. A strange sensation crept up Kitty’s back, the kind that only came when one knew they were being watched.
Kitty’s mind raced. What did she do? Jump on the horse and ride? There was still too much debris. They would not get far. Throw herself into the river and swim for safety?
Before she could decide, a man stepped out of the woods not more than a stone’s throw away from her. The small bit of strength Kitty had left vanished from her body, and she clung even tighter to the horse’s reins.
Kitty held her breath, waiting for the man to make his first move. Depending on what he did, she would decide the best avenue for her escape. A long moment passed. Then another. Still, the man just looked at her.
“Hello,” he finally said. He stayed where he was, waiting for her response.
Kitty gulped, not sure how to respond. For the first time, she began to notice his features and not just the fear his presence had created. He had tan skin and wore a wide-brimmed hat from which strands of raven-black hair peeked out. His clothing was similar to most of the working men she’d seen out west, and he wore a pistol on one hip and a knife on the other.
Kitty gulped as she moved her eyes from the weapons to the man’s face. What did he intend to do with her? Was he one of the robbers? Who else would be so deep in the mountains?
“Hello,” Kitty slowly answered, deciding to pretend that nothing was the matter. Perhaps, if he believed she did not fear him, there would be a better chance of her escaping.
“Your horse is hurt.” His eyes slid to the horse’s flank, then back to Kitty. “Are you?”
“I...” Kitty hesitated.
“Do not worry. I won’t hurt you.”
Kitty knew she needed to continue to be on her guard, but the words had a calming effect on her. “Who are you?”
“My name is John Thunder. I live a half mile from here.”
“John Thunder,” Kitty slowly repeated. Was this a trick? Was he one of the bandits merely trying to lure her into a false sense of security?
Then again, why would he have a need to trick her? The man possessed a gun and knife, while Kitty herself stood completely unarmed.
“How did you come to be here?” Mr. Thunder asked.
Kitty licked her painfully cracked lips. “There was a storm, and I fell in the river.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “From where?”
“I don’t know.” Kitty shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to spill over. “I became separated from my group… my fiancée…”
“You need caring after. Come to my cabin.”
Kitty hesitated. Could she truly trust this man? And what if Cyrus were to come by and she was not there?
Yet, it was not as if she had very many other choices. She was exhausted, shaking not just from fear, but from fatigue and hunger as well. It would be dark soon and she needed someplace dry.
“Leave a sign for them,” the man suggested.
Kitty swallowed. “All right.”
Thanks to Helen, she knew just what she could do. Bending
down, she took the hem of her skirt and ripped a long piece of it off. Dirt streaked a good part of it, but the bright plaid pattern would still be seen.
Watching Mr. Thunder from the corner of her eye, Kitty tied the cloth to a nearby branch. There. If Cyrus were to come this way, he would see the cloth and—God willing—know that she was alive.
“They should be here soon,” Kitty commented, casually warning Mr. Thunder. If this were a trap and he had vile intentions in mind, she wanted him to know that her rescue party would make him pay.
Mr. Thunder only nodded and turned. Kitty followed behind at a distance, keeping as much space between the two of them as she could without losing him. Her fingers tightened around the horse’s reins, and she glanced back at the animal a few times. She worried for the cut on his side and hoped Mr. Thunder would know how to treat it.
They traveled through the woods and down a hill to a stream, which they then followed up between another two hills. Kitty’s limbs ached. Her boots were laced tight enough that they had not fallen off in the river, but their soles had begun to wear down, and it seemed as if her feet might fall off., Yet she kept going, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Halfway up the hill, which Kitty realized was really a mountain, a small log cabin waited for them. Smoke rose from the chimney and piles of firewood surrounded two walls. Nearby, the stream gurgled cheerfully. The sight was almost idyllic, and for a brief moment, Kitty nearly forgot all about the horrendous circumstances of her current situation.
“This is my home.” John Thunder stopped at the front door. “Tie your horse up to the sapling there, and I will get him some balm.”
Kitty did as she was told, looking around to see if there was a stable or horse of Mr. Thunder’s own. It seemed he lived completely alone.
He returned from inside the house, and Kitty stepped back as he smeared a thick, sweet-smelling, green paste on the horse’s cut. The horse snorted and jumped away from the touch, but Mr. Thunder had been quick. The wound was thoroughly covered.
“What is that?” Kitty asked curiously.
“An herbal paste. It will fight any infection in the injury.” He turned his dark eyes on her. “Now let’s see to you.”
Kitty numbly nodded. Her head was spinning, likely from the exertion of climbing the mountainside and not having had any food or rest since the ordeal. She wanted to believe this man was no bandit, but merely a hermit who possessed no ill-intentions of any sort, but she still could not be sure. She had taken a risk coming to his cabin, weighing the possibilities of food and shelter against any dangers.
Mr. Thunder pushed the door open the rest of the way, and Kitty hesitated at the doorway, looking into a room lit by two windows. Dying embers were in the hearth, and the air in the cabin was considerably warm. On top of that, a savory smell of herbs wafted her way.
“Sit down.” Mr. Thunder gestured at a stool near the fireplace. “You look very tried. I will start the fire.”
Kitty’s knees nearly buckled at the mention of how exhausted she was. With the promise of warmth and rest, she pushed any thoughts of danger to the side. If this man did attempt to harm her, she would rush the door and jump on her horse… hopefully.
“You came at the right time,” Mr. Thunder said, ladling something into a bowl. “The rabbit stew finished just before I went down to the river.”
Kitty could only nod. The food smelled that delicious. She took a seat on the stool, her muscles sighing in relief.
He handed Kitty the bowl, and she wrapped her hands around it. The warmth seeped into her heart. “Thank you so much,” she gasped. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had not found me.”
Mr. Thunder nodded in understanding. “We can go back down to the river soon as you’re rested and see if your party is there.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Kitty could not say anything more, exhaustion overwhelming her. She barely had enough energy to lift the spoon but she knew she needed fuel. With each bite, it became easier to take the next one. The fatty meat was heaven on her tongue, and the herbs mixed in with the broth made her senses dance.
Mr. Thunder sat silently as she ate the stew, the fire crackling and warming the damp spots of her dress. By the time Kitty finished the meal, she felt like a new woman indeed.
“I must say, you are an angel.”
He smiled. “I’ve found many things down at the riverside, but never another person.”
“And yet here we are,” Kitty murmured. “Mr. Thunder… That is an interesting name.”
“I’m half-Arapaho.”
He said it like it was the most expected thing in the world.
“A—Arapaho?” Kitty sputtered.
“Yes.”
She gave him another quick look. Of course. With hair and skin that dark, the man before her could not be fully white.
Kitty had never met an Indian before. She had heard stories. Some were kind. Some were not. While some people back east were terrified of the very concept of “savages,” as many called them, Kitty knew the truth could not be that simple. The Indians were a varied people, just like any other group. Over decades, many of them had had their land taken away and their families murdered.
“What are you doing here all by yourself?” Kitty found herself asking.
Mr. Thunder slowly shrugged one shoulder. “I have been here for years.”
Kitty nodded, knowing there was more to the story, but sensing the tale was one of a personal nature.
“Mr… Thunder…” She hesitated. “I apologize. Is that the way to address you? I am sorry. I have never met someone who is half Arapaho before.”
“We are friends now. Please, call me John.”
Kitty smiled gratefully but then realized with a start that she had not introduced herself. “My name is Katherine Byrum, although please call me Kitty.”
John smiled in amusement. “Kitty! Like the crafty and elegant animal. Now that is a good name.”
“Thank you. I enjoy it myself.” Her smile died. The time to turn to serious things had come. “Mr… Excuse me, John. I must tell you the reason why I am in these mountains. You see, my sister was kidnapped by a band of robbers. They stole her from a train we were on and disappeared into these giant hills.”
Talking about the event made Kitty feel as if she was reliving it. She blinked back the tears, though. She had come so far, survived what very few people would, especially a woman. If she did not remain strong now, all of what had happened would be in vain.
John’s face darkened. “How old is your sister?”
“Seventeen.” Kitty eagerly leaned forward, her fingers pressing hard into the bowl.
John nodded, the scowl still on his features. “Yes. I saw them.”
Kitty’s stomach nearly leaped out of her throat. “You saw them! When? Where? Do you know where they went?” Her throat cracked over the last question.
John ladled some water into a tin cup and handed it to Kitty. “Drink. You are beside yourself. Understandably, yes. I will tell you everything I can.”
Kitty obeyed, only because she needed to stay in his favor.
“I saw them two days before,” John explained.
A lump formed in Kitty’s throat. Two days. How far could a band of experienced thieves travel in two days? Especially if they knew the area?
“And Helen? How did she look?”
“She rode between two of the men. I was not close enough to see any more than that. I am sorry.”
Between two of the men… Had they realized she was dropping dress scrapes, and so decided to keep a closer eye on her?
Two days was a lot of time, but at least Kitty knew Helen was still alive. Or at least had been two days ago, but she wouldn’t let her heart go down that dark path. There was still a chance they would be reunited. Cyrus would come for them both. They would all return home as a family.
With that knowledge, Kitty’s faith in God’s sure and loving hand, though it had previously wavered, was rest
ored.
Chapter Eighteen
18. Cyrus
Chapter eighteen
Ten minutes after he’d been knocked out, Nelson groaned as he came to.
“Best stop,” Dan said. “Unless we want him to fall out of his saddle.”
“Let him,” Brady retorted.
They stopped, though, sitting on the horses as Nelson rubbed his face and came back to consciousness. “What happened?” he asked.
Jim laughed. “Domino put you out cold.”
Nelson scowled and slid to the ground. The angry red mark on his jaw was already starting to turn purple and blue. “What did you do that for?”
Her Rocky Trail (Seeing Ranch series) (A Western Historical Romance Book) Page 13