Where Leads the Heart

by Colleen Coble

  Rooster led the way, his keen eyes following the fresh trail. They splashed across the stream and picked their way up a steep hill. Rooster glanced around at the silent men as they paused at the top of the hill. “Reckon we all fell a little bit in love with that gal,” he said morosely.

  “Don’t say it like she’s gone!” Isaac’s knuckles were white where they gripped the reins. “We can’t be more than a few hours behind her.” He urged his horse forward and took the lead through a line of trees.

  Rand and Jacob, following close behind, reined in at the sound of a startled snort. Two bear cubs bleated and rolled toward their mother. She swung around from her perusal of a fallen tree trunk, ready to face the threat to her offspring.

  Rand’s eyes met the grizzly’s, and he read the rage there. She roared angrily as she rose to her hind feet, a good seven feet tall. Her mouth wide with another roar, she dropped to all fours and charged toward them.

  Jacob was closest, and his horse shied. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground. He stared up at the saliva dripping from the bear’s giant mouth, and then he grabbed for his gun, but it had fallen from his holster when he catapulted from the saddle. He scrabbled backward, away from the grizzly.

  “Lay still, boy!” Rooster said softly. He aimed his Win-chester at the bear’s head, just as Rand frantically aimed his own gun. The rifles barked, but not before the grizzly swiped at Jacob’s leg with her evil claws. She swung her head in dull surprise, then crashed to the ground beside Jacob.

  Blood was already pouring from Jacob’s leg, soaking his torn pants. “Quick, hand me the canteen,” Rand shouted, kneeling beside his brother.

  Rooster handed him the canteen. “Clean it good, boy, or it’ll fester for sure. No telling where that bear’s claws have been.”

  Rand ripped the fabric away from the wound and splashed it with water again and again. Jacob’s flesh was flayed so badly that the bone gleamed through the shredded skin. Rand tried to keep the dismay from his face as he bound the wound with a clean handkerchief.

  Jacob’s face was pale and sweat sheened his forehead as he gritted his teeth against the pain. “Sorry, Rand.” His face contracted in pain and frustration. “We were so close.”

  Rand patted his brother’s leg. Isaac crouched beside him and gave Jacob a sip of water. “How bad is it?” he asked Rand softly.

  “Bad.” Rand shook his head and turned away so Jacob wouldn’t hear. “It’s deep in his thigh muscle—to the bone. He’ll be in even more pain when the shock wears off. We need to find someplace for him to hole up.” He paused bleakly. “He won’t be riding for a while.”

  Isaac nodded. “I hunted this area last year. If I remember right, there’s a small cabin just beyond the woods to our north. Let’s make for there. It’s almost dark anyway.”

  Rand fought to keep the despair from his face as they made a rough travois to carry Jacob. This delay could be deadly for Sarah.

  Isaac led the way through the trees. Rand spared a thought for the motherless bear cubs, but he knew there was nothing they could do for them. He found himself smiling, thinking that if Sarah were there, she would probably have insisted they catch the cubs and bring them with them to raise. His smile faded, turning to a frown of pain, as he was washed anew with fear for Sarah.

  The light was murky by the time they stepped out of the forest and into a small meadow clearing. The cabin squatted against the sloping north side, and they hurried toward its meager haven.

  The open door creaked in the gentle breeze as they swung down off their horses. “Me and the men will take care of the horses,” Rooster said. “Git that boy inside. Better clean the wound again, too.”

  Rand and Isaac carefully lifted Jacob off the travois and carried him into the dark cabin. “Light a lantern, Isaac,” Rand said as they lay Jacob on a moldy mattress in the corner. Rand eased his brother’s boots off and began to untie the handkerchief on Jacob’s leg. Isaac lit the lantern, and the dim glow pushed the shadows back.

  The wound had reopened from the jostling on the travois, and Jacob lay senseless. One of the other men came in with a small flask in his hand. “Rooster says he brought it along for medicinal purposes.”

  Rand uncapped the flask and poured a generous amount into Jacob’s gaping wound. Jacob thrashed and cried out, then lapsed back into unconsciousness as Rand rebound the wound.

  “I reckon that’s all we can do,” he said to Isaac.

  “Except pray.”

  Rand looked at Isaac, then back at his brother. He nodded and knelt on the floor, Isaac beside him as they each asked God for His help. After a few minutes, Isaac got to his feet, but Rand stayed where he was. Help me find Sarah, Lord. And once I do, please take things into Your own hands and clean up the mess I’ve made. I’ve been so selfish, following my own way. Please guide us now and show us what to do. Take care of Jacob, and heal his leg. And take care of Sarah. You know where she is, and only You can lead us to her.

  At last he stood up, a new peace filled his heart. He felt his first real sense of hope that they might find Sarah alive and well.

  They made up their beds on the dirt floor of the cabin. Rand checked on Jacob several times throughout the night, as his brother thrashed restlessly. Finally at dawn, he touched Jacob’s forehead and found it cool. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled on his boots and woke the others.

  They were eating a cold breakfast of hardtack and dried meat, when Rooster burst into the cabin. “She was here! Our leetle gal was here!”

  “What are you talking about?” Rand jumped up and gripped Rooster’s arm.

  “Our Sarah was here. Look!” He held out a scrap of familiar green and yellow calico.

  “Where did you find it?” Rand’s voice was hoarse with excitement.

  “Down by the stream. And I found her trail—she’s alone!” Rooster almost danced in jubilation.

  Rand smoothed the scrap of fabric, almost giddy with relief. She’d gotten away from whoever had held her captive. God was working! “Let’s check Jacob,” Rand said, impatient to be on their way.

  Jacob was sitting up, sipping a thin gruel made of water and hardtack. He gave them a wan smile. “Sorry, Rand. Guess I won’t be in any shape to travel for a few days.”

  Rand nodded. “I’m just thankful you’re alive, Brother.” He grinned, anxious to wipe the look of guilt off Jacob’s face. “I have to wonder, though, if you didn’t get in that bear’s way just so you’d have a good story to tell back at Bedlam.”

  He waited until Jacob smiled weakly, and then he turned to the group of privates who were leaning against the cabin. “I want you soldiers to stay with Jacob until he can travel, then get him back to the fort. Isaac and Rooster will come with me to find Sarah.” He cocked an eyebrow at his two friends. “Okay with you?”

  “Let’s get going,” Isaac said.

  Rooster nodded. “I’ll saddle up the horses.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rand was almost jubilant as they followed Sarah’s clear trail. “That gal will never make an Injun,” Rooster muttered. “She leaves a path even a greenhorn could follow.”

  Rand grinned in agreement. Thank You, Lord, he prayed silently.

  Near noon, they rounded a bend in the river they were following, and Rooster stopped short. He whistled in dismay. Sarah’s clear tracks were obliterated by unshod pony tracks and moccasin prints. “Bad news, fellows. Looks like the Injuns caught her.”

  Rand stood staring at the telltale marks, his heart pounding. So close to finding her, and now this! He swallowed hard as he fought to hold onto his new faith and hope. “Can you tell what kind of Indians?”

  “Hard to say, but I’d guess Sioux.”

  They followed the trail for the rest of the afternoon. Rand struggled to pray, but despair kept rearing its head, coming between him and his sense of God’s presence. Dear Lord, please take care of her.

  sixteen

  The band of Sioux gave Sarah jerky and fresh water before jabbering and pu
lling her to her feet. In spite of her terror, she was grateful for the food. She’d never been so hungry in her life. The jerky was tough, but she didn’t know when anything had tasted so good.

  The young brave with the scar on his face pulled her up behind him on his pony, and the entire band began to pick its way along a faint trail through the forest. Sarah would never have recognized it as a trail, but once they had followed it for a while she was able to see the slight impression from other Indian ponies. Twilight was sending out long golden shadows by the time they turned the crest of a hill and saw campfires and teepee shapes below them in the valley beside a stream.

  Children jabbered and squaws stared at her with hostile eyes as the braves paraded through the camp, raising their bows and spears in triumphant shrieks. Sarah fought unconsciousness as she tried not to droop wearily against the young brave’s back. Her vision blurred and doubled as the brave stopped beside a teepee and slid to the ground. He pulled her down, and she fought his grip on her arms.

  “Let go of me.”

  He grinned at the tired anger in her voice, then thrust her inside the teepee and closed the flap, encasing her in darkness. She was too weary to do more than stumble wearily to a soft pile of furs and sink into instant sleep.

  When Sarah awoke, she was in a dark, cool place. Strange chanting filled her head, and she heard the rumbles of unfamiliar voices. But the words were all jumbled together, and nothing made any sense. She tried to rise and was surprised to find she could move her hands and feet. She had thought the Indians would tie her up so she couldn’t escape in the night. The sounds outside were distant and not threatening, so she snuggled back down in the furs and fell asleep again.

  The next time she awoke, she was not alone. A beautiful Indian girl knelt beside her and offered her a bowl of stew that smelled wonderful. She took it and began to eat eagerly. It was flavored with unfamiliar herbs, but the meat and vegetables were tasty, and she ate it quickly. The young squaw smiled, then quickly stepped outside and closed the flap on the teepee behind her.

  Sarah’s shoulder protested as she got to her feet. Swaying weakly, she started toward the flap in the teepee, then staggered and sank back onto the ground. She was just too tired, she realized, to push herself any longer. She sat back down on the bearskin rug to await further developments.

  While she was waiting, she looked around curiously. She’d always wondered what a teepee looked like inside, but she’d never been in one. Not even Morning Song’s.

  The teepee was large, at least ten feet in diameter. In the center was a tripod arrangement that supported a pot over what were now stone cold ashes, although a pile of buffalo chips lay heaped to the side. Spears and knives hung from the lodge poles, and buffalo robes were piled to one side. Pelts of various animals, beaver, wolverine, raccoon, and antelope, were in various stages of tanning on a rack of some kind.

  She dragged her eyes away from the furnishings of the lodge as the flap opened and the Indian brave came in. There was a fierce scowl on his young face, and Sarah’s heart pounded in trepidation. It was the youth with the terrible scar on his cheek she’d seen before. “He–hello,” she stammered. Then she smiled as she remembered the Sioux Isaac had taught her. “Wash ta cola,” she stammered hopefully.

  The brave merely grunted, his black eyes roaming over Sarah’s bright, tangled hair. He reached out and touched a bright lock.

  She forced herself not to flinch away. “Sarah.” She gestured at herself. “My name is Sarah.”

  The brave nodded in sudden comprehension, a smile of delight winking across his face so quickly Sarah thought she’d imagined it.

  The flap lifted again as the young Sioux maiden entered. She reminded Sarah of a young antelope, all long limbs yet curiously graceful. Sarah’s heart clenched as she thought of Morning Song.

  “You awake,” she said, her dark eyes liquid with a hidden smile.

  “You speak English.” Sarah smiled in relief.

  “Little. Little English. Live at mission one year.” The girl squatted and offered her another bowl of stew. “You eat.”

  She wasn’t really hungry any longer, but since she intended to escape at the first opportunity, she knew she needed to build up her strength as quickly as possible.

  The brave grunted again and said something to the girl. “Little Wolverine say you belong to blue coat with eyes like eagle. Soldier not kill Little Wolverine in battle. Why?”

  Sarah searched her memory, but she couldn’t remember Rand mentioning an incident like he described. “I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly.

  The girl translated to the young Indian and he fired a volley of words back at her. “He say blue coat with eagle eyes spare Little Wolverine. Little Wolverine save you.” She pretended to weigh her hands until they were on an equal level.

  “Yes. Even. Thank you.” Sarah looked into the dark eyes beside her and thanked God for sending such an unlikely rescuer. They weren’t going to hurt her.

  §

  Sarah’s strength grew daily on the good food White Beaver, the Indian girl, brought. White Beaver gave her a beautifully beaded Indian dress to replace her torn dress and braided her hair. She looked like a beautiful red-gold Indian.

  She and the young maiden grew to be friends—she felt an almost uncanny sense of friendship and identification with her as if she’d known her all their lives—and by the third day Sarah felt at home in the busy Sioux camp. The children were curious about her and soon lost their shyness when she appeared. White Beaver was happy to translate their innumerable questions.

  But Sarah grew more anxious daily. Where was Rand? Was he all right? Was there any truth to what Ben told her? Could he really be dead—or did he think she was dead? Was he looking for her? She was filled with trepidation as she thought of having to explain that Ben had taken her and what his intentions had been. What if Rand blamed her? What if he thought she’d encouraged Ben to follow her out here?

  “Why you so sad?” White Beaver asked as they waded in the stream fishing just after dawn on the fourth day.

  Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she clambered out of the water and sat on a large rock, White Beaver following close behind her. “I miss my friends,” she said simply. “And I worry about the bad man who tried to hurt me. He may be looking for me still.”

  White Beaver nodded slowly, her dark eyes compassionate. “Little Wolverine take you back soon. Then debt to blue coat is paid. And Little Wolverine say Sarah cry no more. He know man who hurt Sarah. He make sure he not hurt Sarah again.” She reached over and touched Sarah’s arm shyly. “White Beaver miss Sarah.”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” she said hoarsely. “Thank Little Wolverine for me. You are both good friends.” Just a few days with the Indians had shown her how alike they all were. And she felt so sad knowing their way of life would soon be no more. She knew Little Wolverine and the other braves had no idea how many settlers were clamoring to take away the Indian hunting grounds. And Rand might actually have to fight Little Wolverine some day. She couldn’t stand the thought of the bright young brave lying dead on a field of battle.

  She picked up her string of fish and followed White Beaver back to camp. Why was life never simple?

  §

  Rand and his companions followed the trail as it led on through rocky hills and sagebrush-choked gullies. When they ran low on rations, Rand and Isaac brought down an antelope and cut it into jerky, smoking it overnight over a low fire. Rand alternated between worry for Sarah and concern for Jacob back at the cabin.

  Four days from the fort, they awoke to a leaden sky with a stiff, moisture-laden breeze whipping across the stark landscape. Desperation clouded all three of their faces. If it rained, the trail would be washed away. And they were so close! They hurriedly saddled up and rode out.

  But their haste was useless. The storm struck with its usual force in the mountains. Hail rained down on them, and they were forced to take shelter under an overhanging cliff wall. Then the
thunder boomed around them as torrents of rain fell and lightning crackled overhead.

  “We’ve got to git to high ground!” Rooster shouted above the crashing thunder. “This here’s a real gully washer. There’s liable to be a flash flood any time!”

  Staying as close to the rock wall as possible, they led their horses up the rocky hill. Halfway up the side of the slope, Rand looked down and saw a mountain of water sweep away the tangle of sagebrush and aspen in the gully where they’d been only minutes before.

  “This here’s prob’ly high enough,” Rooster said, pausing under an overhang.

  They crouched there, hugging the side of the rocky wall. The horses shifted restlessly, but the men managed to hang onto the reins.

  Finally it was over. Steamy mist shimmered in the heat as the sun broke through the clouds, and they emerged from their sanctuary. Rand was appalled at the changed landscape. The flash flood had carved new gullies and filled in old low spots, as the raging water carried away everything in its path. He stood surveying the damage, as dawning dismay swept over him. The trail to Sarah would never have survived such rain.

  Rooster saw his consternation. “Don’t take on so, boy. We ain’t done by a long shot.”

  “What do you mean? How will we ever find her now?”

  “I’ve scouted these parts before. Over yonder peak is one of the Injuns’ favorite camping grounds. We’ll just mosey on over there, and maybe we’ll find your Sarah.”

  Galvanized, Rand leaped astride his horse as Rooster led the way and Isaac brought up the rear. By nightfall they were in a line of trees overlooking an Indian campground. The teepees glowed with color from the sunset. They caught glimpses of dimly illuminated figures moving around the campfires.

  “Now what?” Rand asked.