Where The Wind Blows

by Caroline Fyffe

  Gabe took Jessie by the shoulders. “Stop. I’ll find him. I promise. If you go, you’ll just end up freezing to death, and then Sarah will be an orphan again. Do you want her to go back to the orphanage?”

  Jessie strengthened her resolve. Gabe was right. He was stronger. He knew how to track.

  How long had Chase been gone? Four hours? How long before a man froze to death in this weather? A million and one questions exploded in her mind.

  “I’ll need some food. No telling how long this’ll take.” Reaching into his pack, Gabe pulled out a Colt .45. He spun the chamber, then started loading it.

  “You know how to use that?”

  “I’m a deadeye. I hunted for the wagon train all the time.”

  “Have you ever shot a man?”

  “No. But if it comes down to that…”

  Jessie stepped close. “I hope it won’t, Gabe. Please be careful. Come back, and bring Chase. God go with you.”

  Jessie picked up Sarah and held her so she could give Gabe a kiss good-bye. Silently Jessie prayed that she was doing the right thing in sending Gabe to find Chase. Or was she condemning the boy to his own death?

  Chase lay facedown on the frozen ground. The arm trapped beneath his body throbbed, but he couldn’t muster the strength to roll over. Pain unlike any he’d ever experienced pressed his skull with unbelievable force. The damp, debrisstrewn forest floor was hard as stone, and every inch of his body ached.

  What happened? He remembered taking aim on the deer he’d been tracking. The next thing he knew, he was kissing the cold, hard ground in this uncomfortable position.

  Blood.

  He could smell it, but didn’t know where it was coming from. His mind strained to put the pieces together. His thoughts were like little silver fish, darting around. Try as he might, he was unable to grasp a single one.

  Focusing on a leaf lying close to his nose, Chase struggled to stay awake. His last thought before losing consciousness was of a pretty young girl with shining hair the color of the sun. The scent of vanilla made his lips tip up. Had he actually held her hand, her warmth mingling with his own? Or had it all been a dream? As he faded into darkness, he held fast to the memory as long as he could.

  Mr. Strong’s trail was easy to find. Gabe kept his body low to the ground and moved quickly. Back in Virginia, his father had taught him early on how to survive in the woods. His father had taken pride in his only son.

  “Pa, I sure miss you, and boy, could I use your help right about now. This isn’t a game today. A man’s life is at stake.”

  Gabe scanned the clearing and found the deer tracks Mr. Strong had been following. Moving too quickly when track- ing could be a deadly mistake. Pausing, he studied his back trail for any signs of movement.

  The woodland was eerie. Quiet. Nothing but him and the crunch of the frozen ground. He didn’t want to think about what he would do if he came face-to-face with the Indians Jessie had seen. Stories of what they did to their white captives had abounded on the wagon train. They were too gruesome to think about now.

  Behind, something rolled down the ravine. Gabe whirled, heart pounding, and drew his gun at the…pinecone. It wobbled a couple times, then stilled. It took a few moments for Gabe’s heart to stop breaking through his chest. Smiling his relief, he went on.

  Rounding the bend, he spotted Mr. Strong sprawled out facedown on the ground. Not one hundred feet away lay a deer, dead, a clean shot through the heart.

  His heart beating like a tom-tom, Gabe forced himself to advance slowly. Rolling Mr. Strong over took some effort. A crease on his forehead oozed blood, which trickled over his face and down his neck. Gabe put his ear to Mr. Strong’s mouth to listen for any sign of life.

  It was difficult for Gabe to hear anything over the pounding of the blood rushing through his veins. After a moment, Mr. Strong’s breath came soft as a whisper, and relief washed over the boy. Taking his blanket out of his pack, Gabe quickly covered him, tucking it in tight.

  “I don’t want to leave the deer you risked your life for, so I’m going to take three minutes to string it up and gut it, right quick. Meat’s too hard to come by to be wasted.”

  While he worked, Gabe pondered how he’d get Mr. Strong back to the cabin. When he was done with the deer, he swiftly hacked down two young birch trees. He took the blanket off Chase and tied it to the poles with leather thongs, creating a travois.

  “This should hold to get you back.” Gabe struggled to scoot Mr. Strong onto the contraption.

  “What took you so long?”

  Gabe jumped at the sound of the raspy voice.

  “Easy,” Mr. Strong soothed. “It’s just you and me, and right now I’m feeling about next to nothin’. Where’s my horse?”

  “Indians have him. Jessie saw them by the creek. There were three of them, and four horses. She said it was Cody and sent me out after you.”

  Chase moaned when Gabe picked up the ends of the travois. “Hang on, Mr. Strong. Pulling you over these hills will be like trying to pick fly dung outta the pepper pot.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jessie paced before the hearth, her hands twisting restlessly, her eyebrows drawn downward in a frown. The fire’s soothing glow did nothing to thaw the ice coursing through her veins. What if Chase was dead, and now Gabe as well?

  As the hours passed and Gabe failed to return, Sarah grew fitful. She cried disconsolately until Jessie had no choice but to put her in her bed, patting her back until the little girl fell asleep.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, for having gotten you into this mess,” Jessie said softly. “I only wanted to spare you the nightmares I lived through growing up in the orphanage. I wanted you to have a real home, with a mama and a papa. Perhaps brothers and sisters someday. Now Nathan’s dead, and maybe Chase, and Gabe as well. It’s my fault for not telling the truth right from the beginning. This is all a result of one small lie.”

  Limp from worry, she felt like crying, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared into the fire imagining all the things that could be happening out there in the dark.

  Sounds from outside caught Jessie’s attention. She tiptoed over and put her ear next to the door.

  “We made it, Mr. Strong. We’re here.”

  Gabe! Jessie threw the bar up and swung the door open wide.

  “You’re home!” she sobbed, rushing to help Gabe pull the travois inside onto the rug.

  Jessie fell to her knees beside Chase’s limp body. His face was ashen and blood was everywhere. She cradled his frozen cheek in the palm of her hand. “How is he?” was all she could squeak past the egg-sized lump in her throat.

  “He’s been shot. The bullet grazed his head. He spoke a few words to me at first, but that was hours ago. He’s lost a lot more blood since then. I’ll admit, I’m worried.”

  Jessie looked at the gash, which still oozed blood. “Help me get him into bed.” The two struggled to get the travois through the room and into the bedroom.

  “We can get him up on the bed, if we both lift,” Jessie said.

  “Careful, he’s awful heavy,” Gabe answered. “I’ll take his shoulders, you take his legs. On the count of three.”

  Sarah stood drowsily in the bedroom doorway. Her tousled hair stuck out from her head, and her little brow was furrowed with worry. “Pee-pee.”

  “One, two, three…”

  Jessie heaved for all she was worth. Chase landed on the edge of the bed, a weak moan escaping his lips. Sliding him over, Jessie set to work on his boots, which were just as stubborn now as they’d been the night before.

  “Here, let me.” Gabe’s voice was tinged with exhaustion.

  Sarah began to whine.

  “What’s the matter?” Jessie asked, going to her and picking her up. “He’ll be all right. He just has a little cut on the side of his head.” Jessie prayed it was the truth.

  “Pee-pee.”

  “Oh. You’re a very good girl.” She kissed Sarah, then smiled into her worried face. “Come o
n, let’s find the chamber pot.”

  When Jessie returned she handed Sarah off to Gabe. Chase’s undershirt was folded back on each side, forming an open V more than midway down his body. His well-muscled chest was lightly sprinkled with dark, wavy hair. His abdomen, almost visible through the thinness of the fabric, rippled as he breathed and reminded her of a bull, lean and powerful. Here was the kind of man the girls used to whisper about at the orphanage. The stories brought heat to Jessie’s face even now. She pulled her gaze from Chase’s body and contemplated his handsome, sleeping face. He was such a good man. Her heart tightened up at the thought of the pain he must be in, and she hurried to get the things she needed to tend his wound. She set the kettle to boil and ripped several clean dishcloths into rags.

  Jessie washed the blood from Chase’s face and neck quickly, and wrapped him in a warm blanket. He slept, his head bandaged with the white strips of cloth. The hours passed, but Chase didn’t regain consciousness.

  Jessie was slicing bread when Gabe came in from the barn, his face grave.

  “What is it?”

  “Mr. Strong’s horse is back, but he’s cut up some.”

  “Will he be all right?”

  “Yes. I think it was the Indians who returned him, because the wounds are cleaned and dressed with poultices. I don’t think we have to worry about them anymore. If they hadn’t come to warn us, Mr. Strong may have died out there.”

  Chase moaned, drawing their attention. Jessie hurried to his bedside, placing her hand on his forehead. He was much hotter than he’d been an hour ago, fairly sizzling at her touch.

  Jessie pulled the blanket off and gently pulled his undershirt over his head. She bathed his face and chest with water from her porcelain pitcher. Again and again, she ran the cool cotton cloth across his hot forehead and down his chest and arms. Though she worked quickly, he seemed to get more agitated by the minute. He thrashed about, mumbling incoherently.

  Sarah, distressed by his actions, began to whimper.

  “It’s all right, honey, don’t worry.” Gabe lifted the child, hugging her close. She curled up against his chest and popped her fingers into her mouth. “I’ll get her some of the bread you were slicing. Are you hungry, Jessie?”

  “No. My stomach feels like it’s full of horseshoes. But you two go ahead and eat something.”

  “In the morning, I think I should take Cody and fetch the buck I told you about,” Gabe called from the other room.

  Jessie paused, her hand lingering on Chase’s shoulder. The heat of his feverish body radiated up through her fingertips.

  “We don’t know who tried to kill Chase, or whether the perpetrator is still around. You don’t think it was the Indians?”

  “I don’t think so.” Gabe was back in the doorway, Sarah still in his arms. “Why would they come and warn us? Or for that matter, why return Cody? If I take the horse, I can be there and back in two hours. Shouldn’t be too dangerous then.”

  When she didn’t answer right away, Gabe continued. “It’s settled. I’ll leave at dawn and be back in time for breakfast.”

  When Sarah and Gabe were asleep for the night, Jessie returned to sit with Chase. Her cheek on his forehead told her his fever was far worse. He thrashed about so much Jessie worried he might actually fall from the bed.

  “Molly.”

  “Shhh,” Jessie whispered, stroking his head with the cool rag.

  “Molly,” he sighed again.

  His voice held such anguish. Whatever he was reliving was terribly painful.

  Chase loved a girl named Molly. That was clear by the tone of his voice. Jessie reminded herself sternly she had no reason to feel anything for Chase, except gratitude for his help. Besides, he was doing right by Nathan. But it was hard not to be drawn to him. If she had a lick of sense, she’d best remember that he was leaving. As soon as he was well, God willing, he’d be getting on with his life.

  Jessie dipped the cloth in cool water and continued to bathe his face and shoulders. She wet each arm and stopped at his fingertips. Gradually, Chase began to relax. His breathing evened out, and he seemed to be resting more easily. She took the opportunity to check his head wound. It had stopped bleeding, but the skin around the wound was red and puffy.

  As the eldest of the girls in the orphanage, she’d been the one to do all the doctoring. She’d frequently had to look after the needs of the other children, especially since there were no funds for a physician.

  Though she was used to patching people up, she was thankful the bullet had only grazed the skin. She didn’t want to think about what it might have been like if she’d had to dig it out.

  The night passed slowly. Chase didn’t regain consciousness. He thrashed about, and once in his delirium he had taken her hand and held it to his lips.

  “Sorry…Molly…” His voice cracked, and Jessie feared he might even cry.

  “Shhh. Everything’s all right now. Just rest. I don’t know what has you so sad, but you must remember that inside every dark cloud is a silver lining. Sometimes it’s hard to find, but it’s there. You just have to look very closely.”

  His eyelids fluttered, and then Chase opened his eyes briefly, tried to focus, and then closed them again. He’d finally calmed in the early-morning hours. Exhausted, Jessie sat sleeping by his side.

  Gabe tapped her shoulder. “How is he?”

  “Better, I think. Cooler. But he’s still asleep and…” Jessie’s voice broke and she looked away.

  “He’ll wake up any minute. He’s just weak is all.”

  Jessie tried to smile. “Thank you, Gabe.”

  “Sarah’s still asleep. I’m off to get the deer.”

  Jessie nodded. “Be careful.”

  “Wake up, Chase. Please…open your eyes.”

  There it was again. The voice of the angel. Chase had heard it on and off during the night. He’d tried to drag himself out of the black hole he found himself in, to follow it, but it was proving very difficult.

  “You were so kind to come back and help me with Sarah. I can never repay you for that. You are sweet and caring. You did for us what only a father or husband would do. No—more than that, a hero. No, even more, a saint! And now, because of your generosity, you’re hurt.”

  The angel’s voice was sad. It tore at his insides. Maybe he was dying and she was here to take him to his just reward. Heaven or hell—it didn’t matter as long as she’d be there with him. He struggled to open his eyes. He wanted to see her.

  She sat close, only a boot length away. Her head was bent, with her forehead cradled in one of her hands. With the back of the other she brushed away silent tears.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t fret over a saddle bum like me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re awake!”

  Trying to focus, Chase stared at her trembling mouth. The angel turned out to be the slip of a girl he remembered from his dreams. She seemed to be happy he was awake. He managed a wobbly smile.

  “Water.”

  “Yes. I have some right here.”

  She cradled his head gently and held a cup of cool water to his parched lips. She was gazing at him like a calf at feeding time. Fully conscious now, Chase realized he was bare chested, with only his long johns between him and the world. Worst of all, his head was trussed up like a churchgoing woman in her best Sunday hat.

  “What…happened?”

  “We don’t know. You went out hunting and got shot. That was yesterday.”

  “And Cody?”

  “Either he came back on his own or some Indians brought him. We aren’t sure. Gabe took him this morning to get the deer you killed before you were ambushed. He’ll be back anytime now.”

  Chase relaxed. “Good. You’re going to need that meat.”

  The boy was already proving his worth. Bone tired, Chase sank farther into his pillow. It was as if he hadn’t slept in a month—no, a year. Maybe he’d close his eyes for just a moment…

  With Chase consci
ous again, Jessie felt certain he’d taken a turn for the better, and she was able to look to the future with a lighter heart. When he fell into a restful sleep, she took the opportunity to check on Sarah and tidy up the cabin.

  The little girl was still sleeping in her bed, holding tight to her dolly. Her hair glistened in the morning light cascading through the windowpane.

  Jessie carried a chair over to the china hutch. Climbing on top, she pushed an old kerosene lamp carefully to the side and felt around the top of the cabinet until her fingers touched a rectangular tin can. She brought down the tobacco container, placed it on the table, and opened the lid.

  A small daguerreotype of Nathan was there from when he’d served in the cavalry. Jessie picked it up and looked at his kind face. Sheepishly, she thought that with everything happening so fast the last two days, she’d not even mourned him for a moment. She didn’t even know where he was buried.

  “I’m sorry.” She ran her finger across his image.

  Placing it aside she looked at Nathan’s father’s silver pocket watch. On the day they’d been married Nathan had given it to her and told her it was worth a good sum. He instructed her to put it away in hiding in case of emergencies. Now, she took out the money on the bottom of the tin and counted it carefully. Fourteen dollars and forty-six cents. Not much for the months to come, but enough—if she was prudent.

  If possible, she’d buy some dried apples and make some pies to sell at Hollyhock’s Mercantile. Mrs. Hollyhock had said she’d sell any baked goods Jessie brought in. Folks in town thought it a real treat to buy something already baked and ready to eat. She’d check and see if the store had any dried apples in stock the next time she went to town for supplies.

  Chase glowered at Jessie when she entered the room and picked up the tray. “I’ve eaten so much, I feel like a poisoned pup. What is that concoction, anyway?”

  She smiled. “Possum broth.”

  His stomach clenched. Rolling to his side, Chase felt his face turning three shades of green as his stomach tried to push it out. Jessie ran to the kitchen and came back with a pot. Holding it next to the bed, she stroked his forehead soothingly.