Love's Compass

by Gade, Carla; Franklin, Darlene;

  “Show off,” she muttered under her breath.

  Papa let out a chuckle at the exchange and pulled his own horse around. “He’s all right in my book. But you’d best mind your manners.”

  “My manners?” Eliana asked.

  “Don’t want to stir up any trouble, especially after we get to the rendezvous.”

  “Would you care to explain?”

  Papa pinched his eyebrows to let her know he was serious. “We have a lot of miles yet to travel. Don’t encourage him.”

  Eliana tried to ignore the accusation and let out an exasperated breath. With one foot in the stirrup, she hoisted herself up on Firefly. Papa didn’t really think she’d risk the expedition by entertaining notions of romance, did he? With a kissing noise she urged her horse forward.

  After a rough twenty-four miles from Silverton, Yiska led the Van Horns to the shelter of ponderosa pines to camp for the night. He dismounted and took in a deep breath of the pine scented air then gathered branches and leaves to prepare a lean-to while Eliana and Mr. Van Horn set up their small canvas tents. They gave the horses and mule some oats and water from the stream. Then Yiska stretched a line between two trees and tethered the animals. He made a fire, and Mr. Van Horn heated some canned hash, boiled some coffee, and offered a prayer of thanks. After they ate, Van Horn read a short passage out loud from his Bible. As they sat around the campfire in the twilight of the early June evening, they listened to the sounds of the rushing river and chirping tree frogs.

  “We made good progress today. You both did well when we had to ride up those ridges. The rest of the way will go a little easier.” Yiska stirred the fire with the end of a branch. “We should get to Baker’s Bridge by late morning.”

  “How far is that?” Eliana asked.

  “About ten or twelve miles,” he said. “Then another twelve to Animas City. We should get there by sundown tomorrow.”

  Eliana let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be so glad to get there.” She rubbed her legs. “I’m so tired and sore.”

  Mr. Van Horn tapped his empty pipe on his knee. “You’re not used to all the riding. But I’m afraid there’ll be much more of it ahead, my dear. The expedition hasn’t even commenced.” He raised an eyebrow. “Other than that, how are you holding up? I haven’t heard any sneezing.”

  Eliana stretched, issuing a low moan when her body protested. She mumbled as she lumbered toward the river’s edge. “I’m fine…. It’s the other end I’m worried about.”

  Yiska cocked his head, covering his mouth to smother a laugh.

  Van Horn chuckled as he got up, Bible in hand. “I’ll turn in now so I can be up for the second watch.”

  Eliana placed her fingertips on her lips then turned them toward her father, sending him a good-night kiss. “Sleep well, Papa. I’ll go to my tent shortly.”

  Yiska observed the closeness between the two. They meant everything to each other.

  “Be sure to wake me, Yiska,” Van Horn said.

  “You bet.” Although they weren’t in hostile Indian territory, small parties kept guard. There was always the danger of wild animals or the occasional desperate soul who ran dry while prospecting the river to beware of. Good thing Eliana could handle a weapon.

  Yiska wandered to where she stood, her silhouette like a male. But underneath the manly clothes, he knew she was every bit a woman—the woman he was falling hard for.

  Eliana took off her hat and untied the cord from her hair, her tousled locks falling around her face. Her hat dropped to the ground, and Yiska picked it up. Their eyes met as he handed it to her, but neither of them spoke.

  The firelight, reflected in her eyes and gave the illusion that he could see deep into her heart. He longed to kiss her, passionately, as he did the first time their lips met, but he dared not. He had to train himself to keep a proper emotional distance for the expedition. Maybe when it was over…

  A branch snapped. Eliana let out a tiny gasp. Their heads darted in the direction of the noise, Yiska’s hand ready at his side. He caught a glimpse of the white tails of deer fleeing into the woods.

  Eliana sighed in relief. “Perhaps I’m not cut out for this.” She turned and took a few steps away.

  Yiska walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. With his head nestled over her shoulder he spoke into her ear in a low voice. “Eliana, this is your dream. Every moment, all of it. Even when you’re tired or afraid. You’re braver than you realize, and you will do this, and do it well.”

  She sniffed and put her hand up to her face to wipe her tears. She clung to his arms, and her breathing relaxed. There they stayed as one, watching the light of the moon dance upon the river.

  When Eliana awoke the next morning before dawn, breakfast was already cooking on the fire, and Cornelius Crawford was serving it up.

  “Mornin’ Miss…I mean, young man.” His whiskered cheeks framed a toothless grin. “I came in last night after you all had retired. I’d have caught up with you sooner, but I got a little off track. Betcha didn’t know I’m going on that survey expedition to New Mexico with you.”

  Astonished, Eliana placed both hands on her hips. “I’m surprised you’re leaving your mine behind.”

  Papa and Yiska emerged from their shelters dumbfounded.

  “You didn’t say anything about that when you came into camp last night,” Yiska said.

  Cornelius handed Eliana a plate of beans, bacon, and biscuits. “Told you I was down on my luck. Lost my gold claim in a card game. But since I gave my heart to Jesus, He’s been blessin’ me and helping me get my life in order. I gave up the whiskey and even got me a job.”

  “I take it you have a job on the expedition then,” Papa said.

  “Sure do. I wuz hired as the cook. Providin’ I can get down to Animas City in time.” Cornelius chewed on a piece of bacon and smacked his lips.

  “All this in a matter of a couple of days, Crawford?” Yiska asked.

  “You betcha,” the reformed miner said.

  Papa chuckled. “Sounds like a genuine miracle. Glad to have you along.” Yiska choked on his coffee and shook his head.

  They rode along at a good pace, making their way through the gorge. Eliana breathed in the fresh morning air and relaxed as she and Firefly fell into a steady gait. Peacefulness permeated her heart as she remembered Yiska’s soothing words the night before, and the thought of his masculine arms around her.

  Yiska rode ahead to scout then circled around to meet the group. “Baker’s Bridge is up ahead.”

  “That’s the bridge Charles Baker and his team built back in the sixties, during the gold boom,” Papa said. “I’d like to photograph it if you think we can afford the time.”

  “We’ll cross and rest for a spell. Then you can get your pictures,” Yiska said.

  Eliana contemplated the narrow section of the river where logs were strewn together from one thick section of rock to another. “Is it safe?”

  “It’s as safe as it ever was.” Without hesitation Yiska rode Shadow across and waited on the other side. Papa followed, Sampson trailing behind him. Cornelius came along next on a coal-colored mule loaded with pots and pans.

  Eliana sat on Firefly and urged her to cross the bridge, but the horse seemed frightened of the water rushing underneath. Firefly’s hooves clopped up and down on the logs, and then she backed up. Eliana tried to ease her forward once again then increased pressure with her heels.

  The horse reared and threw Eliana to the ground with a thud. The force pushed the wind from her lungs and left her gasping for breath.

  Chapter 15

  Eliana coughed and struggled to resume breathing while Yiska and Papa raced across the bridge. They crouched beside her side as she lay on the hard ground.

  Beads of perspiration dotted Papa’s brow over eyes filled with alarm. “Sunshine, are you all right?”

  Eliana clamped her teeth together and grimaced in pain as she attempted to get up.

  “Stay still for a minute,” Pap
a said. “You’re awfully pale.”

  “I’m fine, Papa. Please help me sit.” The croak in her voice did little to convince even her.

  “How can you be fine? That crazy animal just threw you.”

  When he hesitated, she grabbed his arm and yanked herself to a sitting position. Pain exploded through her body like dynamite in a cave. She took a shaky breath, opened and closed her hands, and made circles with her wrists. Her body seemed to be in working order. Nothing broken. Deep, pebble-filled scratches crisscrossed her palms. Why hadn’t she left her gloves on?

  Papa carefully brushed the grit from her hands. He then examined her head, feeling for bumps. “Is that tender? There’s a small knot back there.”

  “It is rather sore, but not too bad,” she said.

  He patted her legs through her trousers, from her thighs all the way down to her boots. “Can you feel your legs?”

  “Yes, Papa. Really, I’m fine.” She hadn’t seen him this worried about her since she fell out of the old oak tree when she was eleven years old. She’d climbed up to check the view of the pastures and fluffy clouds. If she could have figured out how to carry a camera up with her, she might have been able to take a picture of the nest of baby birds she discovered there.

  As her thoughts floated about, she hadn’t realized she was leaning back with her head against Yiska until she felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. “Should we move her?”

  “Yes. Let’s take her over there and make her comfortable,” Papa said. Oh, but Papa, I am comfortable here with Yiska.

  A slight groan escaped her when Papa scooped her up. Eliana felt limp as he cradled her in his arms then set her on a grassy hill and propped her against a fallen tree.

  Papa bunched his coat behind her for comfort. She looked around to get her bearings.

  Cornelius approached and handed Eliana a canteen of water. “Have some of this.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Yer welcome. Glad to see yer in one piece.” The spry old man went back over the bridge, where he’d left the horses and pack animals tethered to an old fence post.

  A shock of alarm ran through Eliana. “Firefly! Where…?”

  Papa placed his hand on her arm. “Yiska went after her.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. He’ll find her.”

  Minutes later Yiska appeared riding her mount, in full control. My, he looks good on a horse. Eliana chastised herself for taking such liberties with her thoughts—that fall must’ve made her giddy.

  She widened her eyes as she addressed Yiska. “You’re brave.”

  “She needs to know she can still be ridden.” He leaned down and gently rubbed the mare’s neck.

  “I know. I’ll ride her, if you can please get her across the bridge for me.”

  “That’s what I intend to do. But can you ride? Are you hurt?”

  His concern moved her. “I’m just sore. I’ve come this far, and nothing will stop me from going on that expedition.” She remembered Yiska’s encouraging words from last night and willed her gaze to show her determination.

  Papa handed Eliana her hat, interrupting her thoughts. “Eli Van Horn has spoken.”

  But the warmth in Yiska’s eyes reflected hers, answering her unspoken message. “If you can make it another mile we’ll noon somewhere special.”

  Eliana rode Shadow for the next mile, while Yiska remained on Firefly. They came into an area with mists rising up from the ground. A huge mound of mineral-laden lava rock came into view. Steaming hot water flowed from the colorful lump into streams all around it.

  Her eyes flashed at Yiska in delight. “Hot springs. The streams flow into heated pools of water. The Utes and Navajo have often fought over healing waters like this. I thought a soak might ease your pain—there’s enough brush to give you privacy.” His thoughtfulness sent a ripple of warmth through her. If the healing balm could be applied to her aching body she’d be whole. This man was taking hold of her entire being.

  “Eliana.”

  She turned to face him.

  “I’ll show you where you can soak while Crawford fixes something to eat and I tend to the animals. Your Pa’s unpacking his camera.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. He never did photograph Baker’s Bridge.”

  Papa came up beside her. “That’s all right, dear. Seeing you fall like that embedded a permanent image of the location in my mind. Reminds me of the time you fell from the oak tree when you were a child and broke your elbow.”

  Yiska’s eyebrows lifted in amusement.

  Eliana retreated to the spring. With the men at a discreet distance, she wrestled herself free from the binding around her chest and took the liberty of removing all but her undergarments. She descended into the therapeutic pool, welcoming the warmth and appreciating Yiska’s thoughtfulness. She exhaled as she submerged and allowed the tension to dissipate, the hot mineral water soothing her aches and pains.

  Through a small place in the vegetation she spied Yiska sitting on a boulder facing the opposite direction, writing in his journal. Papa approached, and they engaged in conversation. Then Yiska jumped up and stomped his boot. Papa rocked up and down on his toes. What were they arguing about?

  Mr. Van Horn had never spoken to Yiska like that before. It took all the self-control he had to keep from raising his voice at the man, but he didn’t want Eliana to hear them. The sparks that flew during that discussion could have ignited a stick of dynamite.

  He knew her father worried about her. The stress of the day must have hit him, but Yiska had done nothing to deserve the condescending lecture. The man nearly blamed him for Eliana’s accident. Mr. Van Horn demanded that Yiska do three things: keep her secret, keep her safe, and keep his distance. He understood Van Horn’s implied warning—no romance. But when Yiska reminded him that he already had been seeing to her welfare, Van Horn reversed his tone. “If anything ever happens to me,” he said, “I’m counting on you to continue to watch out for her.”

  The man didn’t even have to ask.

  At the lower elevation, the four travelers marveled as the range opened up into a beautiful valley dotted with several old log homes. Only a handful of families had lived there since the Baker party wintered there in ’61, but more folks were moving in to reestablish Animas City. It thrilled Yiska to see Eliana’s excitement. Her father’s temperament returned to normal as if they’d never had that discussion.

  The sun set as the small caravan rode over the grassy knoll, seeking out the trading post where they would find Chandler Robbins. Finally. They had arrived at the rendezvous.

  Eliana climbed down from Shadow’s back, a bit stiffly, while the others dismounted. Yiska grabbed Shadow’s reins and handed the horses off to a hostler. They headed toward the trading post, where a man sat sketching the sunset. As he saw them approach, the man rose with a chuckle and made his way toward them.

  Papa quickened his step and held out his hand. “Harland Mattheson? What in God’s green earth are you doing in Animas City?”

  Eliana recognized the name. Mr. Mattheson’s thick beard, though whiter now, and his limp were also familiar. Although anxious to greet him, she hung back and kept her head low.

  Reverend Mattheson slapped Papa on the back. “John, old friend. Chandler told me you’d be going on the survey as the official photographer. That was what finally convinced me to come along. Imagine. Three of us from the Ohio 86th Infantry back together again.”

  “It’s great to see you, Harland. What has it been, seven or eight years?” Papa took Reverend Mattheson to the side and spoke to him in a low voice.

  Reverend Mattheson looked at Eliana and grinned, and Papa beckoned her to come near. “Look at you. All grown up.” Their longtime friend looked her up and down. “I must say you do look quite different from the last time I saw you”—he leaned closer and whispered—“as a girl.” The man cleared his throat. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”

  “Tha
nk you, Reverend Mattheson. It’s good to see you. We’ve missed you a great deal.”

  “I go by Mr. Mattheson these days. I haven’t had a church for some time now. I’ve been keeping myself occupied as a naturalist.”

  “Yiska. Cornelius.” Papa called the men over. “Harland Mattheson, this is Yiska Wilcox, correspondent for the San Juan Prospector. He’s also our guide. And Cornelius Crawford, one of the best cooks around.”

  Eliana was proud of the way Papa made the introductions—especially the way he made Yiska sound so important.

  Mr. Mattheson issued a nod. “Gentlemen. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Let’s go inside and see Robbins and get you all something to eat. Though I’m sure it won’t be nearly as good as Mr. Crawford’s cooking, the owner’s wife is serving up a nice stew and fresh bread.”

  Eliana was glad to see the old friend who baptized her as a girl. One thing she knew for sure—she could trust him to keep her identity confidential. He had at least one secret of his own.

  Inside the trading post, Papa saluted Chandler Robbins. “Sergeant.”

  “Lieutenant.” Mr. Robbins returned the salute and shook Papa’s hand. “John, it’s good to see you after all these years. I’m glad Ryder recommended you when he couldn’t get away.”

  “I appreciate that he did. He gave me my start. Taught me photography right on the battlefield.” Eliana listened with interest, as her father seldom discussed his past.

  “What about you?” Mr. Robbins asked. “I understand you do contract work for the GLO. They were pleased to have you sign on for the survey.”

  “I’m doing fairly well. It’s hard work documenting the mining areas, but we also have a small studio up in Lake City to serve the community.”

  Mr. Robbins arched his thick eyebrows. “Hell’s Acre?”

  “That den of evil is only a remote section of town. The folks in Lake City officially established a fine town last year. There’s even talk of building a church.”