Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1

by Misty M. Beller

Miriam appeared at Leah’s side, offering a welcome distraction and a pot of warm water.

  “I put garlic in the water to help you clean.”

  Leah turned away from the gory sight to dampen several cloths in the water. She stole a glance at Miriam’s face, which was as white as the snow outside. Was she about to faint? The last thing Leah needed was another patient on her hands. She touched a hand to her friend’s arm.

  “Go and care for Drifter now. I’ll tend your brother.”

  Miriam’s eyes flitted to Leah, then she spun and half stumbled to where the dog lay near the cook stove in the kitchen.

  Leah turned back to her own patient. She wrung some of the water from the cloth in her hands, and began to gingerly dab the blood from around the gashes. His chest rose and fell harshly, his rough breathing illuminated by the lack of movement in the rest of his body. Still, it was good to see his lungs were functioning.

  When her cloth touched a spot near the bottom of his ribs, Gideon groaned and his entire midsection seemed to clinch. She jerked away. Had she caused further damage by pressing on some compromised organ? His breathing had grown shallow, but then his muscles slowly released from their contraction.

  “Gideon?”

  His eyes flickered open. There was pain in their murky depths. Still, he met her gaze.

  “I’m…all right. Just…hurts.” His voice was raspy and weak, but at least he was awake.

  “I need to finish cleaning your wounds.” She hated the quiver in her voice, but couldn’t seem to steady it.

  “Go…ahead.”

  She worked quickly to clean the thawing blood from his abdomen, side, and cheek. Some of the gashes looked like they should be stitched. But how did one do that? Just use a sewing needle and thread? But wouldn’t that cause him a great deal more pain? Hopefully, wrapping the cuts with bandages would suffice.

  Next, she cut away more of Gideon’s shirts, removing the bloody parts entirely. She thought about cutting the garments off at the arms, but they might help to warm him for now. When he felt better later, he could change into clean clothing.

  Miriam appeared at Leah’s side again with a handful of dried leaves. “Here’s some Juniper. If you put it under his bandages, it will help with the healing. I always keep some on hand, just never thought I’d need it for this.”

  A faint memory flitted through her mind of Gideon putting leaves under her own bandages when she’d broken her leg. She nodded.

  When it was time to apply the bandages, Leah hesitated, not sure how to wrap the fabric around his body while he lay flat.

  “Gideon?” she called softly.

  His eyes opened into slits. His breathing had deepened again—a good sign.

  “Do you think you can sit up if I help you? I need to wrap bandages around you.”

  His chin bobbed once, and Leah released a breath. She moved to his shoulders and helped to push him up as he groaned and slowly raised himself. He stopped midway, his elbows propping him, while his measured breathing pumped in her ears.

  “That’s far enough.” She worked quickly to wrap the long bandages around his abdomen, covering the juniper leaves she had spread over the gashes.

  “Tighter.” He ground the words through clinched teeth.

  Leah’s gaze shot to his face. Really?

  “My ribs are broken…Tighter will help.”

  She wasn’t sure of that, but obeyed, pulling the wraps a little more snuggly.

  “Tighter.”

  This time he barked the word and Leah obeyed, pulling the cloth as tight as she dared. As soon as she was finished, she helped him lay back. When he was flat on the floor again, he released a slow breath.

  Leah did the same. She reached up to brush the hair from his forehead. The lines around his mouth had softened some.

  Miriam appeared at her side again. When Leah turned, the girl held out a mug to her.

  “Willow tea for his pain.” This girl who normally chattered like a magpie, now wore such a bleak expression. And she’d taken on her brother’s succinct manner of talking.

  Leah tried to offer an encouraging look. “Thank you, Miri. How’s Drifter?”

  Miriam’s gaze had turned to Gideon, and her eyes roamed his form while she spoke. “I think he’ll be fine. Has a big claw mark down his side, but it should heal if it doesn’t get infected.”

  “Good.” With her concern over Gideon, it hadn’t really occurred to Leah that Drifter’s wounds could be life-threatening. “Why don’t you go on to bed now? I’ll help Gideon drink this tea, then he’ll need to rest, too.”

  Miriam turned frightened eyes on Leah. “But what if he needs me?”

  Leah reached to take Miri’s cold hand. “I’ll sleep in the chair tonight. If either of them needs anything, I’ll be right here.”

  Miriam continued to stare at her. What images were flashing behind those green eyes? “You’ll come and get me if I can do anything?”

  “Absolutely. But rest is what they both need for now.” And it could only help Miriam, too.

  “All right.” Miriam rose and trudged toward the bedroom, turning when she reached the door, like a child asking whether she really had to go to bed. Leah offered another encouraging smile, and Miriam continued into her room, closing the door behind her.

  Leah released a breath. Was the girl afraid something dire would happen to her brother during the night? Or just afraid to be alone? Either way, the poor thing needed sleep to help her recover from the evening’s events. She needed to make sure she checked on Miriam in a little bit.

  Leah turned back to Gideon. His teeth were quivering again. She took a blanket from the stack Miriam had brought and spread it across him. She added another and another, finishing with a small lap quilt—the last in the stack.

  Now to get some of this warm drink into him. That would help most of all, with the cold and the pain.

  “Gideon,” she murmured. “I’m going to spoon tea into your mouth. Do you think you can drink it?”

  His chin bobbed again and his mouth parted, but his eyes remained closed. She spooned the liquid in. His lips were red and chapped. Maybe some aloe cream would help? As he swallowed, her eyes were drawn to his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed. The stubble that spread across his jaw and neck only accentuated his manliness. She poured another spoonful into his mouth.

  While she continued spooning the tea, Leah allowed her eyes to roam his face, unhindered by witnesses or the mesmerizing stare of his emerald eyes. His features were strong and proportioned just right. She drank her fill.

  Too soon, the tea was gone, and Gideon’s even breathing signaled restful sleep at last.

  ~

  Everything hurt.

  He inhaled a deep breath and quickly regretted it, as pain burned across his chest. His muscles contracted against his will, forcing a cough through his clenched teeth. The effect of the cough was like a bullet through his ribs, and he couldn’t help but clutch his gut. There was no stopping his moan.

  A cool hand touched his forehead, soft and gentle. Somehow, it chased away the worst of the pain.

  “Sshh, Gideon.”

  The voice rippled through him, like waves of warmth. Was it an angel? He lay still, basking in the feel of the hand that brushed across his forehead, stroking his hair again and again.

  Was this heaven? After all he’d blamed God for over the years, had the Almighty still allowed him to pass through the pearly gates?

  “Are you ready to wake up now?” The soft beauty of the angel’s voice was at odds with her words. He didn’t ever want to wake up. Why couldn’t he stay in heaven?

  The hand stopped stroking his face and hair, leaving him alone to face the throbbing in his temples. Had the pain been there before? Everything hurt, so it was hard to be sure. He needed to get up, to get away from this torment.

  Gideon forced his eyes open, but the effort only created slits for him to see through. He forced his eyes to bring the picture before him into fuzzy focus. The angel smil
ed at him. Her delicate face framed by honey-colored wisps. Her pale green eyes twinkled when she spoke again.

  “I’m glad you’re awake.”

  And with the angel smiling at him like that, he was, too.

  She moved out of his vision, and he turned his head to watch her. But the pain shooting through his temples stopped him. He blinked once. He had to stay awake. Without moving his head, he scanned the room—or at least the ceiling and upper walls. Maybe this wasn’t heaven after all. It bore a striking resemblance to his cabin. But why was he lying on the floor in the main room? And why did his whole body hurt like he’d been clubbed near to death?

  A figure moved into his vision—the angel had returned. When she turned to smile at him again, his fuzzy mind grabbed hold of her image.

  Leah. What was she doing here with him lying on the floor? He needed to sit up.

  He contracted his muscles to bring himself up, but the moment his head came off the floor, his abdomen burned with enough fire to zap the strength from his limbs. He lay back with a thud, not able to contain the groan in his throat.

  “Sshh…” Leah—the angel—stroked his forehead and murmured. “Lie still for now.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, breathing carefully to keep his chest still.

  “I’m going to spoon more of this tea into your mouth. It will help.”

  Gideon forced his eyes open again.

  Leah was watching him, spoon poised by his chin. He opened his mouth obediently, but kept his focus on her face. Maybe he could lose himself in something other than the screaming of his body.

  She was a welcome distraction, with her wide eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Her button nose, her full lips, and her chin with the hint of a dimple. She never met his eyes, but kept her gaze between the spoon in her hands and his mouth. At one point, she dripped a little bit of the liquid on his chin, and he almost enjoyed the pout on her lips as she dabbed him dry.

  When she was finally satisfied he’d had enough tea, she still wouldn’t meet his gaze, but fiddled with something in her lap. He wanted to make her talk again, to look at him.

  “What happened?”

  Her head shot up, her green eyes wider than normal. “You don’t remember?”

  He licked his lips, trying to remember anything before he’d woken up on the floor with this angel sitting next to him. “I only remember being cold.”

  She nodded, releasing a long breath. “You were late for dinner, so we went looking for you. We found you in a cave, near a…a dead…bear.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she paused.

  But when she spoke again, her tone was strong. “You had some scratches on your front and left side, and a bump on your head, but I think you’ll heal completely.”

  Her pretty forehead scrunched, as if she had a thought that worried her. “You said something about a broken rib, too. I cleaned the wounds with garlic water and wrapped them with juniper leaves under the bandages. I hope that was enough. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  She bit her bottom lip, and his fingers itched to smooth the furrow in her brow. When he started to move though, his ribs and chest screamed. He would have to settle for words. “You did fine. That’s all you can do for broken ribs. Just wrap them tight.”

  It was such an effort to speak, and he had to catch his breath after just that little bit. Leah stroked his forehead again, and his eyes drifted shut against his control.

  “Sleep now.” The angel’s voice drifted to him across a wide chasm.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Leah watched the rise and fall of the blankets across Gideon’s chest while he slept. The steady rhythm soothed her nerves. Surely that was a sign he was resting well and regaining strength. She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders, and leaned her head back against the wood. To stay close should Gideon need her, she was sitting on the floor, nestled into the corner of the wall and the bricks that lined the fireplace. The warmth permeating through the clay was calming.

  For the first time, she allowed her mind to drift back through the surreal images of traipsing through the snow, finding the cave, Gideon lying so still, his skin as cold as a mountain stream. The bear with glassy eyes lying in the pool of blood, Gideon’s bulk in the saddle in front of her, his body convulsing from the cold. What had he been doing up on that mountain? Did he know the cave was there? Maybe he’d been out hunting and stopped to eat a bite, or build a fire to get warm. Had the bear surprised him? And where was his horse?

  If God hadn’t led them to Drifter, they never would have found Gideon before he froze to death. Leah sent another prayer of thanks to her Heavenly Father.

  And, Lord, please heal his wounds quickly. Help him not to be in too much pain. And then, as if by rote, her heart spoke its mantra. Lord, please soften his heart. Help him to heal and to forgive.

  Leah stayed in that attitude of prayer for a few more moments, praising her Father for his mercies. At last, the fire beside her had died to a small flame. She released the blanket from her shoulders and moved to place more logs on the coals.

  A stirring sounded behind her, and she turned to find Gideon’s eyes open. The slits were a bit wider than the last time he’d awoken, and he seemed to be more aware.

  “How’re you feeling?” She moved forward to touch his forehead. He’d been a little feverish during the night, but his skin didn’t feel too hot now.

  His eyes opened a little more, enough to show a faint twinkle as he spoke. “Like I had a fight with a bear.”

  A rush of relief washed through her. He was feeling strong enough to joke. She stroked a stubborn lock of hair from his forehead as her mouth found its own smile. “At least you won.”

  Her eyes wandered to his face and found his green gaze like a homing pigeon. There was pain there, to be sure, but also an intensity that kept her from moving.

  “You didn’t tell me you were an angel.”

  Leah’s heart did a little flip at those words, and her gaze lost its hold, sliding down to notice the rakish tilt of his mouth before she looked away. What did she say to that?

  He released a chuckle before a wince cut it short.

  Her attention jerked back to his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just hurts to laugh or breathe.”

  She reached for the kettle from the hearth, and poured another mug of willow bark tea. “Drink more of this.”

  She began to spoon it into his mouth as before, but he shook his head.

  “If you’ll lift my head, I can drink it.”

  Was that a good idea? But she did as he asked, lifting his head just inches from the floor while she held the cup to his lips.

  He was able to down most of the stuff before slumping back in exhaustion. He kept his eyes open, though. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to get some questions answered.

  “Have you been able to remember how you came to be in that cave with the bear?”

  His gaze drifted to the roof, but his focus seemed to be mostly inward, wandering to images playing in his mind. “Not really. I remember being there with the bear charging right at me. I got a shot in him, but it only made him madder.”

  Gideon’s eyes closed and his dark brows pulled together, as if thinking was a major challenge. “Drifter charged him, but the bear knocked him away. I thought he was a goner. Then the bear had me in the air. I landed next to my gun. I remember shooting, but that’s all.” Gideon’s eyes fluttered open again, but were dull now—exhausted and spent from reliving his nightmare.

  Leah brushed the hair from his forehead again. “God saved you for something special. But now you need to rest again. It’s time to sleep.”

  Gideon seemed to agree, for his eyelids had already drifted closed.

  After watching him a moment, she crawled the few feet back to her blanket by the wall, and curled up against the bricks. But it was a long time before sleep claimed her.

  ~

  Leah awoke to the sound of metal clanging acr
oss the room. She jerked her head up, but was slowed by a sharp pain in her neck. A survey of the kitchen showed Miriam bent over the work table, pressing hard on something.

  As she stretched and began to untangle herself from the blanket, Leah’s gaze drifted to where Gideon lay on the floor. The pain wasn’t etched as deeply on his face this morning, and his breathing was steady.

  She made a wide berth around him as she stepped toward the kitchen. Good thing she’d removed her noisy boots.

  “How’re you this morning?” she whispered to Miriam when she was close.

  Miriam whirled, her red-rimmed eyes searching, preparing for the worst. Leah winced at the fear she saw, and couldn’t help but pull the girl into a hug.

  Miriam’s body relaxed against her, and Leah stroked her back while she spoke. “He did very well last night. Woke up a couple times and I gave him tea, then he went right back to sleep. He’s in a bit of pain from some broken ribs, but in a few weeks he’ll be better than new.”

  Miriam nodded and sniffed, then pulled away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I know. It’s just hard to see him like that.”

  Leah wanted to agree, but she didn’t need to make it harder on Miriam. So she didn’t respond. Instead, she gave the girl’s back a final pat and stepped away. “I need to go feed the animals and milk Bethany. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “Oh, let me go, Leah. I meant to do that before you woke up but got stuck with these biscuits. I’d rather be outside, even in the cold.”

  It seemed the little magpie was returning to her usual demeanor. This young lady was resilient, to say the least. “Of course. I’ll take over breakfast, but make sure you bundle up.”

  As soon as Miriam left, Leah surveyed the biscuit dough spread across the work table and the haphazard pile of dough circles that had already been cut. Miriam could do what she had to in the kitchen, but she didn’t seem to have an overwhelming desire to be there. Leah caught herself smiling.

  By the time Miriam blew back through the door in a flurry of wind and cold air, Leah had the oats boiled, the venison gravy keeping warm on the back of the stove, and a pan of biscuits about ready to come out of the oven.