This Healing Journey

by Misty M. Beller

  This one balked at leaving her companions, but they soon had her trotting toward the group of animals collecting to the side. O’Hennessey stood guard on his horse to keep the cluster from spreading back into the herd.

  Within a few minutes, they had twelve cows and a young bull in the group. She guided her horse toward Pa and Reuben while Mr. Peak settled up with their host.

  Before long, they said farewell to Mr. O’Hennessey and set off with the small herd toward Mr. Peak’s ranch.

  “You have a pasture in mind to take them to?” Reuben glanced at Mr. Peak.

  His gaze wandered into the distance. “The grassy area nearest my cabin is partway down the mountain I live on. I’m not sure of any shortcuts from here.”

  Reuben nodded. “I know the way.”

  As they traveled, they fell into a rhythm with Papa and Reuben riding lead on either side of the herd. She and Mr. Peak brought up the rear, spread out enough to keep any cattle from lagging behind.

  The going was slow through the woods, but finally a beam of bright sunlight shone through the trees ahead.

  As her father and Reuben emerged from the woods onto what looked like a rocky mountainside, one of the cows darted to the left, heading toward the sunshine farther up the mountain.

  She kicked her gelding forward, charging up to cut off the animal’s escape. The cow was quick, though, weaving through the trees faster than her horse could. She was just gaining the upper hand when they broke through the edge of the tree line.

  Boulders dotted the mountainside, and her horse had to skirt them while keeping a fast clip to stay abreast of the cow, who wouldn’t be steered down the mountain. Not yet anyway.

  The cow was running so fast when she finally forced it to veer down toward the game trail, that the runaway was well in front of the rest of the animals.

  At last, she had the cow on the trail, and she halted her gelding a little ways above the frightened bovine so it would stay put and wait for the rest of the herd to catch up. Both she and her horse were breathing hard, and the warm sun was already making beads of sweat run down her back.

  A movement to the right snagged her attention. On a large boulder just beside the trail, something shifted. Her chest seized as the image clarified in her mind.

  A snake.

  The creature was curled in a thick circle with its head raised in a striking position. The other end stood up in the air, and the rattles marking the last section of tail were impossible to miss.

  She reached for her rifle, even as she flicked a glance to see what would be in striking range for the reptile.

  Reuben.

  Her new brother was riding at the front of the herd, his focus on the cow on the trail ahead. He couldn’t see the snake that was only half a horse-length away from him, and with the clatter of hooves on the rocky ground, he wouldn’t hear the rattle that was surely sounding as the snake shook its thick tail.

  She raised her hands to her mouth to scream a warning. “Reuben, turn back!”

  But even as she cried out, a knife whizzed through the air, slicing through the snake’s neck.

  Reuben must have heard the sound, for he jerked his horse backward, craning to see up on the boulder.

  The snake’s body tumbled forward, falling off the rock and out of her sight.

  “Are you hurt?” Her father’s voice held an edge of panic as he turned to face his son.

  Reuben held his reins tight, his focus on the trail in front of him, probably watching to see if the snake still lived. “I’m not.”

  At last, he raised his focus and turned to their father, who’d pulled his horse to a stop just behind Reuben’s mare. “That was quick thinking. I hadn’t even seen it.”

  Her father let out a long breath, his shoulders sinking with the exhale. “My only thought was that I couldn’t stand to lose you again.”

  A long look passed between the two men, a look that raised a knot of emotion to clog Hannah’s throat.

  If no other good came of this journey, the love shimmering in her father’s eyes as he looked upon his firstborn made every long hour in the saddle worth it.

  She’d had the look turned on her many a time and knew well the swell of responding love it could raise. She could only hope she’d never give cause for that expression to be denied her. After all, she wasn’t connected by blood to the man she loved so dearly.

  He’d chosen to take her as his own, a choice she worked hard to keep him from regretting.

  Chapter Five

  They say forgiveness is more blessed to the giver than the receiver. But this gift is the most blessed of all.

  ~ Simeon

  With the cattle assembled in a line to maneuver the terrain, they set off again.

  It didn’t escape Hannah’s notice that her father now rode in the lead. A shift she was certain was his own doing. And she didn’t blame him. Her father’s care for his own ran deep in his soul, spreading to every action.

  Mr. Peak glanced over at her, his gaze dipping down to her horse. “That’s a nice gelding you have. Seemed like he could almost read the cows’ minds as you were cutting them from the herd, then again when that cow took off up the mountain.”

  She patted Sterling’s neck. “It’s taken years to get that good, but he’s a smart fellow.” It was impossible to keep the man’s words from warming her. She and Sterling had worked hard to develop their skills and the bond that connected them.

  He tipped his head, and this time his gaze was focused on her. “Your family have a ranch around here?”

  “In Canada, not far above the border. We live in a little valley surrounded by mountains on all sides.” One corner of her mouth tugged. “Surrounded by mountains...and lots of family.”

  His brows rose. “Really?”

  “Aunts, uncles, and cousins in every direction. Even though we’re three days’ ride from the nearest fort, none of us ever wanted for playmates growing up.”

  His eyes danced, but something else shone in them, too. Longing?

  Maybe she should turn the questions on him. “What of you, Mr. Peak? From where do you hail?”

  The merriment left his gaze. “From Virginia. And we lived a half hour’s ride from town, but I didn’t have nearly as much family around as you. Only my mother and grandmother for most of my life.”

  Now it was her turn to tip her head. “No neighbors to play with?”

  He shrugged. “There was too much to do on the farm, it didn’t leave time for playing.”

  “What kind of farm?” A picture was beginning to form of this man, but she still had holes to fill.

  “Horses. We raised them for the cavalry mostly.”

  The cavalry again. He must be a staunch supporter if that group of soldiers had been part of his life from his earliest days.

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. Did she dare ask about his time serving in active duty? She’d like to know what sort of man he was, but... Maybe she should leave well enough alone.

  She’d wanted to see new places and meet new people on this journey. Maybe even find a husband now that she’d left the little valley that had been her life for the past twenty-four years.

  But she’d do best not to fall headlong for the first man she met. Especially when she still hadn’t worked out the details of his character.

  For now, she’d hold her tongue and try not to stare at his handsome face.

  AX IN HAND, REUBEN strode toward the elm lying in wait in the woods, but a lone figure caught his attention.

  Simeon stood in the corner of the clearing near where Pa was buried. The man’s head dipped low, his hands clasped in front of him. A lonely figure.

  And one Reuben could no longer avoid.

  After reading the letters in his Pa’s own hand, notes that contained updates and tales from Reuben’s younger years, he could no longer refute what this man claimed.

  Simeon Grant had sired him.

  Then given him and his sister away for others to raise. The sho
ck was slowly giving way to a kind of bitterness. An emotion he didn’t want to feel. After all, he’d loved his parents. This had been a good life.

  But why would a father give away his children? He could well imagine the grief he must have been under, losing his wife so suddenly. If Cathleen were snatched away from Reuben, he may well lose his mind. But he would want to cling to whatever of hers she left behind.

  Especially their children.

  Yet, what if clutching tight to those babes meant their likely death? The way Simeon had explained it, he’d been facing winter in the mountain country with no shelter. Could they have survived in those conditions? Tiny babes born before their time?

  It was an impossible question.

  But as he walked toward the man, he tried to imagine himself in his shoes. He’d want to give his children the best life he could, even if it meant never seeing them again.

  And he would likely regret that choice for years to come. He would pray for the chance—just one opportunity to see them. To see his son grown to manhood. To know that boy-turned-man had enjoyed a good life. Loving parents.

  The least Reuben could do was assure him of that.

  He stopped beside the man, a few strides separating them as they stared at the same plot of land. Not Pa’s grave, but little Nora’s.

  Of course.

  Long silence stretched between them. Was Simeon lost in memories? Struggling through fresh grief?

  His words finally gave the answer. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” His voice rasped as if he’d dragged it over sharp stones. “The best thing for you both. I never knew how much I would regret leaving you. How much I would miss you.”

  A burn crept up Reuben’s throat. He could imagine that feeling. And he could no longer find fault with Simeon’s choice. This man who’d given them life really had thought he was doing the best for him and Nora.

  And maybe his choice had been right.

  Reuben cleared the lump from his throat. “We— I...had a fine life. Mum and Pa were good to me. I understand how hard that choice must have been for you. I don’t know what our lives would have looked like if you’d decided the other way, but what if’s don’t matter at the end of the day. You made the choice you felt was right, and God worked good from it.” He’d not meant to say so much. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from. But as the silence settled again, he realized he’d meant every bit.

  At last, Simeon turned and looked straight at him, his gaze strong and steady. “I want you to know how proud I am of you. I never dreamed—” His voice broke and his throat worked. “I never let myself hope you would turn out so well. Such a fine man.” His gaze slipped to the house. “A wife who loves you.” Simeon turned back to him, and this time his eyes glistened. “God heard every one of my prayers, and you’re more than I hoped to dream.”

  Tears stung Reuben’s own eyes, and he had to blink to hold them back. His father—the man who gave him life—was proud of him. He couldn’t even remember a time Pa had said that. Maybe he had, it was hard to recall just now.

  All the response he could manage was a nod and a single word. “Thanks.”

  Simeon seemed to understand his emotion, for he reached a hand to clasp Reuben’s shoulder. “Well, then. Are you headed back to work on the elm?”

  Reuben nodded. “Thought I’d get the branches chopped for firewood.” A thought slipped in, not one he’d planned to offer. “There’s an old ax in the barn. The blade needs sharpened, but you’re welcome to it if you want to help.”

  Simeon’s response was slower in coming than he expected, and when Reuben raised his gaze to his father, he caught that glimmer in his eyes again. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d like that.”

  NATHANIEL SLID DOWN from his mare when he reached his barn, pulling the door wide so he and the animal could both get out of the rain. Three days since Reuben and his guests had helped drive Nathaniel’s new cattle to his pastures, and it had rained two of them. He wasn’t getting much done at this rate.

  But after working in the downpour all morning, he was more than ready to dry out and heat himself some warm grub. He could almost taste the leftover beans from what he’d cooked the night before.

  The barn’s interior was dark with no lanterns lit, and the drum of rain outside drowned out most of the normal sounds. He’d always loved the noise of drops pelting the roof, but he was too wet to enjoy it just now. Maybe once he was in the house, in dry clothes and with his belly full.

  He let Raven stand in the aisle while he stripped the saddle and dried the leather. He didn’t have hay cut yet, so he’d been staking the horse out to graze each night. That wouldn’t do right now with all this rain. Surely Raven would prefer a dry stall for the moment, then they could find a grassy area later.

  He led the horse to the enclosure on the end—the only one that didn’t have a leak in the ceiling overhead. Raven balked at the entrance. “Come on, girl. I know it’s dark in there, but it’s also dry.”

  Nathaniel stepped into the stall first, scanning the area to make sure it was as he’d left it. Darkness hugged the corners, but all seemed as before. He turned his focus back to the horse and tugged the reins to pull her in. Raven’s ears stood at alert, her nostrils breathing deeply as she stepped inside. Something wasn’t right with the horse’s behavior. Simple darkness shouldn’t worry her this much.

  Nathaniel’s hand went to the knife at his hip as he peered into the darkness. First one corner, then the next. His nerves eased a little each time he saw through the shadows to confirm all was well. He raised his gaze to check the rafters as he moved around Raven to see the other two corners.

  Nothing.

  Then a shadow shifted behind the stall door.

  He tensed, jerking his hunting knife from its sheath. “Who’s there?” He strained to see into the darkness and finally made out a shapeless form. A blanket thrown over something.

  A whimper sounded from the object. Almost like that of a...puppy?

  “Who’s there?” He kept his voice gruff as he inched forward. Just in case this was a ploy to catch him off guard. But by who? He had no enemies, not unless you counted the hundreds of Indians he’d helped confine to the reservations. The men he’d fought, then women and children he’d restrained.

  He locked his jaw against the memories. He had to keep his wits about him.

  Whatever was buried under that cloth didn’t answer, but the fabric shifted.

  Could an animal be under there? How could a creature drag that blanket in here and hide underneath?

  He was close enough now to reach out and jerk the cloth away. If only he had his gun. If an Indian hid under that shroud with a rifle pointed at him, his knife would be little defense.

  But a grown Indian couldn’t be that small, could he? Whatever was there didn’t come up higher than Nathaniel’s knee.

  Inhaling a strengthening breath, he raised his knife in a striking position. Then he reached out, grabbed the cloth, and jerked it away with a hard pull.

  A yelp sounded, and Nathaniel struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. A mass of black hair shielded a tiny person. A child? The whites of large, fear-filled eyes stared back at him.

  If only he had a lantern. “Who are you?” He softened his voice this time, still trying to see the details of the youngster. It looked like a girl, both from the shape of the face and the long, tangled hair. But he could be wrong on that.

  The sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and black hair proclaimed her to be an Indian, and she couldn’t be more than four or five. Maybe six.

  He dropped to his knees beside her. He wanted to ease her fright, but perhaps it was not a good choice to make himself so vulnerable in case her guardian crept into the stall behind him.

  He shifted around to the side so he could see the doorway out of the corner of his eye. The child pulled back as he moved, fear emanating from her in waves.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Where did you come from?” And how did you get i
n my barn? Someone must have brought her, then left her there—maybe because of the rain—and would return for her soon.

  He needed his rifle. And the child probably needed food and a dry blanket. He reached out to see how wet her covering was.

  She shrank back even farther, and then her face contorted as she gave a cry of pain.

  “Are you hurt?” He scanned her body but couldn’t see anything except a mass of dirty buckskins. In truth, the child was a muddy mess.

  “I’m going to get something for you to eat. Stay here. Do you understand?” She hadn’t spoken yet, and likely didn’t know a word he said. But he needed a lantern so he could determine what was wrong with her. And she was likely in desperate need of food and a warm blanket. Maybe those gifts would help her see he wanted to help.

  Easing away, he stood and reached for Raven’s reins as he spoke to the horse. “Let’s move you to a different stall so she doesn’t get stepped on.” Perhaps they’d find the girl’s guardian in the next pen over. His mouth twitched at his mind’s attempt at humor.

  No Indians presented themselves in the stall corners, and he quickly settled Raven, then slipped out of the barn and jogged through the rain to the cabin. He scanned trees around the clearing as he ran, but nothing seemed unusual.

  Was an Indian watching him, even now? His neck crawled at the thought.

  Inside, he grabbed a chunk of cornbread and scooped a bowl of beans. The food was cold, but would fill her belly. He scooped a cup of water, too. After lighting a lantern, he pulled a wool blanket from his sleeping pallet and loaded up the food, then headed back out in the rain.

  The barn felt eerie as he stepped inside, but that was likely his imagination. Just in case, he shone the lantern in each of the stalls to make sure he didn’t have other unknown guests. He half-expected the girl to be gone now that she’d been discovered, but she still sat where he left her.

  Such a tiny waif with her blanket wrapped around her. Only her face showed through tendrils of stringy hair.