The way she wouldn’t look at him when she answered told him a great deal. She was worried about the girl, and the thought made him wish he could take her in his arms. Pull the heavy weight of anxiety from her.
If only he were capable.
Instead, he turned to look at Itu again. “How is she?”
Hannah followed his focus. “She slept fitfully, but I think her fever may be lower this morning.” She glanced at the doctor. “Maybe. We’ll see what Doc Bryan says.”
He reached forward and brushed the girl’s forehead with the backs of his fingers. Maybe it wasn’t as hot. He wasn’t very good at assessing these things.
Turning back to the hearth, he peered inside the pot. “What can I do to help?”
“I’m only making a simple corn mush, but it’s almost ready.” She reached for the coffee pitcher and a cup, and poured a full helping of the dark, steamy brew.
He took the tin when she offered it, then cradled it between both his hands, savoring both the warmth and the aroma. “What’s the plan for today?” A taste of the brew proved it was just as good as he’d suspected.
She reached for a bowl and scooped a spoonful of the creamy porridge. “If she doesn’t take a turn for the worse, the doctor plans to leave this morning.” She kept her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll stay with Itu today, and Papa said he’d be glad to help you in the fields or with whatever you need doing.” She handed him the bowl.
He lowered the half-empty coffee cup to the floor and took the warm gruel, raising it to inhale a good whiff. “All this good food alone might pull her through the infection.”
Hannah raised her brows. “It’s only corn gruel. I wish I had eggs and milk to make a real meal.”
A bit of warmth touched his ears. But then, she’d seen his feeble supplies. He raised a bite of the porridge to his mouth to test its warmth. “I need to get a milk cow and chickens. I plan to, there’s just so much still to do.”
She watched him. “Are you looking for more stock cattle first?”
He swallowed down a hearty bite. “I have to get the hay cut first, or I won’t have enough to feed the animals I have through the winter. I wanted to get started on my horse herd, but I think I may’ve been getting ahead of myself.”
She tipped her head. “So hay first, then horses. You’ve fixed the barn roof and replaced the cabin door. What else is on your list?”
“A corral by the barn for the riding horses. A coop for chickens. I need to fell enough trees so I can cut them into slabs through the winter for a cabin floor. And furniture. But before that, I need to replace the chinking between the logs. A few more rains and I think half of it will wash away.” He stared at the daylight filtering through a bare spot directly across from him.
Then he realized all he’d said aloud. “You didn’t want to hear all that though.” He took another bite to silence himself.
“I did actually.” Her voice was still quiet but held a thoughtfulness that made him turn back to look at her.
Her gaze was intense. “I’d like to help.”
He swallowed, wanting to look away. Wanting to deny his need. Yet, another part of him craved to pull her close. To kiss those lips that called to him. To tell her how much he truly needed her.
Instead, he said nothing. Just let her nearness, those beautiful eyes, speak to him.
The cabin door opened, breaking through his focus. He turned to see Simeon entering, the sound of his tread on the stoop stilling the snores coming from the doctor. It appeared his few quiet moments with Hannah were at an end.
Maybe that was for the best, but he couldn’t help the frustration that slipped through him.
HANNAH MAY NOT BE A swift hand at cutting slabs of wood for corral fencing or floors, but she could chink cabin walls with the best of them. She’d certainly helped with her fair share of re-chinking projects at their cabin or one of their family members’.
The men had all gone their separate ways—the doctor to stop by Reuben’s house before returning to town and Nathaniel and her father out to check the cattle, then work in the hay field. She’d cleaned up from the morning and swept out the cabin again, stopping to visit with Itu every time the girl was awake. She was able to get the child to drink some willow tea, but Itu shook her head every time Hannah tried to spoon corn gruel into her mouth.
Her body needed sustenance, but she surely felt too miserable to eat. Hannah would have to keep trying.
For now, though, it was time to mix some chinking mud and set to work. She’d packed lunches for her father and Nathaniel, so there was a chance she could get two or three walls patched before she had to stop to prepare the evening meal. Of course, that depended on how hard the old mud was to scrape out.
A few hours into the project, she stood in the warm summer sun sweating and covered in chinking material. Itu had slept with only one interruption, which was surely good for her. Mama always said sleep contained healing powers.
The old chinking mud between the logs fell out easily, but she’d forgotten exactly how long it took to do a thorough job.
And how much mud the task required. At this rate, she’d only get one long wall finished today.
But that was one wall Nathaniel wouldn’t have to worry over. She scooped up another handful of the mud and grass mixture and pressed it into the crevice between two logs.
A sound from behind made her pause. It was only the snapping of a twig, but something about the noise made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She eased around to study the trees around the clearing.
Nathaniel had said he’d seen evidence of someone watching from the woods, but that had been several days ago. With all the anxiety of yesterday, she’d forgotten to be on her guard.
Was someone standing out there now? Watching her?
She hadn’t brought her rifle outside with her. Foolish. Were the Indians here friendly like the Piegan back home? Reuben had said he thought Itu was from the Hidatsa tribe, but she knew nothing about them.
Perhaps if she greeted the stranger in the woods, they could convince the person that Itu needed to stay here where she could be cared for adequately. Together, they could all help the child heal. Surely Itu would be overjoyed to see her family again.
Rubbing the mud from her hands, she stepped toward the trees, into the open land between the cabin and the woods. “Hello?” Maybe the stranger knew English, but maybe not. The only other greeting she knew was the Piegan welcome her aunt Moriah had taught her, so she spoke that.
Silence was her only answer. Long, uninterrupted quiet. No birds twittered. No chipmunks chattered. Someone was out there.
“If you’d like to come see Itu, I can take you to her.” Lord, don’t let this be a mistake.
She stood quietly. Waiting.
No shadows stepped from the trees. No movement at all that she could see. Maybe it would take some time for them to come to trust her.
With one final scan of the woods, she turned and strode back to the cabin, heading around to the front.
She’d feel better if she were there with Itu. And she could still work by trimming the chinking from inside.
Having Itu’s family there would surely help the child, but no matter what, Hannah couldn’t let her be taken. As weak as her body was, a journey would be the end of her.
And what would her people say when they saw her amputated leg? God, help us.
Even as she sent up the prayer, a knot balled tight in the pit of her stomach.
AS NATHANIEL LAY ON his sleeping pallet that night, his eyes traced the fresh chinking along the wall beside him. He still couldn’t believe how much Hannah had accomplished. Couldn’t quite fathom that she’d done it all.
Hannah Grant was one special lady, doing more in one day than he could manage in two or three.
Itu’s thick breathing filled the quiet cabin. The girl’s fever still burned, but she didn’t seem quite as miserable as before her leg was removed. If they could get a decent n
ight’s sleep tonight—both of them—maybe he could manage to care for her the way she needed tomorrow.
Hannah hadn’t said when she’d return, and he had to be able to manage without her.
He probably wouldn’t accomplish much more than caring for the girl, what with the herbs and bandage changes she’d need, not to mention the food and lots of water the doctor had prescribed.
That wasn’t half of what Hannah could manage, but he couldn’t rely on her. As much as he was beginning to wish it, Hannah Grant wouldn’t be in his life forever. He had to manage on his own two feet.
“YOU THINK SHE’S GETTING better?” Hannah knelt beside her mother the next afternoon. Mama had been feeding warm chicken broth to Itu while Hannah put together the last of the evening meal.
“I think so.” Mama’s voice rang in a sing-song tone, probably for the girl’s benefit. “She’s certainly eating better than she was this morning.”
Hannah had wondered at her mother’s unexpected request to accompany her to Nathaniel’s today, especially after Mama had quizzed her about the man so much the night before. But working alongside each other through the day had been thoroughly pleasant. Together, they’d given the small cabin a thorough cleaning, replaced the chinking in the two shorter walls, and put together a nice evening meal using food supplies they’d brought.
In truth, it was like a pleasant day at home, working in tandem as they talked or hummed or just enjoyed the sounds of their diligence.
And after another day or two, she’d be done with the chinking and ready to start working the ground for a small garden plot. “Do you think Cathleen would mind giving up a few of her vegetable plants? I’d like to plant a small garden out beside the cabin, but it’s too late to start from seeds, I think.” She pointed toward the most level area in the clearing.
Her mother didn’t answer right away, and Hannah glanced over her shoulder to see what she was doing. Mama regarded her with one of those all-knowing gazes. “Hannah, I doubt we’ll be here all summer. I know your father wants to be home again before the first snow. Will Mr. Peak have time to tend the plants and harvest the produce? And store the food properly for winter? ”
Hannah’s chest squeezed. She wasn’t ready to leave. How could she ride away from these people who had come to mean so much to her? Especially when they needed her.
The sound of a cow’s moo outside saved her from having to manage an answer. What in the world? Hannah pushed to her feet and strode toward the door. Even though she wanted Itu’s guardian to come visit the girl, they’d kept the door braced and her rifle propped beside the entrance. She wanted visitors, but only on her terms.
A peek through the slit in the door showed Nathaniel’s tall form atop his mare, working their way around the edge of his cattle toward the barn. He certainly knew how to sit a horse—and make her heart beat faster watching him. But why had he brought the stock in from the pasture where they’d have a lot more grass than in this scant yard?
Something about his jerky movement as he dismounted showed a different kind of emotion than she’d expected.
Anger?
“It’s Nathaniel. He’s brought the cows in.” She pushed aside the brace and pulled open the door. “I’ll be right back.” Maybe she should do the proper thing and wait for him to come inside, but he probably needed help. And something wasn’t right.
Chapter Fifteen
I left the cavalry to escape this pointless violence.
~ Nathaniel
Hannah closed the cabin door and hurried across the yard to the barn. When she stepped inside, Nathaniel had tied his mare and was loading cords of rope over his arm. His quick, efficient movements still held a tension that clenched a knot in her midsection.
“Nathaniel? What’s wrong?” She stepped inside and moved toward him to scoop up the last of the rope from the pile on the ground. “What are you doing with this?”
“A cow’s dead.” He spoke the words without looking at her, his voice almost void of emotion. Almost. “I’m keeping the rest of the herd here where I can watch them. At least for tonight. Will you help me tie this rope around the tree line for a fence?”
As much cord as this was, it still wouldn’t stretch all the way around the clearing, which meant they’d be corralling the cattle in tight. She wrinkled her nose but followed Nathaniel out of the barn.
Her mother came out of the house to help, and the three of them had the small herd contained within a few minutes.
“I need to go check the food.” Her mother wiped debris from her hands as she turned toward the house.
Hannah could go with her, but too many questions burned in her mind. Maybe she could pry more details from Nathaniel’s locked jaw while they unsaddled his horse.
With him working on one side, and her on the other, they made quick work of unfastening the mare’s saddle. She reached for a cloth to wipe the lathered horse down while he hauled the heavy leather off the mare’s back and plopped it on the bar where he usually kept it.
She’d been waiting for him to settle enough to talk, but he was working so quickly, they’d be heading inside before she raised her questions. So she started in, even though his back was turned as he fumbled with something on the saddle. “Was it wolves?”
He shook his head, and the tendons in his jaw flexed as he turned and grabbed another rag. He moved forward to brush the mare on the opposite side from where Hannah was working. “An Indian killed her.” The words were terse, and again he didn’t look at her as he spoke. His expression was just like that of her oldest brother when he was trying to keep his rage bottled inside.
“How do you know it was an Indian?” A helpless cow could have been killed by sickness or a cougar or any number of wild animals. Or, if Nathaniel had seen clear evidence of knife wounds caused by a human, the culprit could have been from any race.
He whirled away and reached for his rifle leaning against the barn wall. Except he didn’t grip the gun. His hand closed around something propped beside the weapon.
An Indian arrow.
Goose flesh rose along her arms as she watched him bring the shaft to her. She reached for it, her eyes not missing the dried blood covering the pointed head. She shifted her gaze to the paint and feathers at the other end.
“I don’t know these tribal markings. Do you?” She lifted her focus to Nathaniel.
“All I know is they cut out all the meat from the cow, then left this lying atop her like a calling card.” The hard glint finally softened in his eyes, turning to a question. “I don’t know why they would make it so obvious. Do you think it’s a taunt? What have I done to anger them?”
Through the layers of emotion in his gaze, she saw something that made her heart ache. Hurt.
He was such a good man, doing his best to mind his own business and help an innocent girl who’d showed up in his barn. At great personal expense, for that matter. And the natives were repaying his kindness by attacking the thing most important to him.
She’d finished rubbing down her side of the horse, so she moved around to where Nathaniel was standing. His jaw had clenched again. In anger, sure, but she was pretty certain part of his ire was there to cover the deeper injuries this attack had wrought. Maybe Nathaniel didn’t even know their depths yet.
She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll ask Reuben if he knows which tribe this arrow came from. It’s possible someone resents us keeping Itu away from them. But that’s just speculation on my part.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned away, pulling her hand from his arm. “Maybe they know I was in the cavalry and came to punish me for my crimes. If so, they should take the whole herd.” His words were mumbled, but she could still pick them out.
Lord, help him forgive himself. She didn’t know what offenses he was talking about, but the Nathaniel she’d come to know wouldn’t wound a rabbit if he didn’t have to for survival. He certainly wouldn’t hurt a person of his own free will. Whatever his past, Lord, let him see that
his future can be new and unmarred.
NATHANIEL GULPED THE last ground-laden swig of his second cup of coffee as he sat on his cabin stoop the next morning. Between checking on the cattle and staying close to the house for Itu, the night had been impossibly long. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten even one hour of unbroken sleep.
Which meant he wouldn’t be worth much today.
Hannah had promised to come again and tell him what Reuben thought of the arrow’s origins. The man seemed to have an unusual knowledge of the Indians in this area. Lord willing, he’d be able to shed some light on what Nathaniel should do next.
He certainly couldn’t keep the cattle penned in this little rope corral much longer. They were already pushing against the restraint, and they needed better grazing.
But he also couldn’t afford to lose another hard-earned cow. He had to keep them close. Maybe when Hannah arrived to care for Itu, he could herd the animals to pasture for the day.
He gazed at the trail where she’d ride in, wishing his thoughts could summon her. But he wasn’t so lucky.
By the time he finished his third cup of sludgy dark brew, a whinny from the trail signaled Hannah’s arrival. A second rider rode beside her. Reuben.
Tension eased out of Nathaniel like a pent-up breath. Hannah always knew what he needed, even when he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
He stood to greet the pair as they approached, lifting a hand in greeting when they reached him. His weary mind wouldn’t summon any words.
Hannah reached him first, her gaze scanning his face with a critical eye. He probably looked as haggard as he felt. “Did something else happen?”
He shook his head. “All was quiet through the night. The cattle are raring to get out of that rope, though. I’ll take them to pasture in a little while.”
She still studied his face, and he wanted to turn away from her scrutiny, but he couldn’t walk away yet. He had to know Reuben’s thoughts on the arrow.
This Healing Journey Page 11