This Healing Journey

by Misty M. Beller

  “I’ll help you get him settled.” He didn’t meet her gaze, just strolled along beside her, his eyes drifting toward his restless cattle.

  Was he coming to give the girl quiet to rest? Or could he possibly want to spend time with Hannah? Or...maybe he just had work to do in the barn.

  She had to stop reading what she wanted to find in each of his looks and actions. Nathaniel Peak was a gentleman, not a man in love.

  It was her own heart that was leaning dangerously near that state. She’d do best to stop herself now before her eventual departure inflicted more pain on herself than she would already endure.

  She searched for something to say to shift her mind onto a safer topic. “Are you going to cut more hay today?” Hay and cattle would be nice, businessy subjects.

  He turned his gaze to her and nodded. “If that’s all right. If you’d rather I stay close, though, I can.”

  She stole a look at him, but he was so near, walking right beside her, she couldn’t hold his focus. “I’d always like to have you near, but I know you have a lot to do. I can take care of things here while you do what’s important.”

  He stopped walking, and she did the same, raising her brows in question. His gaze had turned intense. “What’s important is right here.”

  She could barely breathe with the strength of his nearness. His intensity. His words. Right here. Did he mean the cabin? The girl lying inside? Could he possibly mean her?

  Nathaniel’s hand cupped her cheek, and the warmth of his touch, the calloused, work-worn strength of him, made her lean in. For just a second, she let her eyes drift shut.

  But then she forced them open. She had to know what he was thinking. To see his thoughts in his gaze.

  And those eyes. He was nearer than before. His chocolate gaze had darkened to a rich coffee. His focus dropped to her lips, sending a tingle all the way down her spine. With everything in her, she wanted his kiss. To satisfy the craving his gaze had started.

  His focus lifted back to her eyes, and he must have seen her longing. “Hannah.” Her name came out as a breathy groan. He lowered his face until his breath warmed her skin, then he hovered there, almost as if he were warring within himself.

  She reached up to slip her fingers around his neck. To pull him closer and clinch the decision for him. The silky texture of his hair as her fingers wove through caught her off guard, and she slid her hand farther up his head, relishing the thickness. The delicious feel of him.

  Nathaniel groaned, bringing her focus back fully to his eyes. Those smoldering eyes. Then they blurred as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips weren’t at all what she expected. Warm and gentle, yet with a strength that caressed her mouth, creating a longing deep in her core. She slid her fingers through his hair, around his neck, her hands seeking more of him.

  His own hands slid over her back, down to her waist, holding her tight to him. She moved closer, craving his nearness. Wanting more of this man.

  Then the strength of his kisses gentled, as though he were reining himself in. But it only intensified the longing inside her, creating an ache she could barely contain.

  He groaned again, pulling his mouth away from hers. But he didn’t go far, just rested his forehead on hers as their breathing mingled. “Hannah.” This time his voice was hoarse, rich with the same longing that nearly strangled her insides. “I never thought to find a woman like you.”

  His hands moved back to her face, cupping her jaw, cradling her in his warm hold.

  For a long moment, they stood like that, and Hannah worked to bring her breathing under control.

  At last, he raised his head from hers, putting enough space between them that she could study his eyes. He ran his hands down the length of her arms, took her hands, and lifted them to his chest.

  He studied her, making her wonder what he saw on her face. Did it please him? At last, he spoke. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.” His words made her stomach tighten. But his thumbs stroked the back of her hands, and his eyes grew earnest. “But I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

  Her mouth tugged in a wobbly smile. “Me either.”

  His own face spread in a grin that sent a shiver of joy down her shoulders. He raised one of her hands to kiss the fingers, then lowered it again, releasing his hold. “I suppose we’d better take care of that horse.”

  He wove the fingers of his other hand through hers, holding them close to his side as he turned and reached for Sterling’s reins. The horse had stood quietly beside them the whole time, good fella that he was.

  And as they strolled the final distance to the barn, Nathaniel cradling her hand tight within the safety of his own, she sank into the rightness of the moment.

  Yet even in the midst of her joy, she couldn’t help the longing for more that tightened her chest.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The strength of this thing growing inside me is impossible to deny.

  ~ Nathaniel

  The song swirling in her mind wouldn’t be held back, so Hannah hummed as she filled the empty cracks on the cabin’s back wall. The rain the night before had been light enough that the overhang of the roof had kept the mud mostly dry.

  She smoothed out the final patch of new chinking, then stepped back to see if she’d missed anything. A job well done, as far as she could see now. She could always do a little more later if she found more cracks as the chinking dried.

  For now, she’d best check on Itu and change the poultice on the stump of her amputated leg. When Hannah had replaced the bandage that morning, the wound looked raw and inflamed—not a good sign with the infection they were already fighting. And Itu’s fever had spiked again. Hopefully the garlic poultice and the willow tea were helping.

  After dipping her hands in the bucket of water she’d been mixing into the mud, she wiped her icy fingers on her skirt and headed around the side of the house.

  She’d left the cabin door open to let in fresh air and a bit of sunshine while Itu slept, and also because it would allow her to hear if the girl cried out. As she stepped inside, she squinted against the dim interior and moved toward Itu’s bed pallet. The soft snores that had been drifting from the child all morning had silenced.

  “Are you awake, sweet one?” She kept her voice quiet in case the girl was still sleeping. She still couldn’t see anything but bright circles as her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

  She knelt beside the blankets, and finally her vision cleared a little. Not enough though, because all she saw was a wad of covers. “Itu?” She touched the place where the girl’s head should be.

  Her hand pressed only a flat blanket. Unease churned in her chest. “Itu?”

  She could see clearly now, but ran her hands over the length of the blankets just in case she was missing something. Where could the girl have gone?

  Spinning, she searched the hearth, expecting to find her up by the water bucket. Now that Itu had tasted freedom with the walking stick that morning, she was probably trying to care for some of her own needs. That meant she must be feeling better.

  Hannah pushed to her feet and scanned the room. No Itu. She must have missed her tucked into a corner, so she searched again, moving to the table to see if the girl was hiding behind it.

  The child wasn’t here.

  She lunged for the door. Maybe Itu had gone to the barn. But even as Hannah’s mind searched for rational places where the girl could be, her gut knotted in a hard ball. As weak and injured as she was, Itu could never have come all the way out here.

  Someone had crept into the house and taken her.

  But Hannah had to make sure she wasn’t in the barn. Had to exhaust all other options, just in case.

  The barn interior was even dimmer than the house, but she made sure to peer into every dark corner of every stall.

  No frightened Indian girl huddling against the wall.

  She whirled and marched out of the barn, then paused to scan the yard. “Itu!” She stood perf
ectly still to hear even the smallest whimper.

  No sounds. Nothing except the chirp of a bird in the trees.

  She could no longer deny the truth. Someone had stolen that sweet girl away. Dear, God, show me what to do.

  Perhaps it was her parents who’d taken her, and they had every right to their child. But with the fever spiking again and the stump red and inflamed, the girl needed medicines urgently to keep the infection at bay.

  She had to find them before they got too far away. Maybe she could take some garlic and willow bark with her. If she couldn’t convince the parents to bring the child back to Nathaniel’s cabin, at least she could show them how to care for her.

  Lifting her skirts, she charged back to the house. Inside, she grabbed the sack she’d used to bring over foodstuffs and piled all the satchels of herbals they’d been using for the girl. Garlic cloves. Willow bark. Astragalus root. Dried arnica and marigold petals. All the herbs and plants her parents nurtured so carefully for their medicinal stores.

  Itu would need every one.

  With the loaded sack in her hands, Hannah stepped out of the cabin and paused to take in the landscape. Lord, show me how to find them.

  Her gaze dropped to the ground. Last night’s rain hadn’t created much mud, but it had softened the soil. Maybe she could find prints that would lead her in the right direction.

  She started toward the tree where she’d seen signs of a person before. The grass had been eaten short and cattle hooves pressed deep in the ground where Nathaniel had the rope corral before he’d moved it a couple days before. That should make it easy to see fresh human tracks, especially with the softened ground.

  But as she entered the woods, she saw no sign of fresh prints, especially those left by a man. The leaves around the trees didn’t appear disturbed either. With the under layers of leaves still damp, it should have been easy to see anything amiss.

  But nothing. She walked through the woods for several minutes and saw no sign of anyone.

  Finally, she paused and scanned the area, working to press down her fear for the girl. “Lord, where are they? Show me.” She focused on listening for the quiet voice inside her. It was so easy for her churning mind to override the Lord’s guiding, but she couldn’t let that happen now.

  She started walking back toward the cabin. Since this direction hadn’t been right, she’d need to look in other places. She kept her eyes scanning around her but focused most of her attention on listening for the Father’s direction.

  Back in the clearing, she turned right. If she followed the tree line around the area, she should find prints left by anyone escaping to the woods. The plan felt like a good one.

  When she passed by the barn, she saw the impressions of boot heels in the dirt, but the indentations where water had run through the prints made it clear the marks were left before last night’s rain.

  So she kept walking. Show me, Lord. Her heart kept up a steady prayer with every step.

  She’d made it almost full-circle around the clearing before she found what she was looking for. Among the deep ruts left by wandering cattle, the flattened sole of a leather moccasin was barely visible. She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been searching the ground so thoroughly.

  As she examined the print with all the expertise her wilderness family had taught her, she noticed the buckskin stitching around the edges. Also, she noted the way the man pressed harder in his heel than most Indians who took effort to land on the ball of their foot.

  Either this man wasn’t an Indian or he hadn’t been trained properly in the art of walking silently. Or perhaps he’d been carrying a heavy load that shifted his center of balance.

  A load like an injured child.

  She moved toward the woods, finding a couple more human tracks among the hoof prints. Once the man had moved into the thicker part of the trees, he’d turned south. His tracks here were easier to follow, as though he wasn’t taking time to hide them. As though speed had been more important to him than stealth.

  Maybe she should go back and find Nathaniel. But if she moved quickly, she could catch them right away and either hand over the herbs or take charge of the girl.

  If she lost their trail, it would likely be impossible to find again.

  And she had to find them. Itu needed her. This child’s life depended on her.

  NATHANIEL HERDED THE cattle into the rope corral as weariness weighed his bones. Moving the animals back and forth to pasture every day—at least half an hour’s ride each way—was wearing on them all, but he couldn’t take a chance on losing more stock to a hungry Indian.

  But soon he’d see Hannah again. And that thought was enough to bring a grin to his face as it had all day. Swinging a scythe and moving hay that afternoon had given him plenty of time to think. He couldn’t deny how much he’d fallen for this woman. Her kindness, her beauty, the way she made him want to be a better man—all of these had woven together into something that was a lot more than attraction. It seemed too new to call this feeling love, but one thing he knew for certain—he didn’t want to let her go.

  The problem was, he wasn’t ready for her. His cabin was still unfit for any decent woman. He didn’t have enough stock to make a real living, so he’d be existing meagerly off his savings for another year or so.

  He simply didn’t have a life ready for her. By next spring, things would be better. He’d have a lot of work done on the cabin and outbuildings. He’d have more stock. They wouldn’t have proceeds from the sale of any cattle yet, but if she wouldn’t mind growing and hunting for most of their food for another year or so, they should be able to manage well enough. It wouldn’t be a well-to-do life, not like she deserved. But he wasn’t sure he could ask her to wait two years.

  She’d go back home with her parents, surely, and he could only pray she’d wait for him until he could come to her in the spring. It’d be hard to leave his farm for a couple months when he should be nurturing cattle and cutting hay and putting in a garden, but he’d do whatever he had to for Hannah.

  He unsaddled Raven in the barn, then dipped his hands in a bucket of water and scrubbed his filthy paws, then his face. He had to dry himself with his dirty sleeve, so the effort might have only made things worse.

  As much as he wanted to ask Hannah tonight, he should probably wait until he’d had a bath and a shave.

  Tomorrow. If he could find the right moment alone with her, he’d ask.

  As he strode toward the house, he couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. Maybe he could at least slip in another one of those kisses tonight. He’d kissed a woman or two before, but it had never brought him to life like having Hannah in his arms did. Her touch stirred him like nothing he’d ever felt.

  When he reached the cabin, the door was cracked open. He rapped lightly to sound his presence, then pushed the barrier open. Inside seemed darker than usual, probably because the fire had died to only glowing coals. Hannah must have allowed the flame to fade when the room was too warm, but it certainly didn’t feel that way now.

  Itu’s bed pallet was empty, and a scan of the room showed no one inside. He even looked behind the door, but the place felt as empty as a deserted cave. Where would they be? This was the first time Hannah hadn’t had a warm meal cooking when he stepped in the door. That certainly wasn’t her responsibility, and he shouldn’t let disappointment knot his hungry belly the way it was. He simply needed to make sure they were fine, and maybe join them for a few minutes before she had to head home. So where were they?

  Hannah must have taken the girl outside for fresh air. His gaze wandered to where he’d left the walking stick propped in the corner.

  Still there.

  He spun on his heel and marched back outside. “Hannah?” Maybe they were behind the cabin, soaking in the last few rays of sunshine for the day.

  But as he rounded the corner and saw the grassy area empty of people, worry tightened a rope around his chest. There was something back here, and he stepped clos
er to see a bucket of water and in it, a mixture of chinking mud. He pressed two fingers into the stuff, and they came away almost dry. It had been several hours since she’d last used the mud.

  Maybe as long as it had been since she’d added wood to the fire.

  His pulse sped up a few notches. Something wasn’t right.

  “Hannah!” He yelled her name as he marched back around the cabin and inside. Maybe he could find some clue as to where she’d gone. Her horse was still in the barn, so she couldn’t have taken Itu back to Rueben’s house. And unless someone was helping her carry the child, she couldn’t have gone far.

  He didn’t have much in this little cabin, so it shouldn’t be hard to figure out if anything was missing or out of place—except for the woman and girl he loved. They were missing, and he’d do whatever was necessary to get them back.

  It took going through everything he owned to realize that the herbs for Itu were gone. The rifle Hannah always carried with her was missing, too. A fact that gave him a sliver of relief. The food she’d brought that morning had been dumped out on the floor near the hearth, and the sack was nowhere to be found.

  If she’d planned to be gone several hours, wouldn’t she have taken food with her? Maybe not the abundance she’d brought that morning, but at least something. Or maybe she’d packed some of the food and he didn’t realize it.

  He forced out a long breath to still his racing mind as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. The few things she’d taken didn’t give him any clear idea of where she might be. He’d best get outside and see if he could find tracks that would signal which way she’d gone.

  It took much longer than he had patience for, but he finally found a trail of female boot prints about Hannah’s size leading around the perimeter of the clearing. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d been doing, but as long as he could follow these, surely he could find her.

  The tracks became harder to follow when he reached the place where he herded the cattle to and from pasture each day, and he had to crouch down to examine the ground until he found her tiny prints. She was such a light thing, she barely pressed into the ground. If it hadn’t been for the rain the night before, she may not have left a mark at all. Thank you, Lord, for the rain.