This Wilderness Journey

by Misty M. Beller

  He was so close, even though almost a foot separated their shoulders. She could feel his strength with every fiber of her being.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to ignore his overwhelming presence and focus on the chords. When her hand was positioned, he tapped out the rhythm once, then strummed it.

  She was a bit slow on the first chord change, but settled into the flow easily as he strummed a lively tune. After a couple lines, she started singing the first verse again.

  As she moved into the second, she could hear the rich vibrato of him humming, and it swelled an ache in her chest, not unlike what she’d experienced in the midst of an emotional sonata. Music always had a powerful effect over her, but playing with this man moved it to a deeper level.

  As the third verse moved into the chorus line, his humming turned into singing. Harmony that perfectly accented her melody. He sang in a low tenor. A deliciously rich sound.

  As they entered the tenth short verse, where the words told the story of the ship’s cabin boy drilling holes in the underbelly of an attacking enemy ship, she slid a glance at Joseph.

  He met her smile with a happy glimmer in his gaze, not breaking the rhythm of his singing or playing.

  After the last line of the closing verse, they ran through the chord progression a final time, Joseph ending with a rapid strum for the finale.

  She couldn’t help the thrill pulsing through her as she turned a grin on him. “That was perfect. The best rendition I’ve ever heard.”

  His mouth tipped in an off-kilter grin. “I suppose it wasn’t half bad.”

  The power of that grin set off a flurry in her chest. Enough to make her yearn for much more.

  Chapter Seven

  Just when I thought the penalty for my sins had been paid...

  ~ Joseph’s Journal

  WHEN JOSEPH AWOKE THE next morning, a clean white blanket had settled over the land. He’d slept like a man with a clear conscience, although that description hardly applied to him. Still, after the soul-stirring music he and Monti had played, his muscles had relaxed more than any time he could remember since the accident.

  His nerves, however... Sitting so close to Miss Bergeron had brought every one of them to awareness, his blood coursing through his body in a way that proved he was still very much alive.

  A glance at the woman showed she still slept, cocooned under her blankets and furs so that only the top of her head and her eyes peeked out from the coverings.

  The sun was just rising over the tree line, which meant they were later getting started than the day before. But she looked so peaceful. His gaze swept back to her, and he let his eyes linger. Those pert brows, her perfectly shaped, expressive eyes. Even the shape of her forehead looked elegant. Regal.

  She was so intensely beautiful, it was almost painful to look at her. Especially knowing he was taking her into a land so harsh and unforgiving. The wilderness cared not how exquisite she was. She would be put through the same rigors as every other person, maybe even more. How would she emerge after the testing? Would she let it beat her down? From what he’d seen so far, he had a feeling she’d give even the harshest mountain winter a valiant battle.

  Or maybe...perhaps she would charm this land into compliance, the way she’d coaxed him into playing the guitar last night.

  He turned away. He was probably letting himself get too close to her. Once he deposited her at Father Bergeron’s cabin, he’d likely not see her more than once a year. If she survived.

  He was just coaxing the embers of their fire back to life when he heard a tiny mewing sound behind him. He made the mistake of turning to look.

  She was stretching, but stopped when he turned, then gave him a sheepish little smile that sent his pulse bolting through his chest.

  “Good morning.” Her voice had that sweet, sluggish quality brought on by sleep, and his body reacted by clogging his own throat so he couldn’t respond.

  He nodded in answer, then turned back to the fire. He cleared his throat and finally found words. “It’ll be a minute before I have coffee ready, so you might as well stay where it’s warm.” The thought was all too alluring, so he jumped to his feet and grabbed the kettle. “I’m going to get water.”

  Maybe a dip in the icy creek would douse the ruckus inside his body.

  “DO YOU STILL THINK we’ll arrive at my cousin’s home by evening?” Monti ducked against an icy breeze that tried to slide between her coat and neck. It’d been hours since they’d stopped for the midday meal, but the dense gray clouds hanging low offered no sign of how late it might be.

  “Probably not today. The weather’s slowing us down a bit.” Joseph rode beside her, not hunched as she was, but sitting tall and straight in the saddle.

  Not today. That meant another frigid night. Possibly a fourth day fighting this wind and blowing snow. They’d been climbing hills and skirting mountains all morning, but at least the snow had stopped. This flurry of white was only the wind whipping the stuff off the ground.

  “We’ll need to ride single file through this gap.” He motioned toward an opening between a rocky cliff on one side and a huge boulder on the other. “Stay behind the pack horses, but close.”

  She nodded, then reined her mare in to let the other horses pass. She’d become amazingly comfortable handling the horse after more than two days of solid riding. Of course, Velvet was a sweet mare. Willing to do whatever she asked.

  As Joseph entered the narrow opening between the rocks, an urgency slid through her chest. “Be careful.” Although he was the last person she should worry about being in danger. Joseph knew his way in this place like a fish in a lake.

  His shoulders tensed—enough to make the action clear even across the distance that separated them—and perhaps that was why a knot of fear balled in her middle.

  Father, protect us. Please. She nudged her horse closer to the second pack horse trailing behind Joseph’s mount. The loaded animal surged forward, crowding the horse in front of it.

  It all seemed to happen at once. One of the horses bucked, a tail flying up in the air. The horse behind it jerked backward, slamming into the cliff on their left.

  An animal squealed. Screamed.

  A terrific crack sounded overhead.

  “Yah!” Joseph yelled. The horses in front of her jerked forward.

  Monti’s own mare bolted with them as though she were dragged by a tether line. Monti grabbed at the saddle, scrambling to catch hold before she slid off the back.

  Another sound from above, a screeching, sliding noise.

  Before she could secure herself in the saddle, icy cold snow streamed over her. She didn’t have time to process what was happening before the horse jerked sideways.

  The force of the cold slammed into her. She was tumbling. Her foot snagged on the saddle, then loosened as she lost all contact with the horse.

  Frigid, icy softness swallowed her. Covering her completely. Wrapping her in darkness. Silence. Were her eyes closed? No, the mass of ice seemed to be pressing on her everywhere.

  Someone yelled—Joseph—from a long way away. She fought to find him. To claw out of this silent tomb that pressed down on her.

  She created a little pocket of air around her face, then kicked to free her legs, but she couldn’t move them more than an inch or two. She worked to right herself, but too much snow covered her.

  A muffled noise sounded, like a scraping in the ice above her.

  Joseph.

  She pawed at the snow closest to the sound for minutes that seemed to take hours. Cold and wet seeped under her sleeves, inside her gloves.

  Then her hand struck something hard. She scrambled for it. Grappling as her fingers fought through the snow.

  And then, though she still couldn’t see more than the dim white around her face, her hand broke through the surface. Another hand grasped hers.

  Joseph.

  She clung to him with all the strength left in her. He held tight, a grip so strong i
t hurt. Yet, she wouldn’t trade the pain for anything.

  Except maybe a good strong breath.

  The air inside her little hole didn’t seem as satisfying as it had at first. Maybe her lungs were just struggling under the pressure of the snow.

  Joseph’s hand loosened around hers, then slid away. She scrambled for him again, but then cool air filtered in through the hole his hand vacated. She inhaled deeply. His voice came, sounding as though it were far away. “Hold this arm for a minute. I need that hand to dig you out.”

  The stiffness of his buckskin coat touched her hand, and she gripped it. After groping for a moment, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

  She could feel the ice around her shifting, hear the scratching, see the snow above her glowing brighter as daylight filtered through it.

  Then at last. Light so blinding she had to close her eyes. She pawed at the snow, helping him clear it off her.

  Then he pulled her up to a sitting position, one hand on her upper arm and the other behind her back.

  “Oh...” She tried to form coherent words, but her teeth began chattering the moment she opened her mouth.

  “Let’s get you out.” He shifted to work on the snow still bogging down her legs and skirts.

  At last, she could move her legs, and she pulled them up under her so she could stand. He helped her rise, steadying her when her legs threatened to buckle.

  She took a step forward, but the snow seemed to give way beneath her. Then Joseph was there in front of her, catching her with the breadth of his chest.

  She clutched at him, grabbing fists full of his buckskin coat. His hands came around her waist, holding her tight. Secure. She sank deeper into that hold, burying her face in the safety of his strength. Her chattering teeth quieted as his warmth seeped around her.

  “Monti.” He seemed to breathe her in with the word. And she could feel the scruff of his cheek against the top of her head, the warmth of his breath there.

  She pressed in further. This man would take care of her no matter what besieged them. Every part of her knew it to be true.

  After a long moment, she inhaled a deep breath and released it in a shaky stream. Then she straightened, letting the cold air come between them. Looking up into his face, she took in the earnest way he studied her. The tinge of fear coloring his eyes a deep brown.

  She tried to summon a smile. “Thank you for saving me.”

  He nodded, his throat working. “Are you all right? Hurt anywhere?”

  She ran a quick check on her extremities. Her toes had gone mostly numb, but that had taken place long before the dump of snow buried her. “I’m fine. Truly.”

  Turning to look back at the pile of white, then up at the top of the cliff, she had to shield her eyes from the glare of sun. “What happened?”

  “When the horse bumped the rock, it must have loosened a snowdrift up there. It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt worse.”

  She turned to look at him, then. A miracle? The snow had buried her several feet under, but with Joseph here, he’d been able to pull her out right away. His words seemed a bit extreme. But maybe he’d experienced something similar in his past, and it’d turned out much worse for him. She couldn’t help a glance at his left hand, but she forced her gaze not to linger there. “I’m thankful God brought you here to protect me.”

  He blew out a frosty breath and looked away from her, then turned back and held out his right hand. “Do you think you can ride a few more minutes? As soon as we reach trees where we’ll be protected from the elements, we can stop for the night. Build a fire and let you dry out.”

  “I can go on.” Her legs were icy from the dampness that had soaked through her stockings, but she would last as long as she had to. Placing her gloved hand in his, she shifted her skirts and wobbled through the deep snow.

  Her horse was standing with his, and he helped her back in the saddle. They were on their way soon enough, but she couldn’t help replaying the events in her mind. The fear that engulfed her as she was buried in the darkness. The way he’d used his left hand as more of a broom than a shovel, never moving the fingers. The way he’d clung to her, wrapping her in his strength.

  That feeling alone was enough to warm her all the way to her core, despite the icy winds swirling around them.

  THAT EVENING, JOSEPH had to push himself through the steps to set-up camp and settle the horses. His mind kept replaying the moment he realized Monti had been buried in the snow. The terror surging through his chest. His inability to dig through the icy mass quickly enough with his one working hand.

  And then...that moment when he’d clutched her tight against himself. She’d fit so perfectly, wrapped in his arms. He’d felt—just for a moment—as though he had something to offer her. Maybe it was just the rush of relief that she’d not died under the avalanche. The fact that he’d been there to dig her out. But she made him feel...more alive than he had any time since the accident. Better, too.

  She followed him around more this evening than she had before, helping as she could. Perhaps she sensed the fear that prickled just under his surface. The fear of letting her get too far away. Outside of the reach of his protection. They were safer together than apart in this unrelenting country.

  “The horses have all eaten. I can prepare our meal now.” Monti moved toward him and knelt to place the pot beside the fire he was nurturing.

  “This will take a few more minutes before it’s hot enough for cooking.” He sat back on his heels as the fire finally caught hold of the dry saplings he’d found for kindling. The flame ate away at the wood, almost ready for more substantial fare.

  “Did you have something in mind for the meal tonight? Or I can make corncakes again. I’m doing better with not burning them.”

  He glanced at her, taking in the hesitant look so different than the confidence she’d started the trip with. In truth, she’d come far since that first day when she’d been as prickly as a Texas cactus. “Anything you make would be much appreciated.”

  Her eyes seemed to light at his comment, and she straightened. “I’ll get water.”

  While she worked with the foodstuffs, he checked the horses a final time. The weary animals had already begun to doze on the picket line, so he left them to rest and returned to the fire. Monti was packing the cornmeal mixture into small cakes. “I can’t seem to get these to stick together like you did.”

  He could help her, but she was doing well enough, and she made such a fetching sight working there over the pan. So, he wrapped his arms around his legs and stayed put. “Add a little more water. Eggs are the best to hold it all together, but we don’t have any. My sister uses eggs and a dash of milk, and all kinds of herbs to season hers. Of course, she happens to have all those things handy in her well-stocked larder.”

  Monti glanced over at him, curiosity lighting her eyes. “Your sister who lives near your aunt and uncle? The one with the little girl?”

  He nodded. “They’re my only family left. And Emma’s my twin, so it’s nice to have her close.” Why had he said that? Maybe because he hoped it would bring on the look that now softened Monti’s features.

  “Your twin sister? How special. I hope I get to meet her one day. Are they near my cousin’s mission?”

  He raised his brows at the formal way she referred to Father Bergeron’s simple cabin. “A couple hours’ ride. I’m sure Em would love to meet you. I think she misses having a woman nearer her age to talk to. And Hannah will love you.”

  Her delicate mouth formed an angelic smile. “Hannah is your niece?”

  He nodded, not quite able to shift his eyes away from those dainty lips. That smile. “She’s cute as a baby bunny. Has the same color eyes as me and Em, and little brown curls.”

  She was looking in his eyes now that he’d called attention to them. He shouldn’t have mentioned them, but the way she held his gaze made him not regret the attention quite as much. This woman had a way of making him feel like he wasn’t quite as defi
cient as he knew himself to be. If only he could be the man he saw reflected in her eyes just now.

  He broke the contact and turned away, rubbing his gloved hands on his legs.

  “You said before you lived in Texas. Were you a frontiersman there to? I’ve never been to the United States, although I hear parts of Texas are as unsettled as this land.”

  He slid a quick glance at her. Did he dare share the details of that former life? What would she think of him then? Before he could think through the matter, he let his answer slip out. “I was a law clerk in Texas.”

  She stared at him, that delicate mouth forming a perfect O.

  He looked away again. She could think what she’d like.

  “Do you jest?” That French lilt came back into her tone, drawing him. He forced himself to resist its pull to study her.

  “I jest not. It was the most boring time of my life.” He reached for a log and positioned it on the fire. “When Emma needed someone to take her north, I jumped at the chance. That’s one decision I’ll never regret.”

  MONTI REPLAYED HIS words in her mind. That’s one decision I’ll never regret. As if he lived with the pain of other choices he would change if he could.

  Such an enigma this man was. She’d known he wasn’t simply an uneducated boor. He spoke too well for that to be the case. When he spoke at all, that was. But a law clerk? She studied him, trying to picture wire-rimmed spectacles framing those clear amber eyes. Bent over a desk with pen held tightly in ink-stained fingers.

  The sight seemed so at odds with the rugged man sitting across from her, a giggle bubbled up her throat. She caught it just as the sound escaped her mouth in a sort of chortle. Pressing a hand to her neck, she smiled at him. “I must say, that wasn’t quite what I expected. I suppose the mountain wilderness doesn’t offer much work for a law clerk. Is that what made you change professions?”