Someone lay near him, as he’d suspected by the sound of steady breathing. A buffalo hide covered the form, but he could just make out the person’s hair at one end. Dark. Was it black, like an Indian’s, or lighter, like Monti’s rich brown? The shadows made it impossible to tell.
And then, the person turned in her sleep, revealing the outline of a delicate profile against the faint glow of coals in the fire. That profile was emblazoned in his mind, those aristocratic features that had appeared in his dreams most every night.
With renewed fervor, he went back to cutting the leather covering. He didn’t stay quite as silent this time, because it was Monti who lay nearest him. If she awoke, he only had to keep her quiet until he could sneak her out.
Chapter Twenty-One
My heart beats wildly.
~ Monti’s Journal
IT MUST HAVE TAKEN an hour or more to cut a slice large enough for her petite frame to slide through. With no moon on this blackest of nights, he couldn’t be sure what time it actually was. All he knew was they must be long gone by the time dawn brightened the sky.
Laying the knife aside, he reached his head and right arm inside the lodge, which was as much of him as the tiny opening would allow. He couldn’t chance Monti waking with a start that might bring the others to life, so he slipped his hand over her mouth. Then he eased his thumb back and forth across her soft cheek.
He could feel the moment she awoke, her body tensing first, then her eyes easing open as though she were trying to calculate the danger before she showed too much awareness.
He didn’t dare speak, but he shifted her head toward him so she would see who he was. The moment she saw him, her eyes popped wide. He eased his hand off her mouth and pressed a silencing finger to her lips. She nodded.
He scanned the room, then looked back at her and mouthed, “How many?”
She carefully pulled her hand out from under the fur and held up two fingers, then pointed over her shoulder across the lodge. The steady hum of a man’s light snores made it apparent where one of the Indians was. He couldn’t see the other.
He motioned for her to come out through the opening he’d cut, and she nodded understanding. As she lifted the buffalo robe and slipped out from underneath, the rustle of leather and fabric rumbled loudly in his ears.
He focused on the bulky mound across the teepee, but the only movement was a steady rise and fall of the shape.
Monti crawled toward him, and he pulled back out of the opening to let her through. She seemed to get snagged on something inside, and he heard a faint hiss, as though from pain. He couldn’t see what the problem was, though.
Then she started toward him again, crawling barely above the ground.
Her head pushed through the opening. He tried to help pull her out, but she waved him away. It would probably be louder for him to pull her than for her to crawl herself. He’d never known a woman’s skirts could make so much noise as they rubbed and rustled in the still of the night.
Finally, Monti had most of her body out. Then one leg. As she pulled the second leg free, her boot struck something that clanged like an empty tin.
She froze.
Something stirred inside.
He didn’t wait any longer, just jerked her up and ran, bent low as they darted around a teepee toward the spot where Three Shadows and Thunder Rumbles waited.
A man hollered behind them. The shrill voice of a woman yelling. Dogs barked. A melee rose up, but Joseph ran, gripping Monti’s arm in his hand. He’d left his knife back at the teepee. Lord willing, he wouldn’t need it again until they were out of this mess.
Just as he rounded the front corner of a lodge, Monti cried out, and her arm almost jerked out of his grip. He swung around, preparing to fight whoever had grabbed her.
A giant of an Indian yanked her backward, but Joseph didn’t let go. If he lost her, this beast of a man could turn and run.
He swung his leg up to deliver a hard blow to the man’s lower regions. He wasn’t above playing dirty. Monti’s life was at risk here.
The man grunted but never lost his hold on his captive. A swish sounded, and a glint of metal shone in his hand.
He raised the knife high, but another scream pierced the air. This one a war cry.
A blur rushed by Joseph from behind.
Thunder Rumbles raised a lance and thrust its end into the brute.
The man released Monti’s hand, and she jerked back and away from him.
The two Indians launched into hand-to-hand combat. The stranger had blood spewing from his shoulder, and Thunder Rumbles seemed to be quickly overtaking him.
“Let’s go!” Joseph yelled. He didn’t have to pull hard for Monti to follow, and she was on his heels as they reached the spot where Three Shadows waited, crouching.
The man rose at their approach. “Where is the other?”
“He’s fighting the Indian.” Joseph could barely draw enough breath to speak. “He needs help. Get Monti out of here and I’ll go back.” Thunder Rumbles had saved their lives. Joseph had to get back and help him.
Three Shadows pulled out his knife. “Take her and call for the others. Don’t wait for us. Our men will fight the battle. Take the woman to her people.”
Joseph paused, emotion clogging his throat. “I can’t leave you.”
The other man met his gaze. “Yes. Take her to safety.” He clasped Joseph shoulder.
He swallowed down the burn in his throat. “Thank you.” For everything. “Go. Thunder Rumbles needs you.”
With that, the Indian disappeared into the darkness.
For the first time, Joseph let himself turn and look at Monti. She looked so tired. So fragile beside him. He still clutched her arm, but he let his hand loosen and slide down to take her hand, weaving their fingers together.
What he really wanted was to pull her close, but they weren’t safe yet. He had to get her out of there and summon the other men. “Can you run?” He met those dark, breath-stealing eyes.
She nodded. “Wherever you lead.”
He kept a hold on her hand while they ran, darting from shadow to shadow as they made their way through the narrow space between the camp’s edge and the cliff wall. Monti didn’t drag behind, but the going was slower than if he were by himself. They were moving away from the commotion, thank God.
The brawl had grown louder, which tightened the knot in his gut when he thought about Thunder Rumbles and Three Shadows trying to hold their own against all those Indians. He had to get help.
The pounding of hooves sounded in the opposite direction from camp, and even in the darkness, he knew exactly who it was. The other braves must have heard the noise or grown worried when the escape took so long.
No matter the reason, the cavalry had arrived. With twenty mounted warriors, they all stood a strong, fighting chance of coming out of this skirmish alive. And maybe even with the horses that had been stolen.
He tightened his grip on Monti’s hand. “My horse is a little farther.”
He couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but he could feel her answering squeeze. “Lead on.”
MONTI CLUNG TO THE saddle horn as Joseph pushed his horse to keep up the quick pace. The blush of dawn was lightening the eastern sky, and they’d been riding pell-mell for what felt like a half hour at least.
But she didn’t blame him for wanting to get as far away as possible before they slowed. Even though her lower regions were growing numb from all this time in the saddle, she couldn’t complain about being tucked inside his strong arms. The arms that made her feel safe and cherished. He kept his left arm around her waist while he used the other hand to steer.
And every so often he’d lean forward and murmur something like. “I prayed you’d be safe.” Or, “I can’t believe you’re all right. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
Yes, he made her feel cherished.
It was another quarter hour before Joseph finally let the horse slow to a walk.
She leaned fo
rward and stroked the gelding’s reddish-brown winter-thick hair. “You’re a good boy, Copper. I’m sorry to make you work so hard all night.”
“He’d do a lot more if it meant keeping you safe and getting you back.” Joseph’s deep tenor rumbled in her ear.
She turned to smile at him and couldn’t help a bit of teasing. “Are you speaking for the horse or yourself, Monsieur Malcom?”
The way his eyes darkened to rich chestnut nearly stole her breath. She could melt in those eyes, especially when they heated with the intensity blazing in them right now. “For the horse. As for me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I promised God, too.”
Then he leaned forward and brushed a warm, breathy kiss on her jaw.
And the shiver that coursed through her at that touch was enough to steal the strength from her limbs. She lay against the cradle of his arm and turned her face to him fully.
If it were possible, his eyes darkened even more. His kiss was feather-soft, sugar sweet, and oh... She had no power to do anything but revel in him.
Joseph.
This man who’d taken her heart so fully. He brought parts of her to life she didn’t know she possessed. The man who’d first cracked her defenses, letting her see she didn’t always have to be self-sufficient. Softening her heart so the Lord could reach through and take over. Fight her battles.
And just as He’d promised, His salvation had been swift and complete.
MONTI WAS ASLEEP IN Joseph’s arms when he reined his horse to a stop in front of Emma’s cabin. Weariness had seeped all the way through his bones, and he wasn’t altogether sure he could hold them both up if he ever got them off the horse.
The cabin door opened, and Simeon appeared, still pulling on his coat as if he were on his way out to tend the animals. He looked surprised to see them and turned to speak to someone inside before he closed the door and trotted down the step, still adjusting his coat.
“What’s wrong?” The concern on his face was obvious.
What a sight they must look, weary and bedraggled and probably quite tousled. Monti, of course, was beautiful as always, but not her usual put-together self. “It’s a long story. Need to get her inside and warm. She’ll need a meal and sleep, too.”
Monti woke then, shifting and mewing like a sleepy kitten. It made him want to snuggle her tight and nuzzle her jaw and the softness of her neck. But he would restrain himself...for now.
She let Simeon help her down, then looked up at Joseph.
He dismounted and slipped a hand around her waist so he could speak into her ear. “Go inside and let Emma fuss over you. I’ll be in as soon as I tend Copper.”
“I’ll take the horse.” Simeon reached for the reins. “You both go get warm.”
The cabin door opened, and Emma came out in a flurry, seconding her husband’s words.
Joseph didn’t try to fight it, just asked Simeon to give his gelding an extra ration of feed and put the deer carcass in a safe place. Emma had her hand tucked in Monti’s elbow, so he let his grip slide away from her waist. But then she reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his like she’d done on the ride. Making his chest hitch.
Somewhere during the night—maybe during the fear that dogged his ride to the Indian camp, maybe when he saw her elegant profile lying on the pallet of furs in the Indian lodge, or maybe when he held her tight on the hurried ride to safety. Somewhere, he’d made a decision, deep in the innermost parts of him.
God had brought this woman into his life. A blessing he’d never expected. Even when the Almighty had practically wrapped the gift in a fancy bow, he’d tried to hand it back.
No more. He would accept the gifts he’d been given. The grace. Monti.
He’d accept and treasure them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No longer I, but Christ within me.
~ Joseph’s Journal
MONTI HAD TO FORCE her eyelids open as her body awoke, and, for just a moment, she thought she was still on the trail with Joseph. That first journey from Fort Hamilton to Antoine’s cabin. Her muscles ached like they had during those long days in the saddle, but this straw tick and colorful quilt had definitely not been with them on the trail.
She stretched, letting herself enjoy the luxury of Emma’s spare bed chamber for another stolen moment.
Voices hummed in the other room, and she glanced at the window. Daylight. The lighting seemed dim, like it was either morning still or coming into evening. Either way, she’d better get moving.
The events with the Indians seemed like another lifetime. Or maybe part of her dreams.
A thought jolted her. Antoine. She’d not returned home last evening. He must have been frantic.
After lacing her boots, she moved toward the door and opened it, taking a moment to peer out into the main room. Several people sat around the table, and the moment she took in the slightly stooped shoulders of her father’s cousin, her pulse slowed. Someone must have ridden to tell him she was safe.
Then her gaze landed on a form sitting opposite the priest. Joseph. He was looking at her with one side of his mouth tipped up in that grin that roused a fluttering in her midsection. Maybe it was the dark stubble on his jaw that gave him the aura of a rogue. Regardless, the sight of him made her chest tighten and pulled an answering smile from her.
“Monti.” Emma rose from her chair to stride toward the stove. “Come eat with us. I made a thick stew. You must be starved. And you’ve come out early enough that Joseph hasn’t eaten it all yet.”
Antoine stood and turned to her, his arms out. She moved into them, letting the warmth of his fatherly embrace soothe the rough ends of her fractured nerves.
“I knew our Father would care for you, ma fifille. But I must say, I kept my petitions at his feet all through the night.” His weathered voice seemed to quiver a bit.
She gave him an extra squeeze. “He fought the battle for us. But I’ve never been so happy to wake in a bed as I was just now.”
He patted her shoulder, then motioned toward the empty chair beside Joseph. “Sit and eat.”
She met Joseph’s gaze as she walked around to the empty chair, and when she sat, the way he squeezed her hand under the table sent a flow of warmth up her arm.
The meal saw a lively conversation as she recounted her story, and Joseph filled in with tidbits from his own adventures. Apparently, he’d been awake long enough to have told the full version of his tale to the group already. He’d already told her those details as they rode last night. She could still feel him sitting behind her in the saddle, arms strong around her, breath warming her neck as his deep vibrato rumbled in her ear.
“I wish I hadn’t gone for that deer.” That same gentle tenor soothed her, even now.
“If you hadn’t, those Indians might have scalped you to get Monti. Then where would you both be?” Emma eyed her brother from the end of the table. The stubborn lift of her chin and the narrowed glare of her amber eyes was a look that seemed familiar. The same look she’d seen on Joseph more than once.
He shrugged and turned to Monti. His gaze seemed to thicken in a way that melted her insides as his thumb stroked her hand under the table. “I just wish none of it had happened.”
It was hard to form a coherent thought with Joseph looking at her that way, much less put it into words. Yet she forced herself to give voice to the insight she’d had as she drifted to sleep in Emma’s cozy bed. “They meant it for my harm, but God meant it for good.”
“Oui.” Antoine straightened in his chair and looked at her. “Are you ready to go home, ma fifille?”
A twinge of something she’d rather not define pinched her chest, but she ignored it and nodded. “I am.” She could make the journey again. And this time she would be on her guard.
“I’m coming with you.” Joseph spoke with a stubbornness in the line of his jaw that brooked no discussion.
She bit back the impulse to mention that he’d ridden with her last time when she was kidnapped.
Of course, it wasn’t his fault she’d been taken. And besides, Joseph wasn’t her protector, God was. It was nice when God used him for the job, though.
The ride back was blessedly uneventful, and they reined in at Antoine’s little cabin just as dusk was turning into full darkness.
“You must stay the night with us.” Antoine spoke to Joseph as he dismounted.
“Of course.” She offered Joseph a hopeful smile as she handed over her reins. The men would be cold and hungry, so her time would be better spent starting a fire than unsaddling her horse. This time, at least.
“I suppose so. If it’s not too much trouble.”
The flutters in her middle took flight again at the thought of a few more hours with Joseph.
THE NEXT MORNING, JOSEPH couldn’t get his nerves to settle. He’d planned to take Monti out for a ride as soon as the day warmed, to ask the question burning in his chest.
But maybe he was crazy. What right did he have to ask a woman like her to shackle herself to a cripple like him?
With the worry dogging him, he rose early and went out to hunt for breakfast. Monti seemed happy as a puppy let out to play when he handed her the fresh meat an hour later, and it was only her gentle smiles through the morning meal that calmed the knot in his belly.
As soon as he could, he excused himself and stepped out for a bit of a walk in the chilly air. He had to recover some of the certainty he’d felt the morning before. It was time for that talk with God he’d promised he’d do each day. In truth, something inside him yearned for it.
The snow-covered landscape still looked new and clean from the fresh coat of white that had fallen two days before. Had it only been two days since he’d accompanied Monti to visit his sister? His emotions had been so unsettled then. Happiness that Monti didn’t seem bothered by his useless hand. Yet, a part of him had felt like there was something still missing.
He’d discovered the missing part.
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