“Did they believe you, Uncle James?”
Kurt nodded at his older brother’s question.
“Not at first. And they were mighty angry. But Willis here, along with Stanton, who’s still in town, helped me to convince them otherwise.”
“Did you have to shoot any of ’em?” Kurt’s eyes went to the pistol at his uncle’s hip.
Elizabeth could tell McPherson was tempted to smile.
“No. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.” But the discreet glance McPherson sent his sister said it almost had.
A dull thud sounded on the front porch. McPherson left, then returned moments later. “Would you come with me please, Miss Westbrook?”
Elizabeth grabbed her coat.
He led her to the barn, where Dr. Brookston stood waiting in the shadows. “Did it work, Sheriff?”
“I think so. Nobody followed us. We doubled back twice to be sure. Stanton will keep watch in town through the night.” McPherson peered into the darkness behind him. “How is he?”
“I don’t think I’ve seen a tougher man. He fared the trip well enough, but it’s cold. We need to get him inside.”
Elizabeth followed them to a stall where Daniel was kneeling over Josiah, with Beau close beside them. Josiah looked surprisingly warm to her, wrapped in a fur of some sort with only his face showing. The men carried him into the house and situated him on blankets and cushions spread out before the fireplace. The boys were nowhere to be seen.
McPherson introduced Brookston and Rachel. Rachel greeted the doctor warmly but didn’t so much as look at Daniel. Not even a cursory glance. Daniel’s manner didn’t reflect it, but Elizabeth sensed his unease.
Dr. Brookston opened his medical bag and peeled back the blanket of fur from Josiah’s upper body. He pressed the stethoscope against Josiah’s chest. “I administered a healthy dose of laudanum to Mr. Birch before we left, so he’ll probably sleep for a while.”
Elizabeth settled beside him on the floor. “How did you get out of town without being seen? Last I saw, a crowd was gathering out front of your clinic.”
“Turns out the building my clinic occupies wasn’t constructed with the finest workmanship.” Dr. Brookston looked at Daniel. “Ranslett here noticed some loose floorboards when he was there earlier and made quick work of them tonight. He lowered Josiah through the floor while the sheriff and his deputies kept the crowd occupied out front. Of course, now I need a carpenter.”
The men kidded Daniel about needing to fix what he’d broken. Daniel offered a timid smile but no further explanation. Watching him, Elizabeth felt an unexpected flush of pride.
“Mama, who is it?”
Mitchell and Kurt peered around the corner, and in unison, they yelled, running full out, “Uncle Daniel!”
Daniel dropped to one knee and grabbed them both in fierce hugs. The boys’ momentum nearly sent him falling backward, but he managed to keep his balance.
“We haven’t seen you in a long time!” “Do you still have your dog?” “Have you been huntin’ again?” “Where’s Beau?” “Did you bring us any claws this time?”
Daniel tousled a red mop of hair with each hand, smiling. The boys tried to duck and get away but weren’t fast enough. Beau joined in the fray as Daniel caught Mitchell and flipped him up over his right shoulder, then grabbed Kurt and carried him around like a sack of potatoes. Laughter filled the room.
Elizabeth sat speechless at seeing this side of Daniel. Grinning, she looked at Rachel, expecting to see joy—but discovered tears instead. Rachel met her gaze, then quickly bowed her head and left the room. Daniel’s own smile faded as he watched her go.
Elizabeth looked between the two of them, wondering at their history, and her first inclination was toward the romantic. Rachel Boyd was mesmerizing. What man wouldn’t be attracted to her . . . And they had grown up together.
At James’s insistence, Daniel took his bed, and Rachel insisted Elizabeth share with her. Josiah awoke briefly and ate some broth before slipping back into sleep, and the other men made pallets on the floor.
Elizabeth finished her tea in the kitchen and quietly crept into Rachel’s room, uncertain whether Rachel was already asleep or not. As she pulled the covers up around her, Rachel stirred, and Elizabeth heard a muffled cry.
“Rachel,” she whispered after a moment, staring into the darkness. “Are you all right?”
An unsteady breath. “No . . .”
Elizabeth tensed, not knowing what to do. She kept her voice hushed. “Do you want me to go get James?”
“No . . .” A hiccupped sob. “I want that man out of my house.”
Josiah . . . She hadn’t considered the fact that just because McPherson was accepting of Negroes, Rachel might not be. “I’m sorry, but he was injured and there was—”
“No, not Mr. Birch.” She sniffed. “Daniel Ranslett.”
Daniel? She thought of him lying in the bed just beyond the wall beside her. “I . . . I don’t understand. Why is it not all right for him to be here?”
Darkness stretched the seconds taut, and Rachel exhaled a shaky breath. “Because he killed my husband.”
30
Elizabeth awakened to hushed voices beyond the bedroom door. Yawning, she sat up, blinking, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness while she gained her bearings. Her bandaged hand was sore but not as much as yesterday, and a slight throb pulsed in her temples. The voices grew more distinct.
“You know what you did! We both know what you did!”
“Rachel, you have no right to speak to him that—”
“Thomas is dead, James!” A sob cut short. “And he’s the reason for it!”
“Lower your voice. . . . The boys are going to hear you.”
Recognizing McPherson’s commanding tone, Elizabeth rose and padded to the closed door. The voices fell silent, but even with the door separating them, she felt the tension. The conversation wasn’t hard to follow remembering the last thing Rachel had said to her last night. The floor’s chill seeped through her socks, and Elizabeth glanced at the window. Still dark outside. Despite having had tea late last night, she craved another cup.
With painstaking care, she turned the knob and opened the door inch by inch, wincing in anticipation of a squeak.
“I’m sorry for what happened, Rachel. I know that doesn’t change a thing, but if I could go back and have a second chance to—”
“My husband wanted his sons to be proud of him. That’s all, Danny. Do you know that? That’s why he went out there that day.”
“Thomas asked me to take him bear hunting, Rachel. To show him what to do. So I did. I had no idea he would try and go out on his own like that. I told him I’d go with him, anytime. All he had to do was—”
Elizabeth heard a hard slap.
“How dare you make this out to be Thomas’s fault! If you hadn’t filled the boys’ heads with tales of tracking and hunting, this wouldn’t have—”
“Rachel!” McPherson’s hushed tone was harsh. “You’re out of line. You know better than anyone that when Thomas got it into his mind to do something, nothing could change it. You miss Thomas. . . .” His voice softened, and Elizabeth could imagine his expression doing the same. “We all do. But trying to blame this on Danny is wrong, and you know better. They need to get on the trail, so I want you to . . .”
Soft crying masked whatever else McPherson said, and Elizabeth closed the door, feeling guilty for having eavesdropped, while also grateful to finally know what had happened between Daniel and Rachel, painful as it was.
A knock sounded, and she opened the door again.
Daniel slowly raised his head. “Morning . . .”
“Morning, Daniel.” She didn’t ask how he was. The droop of his shoulders, and what she’d overheard, told her well enough.
“We leave in an hour, at sunup. Josiah insists he can travel, and Doc Brookston says he thinks he can make it, stubborn as he is.” A smile colored his tone, though none touched his face.
<
br /> “I’ll be ready.” She started to close the door but paused when he made no move to leave.
He sighed, and the words seemed to come hard for him. “Something else . . . before we set out. I want you to know that I’ll do my best to get you to Mesa Verde . . . so you can meet this deadline of yours. But if either of you shows signs of not being able to make it, I’ll turn back. Not out of spite and not because I disagreed at first with you making this trip, but because I won’t risk anything happening to you—to either of you. Are we clear on that?”
She nodded once. “Perfectly.”
“I’ll go load up.”
She penned a hurried letter to her father, telling him she was fine but preoccupied with settling in and with her “new job.” And that she might be too busy to write for a while. James agreed to mail the letter for her. She would write her father again when they reached Mesa Verde, so he wouldn’t worry over not hearing from her.
An hour later they were saddled and ready to embark. Dingy clouds filtered the pale sunlight, and a feathery, persistent snow drifted down, adding to the night’s accumulation. Daniel gripped the reins of the two packhorses. She’d offered to lead one, but he had declined in a tone that left no room for negotiation. For now, at least.
She looked at Josiah beside her, concerned, despite Brookston’s permission for him to travel. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
“Sure I am, ma’am. Like I said at breakfast, I wouldn’t be missin’ this for the world, Miz Westbrook. And I do fine. Won’t be no problem for Mr. Ranslett, or for you. I give you my word on that.”
“If there’s one thing you could never be, Josiah, it’s a problem to me. Thank you . . . for doing this.”
His smile stretched wide. He’d eaten a hearty breakfast, and Doc Brookston had assured her his injuries weren’t life threatening. She’d overheard Brookston telling Daniel that stopping early for the first few days would be best, to ensure Josiah got enough rest.
McPherson fingered a strand of leather hanging from the bridle of Daniel’s horse. “Send word when you get there. And along the way, if you can.”
Daniel nodded. “We will.”
“And remember what I said to you . . . earlier.”
Daniel dodged his gaze. “I will.” Then he glanced back at the house. “Tell the boys I’ll bring them each a—” His eyes narrowed. “Just tell them I said to be good for their mother.”
The cabin door opened, and as if on cue, the boys ran out, coats half buttoned, boot laces trailing. Rachel stood inside watching, arms clutched over her chest.
“Uncle Daniel!”
“You almost left without seein’ us!”
Mitchell reached him first, but Kurt was fast on his heels. Daniel jumped down and caught them both in a fierce hug. He kissed their foreheads.
“Will you bring us back a bear claw?” Kurt’s eyes went wide.
“Or maybe one from a mountain lion?” Mitchell’s expression said he clearly thought his idea outweighed his younger brother’s.
“I’ll bring something back for both of you, but only if you promise to be good . . . and to help your mother.”
“We will, Uncle Daniel.”
“Uh-huh, we will.”
Mitchell approached Josiah’s horse. “Me and my brother, we’ll take care of Moonshine for you, sir.”
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Mitchell.” Josiah touched the rim of his hat. “He too old to be goin’ on a trip like this. He do better stayin’ here with you.”
Daniel tousled the boys’ hair before climbing into the saddle again. Turning to McPherson, he whispered something low, then gave a sharp whistle that brought Beau running. Daniel glanced back and Elizabeth read his unspoken question. She nodded, sensing his apprehension and excitement, and sharing them both.
He formed the lead with the two packhorses, and she followed him with Josiah behind. At the end of the road, she turned back to see McPherson’s hand raised in farewell, and Rachel’s covering her heart.
The morning passed with little conversation other than Daniel’s occasional warning of icy spots on the trail, which suited Elizabeth fine. She used the time to sort out the jumble of emotions inside her. Was she prepared for this? What would she do if her efforts for the position at the Chronicle weren’t enough?
The morning breeze gave way to an afternoon wind that blew frigid against them the higher they rode. Beau’s energetic romp finally slowed, and Daniel stopped, brushed him clean of snow, and put him in a pouch on the side of his saddle. It looked like it had been made especially for him. Beau poked his head out the top, contented as could be, and Elizabeth could tell they’d traveled this way before.
A tremor worked its way through her and she shuddered. Not traveling with camera equipment meant faster progress, both from the standpoint of ease in transporting the load and also from not stopping to capture images. But if she got to Mesa Verde and her new equipment wasn’t waiting, the trip would have been made in vain. She simply had to trust that the freighter Daniel had hired would prove reliable.
A fork emerged in the trail and Daniel chose left. Every instinct within her told her the other way was correct.
She read the dingy sky, trying to decipher the sun’s position. “Are you sure this is the way to the pass?”
The pace slowed. Daniel stopped and turned in the saddle. “Yes, ma’am, this is the way to the pass. Unless you carved out another one during the night.” His manner not inviting a response, he faced forward and continued up the trail.
Elizabeth prodded her horse but glanced behind her at Josiah, expecting commiseration, but instead got a look that said, “That’s what you get for asking.”
The snow grew deeper the farther they climbed, until it finally reached the horses’ knees. She hoped Daniel would stop soon for lunch and build a fire. Not only was she cold but she wanted a cup of tea. Her nerves were on edge and a cup would bring the calm she needed.
They continued on up the mountain, the swathe of white-billowed sky narrowing above them as sheer rock walls rose higher on either side. Daniel reined in. He studied the cliffs above, then dismounted and tied the packhorses to a branch.
“The pass is just ahead.” Voice quiet, he eyed the highest point on the walls. “You both stay here. I’m going to ride ahead a short ways. Now would be a good time to eat lunch, if you’re hungry. Be sure and drink your water, whether you’re thirsty or not. Your body needs it for the altitude. No time for a fire. We need to get through the pass and get another four or five miles behind us before making camp for the night.” He looked at her. “You warm enough?”
Frustrated about not being able to fix her tea, Elizabeth nodded, lying. She was frozen to the bone but wasn’t about to complain. Not after she’d made such a point of telling him yesterday while at the general store that she had the latest in travel gear for her and Josiah—the warmest coats, boots, and wraps available. Apparently the New York manufacturer hadn’t field-tested their apparel in the Rockies. Even with the gloves Daniel had recommended, her fingers ached with cold.
He looked back at Josiah. “You warm enough?”
“Yes, sir, this fur’s right toasty, thank you.” Daniel and Dr. Brookston had wrapped a bearskin around Josiah once he was saddled, tucking it around his legs for added protection from the wind and snow. Elizabeth was envious of his warmth.
Daniel rubbed Beau’s neck before climbing into the saddle.
She flexed the fingers on her left hand for warmth, hardly able to feel them. It especially hurt to flex her right, with the bandage. “If you want, just call back to us if the pass is clear and we’ll ride on through. No sense in you riding all the way back.” Or in them sitting waiting and her freezing to death.
A gleam lit Daniel’s green eyes as though she’d said something amusing. “I’d suggest you not call out anything while I go through there . . . unless you want to come back and dig me and Beau out midsummer.” He winked at her. “And if you don’t mind, get any sneezing done before I
start through there too.”
Feeling completely incompetent, and knowing she appeared that way, Elizabeth studied the layers of snow cascading over the peaks.
“Watch the wind patterns.” Daniel’s tone was attentive, but not in the least patronizing. “See how it swoops down over and through the pass. The wind lays the snow flake by flake on the edge of the mountain, creating a kind of shelf. Only there’s nothing to support it from beneath. It’s frozen during the winter so it doesn’t carry the same danger then. But when warmer weather comes and the layers melt and refreeze, melt and refreeze, it weakens the—”
“Structure of the shelf. Yes, thank you, Daniel. I understand.” Her tone came out more sweet sounding than she’d intended. She wasn’t angry as much as she was embarrassed. She’d assumed those were rock ledges where the snow had settled but should have known better. “That was foolish of me. I’m sorry.” The admittance didn’t gall her as much as her lapse in memory did. She’d read about avalanches and had even seen pictures of the aftermath.
Daniel held her gaze for longer than necessary, and then his focus drifted upward to her forehead. “No need to get angry, Elizabeth. I just wanted to make sure you understood.”
“I’m not angry, Daniel.”
His expression said he begged to differ, and she gradually realized what he was looking at. The blasted vein on her forehead!
Tossing her a smile, he rode slowly down the path and disappeared around the bend.
“You sure you warm enough, Miz Westbrook?” Josiah whispered from behind her.
Elizabeth found herself not wanting to turn for fear her saddle would squeak and kill them all. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You needs to tell him if you’s cold, ma’am.” He kept his voice hushed. “He gots another one of them furs packed in the back. He get it out for you if you just ask him.”
“I’ll be fine once we’re moving again. Don’t worry about me.” She was glad when he didn’t say anything else. She reached behind her into her saddlebag and her hand brushed against the bottle of syrup. She withdrew it, then looked back at Josiah, who was eating a cold biscuit stuffed with sausage, compliments of Rachel, and studying the rock ledges overhead.
Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] Page 26