Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01]

by From a Distance

  The image of her still lingered.

  So he started composing a letter in his mind; one he would send to Congress if she agreed to help him in his endeavor by supplying pictures of the territory. If Congress could only see this land, Mesa Verde in particular, they would understand and agree that it needed protection from individuals and companies who sought to exploit it. The possibility of success renewed his hope, and after penning the letter four times in his mind, sleep finally came.

  He awakened again sometime later and rose on one elbow. Faint light from a gray dawn filtered in through the mouth of the cave. He needed to get up. He looked down at Elizabeth sleeping beside him and ached to touch her again, knowing he couldn’t. She was so beauti—

  “Mornin’, Mr. Ranslett, sir.”

  Daniel’s pulse shot up. Josiah was awake and staring straight at him. At them both.

  Daniel easily read his thoughts and shook his head. “She got cold. I shared my bearskin with her . . . and that’s all.” How odd it felt to be explaining himself to a Negro, and yet he felt the need to.

  Josiah didn’t say anything for a minute, then finally nodded. But he didn’t go back to sleep. And Daniel still felt his watchful eye when he returned from feeding and watering the horses a while later.

  Elizabeth was awake and boiling water in a pot, apparently for her tea. She wore a scowl around her eyes.

  Daniel squatted down beside her and added more wood to the fire. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, Daniel.” Her smile resembled an afterthought, and she rubbed her temples.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  She glanced briefly at Josiah. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  “How’re you feeling?”

  She winced. “Well enough, except for this headache. The tea always helps.”

  He hadn’t thought anything about her drinking the tea, at first. But as he’d been with her in recent days and saw her drinking it morning, noon, and night, he’d begun to wonder. It wasn’t the tea that concerned him so much—his mother had adhered to herbal remedies—but rather what Elizabeth added to it that concerned him.

  When she finished adding the syrup to her cup, he motioned to the bottle in her hand. “What’s that you’re putting in there?”

  “Something my doctor recommended. It’s for my lungs.”

  He nodded, not doubting that. He just wondered what was in it. “May I see it?”

  Her brow creased. She handed it to him.

  He turned the bottle over and read the brief description on the back, aware of Josiah watching them. The bottle was almost empty. He thought he remembered her opening this one at Rachel’s house, just two days ago. “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup . . . for children?”

  She took the bottle from him. “Like I said, it helps my breathing.”

  “I haven’t noticed you having any problems breathing.”

  Her look was almost comical. She dangled the bottle in front of him. “And you wonder why?”

  He stood, deciding to let it go. She was a grown woman and could make up her own mind. And would, regardless of what he said.

  As they packed and loaded the horses, Josiah remained solemn, quiet, and watchful. Daniel felt like a cowed youth, as though Elizabeth’s father were there, observing his every move.

  Drifts on the trail were deep in places, but there was little wind and the snowfall had ceased. The mountains were shrouded in white, all glistening ice and sparkle. He occasionally glanced back at Elizabeth, knowing she wished for her camera. He wished she had it too so she could take some photographs for him.

  They stopped midday for lunch and made a fire. They were making good time and the sun was out, warming the temperature. They had another pass to cross today, a shorter one, and then the next two or three days would be easier traveling. Josiah looked weary to the bone and only picked at the corn bread and bacon left from last night’s dinner. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had talked most of the morning and was having her second cup of tea, emptying the last of the bottle’s contents.

  Daniel refilled Josiah’s tin with coffee. “You feeling all right?”

  Josiah took a breath in and let it out as he spoke. “Yes, sir. I doin’ fine. Just a mite weary.” He pulled the fur tighter around his chest and stood. “I need to excuse myself for a minute, but I can keep ridin’. Don’t be thinkin’ I can’t.” He walked behind a thick stand of evergreen.

  With Elizabeth’s help, Daniel doused the fire, cleaned the lunch dishes, and repacked the supplies. From a satchel strapped to one of the packhorses, he withdrew a tin of peppermint and offered her a stick. She accepted. He broke another in half and tossed it to Beau, who chomped it in two bites. He saved one stick out for Josiah, then put the tin away, and as he did, a note sticking out drew his attention.

  Recognizing it, he handed it to her. “I meant to give this to you a couple of days ago. I stuck it in here and forgot about it.”

  She took the note from him, and as she read it, she smiled.

  The Tucker children had given it to him the day he’d been at their house. It was a letter thanking Elizabeth for the photograph she’d taken of them. They’d each signed their names, which took up nearly half the page, and someone had drawn a little squirrel in the bottom corner.

  She pointed to the squirrel. “Do you think he’s laughing? Or just smiling?”

  Daniel leaned closer to get a better look. “Actually . . . I think he’s choking.”

  She giggled and tried to punch him in the arm, but he caught her hand—the one she’d burned last night—and held it. Then, on a whim, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Once, twice. He’d never seen a woman go from laughter to shyness so quickly. He heard a twig snap and gave her hand a brief squeeze before letting go. No need in giving Josiah Birch something else to worry about.

  Later that afternoon, Daniel led the way through the second pass with Elizabeth and Josiah following. It wasn’t nearly as narrow or steep as the first one, but there was a drop-off on one side to a canyon below, so he kept toward the mountainside to be safe. They were nearly through the pass when he noticed his horse’s ears prick. The mare whinnied and one of the packhorses reared up. Beau barked from his pouch on the side.

  “Quiet, Beau . . .” Daniel searched the ridge and boulders above but saw nothing. Trusting the horse’s instincts, he reined in, gripped the tethers to the packhorses with one hand, and reached for his rifle with the other. He released the safety lever with his thumb—and saw it.

  From Elizabeth’s soft gasp, so did she.

  A black bear sauntered out onto the trail, no more than twenty feet away, and stopped. From the looks of him he was still a cub, but he was a large one. Large enough, Daniel hoped, to have left his mama behind. The cub tested his lungs and pawed the snow.

  To the left, about ten feet beyond him, a stand of evergreens swayed.

  Daniel gauged the shelves of snow overhanging the cliff above and knew that shooting would be a last resort.

  “Should we turn around?” Elizabeth whispered.

  He shook his head. The trail was too narrow. There wasn’t enough time, and he couldn’t risk their getting too close to the edge with the snow drifts. The mother bear emerged onto the trail, saw them, and let out a roar. Daniel prayed she and her baby had eaten recently, but from the way she turned to face him and ducked her head low, he doubted it.

  She charged.

  He dropped the reins to the packhorses and stood in the saddle, taking aim. He would only get one shot.

  32

  The mother bear dropped. The cub shrieked and ran. And the mountain rumbled.

  Daniel looked behind him and saw Elizabeth prodding her mount forward. With surprising agility, she grabbed hold of the reins to the first packhorse while the other took off in the opposite direction. Josiah strained for the bridle as the second animal passed him but missed.

  Daniel eyed the snow shelf above them. It started to shift. “Move out!”

  With the bear s
prawled dead in the trail, there wasn’t enough room for him to let Elizabeth or Josiah pass him first. He kicked his horse hard and prayed they followed close behind. He cleared the pass and turned back sharp to check.

  Elizabeth was nearly clear when the packhorse spooked and strained against her. Thankfully she didn’t fall off. Daniel yelled for her to leave the animal just as Josiah kicked it hard from behind and the horse took off. Daniel tried to grab the reins as the horse passed, but couldn’t. He could track him later. Elizabeth cleared the pass with Josiah just as a deafening crack sounded.

  The first snow shelf gave way.

  Daniel led them farther down the trail and reined in a safe distance away. Breathless, they all stared at each other for a moment before looking back. Snow crystals shimmered in the afternoon sun and an eerie calm gradually settled back over the mountain.

  “Are either of you hurt?”

  Josiah and Elizabeth shook their heads.

  “You done got that bear, sir, right between the eyes. She dropped before she knowed she was dead.”

  Elizabeth’s laughter came out high-pitched and stilted. “I was just praying you wouldn’t miss.”

  Daniel shuddered inside thinking of how differently things could have turned out. “You both did well. Real well.” He glanced behind him. “I need to find that packhorse and see what supplies we have left.”

  Josiah motioned. “That other one make it out, sir?”

  Daniel nodded. “But I’m afraid he took most of our provisions with him.”

  An hour later, Daniel returned to camp with the horse. As he’d suspected, the majority of their food stores were gone, but at least they had their second bearskin, some coffee, and enough hardtack and jerky to get them by for a couple of days, giving him time to hunt. He’d learned young not to pack all the food on one animal.

  Josiah had built a fire, and it burned strong and hot, giving off little smoke. Josiah sat huddled beside it with his fur wrapped close about his broad shoulders, shivering. His brow glistened with sweat. Elizabeth pressed a cloth against his forehead and gave Daniel a look.

  Daniel put a hand on his shoulder. “How long have you had fever?”

  “Since sometime this mornin’, sir. But I be fine. I can ride. I won’t slow you down none.”

  “I’m not worried about you slowing us down, Josiah. Where do you hurt?”

  “All over, sir.”

  Elizabeth knelt beside him. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  Josiah closed his eyes. “No need to, ma’am. Nothin’ to be done. Just need to let this work its way outta me.”

  Daniel calculated where they were. No cave that he knew of for another seven miles or so, and it would be dark soon. The sky was clear blue, which meant the temperatures would be bitter, but at least there was no snow or wind, for now. “We’ll camp here for the night. Josiah, you get some rest.”

  Saying nothing, Josiah lay down, cocooned in the bearskin.

  It wasn’t until Elizabeth started searching the packs, that Daniel realized what else was missing. She looked at him, then quickly looked away again.

  He nodded to her saddlebags. “Do you have any more with you?”

  “I meant to get another bottle out at lunch, but I forgot.” She mustered a brave look. “I think you said we wouldn’t pass another settlement for . . . two weeks. Is that right?” The way she asked it, she already knew his answer.

  “And it’ll just be a mining camp. They don’t carry much in the way of medicine.”

  She said nothing, and he watched her bravery slip a notch.

  She boiled a piece of jerky in melted snow and spoon-fed the weak broth to Josiah, who ate little before falling back into a restless sleep.

  Daniel watched her throughout the evening, waiting for the signs, praying he was wrong. But by the time she lay down for the night, he knew he wasn’t.

  The hot and cold flashes started, mild at first, followed by stomach cramps during the night and the muscle spasms he remembered so well. What little she’d eaten for dinner, her body rejected, and he held her as she alternately shook and perspired. He also checked on Josiah, who was burning up. Cold compresses helped, but the man needed a doctor.

  Dawn came, and a wheezing started deep in Elizabeth’s lungs and slowly grew more pronounced. Finally, midmorning, exhaustion claimed her.

  Just before noon, she stirred. “Am I . . . going to die?” she whispered.

  He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “No, you’re not going to die.” But before her ordeal was through, she would wish she could. “It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I’ll be here to help you.”

  Her legs jerked beneath the bearskin, and she pulled them up against her chest. “Did you . . . know?” Her teeth chattered but not from the cold.

  Her question was like a hot poker to his gut. He clenched his jaw. “I suspected it. But I wasn’t sure.” She wrapped her arms around her abdomen and closed her eyes.

  By late afternoon, Daniel knew he had no choice. He awakened them both. “We’ve got to find help. I can’t leave you here, so you’re both going to have to ride.” He decided not to tell them how far they might need to travel. In their state, it would feel like a death sentence.

  They broke camp and he helped Josiah onto his horse.

  Josiah bent forward, barely holding on to the reins. “My bell . . . I gots to get to . . . my bell . . .”

  Daniel had no idea what he was talking about. “Don’t you worry about the bell. I’ll get it for you.”

  Josiah nodded, seeming comforted.

  Daniel brought his own horse around and lifted Elizabeth into the saddle, unable to tell whether she understood what was happening or not. He climbed up behind her and pulled her against him. She didn’t fight anything he did.

  Travel was slow, and he kept peering through the trees on the right side of the trail, hoping and praying he was remembering it correctly. And that it was still there. He kept offering the canteen to Elizabeth and stopped to make sure Josiah was drinking as well. It was near dusk when he heard it.

  A hawk’s screech.

  He reined in and looked up. No hawk in sight. The weight inside his chest eased a fraction.

  He returned the call, and Makya stepped into a clearing a ways down the path. The Ute stretched out his arm in greeting and started toward him.

  “Wait!” Daniel raised his hand, and Makya paused. “Sickness is with me, friend. I come for medicine, and food if you can spare it. I don’t mean to bring harm to your camp.”

  Makya stared. “Do you have the sickness?”

  “No, but the dark man does. The woman is unwell, but it’s because of white man’s medicine, not a sickness.”

  “I will see them.” Makya started toward them.

  Daniel lowered Elizabeth into Makya’s arms and he laid her on the ground. She groaned and held her stomach as Makya felt her head and throat, then studied her eyes and listened to her chest.

  “She has a poison inside.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  Daniel nodded, helping Josiah off his horse. “Yes, she does. The same poison I told you about that I had years ago.”

  Josiah’s legs buckled, and it was all Daniel could do to support the man’s weight. He was heavier than he looked, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Daniel laid him down and covered him with the fur.

  Makya knelt beside him. “He smells bitter. Like death waits to visit.”

  “Do your people have medicine to help him?”

  Makya’s answer came slow. “The woman, we can help. The man, I do not know. I will go before you. Wait until I return.”

  Daniel wanted to tell him to hurry, but there was no need. Makya ran.

  33

  Sometime during the night, the eldest of Makya’s four wives delivered a clay pot with something tangy and sweet smoldering inside it, similar to burning pine needles. The warm air in the tepee grew moist and smoky, and Daniel felt the effects deep inside his lungs.
Elizabeth would have too, if she were awake.

  He lay beside her in the firelight, listening to her restless sleep and knowing what she was going through. Earlier, the shaman had insisted she drink a dark-colored concoction. Makya explained that the mixture would bring healing to her body. From her reaction, the potion had been none too pleasant tasting, and apparently had a sedating effect, because she’d been asleep ever since.

  Makya’s eldest wife returned at first light, and Daniel went to check on Josiah. He was located in a tepee pitched farther from camp, one Daniel figured was used in cases of quarantine. The shaman was there when Daniel arrived and Josiah was awake, his eyes wide and watchful of the Ute doctor, his body still racked with fever.

  Daniel stood where Josiah could see him, not wanting to interrupt whatever was underway. Beadwork and bunches of dried herbs hung from the sloped ceiling, and the shaman, chanting something, crushed a green leafy plant on a flat stone, then sprinkled the pieces into a cup of liquid and swirled it over the flame. When offered, Josiah drank it without question, just as Daniel would have done.

  Once the doctor left, Daniel moved closer.

  “Mr. Ranslett . . . glad to see you again, sir. H-how’s Miz Westbrook?”

  Daniel sat beside him, touched by what his question revealed. “She’s resting. She had a rough night and has some rough days still ahead, but she’ll be all right.”

  “What’s in that bottle that . . . done her such harm, sir?”

  “Morphine, in a syrup, that’s supposed to calm the nerves. Her doctor prescribed it, and she’s been using it for months. Once you start taking it, your body grows accustomed to it and wants more. When you refuse to oblige, your body rebels. I know because I relied on it for nearly two years, after I was wounded in the war. A friend saw what I was doing to myself and helped me stop. I’m sure I would’ve died if he hadn’t.”