The Courageous Brides Collection

by Johnnie Alexander, Michelle Griep, Eileen Key, Debby Lee, Rose Allen McCauley, Donita Kathleen Paul, Jennifer Uhlarik, Jenness Walker, Renee Yancy

  Toby rounded the grove of trees, and Joel’s farm came into view.

  “You’ve made this trip quite a few times in the past twenty-four hours,” she said.

  “I haven’t minded.”

  “I’m grateful for it.” She took a deep breath, gathering the courage she needed. If she didn’t ask him now, before they rode past his place, it’d be too late. She gazed at him, taken with the scraggly appeal of his profile.

  “Joel?”

  “Hm?”

  “I need a favor.”

  Surprised and curious, Joel glanced at her. She averted her gaze, looking everywhere but at him.

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I need to borrow your horse.”

  More than curiosity twanged at him. “You want to borrow Toby? Why?”

  “Actually I hoped you’d lend me Buttermilk. Could we stop at your farm? Please?”

  “I thought you wanted to go to the camp.”

  “I do. But there’s somewhere else I need to go first.”

  Flummoxed by her sudden change in plans, he hardly knew what to think. “Where?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll only try to stop me.”

  The scene at the lumber mill that morning flashed through his mind.

  “I’m not Benjamin,” he said, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

  “No, you’re not.” She bent her head, the gesture fragile and sad. “But you probably won’t approve.”

  A sudden flash of insight revealed her plan as surely as if she’d laid it out for him.

  “You want to go to the Ponca village.”

  She nodded.

  “To find White Buffalo Girl’s doll?”

  “If I can.”

  “Marcy—”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of that might bring Moon Hawk some comfort. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is.” He slowly shook his head. “But to ride to the village? In this weather? It’ll take two hours, maybe three, to get there and back.”

  He might as well have stayed quiet.

  “I have a china doll that belonged to my ma,” Marcy said. “It means the world to me, especially since I don’t have her.”

  “I understand that.”

  “I was looking at it earlier. Couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her painted face. That’s when it came to me. I have to do this.”

  “But—”

  She twisted on the bench. “Doesn’t Sadie have a favorite toy?”

  “You mean besides that silly old rabbit?”

  “Doesn’t she?”

  “She sleeps with a doll.” A raggedy one that’d been hugged so often its stuffing was almost flat. “Pa got it for her shortly after she was born.”

  “If—heaven forbid it—but if something happened to Sadie, you’d want to hold on to that doll forever. Wouldn’t you?” The words tumbled toward him, quick and passionate. Another side of Marcy he hadn’t known existed.

  “Truth be told, I never thought about it.” He couldn’t think about it. They might not have the same ma, but Sadie was his little sister. The only family he had left.

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Marcy …”

  “I bet you’d even hold on to that ‘silly old rabbit.’”

  She had him there. He accepted his defeat with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I would.”

  “I need to do this, Joel. Please. May I take Buttermilk?”

  “On one condition.”

  Her face lit up as if he’d promised her the moon. Something he wished he could do.

  “Anything,” she gushed.

  “I’m going with you.”

  Shyness touched her smile. “I’d appreciate that. Very much.”

  He allowed Toby to follow the road to the farm instead of going past it to the army camp.

  “Does your pa know about this?” he asked.

  “I left a note. I asked him to be sure Sadie was looked after, too.”

  Joel didn’t know whether to be taken aback by her presumption or proud of her for thinking ahead. Pride won, but he pretended to glare at her. “How’d you know I’d agree to your crazy plan?”

  “No harm done if you didn’t. Pa would have just been surprised to see you, that’s all.” She picked at her skirt then met his gaze. “But somehow I knew you would. I prayed…so hard.”

  Joel covered her hand with his and gazed toward the skies. “Won’t be long before those clouds open up again. Guess we better saddle up.”

  Chapter Eight

  I’ll open the door,” Marcy said as Joel halted Toby in front of the barn. Before Joel could stop her, she climbed down from the wagon and pushed open the large door. Toby immediately pulled the wagon inside.

  As soon as Joel set the brake, Marcy retrieved her bundle from beneath the wagon seat.

  “I can put that in a saddle bag,” Joel offered. “We can drop it off on the way.”

  “It’s not just food.” Suddenly embarrassed, she shifted from one foot to the other, willing him to read her mind. But he just stared at her, pulling her into the depths of his warm brown eyes. A place she wanted to go more than she cared to admit.

  “I need to change clothes,” she finally said. “You know. So I can ride.”

  The corners of his mouth curved slightly upward, and he tilted his head in the direction of the house. “Use Sadie’s room. I’ll be in soon.”

  “Thank you.” She hitched up her skirt and scurried out the barn door.

  Inside the house, she halted. In the main room, a few chairs surrounded a large stone fireplace. A table and cookstove stood opposite. A surprisingly tidy and masculine room. Through an open doorway, a colorful quilt covered a bed pushed against the window. Probably Sadie’s.

  Marcy glanced at the other door in the room—the closed one. It’d only take a second to peek inside.

  But sure as shootin’, if she snooped, Joel would catch her.

  She entered Sadie’s room, smiling at the rag doll propped on the pillow. A beloved toy no little girl should have to leave behind.

  Joel put together two bedrolls to tie behind the horses’ saddles. Hopefully they wouldn’t be needed, but he liked to be prepared. He’d already stashed food and a skillet in the saddlebags and scrounged up a slicker for Marcy to wear.

  Sadie’s door opened, and Marcy entered the room. She wore a flannel shirt—probably her pa’s—over a pair of denim dungarees. Her hair was pulled back into one long braid.

  “Aren’t you a sight,” he said.

  “I wear these sometimes when Pa needs help at the mill. Not nearly as cumbersome as a dress.” She seemed ill at ease, as if unsure what to do or to say.

  He snorted to himself. No wonder. He could guess Benjamin Hollingsworth’s response to Marcy’s unladylike attire. She was probably thinking the same thing.

  “You look fine,” he said. “Just fine.”

  Gratefulness shone in her eyes. “You’re a good man, Joel Ellison. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it.”

  “It’s not too late, is it?”

  She gave a deliberate shrug, and a tiny dimple appeared in one cheek.

  He picked up the slicker and handed it to her. “We need to get going or we’ll never get back.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Do you have a hat?”

  “Just my bonnet.”

  “Hold on a minute.” He entered his room and grabbed his good hat—the one he wore on Sundays. It wouldn’t be his good hat after today, but that couldn’t be helped. After returning to the main room, he playfully rested it on Marcy’s head. “How’s that?”

  Her blue eyes sparkled beneath the brim. “I think it’s ‘just fine,’” she teased.

  “Then we best get going.”

  He handed her the bedrolls, threw the saddlebag over his shoulder, and hefted his rifle. He didn’t expect to need it, but only a fool rode out to the prairie without a weapon. Besides, they might cross paths with a deer. The Ponca coul
d use the meat.

  They finished readying the horses; then Joel led them from the barn. He cast another wary eye at the dark clouds.

  “I don’t like the look of that sky,” he said.

  Marcy held his hat in place while she looked upward. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”

  For the first time, he heard a tremor of doubt in her voice.

  “Come here,” he said softly.

  She joined him, and he gestured for her to put her foot in the stirrup. As soon as she was astride Buttermilk, he placed his hand over hers. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll make it.” He forced a reassuring smile and mounted Toby. Help us make it, Lord.

  Marcy trailed slightly behind Joel as he headed north toward the Niobrara River. She didn’t want to think about how swollen the river might be, or how they would get to the other side where the Ponca village was located. They just had to—that’s all. Somehow they had to.

  For Moon Hawk’s sake.

  She glanced in the direction of the army camp and pulled up short. On this side of the camp stood a black buggy. Benjamin’s buggy.

  As she stared, Benjamin stood and waved his arms. Despite the distance, there was no mistaking his message. The men’s clothing hadn’t hidden her identity, and he wanted her to join him.

  She wheeled Buttermilk back toward Joel, who stared at Benjamin.

  “Hollingsworth?” he asked as she pulled beside him.

  “I’m not going back with him.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “He said he’d ruin Pa. That no one would order anything from him again.”

  “I will.”

  A smile tugged at her lips, but she quivered inside.

  “Other people will, too,” Joel said. “Hollingsworth may think he and his family run the town, but they don’t. That was pretty obvious when you look at who showed up for the funeral this morning.”

  “You’re right.” She glanced from him back to the buggy. Benjamin was driving it their way. “He’s coming.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  The verse she’d prayed this morning resounded in her heart. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

  She needed strength now. Strength to do what she needed to do. Strength to be her own person instead of Benjamin’s prize possession.

  “I’m going to the village.” She left the rest unsaid.

  As long as you come with me.

  “What about him?” Joel asked, tilting his head toward the approaching buggy.

  “I don’t want to hear anything he has to say,” Marcy replied. “Do you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She wheeled Buttermilk around and urged her into a gallop.

  Joel waited two heartbeats, long enough to see the buggy sway as it picked up speed. If Hollingsworth weren’t careful, he’d capsize on the uneven ground. Something Joel wouldn’t mind seeing some other time. He turned Toby’s head and raced after Marcy.

  They ran for a couple of miles; then Joel slowed to a walk and looked behind him. The buggy no longer followed them. Marcy drew up beside him.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” she asked.

  “Regretting he’s not on horseback.”

  Marcy patted Buttermilk’s neck. “He still wouldn’t have caught us.”

  Joel smiled at her faith in the mare’s speed then frowned. Hollingsworth no longer pursued them, but that only delayed their confrontation. Once they returned, Joel had no doubt he’d have to defend his actions.

  And not only to Benjamin.

  “Your pa is liable to tan my hide when we get back. Can’t say I’d blame him.”

  “I won’t let him.”

  “You think he’ll ban me from your presence?”

  “Never.”

  “I hope you’re right.” If Marcy meant what she said about not wanting to be with Hollingsworth anymore, then Joel intended to court her.

  They eased into a walk, directing the horses across the prairie in companionable silence. Joel soon realized they were riding parallel to the path the Ponca had made a couple of days before. The wet ground had been churned by feet and hooves, a rough and muddy testament to the forced march.

  Every few moments, Joel glanced toward Marcy. She had the slicker buttoned up to her throat, and her face was barely visible beneath the too-large hat. Whatever her thoughts, she held them deep inside where no one could see.

  Perhaps the hardship of this trip was more than she expected. She’d been so focused on Moon Hawk’s grief she probably hadn’t considered how miserable it’d be to ride all the way to the village in this weather.

  For quite a while, rain had been spitting on them. Just enough to be bothersome. But he suspected the skies to open up any minute. They’d need to find shelter when it did.

  He directed Toby across the trail created by the army and the Ponca, then headed slightly west. A few moments later, Marcy sidled closer to him.

  “Shouldn’t we be going this way?” She pointed toward the swath of muddied ruts.

  “With all this rain, the crossing near the village will be too dangerous. I know a safer place a few miles from there.”

  “But it’ll take us longer.”

  “We won’t get there at all if we can’t get across the Niobrara.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least try?”

  “What you want to do is a good thing, Marcy. I’m proud to help you do it. But I’m not risking your life for a toy.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Then I’m not risking my horses.”

  The stubborn set of her jaw lessened. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

  They rode in silence for several minutes. Suddenly lightning ripped apart the sky, and Buttermilk reared. Marcy held her seat and tightened her grip on the reins.

  “Easy, girl,” she said. “Easy.”

  Thunder rumbled, pushing heavy clouds their way. Buttermilk whinnied as she high-stepped and flung her head. Joel maneuvered Toby close to the mare and grabbed the reins near the bit.

  “Whoa, there.”

  Buttermilk quickly settled at the sound of his voice, though her ears remained flattened.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Marcy. She nodded, but anxiety showed in her eyes. “I can lead her.”

  Marcy flashed an uneasy smile. But before she could answer, the clouds descended upon them. Rain poured over the brim of his hat, momentarily obscuring his vision. Marcy bent her head against the drenching deluge. He tried to search through the downpour for cover, though the plains offered little shelter. They needed to get across the river.

  “There’s an old trapper’s cabin not far from here,” he shouted above the din.

  “We can’t stop.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” Lightning flashed, and Buttermilk reared again. Marcy gasped but managed to keep her balance.

  Joel took Marcy’s reins and maneuvered the horses alongside each other. He held out his arm. “Come here.”

  She hesitated then reached for him. He pulled her close, holding her tight as she slid from Buttermilk’s back. Their eyes met, and the world seemed to fade away. The storm, the vast plains, the sodden ground—for one unforgettable moment, none of it mattered. Rain clung to her hair, to her thick lashes, and she had never looked more beautiful. He longed to kiss her, but he didn’t dare. Like it or not, at least for now, Benjamin Hollingsworth was still her beau.

  He settled her in front of him and touched his heels to Toby’s flanks.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time they reached the river, the rain had lessened. Marcy silently prayed as Joel rode along the water’s edge and scouted for the best place to cross. The Isaiah passage had become her mantra. Give power to the faint, Lord. Increase my strength.

  “It’s not as deep here,” he said. “But it’s wider because of all the rain.”

  “I’m not afraid.” To her surprise, the words wer
e true.

  When Buttermilk reared, Marcy’s insides had been as queasy as churned-up cream. But she’d been even more afraid Joel would head back to Neligh, and they’d come too far to return empty-handed.

  But her fear had melted away as they rode together toward the river. Though the rain battered them, she felt secure with his strong arms around her. His closeness comforted her and kindled an unfamiliar warmth she found perturbing yet exciting.

  The memory of him taking her from Buttermilk, of clasping her to his chest, made her breathless. She thought he might kiss her. She wanted to kiss him.

  She still wanted to kiss him.

  As if he’d read her mind, Joel leaned forward. “This looks like a good place.”

  She slightly turned toward him, and his breath warmed her ear.

  “We might get wet,” he said.

  “Wetter than we already are?”

  “River water’s not the same as rainwater.” He gave Buttermilk additional slack. “Hang on. Here we go.”

  Toby reluctantly waded into the water. Marcy focused on the opposite bank, squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again. The river soon lapped at her boots then her pant legs. But under Joel’s firm-but-gentle guidance, Toby never floundered.

  “You were right about a different kind of wet,” Marcy said. The dungarees seemed to wick the river water straight to her waist.

  “We’ll be at the cabin in just a couple of minutes.”

  “Please don’t stop because of me. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure you are. But these horses need a rest.”

  She nodded agreement, but then a thought struck her. “This is the second time you’ve used the horses as an excuse to get your way.”

  He chuckled. “Not an excuse. A reason.”

  “I just wanted you to know I noticed.”

  “ ‘A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.’”

  “Is that scripture?”

  “Proverbs 12:10.”

  “Why do you know that?”

  “Pa used to say it when I was a boy and wanted to go fishing instead of tending the stock. I guess it stuck with me.”

  They neared the bank, and Toby picked up his pace.

  “He also said to never trust a man who didn’t take care of his horse before he took care of himself.”