“Me and Travis…can thank you…getting us outta here.”
“I haven’t gotten us out of anywhere yet. For all I know, we’re deeper in the mountains than when we started.”
Another deep shudder gripped him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his teeth chattering audibly.
Hannah pulled her fingers from his grip and pressed his palm to the soiled dressing. “Hold this.”
Once he took over, she draped two blankets over him, tucking them around his right side before folding them back to expose the wound. He was quiet but for the clacking of his teeth. She set to work.
“Chokecherries?” he asked after some time.
“Yes. Why?”
“The bark…good for fevers. Roots…good…for wounds. Bleeding, too.”
Her chest constricted at the thought of returning to the bushes.
“Take…my Sharps.” He attempted to sit up.
“Stay still.” Hannah settled a firm hand against his shoulder.
She loaded the gun and stuffed extra ammunition in her skirt pocket. Taking one of Mr. Racklin’s knives to cut branches and dig roots, she gestured for Travis to stay with Finn, then set off.
There was little time to search the ruins and gather what she needed from the chokecherry bushes. She must hurry, or she’d lose the light completely. Legs still too wobbly to run, she chose a purposeful walk, heart pounding the whole way.
Lord, I’ve had my fill of bears. Please protect me. And if You’d be so kind, we need something with which to carry and heat water.
She turned toward the burned-out structure, stomping her feet and rattling the brush as she picked her way toward it. At the edge of the remains, she stepped up to the soot-blackened fireplace and scanned the dusky area. What had once been the floor was now a tumbled-down pile of rubble. If there were time, she’d dig through the debris. Why hadn’t she discovered this place sooner?
Lord, please hold the light just a few minutes.
She hurried to the back side of the ruins. There, the trees were thicker, the shadows deeper. A light-colored tarpaulin flapped in the chill breeze, drawing her attention. She crossed to it and lifted a corner. Logs, chopped and split, as if waiting for her. Without hesitation, she pulled the tarp down and reached for several pieces. As she did, something fell with a metallic clang.
Hannah peered over the woodpile, craning to see. Hidden behind the firewood sat an ax, a pickax, and a miner’s gold pan. She grabbed the pan.
She shot a glance heavenward. This is perfect. Thank You.
With urgency, she tossed the pan and a couple of armloads of wood onto the tarp, grabbed the rifle, and dragging the tarp by its corners, headed toward the stepping-stones. The load slid over the carpet of dead leaves and pine needles easily but hung up on a large rock in the path. She stalled to free it, and in the process, kicked something buried in the leaves. The tink of glass carried to her ears.
Dropping to a knee, Hannah patted the ground. Where was it—whatever it was? She widened the search until she laid hold of cool glass and extracted a brown bottle, empty but for the dirt that had worked its way inside. Once cleaned, it could serve as a canteen of sorts.
Her chest easing with the timely finds, she tugged the tarpaulin free and hurried to her next task.
The chokecherry patch.
A frigid gust of air woke Finn. He lay still, sorting through the sounds. Crackling fire. Someone snoring softly to his left. Where was he? He inhaled deeply, and pain roared through his side. With it, memories of the crash flooded him.
He pried heavy eyelids open. Above him stood a rudimentary lean-to made of sticks and stretched tight with a wool blanket. To his left, Travis slept in a woolen cocoon. To his right, a fire blazed, heat warming the air inside the shelter. Beyond that, the sky was a hazy shade of gray, the sun trying to peek through above the hills. Tendrils of steam rose from the water’s surface, and frost covered the grass.
Finn tugged the pile of blankets around his shoulders and looked again at the lean-to. When on earth had Hannah built it? He’d been vaguely aware when she returned from the chokecherry patch the night before. He had no recollection of it then. He’d half-awakened a few times during the night when she’d fussed with his bandages, but he’d quickly dropped back to sleep.
“Hannah?” His voice thick, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hannah?”
From somewhere beyond the lean-to, a sharp intake of air broke the stillness. Footsteps crunched on the frost-laden grass. Wrapped tight in several blankets, Hannah appeared, her face drawn and eyelids drooping as if she’d just awakened. Her soft smile was genuine, a welcome sight. “You’re awake.”
He mustered a smile of his own. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s all right. It’s time I have another look at your wound.” She tugged a glove from her right hand. “The chokecherry tea seemed to help your fever. Unfortunately, darkness fell before I could dig up any roots.” She laid her hand on his forehead.
Finn jerked back from her icy touch. “Good night, woman. You’re freezing.” He wrapped her small hand between his larger ones, liking the fit of them. Alternately, he blew into his fists and rubbed the warmth into her frigid fingers. When he clasped her open palm against his bare chest to rub the back of her hand, it warmed him as much as he meant to warm her.
Hannah’s cheeks flamed, and she pulled free of his grasp. “That’s enough, thank you.” A shudder gripped her as she turned toward the crackling fire. “I’ll prepare more tea before I head back to the chokecherry patch to gather the roots.”
He tucked his arms back under the blankets and watched her. Her normally graceful movements were stiff, whether from cold or something else, he couldn’t determine. She dipped a wide, shallow bowl into the stream then squatted on the far side of the fire, every movement seeming pained. She held the bowl over the edge of the flame.
After a moment, her eyelids dipped, and she fought them open. A second time, they slid shut, and the big bowl faltered, spilling water into the fire. A sizzling cloud of steam rose, and her eyes grew wide. She jerked the bowl upright.
“You’re exhausted. How long since you slept?”
Sighing, she returned to the stream to refill the bowl.
“How long, Hannah?”
She squatted beside the fire, stirred the flames with a sturdy stick, and held the bowl over the heat.
“Hannah!”
She glared in his direction. “I don’t know. I’ve rested as I could, but someone had to stay awake and make sure the bear didn’t return—tend to your needs, and Travis.”
Finn’s chest constricted. Durn it all, but he should be the one taking care of her—soothing her fears and helping to shoulder the burdens, rather than being one. He should be helping her with Travis. Who better than him? His life had mirrored Travis’s in many ways. Travis’s ma was dead like his. The boy’s pa was a good-for-nothing drunk like his. If the kid’s bony frame was any indication, he’d experienced true hunger like Finn had all those years ago.
Lord, Travis needs a family. You were real good to let Ezra take me in after Ma’s murder. I was fortunate to have him and Sam. Now Travis needs a pa, and I’m volunteering for the job, and to be Hannah’s husband, too, iffen she’ll have me.
The prayer tumbled from his mind so suddenly, it startled him.
Get a hold of yourself, you fool. You’ve known them for a matter of days. Hardly your best days, at that. Keep in mind, your pa murdered his own wife. He roughed a hand over his stubbly jaw and tried to corral his thoughts before they rabbit-trailed too far. “We’re beholden to you, but you gotta rest, too.”
With her free hand, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, tugging it closed in front. “There’s too much to be done, and I need to do it. Look what happened when I sent Travis off alone last night.”
“Nothing’s that pressing. My fever’s down. I’m feeling stronger. Travis is sawin’ logs next to me. Rest awhile.”
Hannah shook her head. “What
about getting us out of here? We’ll freeze if it gets any colder.”
Finn tried to judge the time despite the thick gray clouds. “What is it? Couple hours past dawn? Rest awhile. We’ll still have the bulk of the day for traveling.”
“What abou—”
“Do you just like to argue?” He shook his head. “Quit being so durned bullheaded and admit you need to rest.”
Her eyes grew wide, and she drew back as if struck. In an instant, her expression shifted, hazel eyes sparking fire. She laid the bowl aside, shrugged out of the blanket, and stood. “If you think this is bullheaded, you have much to learn.” She stepped out of sight, and when she returned, she carried his Sharps. “If you need anything, wake Travis.”
His stomach knotted. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.” She stalked away.
“When you expectin’ to be back?” He craned his neck to watch her departure.
“When it suits.”
Chapter Eight
Bullheaded. Why was that the first word men used to describe her? Her fiancé, Andrew, had bandied the term during some of their more heated discussions. The memories struck the still-raw nerve, and she squeezed the rifle tighter and quickened her pace.
“Lord, I’m not, am I?” She loved imparting knowledge and could hold her own in debates on various topics. From childhood, she’d displayed an uncommon determination when she set her mind to something. Having never married, she’d learned to be independent. Did those qualities make her contrary? Not to her way of thinking. Not when balanced with her nurturing heart, her caring nature, and her sense of humor—despite the fact that the latter might have abandoned her. So why did men jump to such an assessment so quickly?
“Why do I care what that man thinks? Once we leave these mountains, it’s not likely I’ll see him again.” They’d go about their respective lives, letting this nightmare fade into their memories.
So why did that idea of forgetting all of this—of forgetting him—leave her empty?
“You must be tired if your thoughts are straying there, Hannah Rose.” A fierce shake of her head dislodged the silly thought. “Lest you forget, he has a woman with a child on the way.”
She marched toward the stepping-stones, though as soon as her foot alighted on the path, she paused. The knife. She’d left it at camp. Without it, she’d be unable to dig up chokecherry roots. For a moment, she stood, rubbing her arms to dislodge the bonejarring chill that had settled over her. She had no desire to return to the camp and face Finn’s badgering. The man was right—she was exhausted—but he had no right to call her names. Not when she’d done all this to save his life.
“Stop it. You’re letting him under your skin.” After Andrew’s betrayal, she had vowed no man would have that chance again.
Hannah glanced toward the burned-out cabin, recalling the ax and pickax beside the woodpile. They would do. She hurried to the back of the burned structure, gathered the rusted tools, and walked to the front of the ruins as the gray clouds split momentarily, allowing beams of sunlight through. The view from what must have been the front door caught her. The stream dominated the foreground, flowing down the gentle grade toward a cliff. Beyond the cliff, a panoramic view of other peaks, layer upon layer. Absolutely breathtaking. No wonder the cabin’s owner built in that spot.
Still rubbing warmth into her arms, she drank in the view before heading across the stream. After scouting for bears, she approached the chokecherry patch and stared at the nearest bush. Hopefully the roots wouldn’t be buried too deep. With her muscles already aching from the crash and constant overuse, she lacked stamina for digging deep to gather the roots Finn’s wound would require.
Starting with the pickax, she probed the ground and found a root. She made room by removing a few low branches with the ax then cleared the soil from around the root. With it exposed, she chopped the root free and dug out two more for good measure. She bundled the roots and branches in a handkerchief, gathered the tools and gun, but paused. Thoughts still churning over Finn’s hurtful remark, she wasn’t ready to return to camp.
Hannah paced to the cliff’s edge. The sound of rushing water filled her ears as the view caught her all over again. “Lord, Your handiwork never ceases to amaze me.” She faced the stream, craning her neck to view the waterfall as it crashed over the edge of the cliff onto the rocks below. A hazy mist rose as it cascaded over those rocks and fell even farther. Her smile widened. How majestic the sight must be from below.
With her eyes closed, she pictured the view, though something niggled in her thoughts. She tried to push it away, but the troubling feeling wouldn’t leave. She looked around. All was still. Only her footprints marred the frosty ground. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Was something wrong at the camp?
She turned toward the stepping-stones and peered at the camp. The fire still blazed. Other than Travis emerging from the lean-to, nothing stirred. The big draft horse stood at ease, seemingly unconcerned. Yet the sensation wouldn’t leave. Something was wrong.
“What am I missing, Lord?” Hannah turned a slow circle, sweeping her surroundings with a gaze, her eyes settling on the stream as it flowed toward the cliff. It struck her then, and her stomach churned.
“No!” She clamped a hand over her mouth and turned moist eyes toward the overcast sky. “Lord, no. Why didn’t I realize this before?” And what on earth was she to do about it?
Rapid footsteps alerted Finn to Hannah’s return. Gingerly, he craned his neck, but she came into his view only as she reached the fire and stormed past.
“Hannah, I’m sorry.” He tried to track her movements, but she stepped out of view behind the lean-to. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. “You still upset with me?”
The footsteps stilled. Silence. From his spot beside the fire, Travis darted a look between them.
“Hannah?”
“I’m upset with myself.” Her voice quavered.
Concern threaded through him. “Why?”
Silence loomed again.
The lean-to frame blocked his view, frustrating him. “Would you stand where I can see you, please?”
She appeared, Sharps in one hand, bundle of sticks in the other, and heaved a sigh. Her shoulders slumped.
“What’s wrong?”
Hannah’s face contorted. “I’ve been following the water downstream, thinking it would lead us out of the mountains.”
“Smart thinking.”
“It isn’t. The stream runs over a cliff up ahead. There’s no way we can follow it. We came all this way, and—” Before he could speak, she sunk to the ground beside him, skirt billowing around her. “We’re lost, Finn. If we’d stayed at the crash site—”
“You did what you thought was right. We’ll find our way.”
“I don’t know where to go from here.”
Somehow, he couldn’t force himself to feel the fear and frustration eating at her. “Right now, I’m more concerned about you. You need sleep. I can durn near promise you a solution will come iffen you’ll rest.”
She stared at him, a war raging in her eyes. When she drew a breath to speak, Finn silenced her with a hand.
“You’ve taken real good care of me and Travis. Let us repay the favor. He can tend the fire. I’ll keep watch for trouble. Once you wake, we’ll figure the rest out. All right?”
Face buried in her hands and slender frame shaking, she finally nodded.
Thank You, God. She was showing some sense. “C’mere.” He pulled Travis’s blankets from beside him.
She drew closer and wrapped the woolen blankets around her shoulders. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Finn inched farther into the shelter, making room. At her hesitation, he patted the space beside him.
“It’s warmer in here than out there, and my intentions are nothing but pure.”
Hesitating, she scooted under the covering and curled onto her side, tucked one arm under her head, and blinked at him, seeming uncomfortable.
He stared up at the shelter above. “Rest well, Hannah.” Finn closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
Within minutes, her breathing slowed, and she shifted, her elbow touching his shoulder. He looked her way again. The worry that had etched her face moments before had disappeared. Long lashes rested against her lightly freckled cheeks. Perfect lips parted slightly as she exhaled. His heart pounding a little faster, Finn looked away and focused on a pinhole in the blanket above.
Shoot, Lord, she’s even prettier up close.
A glance toward Travis sent his thoughts ricocheting over the crazy prayer he’d prayed earlier. He’d spent much of his adult life avoiding women, for fear he’d make a lousy husband like his own father. He’d been avoiding home as much as he could ever since Ezra fell ill, it being too hard to watch him decline. The job with the stage company had provided a perfect distraction to help him dodge the difficult parts of his life.
Sam would need help caring for Ezra and her baby. Despite hardly knowing either of them, he felt drawn to both Hannah and Travis. The idea of them not being around left a knot in his belly. Maybe it was time to settle down, make some attempt at a real life. But doing what?
Lord, am I thinking crazy? They’re practically strangers. I don’t even know if I got what it takes to make a good husband and father.
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. Better not to dwell on it. His thoughts were probably still pain-and-fever addled. That’s all. He tried shifting his thoughts to safer topics, but within moments, his eyes strayed again to her pert nose and the dotting of freckles sprinkled over her features. Easing his position, he shifted slightly, and she did also, settling her cheek against his shoulder.
Her warm breath stirred against his cheek and neck, sending shivers through him. He closed his eyes, warring inside about whether to draw her closer or pull himself back.
No, he wouldn’t break his vow. He’d be nothing less than a gentleman, though her softness burrowed so close was tempting. He laced his fingers over his chest, turned his face away, and closed his eyes.
Lord, help me.
The Courageous Brides Collection Page 44