He nodded and inwardly berated himself. He didn’t have time to sit and stare at her anyway, not when he had so little time for all that needed to be done.
He urged his horse away from her. He couldn’t forget for a single moment the precariousness of the trip, the danger, the chance of failing if he made one wrong move.
But all the while he helped with the team and gathered and chopped wood for a fire, his gaze kept sliding back to Priscilla. She had helped Mabel from her horse and to a spot under one of the dogwoods. There she assisted the woman in eating a few bites of the cold salted pork and beans she’d cooked last night. Then she spread Mabel’s blankets on the ground and covered her.
Over the past days of riding together, Mabel had been too sick and tired to converse. In some ways, Eli had almost felt like he’d had time alone with Priscilla. He’d grown to appreciate the sharpness of her mind, her inquisitiveness, and her obvious delight in the beauty around them.
If she’d been attractive before, she was only more so now.
By the time he’d finished his work, the last traces of sunlight had faded. The chill was all that separated them from the gnats and mosquitoes, which would soon be out in swarms. He hoped they’d be far away from the Big Muddy by the time the pesky insects came to life.
Priscilla rested her back against the dogwood, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with the even breathing of sleep. Mabel was curled on the ground next to her.
He stood in front of them and hesitated. He didn’t want to wake Priscilla, but he could at least help her lie down more comfortably.
The fire behind him crackled.
Her eyes flew open and she gave a soft gasp. Her fingers fluttered toward her cameo, then to her shawl, pulling it tighter. Her eyes collided with his.
“You fell asleep.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She sat forward and smoothed the edge of her dress, which had crept over the tops of her boots. “I was waiting for you—I saved you a plate of food.”
He glanced toward the fire and the tin plate, with a second plate forming a lid over his meal. His stomach gurgled.
“I found something for you.” He ignored the pangs of hunger and lowered himself to one knee before her.
Her eyes widened.
He swung his hand around from behind his back and held out a lone orchid the same shade as the moon overhead. And once again, he wished he knew what to say, how to talk to her, how to be more sophisticated.
Instead, he thrust it before her.
She tentatively took it from him and lifted questioning eyes.
“For your collection of specimens,” he offered.
Her fingers caressed the drooping petals. “I think it’s a yellow lady’s slipper.”
He didn’t know nor did he care. He only knew that he wanted one of her rare smiles. For a long intense moment, he held his breath.
Finally her lips curved into a smile. “Thank you.”
His pulse jolted forward and he swallowed hard. “You’re welcome.”
What was happening to him? Why did he want to make her happy?
When she lifted the flower to her nose and took a deep breath, her smile moved to her eyes . . .
And to his heart.
He tried to ignore the warning that rang in the back of his mind, the warning that he was overstepping his well-laid plans, the business deal he’d made with her, and that absolutely no good would come of allowing himself the pleasure of her smiles and her company.
The longer he was with her, the more he loathed the idea that he might ever become like his friend Dr. Newell, who’d lost his wife within weeks of arriving on the mission field. How would he live with himself if he ever allowed any danger to come to this beautiful lady God had entrusted to his care?
“Look.” Priscilla pointed to a sandbar in the middle of the Missouri River. “The small island is alive with white feathers.”
“Pelicans.” Eli slowed his horse. “Captain Lewis saw them here too and wrote about them in his journal. Believe it or not, he even took the time to dissect one of the birds and determined that the bird’s pouch can hold five gallons of water.”
She never tired of hearing him share about the travels of Lewis and Clark, which he’d studied in preparation for their own expedition.
On the cliffs above the river, they had a clear view of the water. Most of the time, the lush growth of new leaves on the sedge and seedlings prevented them from seeing the rushing river. But at that moment, the wide openness of the cliffs had given them a peek at more of the fascinating wildlife she loved seeing.
The plump long-billed birds were poking their beaks into their feathers to clean themselves, but in the process of preening, their feathers were falling out and covering the water almost like a feather blanket.
“It’s simply amazing.” Priscilla wished they could stop so she could watch to her heart’s content. She understood Eli’s drive to catch up to Henry, but after a week of nonstop travel, she was as weary as poor Mabel.
“If we were able to find a way down to the river’s edge,” Priscilla suggested, “I could collect feathers and make several pillows.”
Eli stood in his stirrups and stretched his backside. “My hind end would be eternally grateful for a pillow.”
“Mine too.” Mabel gave a weak smile.
“Too bad we don’t have the time.” Priscilla couldn’t prevent wistfulness from creeping into her tone.
“Wasn’t too far from here that some of the trappers came down with cholera last year.”
Priscilla shivered at the dreaded word.
“Three men died before they finally listened to me and moved their camp to a cleaner site above the river.”
“Then they should be indebted to you that the disease didn’t claim more lives,” Priscilla said. “And they should be grateful and willing for your assistance again.”
Eli didn’t respond but instead sat back in his saddle and gave the flank of his horse a nudge with his heel, spurring the horse back to the usual pace.
She did the same with hers.
The more days they traveled, the more she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps Eli had exaggerated the dangers of the trip. They’d been perfectly safe so far. And if someone did get sick or hurt, he was a doctor. Surely he’d be able to help.
“There’s Henry!” Mabel called with a rush of excitement.
“Can’t be.” Eli tipped the brim of his hat higher. “We should still be a few days behind the wagons.”
For the first time all week Mabel sat up straight. “Praise the Lord.”
Ahead of them, passing under a grove of willow and cottonwoods, two wagons were lumbering along the trail, followed by cattle and Indian boys on horseback, including John and Richard.
“Apparently Henry hasn’t been going fast enough.” Frustration furrowed Eli’s eyebrows, and he kicked his horse into a gallop.
Priscilla followed with growing unease. Would Eli and Henry have another of their disagreements? Even though the men were always polite to each other, there was a tension between them that hadn’t gone away. At times she couldn’t help thinking that she was part of the cause of the strained relationship between the two men.
By the time she and Mabel finally reined their horses next to the group, Eli and Henry had already dismounted and were facing each other.
Mabel slid from her horse and sank to the ground. “My dear husband,” she cried, her plain face transformed with joy.
Henry rushed over and lifted her to her feet. “You’ve obviously pushed the women too hard,” he said to Eli.
“And obviously you don’t know the meaning of the word hard, or you’d be days ahead at this point.”
“We’ve been going as fast as we possibly can.”
“Not if we already caught up with you.”
Mabel’s knees wobbled, and Henry slipped his arms around her waist. “My wife can hardly stand. It’s clear she’s exhausted beyond what she can endure.”
Priscilla dismounted and tried to keep her knees from buckling. She was beyond tired too. And dirty. And ready for a break from the endless riding.
“Mrs. Doc.” Richard smiled at her from his mount.
John reined in next to his brother. “Why Mrs. Doc not on steamboat?”
“They said they didn’t have enough room for us. But . . .” She had no doubt Squire had convinced the captain to leave without them.
Henry glared at Eli. “Did you even take into consideration the fact that such riding is completely improper for a woman in Mrs. Spalding’s condition?”
“Come on, Henry,” Eli growled. “You know as well as I do, she’ll be doing a lot more riding over the next few months. We can’t jeopardize the entire trip because of her condition.”
Priscilla tried to muster a smile for the boys, but dizziness swept through her. She grabbed the stirrup to keep from toppling over.
Richard hopped off his horse and moved to her side. He took her elbow and steadied her.
Eli shook his head at Henry. “And look at you. You probably haven’t broken a sweat in the past two weeks.”
“Have you taken any days off?”
“We’ve traveled hard. But it doesn’t look like you’ve done the same.”
Mabel’s knees buckled, and Henry hoisted her back up. He murmured into her ear before scowling at Eli. “Have you no compassion?”
“Of course I do. I’m just not willing to give up.”
“We don’t have to give up. Just slow down.”
For the first time since they’d started their mad race to reach Bellevue in time to catch the caravan, Priscilla was ready for a break. She understood Eli’s urgency. The nagging need to be near David and Running Feet had prodded her onward. But now . . . she was almost too tired to care anymore.
“The women can take turns riding in the wagon if they need to,” Eli said.
“We’re taking a day off tomorrow to rest.”
“You’re jesting, aren’t you?” Eli’s brows shot up. “We can’t afford a day off. It’s going to be hard enough to catch up as it is.”
“We’re not going.” Henry pulled Mabel closer. “You can go on without us if you want, but I refuse to make my wife travel one more day without resting.”
“I realize we’re all tired,” Eli said slowly, as if trying to rein in his frustration. “But if we miss meeting up with the fur trappers, we might as well forget about the mission.”
Priscilla’s body sagged, and weariness nearly pushed her to the ground. More than anything she wanted to show Eli how strong she was.
He’d worked hard to get them to that point, had gone without sleep, had pushed himself harder than anyone. But the idea of taking a break from the endless jostling in the saddle to wash clothes and write in her journal was too hard to resist.
“Do you think it will hurt that much if we take one day off?” she asked.
Eli blew out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re taking his side?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. It’s just that we’re all exhausted, and once we’ve had the chance to rest, maybe we’ll be able to go even faster—”
“You are taking his side.”
“This isn’t about sides.” She wiped a hand across her dusty brow. Grit had made its home in every crevice of her face. What she wouldn’t give for a bath—a real, hot bath. “This is about running ourselves ragged. Even you. You haven’t slept a full night since we left.”
“I should have known you’d agree with him.” Hurt flashed through his eyes.
“Brother Spalding is merely trying to make a wise decision and do what’s best for all of us.”
“And how would he know what’s best? I’m the one who’s traveled west before. Not him. If anyone knows best, it’s me.”
“We do trust you, Brother Ernest, and we appreciate all your efforts,” Mabel chimed in. “If not for you, we would have had to stop long ago.”
“Can’t any of you see the urgency of our situation? The Fur Company steamboat is probably nearing Bellevue. And we have several more days of hard travel ahead of us.”
“God will make a way,” Mabel offered.
“We need to do our part too,” Eli retorted.
Mabel shrank back at his biting comment.
“We need to keep going,” Eli persisted, “or we won’t catch up.”
“That’s enough,” Henry said calmly. “I’ll get Mabel situated, and we can discuss this later. Privately.”
Henry assisted Mabel toward one of the wagons. Priscilla stared after them, and a new and sudden longing poured over her. What would it be like to have the kind of marriage Henry and Mabel had? A real one, where people cared about each other openly, without reservation?
“I can’t believe this,” Eli muttered, glowering at the couple. “If the Board hadn’t insisted that I bring everyone, I’d be halfway there by now.”
Although his complaint didn’t surprise her, the comment reached out to sting her anyway. After how hard she’d ridden, how uncomfortable and grueling the constant traveling had been, how little she’d complained—surely he could see she wasn’t the burden he’d thought she’d be.
He jerked off his hat, wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead, then slammed his hat back down, but not before his gaze connected with hers.
She was sure the hurt was written on her face—especially when his eyes flickered with remorse.
“Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“We’re all just tired,” she offered softly.
He nodded. “Let’s just get some rest, and hopefully we’ll be able to think more clearly tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Doc go sit?” Richard tugged her.
“Yes, Richard. Thank you.”
She’d lift up prayers day and night that God would help them catch the trappers’ caravan. If they didn’t, she hated to think how much more Eli would come to regret marrying her.
Chapter
14
South of Bellevue
Priscilla sang the last note of their morning hymn and lifted her eyes heavenward to the overcast sky. She tried to block out the picture of Mabel’s hand resting on her expanding stomach and focus instead on the object of her worship.
The Lord didn’t deserve her halfhearted praise, tainted with pangs of envy and constant worry about whether they would reach the fur trappers on time.
Although Eli and Henry had finally come to an agreement that they would rest for half a day, Eli had been tense during the two days since then. He’d been short with everyone and had pushed them hard in their race to reach Bellevue before the caravan left.
Across the campfire, Henry opened his Bible.
He started to read, but Mabel stopped him with a touch of her hand. “Maybe Dr. Ernest would like to take a turn reading the Scripture this morning.”
The low-hanging clouds had brought dampness to the air that surrounded them and seemed to push at them, urging them to hurry, to break camp and make haste in their pursuit.
Yet no matter the urgency, they had all agreed—even Eli—that they must start each day seeking the Lord for his blessing and guidance.
“Don’t you think that would be a good idea, Brother Spalding?” Mabel’s voice was too cheerful. “Let’s have Dr. Ernest read from God’s Word this morning.”
“No thank you,” Eli said, drawing himself up.
“I think it would be lovely,” Mabel continued. “I’m sure we would all enjoy hearing you read.”
Henry frowned. “I don’t know—”
“Come now, Brother Spalding.” She patted his arm and flashed her crooked teeth at her husband in a wide smile. “God’s Word has a way of cheering up the heart. It’s just the antidote Dr. Ernest needs.”
Henry sighed but leaned forward and handed Eli the Bible.
Eli shook his head.
“We’d love to hear you today,” Priscilla said.
He turned upon her with a look as dark as a sudden spring s
torm. “I said I don’t want to read. Let Henry.”
His words snapped at her and pushed her to the back of the log she’d used for a seat. “I just thought it might help—”
“I don’t like reading aloud. I never have.”
A gust of wind blew the smoke from their campfire toward her, stung her eyes, and burned a path to her heart. She blinked back tears.
“Look. I’m sorry. I’m better at praying.” Eli pushed himself off the overturned crate he’d been sitting on. “It’s time to go anyway.”
Priscilla batted at the gray swirls blowing into her face. It was only the smoke making her eyes water—certainly not his shortness with her.
“We need to load up.” He grabbed the crate and tossed inside the spoons and plates they’d already rinsed. The clank of the metal ricocheted through the camp.
Mabel’s smile wobbled. She looked from Eli to Priscilla and then back.
What must Mabel think of their marriage? Priscilla ducked her head and reached for the kettle left from breakfast. She was sure the Spaldings had noticed by now that she and Eli didn’t have the same kind of relationship they had.
Henry obviously took his vows to his wife seriously and was doing his best to be a God-fearing and considerate husband. And even though Mabel was plain, he was apparently looking past that to the woman’s sweet spirit.
“White man on horse coming,” one of the Indian boys called.
Eli straightened and pushed up the brim of his hat.
They watched the rider gallop nearer. “Howdy,” the stranger called over the clomping of his horse’s hooves.
As the man drew up next to them, Eli nodded a greeting. “Where you from?”
The man touched the brim of his hat. “From the Otoe Mission Agency near Bellevue.” His clean clothes and trimmed hair and beard made it clear he wasn’t a trapper. “I’ve been helping Moses Merrill build his school for the Otoe Indian children.”
“Merrill, the Baptist missionary?” Eli asked.
“Yessir, the one and the same.”
“We’re headed toward Bellevue. How far do we have to go?”
“You got a hard day’s ride ahead of you, if not more.”
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