Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
About the Author
This
Courageous
Journey
Heart of the Mountains
Book 4
Misty M. Beller
Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:
And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
Psalm 139:23-24 (KJV)
~ ~ ~
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Chapter One
It’s a wonderful thing to know what one wants to do with one’s life. To have a goal worth striving for.
~ Noelle
AUGUST, 1858
Montana Territory
Noelle’s Journal:
August 12th
Today, we left the train—forever, if my aching limbs could decide the matter. The Lord’s mercies are new every day, as the Psalmist wrote, but I think today’s relief from that filthy, rattling car may be the greatest mercy the Father has offered in recent centuries.
We couldn’t have chosen a more inspiring place in which to disembark. The grassland stretches as far as I can see, all the way to the edge of the sky. Flat at first, then ruffled in hills, like creases marring a smooth linen cloth. Elmer says we’ll be traveling straight north, and he’s purchased a wagon to carry us.
I think, perhaps, I’ll be walking much of the way. Tomorrow is far too soon to be sentenced to days on end of another shaking conveyance. I imagine Louise will be eager to stretch her limbs as well, although she looked so pretty when she mounted the wagon bench and sat beside Elmer, the pair of them as much in love as they were a half-dozen summers ago on their wedding day. Bo stuck his tousled little head between them, his gap-toothed smile as bright as the freckles splashed across his cheeks. Were I to ever consider marriage, I should dream of a portrait just like they formed.
Yet, I’m not foolish enough to see only the loveliness. The lifetime of domesticity may suit many, but I’ll not resign myself to being merely a shadow behind a man. I want more. Greater things. I want to stand out.
I think...the beating in my breast seems to know...this journey is the beginning of greater things. My skin tingles with anticipation. Soon, I will meet face-to-face with my destiny.
Noelle Grant closed the leather-bound journal and pressed the cover flat as she stared across the world around her. Were those mountains in the distance? Almost all of Simeon’s letters had mentioned mountains, so this flat land must mean they weren’t even close yet.
“Noelle. Come, I want you to meet someone.” Louise’s voice pierced her focus, and Noelle turned to meet her friend. “Elmer finally found a guide to take us the rest of the way to your brother’s home in Canada.”
Noelle allowed her friend to tug her elbow, guiding her back toward the cluster of people and buildings that made up this muddy train stop. “Has he said how long the rest of our journey will take?”
“Not that I heard. But Elmer’s thinking three or four weeks at the most.”
A surge of anticipation swelled in her chest. Another month and she’d finally see her brother again. And meet his new family. Simeon had been away from home so long, yet she’d not stopped missing her protective elder brother. The oldest in their brood of nine siblings, he’d always had a way of making her feel special. Like she was more than just one of the many.
“There they are.” Elmer’s gravelly voice broke through her thoughts as he turned to face them, allowing a view of the man to whom he spoke. “Mr. Abrams, meet the other member of our party. Miss Noelle Grant.”
He stood tall, dressed in buckskins from head to toe, a darker fur cap on his head. Substantial, with those broad shoulders and his feet spread as though braced to withstand attack. A beard fringed his face, and his eyes narrowed as he took her in, making it impossible to read his expression.
She dipped a slight curtsey. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abrams.”
His nod was barely perceptible. “Ma’am.” Then he turned back to Elmer. “Can you leave at first light?” And just like that, she’d been dismissed. Not worth bothering over for more than a simple word.
She turned away from the men. Someday she’d make a name for herself that would stand out when she was introduced. Someday she would be more than just another face in the crowd.
Something pushed at her skirts, and she stepped back, looking down to see what she’d rubbed against.
Dark, soulful eyes stared up at her from the furry face of a dog. He pressed against her skirt again, and she reached down to stroke his head. “Hey, there.” The dog’s fluffy hair sported patches of black and brown and white, and as she rubbed behind his ear, his tongue lolled out in a contented pant.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, and the dog jerked to attention, whirling from her.
Noelle searched for the source, her gaze landing on their guide, who scowled at the animal and pointed to the ground by his foot. The dog circled and sat in that exact spot, then looked back at her, those dark eyes seeming to question. He tilted his head, adding to the inquisitive look. Who are you? he seemed to ask. And why can’t we be friends?
She raised her gaze to the man. “He wasn’t bothering me. I like animals.”
He didn’t answer, just eyed her. Scrutinizing, as though taking her measure.
Frustration built in her chest. Did this man have a single bone of civility in him?
A feminine throat cleared and helped her to rein in her thoughts, pricking the surge of frustration so it eased out of her like spent air. Louise was right. They needed this man’s help to get to Simeon. Whether he possessed proper conversational manners or not didn’t matter. As long as he didn’t make improper advances.
A knot tried to form in her middle, but she pushed it down. She’d be on guard, and Elmer would too, certainly.
And now that they’d obtained this last critical requirement, they could start out tomorrow. Soon, she’d be on her way to visit her long-lost brother, and, hopefully, uncover some terrific stories along the way. Stories that would propel her to journalistic renown.
Stories she could tell in a way that would prove she was someone special.
DANIEL ABRAMS STRODE away from the crowd of people and buildings that tried to call itself a town. His spirit craved the peace away from all that bustle and talking.
Now that he had things lined up for his next foray north, he could relax. Maybe take a swim in the river to clean up. This might be his last chance in water that didn’t steal his breath with its icy chill. Heading back into the Canadian territories would be a relief, though. Back to the land he’d traversed a thousand times during his growing-up days.
The land of his father.
At the water’s edge, he stripped off his hat, tunic, and moccasins, leaving only his breeches. Griz bounced at his feet, knowing what was coming. “You wanna join me, boy?” He tousled the animal’s head and received a sloppy lick on his arm. “Come on in.”
The water wasn’t deep enough to dive from the shore, so Daniel waded in to his waist. On the bank, Griz barked and pounced. “Come on.” Daniel slapped his leg.
With a flying leap, the dog dove into the water, landing with a splash before his legs started paddling furiously. Daniel pushed aside the weight on his chest and chuckled at the sight the dog made, then sank down in the water to his chin. The chill invigorated his senses, making his blood surge.
After ducking under the surface, he came up with a splash to meet Griz, nose to nose. The dog barked, spraying slobbery water in his face. “Oh, ho.” Daniel returned it with a light splash.
The dog blew into the water in a way that appeared suspiciously like a return volley. “You wanna play like that, do ya?”
He splashed a few drops back at the animal, but his mind slipped back to the woman whom Griz had approached earlier. He’d always heard white women could be fragile and skittish, easily frightened by a wooly, bear-like dog such as Griz. Daniel’s instincts had been to shield her from the dog, and the dog from her. Yet the look on her face had almost seemed hurt, as if he’d insulted her.
That hadn’t been his intent, but he’d obviously missed the mark. He so rarely spoke with women of any race, almost never with white women. It appeared he’d have to be more careful.
Griz finally tired of their splashing game and headed back to shore. Daniel took the quiet moment to lay back in the water, floating half-covered by its surface. Just the solitude he needed to focus his mind on the job ahead.
He’d never particularly liked work as a guide. So much harder to be responsible for other people than when he was on his own, trapping and trading with the Indians. But the pay was decent, and since he was headed toward the Canadian mountains anyway, accepting this job was smart business.
If only Biggers didn’t insist on taking that wagon. With the conveyance, they’d have to skirt some of the mountains, which would add time to the trip. It’d be so much easier and safer to use pack horses, even if they had to buy a few extra animals. But the man wouldn’t hear of it. Said the women and boy would need a place to ride.
Which was another thing. Did they really know what they were getting into, heading into the mountain wilderness as they planned? These easterners probably wouldn’t last a year where they were traveling. At least, not the women.
He straightened in the water and pressed his feet into the muddy river bottom, then scrubbed wet hands over his face.
Guiding them north was one thing. Keeping them alive to finish the journey was a whole different obstacle. He’d have his work cut out for him.
Chapter Two
What have I agreed to? I must be a thick-headed fool to think I can keep these people safe where stronger men have failed.
~ Daniel
Noelle’s Journal:
August 15th
We’ve been three days on the trail, although if we’re following an actual trail, I can’t see it. The land is covered in thick grass as high as my knees in some places. To keep from slowing the horses with our walking, Louise and I have been riding in the wagon much of the time. Yet my limbs crave activity. If only we had a spare horse, I would ride, jaunting across the open land with the wind sweeping my hair, caressing my face with its refreshing fingers.
Mr. Abrams is the fortunate one in the group with not one horse, but two. He rides atop one and piles supplies on the other’s back, alternating his mount each day. Such a mystery, he. Through the day, he scarce speaks a word, even when we halt to rest the horses. At night, he murmurs a few sentences to Elmer, then fades in and out of camp as silent as a phantom. He never makes noise when he walks but always seems to be watching. Watching us. Watching the darkness around our camp each night. What does he expect to see?
Sometimes, when I’m preparing the evening meal over the fire, I’ll feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I’ve come to expect to see Mr. Abrams when I turn. His gaze is so direct, yet he never apologizes nor explains himself. Such a mystery. I should feel affronted by his stares, yet...I don’t. I want to know more about him.
NOELLE PAUSED HER QUILL and rubbed at a spot on her arm. Maybe the wool in her shirt sleeve was causing the itch, although this shirtwaist had never bothered her before. Perhaps that meant it was time for a washing.
She straightened and pushed away from the tree providing rest for her few moments of solitude. She’d best check on the food. Laundry would have to wait until after the evening meal. She could heat water in the pot after she scrubbed it of stew remains.
The expansive sky had fallen into a grayish hue as night crept toward them. Noelle left her spot near the narrow creek and slipped back into the circle of camp. She reached for the ladle beside the fire and drew it through the bubbling mixture simmering in the pot.
Louise knelt beside the wagon, a few paces away, peering at Bo’s arm. “Noelle, come see if you know what this is.”
She straightened and eyed the pair. “What’s wrong, Bo-berry?”
The boy twisted, pinching his lips. “It won’t stop itchin’.” Usually Noelle could pull a smile from him with the pet name, but not this time. She moved over to them.
A red rash marred almost the length of his forearm, puffy like a cluster of smaller dots. Louise held both of her son’s hands, but he twisted to rub the inflamed area against his trousers.
“No scratching.” Louise tugged his arm straight, then looked up at Noelle. “Have you seen that before?”
A crawling sensation spread across Noelle’s own arm as she stared at the boy’s whelps. She rubbed at her itch before she could stop herself, then worked up the cuff of her own sleeve. The red splotch on her arm wasn’t as large as Bo’s, but it definitely held the same appearance. “I don’t know what it is, but I’d sure like to. Do you think it’s an insect bite? Perhaps our illustrious guide would know.”
“Know what?”
She whirled as the owner of the deep, masculine voice stepped from behind the wagon. Once again, he’d not made a sound as he approached. Heat crawled up her neck at her words. She’d not meant to be impertinent, but she’d probably sounded that way.
Louise—sweet soul that she was—spoke up with an answer. “Mr. Abrams, do you think an insect might have caused this rash on Bo’s arm? Miss Grant has been afflicted with the irritant, as well.”
The man’s gaze swept her for a single heartbeat as he stepped closer. His presence swelled in their little group, and it took all she had not to step back. He turned to the boy and sank to his haunches beside him. “Let’s see what ails you.”
Taking Bo’s wrist in his large hand, the man’s dark brows dipped as he studied the arm with perhaps a bit of exaggerated intenseness. “Hmm...”
Bo’s face blanched a little, his strawberry freckles bright as his eyes rounded at the man. “What d’ya think?”
Mr. Abrams lowered Bo’s arm and locked his gaze with the boy’s. “I think I have a good idea now where I got the poison weed from.” She could only see the side of the man’s face, but it looked as if the corner of his lip twitched.
He released Bo’s arm, and the boy drew back while Mr. Abrams held out his other hand, palm up. “See this?”
The lad leaned forward, his eyes lighting. “Oh. You got red marks, too.”
“Yep. Just like yours. They come from a plant the Indians call poison weed. I’m always careful to avoid it, but now I’
m thinking maybe some of that tinder you gathered last night to help me with the fire might have touched the stuff. What d’ya think?”
Ah, that made sense. She’d seen red spots from plants and insects before, but never anything this severe. Everything seemed more extreme in this abundant wilderness.
“I bet you’re right.” Bo breathed the words as though the man had just spoken for the Almighty. “An’ that’s prob’ly why Miss Grant got it, too. She helped me find ‘em.”
Both gazes swung up to her—the eager blue eyes of the boy and the dark, penetrating stare of the mountain man. And, yes, the corner of his mouth tugged in what could be the start of a grin. Mixed with the intensity of his gaze, that half smile made her stomach flutter.
Her own mouth tried to return the expression. Her hand moved to rub her sleeve before she realized what she was doing.
His focus dropped to her arm, and he pushed up to stand. “I think I have a salve that’ll help. With the itching, anyway. The red will take a few days to go away.”
When he returned a few minutes later, he handed a small canister to Louise. “Spread a little on and let it dry. Use it whenever the itching comes.” He didn’t look at Noelle as he spoke. In fact, he barely looked at Louise. After handing over the container, he tousled Bo’s hair and rewarded the boy with one of those delicious half-smiles.
For a second, she almost wished he’d turn that grin on her.
MOUNTAINS AT LAST.
Daniel leaned forward in the saddle as the horses picked their way up the rocky incline. A glance back at the wagon showed the team leaning into their harness, white flecks of sweat lining their shoulders. At least the wagon wasn’t overloaded for the pair. He’d have to make sure they stopped to let the animals blow after each uphill pull. Maybe after this incline, he’d have the women walk. The last thing they needed was for a horse to give out on the edge of the mountain cliff.
A few minutes later, the ground leveled for a stretch and he signaled a halt, then dismounted to let his own gelding rest. They’d climbed about halfway up this mountain, and the peaks on the other side were just visible. Massive, imposing structures that rose almost to the clouds. A few of the distant summits wore snowy white caps. The farther north they traveled, the more crests they’d find that never lost their snow.
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