Elmer joined him to stare at the fracture.
Daniel said, “Don’t suppose you have any extra wheel parts?” Unlikely, but worth asking.
“Thank the Lord,” Elmer said, “the man I bought it from sent an extra wheel. It’s a tad smaller than the others, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Daniel turned to stare at the man. An extra wheel? What a stroke of luck. “I’d call this a pinch.”
Elmer nodded, then looked up at his wife. “We need to get you ladies out of there. Bo, crawl to me real slow-like, and I’ll lift you down.”
He hoisted the boy, then reached for his wife as she climbed over the wagon’s back hatch.
With Elmer’s hands full, Daniel stepped forward to assist Miss Grant.
She didn’t need his help, not really, except for a steadying hand while she jumped. The contact of her skin against his sent a warmth all the way up his arm. He pulled back the moment she gained her balance.
Changing the wheel wasn’t easy, as it required unloading the heavier goods from the wagons as well as lifting the back corner by hand, but at least the time allowed the horses to rest.
When he and Elmer finished the job, Daniel stepped back to study the new wheel. Not only was it a bit smaller than the other three, but the wood looked older. Not very substantial. But it was better than nothing. “We’ll need to go easy on that one.”
Elmer stood beside him, eyeing the same thing. “Do you think we’ll make it to the next town?”
He worked to keep any emotion from his tone. “The next town is at least a week’s ride. Fort Whitson. Just a house and a trading post. Not sure if one of the men there can build a new wheel.” His gaze wandered to the horses. “We’ll just have to go easy. It’d be best if anyone who can walk does so.”
Elmer sucked in a whistling breath through his teeth. “I suppose the ladies can. Bo might need to ride every so often.”
“We can certainly walk.”
Daniel forced himself not to turn at Miss Grant’s melodic voice. Not to acknowledge the way her soft cadence had started to affect him. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as he nodded to acknowledge her words. “The boy can ride in the saddle with me. My gelding’s a bit headstrong, or I’d offer to let the ladies ride when I’m not scouting.”
“We’ll be fine, Mr. Abrams,” Miss Grant said. “No need to worry.”
He did turn to face her then—just couldn’t stop himself. She had that pert chin raised and her blue eyes flashing. Despite the stubborn streak that seemed to show itself periodically, she still looked so innocent.
Protectiveness surged in his chest. “I suppose we can put my packs in the wagon and you ladies can trade off riding Gypsy. It takes her a few days to settle into a trip, but I think she’s all right by now.”
He half expected her to decline the offer, what with the fierce determination in her gaze. But a bit of longing crept in, softening her fire. “Ride your horse?”
He nodded, and the smile that tickled the corners of her mouth made him want to walk the rest of the way, just so he could see her smile from atop his mount. And he’d do it too, if he didn’t need to scout ahead to find the best path for the wagon. A better path than he’d chosen this time.
Chapter Four
Though the journey grows hard, I find relief in the familiar.
~ Daniel
A half hour later, they had the wagon reloaded, including the satchels Daniel’s mare had carried. His pack saddle wouldn’t be comfortable for the women, but he used rope to rig stirrups so they would at least have a place to rest their feet. He also crafted an Indian bridle since his only leather one would be needed for his feistier gelding.
“Which of you ladies has the most experience with horses?” He looked from one woman to the other.
Mrs. Biggers stepped back and motioned to her friend. “Noelle does. I’ve rarely been around them.” Did her face go pale? That didn’t bode well for the next stretch of their journey.
He tried for a reassuring smile, although his mouth felt too tight for the look. “You’ll get a lot of time around horses these next few days.”
Then he turned to Miss Grant—Noelle. The name definitely fit her. Soft. Lady-like. But with its own kind of strength. He motioned her forward. “These stirrups won’t let you mount like a normal saddle. I’ll have to boost you. Put your boot in my hands.”
She approached the horse without hesitation and stroked the mare’s shoulder. “Hey, girl.” Then she gathered a clutch of mane in one hand and the back of the pack saddle in the other.
He bent and cupped his hands so she could step into them, turning so he didn’t get a face-full of skirts. But he wasn’t prepared for the scent of flowers that drifted from her. Something sweet, like honeysuckle.
She placed her boot in his hands. Not a dainty shoe like he would have expected. The thing looked like men’s boots he’d seen traded at some of the forts, except much smaller. Practical, and almost as good as moccasins.
She settled in the saddle as though she’d done so many times before, then took up his homemade rope reins. She stroked the mare’s shoulder again, murmuring something soothing. Then she turned a smile on him that would have melted a snowbank. “All ready, Mr. Abrams.”
He swallowed the knot in his throat. “It’s Daniel. Call me Daniel.” That hadn’t been what he meant to say, yet maybe that’s what he wanted. No one ever called him Mister. He was Abrams to most of the men in the trading posts he frequented. Wild Sparrow in his past life. Daniel to a select few who mattered. Just now, he wanted this woman to fall into that last group.
The thought blind-sided him, and he turned away. What had come over him? A white woman was the very last person he should let himself get close to. His father had taken a fancy to the only white female who’d dared cross the Canadian wilderness thirty years ago, and where had that left him?
Before Daniel could do something he would regret, he walked away—from the horse and the woman.
Noelle’s Journal
August 26th
I thought I was tired before, but I didn’t know the meaning of the word. Louise and I have taken turns riding Gypsy these past four days, and she’s a lovely mare. However, that saddle Daniel devised leaves much to be desired and requires the use of muscles I’d rather not know I possessed. Every part of me aches.
Yet I will not complain. He already thinks me young and inexperienced—I realized that during our first meeting. I will prove strong enough to not only endure this journey, but to be helpful along the way.
Daniel says we should arrive at an Indian camp any day now. Blackfoot, he called them. I shiver at just the thought of meeting a whole camp full of Indians, yet he says they’re friendly. I’m sure I shall have all manner of stories to write after our encounter.
Speaking of articles, I have four written from the stories Daniel tells at night after our evening meal. He’s a masterful storyteller, and I’ve tried to capture not just the tales, but his expressions as he describes them. The stories seem like a part of him. Not just a retelling of events that happened to others, but a gift from himself.
I almost hate to send them to the newspaper. All those people who bustle about in the city, managing their ordinary lives, would think these tales sensational. Yet, would I be exposing Daniel in ways I shouldn’t?
The more I know of this man, the more I crave his esteem. His trust.
But at the cost of my dream? Would sharing these tales be exploiting him unfairly? My path no longer seems clear. Lord, show me the way.
NOELLE SETTLED INTO the mare’s steady clop the next day as the ground leveled off. Daniel had chosen to skirt the mountain beside them, since he’d not found a suitable trail over the ridge.
Which was fine with her. Even if it took longer, watching Elmer maneuver the awkward wagon over some of those narrow mountain trails tied her stomach in knots.
Just now, the view of Daniel’s broad shoulders on the horse ahead was a sight she’d happily endure
. Bo rode with him and had fallen asleep a while back, his red curls just visible as he lay cradled in the crook of Daniel’s arm.
Her mare rounded a boulder, bringing into view a group of triangular shaped structures. “Is this...?”
Daniel looked back at her with the makings of a grin. “We’ve reached Red Bird’s camp.”
How had he not known they were so close? He’d just returned from scouting a quarter hour before.
But as she studied the twinkle in his eyes, the truth settled over her. He’d known, he just hadn’t told them.
His look turned sheepish. “I didn’t want you all to fret too early. Red Bird knows we’re coming and is readying a lodge for us.”
“You know the chief here?” Her heart surged forward. She wasn’t fretting, though. Not really.
He nodded but didn’t speak. Of course he didn’t. She’d never seen a man who used words as scarcely as Daniel Abrams.
She turned to see the reactions of her friends. Louise had taken to sitting on the wagon’s bench beside her husband when they traveled the flat stretches. Now, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as they both took in the camp.
Part of her wanted to drop back and join them in the wagon. Face this new challenge with friends by her side. Yet she was likely safer with Daniel than anywhere. And she wasn’t a weakling afraid of meeting a few friendly Indians.
Three men approached as they neared the edge of the line of lodges. Weren’t the Indian men called braves? These certainly fit the title. All three stood tall with broad shoulders covered by fringed buckskin tunics. Two of the men had reached the age where their braids hung mostly gray, but the brave on the left still bore all the marks of a man in his prime.
Daniel hoisted Bo up to rest over his shoulder, the boy’s tousled head still lolling in sleep. Then he dismounted in a fluid motion that showed a grace and strength more than matching that of the Indians. He signaled Griz, and the dog trotted close to his side.
As he approached the Indians, offering a hand gesture, there seemed almost a resemblance between Daniel and the three men facing him. Not so much in appearance as in manner. Maybe it was the poise they all shared.
The older Indian in the center motioned to Daniel—some kind of sign language it seemed, then Daniel turned to her. “Come. I’ll introduce you.” He waved Elmer and Louise forward, too.
Noelle slid off her mare and approached them, keeping her shoulders squared and her back straight. She stopped beside Daniel, and Louise and Elmer joined her.
Daniel motioned at her but spoke to the Indians. “Noelle.” Then on down the line. “Louise. Elmer.”
Then he looked at her. “This is Red Bird, his brother, Owl Who Sees, and his son, Soaring Hawk.”
Noelle nodded in greeting. Should she dip a curtsey? But the conversation moved on before she could decide.
Red Bird made several gestures, similar to the sign language Daniel had used. He pointed to a lodge in the corner, then beside it.
“He says we can sleep there and place the wagon nearby. Once we unharness the horses, a boy will take them to graze.” Daniel turned back to the chief and made a final gesture.
The Indians returned to the rows of lodges where others had gathered in a curious cluster. Women wore long buckskin dresses belted at the waist and ornamented with beads and bright embroidery. Children wore matching garb, all with the same black braids the men wore.
They were a striking people with raven hair and deeply tanned faces. One woman’s gaze caught on Noelle’s and held. The Indian offered a shy smile, which Noelle returned. The girl couldn’t be much older than herself. Two women from vastly different lands. Different cultures. Yet, the curious smile showed so many of the emotions churning in her own chest. Inside, where a person really mattered, maybe they weren’t so different.
Noelle offered a friendly wave to the woman as she turned and followed the others toward the lodge they’d be using.
“SHE IS YOUR WOMAN?”
Daniel tried not to stiffen as Soaring Hawk’s words plunged into him. His gaze flickered to Noelle, who sat beside him around Red Bird’s campfire that night. It wasn’t normal for a woman to join the men’s conversation, but she’d asked if she could allow the Biggers family a few minutes alone. A thoughtful gesture, yet when he agreed to it, he’d not considered that their hosts would assume Noelle and him a pair.
He turned back to Soaring Hawk and started to shake his head but caught himself just in time. Should he claim her? A young woman unattached was sure to draw attention. He didn’t worry about her safety. These were good people—Red Bird made sure of it. But she’d have every young brave in the camp at her doorstep.
Their stay would certainly be easier and would cause less of a stir if he said she was spoken for. He wasn’t a lying man, but maybe he could find a compromise.
He gave a single nod. “She is with me.” Because they were traveling together. And he had responsibility for her safe arrival at their destination.
Soaring Hawk gave him a teasing smile. “You have chosen well, friend.”
A longing crept through his chest, and he glanced back at Noelle. She was watching him, and their eyes locked. She couldn’t understand the words, thank heavens. But her gaze held a warm trust that made him want to earn her regard. Truly, earn. Not by telling half-truths to keep the peace.
Red Bird spoke up before he had a chance to set the matter straight. He and most of the people here spoke a dialect that Daniel didn’t understand—different from the tongue he and Soaring Hawk had been using—but he was able to make out the question through the man’s signs. Thank heavens for the hand language that was almost universal among the northern tribes.
He answered the man’s question about where they’d come from and how the conditions were along the way, accompanying his signs with English so Noelle could be part of the conversation. Though a hand’s width separated them, he could feel her warmth beside him.
It seemed he was always achingly aware of her presence these days.
One of the other men asked whether he’d brought trade goods, which was just the opening he’d hoped for. He nodded, then signed and said, “I have great powder and beads. In trade, I seek a horse, gentle for a woman to ride.” He motioned to Noelle, who had straightened and stared at him. “After that, I seek furs.”
Several men piped up about horses, but Red Bird silenced them all with a hand. “We will trade in the new sun. Now is for talking.”
Daniel nodded and settled back to answer the questions they peppered him with. After buying the horse, he wouldn’t make as much profit as he’d hoped, but at least Noelle and her friends could be a bit more comfortable.
At this moment, that seemed more important than a hundred beaver furs. Not his usual way of doing business.
Was he going soft? Letting himself fall prey to the wiles of a woman too delicate to survive in this country? He set his jaw. He couldn’t let himself become attached. He would not make his father’s mistakes. He could—he would—be better.
Chapter Five
My heart breaks for those struggling around me. What more can I do to help?
~ Noelle
Noelle’s Journal
August 29th
We left the Indian camp this morning, after spending two nights and a day there. My mind swirls with ideas for articles. I should be writing them now, yet my heart feels the urge to pour out my thoughts in this journal.
The Indians were so much more respectful than I imagined they would be. Their ways are different than ours, of course, but their kindness continued to show, from the special lodging they provided to the food they showered on us.
Daniel traded for another horse, a consideration for which we’re all thankful. The Indians said the mare is gentle, but Daniel didn’t seem convinced, so he rode her this first day out. Louise took over with our sweet Gypsy, and I was given the honor of Pauper, Daniel’s gelding. He was concerned Pauper might be too head-strong, but we soon developed
an understanding. And what a dream he is to sit astride. So smooth at any speed. I felt as though I was being carried atop a feather bedtick.
Poor Bo rode in the wagon most of the day. He’s acquired an unrelenting cold, which keeps his nose a dripping mess. I assume the cooling days and nights are the cause, but it’s hard to watch the boy suffer so.
Daniel seems as worried about him as his own father, although he doesn’t express it in words. It’s remarkable how such a big, strapping mountain man has connected with the insatiably curious lad. I saw it that first week, when Daniel inspected the rash from the poison weed and gave us the salve that made the bumps stop itching. And they’ve spent so much time together in the saddle so Bo doesn’t have to walk. The boy sits in front and talks for hours, with only a word from Daniel perhaps every quarter hour. Who couldn’t love Bo? Yet the bond surprises me anyway.
DANIEL SCRAPED THE last bite of beans from his trencher, then raised it to his mouth, savoring the warm goodness as the food slid down his throat. Noelle’s meals were so much better than his own fare when he traveled alone, and tonight’s food seemed especially tasty.
Maybe she’d put forth extra effort so Bo would eat a nourishing supper. The boy looked close to miserable as he half-lay in his mother’s lap, Griz tucked in beside them. She’d been trying to coax food into him, but he only managed a bite every few minutes.
Poor Mrs. Biggers had her hands full nursing the boy, along with the other chores required in camp, although he’d noticed Noelle took on several extra of those. The strain was wearing on the boy’s mother, if the weary lines in her pale face spoke true.
It had only been a matter of time before one of them succumbed to the trials of this harsh land.
His chest tightened. Not that he wished them ill—not at all. Especially not the boy. But he’d tried to tell Biggers from the beginning, this territory was not a place to bring women and children. Between the weather, the terrain, the animals, and the people, this wilderness discovered the weakness in a person and attacked.
This Courageous Journey Page 3