He’d agreed to guide them, but he couldn’t allow his heart to become attached.
“Mr. Abrams, tell us a story.” Bo’s little voice broke through his thoughts.
Daniel couldn’t help but smile at the lad. Maybe he could tell about that time he and Pa ran across a bear. He must have been about fourteen years old. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Have I told you about my two friends who went bear hunting?”
“Tell us.” A glimmer of eagerness shone in Bo’s weary eyes as he stroked Grizz’s furry back.
“All right, then.” He settled back on his log seat and began the tale, letting the memories carry him back to those long-ago days.
THE NEXT DAY SAW THEM back on the trail.
Another cough shook the air behind Noelle, and she turned to check on her friend. Louise had taken on Bo’s illness, with chest-deep hacks and a handkerchief often raised to her nose. Sitting atop sweet Gypsy, Louise looked impossibly pale as she tried to offer a wan smile.
“Are you all right? Should we stop?” Truly, her friend looked ill, clinging tight to her saddle. At least Daniel had been able to procure this more comfortable version from the Indians, thank the Lord.
Louise shook her head, a pained expression cloaking her eyes as though the movement brought on an ache. “We need to keep on.”
Another cough sounded, this one from ahead of Noelle. She turned her focus frontward to the tousled head draped over Daniel’s shoulder. Bo’s dreary eyes stared back at her. She gave him as warm a smile as she could muster. His freckles stood out from his blanched face, even at this distance. Poor boy was so miserable. If only there were something she could do to help.
Louise and Bo needed rest. Yet, as Louise said, they should travel as far as they could each day. Every mile took them farther north. Closer to shelter. A place where mother and son could recover.
They’d only traveled an hour or so since breaking for the midday meal. Which meant hours more before they could finally camp for the night. Hours over this winding, climbing, mountain trail.
Another coarse bark sounded from behind her, coiling the knots in her shoulders tighter.
Lord, please. Bring Your healing touch.
Because she knew from experience, the hacking cough coming from her friend could lead to much, much worse.
NOELLE AROSE THE NEXT morning while the sky still hovered in inky blackness, not even a faint light streaking the farthest edges where mountains met the heavens. Across the embers of the fire, Louise lay snuggled between her husband and son, the three of them the picture of an ideal family.
She swallowed down the knot of emotion clogging her throat. If only life could be the perfect portrait they formed. Her gaze wandered to the place where Daniel had spread his bedroll. Empty, as it usually was when she rose.
After stepping into the trees to take care of morning matters, Noelle stoked the ashes to rekindle the fire. Daniel had already brought up a pot full of water, so she could heat corn mush to start them off with something warm. Sometimes he’d come back from his morning jaunts with a rabbit or fox or some other creature, which would be a welcome addition.
Elmer sat up, almost soundlessly so he didn’t wake his family. Noelle offered him a smile, but his gaze had already settled on his wife, a frown knitting his brow. She slid her focus to the woman, too.
Louise’s breathing rang loudly, above the sounds of the morning animals awakening around them. She wasn’t snoring exactly, but more like she struggled to get air in and out.
Elmer placed his hand on her brow, then looked at Noelle, his face showing fear in the early light. “She’s feverish.”
Noelle moved to her friend’s head, then crouched and stroked her cheek. Even before her skin made contact, she could feel the heat emanating from Louise’s face. Her mouth was parted in sleep, her lips chapped, her breathing raspy. She should sleep as long as she could. Her body would heal faster with rest.
She leaned over Bo and touched his cheek. Feverish too. Maybe not quite as much as his mother, but still warmer than he should be, especially in the morning chill. Thank the Lord last night hadn’t been as cold as others recently.
She looked up into Elmer’s worried face and whispered, “We should let them sleep.”
He nodded, then eased himself away. After standing, he turned toward the trees.
Noelle went back to her work at the fire, feeding her tiny flames with bark and twigs.
She’d just added a larger log when a drop of moisture landed on the back of her hand. Her gaze flew upward. An overhead tree must have sent a drop of dew.
But no tree branches hung over her. Daniel had found an open patch of land at the base of a mountain. A grassy section on the other side of the small cluster of trees offered grazing for the horses, and a creek flowed only a short walk away.
The drop must have blown in the wind from the trees. She stood and moved toward the wagon where their food stores were locked away, but another drop hit her nose, and a third on her cheek.
She stared up at the sky as her chest tightened. No rain. Please. They’d been blessed to have only a few quick showers during their journey thus far. Now, with Louise and Bo so ill, this was not the time for them to be soaked through.
A thick layer of gray clouds pressed low in the sky—a sign that this was likely not one or two fluffy rain showers, but a whole full morning of endless rain. Or maybe all day. She turned away from the awful truth of it.
Louise and Bo needed shelter. She scanned the area. The trees might offer some cover, but maybe under the wagon would be best. Too bad this rig didn’t have a covering over the top to protect people and goods inside.
She strode back to the fire ring and gathered the blankets she’d slept with. While she spread them in the open section under the wagon, Elmer stepped from the woods. His grim face showed he’d felt the rain that now peppered her.
“I’m moving them under the wagon.” She motioned toward the woman and boy, now huddled closer beneath their blankets.
Nodding, he strode toward the pair. He reached for Bo and scooped him up, the quilt hanging like a skin half-shredded.
Noelle knelt beside her friend, pulling the blanket down so she could see her face. “Louise, it’s raining, but I’ve made a bed for you under the wagon. Can you walk over there?”
Louise sat up and tugged the blanket around her shoulders, her tousled hair framing her pale face and washed-out eyes. She looked barely coherent as she allowed Noelle to help her to her feet and lead her toward the conveyance.
“You’re going to feel better, dear. As soon as you rest.” She had to. If Louise grew worse... She couldn’t even think about that. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter Six
Relieved of this burden at last, if only for the moment. Yet why does part of me long to take it up again? Fickle man.
~ Daniel
Noelle’s Journal
September 3rd
Louise and Bo languished most of the day yesterday, huddled under the wagon with heaps of blankets. Daniel built a shelter for the rest of us, using branches and an oilskin, but the rain still blew in at times. Finally, Louise woke this morning with her fever greatly diminished, which brings me more relief than I can quite put into words.
At least yesterday is behind us, and the rain ceased by evening, so I was able to dry most of the blankets by the fire. Daniel is a wonder at kindling a healthy flame, even in the mud. It helped that he was thoughtful enough to set apart some dry wood under a cover. Thank You, Father, for sending him to us. I can’t imagine where we would be without his skills. I don’t want to imagine.
Daniel says we’ll reach Fort Whitson soon. He says the fort is only a small place—just a few buildings clustered together. Yet, just the thought of a roof over our heads, and maybe a cook stove to prepare meals, excites me more than I dare show. Or—imagine the thought—perhaps the meals might be prepared by other hands. La, I shouldn’t let my mind think on such fantasies.
&n
bsp; In all seriousness, I am relieved to think that Louise and little Bo will have a warm, dry place in which to recover.
Daniel says a day or two after we leave the fort we’ll cross the boundary line into the Canadian lands. Then we’ll finally be in the territory where Simeon lives. Still a few weeks of travel yet, but closer.
Now, as the rising sun begins to warm the air around us, I look to this new day with as much hope as I can muster. All will be better. It must. I worry for my dear friends, but I can only place them in my Father’s keeping.
DANIEL GLANCED DOWN at the pale face of the boy cradled in his arm as they rode. His eyes were open, staring ahead with a glassy gaze that seemed to take in nothing. He still felt overwarm, his heat soaking through Daniel’s leathers. Thank the heavens they were almost to the fort. He normally only paused there a day or two, just long enough to finish trading, but they’d have to stay until the boy and woman recovered.
One thing to Bo’s credit—and his mother’s, too—neither of them complained much about the hardships. Plainly, they both felt miserable, yet they persevered. Their endurance made his own frustrations about not being able to complete his normal trapping and hunting seem paltry. Selfish.
And he was selfish when pitted against these people. Especially Noelle. She worked herself ragged day and night to care for her friends. Handling the lion’s share of the food and camp chores and caring for mother and son while Biggers helped him with the animals. She’d proved so much stronger than he’d imagined. All with her slender shoulders squared and her dainty chin raised.
Less than an hour later, the ground leveled off and a few tiny buildings appeared in the distance. Daniel normally would have let his party notice the structures themselves, but a glance back showed Mrs. Biggers swaying as she clung to the saddle. Even over the distance between them, he could see the way her hair lay damp against her pale face. Most likely feverish again and desperately in need of hope to make it the last short distance.
He motioned toward their destination. “Fort Whitson, straight ahead.”
A few exhausted murmurs drifted up to him. What did they think of the three humble structures that made up the “fort”?
A shout rang out as they neared the buildings, and Griz answered the call with a bark. Channing, the trader in charge, met them a few paces out. “Well, if it ain’t Daniel Abrams.” The man’s keen gaze took in the weary party, then he turned and called into the building. He spoke in an Indian tongue, probably to his wife who’d come from the Gros Ventre tribe.
He turned back to Daniel. “Y’all come in and warm yourselves. Little Otter’s makin’ grub to fill yer bellies.”
Daniel nodded. “Obliged. This is the Biggers family,” he motioned toward Elmer and his wife, then at the boy, “And Miss Grant.” Then to his party, he said, “Folks, this is Samuel Channing. He’s in charge here at the fort.”
He shifted Bo so he could dismount, then handed over his reins to Channing.
Noelle dismounted, too, before she hurried around to help Mrs. Biggers down. Her gaze met Daniel’s, and her eyes begged for a place where her friend could rest.
He motioned her forward. “Mrs. Channing is preparing a place for us. Come in.”
“That’s right,” Channing said. “Y’all go inside, and I’ll see to the horses. Get yerselves settled.” Channing reached for the other two sets of reins, which Noelle handed over.
Elmer had already set the brake on the wagon and climbed down, and he now took over as his wife’s support.
Daniel stepped close to him. “I’ll make sure you’re all settled, then come back and see to the wagon and team.”
The other man sent him a grateful look.
The group followed close on his heels as he strode toward the middle building, where he’d received Channing’s hospitality in the past. After a warning knock on the door, he pushed it open and poked his head inside.
Little Otter knelt by the fire in the corner and looked up at him with a smile of welcome. He spoke a greeting in her language, which was about all he knew in that tongue. The Gros Ventre were typically enemies of the Blackfoot, whose blood mingled with the French and English in his veins, so he’d found it wisest to keep his Indian roots to himself.
He led the group inside, motioning for Griz to stay put by the stoop, then closed the door against the chill and turned to the woman. She wouldn’t ask for an introduction, as Indian women usually preferred to keep silent at first, but she’d appreciate one, he had no doubt. He set Bo on his feet, then motioned toward each person and spoke their name. That done, he pointed to their hostess. “This is Little Otter, Channing’s wife.”
She indicated the buffalo fur couch in front of the fire, then touched a leather flask that lay near her cooking utensils.
Daniel interpreted. “She says sit. I’ll get something to drink.” He took the flask and looked around for a cup. The ladies would prefer not to share the common canteen. And the sick ones should have their own, if possible. He found two tin mugs, then filled them.
As he carried the drinks over to the others, he took a quick sample of what he’d poured. Water. Good.
Channing wouldn’t waste his whiskey on Daniel, but it could have been an Indian concoction.
He handed the cups to Noelle and Mrs. Biggers, the flask to Elmer. Then he knelt beside Noelle and eyed the group. “I’ll ask if Little Otter has roots or herbs to bring down their fever.”
Noelle nodded and studied him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He met her gaze. In truth, it was hard not to look into her blue eyes whenever she was near. “Just rest here for now. I’ll settle the team and be back with Channing. I’ll bring blankets and bedrolls. Anything else you need? I imagine they’ll have us sleep here.” He glanced along the rear wall, where an animal skin closed off the back room where Channing and his wife slept. That meant the rest of them would be bedding down in this front area. Too bad they wouldn’t have privacy. But at least they’d be warm and sheltered and get a bit of nourishment.
“Nothing just now.” She rested her hand on his arm, pulling his focus back to her gaze. “Thank you, Daniel. This refuge came right when we needed it.”
He swallowed, working past the lump in his throat. He’d not done anything except bring them here. If only he could have done more to justify the respect shimmering in her gaze. He nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
NOELLE AWOKE THE NEXT morning to darkness. And warmth.
A strange aroma filled the air, not the usual wood smoke she’d become accustomed to. It had a smoky odor, yes, but...
She sat up, taking in the dim interior of the cabin, the shadowed figure bent over the fire in the far corner. The smell must have come from Little Otter preparing breakfast.
The food scents weren’t the only things that seemed different in the air. She missed the fresh breeze wafting through their camp. The lack of birdsong as the creatures came to life in the trees. The absence of dew kissing her face each morning, awakening her senses.
But she could be thankful for this shelter they’d been offered, if only for a few nights. Channing and his Indian wife had been truly hospitable, filling them with warm food, providing healing herbs for Louise and Bo, and ensuring they all slept in as much comfort as could be offered in the cramped space.
Two more men had returned just after dark—Mr. Mathers and a gray-haired fellow they called Sarge, although he’d proclaimed it many years since he’d been in the Cavalry.
All the men stayed up late, talking around the fire. She’d lain in her bedroll tucked in the corner, imagining the stories they told and doing her best to store them in her memory. She should write them down this morning, as soon as she could find a few minutes alone.
Rising to her feet, she scanned the others. Elmer, Louise, and Bo were still sleeping, but Daniel’s spot lay empty. Had he even slept?
Little Otter glanced at her as she laced on her shoes. Noelle smiled a good morning across the dim room.
A snore drifted from the somewhere behind the animal hide door. Probably Mr. Channing, since he said the other two men slept in the building that housed the trading goods.
A cold wind met her as she stepped outside, its chilly nip clearing away the vestiges of sleep. The grounds appeared empty.
Where was Daniel? Surely he didn’t feel the need to go hunting for their breakfast while they were staying at the fort. But maybe he thought to help provide food for Little Otter to cook. Just once, she’d like to awake to him sitting by the campfire drinking coffee. See a lazy smile spread across his sleepy face.
She blinked against the image that formed in her mind, her pulse racing as she tried to force it away. She shouldn’t be thinking of Daniel like that. Not longing for his nearness. Especially not in such an intimate setting.
The morning passed quickly as she tended to Louise and Bo. Their fevers seemed to have dissipated, but both were so weak. Louise especially, to the point that she struggled to sit upright for longer than a moment at a time.
By midmorning both of them slept, and Noelle finally had a chance to wander outside again. Elmer had said he was going to the trading room, so hopefully it would be safe for her to visit there as well. Just to see what the place contained.
Channing had pointed out that building the evening before as the largest among the three. She paused at the closed door. Should she knock? Or go in as she would a mercantile or other public shop? Knocking would be the safer option.
At her rap, a scuffle sounded inside, then the door swung open.
Mr. Mathers stood in the frame, a pipe perched between his beard-edged lips. His eyes widened as he took her in, then he stepped aside and bowed like a courtier. “Come in, m’lady. Welcome to our humble abode.”
This Courageous Journey Page 4