This Courageous Journey

by Misty M. Beller

When the cup was only half empty, her stomach protested anything more, roiling as though it would spew out the contents she’d just swallowed. She sucked in air, her shoulders still quivering. Her body surged both hot and cold from her head all the way to the tops of her legs.

  Beneath that, she felt nothing. Except perhaps a tingling in her right foot—the one that hadn’t been submerged. Fear clawed in her chest, making breathing hard. “D-Daniel.”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Yes?”

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t turn to look at him because of the cocoon of furs wrapped around her.

  Her head seemed to float, and dark spots danced around the edge of her vision. His silence only pressed down on the fear inside her. “What does that mean? Why can’t I feel my legs?”

  He shifted down to her feet. “I don’t know. We have to get you warm, though.” As he rubbed her lower legs, a hint of that burning sensation returned in her right leg, the one still encased in her buckskin legging and moccasin. That must be good. The pain was surely better than complete loss of sensation.

  He rubbed for several minutes, so vigorously his ministrations jostled her whole body.

  “I can feel the burning again.” At least in her right leg. And she’d finally stopped shivering. Mostly. Now that the shaking had lessened, exhaustion seemed to take over her body as if she’d been running hard for hours. Every part of her wanted to keel over and rest. Curl up into a tiny ball and let her eyes drift shut. Sink into the oblivion that called her.

  “Let’s lie you down.” Daniel’s voice sank over her like a warm blanket. He gently eased her back, and she turned on her side just as she’d craved, tucking into a ball.

  His hands stroked the furs around her, tugging at her legs, rubbing. Trying to bring warmth into her. Good. Daniel knew what to do.

  And she was far too tired to worry just now.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I have not the strength to do what I must.

  ~ Noelle

  Fear pressed hard on Daniel’s chest as he peered under the fur he’d wrapped around Noelle’s foot. Her toes had turned a purplish blue in the hour since he’d first removed the wet leathers.

  He’d never seen appendages in the process of falling off, but he’d seen the leftover stumps of more than one mountain scout. Their surrounding skin was always dark, like a nasty bruise that would never go away. Noelle’s toes were turning a lighter shade of that same color, especially the little ones.

  Oh, God. If you care about this woman who follows You, make her better. Don’t let her lose her foot.

  He re-wrapped the fur and scrubbed the limb with both hands. He had to get the blood flowing through her foot. He couldn’t let her lose it. Not even a single toe.

  After another quarter hour of rubbing both legs through the fur, he moved back to her head. He peeled back his glove to press his wrist against her forehead. Bundled this much and so close to the fire, she should be warm enough.

  Her skin practically singed him. Maybe the fire had become too much for her. Yet, deep inside, his fear found a deeper stronghold. Please, let it not be fever.

  After shifting the blanket he’d laid underneath her, he rolled her over so her back was to the fire. Then he slipped a bare finger behind her neck, just to check the skin that hadn’t been facing the fire. Hot. Perspiration dampened the hair there.

  He pulled her away from the fire about a foot. It would be a fine line between too much heat or not enough. He’d have to keep a close watch on her.

  A glance at the moon’s position showed it must be some time around midnight. His body ached with weariness, but worry probably wouldn’t let him sleep. At least he could lie down for a while, close enough he could keep a watch on her. Make sure she didn’t start shivering again.

  He’d wrapped most of their blankets and furs around Noelle, but he pulled the one extra skin over himself and lay down beside her. Warmth seemed to emanate from her. Or maybe that was his imagination.

  What should he do if she took fever? If he stayed here until she recovered, he had no way of protecting her from the elements. The only tools he had to keep her warm were the fire, the furs, and his own body heat. What if it snowed again? A very real possibility for the next several months.

  Or, what if the fever didn’t go away? He wasn’t a doctor. He knew a little tribal medicine but nothing he could gather in the dead of winter on the side of a mountain. His father hadn’t been able to save his mother from fever brought on by the cold, and he’d had a warm cabin and herbs at his disposal.

  Even that hadn’t been enough.

  Trying to nurse her out here in the elements could only end in the worst. He couldn’t take that chance with Noelle. He’d already put her at risk bringing her this far north through the start of winter. He had to get help.

  Should he take her back to the Crow camp? Everything in him screamed against backtracking when they’d worked so hard to make it this far. But maybe that was best for Noelle. Perhaps she should even stay the winter there.

  When spring came, he could take her on to her brother. But would the man worry and come after her? Surely he’d realize they’d been delayed by the weather.

  If only Daniel knew how much farther they had to travel. Running Horse had said eight or nine days. Had it only been four since they left his camp? That seemed a lifetime ago.

  They were midway then, or close to it. Should he press on or turn back?

  Either way, he was taking a chance that could cost Noelle her life.

  DANIEL’S SLEEP WAS fitful when he dozed at all.

  Fever heated Noelle to the point that he’d pulled her further from the fire and removed two of her furs. The furnace inside her body made her sweat, which meant contact with the cold could make her even more ill. If he removed many more furs, she’d be too exposed.

  He was inept at caring for others. All he could do was his best, but it didn’t seem good enough. Especially when she grew restless in her sleep. Her lips looked dry and cracked, so he woke her twice to drink cool water. A red flush dotted both of her smooth cheeks.

  The minute light touched the far eastern sky, he called the horses and began saddling. He had to get Noelle as far as the animals could travel today. He might have to ride with her to keep her in the saddle, although it wouldn’t be easy for Pauper to carry them both all day. He’d have to take things as they came.

  Noelle raised groggy eyelids when he woke her.

  “Can you sit up and drink this? Then we need to get you in the saddle.” He helped her sit upright, cradling her as he lifted the cup to her lips. She seemed so light, as though she were already wasting away.

  After he helped her rise, she stumbled toward the mare.

  “Hold on there.” He tossed the rest of the water from the cup, then tucked it in his pack. “I need to carry you so your feet don’t get wet.”

  “I’m fine, Daniel.” But her mumbled words seemed more a reflex than her actual opinion, because she waited for him to scoop her up and place her in his saddle. After climbing up behind her, they set off.

  He nudged Pauper into a brisk walk, Griz beside him and Gypsy trailing on the tether strap. Her limp seemed barely there this morning, which was good. He had all he could handle caring for Noelle.

  DANIEL PUSHED THEM hard that day, but when they reached a narrow valley around midday, he cleared snow so Noelle could lie down, then cleared another patch of grass for the horses to graze. Winter brown grass wasn’t the best nutrition, but he was almost out of the feed corn Running Horse had sent. They just had to make it another four or five days.

  If he could keep them all alive that long, they’d have help. He had to believe that. Noelle would be all right. Any other possibility made bile rise in his gut, and he pushed the thoughts aside every time.

  They rode past sunset that night, rode until darkness settled so deep it was hard to know for sure they were moving the right direction. Thankfully, they�
��d been following a stretch of trees for the past half-hour, so it wasn’t as hard to clear a spot for their camp. Firewood was easy to come by, too.

  Noelle’s fever still burned high, and she’d slept in his arms most of the afternoon. Now her breathing had taken on a wheezing sound, and she coughed more as darkness fell. Not a deep cough from her lungs, but who knew how it might develop?

  If only he had some boneset plant to help break the fever. Then a memory surged—something his aunt, Nopi, had used. The bark from a willow tree.

  It was too dark to search for a willow tonight, but he’d look at first light. He might have to wait until they found water again, since willows preferred to line creeks and rivers.

  After settling the horses and chopping enough wood for the night’s fire, he sank down beside Noelle. “Are you ready to eat?” She’d barely consumed one strip of jerky all day, so he was going to make sure she forced enough food down now. Maybe he should have stopped before dark so he could hunt. Fresh meat would be much more palatable than this hard stuff.

  She raised weary eyelids, just enough to look at him through slits.

  He slipped his hand under her arms. “Let’s sit up a little.” No matter how he tried to keep his voice light, the heaviness in his chest weighed down his words.

  Holding herself upright seemed too much for her, so he rested her against a wad of blankets. “How about a drink first?”

  As he put the cup to her lips, her long lashes fluttered, then lifted to look at him. Her skin was still so pale, and a red flush bloomed on both her cheeks. Even her eyes looked weary, but she held his gaze. A gaze so trusting, as though she felt confident placing her well-being in his hands. Her very life.

  A boulder clogged his throat, and he dropped his gaze to the cup. He couldn’t fail her, yet he was so powerless to save her.

  All he could do was attempt to keep her warm and nourished—which he wasn’t doing such a good job with—and get her to her brother’s family.

  I’m not strong enough. You’re not strong enough. Only God can fix this. Her words from a few days earlier swept through his mind like an eagle pouncing on its prey.

  If God could fix it, why didn’t He? She was right about one thing. Daniel wasn’t strong enough to make her well. He could only hope he was strong enough to get her to someone who could.

  EXHAUSTED AS DANIEL was, he didn’t sleep much better than he had the night before. In the scant morning light of early dawn, he was able to snag a snowshoe hare, but he walked as far as he dared without finding a willow tree. Maybe he’d have better luck while they were riding.

  Noelle stirred restlessly in her sleep. And no wonder, since heat emanated from her stronger than from the campfire. Should he bathe her face with a bit of snow? That seemed crazy in temperatures so cold, yet her body felt close to igniting from the heat it created.

  He dabbed a small bit of snow on her cheeks, then her forehead, but the icy pellets seemed to melt on contact. Noelle’s eyelids flickered open, showing a hazy look as though she couldn’t quite place what was happening.

  “I’m trying to get your fever down. Can you drink a little?”

  She parted her lips, and he poured a few sips into her mouth. But then a spasm of coughs took over, and she turned to the side as her body shook in raspy barks.

  “Oh, Noelle.” His own chest throbbed. Every part of him ached as if he were trying to take on her pain. And he would bear her burden in half a second if there was any way to take the agony from her.

  The coughs ceased, and she sank back, her beautiful lashes dipping. He couldn’t help but press a kiss to her brow. The heat there made bile rise in his stomach. “I’m going to get you help, love. Hold on. Please.”

  Something like a murmur slipped from her, but no words he could understand.

  He ran a hand down her bundled arm. “Let me get the horses ready, then I’ll be back for you.”

  THAT DAY SEEMED TO stretch on forever, especially since it grew harder and harder to wake Noelle when Daniel tried to have her drink and eat a few bites. At dusk, he found a narrow river lined with a cluster of trees—one of them a willow.

  “Looks like we’ll camp here.” He’d been talking at random times throughout the day, hoping maybe his rambling would give Noelle something to hold onto. Something to keep her aware of where they were so she wouldn’t slip into that place where he couldn’t reach her.

  She didn’t acknowledge when he pulled her off the gelding. Her head didn’t loll, but she must have been too worn out to open her eyes.

  He kicked aside as much snow as he could, then laid a fur on the ground to shield her from the wet beneath. “Rest easy while I make up a batch of willow tea. It’ll take a minute, because I have to build the fire enough to steep the tea, but at least we found the tree.” He hadn’t talked this much in his life, yet he couldn’t seem to stop rambling. Maybe he was doing it to keep from losing his mind. He might be dangerously close to that end, as out of control as he felt.

  Once he had the horses settled and the tea brewed, it took over an hour to get a single cupful into Noelle. Between the coughs that wracked her body and her extreme exhaustion, she only took a couple of sips at a time before she had to rest.

  Which gave him too much time to watch her. The sight of her so weak, so near the end of her strength, twisted him tightly inside until he wanted to scream. To cry. To do something. Anything that would make a difference.

  He raised his gaze to the cloudy heavens. “If You’re up there like Noelle says, then make her well.” Please. If her God didn’t save her, Daniel had no other recourse.

  He had nothing left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  This fear that presses around me threatens to shatter my heart in pieces.

  ~ Daniel

  DANIEL WOKE WITH A start, the brightness of daylight on snow blinding him. He squinted to make out his surroundings. How had he slept through the night? His gaze landed on Noelle, focusing on her face. Her skin was pale as the snow around their camp, although a touch of pink still brushed both her cheeks.

  Her lips were chapped and cracking, but he studied them for the regular intake of breath. No movement.

  He bolted upright and pressed his hand to her forehead. Scalding. Then he slid his fingers down to her neck, pushing back the blankets so he could have access to her pulse. Still thrumming. Quicker than before? Almost like a flutter. He laid a finger on her lips. Maybe there was a tiny bit of air coming through.

  His own pulse raced as he reached for the cup, then scooped it in the pan of willow bark tea. The tin pinged off ice.

  Of course the liquid had frozen. He’d slept all night and let the fire die.

  His hands shook as he worked the fire, which made it harder to stoke the coals into flame. He was cold, sure. But he knew fear when he saw it. The trembling was merely an overflow of the twisted spasms in his gut. He had to get Noelle to someone who could help.

  Today? Was today the fourth day since she’d taken ill? Nights and days had run together, but that seemed right. Maybe.

  Possibly tomorrow they’d reach her brother. He’d be on the lookout for an enclave of flat land surrounded by three mountains. He just had to keep Noelle alive until tomorrow.

  The thought surged panic in his chest, and he pushed to his feet and headed for the woods. There was much to do before they could move out this morning.

  It seemed to take forever to get the fire going enough to melt a cup of tea for Noelle, and he tried to eat a little something as he worked. Yet his stomach would barely hold down a few bites.

  When the drink was ready, he moved to Noelle and stroked her burning forehead. “Noelle, can you wake enough to drink this? It’ll help you.”

  She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Not a murmur or even a restless twitching.

  He touched her shoulder, nudged. “Wake up, Noelle. You need to drink this.”

  Still nothing. His pulse pounded in his ears, every muscle in his body clenching. He shook her. �
�Please, Noelle.” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t control it any more than he could wake her. “You have to wake up.”

  She was still breathing. He could tell by the slight puffs of air leaving her parted lips.

  “Here, just a little.” He raised her head and dribbled a few drops between her lips. She needed something to sustain her, and this was the only thing he had.

  When he’d poured in as much as he dared, he rushed through packing up the camp.

  He had to reach her brother’s place today. Even if it took riding into the night. Noelle might not make it until tomorrow.

  THE FIRST SNOWFLAKE fell before noon.

  Daniel tamped down his fear and nudged Pauper into a trot as the ground leveled out around the mountain they were skirting. But the horse was only able to keep up the faster gait for a few strides.

  This blasted snow was everywhere, over three feet high in most spots. In some places it drifted almost twice that much.

  More flakes fell—small pellets of ice crystals that seemed to increase with each breath he took. They stung his face, but he adjusted Noelle’s blanket so she was protected from the onslaught.

  “It’s snowing, love.” He drank in her fragile features, a new lump clogging his throat. “Can you hear me, Noelle? It’s snowing.” His voice cracked, but it mattered not. He’d do anything for his words to make her eyelids flutter open. To see those beautiful eyes looking deep inside him.

  He’d let her see whatever she wanted. Let her have whatever she wanted. His heart? She already held it. If only she would wake so he could tell her.

  Through the afternoon, he only stopped once for the horses to blow. Snow fell heavy now, limiting his vision. If the wind started blowing, they’d be in danger of a regular blizzard.

  Every so often, he dabbled water in Noelle’s mouth with a canteen he’d rigged the day before. If he’d thought about it, he would have brewed tea to put in the canteen. But he’d not spent time on anything.