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“Every decision has consequences I never foresaw. Guide me, Lord.”
~ Samuel
MORIAH EYED SAMUEL as he lowered to his knees beside her, a plate in his hand and Cherry already positioned in the sling across his chest. As much as she would love to watch him with her daughter for the rest of the day, he shouldn’t be burdened with the babe.
She patted the ground in front of her. “Lay her here with me.”
“I will in a minute. Eat this first, if you can.” He lowered the plate and held out a cup. “The water’s warm.”
“Excuse me. Mr. Grant? Ma’am?”
They both turned to look up at Matisse, who stood a few steps away.
He was holding out something in his hand, a small white object she couldn’t quite make out. “I don’t know if this will help, but Pierre always kept these around. When either of us was ailing, we’d eat one. He called it garlic, and it always seems to help. Maybe Mrs. Clark would want to try one?”
Samuel straightened and reached out, taking what the boy offered. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, giving her a better look at the oval shaped piece that was half the length of her little finger and milky white.
The sight stirred a memory. Not a full recollection, just an impression. One of the older women had given something like this to her mother when she’d had a knife wound that festered.
She lifted her focus to Samuel, whose raised brows held a skeptical look. She nodded. “I think I know of this. I’ll try it.” At least, she prayed it was the same thing that had given her mother strength. She’d be willing to try almost anything at this point, except... She looked to Matisse. “Will it hurt the baby?” That should have been her first thought.
His brow puckered. “I...don’t know for sure. It tastes awful, but it always seems to make us feel better in a few hours. I’d think if it doesn’t hurt the rest of us, it shouldn’t hurt the little one either.” He squinted, as if recalling a memory. “I remember taking them when I had a broken arm as a boy, maybe four or five.”
The apprehension in her chest eased some with his words. “All right.” She reached for the garlic. “Should I chew it?” The thing was too big to swallow whole.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You’ll want to have plenty of water handy. It tastes bad enough to bring tears.”
The boy wasn’t exaggerating. As she chewed, she had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from spitting the awful stuff into the dirt. The water did little to wash away the taste. She reached for the plate of corn mush, trying not to let her face betray the horrible taste. She could stomach it as well as any other man or woman, but she certainly didn’t relish another dose.
She’d downed several bites before the spicy taste of the garlic lessened on her tongue. Laying the plate aside, she finally chanced a look at Samuel, who was still kneeling in front of her.
His strong face had softened in compassion. “Pretty bad, eh?”
She worked to keep a grimace from her face. “I wouldn’t eat it for pleasure.” She nodded toward the baby. “I can take her now.”
He nodded and lifted the bundled infant out of the sling, performing the task with a smoothness that only came from practice. A knot of emotion thickened in her throat. He was so good with her baby. She hated that she needed so much help from him, but in truth, this man was a gift from God. It would be too easy to fall into his strength and let him take over.
But she couldn’t do that. She had to get up and accomplish her own work. And she would, as soon as her weary body rested just a few minutes.
~ ~ ~
SAMUEL EYED MORIAH’S quivering back as she lay curled into the dark interior of the brush shelter. The fever must have returned in the hours she’d been sleeping. As soon as she finished nursing the baby, maybe she’d let him help her back to the hot spring. That seemed to have done a world of good for her earlier.
At last, she shifted, pulling the blankets around her as she curled tighter into a ball.
He didn’t want to seem overly familiar with her, but she needed someone to take care of her with this illness. He wanted to be that someone. Stepping closer, he lowered his voice so he wouldn’t wake the baby, who must be sleeping again. “Moriah?”
Her head lifted so she could look at him, but she kept the fur pulled up so only her eyes peeked out.
“Here’s some warm water to drink.”
She slipped her hand out the opening in the blanket to take the cup.
He crouched beside her, helping her grip the handle. Her hand was shaking so violently, water would have sloshed out if he’d filled it all the way. “Why don’t you go back to the hot spring to get warm? I’ll keep an eye on Cherry.”
Her gaze lifted to his as she sipped the water. Even her jaw quivered from the cold.
He reached forward and rested the back of his fingers on her forehead. The soft skin was so hot, he nearly jerked his hand back. His chest tightened. “You’re very feverish. The spring made you feel better before.”
Those beautiful eyes had lost their strength as they stared back at him. Was she too weak to get up and walk to the pool?
“I can carry you if that’s easier.”
That seemed to push her into action. She placed the cup aside and worked herself upright. “I can do it.”
She struggled to stand, and he helped her up with a hand at her elbow. But she pulled away as soon as she found her balance. After grabbing the shirt she’d hung up to dry earlier, she turned and marched toward the trail to the spring. “Call me if Cherry wakes.”
Her brush-off shouldn’t have bothered him. It was good she was able to stand and walk to the water on her own. Her strength must be returning.
He reached for his rifle, which was overdue for a good cleaning. Matisse had gone hunting, but with dusk settling so deeply, he should be back soon. At least, this would give Samuel something to do while he waited to see if he was needed.
Needed. He was a sorry excuse for a man sometimes. He’d always been a sucker for anyone who needed him, sometimes even putting his own life on hold to help. Like when Seth had become embroiled in the gambling den they’d managed back in Sacramento. Samuel hadn’t liked the place from the get-go, but his brother had been so excited about the prospect of managing their own business, Samuel had agreed.
Then the establishment and the vices it encouraged had sunk their claws in Seth’s throat, and Samuel had felt more helpless than any other moment in his life. He’d left the business—he couldn’t stand another day in that den of iniquity, and he thought maybe Seth would join him on the ranch where he found a job. But Seth was bound too tightly to the vices that held him. Only God’s grace had finally freed his brother from the addictions, and Samuel had been more than happy to hightail it out of Sacramento and head north for a fresh start. Unfortunately, he’d had to leave his steady job as a ranch hand behind.
He finished wiping down the rifle’s works and reached for a bullet to reload it.
Leaving his job had been worth it to help Seth break loose from his demons. Seth had needed—
A scream ripped through the air, breaking his thought.
Strength surged through him as he snapped his rifle closed and bolted to his feet. That had to be Moriah. Had she seen a bear? A man? Had Matisse sneaked close while she was indecent?
The thought spurred him forward, rifle in hand, anger sluicing through him. He’d finally decided to trust the boy. If he’d missed a devious streak in the lad and Moriah was harmed, he’d never forgive himself.
Another scream, this time sounding almost like two different voices. Both high pitched and female—cries of pain. But how could there be two?
He charged down the path, breath coming in spurts as he raised the rifle to cock it. Thankfully, he’d had one bullet loaded when he heard the cry. Lord, let that be enough.
As he rounded the last rock that concealed Moriah from his view, the ruckus grew louder. Splashing and squeals and yelps. She must be fighting something off. “Help!”
He slowed enough to let his eyes take in the sight before him, which had suddenly stilled. Something big and long lay on the bank where Moriah had sat earlier that day. An animal? In the dim light of dusk, his mind had trouble placing the shape.
Then its massive head turned toward him, and an icy chill plunged down his back.
A mountain lion.
Where was Moriah? Her screams had ceased. He edged forward in a half circle so he could get a better angle at the cat’s side, raising his rifle into position to shoot. But he had to know where Moriah was before he’d pull the trigger. Had she ducked underwater? Probably. That would be the smartest way to get away from a cougar. In this dusky light, he couldn’t see beneath the surface to know for sure.
But what if she’d already been injured badly? What if she was, even now, drowning, unable to pull herself up to draw a life-sustaining breath.
“Moriah,” he yelled. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to answer or not. She might call the cat’s attention back on herself.
The mountain lion turned at his call, almost facing him, but still giving him a clear view of its heart. He should be able to make the shot, even in the almost-dark.
Samuel sighted down the barrel. One bullet, Lord. Make it count.
The lion crouched, preparing to spring. He pulled the trigger.
A flash of light exploded from the gun, and the cloud of powder blurred his vision of the cat.
A hiss and a howl sounded as the echo from the rifle faded. The animal wasn’t dead. Samuel stepped to the side to get a better view.
The cat had moved closer to him. Still in a crouch, but now less than three strides away from him. Had he even hit the beast? That might be a bloody spot above its shoulder, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
And now he had nothing to fight it off with except a rifle, which he could use as a club. He spun the gun so he gripped the barrel in both hands.
The mountain lion sprang at him.
Samuel struck with the butt of the weapon, catching the animal in the chest to slow the charge. At the same time, he stepped to the side.
One front claw swiped his arm. The pain barely registered as he swung around to face the animal again. The cat landed heavily on the ground, heavier than Samuel would expect from such a lithe, deadly creature. Maybe his bullet had done some damage after all.
But the animal didn’t stay down. Spinning, it launched another attack.
He vaguely heard a scream as he swung the rifle again. His foot slipped on a wet rock as the animal slammed into his middle. It managed a hard paw to Samuel’s side before he was able to push it away.
Another gunshot sounded. Another flash lit the darkness to his left.
The cougar fell in a mound in front of him.
“Matisse?” Samuel didn’t dare take his eyes off the cougar, not until he was sure it wouldn’t spring to life again.
“Here.” The boy seemed to be breathing hard.
“Keep your gun pointed at that animal. I have to find Moriah.”
“I’m here.” The words came in the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard.
He searched for the source, his feet carrying him forward as his eyes tried to find her in the darkness. A ripple in the water guided his gaze. There she was, across the small pool and moving toward him.
He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bank. “You’re alive.”
Moriah’s face was paler than he liked, but maybe that was the moonlight reflecting on the water. Her hands raised from the water, and he took them in his own. Hers were warm and supple compared to his wind-chapped, calloused skin.
“Are you hurt?” Her eyes seemed even wider than usual, tracking his face.
“Not bad.” He could feel the sting across his side every time he drew breath, but he’d heal. “What of you?”
Then he saw it. She turned her face in the moonlight, revealing a dark line near her hair that stretched from her temple to her jaw.
“Moriah.” He released one of her hands to get a better look. Blood dripped freely from the mark, running down her jaw, along the length of her neck, and into the water. He shifted back to meet her gaze. “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing. I saw her just as she pounced, so was able to move out of the way.”
Thank you, God. He gripped her hand again. “Let’s get you out so we can doctor that. Do you need a minute to dress?”
“Yes. I’ll come to the camp when I’m done.”
He hated the thought of leaving her alone again. “As soon as I retrieve my shot bag, I’ll be standing right on the other side of that brush. Call if you need anything.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be fine. Where’s the baby?”
A knot tightened in his chest. Cherry was alone. Unprotected against any other wildlife that might present a threat. But he hated to leave Moriah unprotected, too.
“I’ll stand guard.” Matisse’s voice came from behind them.
Samuel turned to see the boy still standing by the cougar’s carcass as he’d been instructed. Even though the animal was certainly dead by now. “All right then.” He extended a hand to the lad.
The boy hesitated, as if not quite sure what Samuel meant. Or maybe he didn’t think it possible.
Samuel kept his hand out. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Matisse slipped his hand into Samuel’s with a nod. “Glad I could help.”
Nodding, he released the boy’s hand, scooped up his rifle, and sprinted back to Cherry.