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“This helplessness... Lord, please.”
~ Samuel
MORIAH WALKED TO THE fire, taking a place where she could see Samuel’s face. He looked to the flames, but his gaze remained unfocused.
“What is it, Samuel?” She reached for his hand, needing the strength of his touch more than she wanted to admit.
He took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. Holding her securely. “My family’s valley is less than a day’s ride from here. Before I found Matisse, I recognized that butte out there with the boulder on top.” He motioned in the distance, through the trees. In the dim light of dawn, she saw what he meant. An interesting landmark. Recognizable, to be sure.
“I’m going to ride for help. My brother can come back with a sleigh to move Matisse. I think the break in his arm may have pierced the skin, and there’s no way I can set that out here. He needs someone who knows what they’re doing.” His words loosed a torrent of conflicting emotions in her chest.
Help. They needed it so desperately.
The thought of others—capable and prepared to step in and accomplish what she couldn’t—filled her with more relief than she should allow.
But Samuel couldn’t ride in his condition. How could he see the path he should take?
She squeezed his hand, determination building inside her. “I’ll go. Can you tell me how to find your people?” And, Lord, don’t let them have disappeared like my own did.
He shook his head, his jaw locking like a vise. “I’ll not send you out in the wilderness on your own. I’ll leave as soon as I eat.”
She reached for his cheek and turned his head to face her. “Look at me, Samuel. Tell me, are my eyes open or closed?” She closed only her right eye, but made sure the left was wide open. This would give her a better idea how deteriorated his vision had become.
He looked at her, but again his eyes didn’t seem to focus on any single point. He blinked, tears still leaking down his cheeks, but not as much as before.
“They’re...closed.” He spoke with certainty, although maybe he was adding bluster to make her think he was well.
Her fear blew out in a frustrated breath. “Only my right eye was closed.” She reached for his other hand. “I think something like this happened to my mother’s husband when I was little. I don’t remember much about it, but he had the same bright red eyes that cried without his control, and he couldn’t see for a time. He recovered, though.” She gripped his hands, willing him to understand. “You’ll recover, too, but we can’t wait for that. I need to ride for help.”
“Moriah.” His voice held an edge of anger. Or maybe fear. “I’m not letting you go.”
“Someone needs to stay with Matisse. We can’t leave him here to freeze. He needs to be kept warm and made to eat and drink.” She glanced at the meat roasting. “The food’s ready now.”
As she released his hands and reached to divvy portions for each of them, he let out a grunt of frustration. “What of Cherry?”
“She’ll go with me. She’ll need to nurse.” The more she thought about it, the more this path felt right. She’d eat, gather enough firewood to last Samuel a full day and night, have him tell her the route, then ready her horse and leave.
Every minute mattered.
~ ~ ~
SAMUEL HAD NEVER FELT so helpless.
Moriah was right about him being half-blind. Maybe closer to full-blind. And that was the only reason he hadn’t already leapt on his horse and struck out to get help. But letting her and Cherry ride away into the snowy wilderness carrying barely enough food to last a day... How could he allow it? How could he stand it?
He gritted his teeth and pushed to his feet. She was gathering firewood, but the least he could do was ready the horse. He stood still for a moment to try to bring his vision into focus. What in the wild west had he done to make this happen? Was it an effect of the cold? Or maybe from that blinding sun when he’d been looking for Matisse the day before?
Only shadows and vague forms showed before him. He blinked, then tried to focus again. His head went light, and he threw his arms out to balance himself. Was Cherry still lying on the ground next to him? He couldn’t fall on top of her.
He stepped away from where she’d been the last time he saw her, then reached for a tree or something else he could use as a guide. What a useless bunch of bones he was. Could Moriah see him blundering through these few simple steps?
Maybe it was best she and the baby leave. For her to see him so helpless like this was humiliating. She was strong and brave and capable. Hadn’t she proved that by how long she’d lived with only herself and a newborn? She’d even given birth by herself—it was almost unfathomable.
Footsteps sounded behind him, a soft padding in the snow, then the clunk of branches settling against each other.
“That’s all the dry wood I could find,” she said, “but I think it’ll be enough to get you through to tomorrow morning. I should be back with help by then. And maybe your eyes will have healed some.” Her voice drew closer as she spoke, then her hand slipped into his.
He gripped her, clinging to the feel of her. Would this be the last time? God, no.
“Moriah.” His voice rasped with the fear he struggled to hold down. “We need to pray.”
He released the tree and reached for her other hand, and she took his willing. Holding her close, he raised his petitions to God—placing her and Cherry in the hands of the only One who had true control of their journey.
And if the burn in his throat was any indication, these tears still slipping from his eyes might now be real.
~ ~ ~
MORIAH DUCKED AGAINST the onslaught of blowing snow later that afternoon as she pushed the gelding onward through the white curtain pelting them. Samuel had insisted she ride his gelding, even though the horse had already traveled a great deal in the past night and day. Taking her mare would require allowing the yearling to tag along, and the less she had to worry about the better.
Even as tired as the horse was, she could still feel his unleashed power. Just as magnificent as his owner.
Cherry squirmed in the sling, more than weary of being so confined. And still feverish the last time Moriah checked her. Would they ever find a safe haven where they could all heal? The thought of a peaceful valley with a warm cabin, plenty of food, and people willing to help—people she didn’t have to fear—seemed like a dream that could never truly happen.
Maybe Samuel’s people were accepting of him, but would they open their doors to an Indian? Or worse, a mixed-blood? She wanted to curse the foul cur who’d fathered her, but she forced herself to cling to the prayer Samuel had prayed before she mounted the horse.
This God she wanted so badly to trust...would He see her to safety? Please. It was the only prayer her exhausted heart could summon.
She forced herself to raise her face into the blowing snow. She had to watch for the mountain on her left with the ring of trees circling its base. That could describe half the mountains in this territory, but so far, each of the landmarks Samuel had given her showed exactly as he said they would.
Another half hour later, the snow still fell, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing as hard. The mountain she was watching for still hadn’t presented itself. She’d seen two other peaks, both with patches of scrawny trees scattered over their bases and sides, but not one with trees spanning in an unbroken ring around the base.
Had he said how far she’d need to travel to reach that mountain? He’d only given two more landmarks after that one, so surely she’d be close at that point.
Tension balled the knot tighter in her belly, whether from the thought of being lost or the thought of meeting strangers, she couldn’t have said.
Another hour passed, with no sign of the mountain. She’d had to stop and position Cherry for nursing, but then she’d pressed on, letting the babe eat and fall back to sleep as they rode. The roasted meat she’d brought for herself was long gone, and darkness was closing around them like a death shroud.
The falling snow was finally dying away, but the icy wind wouldn’t relent. The oppressive clouds blocked out any moon or stars, so the brightness of the snow was her only light. Would she be able to see the mountains in the darkness? Maybe she’d veered too far to the left to find the landmarks Samuel gave her.
God, help me. Please.
Time seemed to crawl by, and she couldn’t tell whether they’d been riding for minutes or hours. She must have missed the mountain. Should she turn back? Or turn to the right as she was supposed to do when she passed that landmark?
Samuel and Matisse needed her to bring help. She’d only left them enough wood to last until morning. If she found Samuel’s brother in the next hour and he was able to leave with her immediately, they’d be hard-pressed to reach Samuel and Matisse by the time their fire died.
Lord, let Samuel’s sight be better. He would be able to care for them both if he could only see. At least they had the rest of the meat he could cook as they needed it.
She reined the gelding to the right, mostly because continuing straight seemed futile when she’d surely passed the landmark without seeing it in the dark. And turning back seemed unthinkable, when every step to reach this far had been torturous.
A stretch of trees spanned along her left side, and she kept the horse moving beside them. Could these be the trees that circled the base of the mountain she’d been looking for? If so, the instructions called for her to ride past them before turning. But she still couldn’t see a peak rising up behind the tall pines.
Lord, show me. Guide us to the right place.
As they rode, a mountain rose up on her right, and the farther they traveled, the tighter the passage between the cliff and the trees narrowed. She’d be forced to ride into the woods soon.
Or maybe she should turn around? Oh, God. What do I do?
Cherry was squirming again in the sling, but she hadn’t started fussing yet. Moriah used her free hand to cradle the babe’s body. Maybe her touch would help soothe.
A thin strip of ground ran between the trees and the cliff, and she kept the gelding there. Could this be a path? Maybe a game trail. It seemed too much to hope that this stretch of ground might be ridden regularly by humans.
By Samuel’s family.
Without a wide stretch of white snow, the darkness closed in tighter and tighter. Maybe she should turn around.
A horse and rider appeared in front of her, about twenty strides ahead. Her heart surged into her throat, and she pulled the gelding to a stop.
Could this be one of Samuel’s family? If so, that must be God’s doing.
But it could be anyone. A trapper. An Indian.
She rested her hand on the butt of her rifle. Should she pull it onto her lap so she’d be ready to fire, or wait and try to keep the exchange friendly?
The stranger rode toward her, and she forced herself to sit stoically in the saddle. Not to cradle Cherry’s sling, which would alert the new arrival to her vulnerable child.
The man approaching wore a fur hood, and the shadows made it impossible to see his face. But as he neared, the glimmer of a rifle barrel showed all too clear.
And it was pointed right at her.