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“Help doesn’t look at all as I imagined it...or maybe it does.”
~ Moriah
MORIAH CLOSED HER HAND around her own gun and eased it upward, working the barrel out of the scabbard.
“Leave that rifle right where it’s at.” The voice dripped with deadly menace, but in a much higher pitch than she’d expected. Was this a woman?
Confidence flared inside her. She could face off with any female who came against her, even with a rifle aimed her way. Still, she stopped moving, holding the gun halfway out of its holder.
“Who are you? What’s your business here?” Definitely a woman, although she had the art of gruffness well-mastered. She reined in about two horse-lengths away.
Should Moriah tell her full story or hold back? If this was one of Samuel’s family, the stranger would need details before she would drop her guard.
She forced her voice to carry strength. “I am Moriah Clark. I’ve been traveling with Samuel Grant, but he’s injured and sent me ahead to find his family. Do you know the Grant family who live in a valley near here?”
Shadows still masked the woman’s face, but Moriah kept her gaze on the rifle. If this stranger knew Samuel’s family, she would lower the gun and greet her. Or at least be civil.
If anything, the grip on the rifle tightened.
Moriah held her tongue. Let this stranger explain herself now.
“How do you know Samuel Grant?”
Hope burgeoned inside her for the first time in hours. This woman must know him. Maybe she was part of his family and simply being protective.
“He came to find my husband, then offered to take me to my people in the mountains. When we couldn’t find them, we turned south to seek shelter with Samuel’s family.” She was so accustomed to keeping Henry’s death secret, she’d not mentioned it in her explanation. But that was a good thing. She’d hate for word of his passing to be shared callously with his sister.
“Who else is traveling with you?”
“I am alone right now.” Except for the baby, but she wouldn’t announce her presence yet. “A lad has been riding with us, but he’s badly injured. He and Samuel wait for me to bring back help.”
“Come with me then.” The woman lowered the gun and reined her horse to the side so Moriah could pass. She didn’t put the rifle away though, just rested it across her lap.
She obeyed, nudging the gelding forward. As she rode past the other woman, she tried to get a glance at her face, but saw nothing more than a pale cheek not hidden by the shadows.
Lord, let her be taking me to Rachel. Surely Henry’s sister would help her, even if Samuel’s people proved to be just as she feared—untrustworthy and unwilling to let a strange half-Indian into their midst.
“Turn on that trail into the woods.” The woman’s bark came just as they reached the place where she’d appeared a few minutes before. This must be the path back to her dwelling.
They rode through darkness, a night so black she could barely see the forms of trees around her. She had to trust the gelding to stay on the path and assume that the woman riding behind her would comment if they strayed too far in the wrong direction.
At last, they emerged from the trees. A hill rose just ahead of them. Not a mountain, but at least as tall as the cabin Henry had built her.
“Follow those tracks up and over.”
Moriah obeyed, aiming the gelding toward what looked to be a well-trodden path through the snow.
As they crested the top, a cabin appeared. Light shone through a glass window. Real glass. Something she’d only seen at the fort.
“Turn to the right toward that cabin in the distance.”
Moriah looked that direction, finally spotting another bit of light. This one outlined the shape of another building, with the light coming from the opposite side of the structure.
As she turned the gelding that way, Cherry began squirming again and let out a complaining whimper. Moriah rested her hand under the baby, patting to hopefully soothe her. This may be the valley Samuel spoke of, but until she determined whether the people meant her harm or help, her daughter would be much safer if they didn’t know about her. She’d seen and heard of horrible things done to women and children—the more helpless, the worse the treatment.
And she wouldn’t let any of that happen to Cherry.
They neared the cabin where the woman had directed, and Moriah rode around the building toward the light where the door must be. The glow was coming through a window—again, covered with real glass—and was bright enough to show another building across the yard. That one might be a barn, but it was hard to tell at night.
“Stop by the stairs.” The woman motioned toward the steps leading up onto the porch.
As Moriah complied, her captor raised her voice and called loud enough for those inside to hear. “Seth!”
Hadn’t Samuel said his brother’s name was Seth? The brother who would be marrying Rachel?
A scuffling noise inside preceded the opening of the door. A man stepped forward, lantern in one hand and rifle in the other, with shoulders wide enough to almost fill the frame.
Samuel. Her heart stuttered even as her mind told her this man couldn’t be him. The broad shoulders, every part of his outline was so similar. Could this be Samuel’s twin, Seth?
“Rachel?” He stepped onto the porch, raising the light as he studied them both. “Who is this? What’s wrong?”
“I found her riding alone on the other side of the trees beyond this hill.” The woman’s voice wasn’t nearly as terse when she spoke to Seth, but she still kept a no-nonsense tone. “She said she’s been traveling with Samuel and a boy, but she hasn’t said anything about my brother.”
My brother. This was Rachel? She didn’t seem at all like the loving big sister Henry had described. Maybe sharing more details would help these two realize who she was and that she was only here seeking help.
Moriah turned to face her. “Are you Rachel?” With the light from the lantern, she could finally see the woman’s face—and the way her pretty brows rose at the question.
“How do you know my name?” The question wasn’t tinged with challenge, as she would have expected, but simple curiosity.
“My husband, Henry—your brother—told me much about you. He read me your letters. We didn’t know you were planning to come to our land.” She softened her voice. “He would have loved to see you again, but he died over six months ago.”
The woman’s face shifted, losing its serious glare. The rifle in her hand wavered, then she seemed to tighten her grip. “How do you know that? And how can you be his wife? Henry never married.”
A stab pierced her chest. Hadn’t he told his sister about her? He’d written at least two letters to Rachel after they married. Why would he keep her a secret?
Unless he was ashamed... The thought pressed down on her like an avalanche.
He’d never seemed embarrassed of her in the fort. Had always championed her when the men grew rude and offensive. But maybe he’d not been able to bring himself to admit to his family that he’d married a Peigan woman. A half-blood.
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. Forced her shoulders to square and her chin to stay steady. “Henry and I have been married for two years. We have a child—a girl. I’m sorry if he was ashamed to tell you of me.”
The woman stared at her another minute, and even with the light from the lantern, Moriah couldn’t decipher any emotions that crossed her face. Perhaps shock, but she wasn’t certain.
Then with deliberate movements, she lowered the rifle, replaced the gun into its scabbard, and dismounted. Leaving her horse, she strode forward and stopped by Moriah, placing her hand on the gelding’s shoulder.
When she looked up, shadows hid half her face, but the visible eye was clearly focused on Moriah. “What did you say your name was?”
“Moriah Clark.”
“Your daughter...where is she?”
Moriah hesitated. Did she dare reveal the babe? Even as she pondered, Cherry gave a sharp squirm in the sling. Moriah pushed aside the buffalo robe covering her to reveal the little bundle. “She is here.”
A sharp intake of breath jerked Moriah’s focus back to the woman—to Rachel. “Come inside. Please. You both need to get out of this cold.”
Some of the tension eased out of her, but now the real work had come. “I can’t. Samuel and Matisse need help. They’re at the base of a mountain about a day’s ride from here. Matisse has bad breaks in his leg and arm and a high fever. Something happened to Samuel’s eyes and he can’t see. They have enough firewood and meat to last until morning, but they need help soon. Do you have a sleigh or wagon we can take to get them? Matisse is in a bad way.” Once she started, the words seemed to gush out of her. Had she said everything important? “They need blankets. And food.”
A movement on the porch pulled her attention from Rachel. Seth had turned away and was calling inside. “Simeon, Emma. We need help.”
Rachel touched her leg, drawing her gaze back down. “We’ll go get them, don’t worry. I’m sure Simeon can find them if you give directions. And he’s the best doctor around. Come inside and get warm. You must be hungry too.”
A new wave of relief seeped through her, stealing the strength from her shoulders. “Thank you. I’ll ride back with them. Do you think I can ride in the wagon? This gelding hasn’t had much rest in the last two days.”
“Climb down and we’ll talk inside. You have to warm yourself.”
Rachel was probably right. A few minutes by a fire would do her a world of good. And she needed to pull Cherry out of the sling and change her quickly before they set out.
After grabbing what she’d need from her pack, she dismounted and allowed Rachel to guide her up onto the porch.
Seth passed them on his way out, brushing Rachel’s arm as he passed. His face was similar to Samuel’s but not identical. He spoke in a low voice, clearly meant for Rachel. “Simeon’s gathering supplies. I’m going to harness the team. Can Emma use your horse to ride over and tell Noelle?”
“Of course.” The look that passed between them held more than Moriah was able to unpack. Angst, yes, but also a kind of mutual comfort, as though they drew strength from each other.
Her heart squeezed at the thought, calling forth all her memories of Samuel. She felt that way every time he was near.
They had to bring him and Matisse to safety. Anything could happen to them out there, and if she lost Samuel, she wasn’t sure she could carry on. He’d taken over her heart in a way she might never recover from.
She turned and started through the door. Rachel stepped inside behind her as Moriah let her eyes adjust to the light and take in the scene. A homey room with a large fireplace on the wall to the left. To the right, a man stood working over the table that dominated the area, and against the wall stood a cookstove. She’d only seen one of those in her life and had to force herself not to gawk now.
“Come sit by the fire.” Rachel tapped her arm, and the words shifted Moriah into motion. “What do you need for the baby? I’ll get you food.”
She pulled Cherry from the sling as she moved toward the blazing fire in the hearth. “I just need to change her. Here on the floor is fine.”
Rachel left her alone to tend the little one, which was a relief, for Cherry’s patience had worn away. She cried as Moriah wrapped her in a clean cloth, forcing a plump fist into her mouth to show how hungry she was. She’d have to nurse as they rode in the wagon. Hopefully the men would allow her to ride in the back with the supplies.
When the babe was bundled again in clean blankets, Moriah raised her daughter to her shoulder and rubbed her back to soothe her. Cherry’s favorite position helped, and her cries faded to murmurs.
Rachel approached with a bowl. “Here’s stew. Would you like to tend her in one of the bedchambers? It won’t be as warm there, but you’d have privacy.”
The aroma drifting from that stew was impossible to ignore, especially when her midsection churned in a noisy growl. Her head seemed to lighten as if just the sight of food stole away some of her strength.
“Here. Sit in this chair and eat by the fire.” Rachel placed the bowl on a table beside a large fabric-covered chair. “Let me hold the baby. My...niece.” She stumbled on the word, and when she turned back to Moriah, her eyes held a glimmer of emotion.
Should she allow her to take Cherry? She did want Henry’s sister to know his daughter. And she’d do better on the trip ahead if she had warm food inside her. Cherry could nurse along the way.
Easing the babe from her chest and into Rachel’s arms took more strength of will than she’d prepared herself for. She had to swallow down the tears that threatened her own eyes. “You’ll want to keep her close to me. So she doesn’t cry.” Although the request was really more for her own peace than the babe’s.
Rachel positioned Cherry against her chest the way Moriah had, bouncing and talking sweetly as she rubbed circles in her back.
Moriah forced herself to sit and take up the bowl, but every one of her muscles tensed to spring forward should she need to reach her daughter. She gulped the stew, and when the bowl was empty, she couldn’t have said what she ate.
Rachel turned to her with a smile so soft it was almost angelic. An effect of holding Cherry, no doubt. “She’s lovely, Moriah. Do you mind if I call you, Moriah? I’m still trying to wrap my mind around my little brother being married, with a daughter.” Her expression changed, and red rimmed her eyes. “How long did you say he’s been gone?”
“Almost seven months.” Although it seemed so much longer now. These last weeks had felt like a different lifetime than her days alone in the cabin.
The shimmer in Rachel’s eyes thickened. “So he never knew his daughter. Did he know she was coming?”
Moriah swallowed down the emotion that threatened to clog her throat. “He was very excited about the baby.”
Rachel turned away. Moriah couldn’t blame her for trying to hide her emotion. Cherry started to fuss again, and she moved back to hand over the babe.
Having her daughter in her arms again soothed a balm over her frayed nerves, and she inhaled the sweet baby scent.
But she couldn’t linger there long. Samuel and Matisse needed her.