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“I can’t rest yet.”
~ Samuel
MORIAH GLANCED BACK toward the table where the man had been standing, but he was gone now. “Do you think they’re ready?” Maybe she should go out and help them prepare.
“Moriah.” Rachel stepped closer. “You’re exhausted. Simeon and Seth will bring back Samuel and the boy. I suspect Noelle, their sister, and her husband will go too. Please stay here. For your baby. There’s nothing more you could do that they aren’t able to.”
Moriah tried to back away, but her legs hit the chair, stilling her. But it didn’t stop the turmoil spinning in her chest. “I told Samuel I would be back. He needs me. I can’t leave him out there.” Oh, God. Just the thought of entrusting Samuel to the mercy of others clutched her chest with fear.
“Moriah.” Thankfully, Rachel didn’t step closer again, but her voice dropped to a soothing tone. “They love him, too. They’re his family. They’ll make sure they bring him back. And you’ll be rested and ready to help him when he gets here.”
Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to draw in slow, steady breaths, just like she’d done the night she gave birth to Cherry.
Rachel was right. These were Samuel’s people, and they would surely do their best to bring him and Matisse back. But if something happened and he didn’t return alive, she would never forgive herself. What if they couldn’t find the landmark? They might wander for hours, or even days—precious time that might determine life or death for Samuel and Matisse.
“I’ll bring Simeon in so you can tell him exactly where they are. He’s lived out here at least a dozen years, so he knows every landmark around.”
Moriah summoned a nod, although it surely looked weak. She would tell this Simeon the directions, then decide whether he was capable of bringing back her men in time.
Less than a minute later, the cabin door opened, and a man stepped inside. The same one who’d been standing by the table earlier, although now he was bundled tightly in a furskin coat. He turned and strode toward them with long intentional strides. The closer he came, the larger he loomed, both from sheer height and the span of his shoulders.
She held her chin high.
He nodded a greeting. “I’m Simeon Grant, and you must be Mrs. Clark. Glad you found us. Can you tell me exactly where Samuel and the boy are?”
She described the unusual butte with the boulder on top, and he nodded immediately like he knew well the landmark. And when she told of the trees where they were camped, he nodded again.
“We’ll push hard and try to get there by first light. You said the boy has broken limbs and a fever? What’s wrong with my brother?”
“His eyes are bright red and streaming tears, and he’s able to see very little. It started a few hours before I left, and seemed to get worse quickly.”
Simeon’s brow furrowed. “Maybe the bright sun damaged his eyes. We’ll see what we can do about it. We’re leaving now. Keep praying for them both until we get back.” He turned to Rachel. “Daniel and Noelle are riding with us. Can you go over to their cabin and bring their young’uns and your son over when they wake up?”
She nodded, then the man turned and strode toward the door. Within seconds, even the sound of his boots on the porch was gone.
Moriah stared toward the place where he’d disappeared, every part of her longing to sprint after him. The only thing that held her in place were the words Simeon had said. Keep praying.
Samuel’s prayer from before she left soaked back through her, wrapping her in the feeling she’d had while he spoke the words. He hadn’t just been talking into the wind. He’d been earnestly entreating a God he knew. As though he trusted that God would really answer those prayers.
And God had brought her here, to Samuel’s people. They were on their way, even now, to help him and Matisse.
She sank down into the chair, clutching Cherry to her. Squeezing her eyes shut as she lifted her heart to God. I want to know you like that, God. I want to have that kind of faith. Show me how.
~ ~ ~
SAMUEL SAT BY MATISSE, holding a cup of meat broth to his lips as the lad sipped. He’d cast up the roasted meat they’d tried earlier, so Samuel was attempting warm broth this time. The boy needed some kind of nutrients, both because he’d gone so long without food and because his body would require all the strength they could give it.
Matisse sank back, and Samuel pulled the cup away. Moisture still dampened his brow, and he lay now with his eyes closed, breathing hard. The pain had to be excruciating, but Matisse never complained aloud. Only occasional moans, but otherwise, tortured silence.
He raised his gaze to where Moriah had ridden into the distance the day before. A full day, now that the blush of sunrise had faded into gray winter sky. At least he could see the sky now. Thank the Lord his eyesight had mostly recovered. His eyes still burned and his vision blurred a little, but tears no longer leaked uncontrollably.
They could make it a little longer until Moriah came back. If she didn’t come in another few hours, he’d have to leave Matisse and hunt today, for he’d used the last of the goat’s meat for this broth. The mare and yearling were growing leaner by the day without enough grazing.
But Matisse.
His fever hadn’t waned at all, and his injured limbs looked like they would burst the seams of his clothing any moment. How much longer could his body manage under such trauma before it shut down?
A motion in the distance caught his attention, even as a moan from Matisse vied for his focus. What was that? A horse?
He squinted and peered through the trees. A horse and wagon. Or something large like that. His vision blurred more the harder he strained.
“Hang in there, son.” He swallowed down the knot clogging his throat. “Help is here.” He pushed to his feet and stumbled as he tried to step over Matisse. He caught himself on a tree but didn’t stop to regain his balance, just lurched forward as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him.
He made it out of the trees and waved both hands. “Here! Help!” He didn’t care a whit how ridiculous he looked.
His foot caught on a drift of ice-covered snow, and he tumbled forward. Cold stung his face, seeping down under his coat in a glacial creep that made his whole body go numb.
Voices called in the distance, but with the crunch of snow around him, he couldn’t make out words. His entire body ached as he pushed himself upright. His leather gloves hadn’t been able to keep the icy dampness from penetrating. For that matter, his pants hadn’t either.
When he made it up to his hands and knees, he searched for the wagon again. Closer now. They’d turned toward him, and he could make out two blurry horses along with several figures riding on the seat.
By the time he’d heaved his weary bones to standing, the rig was near enough for him to make out three figures on the wagon seat—Simeon, Noelle, and her husband, Daniel. A minute later, a fourth person jumped from the bed of the moving conveyance and ran toward him.
Seth. He’d never been so happy to see his twin in all his days.
Seth reached him and grabbed hold of his arms. “You’re alive.” He didn’t pull him into a hug, just stood, taking him in from head to toe. “You look like you’ve spent the last ten years wandering the mountain wilderness...half-starved. But praise God you’re alive.”
Samuel tried to summon a smile, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, he turned and used the last of his strength to motion his brother into the woods. “I hope you brought a blanket for us to move Matisse. He’s in a bad way.”
~ ~ ~
HOURS LATER—HE COULDN’T have said how many—Samuel finally gave in to the gentle swish of the sleigh runners on snow and laid back against the pile of blankets, letting his eyes drift shut. Finally having his belly full of Noelle’s sourdough bread and sliced ham and the warmth of being wrapped in layers of blankets seemed too wonderful.
Daniel had stayed behind to pack up their camp and bring the mare and yearling back at a slower pace. Now Simeon was pushing the team that pulled the sleigh hard, for which Samuel was thankful. Matisse lay next to him in the wagon, his labored breathing making it impossible to completely relax.
Noelle sat on the boy’s other side, giving him sips of a willow tea to help with the pain. There wasn’t much any of them could do until they made it back to Simeon’s house. And even then, the setting of those limbs would be excruciating before the agony finally eased. Lord, could You do him a kindness and let him pass out before the real work begins?
As evening closed in around them, he forced his eyes open again. His weary bones would sleep if he gave them a chance, but he wanted to be awake when they arrived. He needed to know Moriah was well.
Noelle said she hadn’t met her yet, but Seth told an awful story of Rachel finding Moriah wandering in the woods and bringing her to the cabin at gunpoint.
Just the thought of the fear she must have endured tightened the coil in his gut. He well knew the feeling of being held at the point of Rachel’s rifle—back when he and Seth first met her—and Moriah certainly hadn’t needed the added fear when their situation was already so tenuous.
Finally, they rolled into the valley he’d left weeks before. Noelle and Daniel’s cabin was the nearest, but Simeon drove past it to his own, pulling the team just beyond his porch stairs so they could easily carry Matisse up.
Noelle stroked a hand across the lad’s brow. “We’re finally here, Matisse. We’ll get you fixed up in just a few minutes.” As bossy a big sister as she’d been, those qualities now made her an excellent nurse. He’d never been so thankful for her.
The cabin door opened, spilling both light and people onto the darkened porch. Many of the figures were small with clamoring voices, but two women separated from the rest, hurrying down the stairs. It wasn’t hard to determine which was Moriah, even when all he could see was the shadowed outline of her.
She was the one who made his heart beat faster. The one whose presence drew him from the wagon bed as the others moved in to care for Matisse. She met him the moment his feet touched the ground, stepping into him with open arms. “Samuel.”
He wrapped himself around her, breathing her in, holding on with every bit of strength he had left. Letting his embrace tell her everything he couldn’t find the words to say.
She clung to him at first, but then eased back. He wanted to pull her close again, but he also needed to get her in out of the cold.
She didn’t pull completely from his arms, though. Just enough so she could study his face. “How are you?” Light shining through the windows glimmered in her dark eyes, showing him the worry there.
He slipped his hands up to cradle her face and lowered his mouth to press a kiss to her lips. A better way to answer her question than any words he might have used. He’d meant it as only a gentle brushing, but the hunger in her response almost drew him in for more. Still, with his family scurrying about, this wasn’t the place.
Pulling back, he let his eyes roam her face, drinking their fill of her beauty. “I’m fine. What about you? And Cherry?”
“Much better. Your sister gave her something that finally broke the fever, and she’s sleeping.” She reached up to touch his temple. “Your eyes? Can you see now?”
He nodded. “Almost back to normal. Just a little blurry at times.”
The sheen in her own gaze thickened. “Samuel.” Her voice cracked on his name. As much as he wanted her to let down her guard, this wasn’t the place. Not in the cold with so much chaos around them.
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Let’s go in.”