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This need intrigues me.
~ Seth
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THE SNORING WAS THE worst part of Rachel’s night.
Not the snoring exactly, but the awful memories of lying in the dark, listening to the steady snorts of a man. Her husband, Richard, had only snored when he drank. And he only drank when he played cards. For at least the last year, he snored almost every night. The nights he came home anyway.
She despised snoring.
With her eyes closed, she forced in slow, steady breaths. In two-three-four, hold two, out two-three-four. She occupied her mind with the counting. If she continued long enough, surely she’d eventually fall asleep.
It seemed only a moment later, but when she opened her eyes, daylight filtered in around her. A shadowy form moved to her left.
She jerked upright, reaching for her rifle.
“G’mornin’.”
She had the gun pointed before the voice registered.
The attractive man sitting across the fire tipped one side of his mouth up in an easy smile. “Never had a gun pointed at me so often until I met you,” Seth said. “And I lived in California six years.”
She lowered the rifle to her lap and sat up straighter, then reached to brush stray tendrils of hair back in line. The other men had already risen and must be off preparing for the day. Andy still slept beside her, his face so serene she wanted to press a kiss to his forehead. She could never tire of watching her boy sleep.
But the gaze of the man across the fire seemed to pierce through her, impossible to ignore. Silence stretched between them, and she scrambled to fill it with something. “Where in California?”
“Near Sacramento.” He let out a long breath she could hear even across the fire. “The heart of mining country.” His words dripped with enough regret to make her look up at him.
“Did you strike it rich?” She should do a better job of keeping the disdain from her tone. Mining seemed like its own kind of gambling. That same lust for riches. The same drive to win. That craving became a sickness before the man realized it. A deadly sickness that affected everyone around him.
“Made enough to live on, but it didn’t take long to tell the gold was mostly panned out.” He reached for a cup. “Coffee?”
Was he offering the drink to her? The thought startled her more than it probably should. She’d not had a cup of coffee in...well, almost a year. Her mouth salivated, tasting the brew just from the scent lingering in the air. She had to force words out. A statement that brought an almost physical pain. “None for me.”
He’d already reached for the carafe, but stopped and looked at her. “You sure? There’s plenty to go around. The only other thing to drink is water.”
She swallowed. “I can get my own water.” Pushing back her blanket, she stood. “Can you point me toward the creek?”
“Here’s water for you.” He scooped the cup into a pot and raised the dripping tin up to her. “Samuel brought it a few minutes ago.”
She had to get control of her situation or she’d be too tempted to accept the things these men tried to give her. Water was a small offering, but this would lead to something more substantial, then another favor even larger. Gifts that would put her in their debt. Under their control.
A situation that could easily place her and Andy in danger.
Standing tall, she squared her shoulders. “Mr. Grant, we’ll be providing for our own needs. We’ll make our own camp. You’ve no need to draw water for us or cook for us or tend our horses. The only reason we’ve joined with your party is for the protection a group provides.”
He studied her, his brown gaze drilling deep as though seeing through the glare she aimed at him and finding the vulnerable part of her. She fought the urge to look away. To wrap her arms around herself, to conceal the reasons she warned him off.
At last, he nodded. “Very well.”
Andy stirred from his bed pallet, probably awakened by her diatribe. She reached for the satchel of items she’d need to mix up a quick corn mush, then softened her voice. “Come, son. Let’s walk to find water.”
When they returned to camp a quarter hour later, the men were going about their business, mostly leaving them alone. That evening, she planned to have her own cookfire, just so the men didn’t feel they needed to do things for her and Andy. They wouldn’t be beholden to their travel companions for any reason.
The men were efficient, so it didn’t take long for them to start out on the trail. Mr. Benbow led the way with her behind him, then Andy, and the Grant brothers bringing up the rear. Those two looked so much alike, it made her wonder if their other seven siblings looked as similar.
They wound up the side of the mountain, the trail zig-zagging twice as they ascended the steep incline. The higher they climbed, the more her stomach balled into a knot. She’d never been one to prefer heights, but she hadn’t expected these mountains to trouble her so much.
At last they reached the peak, and Mr. Benbow called for a stop. “We’ll let the animals rest a minute.” He dismounted, and Rachel did the same.
She patted Winter’s damp neck. “Good boy.” If she kept her focus on the horse, she wouldn’t have to look out over the edge of the mountain. She stole a glance at Andy, who’d also slipped off his horse.
“Here, Ma. Hold my horse while I climb up that rock.”
“Wait, no.” But he’d already thrust the palomino mare’s reins into her hand and was clambering onto a boulder as tall as he was. Her heart hammered in her throat and she clutched her neck.
Andy so rarely asked to do playful things, she hated to deny him. And the rock was solid enough, it should be safe. But just being this high up—seeing him even higher—churned bile in her gut.
He stood on the boulder and stepped toward the edge.
Panic clawed inside her like a wild animal. “No!” She jerked toward him, throwing out a hand, dragging the horses with her. “Get back!”
Andy paused and stared at her as though she’d grown a second head. “I’m fine, Ma.”
She struggled to regain control of herself. “Please. Get back from the edge.” Her voice quivered more than it should, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. If Andy slipped on the rock and fell, he’d careen down the jagged mountainside. There was no way he could survive a fall like that.
The disappointment on her son’s face was impossible to deny as he shuffled back from the edge, dropped to a sitting position, then slid down from the boulder to land on the ground. She’d not meant he had to climb down, and she hated the fact she’d not been able to allow him at least a few moments of pleasure. But the relief that swept through her was strong enough to drown out the other emotions.
As Andy trudged back to take his mare’s reins, she stole a glance at the men they traveled with. Mr. Benbow gave her a sad look that reminded her of her grandfather on Pa’s side. She’d not met her father’s parents—at least not that she could remember—until a few months before Pa died. It didn’t take long to love Grandfather. He seemed to embody everything she loved about her father—and none of the things that scared her.
She’d often seen him looking at her father the way Mr. Benbow now looked at her. She fought the urge to duck away from those eyes. This man knew nothing of her and Andy. He had no right to judge her parenting based on less than a day’s acquaintance.
A glance at the Grant brothers showed Samuel staring out over the landscape at the mountains around them, perhaps to give her privacy. Perhaps because she was of such little consequence. Seth had turned to his horse and seemed to be working on his saddle. Did he think her ridiculous, too?
She didn’t want to know. The way she raised her son was none of their affair.
Soon they mounted again and, instead of going straight down the mountain, they followed a trail that wound along the side of several peaks connected in a range.
Samuel Grant took the lead this time, and Mr. Benbow dropped back to ride beside her as the trail widened. Thankfully, he rode on the outside edge. Winter seemed comfortable with the man’s mule, and they settled into an easy stride.
For some reason, this man didn’t churn fear in her like most strangers did, even though he’d first greeted her with his rifle barrel the night before. Something about his demeanor inspired trust, although she knew better than to let down her guard.
“I understand you live in this territory, Mr. Benbow.” She might regret starting a conversation, but she should glean as much knowledge of the land as she could from this man.
“Call me Elias. Please. Can’t stand that mister word.” The wrinkled lines on his face formed a grimace, but they quickly faded as he spoke again. “Yes’m. ’Bout fifteen years now. Used to have farmland in the Kansas Territory. When my family died, I sold it off an’ came out here. Some folks are made for farming, ya know? Not me. I just did it ’cause that was what I had to do.” He rubbed a hand over his heavily-graying beard.
She knew exactly what he meant. Richard hadn’t been meant for farming either. He’d not felt compelled to carry on with it either. At least, not after gambling sank its barbed claws in him. She and Andy had done the work that kept them fed and clothed.
She forced the memories back. “What do you do for a living now?”
He slid her a sideways glance, a touch of humor in his gaze. “Trap an’ trade mostly. Pick up a little somethin’ here, trade it for somethin’ I need there. Hunt for a lot o’ my food, an’ I have a little garden plot in the summer.” He eased out a satisfied breath. “It’s a good life. Relaxing.”
Relaxing. Did he have no worries? She couldn’t imagine a life like that, not in her wildest dreams.
“Look there.” Elias pointed down the slope, turning in his saddle to make sure he’d caught Andy’s attention, too.
She followed his finger and caught movement halfway down the incline. “Are those...sheep?”
“Mountain goats. You’ll see ’em scattered all over these hills. Decent eating if you get hungry, but I mostly leave ’em be.” They’d all reined in to watch the creatures grazing. “They can scale most any cliff or rock. The creatures are a wonder.”
Elias’ words brought back the memory of Andy standing atop the boulder. He had no fear. Not like her. In almost every way, her son was stronger than she was. A thought that filled her with thankfulness.
And utter terror.
~ ~ ~
EVEN SETH’S BONES WERE weary by the time they stopped to make camp for the evening. Samuel looked to be feeling the day’s grueling ride as much as he did, although someone who didn’t know him well might not see the signs. Hopefully Seth didn’t look as worn out as he felt either.
Mrs. Gray and her son seemed to be faring pretty well. They were clearly accustomed to long days in the saddle, although he didn’t miss the way she clutched the leather when she peered down from the higher elevations.
It was Samuel’s night to settle the animals, Seth’s turn to set-up camp and start the fire, and Elias’s turn to handle cooking. Likely, Mrs. Gray would want to be in charge of something, but they could accommodate whatever she chose.
After they unloaded the packs, he set about gathering firewood. Andy, too, was walking through the stubby cedar and pine trees, picking up dry sticks and logs. Working together, he and the boy would soon have enough for the night.
“You can set ’em down right here.” Elias motioned to the ground near where he worked as Andy approached with arms full.
Seth strode toward the spot to empty his own load, but the boy hesitated before stepping closer. Seth motioned for him to go first.
The lad looked at him, then darted a glance at the place where his mother had laid their packs a few feet away. “I...um. Ma said to put the wood for our fire over here.”
It took a moment for the words to take form in his mind. “Your fire? We only need one. We’ll just take turns cooking if your ma wants to make her own food.”
Andy looked toward his mother, who was tending their horses in a grassy area barely within sight. The boy looked uncertain.
The last thing Seth wanted was to cause trouble between them. “Never mind, son. Do what your ma said. I’ll talk with her about it.”
The boy looked relieved, but as he turned and dumped his load near their supplies, his brow still wore a troubled crease. He was more serious than any lad Seth had known. Much more than he or his brothers had been, even Serious Sam, as he’d sometimes called his twin.
After Seth eased his own wood into a stack, he grabbed a log that had rolled free of Andy’s load and handed it back to the boy. “How old are you, Andy?” He kept his tone as conversational as he could so he didn’t scare him off.
“Twelve, sir.”
He let a grin slide onto his face. “That’s a good age. I remember when Samuel and I were twelve. We’d spend summers helping our pa in the fields during the mornings, then head to the pond to eat our lunch. There was nothing better than swimming in cold water on a sizzling hot day. After we swam for an hour or two, we’d throw out fishing lines and let the sun dry us.
“If we caught something, we’d go home and take it to Mama. If we didn’t, we had to go help Pa finish up for the day.” He sent a knowing look toward the boy. “I didn’t have the knack for catching them that Samuel did, but he always made sure I had at least one fish to take home so I didn’t have to go back to the fields.”
The boy watched him with so much hunger in his expression, Seth wondered if he’d ever been fishing. Or ever had an easy afternoon swimming. How much hardship had Andy endured in his young life?
“I’d best get back to work.” Seth gave the boy a light clap on the shoulder.
Andy flinched as though he’d been struck, then turned away. “I need to start our fire.” The lad mumbled the words as though trying to cover up his reaction.
Seth’s mind spun as he gathered more wood. He wanted more than anything to march over to the boy and tell him he had nothing to fear from any of them. Andy and his mother were safe here.
But he had the feeling he’d need to do more than speak words. Consistent action was the only thing that would prove their safety. Being steady and dependable would show that he was trustworthy.
But that was something he’d never been good at. As much as he wanted to be solid and capable like Samuel, he always let his impulses lead the way. That certainly kept his life from being dull, but he’d made enough mistakes over the past six years that he’d gladly trade them all for boring and trustworthy any day.
In fact, that’s why they’d left California. A fresh start. Another chance.
And this time, with God’s help, he’d get it right.
