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Though my mind knows better, my heart still reaches.
~ Joseph’s Journal
MONTI HELD THE GIRL close and pressed two fingers to the artery at her neck. It was there. A faint pulse.
She looked up into Joseph’s face. “She lives. But we have to get her back to camp. Have to get her warm and see what else is wrong.”
He reached out. “Let me carry her.”
She didn’t hesitate to put the girl in his arms. He could be trusted to take the utmost care of her.
He cradled Hollow Oak, resting her head in the crook of his arm so it didn’t bounce. His injured hand didn’t seem to get in his way at all.
They rose and turned toward the embankment, which would be work for him to climb with a load in his arms.
Worried Indians gathered at the top, both young and grown. Monti climbed behind Joseph as he strode up the steep side, and she kept a hand at his back in case he lost his balance. His footing was sure, though.
Dashi came running through the throng of people, sobbing as she approached Joseph and the child. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes welling.
Monti squeezed her shoulder. “She lives. She’s alive still.”
Dashi looked at her, her dark eyes glistening as she seemed to be trying to understand.
Joseph had already started back toward the camp. Monti took the woman’s arm, and they ran in his wake.
Dashi was practically dragging her as they reached the lodge, for Monti could scarce catch her breath.
Inside, Joseph was kneeling over Hollow Oak’s pallet, Antoine at his side. The two Indian men hovered a few feet behind.
The young squaw gave a little cry as she took in the scene, then rushed forward and dropped to her knees by her daughter’s head.
Hollow Oak was awake, thank the Lord. Monti joined the group, and Joseph shifted backward to give her his position.
“We need to get her warm.” His words were a comforting breath at her ear.
She nodded and pulled the animal-skin robes up tighter around the girl. Dashi seemed to get the idea, and worked to snuggle her daughter tighter in the furs.
“The medicine.” Monti twisted to look around the lodge. “She needs to take some. It’ll help her blood flow.”
“I’ll get it.” Antoine groaned as he pushed to his feet.
Monti turned back to focus on the girl again.
Her normally dark lips had lightened to an eerie blueish tint. Her teeth chattered, but as her eyes met Monti, she tried to smile. “M-m-monti.”
The smile started a fresh wave of panic in Monti’s chest. The left side of her face didn’t move. That part of her mouth didn’t pull up. That adorable girlish grin that had stolen Monti’s heart from their first meeting only formed on the right side.
What do I do, Lord? She’d read about this type of apoplexy, but mostly in older people. It was thought to be caused by injury to the brain. Could it have something to do with her heart condition? Or perhaps it happened with the fall on the ice.
If the former, she could only pray the tonic helped. If the latter, rest might be the best medicine for the girl.
Hollow Oak took the mixture willingly. She was such an obliging child, even during trauma and illness. When she’d finished a double dose, Dashi cradled the girl in her arms, rocking gently and murmuring.
“She needs much rest. Can you tell her that?” Monti looked to her cousin.
He nodded and made several hand gestures to the mother. Dashi responded with a nod, then snuggled her daughter closer. Hollow Oak’s eyes drifted shut, which made her face look normal again.
It didn’t stop Monti’s own heart from aching in her chest, though. Why had something like this had to happen to such a sweet, innocent little girl?
~ ~ ~
AS JOSEPH FOLLOWED the priest and Monti out of the lodge, he nodded to Hollow Oak’s father, who stood by the fire outside. He looked grim, more than the normal stoic expression the Indian men often wore. The man beside him must be his brother.
Joseph couldn’t help but stiffen as he walked past. He must be the one who’d offered for Monti. What had she called him? Thunder Rumbles?
He nodded at the man, whose eyes narrowed as he studied Joseph.
Father Bergeron approached the men and spoke with them for a moment, leaving Joseph standing with Monti on the outskirts of the fire’s warmth. He wanted to talk to her, to ask how she’d been. To hear her musical voice again. To erase the worry that lined her face. Which might require wrapping her in his arms. Holding her tight and inhaling her softness.
But when he glanced at her, she was looking at Thunder Rumbles. A knife of jealousy stabbed his gut. But maybe it was better this way, if the man was willing to consider Christianity. If he valued Monti enough to change his faith for her, perhaps he would be the husband she deserved.
If only things could be as simple for Joseph. If all he needed to be worthy of this woman was to make peace with God, he’d put forth the effort.
God may have lost track of him in this mountain wilderness, but maybe the Almighty would hear for Monti’s sake. Yet that wouldn’t make his hand work again. That wouldn’t make him the man he wished he could be. Would it?
“Let us journey home now.” The priest clamped a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Come with us, Joseph. We’ve missed you these past days.”
One look at the kind eyes and wisdom-lined face had him nodding. “Yes, sir. I can ride along.”
Within a quarter hour, they were out of camp and riding over the hill toward the priest’s cabin. The trail was wide enough for two to ride abreast, but not three. He found himself riding beside Monti, the priest just ahead.
The older man made small talk about his conversations with the Indians, speaking mostly to Monti. Joseph kept an ear tuned for mention of Thunder Rumbles, but most of his focus strained toward the woman riding tall in the saddle beside him, although he rarely let himself look her direction.
“Did my young cousin tell you we’ve been to visit the Blood tribe in Greenriver Gap?” This the priest directed toward him. “I was most pleased with their response to her. Very encouraging.”
Joseph glanced sharply at Monti. “Isn’t that the group you said has been ill? Isn’t there danger of contagion still?”
Monti shook her head, her chin jutting. “There’s some form of danger in everything. If the potential for good outweighs the risk, I’ll not stand back and wait.”
She was too feisty for her own good. But that was part of what made her such an enigma. Delicate and cultured one moment, striding right through the bounds of decorum the next if she saw a need she could fill.
“We saw a huge herd of buffalo on that trip.” Her determination softened some, and she offered a tentative smile. “You should have seen them. They covered the land so the ground looked black. I’d have never thought it possible.”
“It is a sight to behold, isn’t it?” Joseph said. “I saw my first herd when we were on the steamboat bound for the Montana Territory. I’ll never forget the way they blanketed the plains beside the Missouri River. And sometimes they’d walk right out into the water, and the boat would have to wait hours for the herd to cross.”
The rest of the trip seemed shorter than normal, but when they reined in at the lean-to behind the cabin, the dusky light that comes before sunset had fallen over the land. He’d not eaten since breakfast, and his stomach was gnawing on his backbone. Which made it hard to say no when the priest invited him in for the evening meal.
“Food sounds good. Much obliged.” He glanced at Monti, who was loosening the saddle from her mare. Had she made any progress with her cooking skills during the time he’d stayed away? “I can settle your horse if you need to get inside.”
“I’m almost done. And I already have food cooked, just need to warm it.” She grabbed the heavy leather contraption and hoisted it off the animal.
Leaving his own horse standing, he strode to her and grabbed her saddle with his good hand. She let him take it, which was a good thing, since it probably weighed almost as much as she did. Or at least half as much.
She’d released her mount in the corral and headed inside before he and Father Bergeron finished with their own horses.
He fell into step beside the man on their way toward the front door. “I hope me staying isn’t an imposition.”
“Non. We are always pleased when you visit. My cousin is...” The priest seemed to choose his words carefully. “She has much that is new to her since coming to this land. New people. New work. Her heart is conflicted about some of the changes, but she will sort through them. I have no doubt.”
Her heart is conflicted. About him? Or about the Indian who wanted to marry her?
They reached the door and stepped inside. The rich aroma of beans met his senses, and Monti scurried from the hearth to the table and back again.
“Wash up for the meal, then take your seats.” She motioned toward a bucket of water sitting against one wall. That certainly hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited, and he had to bite back a smile as he followed the priest and waited his turn with the water. A woman’s touch was usually a good thing.
The food was excellent, and he took the first opportunity to tell her so.
“Merci.” Her face seemed to pink as she smiled down into her bowl of beans. “I can manage a few meals now without burning them.” When she glanced up, a twinkle shone in her dark eyes.
“And where do you go from here, my friend?” Father Bergeron used a flapjack to sop beans from his dish.
“I need to stop in at my sister’s. If I don’t check in with them every couple of weeks, Emma tends to get ornery.”
“That will require much travel tonight after dark. Stay the night here and leave out in the morning.” He glanced at his niece. “Monti will ride with you. She was just saying yesterday she would like to visit your good family again.”
A cough spewed from Monti, and she clapped a hand to her mouth, probably to keep the food from spilling out. Her face reddened, and she looked to be struggling to speak.
The sight was so charming, it made his response come out before he thought through it. “If I wouldn’t be in the way, I’d be happy to wait and escort Miss Monti to visit my family.”
Monti finally swallowed whatever was clogging her throat and gasped a loud breath. “I have far too much to do for a visit tomorrow. But thanks for the offer.”
Her refusal sent a pang to his chest, tightening his muscles. “Monti.” He spoke low, and waited for her to look at him.
It took her a moment, as she busied herself by pushing beans around in her bowl with her spoon. Finally, she raised her gaze to meet his. There was a defiant spark there that pressed harder on his lungs. She’d not have this wariness now if he hadn’t hurt her. The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer on his account.
“Monti, I’d be honored if you’d ride with me to Emma’s place. You need a visit, and so does she. I’ll make myself scarce when we get there, if that’ll help any.”
The spark eased, but only a little, and the hint of pain she seemed to be trying to mask made him feel lower than a mangy dog in a back alley.
“All right.” She dropped her gaze back to her bowl.
How had he made such a mess of things? Did her anger stem from his having left right after their kiss? He’d done it to save her from himself. But maybe she didn’t understand exactly why she would be better off without him.
His mind dropped instantly to the crippled fingers on his left hand. She’d seen his hand without the glove, but maybe she didn’t realize exactly what it meant.
He slid a sideways glance at her. Her head was down. Not the Monti he’d fallen in love with. And the last thing he wanted was to take away her joy. If it required him to reveal his defects to prove she’d not lost anything worth keeping, so be it.
