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Be Thou my Defender.
~ Monti’s Journal
MINUTES SEEMED TO DRAG like hours as Joseph worked on the deer. The animal had a number of years on him and the hide was thick, which made everything harder. At least the work didn’t require the fingers of both hands.
When he finally climbed back aboard Copper, the deer wrapped and tied on behind him, a half hour had passed. He nudged the horse into a trot, then a lope, as they ascended the slope.
The glare of the sun on the snow created a haze at the top of the knoll that looked almost like a cloud of fog. He’d seen this trick of the light before, though. He wouldn’t be able to see Monti waiting patiently for him until he came within a few strides of her.
As Copper crested the hill, the glare faded, but Monti never came into view. Where was she?
He scanned the trail in both directions. “Monti?” His voice reverberated in the snowy silence.
No answering call. Only...his gaze lowered to the snow, which was churned in a wide swath that looked like a whole herd of horses had come through.
Bile churned in his stomach. Who’d been here? And where was Monti?
He raised his voice to a yell. “Monti!” His words echoed in the open spaces, and he held himself perfectly still as he waited for a reply. The air grew quiet and as still as a tomb.
A weight pressed hard on his chest as he pushed Copper forward to examine the tracks. None of the horses had been shod. Aside from the priest and Monti, the only others he knew who kept their horses unshod were Indians.
An image of Thunder Rumbles flashed in his mind. Had the Indian gone back and gathered more men to capture Monti and take her by force? The idea of her being held against her will nearly gagged him. It was a very real possibility. Even though that tribe was mostly peaceable, an Indian brave didn’t take well to being thwarted. If he wanted Monti badly enough, Joseph had no doubt he’d take her by force.
The tracks seemed to travel back the way he and Monti had come, so he started riding that direction. It was hard to tell how many horses had been in the group. At least twenty, perhaps. Maybe more. Why so many? It would have been hard for Thunder Rumbles to gather such a large group quickly unless they’d already been assembled. Maybe he’d been riding with them but had separated for some reason when they’d seen him.
Joseph pushed his horse into a canter. It was easy enough to follow the tracks, and since Monti’s mare wasn’t shod, it would be impossible to decipher her prints from the others. He had to go on the hope and prayer that he was following the right trail.
Help me, God. If you ever choose to listen to my pitiful prayers, now is the time. Help me find Monti. He’d not prayed since the avalanche. That hour he’d been stranded with an awful weight crushing his hand, God hadn’t seemed to care. At least, not enough to keep him from losing the use of five fingers. The Almighty had kept him alive but left him crippled.
The things that happened to you don’t have the power to make you more or less than who you are. It’s up to you to decide whether you’ll live up to His plan for you. More of Monti’s words, and as his chest thundered and he pushed his horse harder, the words seemed to thrash inside him. What was God’s plan for him anyway? To lose everything that mattered in his life? First the use of his left hand, and now Monti.
He gave Copper a harder nudge, and the horse turned on a burst of speed. He had to find Monti. There was no telling what would happen to such a beautiful woman with no one to protect her. Especially with her feisty temperament thrown in the mix.
A shrill whistle pierced the air.
Joseph sat back in the saddle and searched the tree line ahead for the source as he eased Copper down to a walk. That had to have been a human sound. He’d never heard a bird make a call like that.
Then he showed himself. Thunder Rumbles rode out from the trees at a trot, straight toward him.
Joseph reached for his rifle. There was no telling what kind of trap this was, but he’d face it armed if he could. He aimed the gun at the Indian. “Where’s Monti?”
The man slowed his horse to a walk but kept coming as if Joseph didn’t have a firearm aimed at his chest. “Don’t shoot.” He made the sign for peace.
Peace, my eye. If the man hurt a hair on Monti’s head, he’d not find peace anytime soon. He sighted down the barrel of the gun. “Where’s Monti?” The man would know what he was asking by recognizing her name. There was no need to lower his gun to sign the question.
Thunder Rumbles stopped his horse with a dozen feet between them and began signing.
Joseph studied the motions. The sign language universal among most northern tribes was easier to learn than any of their individual languages, but he was still slow at it.
From what he understood, it looked like the Indian signed, I know where the woman is.
“Where is she?” He adjusted the gun again. The savage was announcing that he had Monti? He must be planning to hold her for ransom. “What do you want for her? What is your price?”
A flash of confusion slipped across the Indian’s face, and Joseph scrambled in his mind to find the Indian word for price.
But Thunder Rumbles began signing again. Our enemies have taken her. I followed them a short distance, but they are many. We need more braves to fight them and take her back.
“Your enemies?” Surely he hadn’t read the gestures right. “You mean, the Bloods? The Kainai?”
The Indian nodded vigorously, then motioned Joseph forward. Come. We need help to fight the enemy. Many braves to take the woman.
Did he dare trust the man? He was pretty certain he’d read the signing correctly.
Thunder Rumbles waved him forward again, more urgent than stoic at this point. He was obviously impatient.
Do I go with him, Lord? If this were a trap, Joseph wouldn’t have much chance for survival among a band of armed Indians. But what other choice did he have? And if it wasn’t a trap, Monti could be in real danger among an enemy tribe. He could think of many reasons why they would want to capture her, and all of them made his gut churn and his heart race.
Determination sluiced through him, shoring up his uncertainty. He lowered the rifle but kept it pointed forward so he could use it with only a second’s notice.
Then he nudged Copper forward. “Let’s go.
~ ~ ~
MONTI CLUNG TO THE horn of her saddle, trying to keep some space between herself and the Indian whose arms formed a vise around her. More Indians on horseback drove their mounts like madmen, surrounding her and a handful of loose horses tucked in the middle of their circle.
It felt like they’d been riding at this speed for hours. Her insides had jolted until she jiggled like a soft pudding. Her sides ached, and so did the muscles through her arms and shoulders from hanging on.
She almost didn’t have the energy to worry about where these men were taking her. And who were they? Dressed up in all the fancy furs and beadwork and feathers and wearing so much paint, it was almost impossible to tell for sure if she’d seen them before.
A few looked familiar. Maybe.
But familiar from Hungry Wolf’s band of Peigan? Or had she seen these men when she traveled with Antoine to meet the tribe of Blood Indians over the mountains?
The tawny arms around her were solid as steel, keeping her from bouncing off the horse—and from any thought of escape. Of course, whether he rode with her or not, she wouldn’t have much chance of getting away, surrounded as she was by at least twenty Indian warriors. And she’d not had a chance to reach for the gun hiding under her skirts.
At last, they came to a rocky trail that climbed upward, which required them to slow to a walk. The horses spread out single file, with some riders in the lead, others bringing up the rear, and the loose animals tucked sporadically in the middle. Dusk had fallen over the land, which meant darkness would soon be on them. She didn’t recognize any of the mountains that now surrounded them on all sides.
“Where are you taking me?” She twisted to see her captor, the man who had leapt behind her on her horse as the Indians surrounded her. She’d been so focused on watching Joseph prepare the deer in the distance, she’d not heard the riders approach until too late. He’d been like a panther, this Indian, silent and lethal as he clamped one hand around her waist and another over her mouth. Her mare had bolted forward, and the rest of the men and horses fell into stride around them.
Now, he didn’t respond at all to her question. He might not have understood. Or probably didn’t care.
What had Joseph thought when he couldn’t find her? He’d surely see the tracks. Would he try to follow?
A new fear clutched in her chest. He would follow. She had no doubt of that. But he’d be murdered in an instant if he tried to take on twenty Indian braves. Lord, give him wisdom. Keep him safe.
~ ~ ~
THE DARKNESS WAS ALMOST smothering.
With clouds covering the moon and stars, Joseph had to move slower than he wanted to follow the tracks. Even with so many hoofprints churning the snow, the shadows played tricks on his eyes until he could barely tell the difference between a snowdrift and a hoof mark.
Or maybe he was losing his mind.
It’d been about an hour since Thunder Rumbles left. He’d signed something about going back to get more men from his tribe, which would be helpful if it were true. It was hard to tell if the man was weaving a well-played trick and had Monti stowed away in his lodge even now, or if the distant tribe of Bloods really had kidnapped her.
Joseph had nothing to go on except these tracks and his senses.
And God.
The voice seemed to whisper in his mind. Part of him wanted desperately to pray for Monti. To turn her safety over to a God who cared and could be trusted to actually keep her unharmed. If only God would do that.
He’d not protected Joseph. Not kept his body whole through that agonizing hour buried under snow and rock.
But maybe...maybe He would do it for Monti.
God, do you care? She’s come all the way out here for You. Will You protect her from harm? Please? For Monti’s sake.
An image filled his mind of her dark, expressive eyes, smiling at him with those perfectly full lips. The flashing white teeth. Every feature refined to perfection. No porcelain doll was as beautiful as Monticello Bergeron.
And then his mind tried to imagine her bound and held tight by an Indian. A man with lusting eyes and plans to—
He forced his mind to clamp a lid on those thoughts before his anger took over. He had to focus.
A sound murmured in the darkness. A crunching of snow, perhaps? He reined Copper to a stop and turned in the saddle, peering for movement or shadows as he raised his rifle. The snow seemed to echo the faint noise so it was impossible to tell from which direction it came.
Could it be the Indians he was tracking? Maybe they stopped to camp for the night. He had to figure out where they were so he could sneak up on them. Maybe this was his chance to free Monti, even before Thunder Rumbles and his fellow braves arrived like a regiment of cavalry.
He slipped off his horse and led the animal to the side of the trail, off the wide swath of tracks. Maybe he should leave Copper here and move forward on foot.
The sounds of snow crunching seemed to grow louder. Then he heard the snuffle of a horse. Another nickered softly.
Joseph spun toward the noise. They were coming from his backtrail. Surely Thunder Rumbles hadn’t returned so soon.
As Joseph waited just out of sight in the eerie darkness, the sounds grew louder. A group of riders, to be sure. Then the animals emerged from the blackness like spirits drifting from the dark place. Indians painted for war, feathers and war bonnets decorating their heads.
And there, front and center, rode Thunder Rumbles like the commanding general.
Should he step out and show himself? Or let them pass? If they were truly helping, he should join them. Maybe he’d learn more if he followed for a while. But why would Thunder Rumbles ride to find him if Monti hadn’t actually been captured by enemy Indians?
He had to make a decision. Decide whose camp to join. Which side of the battle would he fight with? If only he could know for sure who was on his side. But there was no more time to ponder.
Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, pulling his horse with him.
