Mercy guided the horse through woods she could traverse blind—a blessing and a curse, that. She knew the best hiding places should she and Livvy need to take cover, but she also knew the way so well that it gave her mind free rein to wander off to dark corners. If those Indians snubbed the decade-long peace between her people and theirs, tore right across that river, and discovered Elias, well…He’d proven his strength time and again, but not even he could withstand so many men set on killing. Would he end up being just one more person she couldn’t say goodbye to?

Behind her, the thud of hooves trotted close, and Livvy drew up alongside her. It was strange to see the girl riding alone, a sharp reminder that Elias had yet to catch up to them. The girl’s blond hair frizzled in a tangle. Dirt smudged across her brow, coating everything, really. Her gown hung ripped off one shoulder, her skirts tattered at the hem. The girl had lived a lifetime over the past several months, yet a certain innocence remained in her wide blue eyes.

“Miss Mercy?” she whispered.

Mercy nodded, silent. While it was unlikely anyone would hear should she speak aloud, the scout in her held her tongue on a short leash.

“God’s watching over us, ma’am.”

The words shivered down her back as if God Himself told her His gaze was upon her. Was this girl flesh and blood? Or was she an angel sent for encouragement? Either way, human or not, Livvy was a godsend. The girl dropped back to follow as before, but Mercy pressed on with a strange peace, and all the while she prayed that God was watching over Elias too.

Veering off on a connecting deer trace, she turned her thoughts as well, trying to forget the danger he was in, forget the passion in his kiss…and especially forget that every step of her horse drew her nearer to her village.

The one destroyed weeks ago.

Sorrow pressed down, as weighty as the sullen skies overhead. Part of her wanted to gallop toward home. The other part wanted to wheel about and ride fast and far. There was no escaping the implications of either one. And the more ground her horse ate up, the stronger the urge to slip down and weep hot tears onto the sacred earth of her ancestors.

A little farther on, she pulled on her reins, halting the mare for nothing more than a gut feeling. Birds still sang in the late afternoon air, clouds yet blanketed the sky, muffling light and sound. A squirrel scampered in front of her, and her mount swished her tail. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But even so, she turned her horse about and, with a sweep of her hand, directed Livvy to get behind her.

Elias forced his gaze to remain on the warrior’s eyes instead of the tomahawk—one of the few things he’d actually learned from his father. Timing was more than everything now. It was his life. Drop too soon, and the man would rush him, hacking into him before he could rise. Too late, and his skull would be split from the flying ax.

So he waited. Studying. Calculating. Anticipating that one heartbeat when an almost imperceptible narrowing of the warrior’s eyes would give away his throw. God, have mercy. It was a terrible thing to stare death in the face with nothing to rely upon except a twitch.

And the warrior knew it. His sharp teeth gleamed white against his black-painted face, his lips pulled into a macabre smile. Then his eyes widened.

Widened?

The man’s jaw dropped as if the joint came unhinged—and an arrowhead pierced through the middle of his chest, shot from behind.

Elias flattened to the ground, expecting a rain of more deadly projectiles. Had Red Bear changed his mind and even now he and his warriors were breaching the river?

But not one whizz of fletching cut through the air. No thwunks of arrows hit tree trunks or dirt. No splashes or war cries or anything. He lifted his head, listening hard.

The sparrows started singing.

He rose on shaky legs and hunkered back to the barberries. Picking his way inside the prickly shrubs, he went only deep enough to spy the other side of the river.

Not one warrior remained.

He watched for a long time, staring and hoping, afraid to thank God and afraid not to. The last of his battle jitters shook through him in waves, and still he stared, until he was convinced the killers truly had retreated for good.

Indeed, thank You, God.

He emerged from the greenery and blew out a long breath, grateful for life and air and hope. Searching the ground, he spied Mercy’s trail, then began to follow it, thanking God all the more. At least there wouldn’t be any tomahawks at their backs for the rest of the journey.

But a frown weighted his brow as he trekked along. No tomahawks, indeed, for the danger would be much closer.

He’d be transporting a deadly poisonous weapon on his body.

Far off in the distance, a stick cracked, and Mercy held her breath. Her horse shied sideways a step, and she narrowed her eyes, studying the greens and browns and…there. A single figure sprinted toward them, hardly more than a smear of a dirtied linen hunting frock and the bobbing of a dark-haired head. Relief sagged her shoulders. Elias. And by the looks of it, no angry warriors trailed him.

Nudging the horse with her heels, she trotted ahead, closing the distance between them.

He stopped as she pulled up in front of him. Dampened hair curled fierce against his temples and sweat dripped in rivulets down his forehead.

While he caught his breath, she slid down from her mount. “They are gone?”

“They are,” he huffed out.

She tossed a smile over her shoulder to where Livvy landed on the ground behind her. “You were right. God is watching over us.”

The girl’s grin beamed brilliant in the gray afternoon.

Mercy turned back to Elias, this time searching for any sign of injury. “Are you well?”

“Just winded.” He winced, belying his brave words. “I am getting too old for this.”

“You sound like Matthew.” The bittersweet truth struck her hard. While she yet missed her dear friend, the man in front of her, the one who’d just risked his life once again for her sake, was already filling spaces inside her that Matthew’s friendship had never touched.

As if her mount agreed with Elias’s words, the horse blew out a snort. Elias reached up and patted the mare’s nose. “The horses need a break as well as I. Not much day left anyway. We will camp here.”

Her gaze drifted from trunk to trunk, rock to rock. Each one familiar. So many memories. Oh, the dreams she would have tonight should she close her eyes on this patch of land. But in some small way, this might be her best chance to say goodbye to her people, to her father…to her mother. To lay to rest all the things she’d never spoken aloud, by chance or by choice.

“I…” She swallowed. How to say all that?

Elias cut her a glance.

She straightened her shoulders. The best way to fight an enemy was to run at it headlong. Had her father not taught her that well?

“My village—the one destroyed—is not far. I will take a horse and return. There are some things…I must…let go of.” She stuttered to a halt.

Elias stepped toward her, reaching out as if he’d pull her into his arms, but a whisper away, he stopped. Concern ran deep and blue in his eyes. For a moment, he worked his jaw, seeming to fight his own battle of words. “Are you sure about this?”

“No.” She reached to finger the locket at her throat, the smooth stone a reminder of the strength of her mother. “But it is something I must do.”

He nodded slowly. “All right. Then we will come along.” He turned to the girl. “Livvy, mount—”

“I go alone,” Mercy blurted. As much comfort as his presence would bring, this was something personal, something sacrosanct…something her very being knew that only God should witness.

He shook his head. “You know that is not safe, even with those men turning back.”

She rested her hand on his sleeve, and the muscles beneath tensed at her touch. “Please, Elias,” she whispered.

His gaze slid from her hold to her face, softening momentarily. “Fine.” And then stern furrows lined his brow. “But if you are not back before dark, I am coming after you.”

Elias kneaded a muscle in his neck as he watched Mercy ride off into the maze of trees and continued to stare long after she disappeared. He understood her need to slay whatever demons from her past tormented her. He’d had to slay his own a few years back when he’d first bent a knee toward God. He just didn’t like it. Not out here. Not alone. He half-hoped she’d turn around and come back.

Feet shuffled behind him, reminding him Mercy wasn’t his only concern. He pivoted, and pale blue eyes blinked up into his.

“Are you all right, Mr. Elias?”

“I am well, Livvy.” He smiled down at her. “And you? This has been quite the trek. How are you faring?”

“Well…” Her gaze lowered, and she toed the dirt. “I am rather hungry.”

“My stomach is pinched a bit tight too.” Taking care not to strain the wound still healing on his chest, he slung off the shoulder bag carrying what remained of their provisions. “How about we remedy that?”

He led the girl off the trail to a patch of maidenhair ferns growing amidst random boulders. He sank onto one, she onto another, and he fished out a piece of jerky for each of them.

“Thank you.” Livvy bowed her head a moment before taking a bite.

He tore off a chunk of his own meat, marveling. Lord, but this girl was made of strong grace. How many other young ones would not only take such hardships in stride, but remember to thank God for them as well?

After swallowing, she lowered her piece of venison to her lap. A small frown followed the lines of a dirt smudge on her brow. “Mr. Elias?”

“Aye?”

“Are you going to marry Miss Mercy?”

His mouthful of meat went down sideways, lodging as crooked in his throat as the girl’s question. He jerked a fist to his mouth and coughed into it. Very funny. Was this God’s idea of retribution for all the times as a child he’d flung awkwardly candid queries at his grandfather? Clearing his throat, he lowered his hand. “Well now, that is a big question.”

“My papa always says forthright speech is the godliest.”

“Your father is a wise man.” He dared another bite of jerky. Hopefully he’d dodged the girl’s curiosity by getting her to think on her father. Whoever the man was, he surely must be desperate to get her back, for she was unlike any child he’d ever known.

“So are you?” Livvy’s blue gaze pinned him in place. “Going to marry Miss Mercy, that is.”

He shoved the whole chunk of jerky into his mouth, stalling for time. Despite his hesitation, Livvy’s stare did not waver.

The lump of meat traveled down to his stomach like a rock. No. There was no way by heaven or sea he’d give this girl an answer when he did not even want to consider the question. He scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “You think I should?”

“Without a doubt.” Gravity sobered her tone.

He hid a smile. Was this what Mercy had been like as a young girl? “What makes you think Miss Mercy would want to marry me?”

Livvy bent forward, leaning close, her long blond hair hanging like a windblown curtain. “I think she needs you.”

His brows shot high. “She is a self-reliant woman. What makes you think she has need of anyone?”

“Well, she has not told me, not outright, but…” Livvy straightened, craning her neck to look past him toward the path where Mercy had disappeared. Apparently satisfied, she faced him again. “I think she is hiding a whole lot of hurt. Something to do with her mother.”

Elias rubbed his hands along his thighs, thinking back on the many conversations he’d had with her. Had she ever mentioned her mother? Try as he might to remember, nothing came to mind. Shoot, he hadn’t even known the woman was kin to a mighty Mohawk sachem. He shook his head. “Even if that is true, Livvy, only God can heal hurts down deep.”

“Oh, I know, but I think you help her forget. Miss Mercy smiles more when she is with you. My papa says love is that which makes you smile, even when you’re tired.” She leaned forward again, this time a queer gleam lighting her eyes. “I think she loves you, Mr. Elias.”

The girl’s words hit him broadside. Not that he hadn’t tasted Mercy’s need in the kiss they had shared, but love? The thought was too big to wrap his arms around. And even if she did, would she truly give up her life of far-flung freedom to settle down with the likes of him?

Whatever the answer, this was not the time or place to even consider it. He shot to his feet and stalked past Livvy. “I will get some water. After that jerky, you will soon thirst.”

“Mr. Elias?”

Ah, no. He’d not be pulled back into that bees’ hive of a conversation. He glanced over his shoulder, saying nothing.

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word of this to Miss Mercy. Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret?”

Her pert little nose scrunched up. “That you love her too.”

He turned and stalked off. Livvy had far too many years inside her to be stuck inside a little girl’s body.