Cora's Pride (Wilderness Brides Book 1) (6 page)

Cora shook her head and focused on the shadows in the darkness. Nathaniel Wilder wasn’t like other men. In fact, he was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Was he the sort of man who could be trusted? It was a crazy notion. He’d already deceived her once. He wasn’t going to get a second chance.

N
athaniel stuck
the last piece of dried venison in his mouth and chewed. The meager breakfast would do little to quiet the growling in his stomach, but it would have to do. He could have set a trap or two overnight and snared some kind of animal for a meal, but he hadn’t wanted to risk a fire. It was bad enough that the Miller women had kept a fire going yesterday. He should have warned Cora to make sure to put it out once she reached her camp. He frowned. Hopefully she was smart enough on her own to realize the dangers of a fire.

He hadn’t followed her back to her camp, but had opted to remain in the forest for the night to keep an eye out, in case the Crow had decided to turn back this way. After stretching his back that had become stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard ground, Nathaniel rubbed at the aching muscles in his arms. Sleeping out in the open was nothing new, but it would have been a lot more comfortable with a bedroll or some kind of cover. At least the weather hadn’t turned bad, but that could change at any moment in the mountains. Judging by the clear sky, it promised to be another sunny day.

Nathaniel swallowed the last of the provisions he’d carried in one of his pouches, and set off toward the meadow where Cora and her family were camped. If he got an early start and helped them fix the wagon, he could point them toward Fort Hall and out of this area. Then he could go in search of his horses and catch up with the women later. Late into the night, he’d made the decision to take the women as far as the fort, just to make sure they were safe.

Now that it was morning, he questioned his plan. That woman clearly didn’t want his help. She’d been adamant about that already. She trusted him about as far as she could throw him. Nathaniel gnashed his teeth. Whether she wanted his help or not, she needed help, and sooner or later she’d realize it on her own. Question was, would someone in her family have to get hurt, or worse, before she listened to reason?

A slow smile formed on his face. Cora Miller was one determined woman. He’d never met anyone like her before. While it had been amusing, watching her stare him down with a rifle pointed at him, her bravery had also earned his respect. Underneath all that pride and bravado was a scared woman, but she hid it well.

When he'd galloped away from her camp, the thought that she’d come chasing after him on a mule to get her horse back hadn’t even entered his mind. More impressive was the fact that she’d caught up to him, after he’d carefully chosen a route that would conceal the horse’s tracks for the most part.

Nathaniel left the forest, keeping to an easy jog and following the prints made by Cora’s mule and horse. Anyone coming across those prints could easily follow them back to her wagon. With each step he took, his heart sped up, and it wasn’t because of the pace he’d set.

He cursed under his breath. If the cold, hard ground hadn’t kept him awake for much of the night, it had been memories of Cora’s soft body pinned beneath him, or the subtle hint of scented soap on her skin and in her hair. If he had any sense at all, he’d turn and head the other way, find his horse, and get himself back to Harley’s Hole as quickly as possible.

He should just forget all about Cora Miller, but no matter how many times he’d told himself what a fool he was for going after her when she’d clearly warned him to stay away, he couldn’t. While his dreams had been plagued by images of her, visions of his mother and sister, lying dead beside a wagon, had haunted him throughout the long hours of the night.

His brother, Ethan, harbored his own guilt about not being there for his folks. The twins, Trevor and Travis, had been too young to feel responsible, but Nathaniel had done nothing to help his parents when the band of river pirates had attacked their wagon along the Missouri nearly twelve years ago. He’d simply stayed out of sight, like his father had told him to do.

No. You hid like a coward.

He’d been a scared boy a dozen years ago. He was no longer a boy, and he didn’t hide from anyone anymore, either. He’d sworn he’d never be a coward again. He’d embraced life and chose to live it to the fullest each day. It’s what his mother would have wanted for him. She would be disappointed if he wasn’t going to help a group of women find their way out of the wilderness. He’d never forgive himself if he found out later that Cora and her family had been killed when he had the means to protect them. Finding his horses could wait.

His strides lengthened. Thoughts about what had happened to his folks all those years ago sent a surge of urgency through him. He shouldn’t have let Cora return to her wagon by herself. He should have insisted on going with her. He couldn’t stop from grinning. No doubt it would have caused a heated argument and perhaps even a fight. If he'd told her of his intentions, he might have had to manhandle her again.

Even though the thought of wrestling with Cora Miller sent a quick rush of heat through him and brought a smile to his face, what he’d done when he’d pulled her from the mule was no way to treat a woman, and he’d certainly never gain her trust if he forced his will on her. What he’d done yesterday had been out of necessity. Once he reached her wagon, he’d simply have to sweet talk his way into her good graces. Perhaps her friend, Anna Porter, would be of some help. She’d seemed more sensible.

Nathaniel slowed to a walk when he came to the rise that led to the meadow where Cora’s wagon was parked. The air was clear, with not a hint of woodsmoke.

“Good girl,” he muttered under his breath. The woman had some sense, after all.

When he reached the top of the rise, his brows rose. Where the wagon should have been, only green grass gaped before him. He stood motionless for a moment and took in the scene, then headed to where there had obviously been a camp yesterday afternoon.

“I’ll be damned.” He rubbed at his chin. The damp grass was trampled by hooves and people in places, and the marks of wagon ruts were easy to see. Had they managed to fix the broken wheel?

Nathaniel grinned. He laughed and rubbed at the back of his head. His respect and admiration for Cora Miller had just jumped up another notch. She must have packed up her family mighty early to be gone from here already. That didn’t put her out of danger, though.

He studied the tracks on the ground. A blind man could follow the ruts left behind by the wagon. Judging by the way the grasses hadn’t recovered from being trampled, they didn’t have much of a head start on him. At least she was headed in the right direction, if she meant to reach Fort Hall. Apparently she’d been paying attention to him.

Nathaniel sucked in a deep breath, then followed the wagon ruts. Hoof prints led away from the wagon, only to meet up with it a short distance further ahead, a clear indication that someone was riding the horse. Most certainly it was Cora, keeping an eye on her surroundings while the wagon rolled through the hills. His insides heated, the sensation unexpected, just thinking about her. He shook his head and broke into an easy run.

Not an hour later, the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the hills. A nearby flock of ravens took to the air, their hoarse caws in loud protest to the disruption of the quiet morning.

“What the hell is she doing now?” he muttered under his breath while lengthening his strides.

It didn’t take long to catch up with the wagon. The scene before him sent a jolt of dread straight through him. The wagon had stopped, surrounded by a dozen warriors. At least these Indians weren’t Crow. He slowed his stride and made no effort to conceal his approach. His lips twitched in a smile as he drew closer.

Cora sat on her gray saddle horse, her voice loud and insistent as she spoke to one of the Indians. The man spoke back in his own language, shaking his head and holding up her rifle. The woman sure had gumption, but she was going to be in a heap of trouble if she had wounded or killed one of those Indians.

The warrior who argued with Cora saw him approach first. He abruptly broke off talking to her and guided his horse toward him. Several of the others followed. A wide smile spread across the Indian’s face and he started to laugh. Nathaniel grinned broadly as he walked up to the man on horseback, holding out his hand. The warrior clasped it in his.

“Nathaniel Wilder, where is your horse?” the man asked in the language of the Shoshone. “And why do you walk behind a white man’s wagon full of women?” His smile widened, then broke out in full laughter. Several of the other men joined him.

Nathaniel shot a quick glance toward Cora, whose wide eyes were fixed on him. She didn’t look happy to see him at all. In fact, she looked rather annoyed and her glare intensified when the warriors’ laughter grew louder. Good thing these Shoshone didn’t speak English, to the best of his knowledge. If any of them did, they didn’t understand much. There was no telling what she might have already said to them. Most likely something insulting.

He returned his attention to the Indian. “Greetings, Proud Elk. It has been many moons since we last met. Harley will be glad to hear news of you.”

“Tell the old white trapper that we are well,” Proud Elk replied as his face sobered. He glanced over his shoulder at Cora. “I ask again, why are you without your horse?”

Nathaniel rubbed at the back of his neck. “I lost my horse and supplies while escaping a war party of Crow a few days ago.” He darted another glance at Cora, then smiled at the Shoshone. “I have angered my woman and she makes me walk behind as punishment.”

The men all laughed again. Nathaniel forced his face to remain contrite. The Shoshone chief handed him the rifle he’d taken from Cora. How had Proud Elk managed to get the rifle from her in the first place?

“That’s my rifle,” she called, her eyes blazing in anger. Nathaniel ignored her outburst and accepted the weapon from the Indian. The warrior leaned forward over his horse’s withers, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Harley has raised you and your brothers to be strong warriors, but it seems you still have much to learn about the ways of women. A man must be strong and stand up for himself, or he will never find peace in his own tipi. Be a leader to your women, or they won’t respect you as a warrior.”

Nathaniel nodded, keeping a straight face. “I hear your words, and will follow your advice.”

The warrior nodded. “I believe we have found your horses.” He motioned to one of his men, who disappeared between a stand of trees, only to return shortly with two horses. Nathaniel’s horses. He rode up and handed the reins to Nathaniel. “They walked into our camp last night.”

“I won’t forget this,” Nathaniel said. Although he might have to bear the taunts from his brothers later when word got out that he’d lost his horses, this was far better than having to go look for them, or steal them back from the Crow.

The older warrior nodded. His lips twitched. “Harley has saved the life of my brother once, and has been good to my people. His sons are following in his footsteps. Take your horses, Nathaniel Wilder, and lead your women, especially that one.” He nudged his chin toward Cora. “A woman who shows no fear and has much spirit can be good for a young warrior’s heart and body, but you must guide her with a firm hand.” He held up a fist for emphasis. “I trust you will not be walking in shame behind her any longer.”

Nathaniel shook his head. He suppressed a grin. “I think I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, checking his horse’s saddle and gear. He held Cora’s rifle, and checked that his own was still in the scabbard.

“Tell Harley I send greetings.” With those words, Proud Elk held up his hand and nudged his horse forward. His warriors followed. “If there are Crow in the area, we will find them,” he added before he galloped away.

Nathaniel adjusted the sacks of supplies that hung from his pack horse’s back. Nothing seemed to be missing, but he’d have to unload his animal soon and give the horse some relief. For now, redistributing the weight of the load would have to do. He patted the animal’s neck, then mounted his saddle horse and rode toward the wagon.

The boy’s head poked out from the back, his eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “You chased the Indians away,” he called.

Nathaniel rode up to the back of the wagon, catching a glimpse of two girls hidden in the shadows of the canvas.

“No, they left on their own.”

“I’d like my rifle back, and then you can be on your way, too.”

Nathaniel’s head drifted to Cora, who stared at him with ice in her eyes. She rode up to him and held out her hand.

“Cora,” someone hissed from the front of the wagon. No doubt it was the other woman, Anna.

Cora snapped a hasty look at the wagon, then back at Nathaniel. “I told you not to follow me.”

“Well, you should be glad that I did, or you might be on your way to Proud Elk’s Shoshone village as his guest,” Nathaniel shot back. At least she could be a little grateful.

“Were they the ones you warned me about yesterday?” she demanded. “Didn’t look like they were all that hostile toward you.”

Nathaniel guided his horse closer to her. His saddle creaked when he leaned toward her. “Lady, I just told you those were Shoshone. If they had been Crow, you and the rest of your family would be dead right now. Shoshone are a lot more hospitable, but they still don’t like getting shot at.”

Her stare wavered for a second, then she raised her chin. “What did that Indian say to you?”

Nathaniel broke out in a smile. If he told her everything, she was liable to pull out her claws and scratch his eyes out. “Proud Elk admired your fearlessness and your spirit.”

She frowned. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Why were they laughing?”

Nathaniel rubbed at his chin to conceal his grin. “Because they thought it was funny that I was being punished by you and made to walk behind your wagon. They felt sorry for me, from one man to another.”

He almost regretted his next action. Holding out his hand, he offered her the rifle. Cora’s eyes softened in surprise, but the look disappeared almost instantly. He’d have missed it completely had he blinked.

“I’m not your enemy, Cora Miller,” he said under his breath, quiet enough so that only she could hear.