Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] (34 page)

Elizabeth heard a hard slap.

“How dare you make this out to be Thomas’s fault! If you hadn’t filled the boys’ heads with tales of tracking and hunting, this wouldn’t have—”

“Rachel!” McPherson’s hushed tone was harsh. “You’re out of line. You know better than anyone that when Thomas got it into his mind to do something, nothing could change it. You miss Thomas. . . .” His voice softened, and Elizabeth could imagine his expression doing the same. “We all do. But trying to blame this on Danny is wrong, and you know better. They need to get on the trail, so I want you to . . .”

Soft crying masked whatever else McPherson said, and Elizabeth closed the door, feeling guilty for having eavesdropped, while also grateful to finally know what had happened between Daniel and Rachel, painful as it was.

A knock sounded, and she opened the door again.

Daniel slowly raised his head. “Morning . . .”

“Morning, Daniel.” She didn’t ask how he was. The droop of his shoulders, and what she’d overheard, told her well enough.

“We leave in an hour, at sunup. Josiah insists he can travel, and Doc Brookston says he thinks he can make it, stubborn as he is.” A smile colored his tone, though none touched his face.

“I’ll be ready.” She started to close the door but paused when he made no move to leave.

He sighed, and the words seemed to come hard for him. “Something else . . . before we set out. I want you to know that I’ll do my best to get you to Mesa Verde . . . so you can meet this deadline of yours. But if either of you shows signs of not being able to make it, I’ll turn back. Not out of spite and not because I disagreed at first with you making this trip, but because I won’t risk anything happening to you—to either of you. Are we clear on that?”

She nodded once. “Perfectly.”

“I’ll go load up.”

She penned a hurried letter to her father, telling him she was fine but preoccupied with settling in and with her “new job.” And that she might be too busy to write for a while. James agreed to mail the letter for her. She would write her father again when they reached Mesa Verde, so he wouldn’t worry over not hearing from her.

An hour later they were saddled and ready to embark. Dingy clouds filtered the pale sunlight, and a feathery, persistent snow drifted down, adding to the night’s accumulation. Daniel gripped the reins of the two packhorses. She’d offered to lead one, but he had declined in a tone that left no room for negotiation. For now, at least.

She looked at Josiah beside her, concerned, despite Brookston’s permission for him to travel. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Sure I am, ma’am. Like I said at breakfast, I wouldn’t be missin’ this for the world, Miz Westbrook. And I do fine. Won’t be no problem for Mr. Ranslett, or for you. I give you my word on that.”

“If there’s one thing you could never be, Josiah, it’s a problem to me. Thank you . . . for doing this.”

His smile stretched wide. He’d eaten a hearty breakfast, and Doc Brookston had assured her his injuries weren’t life threatening. She’d overheard Brookston telling Daniel that stopping early for the first few days would be best, to ensure Josiah got enough rest.

McPherson fingered a strand of leather hanging from the bridle of Daniel’s horse. “Send word when you get there. And along the way, if you can.”

Daniel nodded. “We will.”

“And remember what I said to you . . . earlier.”

Daniel dodged his gaze. “I will.” Then he glanced back at the house. “Tell the boys I’ll bring them each a—” His eyes narrowed. “Just tell them I said to be good for their mother.”

The cabin door opened, and as if on cue, the boys ran out, coats half buttoned, boot laces trailing. Rachel stood inside watching, arms clutched over her chest.

“Uncle Daniel!”

“You almost left without seein’ us!”

Mitchell reached him first, but Kurt was fast on his heels. Daniel jumped down and caught them both in a fierce hug. He kissed their foreheads.

“Will you bring us back a bear claw?” Kurt’s eyes went wide.

“Or maybe one from a mountain lion?” Mitchell’s expression said he clearly thought his idea outweighed his younger brother’s.

“I’ll bring something back for both of you, but only if you promise to be good . . . and to help your mother.”

“We will, Uncle Daniel.”

“Uh-huh, we will.”

Mitchell approached Josiah’s horse. “Me and my brother, we’ll take care of Moonshine for you, sir.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Mitchell.” Josiah touched the rim of his hat. “He too old to be goin’ on a trip like this. He do better stayin’ here with you.”

Daniel tousled the boys’ hair before climbing into the saddle again. Turning to McPherson, he whispered something low, then gave a sharp whistle that brought Beau running. Daniel glanced back and Elizabeth read his unspoken question. She nodded, sensing his apprehension and excitement, and sharing them both.

He formed the lead with the two packhorses, and she followed him with Josiah behind. At the end of the road, she turned back to see McPherson’s hand raised in farewell, and Rachel’s covering her heart.

The morning passed with little conversation other than Daniel’s occasional warning of icy spots on the trail, which suited Elizabeth fine. She used the time to sort out the jumble of emotions inside her. Was she prepared for this? What would she do if her efforts for the position at the
Chronicle
weren’t enough?

The morning breeze gave way to an afternoon wind that blew frigid against them the higher they rode. Beau’s energetic romp finally slowed, and Daniel stopped, brushed him clean of snow, and put him in a pouch on the side of his saddle. It looked like it had been made especially for him. Beau poked his head out the top, contented as could be, and Elizabeth could tell they’d traveled this way before.

A tremor worked its way through her and she shuddered. Not traveling with camera equipment meant faster progress, both from the standpoint of ease in transporting the load and also from not stopping to capture images. But if she got to Mesa Verde and her new equipment wasn’t waiting, the trip would have been made in vain. She simply had to trust that the freighter Daniel had hired would prove reliable.

A fork emerged in the trail and Daniel chose left. Every instinct within her told her the other way was correct.

She read the dingy sky, trying to decipher the sun’s position. “Are you sure this is the way to the pass?”

The pace slowed. Daniel stopped and turned in the saddle. “Yes, ma’am, this is the way to the pass. Unless you carved out another one during the night.” His manner not inviting a response, he faced forward and continued up the trail.

Elizabeth prodded her horse but glanced behind her at Josiah, expecting commiseration, but instead got a look that said, “That’s what you get for asking.”

The snow grew deeper the farther they climbed, until it finally reached the horses’ knees. She hoped Daniel would stop soon for lunch and build a fire. Not only was she cold but she wanted a cup of tea. Her nerves were on edge and a cup would bring the calm she needed.

They continued on up the mountain, the swathe of white-billowed sky narrowing above them as sheer rock walls rose higher on either side. Daniel reined in. He studied the cliffs above, then dismounted and tied the packhorses to a branch.

“The pass is just ahead.” Voice quiet, he eyed the highest point on the walls. “You both stay here. I’m going to ride ahead a short ways. Now would be a good time to eat lunch, if you’re hungry. Be sure and drink your water, whether you’re thirsty or not. Your body needs it for the altitude. No time for a fire. We need to get through the pass and get another four or five miles behind us before making camp for the night.” He looked at her. “You warm enough?”

Frustrated about not being able to fix her tea, Elizabeth nodded, lying. She was frozen to the bone but wasn’t about to complain. Not after she’d made such a point of telling him yesterday while at the general store that she had the latest in travel gear for her and Josiah—the warmest coats, boots, and wraps available. Apparently the New York manufacturer hadn’t field-tested their apparel in the Rockies. Even with the gloves Daniel had recommended, her fingers ached with cold.

He looked back at Josiah. “You warm enough?”

“Yes, sir, this fur’s right toasty, thank you.” Daniel and Dr. Brookston had wrapped a bearskin around Josiah once he was saddled, tucking it around his legs for added protection from the wind and snow. Elizabeth was envious of his warmth.

Daniel rubbed Beau’s neck before climbing into the saddle.

She flexed the fingers on her left hand for warmth, hardly able to feel them. It especially hurt to flex her right, with the bandage. “If you want, just call back to us if the pass is clear and we’ll ride on through. No sense in you riding all the way back.” Or in them sitting waiting and her freezing to death.

A gleam lit Daniel’s green eyes as though she’d said something amusing. “I’d suggest you not call out anything while I go through there . . . unless you want to come back and dig me and Beau out midsummer.” He winked at her. “And if you don’t mind, get any sneezing done before I start through there too.”

Feeling completely incompetent, and knowing she appeared that way, Elizabeth studied the layers of snow cascading over the peaks.

“Watch the wind patterns.” Daniel’s tone was attentive, but not in the least patronizing. “See how it swoops down over and through the pass. The wind lays the snow flake by flake on the edge of the mountain, creating a kind of shelf. Only there’s nothing to support it from beneath. It’s frozen during the winter so it doesn’t carry the same danger then. But when warmer weather comes and the layers melt and refreeze, melt and refreeze, it weakens the—”

“Structure of the shelf. Yes, thank you, Daniel. I understand.” Her tone came out more sweet sounding than she’d intended. She wasn’t angry as much as she was embarrassed. She’d assumed those were rock ledges where the snow had settled but should have known better. “That was foolish of me. I’m sorry.” The admittance didn’t gall her as much as her lapse in memory did. She’d read about avalanches and had even seen pictures of the aftermath.

Daniel held her gaze for longer than necessary, and then his focus drifted upward to her forehead. “No need to get angry, Elizabeth. I just wanted to make sure you understood.”

“I’m not angry, Daniel.”

His expression said he begged to differ, and she gradually realized what he was looking at. The blasted vein on her forehead!

Tossing her a smile, he rode slowly down the path and disappeared around the bend.

“You sure you warm enough, Miz Westbrook?” Josiah whispered from behind her.

Elizabeth found herself not wanting to turn for fear her saddle would squeak and kill them all. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You needs to tell him if you’s cold, ma’am.” He kept his voice hushed. “He gots another one of them furs packed in the back. He get it out for you if you just ask him.”

“I’ll be fine once we’re moving again. Don’t worry about me.” She was glad when he didn’t say anything else. She reached behind her into her saddlebag and her hand brushed against the bottle of syrup. She withdrew it, then looked back at Josiah, who was eating a cold biscuit stuffed with sausage, compliments of Rachel, and studying the rock ledges overhead.

She untwisted the cap and took a quick drink, then another. The syrup burned a familiar path down her throat and, within minutes, something inside her responded. She felt herself begin to relax. She reached back for her own biscuit with sausage and ate a few bites, staring above, waiting, listening for the slightest crack or snap.

Relief flooded her when Daniel reappeared. Dressed in his customary buckskin and with his dark hair brushing his shoulders, he looked part renegade native, part wounded soldier returning from battle, and desire stirred inside her. Her mouth went dry at where her thoughts took her next. What would it be like to be close to him, to be held by him? To be loved by him? He’d told her she was one beautiful woman
,
and she wanted to believe that he found her attractive. But at times, she knew things she said didn’t sit well with him. Yet she said them anyway. It was almost as if she couldn’t
not
say them.

Dwelling on how different they were, the longing inside her ebbed. Their worlds held little in common, and regardless of his heritage, this was his home now. The mountains, the pristine wilderness. While hers waited a world apart back in the hustle and bustle of Washington.

The stern set of his mouth was telling. “Once we start through, we stay together. If I raise my arm, you stop. Keep a firm grip on your reins and follow my path. Don’t wander to either side. The snow’s masking a ditch on the right, and another one farther down a ways on the left. Any questions?”

Elizabeth couldn’t have spit if her life depended on it. “How long will it take us to get through?”

“In summer, Beau and I fly through here in no more than three minutes flat. But today, we’ll just take it slow and steady. If you need to talk, keep it to a whisper. You’ll hear cracking as we’re going through, but don’t jump to conclusions. It’s just the ice.” He retrieved the packhorses.

Elizabeth shifted in her saddle, a dreadful headline forming in her mind. Something about a
mature
woman’s newspaper career being cut short due to overzealousness. Pushing the thought away, she prodded her horse forward and followed Daniel.

Snow drifts threatened to reach chest high on the horses in places, but she kept the pace and path Daniel set, checking occasionally on Josiah behind her, who kept watch on the walls of snow above.

Daniel pointed high up to the right, and balanced on boulders nearly forty feet above were two bighorn sheep, just standing there, staring down. And her with no camera. Not that she could have stopped if she had it. The sheep leapt from rock to rock, with as little effort as children playing a game of hopscotch.

Treacherous and unforgiving, this land held beauty unimaginable to those who’d never experienced it. She could have lived her whole life and never seen such wonders, and would have been the lesser for it. Deprived in a way she never would have known. But God had known, and he’d led her here to experience it, to fulfill her dreams.