Jacob blinked. The man looked at him expectantly, his bright blue eyes steady and clear in a deeply wrinkled face, his gray beard falling in riotous waves down his chest. Jacob cleared his throat. “Who are you? And where am I? What happened?”
“I’ll give you the short answer to each of those questions: My name is Obadiah Bailey; you are in my humble abode in the Wind River Mountains, and I found you out cold, out in the cold at the bottom of a gulch not two hundred yards from my front door.”
“My horse?”
“He’s just fine, don’t you worry. Once I got you all fixed up, I tracked him up the creek bed and brought him back here to share the lean-to with Fernand. They’re enjoyin’ foragin’ for the valley bottom grasses as we speak.”
“Fernand?”
“My mule.”
“You let them wander out there alone?”
“Don’t you worry, Dantès will look after them.”
“Who’s Dantès?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough.” He busied himself stoking the fire and hanging a pot of snow over it to melt. “Now, I’ll ask a few questions of my own. Who are you? How did you come here? And what are you runnin’ from?”
The last question caught Jacob off guard. “What am I runnin’ from?”
“Yes. Ain’t no man come this far into the mountains without somethin’ chasin’ him.” Obadiah went still, his blue eyes losing their focus, staring off into a place far beyond the log walls in front of him. “Lord knows I did.”
Jacob scowled and muttered sourly: “The whole point is that she’s not chasin’ me.”
Obadiah’s gaze snapped back to Jacob, bright and intense. “Ah, a woman! ‘The Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a help meet for him.”’”
“Well, I’m very much alone now, so thank you kindly for the comfortin’ words,” Jacob growled.
“I may not be what the good Lord meant for a help meet, but I can help meet a need or two,” he said, grinning and proffering a strip of dried meat. He was missing a few teeth. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”
Jacob took the meat, his hunger suddenly ravenous, and tore off a chunk with his teeth. “Jacob Munroe.”
The old man whistled. “Jacob? Well, if that isn’t aname. The question is: will you remain a Jacob, or will you be an Israel?”
Jacob furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Jacob, meanin’: to follow behind. Israel: to strive with God.”
Jacob just stared, swallowing the last of the meat.
“Ah”—Obadiah waved a dismissive hand—“plenty of time to talk about that. More importantly, I believe you need somethin’ more to eat.”
The trapper bustled around the room, collecting various items and throwing things into the pot of melted snow, humming jauntily the whole time. When a rustic stew bubbled happily, Obadiah grabbed the chair and plunked it down in front of Jacob. “Now, let me see that leg.”
With great effort and more than a little of Obadiah’s help, Jacob lay back on the bed. The old man rolled up a hide to prop him up, then set to work unwrapping the splint. Jacob could do nothing but brood. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt his ribs again. The same side he injured rescuing Kate! He didn’t think they were cracked this time, merely bruised. Unbidden, he remembered her gentle hands winding bandages around his chest, his skin on fire from her touch. His nostrils flared. He was angry. Angry at Kate for rejecting him. Angry that she had made him get lost in these mountains. Angry to be laid up and useless yet again. But most of all, angry at himself for losing his head to a woman so thoroughly that it drove him to become an absolute fool.
Obadiah unwound the last strip of rags and Jacob’s heart fell. His leg was a solid mass of bruises from his knee to where the blood pooled in his foot and swollen to almost twice its size. The trapper’s face looked concerned. “I tried to set it best I could, but I think it’s broken in a couple places. It’s gonna take a while to heal, and still, it might not be what it was. But with the Lord’s grace, you’ll be able to walk again. Praise God there ain’t any signs of infection yet.”
“Not sure what God has to do with it,” Jacob said, gritting his teeth.
“He has everythin’ to do with it! ‘All things were made by him; and without him was not any thin’ made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not,’” he quoted.
“Listen,” Jacob spat, “it’s pretty clear that God doesn’t care one whit about me. If He’s even there, He’s taken everythin’ I’ve ever cared about and left me in the dirt. And that’s not exactly someone that I’d like to know. Look at me! Look at this mess! Does this look like a life of blessings to you? I have nothin’. I have no one. And I don’t even know if I’ll be able to walk again! A whole lot of good God has done for me.”
Obadiah stared at him with his bright blue eyes. He recited softly: “‘Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: that the trial of your faith, bein’ much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearin’ of Jesus Christ.’”
“Listen, Obadiah,” Jacob said through clenched teeth, “I appreciate you helpin’ me and all that, but let’s just keep Jesus Christ out of this. If all He’s given to the people who follow Him is heartache, I’ll kindly make my own way.”
