But it was.
The fur overcoat…a tuft of graying hair protruding at one end of the form and two boot toes poking out at the other…
Aaron swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.Lord, why?A death like this felt so senseless.
He forced his feet forward. The man might not be dead, though his instincts told him it was true. Still…he had to check.
His weak leg protested as he lowered to a sitting position to reach the fellow’s neck, and he wove two fingers through the growth of beard to feel a pulse. Nothing fluttered under his touch.
As he focused on any movement, a growl sounded from the road.
He jerked his gaze to where Barney stared. A rise in the road kept him from seeing what lay beyond.
A sound slipped through the air. Something like…breathing?
Aaron scrambled to push up to his feet, using his rifle like a cane as he found his balance.
The sound grew louder, like someone puffing as they climbed the hill. The driver’s wife? His belly tightened. The last thing he wanted was to tell a woman her husband had passed.
He positioned his rifle at the ready, but not yet aimed, as he waited for the stranger to reveal herself.
A blonde head showed first, then the pretty face of a female. Far younger than he would expect to be matched with this white-haired freighter.
As her shoulders came clear, she halted to scan the area. Those sounds had definitely been breathing, and they grew even louder now as she sucked in gulps of air.
The moment her gaze took in the wagon, her features crumpled. She scanned the rig lying on its side and the goods fallen out, her jaw slowly dropping open.
She still hadn't seen Aaron, so he shifted a little to catch her eye. He didn't want to startle her any more than she would be already.
Her gaze shot to him, her eyes widening and her jaw snapping shut. The moment her attention dipped to his rifle, he lowered it to point at the ground beside him.
"I won't hurt you, ma'am. I'm here to help."
She regarded him with a wary look. "Who are you? Where's Mr. Driscoll?"
Did she mean her husband? Or maybe she was simply a passenger he was carrying to Fort Benton. Aaron didn't haul people, as a rule, only goods. But a lot of other freighters didn't mind a companion if it meant a bit of extra money for their trouble.
He kept his voice as gentle as he could manage. "If you mean the driver, I'm afraid he didn't make it." He motioned toward the body in the grass.
As she took in the form, her pretty features twisted in horror. A noise came from her that sounded like a half-moan, half-grunt.
Then she slipped out of view.
Panic made him lurch forward. Had she stumbled? He couldn't remember how steep that slope was.
"Ma'am? Are you all right?" He hobbled as fast as he could manage, and the top of her head came into view again as he neared the rise.
She hadn't fallen but sat on the hillside.
He slowed his approach. She might need smelling salts or water. He was the last person who should be comforting a distraught female, but he couldn't very well climb back up in his wagon and ride away.
That new realization slowly webbed its way through his mind, wrapping around him like a noose rope. The driver was dead. The wagon damaged. The team run away.
This woman had no way to reach help unless Aaron took her there.
Lord, what are You doing to me?He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat.
But he couldn't stand here bemoaning the reality. Best get on with things.
