She eyed the spot, then headed that direction. He followed her, doing his best to keep his limp from being noticeable. As she sank onto one of the traces that stuck out about seat level, she seemed to wilt. Such a pretty thing, but exhaustion fanned lines away from her eyes.
He turned away, slapping his good leg to call Barney to his side. Not that the dog obeyed his commands very well. Aaron usually left him alone, but he didn't want the animal to stay and make this woman nervous.
He should have asked her name. They would have plenty of time for those niceties later, though. Ten long days on the bench beside her. Not the way he'd envisioned this last trip before winter.
He could endure it. God must have sent him to take her to safety at the time she needed it most. But was he the right man for the task?
He could only pray that the babe didn't come before they reached Doc Micah.
CHAPTER2
Not only could Katie Barlow barely draw a full breath, but she desperately needed a chamber pot in this mountain wilderness. Hiding behind a large rock would have to do.
She eyed the retreating form of the man she’d found standing beside poor Mr. Driscoll. What an awful, horrendous event. Mr. Driscoll had reluctantly agreed to wait while she tended to business behind a rock down the slope, and she’d barely stepped from the wagon before the scream sounded. She could still hear the wildcat’s cry as the beast leapt from a tree onto both mules’ backs.
The animals brayed and leapt into a run, doing their best to shed the unwanted creature before it mangled their flesh. The hill hadn’t slowed them down in the least, nor had Mr. Driscoll’s shouts and urgent pulling on the reins.
And now… She allowed herself a glance over the wrecked wagon, and her gaze snagged on the white hair of that kind old man. A burn crept up to her nose and eyes, and she pulled her attention away. Was it her fault? If she hadn’t asked to stop, would the wildcat have struck a moving wagon?
Though guilt burned within her, the personal matters she’d not yet tended to demanded attention. Again. Did all women go through this? At least the overturned wagon offered a sizeable shield to protect her from view.
By the time the jingle of harness sounded in the distance, she’d stepped back around the conveyance and eyed the corner where goods spilled out. There was her carpet bag peeking from under the oilskin. That satchel she hated.
She could still remember the day Neil brought home the awful bag. His eyes brimmed with gusto for what he said had always been a secret dream. He’d gone and placed his business in the hands of its board of directors, announcing they would move to the Montana Territory. Some man he’d shared a luncheon with had planted the retched spark, not realizing how the raging fire would consume the staid man her parents once insisted she marry.
She’d tried to warn Neil that moving to this wilderness was preposterous. A hair-brained notion from too many greens and vinegar. He had no notion of the hard life out here. But he’d given her that look and squared his shoulders.
When he did that, she’d known there was no chance to convince him. Saying more would only set his decision firmer.
So she’d packed her clothing in a single trunk and loaded only the things that mattered most to her in that rose embroidered bag. Neil and the servants had overseen the packing of household goods since she’d had no idea what to take to a homestead in a valley so far away it wasn’t even in the United States.
Neil promised this new life wouldn’t be a toil for her, that she’d enjoy the adventure. The young couple he’d hired would handle the hard parts of keeping house in the wilderness—Lucy for the house and Sampson outdoors.
Of course, Neil hadn’t counted on the pair slipping away in the night only a week after the completion of their cabin and barn. News of gold in Helena must have lured them.
Still, Katie had vowed to be a dutiful wife, so she learned to cook the animals Neil hunted and brought her freshly skinned. Not in her wildest imaginings had she thought her life would dissolve to such a disaster.
But she’d managed. She’d held her tongue and pressed back her tears.
And then the baby…and the tears refused to be restrained. How could she bring a new life into this loneliness? How could she love her child well while feeling so miserable?
It wasn’t until she found Neil by the chopping block, his eyes lifeless and an ax still partially buried in his leg—too much blood spilling out, running in rivulets over the frozen ground around him—that she’d finally found the hope of leaving this place. Even now that image wrapped icy fingers around her throat.
This land was too much. She’d known it from that day when Neil laid the carpet bag at her feet, and now death had convinced her husband too.
This was her opportunity to leave. To return to a civilization where at least she knew the dangers. She could prepare herself for the hurtful remarks of women bent only on raising their own status among the fashionable set. For that matter, she could choose to stay home if she so desired, now that no insistent mother or success-minded husband squared his shoulders and commanded she play her role.
Now, at last, she could make her own choices.
All she had to do was get to Fort Benton and find the doctor Mr. Driscoll had promised resided there.
Dear Mr. Driscoll. She swallowed the fresh sting as her gaze slipped over to him. His kind face had made her believe God finally sent a nod her way.
And now this. Perhaps she’d been cursed to die in this land too.
The stranger limped up beside her and stopped a few steps away. What had he said his name was? Aaron Tall? No.Long.
Aaron Long propped his hands at his waist and spoke in a grim voice. “I’ll get started on a grave. Pull out anything that’s yours from his wagon. And keep thinking about where Driscoll picked up this load from. I’d like to take on as much as we can carry and get it back to the owners once I drop you at Settler’s Fort.”
