When he returned with enough branches to see them through a meal, Faith had already lit a small flame using the dry tinder they carried with them. She sent him a smile as he laid the logs near her.
A crack of thunder covered her words, and the lingering distant rumble made his pulse pick up. He needed to tie up an oilcloth posthaste.
White Horse returned as he was unfolding the cover, and the two of them worked in silence, tying the ends to trees. The man seemed competent and easy in his movements. He didn’t send any glares toward Grant, just focused on working together to set up camp.
By the time they had things settled, the first drops of rain began to fall, and soon the sky opened up in a steady downpour. Faith had put together a simple meal of dried meat and johnnycakes, and they huddled close to the fire as they ate.
Even though they had the oilcloth above and the pine branches over that, the ground beneath them quickly became mud from water running down the slope.
They would all be soaked before this night was through.
TWELVE
Grant glanced at Faith across the campfire, and she met his look. The pounding of the rain made it too hard for small talk. But the smile in her eyes said she didn’t mind the hardship of the weather. Maybe she was accustomed to traveling like this. Or perhaps she was simply relieved to be away from the trappers and back with an old friend whom she felt comfortable with.
He slid his focus to White Horse. The man kept his gaze roaming the trees around their camp as he ate. Not in a fierce way, almost absentmindedly as he chewed. But he missed nothing, Grant had no doubt of that.
Faith raised her voice over the rain as she turned to the brave. “How long do you think it will take us to reach the waterfalls?”
White Horse paused in his chewing, considering her words. “If rain stops, might be two sleeps.”
Faith nodded, her gaze flicking to the rain outside their cover.
Two days wouldn’t be bad. It was far less than if they’d stayed with Parson’s group. White Horse would probablymove faster, and Parson had spoken of stopping again tomorrow to put out traps and test how many fur-bearers lived in the area.
Grant swallowed his bite and looked to White Horse. “You said you know of the Shaheela River? Do you know how far it is from here?”
His brows gathered and his gaze turned distant. “Maybe one more sleep beyond.”
And then likely longer to find Will once they reached the river.
But he was closer to his brother than ever before on this journey. He might even find Will within the week.
That thought sparked a hope inside him that not even bedding down on the wet ground could smother.
Grant jerked awake, then froze in the darkness, his senses straining. The rain had stopped, leaving the air around them still. Too quiet.
Something wasn’t right. He’d not awakened with this sense of foreboding in a while.
His eyes had mostly adjusted to the starless night, and he could see the shadows of trunks all around their camp. A threat could be hiding behind any one of them.
Why had they selected this cluster of trees to sleep in? The trunks allowed cover for an intruder to approach so close he could strike them all in their sleep.
A few raindrops pinged on the oilcloth stretched over them. Moisture that had gathered on the pine needles above during the storm, no doubt.
He moved his gaze around the camp. A few coals stillglowed from the fire, barely bright enough to show the rise and fall of Faith’s shoulder as she slept. White Horse too appeared to be resting peacefully. Wouldn’t his honed instincts have alerted him if there truly was danger?
Grant eased out a breath. Maybe he’d dreamed something that brought on this panic. He couldn’t recall a dream, but that didn’t mean he’d not experienced one.
He scanned the saddles and supplies they’d covered with a fur to protect them from the rain. In the shadows, something didn’t look right with the stack. Was there a pack piled on top?
His heart picked up speed again as he slipped from his blanket and stood. He tucked his pistol into his waistband, just in case. When he crept closer, it was easier to see the jumble of fur heaped at the outside edge, as though someone had moved it aside to retrieve something from a pack and not pulled the covering back in place.
White Horse rose as Grant shifted around to the spot. He paused first to peer into the trees for signs of an intruder. No movement or unusual sounds.
The brave crouched down by the supplies. “Open.”
Grant turned to him. “Which one?” But he could already see White Horse looking into the satchel where they kept the food. “Is anything missing?”
