Frontier Courtship Part 21

"Arrangement?" Faith's voice was rising. "If that's all it was-or is-then I pity you both."

That said, she stomped away, leaving Connell staring after her, dumbfounded.

Little was said for the remainder of the afternoon. Conversation took energy and there was none to spare. Mouth dry, Faith licked her cracked lips and kept her head tipped so the brim of the oversize hat would offer a smidgen of shade. She knew there'd be no relief, no cool respite, until they reached the foothills of the Sierras. How soon that would be was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.

Too weary to pray, Faith merely closed her eyes and let the gentle rocking of Ben's walk lull her into an internal awareness of the Lord's presence. In Bible stories, many a man had been shepherded safely through the wilderness. Strong faith was the key to survival, just as Connell had said. That, and putting her complete trust in those who had been ordained to deliver her. Surely, McClain was such a man. Meeting him had been a wonderment, considering how many other travelers had been nearby when she'd been injured. The fact that he'd been the one to come to her rescue was proof enough that he was special. Heaven-sent.

Her heart swelled with grat.i.tude-and more-taking her imagination on a flight of fancy. She pictured herself in his arms, her cheek lying against his broad chest as she listened to his heart beating rhythmically like the thudding of her own pulse in her ears, at her temples. Soft cadence. Drumming. Humming in her veins. Dulling the unrelenting a.s.sault of heat on her exhausted body and soul.

She swayed in the saddle. Flashes of light sparkled behind her closed eyelids like a night sky filled with millions of stars. At the periphery, blackness waited to envelop her, to rescue her from reality.

In the deepest parts of her mind, Faith knew she must be falling, yet her only sensation was one of floating. The desert disappeared from her consciousness, as did all her suffering and thirst. Empty, welcome blackness took its place.

When Faith came to, she was lying in the shade of a scrubby tree. Connell was bathing her face with a wet cloth and fanning her with her straw hat.

She opened her eyes and reached for his wrist to stop him. "Don't waste water."

"It's all right," he said softly. "We made it. There'll be plenty to drink from here on out."

Faith tried to sit up. He held her in place with a hand on her shoulder.

"Just lie there and rest," Connell said. "You've had a rough time of it."

"What...what happened?"

"You pa.s.sed out."

"I don't remember." When she tried to moisten her lips, she realized how dry and cracked they were. "I'm so thirsty. Are you sure there's plenty to drink?"

"Positive. Irene's gone to water Ben and the horses." He cradled Faith's head, lifted it and held the canteen to her lips. "Here. Drink. Just don't overdo it or it's liable to make you sick."

She swallowed all he'd allow, then sat up and thanked him. "I don't think I'll ever quench this thirst."

"Sure you will." A relieved smile lit his face and crinkled the outer corners of his eyes. "You're looking better already. Had me worried there for a while, though. I was beginning to think you were going to quit on me."

"Never." Faith smiled as far as the cracks in her sore lips would allow. "You're stuck with me, mister."

"I'm glad to see your feisty att.i.tude is intact, too. I kind of missed it."

"Probably not nearly as much as I did," she quipped. "I think I must have been hallucinating part of the time. I imagined I was..." A blush rose to her already reddened cheeks.

"What?"

Faith looked around to see if Irene was near before she told him. "If you must know, I was dreaming I was-we were, um-I mean, well, sort of hugging. Like back in camp after I almost shot you. Remember?"

"I remember all right. You weren't dreaming. I caught you when you started to fall and carried you till we finally found water. I didn't think you'd mind, especially since the alternative was to sling you over a saddle like a pack."

"That's what Ab did to me," Faith said. "I didn't like it one bit, thank you. Especially with sore ribs."

"How are you doing now? I haven't asked lately because you weren't favoring your side at all."

"I hardly know I was. .h.i.t. Either my ribs weren't broken in the first place or I heal fast. Or both." She gave him a lopsided grin. "Of course, if these were biblical times I'd say it could also have been a miracle."

"The amazing thing is that we managed to make it this far in spite of all that's happened," Connell said, getting to his feet. "You rest. I'll go see what's keeping Irene."

"Wait! There's something you should know. Something that's been nagging at me. I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong with Irene, but I'm sure something is. I can feel it." Faith could tell by the look on his face he wasn't taking her seriously.

"Intuition?"

She shook her head soberly. "More like a sense of foreboding."

"Now you are are imagining things." One eyebrow arched. "As a matter of fact, Irene mentioned the same notion about you. I suspect you're jealous of each other." imagining things." One eyebrow arched. "As a matter of fact, Irene mentioned the same notion about you. I suspect you're jealous of each other."

"Over what? You? Don't be silly. I know you're only helping me because you got stuck with the job. And I know you're the kind of honorable man who doesn't make a vow unless he intends to keep it."

She sighed, then went on, "It's not your your motives I'm worried about, it's hers." motives I'm worried about, it's hers."

"You don't have to fret about Irene," he said. "She's as reliable as anyone I've ever met. I know she's been through a lot in the past year or two but you can trust her completely. I do."

"You trust her with your life?" Faith asked quietly, cautiously.

"Of course. And so can you."

Nodding, she bowed her head as he walked away, waiting until he was out of earshot before whispering, "I'm afraid I'm not so sure."

Chapter Nineteen.

The trip through the high Sierras was rigorous beyond belief. By the time Faith and the others reached the western side of the range, she was in awe of any and all who had braved the difficult trek. Wrecked wagons that bespoke lost dreams and perhaps lost lives framed the steep, rutted trails and littered the canyons.

Though the sight saddened Faith it was hard for her to continue to grieve for nameless strangers when she was feeling such a sense of success. Every day for the past week she'd asked Connell, "How much longer," and every day he'd answered, "Soon."

Now that the higher elevations were behind them the weather was warm again, though not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been in the desert. When Connell called a halt and suggested the women bathe while he set up camp and prepared an evening meal, Faith was more than glad to oblige. Though she'd loved the comfort of her Cheyenne garb, she was ready for a change of clothes. And the doeskin was definitely ready for a scrubbing. The thought of lighter-weight calico over a cotton chemise and drawers absolutely thrilled her.

Irene remained silent and waited as Faith gathered up the dresses and personal items they'd procured back at the Humboldt Sink. Together, they made their way downstream from where Connell had placed their camp.

Without hesitation, Irene plunged into the waist-deep water, clothes and all.

"Isn't that cold?" Faith asked.

Irene didn't answer. Crouched down up to her neck, she was stripping off her leather garments and rinsing them in the current.

Following Irene's sensible example, Faith waded in. Icy rivulets crept inside her leather moccasins and leggings, chilling her immediately. Shivering, she gave a high-pitched "Ooh!"

"Hush," Irene warned. "Get down into the water, like this, and be quiet, before you draw every bandit and renegade Indian in the territories."

That thought sobered Faith. She ducked and scanned the brushy riverbank, imagining menace in every shadow, behind every tree. "Sorry. It's so beautiful here I forgot to be cautious."

"Women can't afford to forget," Irene told her.

Faith sobered even more. "Was it very bad?"

"What?" Irene continued to tend to her washing without looking up.

"Living with savages."

"Savages? You mean Ramsey Tucker?"

"I wasn't referring to him, but I do see what you mean. I suppose savageness or civility is all in whatever point of view a person holds, isn't it."

"You are learning," Irene said quietly.

"Do you really wish you could go back to the Cheyenne?"

Irene ducked under the running water for a moment before surfacing and swiping a hand across her eyes. "I refuse to dwell on what cannot be."

"But what do you really want to do?"

She heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh. "If I had any choice, I'd go back to being a carefree girl in love with the young man my family befriended after his mother died. Then I'd run away with him like he wanted me to do many years ago and we'd start a new life."

"Connell?" Faith's throat tightened at the thought.

"Yes. We imagined we were in love. Maybe, in a childish way, we were. I don't know."

"Why didn't you go away with him?"

"Family obligations. I felt those came first and he had a terrible urge to see the Territories, so we were at an impa.s.se."

"What made you change your mind and come west?"

"My parents' deaths, mostly. When my excuse was gone, I wrote to Connell at the last address I had for him, in Sacramento City. I never dreamed he'd still want me after all the time that had pa.s.sed."

"It's a wonder your letter even reached him."

"I know. I was actually surprised when he answered. He told me he was lonely, and why. So was I. It seemed the most sensible thing in the world to renew our old promise to marry."

"And then you met Ramsey Tucker."

"Yes."

Again Irene ducked beneath the rippling water but not before Faith glimpsed the shimmer of unshed tears. As soon as she came up for air, Faith said, "It's not your fault. None of this is. Tucker lied to you the same way he's lied to my sister. He's very accomplished at getting his way."

"I know."

"Maybe we can procure a settlement from him, on your behalf, when we liberate Charity."

"Money, you mean? Oh, no. Not money." Faith saw Irene's eyes spark, narrow and fill with malevolence. "All I want from Ramsey Tucker is his mangy scalp. It would pleasure me greatly to lift it myself."

"You're not serious!"

Irene stared straight at her and said with unmistakable conviction, "Oh, yes, I am."

Faith knew she should quote the scripture where G.o.d said vengeance belonged to Him, but she feared that if she did, Irene's anger would focus on her as well, so she kept silent.

Irene didn't tarry long at the river. Left alone to rue her temporary timidity, Faith prayed for greater strength, wisdom and the courage to express her faith no matter whose displeasure or what obstacles she had to contend with in doing so.

Shivering, she undid her braids and let the river rinse her hair clean the way prayer had cleansed her conscience, then climbed out and followed Irene's example by donning the settlers' clothing they'd brought from the abandoned wagon.

Now that they weren't facing imminent death, Faith could think of other amenities she wished she'd had the presence of mind to pick up when she'd had the chance. Not the least of those was a hairbrush or comb.

She leaned to the side and twisted her long tresses to remove as much water as possible, then looked around for something with which to fasten her hair back. Irene had laid their Cheyenne clothing over brushy lower limbs of trees to dry before starting back up the hill toward their campsite.

Lagging behind, Faith realized she'd lost the colorful ties the young Cheyenne girl had used to hold her rolled braids in place. She was about to give up and forget about doing anything with her hair when she spied a narrow strip of beaded leather tied to a branch beside their old dresses. It was just what she needed. It was also not hers.

Faith opened her mouth to call after Irene for permission, then remembered the older woman's sensible admonition of silence. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to borrow the decorative tie. After all, if Irene had wanted to wear it herself, she'd have done so.

Without further qualm, Faith undid the knot, slid the leather thong under her hair at the nape of her neck and tied it. Having been braided until now, her hair wasn't as tangled as she'd expected, especially considering all she'd been through. She smiled, patting and smoothing the sides. Probably just as well she didn't have a mirror. Some things were best imagined rather than seen.

Besides, she thought with derision, who cared what she looked like? Certainly not Connell McClain. He had Irene. If any man was a perfect match for poor Irene Wellman, it was the plainsman.

"So why does it bother me so to see them together?" Faith muttered. She started to argue the point with herself, then stopped. It was true. She knew she should be exhibiting Christian charity and thanking the Lord that her rescuer had found his betrothed, yet she couldn't help wishing otherwise. It wasn't the right att.i.tude to harbor. It was simply human.

Faith smiled and muttered, "Well, well. What do you know? One character flaw after another. I guess that's what I get for praying for more wisdom."

Connell had a simple meal almost ready by the time Faith returned to camp. His future bride was sitting sideways on one of the saddles while he squatted by the fire, turning a makeshift spit to finish cooking a rabbit and several small game hens.

Faith grinned. "That smells wonderful. I didn't know how hungry I was till just now." When he looked up at her, his eyes widened and his eyebrows arched, much to her delight.