Frontier Courtship Part 22

She twirled to display the calico frock. "Do you like it? It's almost a perfect fit."

"I'll say." Straightening, Connell stared. "Looks like it was made for you."

"Maybe it was. I wish I had a proper ribbon to match." She touched her hair and gave Irene a quick glance as she added, "This was the best I could do. I found it down by the river. I hope you don't mind."

Before Faith could react, Irene leaped to her feet, screeched in Cheyenne and began to claw at the beaded thong, grasping handfuls of hair with it.

Confused, Faith fought off the attack as best she could. If it hadn't been for Connell's intervention she might have been seriously hurt. He held the struggling Irene at bay while Faith untangled the thong and handed it back to its owner.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I was doing anything wrong."

"You weren't," Connell replied. Keeping Irene at arm's length, he stared down at her. "What was that all about?"

She twisted out of his grasp without answering, fisted the tangled tie and ran back toward the river where they'd left their Indian garments.

Rubbing her scalp, Faith turned to Connell. "I told told you she was acting funny. Do you have any idea what's going on?" you she was acting funny. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No."

In spite of his denial, Faith was certain she'd glimpsed more than concern in his expression when he'd looked at the object Irene had coveted so. Either it was of special significance by itself or it bore markings that identified it as belonging to a certain person or tribe. Possibly both, she concluded. Although their garments themselves were unique, perhaps the tie was even more so. Perhaps it had belonged to Red Deer.

Faith's breath caught. Suddenly feeling her senses p.r.i.c.kling in warning, she stared after Irene. What if the thong had been tied to the branch for some reason other than to dry it? What if it had been placed there as a sign, a marker for someone who was following?

That thought was so bizarre she gawked at Connell, slack jawed and speechless. There was thunder in his expression, lightning in his eyes. Could he be thinking the same thing she was? Was he finally ready to listen to reason and take precautions?

Faith closed her mouth and let it twist with sarcasm. He was already certain she was insanely jealous of Irene, which wasn't far from the truth. Any accusation against Irene, coming on the heels of their tiff over the hair tie, would sound like nothing more than another foolish manifestation of female rivalry.

What could she do, short of knocking Connell over the head and forcing him to pay heed to her concerns?

The more she pondered all the strange things that had occurred since they'd liberated Irene, the more Faith was certain the other woman was up to something. It was beginning to look as though her rescuer was going to need someone to stand firm beside him, and there was only one person in a position to offer support. Her.

She made her way to where her saddle and gear were piled and strapped on her papa's Colt. The holster and enormous revolver looked incongruous atop her new dress but she didn't care. Unlike Charity, she'd decided long ago that self-preservation was far more important than fashion.

Resting a hand on the pistol grip, Faith stood straight and faced Connell, daring him to disagree with her decision to once again travel fully armed.

Instead of the argument she'd expected, he merely nodded thoughtfully and said, "Good."

Faith watched Connell as they ate, noting his growing unease. His gaze kept darting in the direction where they'd last seen Irene as if expecting her to reappear.

Finally, Faith asked, "Do you think I should go after her and apologize?"

The plainsman shook his head. "No. She'll come back when she's ready."

"Are you sure? I don't mind going."

He got to his feet. "You stay put. Keep the fire built up. I'll go fetch her. The last thing I need is to have both of you wandering around in the hills getting into trouble."

"Do you think she's in trouble?"

"Not till I catch up to her." He sighed. "Irene's as good at wilderness survival as I am, thanks to the Cheyenne. I'd just feel better if I knew exactly where she was."

Faith huffed. "Me, too. I know you don't want to hear this, especially coming from me, but I can't help thinking she's up to something."

"What makes you say that?"

"No one big thing," Faith replied. "Just lots of odd little things that don't add up. Can you honestly say you haven't noticed?" She saw his expression close, his eyes narrow.

"We'll talk about this later," Connell said flatly. He paused beside Rojo and swung his saddle onto the horse's back. "I'm going to mount up in case she's gone farther than the river. You keep track of Ben and the other horses. Make sure they don't disappear while you're sleeping."

"Sleeping?" Faith was on her feet in a heartbeat. "Aren't you coming right back?"

"That's my plan, unless I have trouble finding Irene."

"I should come with you then."

"You'd just slow me down."

"Thanks a heap, mister. Have I slowed you down so far?" She pulled a face. "Never mind. I know I have and I'm sorry. I just don't feel right letting you go out there all alone." Without conscious thought she rested her hand on the b.u.t.t of the revolver, realizing belatedly that her actions were amusing him.

"I promise to let you protect me some other time," he gibed with a cynical smile. "Right now, I want you to concentrate on looking after yourself." Finished tightening the cinch, he swung into the saddle. "And one more thing. This river feeds straight into the American. Remember that."

Faith frowned up at him, wondering why he felt the need to be so specific until he continued with, "You can find Beal's Bar by sticking to the riverbank and following it downstream. Understand?"

"I understand your directions," Faith said. "What I don't understand is why you're telling me this. Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, it's working."

He wheeled Rojo in a tight circle while the horse pranced with eagerness. "Just stay alert. I'll be back as fast as I can. I promise."

"Wait!" Faith hurried closer and reached out to him. In an instant he'd bent down and lifted her off the ground, holding her close while she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

Just as quickly he put her down, backed his horse away and galloped into the night.

Unsteady, Faith pressed her fingertips to her tingling lips and blinked to try to clear her head. There had been a desperate quality to Connell's goodbye kiss. A yearning that echoed all the pent-up emotion she'd been trying to deny in her own heart.

Realizing their shared feeling lifted Faith's spirits.

It also scared her silly and piled enough guilt on her heart to make it ache.

Chapter Twenty.

It was nearly dawn before Faith yielded to fatigue and closed her eyes. The campfire had burned down to glowing embers by the time she stirred again. Except for Ben and the two horses the Cheyenne had given them, she was alone.

How long should she wait for Connell? she wondered. If he'd found Irene, he would have returned as he'd promised. Therefore, he must still be searching. Unless...

Breath caught in Faith's throat. Unless he'd been hurt. Or worse. The notion was so dreadful, so unacceptable, it made her heart race and her head throb.

Every instinct told her she must search for him. Logic countered by reminding her she had no idea where he'd gone. Nor did she know where she she was. Her only clue was Connell's instruction about following the river's course to Beal's Bar. Clearly, he'd wanted her to proceed in case he didn't make it back, but how could she leave the area without knowing what had happened to him? was. Her only clue was Connell's instruction about following the river's course to Beal's Bar. Clearly, he'd wanted her to proceed in case he didn't make it back, but how could she leave the area without knowing what had happened to him?

She stood, forlorn in the midst of the vast Sierra range, and looked toward heaven. "This isn't right. It isn't fair, Father. I can't leave him. I can't."

Yet, if she didn't go on alone, Charity and Tucker might reach the mining camp ahead of her. Then her innocent father and sister would be in terrible jeopardy. Only Faith knew the whole truth. Only she could save her family from Tucker's planned perfidy.

She had no choice but to break camp and head downriver. Heart heavy, she doused the campfire, packed their supplies aboard one of the horses and saddled Ben. It occurred to her to leave a sign or an arrow to guide Connell but she decided against it. He already knew which way she was going. There was no use giving anyone else a clue to her whereabouts.

And speaking of not leaving behind any sign, she had one important task left. Leading her mule, Faith headed toward the river to pick up her deerskin dress. It was still draped on the bush where she'd left it to dry.

Irene's Cheyenne clothing, however, was gone. So was the beaded tie that had caused such an uproar.

Praying and hoping and wishing, Faith continued to follow the river as Connell had instructed, even after she lost sight of the clear trail of Rojo's prints along the bank. Either the man had ridden his horse into the water or she'd somehow missed some trace of him on the rocky ground. Whichever it was, she was truly on her own.

Too bereft to form coherent plans and too numb to recall comforting scripture verses the way she wanted, she let Ben pick his way along while she thought of Connell and prayed randomly for his safety and well-being.

"And for his happiness," Faith added. "I do want him to be happy, G.o.d. Honest I do. I just don't understand all this. Why did I have to fall in love with him when everything is so hopeless?"

Just then, Ben blew a noisy snort and Faith thought she heard a horse nicker a soft reply. She reined the mule in. "What is it, boy? What's wrong?"

His ears p.r.i.c.ked, head turning slowly. Faith stood in her stirrups, straining to see into the distance. There didn't seem to be any reason for the mule's concern, yet he was growing more and more agitated. Behind her, the horses she'd been leading were equally nervous. Suddenly, one bolted, jerked the lead rope out of her hand and galloped off. The other followed.

Shouting "Whoa!" had no effect on either of them and Faith had no clue as to the equivalent Cheyenne word. She was, however, sorely tempted to use some of the colorful language she'd heard more than one so-called gentleman shout in similar circ.u.mstances.

"Well, pooh," she finally said, talking to the mule and patting his neck. "At least I've still got you."

He blew another loud snort. This time, Faith knew she heard a horse or mule reply. Urging Ben forward, she took her bearings on the river behind her and went to investigate.

In minutes, she realized her prayers had been answered. Or had they? She stifled a shout and slid from Ben's back.

Connell lay sprawled on the rocky ground, facedown. Rojo stood guard over him. There was blood on the fancy beaded rifle scabbard hanging from his saddle and a nasty-looking cut on the horse's foreleg.

Dropping to her knees beside the prostrate man, Faith touched his shoulder with trepidation. "Connell?"

To her relief, he stirred, moaned.

"Oh, thank G.o.d. You're alive!"

He sat up slowly, with effort. "What happened?"

"Don't you know?"

One hand explored his b.l.o.o.d.y forehead. "Maybe Rojo stumbled. Is he okay?"

"I think so." Faith helped the plainsman stand. "He's cut, but he seems to be putting weight on that leg. How did he fall?"

She saw Connell stiffen and reach for his pistol. It was no longer in its holster. His rifle was gone, too. All he had left was the knife he used for skinning. No wonder he was suddenly on full alert. If his horse had merely fallen, Connell wouldn't have lost both his guns. It didn't take a genius to figure he'd been a.s.saulted and robbed.

"We have to get out of here," he said.

Faith easily adopted his att.i.tude. "Now you're making sense. Let's go. You can ride Ben till we make sure your horse isn't badly injured."

"No. You mount up and ride. I'll follow when I can."

"In a pig's eye, mister. I came to rescue you and that's just what I intend to do."

"You what? what?"

"You heard me. I'm saving your sorry hide. Now stop arguing and get on that mule before I get really upset."

"You don't know what you're saying. It's too dangerous. Whoever knocked me out might still be around."

"Oh?" Faith c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "I thought you got that knot on your head when your horse fell." She could tell she'd bested him, at least for the present.

"Never mind how I got hurt. Just do as I tell you."

"If I'd followed your orders and stayed by the river you might still be lying in a heap with your poor horse bleeding all over you. Now, are you going to do this my way or do I have to sit myself down right here and wait for you to come to your senses?"

Muttering to himself, Connell nevertheless agreed. "All right. Mount up. I'll ride one of the other horses. Where did you leave them, anyway?"

Faith didn't think this was a good time to tell him she'd lost the spare horses so she merely smiled and said, "Give me a boost and swing on behind me. Ben can carry us for a short way and Rojo can follow till we have time to sort everything out."

To her relief, Connell went along with her plan. If she hadn't been so worried about meeting up with whoever had attacked him, she'd have spent more time fretting about how to explain her careless loss of the extra horses.

The throbbing in Connell's temple was the least of his concerns. Even if Rojo had been sound and he'd still had all his weapons, he'd have had to decide which of the two women to help first. Both of them were special to him-Irene because of their long history of friendship, and Faith Beal because she needed him and...

He paused, dismayed by the clarity of his mental ramblings. Faith was special because he not only admired and cherished her, he loved her! She was intelligent as well as the bravest, most virtuous woman he'd ever met.

What a sobering conclusion. The qualities he most admired in her were the very ones that would preclude his ever revealing his deep affection. Honor and righteousness meant everything to Faith. He knew she would never consider marrying a man who had broken his vows to another woman, even if he could bring himself to do so. Which he couldn't.

After all the trials Irene had suffered attempting to join him in California he couldn't just turn away from her. She was like a frightened, wounded animal in need of healing, of the comfort a faithful husband could offer. He'd had his chance at the lighthearted romance of youth with Little Rabbit Woman. It was time to settle down and fulfill his vow to Irene, as he'd promised so long ago.

Still riding with Faith, Connell rested a tender gaze on her shoulders. Ever since he'd foolishly given in and mounted Ben behind her, he'd had to fight the tendency to wrap his arms around her and pull her back against his chest.

He could still taste the sweet kiss they'd shared when they'd last parted. It had been so spontaneous, so right for that moment, he hadn't stopped to think about what he was doing until after the fact. Now, he was beginning to worry that he might have altered the way Faith viewed their relationship. If so, he had some serious atoning to do.