This Healing Journey Read online

  This

  Healing

  Journey

  Heart of the Mountains

  Book 7

  Misty M. Beller

  And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

  Matthew 25:40 (KJV)

  ~ ~ ~

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  This Healing Journey (Heart of the Mountains, #7)

  I pray you’ve enjoyed the finale to the Heart of the Mountains series! As much as I loved writing Nathaniel and Hannah’s story and revisiting so many special friends, I’m always sad to say farewell... | But the sadness is softened (a lot!) because I get to share a new series with you! Hope’s Highest Mountain is book one in my new Hearts of Montana series (published by Bethany House, a dream come true for me!). I think you’ll LOVE Ingrid and Micah! | Here’s a peek at the beginning! | Chapter One

  Don’t miss Misty’s newest series from Bethany House | Hearts of Montana | Book 1 | Hope’s Highest Mountain | https://books2read.com/u/m2xQJO

  This Treacherous Journey

  This Wilderness Journey

  This Freedom Journey

  This Courageous Journey

  This Freedom Journey

  Mountain Dreams Series:

  And don’t miss the | Wyoming Mountain Tales | Book 1

  https://www.books2read.com/u/mBeoEy | Book 2

  https://www.books2read.com/u/31gB17 | Book 3

  https://www.books2read.com/u/b5OGO6 | Book 4

  Also look for:

  Chapter One

  On the brink of finally claiming this dream. Why do my fears rise to taunt me now?

  ~ Nathaniel

  June, 1880

  Near Butte, Montana Territory

  Meeting a stranger shouldn’t make him so nervous. Shouldn’t even give him a second’s worry. Nathaniel Peak rubbed a sweating palm down his trouser leg as he tried to settle into his horse’s stride. After all, he’d faced down hundreds of enemy rifles and charged into the midst of Indian war cries and brutal spears. By the grace of God he’d survived. Survived and finally escaped the ruthless life in the cavalry he’d grown to hate so fiercely.

  Now, a simple life as a civilian rancher shouldn’t set his nerves on edge. He was only meeting a neighbor. Maybe a family. These were the people living nearest his new homestead. The neighbors he could call on for help and return the favor in kind.

  Yet, since the rising sun had awakened him that morning, he’d had a gnawing in his gut. The feeling that came before battle, the sting of goose flesh and hair standing on end. But why?

  It wasn’t as if these landowners were more important than others he’d met in his life. He was making too much of this introduction in his mind, but he couldn’t seem to squelch the anxiety.

  To his left, the trees parted to reveal a majestic view of distant mountain peaks rising up as far as he could see. This was why he’d chosen to locate his ranch here. Views like that stirred something deep inside him, making him come alive in a way he wanted to feel for the rest of his days.

  To the right, a worn path turned off the main trail, and he reined his mare that direction, toward the spire of smoke rising above the trees. Would these be a pair of grizzled mountain men who’d teamed up to make their work a bit easier for themselves? Or a young couple trying to make a go of life in these majestic mountains, where a man could work his own land and appreciate the fruits of his labors?

  As the trees gave way to an open clearing, the cabin sitting in the middle proved to be the source of the rising chimney smoke. A dog barked then bounded from the porch toward him. A big white wooly animal who showed a pair of snarling teeth as it neared.

  “Hey, there.” Nathaniel kept his horse moving forward steadily, careful to make sure his posture didn’t show any hint of threat toward the canine. Nor any fear.

  A sound from the cabin porch brought his focus up to where a man stepped outside. He paused at the top of the stairs, a hat shadowing his face so it was hard to get a read on his age and demeanor. The dog loped back to the porch and took its position beside the man.

  Nathaniel stopped his horse about fifteen strides away from the structure. Near enough they could speak without yelling, but far enough he didn’t appear to be pushing his way in uninvited.

  He raised a hand. “Howdy.”

  The other man nodded, lifting a matching palm in greeting. “We don’t see many new faces around here.” His voice sounded friendly enough.

  Nathaniel forced away a bit of his nerves as he tipped up the brim of his hat so the fellow could get a clear look at him. “I’m homesteading the land to the east of you.” He pointed in the direction of his property. “There’s an old trapper’s cabin I’ve been staying in. Maybe you’ve seen the place. Anyway, thought I’d come introduce myself. Nathaniel Peak.”

  “Glad to meet you.” The man stepped down the stairs and moved toward him. “I’m Reuben Scott. Come in and stay a bit. My wife’ll have coffee on and biscuits made fresh this morning.”

  Nathaniel eased out a breath as he dismounted. He turned to Scott and extended a hand to meet the outstretched grip. “I’d appreciate that.” An invitation to breakfast was almost better than he could have hoped. He could address business now without having to come back a second time.

  He tied his horse at the hitching post to the right of the stairs, then fell into step beside Reuben Scott, glancing around the clearing at the barn, corrals, and a few other outbuildings. “Looks like a nice place you have here.”

  Not luxurious, to be sure, but well-equipped for a quiet mountain ranch. It would take some doing to get his own cluster of ramshackle buildings up to this level of simple efficiency. All the structures here seemed well-maintained.

  On the porch, Scott motioned to the dog to stay out, then pushed open the door and stepped inside first. “We’ve a visitor.” His words were directed to someone within, then he cleared the opening and waved for Nathaniel to enter.

  As he stepped into the interior, he squinted to catch the surroundings while his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. Sound to his right drew his focus.

  A woman stood over a cookstove, a table to her back. She replaced the lid on a pot and turned to him with a smile. “Welcome.”

  Reuben Scott moved near her, then pointed to Nathaniel. “This is our new neighbor to the east, Nathaniel Peak. He’s taken the old hunting cabin.”

  She clasped her hands together as joy lit her pretty face. “Wonderful. I’m Cathleen Scott.” She motioned toward the table. “Sit and visit. I’ll pour coffee.”

  Either these two were starved for human interaction, or they were genuinely pleasant people. Whichever the case, he stepped toward the table and sank into a ladder-back chair on the long side. Reuben took one at the head.

  “Are you new to the area?” The man leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in a comfortable pose.

  “Mostly. I just finished four years in the 2nd US Calvary Regiment, B Troop. We rode through here a couple times, and I remembered it being one of the prettiest countries I’d ever seen. As soon as I could get away from the fighting, I made my way back.”

  He watched Reuben’s face as he spoke and didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to close off, although his expression didn’t harden. Did this man feel the same way about the Indian wars? Or did he have another reason to dislike the cavalry?

  Mrs. Scott placed mugs in front of each of them—ceramic, not the tin he was so accustomed to. He glanced at her face but saw nothing there except kind civility.
<
br />   Perhaps this was a good time to ease the conversation away from himself. Turning back to the man, he took a sip of the warm brew. The liquid eased down without a hint of bitterness. “Ah, that’s good. Shouldn’t even carry the same name as the sludge we drank in the regiment.”

  Reuben’s jaw tightened at the word regiment. The man clearly disliked something about the cavalry—a sentiment Nathaniel shared with him. Maybe if he told of his reasons for leaving, they could find common ground with better footing.

  He set the mug on the table and met the man’s gaze. “I signed on to the cavalry back in Virginia, the same as my father had done, and his father before him. It was my mother’s greatest wish that I follow in their footsteps and protect my country on horseback. Within days, I was assigned to the 2nd Regiment and sent westward with a group of other new troopers. What I found when I arrived was nothing like what I expected.”

  He stared into his mug as those early days came back to him. “The Indians. I...” How did he say this without seeming overly harsh toward his superiors? Not all had been heartless. For many, this was simply a war they’d been commanded to win. Yet war should never be waged against women and children.

  Swallowing, he did his best to sum up the story in as few words as possible. “I suppose you could say I didn’t always agree with the methods we were commanded to use in fulfilling our orders. For that matter, I struggled with why there was such a need to keep the Indians confined to reservations in the first place. In many ways, it seems possible and better for us all to settle in together doing what the Bible says. ‘As much as possible, live peaceably with all men.’” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I suppose soldiering wasn’t the best line of work for me.”

  He chanced a look at Reuben. He’d never bared his soul so thoroughly to strangers. What would the man say? He’d not meant to put him on the spot nor dive into such weighty matters in the first five minutes of conversation. Perhaps it was best they change the subject now.

  Reuben’s jaw had softened, and his mouth curved in a hint of a smile. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. The part about living peaceably that is.” Then he reached a hand forward. It took Nathaniel a second for his stunned mind to realize what the man offered.

  He took the extended hand, accepting the friendship locked firmly in the grip. Reuben’s gaze settled in his, something like respect shimmering in his dark eyes.

  Then the man eased back in his chair with a comfortable sigh. “Now tell us, what do you need to help you settle in? That shack’s not been lived in regularly for a while. You need a hand to make the place habitable?”

  Mrs. Scott placed a plate of fluffy biscuits on the table, along with butter and some kind of jam. He’d meant only a glance at the food, but the aroma didn’t do the fare justice. He could almost taste the warm melding of sweet flavors, even though it had been years since he’d enjoyed such bliss. Not since he joined the cavalry.

  A chuckle drifted from Reuben as the man nudged the plate toward him. “Go ahead. Eat. Cathleen makes better biscuits than anyone I know. Even better than my mum’s.”

  “Speaking of Mum, I think I hear her waking.” Mrs. Scott spoke for the first time since they’d sat at the table. The swish of her skirts sounded as she moved toward the doors against the back wall.

  Reuben watched his wife go, a glimmer in his eyes most married men seemed to lose after the courting days. Then he turned his focus back to Nathaniel. “Mum doesn’t remember much these days. It might confuse her to meet you. She’ll be polite, but she may think you’re someone she once knew.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Getting old isn’t easy.” He couldn’t withstand the call of the biscuits any longer but tried not to make a fanfare of scooping one onto his plate.

  Reuben did the same, and an easy quiet settled as they loaded the bread with extras. The first bite was heavenly, even better than he’d imagined.

  “So you didn’t say how we could help. I’m sure Cathy will want to send food with you.”

  He’d wanted an opening to state his main purpose for coming here, but he had to pull himself from the warm biscuits to answer. “Actually, I’m looking to buy stock. Cattle and good horseflesh if I can find it. My plan is to raise mostly horses, but the cattle will help offset the lean times. Do you know the best places in this area to buy healthy animals?”

  Reuben’s gaze drifted into the distance as he chewed, his mind likely far away. “I don’t mind selling you a few of our cattle, but our herd’s still low from when I had to trade some to O’Hennessey last year. He may have more to part with than we do. I know he has a few horses, but I’m not sure if any will be what you’re looking for.” He turned back to Nathaniel. “He’s our neighbor to the west, about an hour’s ride. I can go over there with you if you’d like.”

  Nathaniel tried to keep the grin from spreading too wide on his face. “I’d appreciate that.”

  A clanging sounded from the back chamber. At the same time the dog growled on the porch outside. Reuben’s head cocked, then he pushed to his feet and moved toward the small window at the far end of the room.

  Nathaniel stood, too. Had someone else come to visit? He wouldn’t expect many people this far up in the mountains. Reuben’s face looked troubled as he peered through the glass, then he stepped to the rear door his wife had entered. When he poked his head inside what must be a bed chamber, the hum of voices sounded, but not loud enough for Nathaniel to make out words.

  He kept his place by the table, waiting to see where he was needed. Reuben strode toward the front door, then paused as if just remembering Nathaniel was there. He waved toward the porch. “Three unfamiliar riders. You can come meet them too. Maybe we have more new neighbors.”

  Nathaniel followed him out, but couldn’t summon the light spirit the man’s words tried to relay. Maybe because Reuben’s face held a seriousness that matched the foreboding in his own chest.

  Chapter Two

  As much as I long for the happiness of those dearest, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find my own place.

  ~ Hannah

  Hannah Grant reined her horse alongside her mother’s mare, letting her father’s tall, broad shoulders lead the way on his paint. The farmyard they rode into was tidy—almost cozy, surrounded by trees as it was. Grass grew in even patches, split by footpaths from the house to the barn and each of the outbuildings, a sign that the inhabitants didn’t allow the stock to overgraze the clearing. Was her half-brother responsible for this sensible management? Or had he long ago left this place, the home of his birth?

  How long would they need to search before finding Reuben Scott?

  A fluffy white dog barked as it bounded off the porch toward them. It was larger than Mustang, their dog back in Canada. In fact, it was closer to the size of Grizz, Uncle Daniel’s dog, who lived in the cabin beside their own.

  Her father rarely showed nerves, but she could feel the tension emanating from his straight posture as they advanced toward the cabin. This must be hard on him, reuniting with the son he’d given up at birth. She’d heard only a few details, but every time he spoke of his lost twins, his eyes took on a sadness that made her want to crawl in his lap and hug the pain away.

  The cabin’s door opened, and a man stepped out. Then a second stranger. Neither was old enough to be Quinn Scott, the person who’d raised her father’s son. In fact, both looked to be nearer her own twenty-four years, or a little older.

  Her pulse thumped harder in her chest. Was one of them her brother?

  The first man stepped to the edge of the porch as they neared, but a hat shielded his face in shadows. The dog trotted back to the porch and took its place beside what must be its master.

  Papa reined in and slid to the ground, dropping his reins so his horse would stand quiet. He didn’t have to tell her and her mother to stay put. This was his moment if one of these turned out to be his son. He would invite her and Mama in when he was ready.

  He stepped forward until only a
half dozen strides separated him from the porch. Neither of the younger men had spoken, as though they could feel the weight of the meeting.

  “Hello.” Papa’s voice eased out in its normal rich cadence. “I’m Simeon Grant. Is Quinn Scott here, by chance?”

  The man nearest the stairs straightened. The words seemed to affect him, but was his reaction strong enough to prove he recognized her father’s name?

  He responded in a clear, strong voice. “My father passed away a couple years ago. I’m Reuben Scott. Can I help you with something?”

  Her breath caught in her lungs, and the gasp beside her proved her mother’s reaction was much the same.

  This was Reuben.

  She couldn’t see Papa’s face, but he did a remarkable job of keeping his reaction from showing in his posture. Would he reveal himself now?

  He took a step closer, his voice dropping, yet she could still hear his strong tenor. “I’m sorry to hear that. What of Mrs. Scott, his wife?”

  “My mother is here, although her memory fails her more often than not. Did my parents know you well?”

  A bead of silence hung before Papa answered. “Our acquaintance wasn’t long, but it meant a great deal to me. And I think to them also.” A vague answer, but still very true.

  Reuben stared at her father for a long moment. Maybe taking his measure? Possibly debating within himself whether it was wise to invite them in.

  At last, he straightened, and his gaze roamed over all three of them. “If you’d like to come in, you can see Mum for a few minutes. Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t remember you. Some days, she doesn’t seem to recognize even me.”

  Papa’s face looked stoic as he turned back to help her mother dismount. A kindness she surely didn’t need, as Mama was as capable in the saddle as any ranch hand. But he always offered, and she always accepted. Maybe more for the kiss he usually stole when her feet touched the ground than anything else.

  This time, he didn’t attempt a kiss, but Hannah couldn’t miss the lingering gaze between them. So much they could say to each other without words, it sometimes brought a lump to her throat. Would she ever find a man who loved her with the same strength her parents felt toward each other?