Faith in the Mountain Valley Read online

  The thought pressed hard in her chest. Surely he didn't have a wife anymore, not with the way he looked at her. Lord, don't let me lose my heart to him again.

  She forced that line of thinking away and pushed up to standing.

  The world swayed around her, finally fading to a dark gray. She took in a deep breath, reaching out to catch her balance. She couldn't fall. If she fainted, Jean-Jacques would insist they wait another day.

  But as she inhaled more steady breaths, her vision cleared. She had to focus on moving her feet, but her body finally found its balance as she stepped toward the trees opposite where Jean-Jacques worked.

  She desperately needed a creek to give herself a good cleaning. From what Jean-Jacques had said, the nearest one was down the mountain. She vaguely remembered passing it but didn’t have a very good idea how far down it was. She probably couldn't walk that distance. Perhaps once they started out, they could stop a while there. Perhaps she could find some trees to shield her while she accomplished a sponge bath.

  Jean-Jacques was kneeling by the fire when she returned to camp, but he stood at her approach. His eyes studied her, and she managed a smile for him. Just walking the short distance made her breathe hard, but she did her best to quiet her inhales and act stronger than she felt. "I'm ready to ride out when you are."

  His gaze turned earnest as he studied her face. "Colette." His voice had softened into that tone that gripped her heart. "We don't have to rush your recovery. We can stay here as long as you need. You and the baby both."

  Heat swept up her neck at the comment. She'd not talked of the baby with anyone, at least not in such a casual tone. The words sounded so intimate spoken aloud, especially when she wasn’t on her deathbed.

  Her hand wandered to her belly. Was she pushing the little one too hard? Surely a few hours’ ride wouldn't be too much. The horse would be doing most of the work.

  She lifted her gaze to Jean-Jacques’s again. This time she softened her voice to match his. "I really do think I'm strong enough. My horse is gentle, and the ride is only a few hours."

  His expression turned skeptical at her last comment. "We’ll need to keep the horses to a walk, so we’ll be lucky to make it by nightfall."

  She turned toward her bedroll. "Let's get packing then."

  "You." The way he emphasized the word stopped her short. "Sit down and rest while I pack and saddle the horses."

  That might be the better choice to conserve what little strength she had. But she wouldn’t say that thought aloud.

  Chapter 14

  French eyed Colette's swaying form as the horses maneuvered up the mountain trail. They’d been riding a couple hours now, and he'd kept his mount beside her most of the time, except when the trail grew too narrow. She'd maintained a brave face, but the dark circles under her eyes deepened the longer they rode.

  And now, this view from behind had him even more worried. Her side-to-side swaying was far more than what would result from normal shifting with the horse’s stride. She clutched her saddle tight. If she grew so weak she fell off the horse, the tumble could do real damage to the baby. And if she hit her head on a rock… He couldn't let that happen.

  At the first section where the trail widened enough for two horses to walk abreast, he called up to Colette. "Stop here a minute."

  She reined in. As he rode alongside her, she was still clutching the saddle and hunching low, as though it took all her strength to hold on. Exhaustion dimmed her eyes.

  He scooted back in his saddle, then tapped the seat in front of him. “Ride with me a while. That way you don't have to use energy to sit upright."

  Her eyes shifted to the spot in front of him. She must have been as exhausted as she appeared, for she didn’t hesitate. Simply leaned toward him and tried to lift her leg over his saddle to slide from her mount onto his. She didn't even have energy for that.

  He reached out and gripped under her arms, then hoisted her onto his saddle. She finally managed to move her leg up over his mare’s neck.

  The fit was tight, and at first she seemed to be trying to hold herself upright—away from him. Her hair tickled his face as he breathed in the familiar scent of her. He'd strapped her hat on her bed roll, so it didn’t serve as a barrier between them now. Her shorter hair was free to blow in the breeze, and now that it wasn't constrained, the strands looked longer than he’d thought before.

  Having her so near made his heart hammer so hard he could barely breathe. He did his best to shake himself free from the spell. "Just give me a minute to tie your mare behind mine, then you can lean back against me."

  Once they were moving again, Colette sank back against his chest. He could ride forever like this, having her so near. Cradled in his arms.

  Hopefully soon, she’d agree to marry him, and he could hold her like this even when she wasn't too exhausted to keep herself upright.

  By the time they reached the next valley, the sun had peaked in the sky. They stopped by another creek to let the horses drink and to refill their canteens. They'd both been eating as they rode, but the chance to stretch their legs and attend to personal needs was welcome.

  After returning from a patch of trees, Colette sank to the ground and waited for him to finish tending the animals. She didn't look quite as spent as when he’d moved her to his saddle earlier, but she would definitely need to ride with him again for the second half of the journey.

  She must have felt the same, for she waited for him to help her mount his horse. Within minutes, he climbed up behind her and they settled into their earlier rhythm. Her head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck.

  About an hour into the afternoon, her body had gone completely limp against him. The one time he leaned forward to glimpse her face, her eyes were closed, her mouth parted in steady breathing.

  She was so beautiful. And even more so when she trusted him this fully. His heart ached with the love growing stronger every day. There was nothing he wouldn't do for this woman. And now, he was quickly feeling the same way about the babe who grew inside of her. That child was part of her—the Colette he loved.

  French had been pushing to arrive back in camp before dark, but stars had just begun to twinkle in the darkness when they crossed the familiar creek. He guided the horses to where the other animals were hobbled to graze, then reined in at the edge of the trees.

  Colette straightened in front of him. The last few hours, he'd not been sure if she was awake or dozing. Now, she looked around as though trying to place her surroundings.

  "We’re back. I'll get you to camp, then come see to the horses." He eased down from his saddle, then reached up to help Colette down.

  When he placed her on her feet, her legs didn't hold her at first, and she would have gone to her knees if he hadn't been gripping her upper arms.

  Gradually, she stood without his help, but she still clutched the saddle.

  He kept his hands hovering nearby just in case she needed him. "Do you want to try to walk, or would you rather I carry you?"

  "I can walk." Her voice came quiet, drained of energy.

  "Let me tie the horses, then I'll go with you."

  While Colette still clung to the saddle, he quickly secured both mares and unfastened her pack, tossing it over his shoulder so he could have both hands free to help her.

  He gripped her arm to support her, and they started toward camp. They’d barely stepped into the woods when a figure appeared through the trees ahead.

  French's heart stuttered, even though he was expecting one of the men to come see who’d arrived. Still, the brave’s stealthy appearance might've taken a year off of French’s life. He cleared his throat. "Left Standing."

  The man took them in and must have seen Colette's condition. "Come to the fire. There is food, though not so good as what you cook."

  He turned and led the way toward camp. The glowing fire called to them through the trees, and the other braves were sitting in their usual positions, most with bark slabs for plate
s in front of them. Young Bear held his pipe. All looked their way as they stepped into the clearing.

  French offered a tight smile of greeting. "Sorry we were gone so long. Mignon took sick and needed a few days before he was strong enough to ride back."

  He hated the lie of calling Colette a man. Especially when everyone here likely saw through it. He glanced at her. With her white-blonde hair ruffled and no hat in sight, she looked even more like a woman. She also looked weak and exhausted and in need of a soft bed and gentle care.

  He motioned toward Colette's bedroll, still exactly where she'd left it two days before. "Lie down and we’ll get you some food."

  She didn't argue or even try to explain their absence to the others. One more sign she was spent beyond herself.

  As he helped Colette onto her bedding, Hawk Wing’s voice sounded from near the fire. "We began to think you meant to leave us. But with these nice furs waiting, we thought you would return."

  With Colette settled, French turned to the man and summoned a grin. "If anything ever happened to us, you all are welcome to split our furs among you. You’ve been good companions. But we aren't planning to go anywhere. Didn't expect to be gone so long this time."

  As French stepped to the fire, Elk Runs lifted two bark plates of meat to him. The man must have cooking duty for the day. They might all be relieved to have their camp keeper back.

  French nodded his thanks. "Looks good."

  After laying the food beside Colette and watching her take the first bite, her eyes almost too heavy-lidded to keep open as she chewed, he turned back and settled in the empty spot between Hawk Wing and Young Bear.

  While the men caught him up on the happenings over the last few days, several of them sent occasional glances toward Colette. Were they simply curious? Worried about her? Or did they suspect something?

  It wasn't right to lie to them any longer. These men had shown themselves to be friendly, fair, and hard-working. They'd shared willingly and never given cause for alarm with him and Colette, except maybe the other night when strong drink had been involved.

  His instincts told him it was time to come clean. Or at least ask questions that might tell him how much they'd guessed.

  Tomorrow. He'd find Young Bear when the man was alone and start the conversation. Should he ask Colette first? No, he’d find out how much the man knew and tell her what he learned. Then she could choose how much more to reveal.

  Colette slept hard through the night and was still breathing the steady rhythm of deep sleep when French checked on her the next morning. He’d already emptied both of their trap lines and now laid a bundle of wrapped meat beside her so she could eat when she woke. He also had ground cornmeal set aside to make gruel.

  But perhaps the corn gruel had been the cause of her sickness the other night. The thought gave him pause as he stared at the stew pot.

  She'd said she thought it was bad meat, so he'd thrown out the few pieces in her pack that looked questionable. Then he’d re-cooked the rest of their meat supply up on the mountain. He'd intentionally eaten her stock himself and fed her from his, so she wouldn't be affected if the food was tainted in some other way. Neither of them had suffered stomach ailment after that, so he'd assumed the problem had been put behind them.

  But might the corn be tainted? That was the last thing she’d eaten before leaving camp.

  He was fairly certain it wasn't possible to undercook dried corn. In fact, people sometimes ate the stuff without grinding and cooking it. Neither he nor the other men had suffered ill effects from the corn. So maybe there was nothing wrong with it.

  Either way, he'd get Colette's thoughts on the matter before he fed her any. If she felt comfortable eating corn gruel, he'd make sure he boiled it plenty long.

  With a final glance to make sure Colette still slept, he started out to the skinning area to process that morning's take.

  He worked with all five of the other men for a while. Then one by one, the others finished with their catch and left for other duties, leaving only Young Bear and him. The older man worked slower than the younger braves. Maybe this was the right time to see what Young Bear knew.

  French hadn’t been able to talk with Colette yet to decide how much to share, but he simply wouldn't give away anything the fellow hadn't already guessed.

  Young Bear kept his pipe nearby, something he didn't do often when he worked. When he finished with a hide—and once or twice in the midst of working on it—he would pause and reach for the pipe, then puff for several minutes.

  During one of those breaks, French straightened from the beaver skin he was scraping and stretched to work out the aches in his back. He'd certainly strengthened some muscles during this time with the braves. The couple days off had made things more challenging this morning.

  He sent Young Bear a glance. How to begin? He should have given more thought to what he would say to prod details from the man. He could usually start a conversation with a story, but what tale would be right to lead off this questioning?

  Before he could find an answer, Young Bear spoke. "Mignon is better this morning?" He took another puff from the pipe as he waited for French’s answer.

  That was the right topic. Maybe this conversation would flow easier than he'd thought.

  "Still sleeping." He was careful not to use the word he. "When I came upon the mare up in the mountains, Mignon was in rough shape. Not conscious and barely breathing. Thought bad meat might've been the cause."

  Young Bear nodded. "Is weak still." Was he also being careful not to use anything that would show Colette’s gender? Or maybe that was simply the extent of his skill speaking English.

  French nodded. "Yes. Very." He needed to find a question to lead into how much Young Bear knew about her. "Have you known Mignon long?" That might make the man wonder, for he must expect that Colette had told French already.

  Young Bear inhaled from his pipe, watching French with an indecipherable expression. He exhaled a long puff. The scent of tobacco lingered, even across the half-dozen strides between them. The man still didn't answer but took another puff, then another long exhale. Was he deciding how much to tell?

  At last, he seemed to make up his mind. "Mignon joined us a few days after we left the rendezvous. I knew all was not as told to us. But I have three daughters, too, and I would want others to give them help when needed."

  French's pulse leapt, and he studied the man. Was he saying…? He had to be. Three daughters, he'd said.

  He had to make sure. "You knew?" He wasn't giving away Colette’s secret, simply asking a question.

  The man puffed out a stream of smoke. "She must have need of protection. I would want the same for my daughters."

  Relief sagged through French. He inhaled a deep breath, then nearly choked on the tobacco stench. But the relief was too strong for anything to bother him.

  He met Young Bear’s gaze. "Thank you. You're a good man, as I had already come to believe."

  French took in another breath as he worked to gather his thoughts. His gaze slipped toward the camp. Toward Colette. Should he say anything about her plight? Her condition? Or even who French was to her?

  That last thought was laughable. He still wasn't sure what he was to Colette. Though he planned to make that clear soon enough.

  Better to keep the rest to himself. The story was Colette's, however much she felt comfortable sharing.

  In the meantime, he should find out a bit more about what they knew. He turned back to Young Bear. "The others?"

  The man nodded. "They are good men, though some young. She is a sister to them."

  Another wave of relief. A sister. The kind a man protected. He sharpened his gaze on Young Bear and made sure the truth of his words thickened his voice. "I'm so glad she found you."

  Chapter 15

  Sleep still weighed heavily on Colette, stealing the strength from her muscles. But she forced herself to sit upright.

  They’d made it back to camp. Clearly they had
, for she was sitting on her own bedroll in the area beside the cliff wall. But the ride here was so hazy in her mind, she couldn't recall more than vague impressions. The security of Jean-Jacques's arms around her as she leaned back against him. The desperate thirst that assaulted her as they rode. The way her belly constantly grumbled for food. More meat. Did the baby really require so much? She might have to use up all her time simply eating and drinking. All her energy too.

  Even now, her middle grumbled, and other needs made themselves known too. Better start with the food though, lest the nausea raise its voice again.

  Jean-Jacques must have placed the leather-wrapped bundle of meat beside her blankets. If only he'd left her canteen there too. A glance at her pack showed it laid on top, so she only had to reach for it.

  That simple stretch left her breathing harder. She sat upright and gave herself the leisure of eating and drinking as much as her body needed while she gathered strength to stand.

  Once her insides had finally stopped complaining—except for that other need which was becoming more urgent—she corked the canteen and set the food aside. Now she had to summon the energy to retreat to her private spot.

  She worked herself up to standing. But then the darkness closed in, blocking out her vision. She threw out her arms for balance, but everything around her spun. Don't let me fall, Lord.

  She was falling—backward. But maybe that was a trick of her senses?

  She bent forward to shift her balance and right herself, but her vision darkened even more. Panic washed through her, and she tensed for impact, flailing her arms to stop herself no matter which way she toppled.

  A hand clenched her upper arm, and another supported her back. Catching her. Lifting her.

  She reached out for the arm, for something secure to grab onto. Her hand closed around solid buckskin. Jean-Jacques must have saved her again. She grabbed hold with both hands as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her body to settle.

  Finally, the sensation of spinning stilled, and she eased open her eyes.