Where the Wind Blows (4 page)

Around the table, the morning meal of oatmeal and biscuits was concluding. Exceedingly cramped, the three adults, Gabe, and Sarah all competed for space.

For a moment, Jessie was lost in thought, her chair wedged close to Mr. Logan’s. Their arms brushed intimately from time to time, sending an intense surge of confusion with each encounter. Her make-believe spouse, agreeable and at ease, eating and chatting with Mr. Hobbs, was the picture of husbandly consideration. The meal progressed without blunder on either her or Mr. Logan’s part, and his presence had actually been a pleasure. She was relieved.

Chase was excusing himself, when Mr. Hobbs, with a gleam in his withered, old eyes asked, “So Nathan, how did you find our Jess? Where did the two of you meet? I never did get the full story.”

Chase wiped his mouth slowly. “We met…” He cleared his throat and glanced at Jessie. “We met…”

Jessie rested her hand on Chase’s forearm. “I met Nathan…in a town where I finally secured employment,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Chase interrupted. “She was inquiring about work at the mercantile. She was so slender and beautiful.” He drew out each flattering word as if it were honey on his lips. “I just
had
to introduce myself. Whoever could forget those beautiful blue eyes?”

Turning, he smiled into her face. “I couldn’t even look away. I was smitten.”

Jessie forced herself to gaze lovingly back at Chase, hop-
ing she didn’t look as foolish as she felt. His eyes twinkled with such merriment, she wanted to stomp on his foot, but instead she picked up his plate and took it to the sink.

“I was buying supplies that day,” he went on. “It was a very fast courtship.” He laughed, a rich, deep sound, bringing with it a ripple of pleasure. “I wasn’t letting that one get away.”

Mr. Hobbs eyes were brimming with tenderness. His lips tipped in a smile, and he nodded.

Jessie went back and forth clearing the table. His version of the story was much prettier than the truth. Much sweeter than a handful of desperate women perched on a platform in front of a room full of hungry men. Less hurtful than the sight of everyone averting their gaze when they were shown a portion of her ugly, scarred back. Much less humiliating than being the only one left, standing there alone. That is, until Nathan Strong stepped forward to offer her his hand.

Yes. She liked Chase’s version much better.

Chase stood and excused himself and went into the bedroom.

“Full, Sarah?” Jessie inquired, changing the subject. Her peaceful bubble had burst. Agitation from the horribly dishonest situation she’d gotten herself into enveloped her. Her insides knotted up, tight and unsettling.

The little girl nodded, then turned her attention to Gabe, sticking her spoon into his bowl.

“I’m trying to get her to mind her manners, ma’am, but she won’t. She’s real perky today.” The boy removed her spoon from his empty bowl and placed it back into her own.

“Well, we’re packed and ready to go,” Mr. Hobbs announced. “I hope you will forgive me, Jessie, for the short stay, but I don’t want to wait. If we do, we may get snowed in.” He paused, looking doubtful. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you and Mr. Strong.”

“I’m here,” said Chase as he came through the bedroom
door. He had his saddlebags slung over his shoulder and rifle in hand.

“Gabe, take our bags out to the wagon, please,” Mr. Hobbs said. When the boy was gone, he continued. “I’m not trying to force you into any quick decisions, but I really brought Gabe out in hopes you might be able to take him in, too. He’s almost to the age where he’ll be going off on his own, so he wouldn’t be a hardship for long. Actually, I think he could be a big help to you.” Mr. Hobbs ran his handkerchief across his forehead. “He can hunt and track. He’s capable and handy—and a good boy.”

Turning to Jessie, Mr. Hobbs beseeched her. “I’m sorry to be putting you on the spot like this, but there’s really no room for him at the orphanage. We’re overcrowded. If you don’t take him in, I’ll be forced to find him a job in some town.” His face was solemn. “And as you know, that’s a pig in a poke.”

Mr. Hobbs took a breath and went on quickly. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how attached he is to Sarah. Thinks of her as his sister. He had one, but on the wagon train west the cholera took her, along with his parents. He’s had a lot of heartache for one so young.”

Chase thought about Gabe. How old was he? Thirteen?

That was considered a man in the West. He’d be a huge help to Jessie when it was time for Chase to leave.

“The boy stays,” Chase said and looked down at Jessie to see if she was going to argue with him. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

She hesitated slightly before she relaxed and leaned into his side. “Yes, we’d be happy to have him,” Jessie replied with a breathless voice.

Jessie walked over to the fire, where Gabe waited after
returning from the wagon, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We’d be proud to have you in our family. It won’t be easy living out here, but you seem like the type who’d take to it well.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Gabe said somberly. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

“I will if you keep calling me ma’am,” she said playfully. “It’s Jessie. I insist.”

Mr. Hobbs was all smiles. “Marvelous! Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get the papers signed so I can be on my way.” Mr. Hobbs rummaged through his things until he drew out a handful of crumpled papers.

Chase’s palms began to sweat. Jessie would think him a simpleton for sure. Just because he couldn’t read or write didn’t mean he was stupid. He just never had the same chances other children did. He’d spent all his time surviving.

Mr. Hobbs laid the papers on the table and dipped his pen into his capsule of ink. “Just sign here at the bottom.”

Chase looked down at the papers as if he were reading them over, a skill he’d perfected over the years. He looked to Jessie and then to Mr. Hobbs.

“Ladies first.”

Jessie took the pen. She placed it on the second line and slowly scrolled her name,
Jessica Marie Strong,
in elegant curving letters. Her penmanship was an art.

“Your turn,” she said, and handed the pen to Chase. Taking it without hesitation, he dipped into the ink and scratched out an
X
on the top line above her name. Without another word, he turned, took the food Jessie had wrapped up for him, and nodded to the group.

“He’s going hunting,” Jessie said, filling in the embarrassing gap. She followed Chase to the door. A blast of north wind blew in, bringing with it the cold, crisp scent of winter.

“Well, I’m off, too,” Mr. Hobbs said. “Take good care of Sarah, and Gabe, you help Jessie and Mr. Strong. Mind your manners.”

They embraced for long moments and Jessie couldn’t hold back her tears. “Tell everyone I said hello.”

“I will, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead then set her away from him and brushed her tears away with his thumb. “I’m just so thankful to see how wonderful everything has turned out for you. Take good care.”

The cabin seemed very quiet now without the two men. Several hours passed in conversation and games with Sarah. Jessie busied herself making bread. She kneaded dough until she thought her arms would fall off, and then set the pans by the fire to rise.

“I’m going to fetch some water. Will you keep your eye on Sarah, make sure she stays far away from the fire?” She buttoned up her coat and pulled on some mittens.

Gabe stood immediately and looked over at the pump in the kitchen, confused. “Water?”

“That only gives me a trickle. When I have washing, I go to the creek.”

“I’ll go. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Thanks, but I really need to get outside for a little while. I’ve been inside so long I’m about to go stir crazy. Fresh air will do me good.” She appreciated his willingness to help. “Be back in a jiffy.”

Bundled up, with bucket in hand, Jessie made her way along the narrow path behind the cabin. It meandered some twenty feet, then disappeared into a grove of trees. Ducking under the moistened limbs she let her eyes adjust to the darkened woodland and then carefully descended the short decline. It was icy. Time and again she forced her thoughts away from Mr. Logan.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Chase? And why had he returned in the first place? Just to help her? That had to be it. He’d had a change of heart after seeing Sarah. Why else?

The rushing water lapped along its banks, splashing and looking for an escape. The narrow beach, scattered with rock of all sizes and shades, gave her immense pleasure. Nathan had told her that this exact spot had moved him so much, he had leased the cabin immediately and settled here. She came here often when she felt lonely, and it always lifted her spirits. It was beautiful beyond compare.

Taking care not to get the hem of her dress wet, Jessie knelt on her usual rock and hefted the wooden bucket by its rope handle, dipping it in the water. The bucket caught with force as water splashed over her arms, nearly pulling it from her grasp.

As she struggled to hold on, a movement on the opposite bank made her look up. Jessie’s heart stopped. The bucket dropped from her fingers and careened away.

Not thirty feet away sat three Indians on their horses.

Jessie scrambled backward off the rock. As she did, her dress tangled in her boots, and she landed hard on the sand. Her gut reaction was to turn and run, but she remembered what Nathan had told her the first time he had left her here alone.
If you see an Indian, try not to show any fear. Don’t scream or run. Most are curious about white women is all, and just want a look.

Ignoring the pain radiating through her body, Jessie slowly picked herself up and started cautiously backing away.

Two were magnificent-looking men in their buckskins and feathers. Their cloaks were made of animal skin of some kind, which still had a head attached and dangling off to the side. The Indians’ faces revealed not the slightest expression as Jessie stared into their eyes.

The third Indian was a youth, probably around Gabe’s age. He held the reins of a riderless horse that danced around nervously, snorting and pawing the ground. When the horse turned, the saddle and saddlebags on the horse were familiar.

“Oh no,” Jessie whispered under her breath. “Chase.” Summoning her courage, she forced her legs to move, to climb up the bank. Backing slowly all the way to the edge of the trees, she then turned and ran to the cabin.

“Gabe!” She pounded the door with her frozen fists. “Open up!”

The door flew open, and Jessie bolted inside. She slammed it with both hands and dropped the bar. She struggled to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Indians. Three by the creek. They have Chase’s horse.”

“Who’s Chase?” he asked, confused.

“Nathan! Chase is his nickname and what I call him most.”

“You’re sure it was his? Lots of horses look the same.”

“I’m sure. I need to look for him. If he’s still alive—oh God, let him be alive—,” she panted, “I’ll bring him home.”

“I’m the one who should go,” Gabe protested. “If you find him, you won’t be able to lift him or nothing. How will you get him back here?”

Desperation burned inside Jessie. She wouldn’t think about that now. She worked quickly to put on more layers of clothing. That was a bridge she’d cross when she found him. Sarah, frightened from all the turmoil, started crying.

Gabe took Jessie by the shoulders. “Stop. I’ll find him. I promise. If you go, you’ll just end up freezing to death, and then Sarah will be an orphan again. Do you want her to go back to the orphanage?”

Jessie strengthened her resolve. Gabe was right. He was stronger. He knew how to track.

How long had Chase been gone? Four hours? How long before a man froze to death in this weather? A million and one questions exploded in her mind.

“I’ll need some food. No telling how long this’ll take.” Reaching into his pack, Gabe pulled out a Colt .45. He spun the chamber, then started loading it.

“You know how to use that?”

“I’m a deadeye. I hunted for the wagon train all the time.”

“Have you ever shot a man?”

“No. But if it comes down to that…”

Jessie stepped close. “I hope it won’t, Gabe. Please be careful. Come back, and bring Chase. God go with you.”

Jessie picked up Sarah and held her so she could give Gabe
a kiss good-bye. Silently Jessie prayed that she was doing the right thing in sending Gabe to find Chase. Or was she condemning the boy to his
own
death?

Chase lay facedown on the frozen ground. The arm trapped beneath his body throbbed, but he couldn’t muster the strength to roll over. Pain unlike any he’d ever experienced pressed his skull with unbelievable force. The damp, debrisstrewn forest floor was hard as stone, and every inch of his body ached.

What happened? He remembered taking aim on the deer he’d been tracking. The next thing he knew, he was kissing the cold, hard ground in this uncomfortable position.

Blood.

He could smell it, but didn’t know where it was coming from. His mind strained to put the pieces together. His thoughts were like little silver fish, darting around. Try as he might, he was unable to grasp a single one.

Focusing on a leaf lying close to his nose, Chase struggled to stay awake. His last thought before losing consciousness was of a pretty young girl with shining hair the color of the sun. The scent of vanilla made his lips tip up. Had he actually held her hand, her warmth mingling with his own? Or had it all been a dream? As he faded into darkness, he held fast to the memory as long as he could.

Mr. Strong’s trail was easy to find. Gabe kept his body low to the ground and moved quickly. Back in Virginia, his father had taught him early on how to survive in the woods. His father had taken pride in his only son.

“Pa, I sure miss you, and boy, could I use your help right about now. This isn’t a game today. A man’s life is at stake.”

Gabe scanned the clearing and found the deer tracks Mr. Strong had been following. Moving too quickly when track-
ing could be a deadly mistake. Pausing, he studied his back trail for any signs of movement.

The woodland was eerie. Quiet. Nothing but him and the crunch of the frozen ground. He didn’t want to think about what he would do if he came face-to-face with the Indians Jessie had seen. Stories of what they did to their white captives had abounded on the wagon train. They were too gruesome to think about now.

Behind, something rolled down the ravine. Gabe whirled, heart pounding, and drew his gun at the…pinecone. It wobbled a couple times, then stilled. It took a few moments for Gabe’s heart to stop breaking through his chest. Smiling his relief, he went on.

Rounding the bend, he spotted Mr. Strong sprawled out facedown on the ground. Not one hundred feet away lay a deer, dead, a clean shot through the heart.

His heart beating like a tom-tom, Gabe forced himself to advance slowly. Rolling Mr. Strong over took some effort. A crease on his forehead oozed blood, which trickled over his face and down his neck. Gabe put his ear to Mr. Strong’s mouth to listen for any sign of life.

It was difficult for Gabe to hear anything over the pounding of the blood rushing through his veins. After a moment, Mr. Strong’s breath came soft as a whisper, and relief washed over the boy. Taking his blanket out of his pack, Gabe quickly covered him, tucking it in tight.

“I don’t want to leave the deer you risked your life for, so I’m going to take three minutes to string it up and gut it, right quick. Meat’s too hard to come by to be wasted.”

While he worked, Gabe pondered how he’d get Mr. Strong back to the cabin. When he was done with the deer, he swiftly hacked down two young birch trees. He took the blanket off Chase and tied it to the poles with leather thongs, creating a travois.

“This should hold to get you back.” Gabe struggled to scoot Mr. Strong onto the contraption.

“What took you so long?”

Gabe jumped at the sound of the raspy voice.

“Easy,” Mr. Strong soothed. “It’s just you and me, and right now I’m feeling about next to nothin’. Where’s my horse?”

“Indians have him. Jessie saw them by the creek. There were three of them, and four horses. She said it was Cody and sent me out after you.”

Chase moaned when Gabe picked up the ends of the travois. “Hang on, Mr. Strong. Pulling you over these hills will be like trying to pick fly dung outta the pepper pot.”