Chapter 17

Seventeen

Lightning flashed, a bright strike flaring through the building clouds in the south.

The storm was heading this way. Hot wind gusted into Hollis's face, offering no relief. He felt a stirring of unease, as if they might face a flash flood like before, but he reminded himself the company was on a plain, not down by the riverbed where there might be flooding.

From up ahead, August motioned to his right from the back of his horse. Hollis leaned down to see the crushed grass that might mean a horse had passed this way.

It might've also meant a deer. Or buffalo. Or wandering cow.

August had felt well enough to go scouting this morning but had returned to camp quickly, asking Hollis and Owen to accompany him.

Now August reined in, Hollis and Owen just behind him. The two men had resolved their differences and it felt good for Hollis to be able to trust his captain again, even if his other personal concerns remained unresolved.

What had August found? The remains of a campfire—abandoned quickly.

"Up on the bluff," August pointed to the embankment a half-dozen yards above.

The three of them tromped up the incline to the small plateau that created an overlook.

August went on, "There's a place where it looks like he laid on his stomach and watched our camp."

Owen sent a concerned glanced to Hollis. "You were right about someone following us. He's been careful to cover his tracks—until now."

"If he's after the ruby, why didn't he come into camp while everyone was sick?" August wondered aloud.

"He's cautious," Hollis mused. "Maybe he was biding his time. Left when the soldiers rode in."

Owen wore a look tinged with appreciation. "I guess that's another reason to thank you for coming back."

Hollis paced away, scuffing his boot through the grass, looking for any clue the man might've left behind.

"Maybe we can convince Collin to just give it to him," August said to Owen, their voices carrying to Hollis as he moved all the way to the edge of the bluff.

There was a clear view into camp from here. Would be more detailed if the man following them had a pair of field glasses. If he'd spent days camped here, watching, he'd have had time to note all the watches, see the family relationships, know everything about them.

"How would that work?" Owen asked skeptically. "Besides, it's Stella and the girls you'd have to convince."

The jewel didn't belong to the Fairfax women, but it'd ended up in their possession. Hollis would be happy to be rid of it. He didn't need anyone chasing them for the piece of stone stolen from a wealthy Eastern family.

Lightning struck again, lighting up the entire sky, even the side the clouds hadn't covered. It jagged straight to the ground, followed by a boom of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the ground beneath them.

One of the horses whinnied.

Hollis had to blink against the haze of light that wanted to remain in his eyes. "We'd better get back. We'll want to wait out the storm before we travel, especially if it floods?—"

He cut himself off, his eyes on the horizon.

Owen had been saying something to August, but now moved to stand at Hollis's side.

"You smell that?"

The wind seemed to carry a tinge of smoke.

Hollis's heart began to pound. An orange glow lit the horizon, spreading fast.

Heading their way.

"Wildfire," August breathed.

The three men didn't look at each other before they were scrambling down the incline and running for their horses, the animals prancing nervously. The stillness, the heavy air, wind blowing right in their direction. The smell of smoke had already intensified.

Several birds flew overhead, startling Hollis's horse as he stepped one foot into the stirrup. He clung to the saddle horn as the animal sidestepped, finally settling into the seat.

"Can we get into the river?" Owen shouted as they took off for camp.

"It's too dangerous. If it floods, the wagons could be swept away." The river was deep and curved near this section. But the danger of being on the plain was even more terrible. All it would take was one spark tumbling on the wind to catch a canvas on fire.

They couldn't outrun it. The wagons, the cattle, the people—the fire was too fast. Already he felt choked by the smoke.

Were they doomed to lose everything? Had he put Abigail and the rest of the company in danger, risked her life all over again?

He let the still small voice inside him confront the swirling fears.

God wasn't against him. He had his captains at his side. And Hollis was going to fight.

What could stop fire? Water. Dirt to smother it. Lack of fuel.

"We need to start a fire burning in a line toward the north," he shouted to Owen and August. "A break wide enough the wildfire can't jump it."

He detailed his plan in their last paces to reach the wagons. As they neared, all three men dismounted at a run.

Owen shouted for Leo as he ran off in one direction. August went the opposite way, gathering help. Fearful faces immediately confronted Hollis when he strode into the circle of wagons.

"The men are needed on the north side of camp," he ordered. "Every man, as long as you're strong enough to walk. Light a torch. Now!"

Thankfully, no one questioned him. They exuded only a determination to survive and faith in Hollis, who'd come back to help when the sickness had overtaken them.

He only hoped he deserved it.

He let his gaze roam the women around camp, those who'd gathered close.

There. Abigail watched with terrified eyes from near August's wagon.

"Find as many buckets, barrels, and pails as you can. Any of you who can walk or run, come and fill them at the river."

Fear pushed the travelers into motion, pails clanking.

He joined Abigail. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently.

Surprise lit her expression, quickly banked. "Yes."

She couldn't hide the shock when he took the washtub from her hands. "Grab those," he nodded to the two pails in the back of the wagon.

Then he grabbed out two of the quilts that were within arms' reach. "Take blankets," he shouted to the nearest women. "We'll soak them in the water."

He threw the blankets over his shoulder and stuck by Abigail's side as she hurried out of camp and toward the water, two in a steady stream of people attempting to save their lives and possessions.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the men lighting patches of the ground on fire. The wind was working against them, but the men had formed a line and fought with shovels and blankets to keep the fire to the north of their camp.

The break fire licked up the dry grasses, moving more slowly toward the oncoming blaze.

When he went over the lip of the riverbank, he could no longer see them.

Abigail slipped as she scrambled down the bank, landing hard on her backside. He dropped the washtub to grasp her elbow and help her stand. Their gazes caught for a prolonged moment. And then they were off again, running across the muddy bank to the water.

Hollis didn't care that his boots and pant legs got soaked as he filled the washtub as full as he could and still carry it. He pushed both quilts under the water and then slung them around his neck, water streaming down his body. The river was rising, beginning to churn and froth.

Abigail was still weak from the sickness. She struggled with her pails. "Go on," she told him.

He shook his head. "I won't leave you."

For a fractured second, he thought she understood that he meant the words for more than just this moment.

When she'd regained her footing and began to tote the full pails toward the bank and up the incline, he followed her closely with the washtub in his arms.

She broke down coughing halfway to the circled wagon, the acrid smoke burning every breath now. He couldn't let down his tub, but he angled his body so that he blocked what he could of the wind.

Urgency fueled him, but he waited until she looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes. Moisture flowed down his own face, too, as his eyes burned.

He gave directions and each woman relayed them down the line, around the circle. Women scrabbled to take down the canvases from their wagons, to flatten the tents to the ground. Thank God so many had begun to pack up, ready to move out.

The cattle bawled, several cowboys working to keep them in a bunch, keep them from bolting away.

He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and doused it in the tub, then presented it to Abigail. "Tie it over your nose and mouth."

Her hands were trembling too much to complete the task, and he moved closer. She didn't protest when he gently took the fabric from her fingers and tipped her head back to tie it behind.

Awareness slipped over him amidst the chaos in camp. This was the closest they'd been since the kiss he hadn't taken. "I wish I'd kissed you before," he said.

He saw the flash of surprise, but the moment was wrong. He tied on a bandana of his own before directing her to move in front of the wagon.

"Can you help me put the quilts over the wagon?" he asked, the words muffled through his face covering. He threw the sopping wet quilt over the supplies in the bed of the wagon. She was shaking and dropped the corner of the quilt when he flipped his side up.

He wished he could stop and just hold her. They'd run out of time soon enough. In this moment, he had to keep going. But he found a song inside him and let loose with a cracking voice.

" Deep river, my home is over Jordan… "

She froze, staring at him, but then gripped the edge of the quilt and helped him cover the inside of the wagon. Within a few moments, her faltering voice joined his song, just like he'd heard his mother sing it.

" Lord, I want to cross over into campground… "

A cough broke Abigail's dear voice. Smoke was low and thick, covering everything. He couldn't see the men in front of the wagons anymore.

"It's almost here!" someone cried.

There was a roar in his ears—the roar of the fire.

He curled his arm around Abigail and guided her around the back of the wagon. It would offer them scant protection if the fire crossed the line of burned grass where the men had done their best to form a break.

They huddled there, his arms around her, her face tucked into his chest. He prayed, the words falling from his lips and into her hair as she clung to him.

He didn't know whether his hasty plan was going to work. Maybe he'd doomed them all.

Only God knew.

Abigail had never known terror like this.

Or the feeling of being held, protected, in stark contrast to everything happening around them.

Something had changed inside her when Hollis began to sing, his voice sure and strong. Hollis couldn't mean it the way it felt for him to hold her like this. To stay by her side when she'd been fearful and clumsy.

Thunder rolled again, louder than the fire roaring close. Heat licked her exposed skin. Choking smoke made every breath burn.

"It worked!" That might've been Owen's shout, but she couldn't be certain. She couldn't even tell its direction from her place tucked in Hollis's embrace.

Slowly, she peeked over Hollis's shoulder. The wildfire had passed by. A huge swath of flames on either side of their caravan, burning the prairie beyond. But not one of their wagons had caught fire.

Cheers rang out from pioneers, interspersed with coughing.

And still Hollis didn't let go of her.

A moment of breathless quiet, then the sky opened up and a deluge of rain descended. Soft, full rain that soaked into the parched ground.

Hollis's arms loosened around her.

Women raced to reattach the canvases to their wagons in hopes of keeping their supplies somewhat dry.

"I should—" She couldn't finish the statement for the coughing fit that took her. She stepped away from him—only to find him stepping closer, offering his hand beneath her elbow to support her.

The rain chased the fire… and then caught it. More smoke furled as the fire was doused inch by inch. More cheers broke out, interspersed with sobs from young children and fits of coughing from everywhere around.

Tears streamed from Abigail's eyes, both from the soot in the air and from relief. She didn't dare look at Hollis, though she was comforted by his closeness.

Her elbow stung where she'd scraped it when she'd fallen near the river. She didn't realize she was holding her other hand to it until Hollis gently tugged her fingers away.

He let go when a man shouted, "Hollis!"

He was needed. He always would be.

But he didn't take the opportunity to run away.

He waved off the man. "I need a minute to tend to my wife."

Tend to my wife.

The words made her belly swoop low, even though she knew he didn't mean them. She tugged the kerchief down from her face, let it lie around her neck. She was already drenched, but the water felt fresh. Cleansing. "I'm all right."

He stood so near there wasn't space to look away from his intense gaze. "I'd like to see for myself."

He tugged her fingers away from her elbow and gently pushed up her sleeve. The soft touch stung.

"You've scraped it," he said. "I'll fetch some ointment."

Someone else called for him. He didn't even look their way.

"It'll keep," she said.

She couldn't understand his tender treatment, not after the way they'd left things. And new tears spilled from her eyes, tracking slowly down her cheeks.

After a breathless moment of hesitation, he gently cupped her cheeks in his hands, wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "This hardly seems the time or place to say it, but I can't wait."

He looked so serious, his eyes burning into hers with an intensity she recognized from their time together.

"I'm sorry for many things, but especially for pushing you away all this time. I've been fighting my feelings for you—and," he chuckled wearily, "it hasn't done any good."

A beat of hope stole the air and made her breathe a laugh too.

Hollis continued to hold on to her as people exclaimed joyfully around them.

"Your resourcefulness, your kindness, your optimism, all of it drew me from the very first moment."

Was he really saying this? She'd tried to protect her heart and now it seemed hard to believe.

He wasn't finished. "I felt everything... so deeply." He inhaled, his throat worked.

Rain streamed down, but she couldn't look away from him. She knew what he'd been through. How much he had lost. How the fragile feelings must've terrified him.

"I'm finished letting fear rule me. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me?—"

"Of course I can."

Joy lit his eyes from deep inside. Still, a vulnerability remained.

There were shouts from somewhere outside the little circle of herself and Hollis. She vaguely heard someone else make a shushing noise. Or a shooing noise.

All she could see, all she could hear, was Hollis.

"I want our marriage to be real," he said. "You had the courage to demand of me what I should've given from the beginning." He hesitated. "That is, if I'm not too late."

He seemed genuinely worried that she would reject him. She couldn't bear to leave him in suspense. "You aren't too late."

Everything else seemed to fade away as he pulled her into a proper embrace, as his head dipped and he captured her mouth with his.

His lips were warm and tender, his kiss both familiar and new. His embrace felt like coming home.

His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, her cheek, then her forehead.

"I've wanted the right to do this," he murmured into her hair, still holding her close. Her arms clung to his sides.

"I love you, Abigail Tremblay," he whispered.

She went completely still.

Had she imagined the words? She'd wanted to hear them so badly...

She needed to see him, to look into his face. When she pushed against his chest, he loosened his arms so that she could peer up into his eyes.

He looked both frightened and mulish, his chin jutting out as if daring her to contradict him, while his eyes held a vulnerability that echoed inside her.

"I love you, too," she said. "I tried not to. I know you didn't want a second wife, after losing Dinah."

"I did want you for my wife," he admitted. "Only I was afraid of losing you too. When you got sick, I felt so lost—that's how I knew the strength of my feelings."

Rain dripped down his face, but when he wiped one hand over his eyes and cheeks, she guessed that perhaps there were a few tears mingled in.

Love swelled inside her, full to bursting. Her husband had such a tender heart, a strong heart to protect those under his care.

God had given her this man. A new future. It stretched before her, full of endless hope.