Chapter 29

29

T he sky was a clear blue as Leah followed the trail through the woods, with Drifter trotting in her horse's tracks. The quiet time was perfect to thank her Father for the beauty all around. And, of course, she sent up her usual prayers for Gideon and Miriam back at the cabin. She was careful to stay away from the topic of her future in her prayer, though. She would need to face reality once the snow melted, but no need to push things yet. For now, she could enjoy this peaceful haven in the mountains.

When the trees broke and she arrived at the overlook, she paused for a moment to enjoy the view. It still took her breath away—the wild beauty of this scene. The white valley far below, rising into majestic peaks in the distance. She understood how Gideon felt when he'd said the land was a part of him. Her chest ached at the thought of leaving this place.

What would it be like to marry a mountain man and stay here forever? Images of Gideon flashed through her mind. First the strong, hardened, emotionless man she'd met when she arrived at the ranch, then the tender strength he'd shown after she changed his bandage the other night. There had been emotion in that face, to be sure. But could Gideon ever allow himself to love her? He'd been through so much. Would he let his defenses down again? Only God could make that happen…but would He?

She kneed the mare forward, heading toward the pasture where the stock milled about. She did a quick visual inspection of the animals as she rode to the tree where she usually tied her mare. All seemed to be in good shape, although they started mooing as soon as they saw her.

"Sorry, guys. I don't have hay for you today. I'll get you water, though, before I move the supplies." A nicker from the horses at the far side of the field answered her.

Once she'd cracked the ice, loaded most of the materials from the little barn into her saddle bags, and tied the bucket of medicine onto her saddle, she mounted and rode toward the tree line at the higher end of the pasture. The deer trail lay right where Gideon had described it. Then she followed the tiny hoof marks in the snow as the trail wound ever higher up the mountain.

At last, she came out into an open area, smaller than the lower pasture where the cows were now. On one side, a rocky overhang jutted out of the mountainside, creating a shelter underneath. The snow lay in a serene blanket, unbroken by the tumult of hooves.

An area under the tree canopy looked like a good spot to place the supplies. After securing them, she mounted her mare and rode back to the lower pasture for the hard part—moving the herd.

Gideon was a good teacher, to be sure, and his methods worked. She found the lead cow he'd described, then worked to separate her from the herd.

She flapped her hands to move the animal toward the trail. "Come on, girl, let's go."

Nothing. The cow just glared at her.

Leah nudged her horse forward a step. "Hey there, let's show the others what to do. Come on."

With much coaxing and after several tries, she finally had the old girl moving down the deer trail. Drifter circled the remainder of the herd, yipping and nipping at their legs. Wonder of wonders, the animals began to amble after their leader.

Leah stayed about fifteen feet behind the animal, like Gideon had instructed, letting her move at her own pace. The cow seemed smart, though, and stayed on the trail. As they neared the higher clearing, she picked up her pace, as if she'd done this particular routine more than once, and knew good things were coming.

Once the animals broke into the clearing, they spread out, stomping and pawing through the snow around the tree line where it wasn't as deep. She couldn't hold back a wide grin. She'd made it. At least with most of the herd. A few cattle still drifted into the clearing from the trail. She would make sure all the animals were in the new pasture when she went to get the horses.

The elation at moving a herd of seventy cows on her own—with Drifter, that is—soon faded as she tried to break through the ice in the stream. This virgin ice had hardened thicker than most tree trunks, and she couldn't tell if there was any running water underneath at all. After half an hour of sheer determination, she finally collapsed against a pine, the gurgle of water her reward for the incredible effort. If only Emily could see her now.

The deeper chill of late afternoon had taken over when she finally mounted her mare and scanned the animals in the clearing for the last time. A warm feeling of accomplishment drifted over her, infusing strength into her weary muscles.

Gideon had described a shorter trail she could take which would meet up with the main path going back to the cabin, and she found it easily enough. She relaxed as they made their way home. She was almost a real rancheress, with her horse and her dog.

A menacing growl from behind raised the hairs on her arms. She twisted in the saddle to see Drifter frozen in place, with his attention pinned to something off the trail to their right. Her horse seemed to see it now, too, as the mare's ears pricked and muscles tensed.

Leah squinted in the direction the animals pointed, but had trouble seeing anything against the blinding white of the snow.

There. A movement through the trees. It could have been a branch swaying in the wind, but the tension in her chest told her it was not.

Should she run? Or approach to see if it was one of the cattle? But if it wasn't one of the herd, the movement could have been from a mountain lion, a bear, or who knew what else.

Before she could decide, the object moved again, this time morphing into two men on horses. But they weren't just any men. As they rode closer, her skin tingled and she froze. The men had brown skin, sharp cheekbones, and long black braids.

Indians.

The horses stopped thirty feet away from her, the Indians staring stone-faced under their heavy furs. They seemed to be taking her measure, but all she could do was stare. If she turned away, would they chase her?

For what seemed an eternity, they all stood and watched each other. Then the taller man spoke to his partner, his voice rising and falling in a lively cadence—the sounds all gibberish to Leah. The shorter Indian responded with a single guttural noise.

Would they understand English? Just when she had worked up the courage to speak to them, the Indians turned their horses in unison, like a well-rehearsed ballet, and rode back the way they'd come.

Had she really just seen Indians? It had all happened so quickly, the experience now seemed surreal. But no, the tracks were there, plain as day. And Drifter still sat by her horse's hooves, emitting a low growl every few minutes.

Her horse stamped in the snow and jerked on the reins, pulling Leah from her reverie. She urged her mare forward. They needed to get away from here. What she wouldn't give to be tucked safely inside the warm cabin right now.

Leah saved her dramatic Indian story for after dinner, when they were all gathered around the fireplace. Leah and Miriam sat in chairs, while Gideon was still propped against pillows on the floor.

He listened to her recounting in silence, a wrinkle between his brows. At last he spoke. "Were they wearing any paint on their faces or horses?"

Leah brought back the image of the men in her mind. "I don't think so. One of them wore a fur hood, but I could still see his face. I don't remember any paint."

He nodded, the wrinkle lessening a bit. "Sounds like they were Apsaroke, probably a hunting party passing through. They sometimes have a winter camp a couple of mountains over, but I haven't seen them yet this year."

Leah raised her brows. "I've never heard of Apsaroke before. Are they friendly?"

Gideon shrugged, then winced at the movement. "The white men call them Crow, but they call themselves Apsaroke. They're usually friendly, especially in these parts where there aren't that many white men. If they were wearing war paint, I might be worried. But they usually try to stay on good terms with us. We don't bother them, they don't bother us, and we all take care of the land."

A shiver ran down Leah's spine. From fear or excitement?

Gideon relished the sharpness of the icy air on his face and the feel of horseflesh beneath him. It had been almost two weeks since his encounter with the bear, and Doctor Leah had finally released him to accompany her as she went out to care for the herd.

Of course, she'd only agreed after he promised not to carry anything heavy or do something dangerous. His lips twitched at the memory of the plucky little woman with hands propped at her waist, her chin locked in determination and both green eyes shooting fire.

The truth was, between his ribs and his head, he'd just now gotten to where he could stand up without groaning and reaching for a chair to keep himself vertical. He'd acted miffed with Leah for playing the part of his jailor, but he probably wouldn't have been able to mount his horse without help before now.

Getting back out on the trail though, that was what he needed. The world was right. And for some reason, the woman riding on the bay mare behind him seemed to fit perfectly in this right world.

When they reached the upper pasture, he tied both of their horses while Leah grabbed the ax and headed toward the creek. He made his way through the cattle, eyeballing them as he rubbed itchy spots. It was hard to relax, though, with the echo of the ax ricocheting through the clearing. He gripped his hands into fists to fight the guilt. She shouldn't be doing the hard work while he stood there useless.

He moved toward the sound, the frustration building as she came into view. Leah's slight body heaved the heavy ax over her head, then drove it into the frozen creek. Each effort seemed to take every ounce of her strength, and she paused to take a breath after each blow. He stopped himself about ten feet away, gripping the bottom edge of his buckskin so his hands didn't jerk the ax away from her. This was not right.

After an eternity, she broke through to water. Three more whacks and she had a decent sized hole. She allowed the metal end of the ax to fall to the ground, holding onto the handle like a cane. She leaned against it, her shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

He couldn't stand it anymore. In two long strides, he reached her, then pulled her elbow so she turned to face him. Gideon gripped both of her arms, the ax handle falling to the ground. "Are you all right?"

He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, her chest still heaving under the thickness of his buckskin. His buckskin. A possessive heat flared through him, and his right hand crept up to stroke the leather where it rested on her shoulder.

His gaze found hers again and rested there. "Thank you, Leah. For everything. You've been amazing." If only he had words to tell her how amazing.

Her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak, but no sound came out. His attention was drawn to that mouth, though, her full lips flushed red from the cold. He couldn't pull his gaze away, and before he could stop himself, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Oh, she tasted good. Her lips warmed his own with their sureness. She didn't hesitate, didn't pull back. He forced himself to keep the kiss gentle, but couldn't wholly stop the desire she raised in him. He didn't remember it being like this with Jane. He had no sense of duty with Leah, just this feeling of elation that soared through him. He wanted to be all she desired, wanted to be worthy of her. So much it scared him.

The old familiar fear rose in his chest, but he forced it down, deepening the kiss. He would fight this, he had to. Images flashed through his mind. Abel's blood on the snow… Four crosses in the little graveyard…

He tore his mouth away from Leah's and dropped his forehead to rest on hers, squeezing his eyes against the images. He struggled to catch his breath. A gentle hand touched his cheek, but he couldn't lift his lids, couldn't meet her gaze.

"Gideon?" Her voice was soft, uncertain.

"I'm sorry…" It was all he could say. He pressed his eyes tighter, hating the pain he knew he was causing. "I can't do this, Leah. I'm sorry…"

Her head pulled away, and he let his fall, feeling so much the failure. Then something touched his chin—warm and soft and a bit moist. His eyes jerked open and his gaze met Leah's shimmering green pools.

"It's going to be all right."

The earnestness in her expression stopped his breath. Oh how he wanted to believe her. He wanted to trust her. But the fear twisting his gut held him back.