Chapter 21

Grant stroked the hair from Faith's brow as he studied her beautiful pale face. God, please don't take her. Don't take her from me.

So much had happened during that fight. The bullet from Flies Ahead's gun had struck the other brave in the belly. He lay on the ground now, a blanket covering his lifeless body and the pool of blood around him. He'd bled out almost before they secured Flies Ahead and turned to help him.

Then a third brave had appeared. White Horse had caught sight of him in just enough time to duck the flying tomahawk. Grant's rifle had convinced the man to give in easily after that, and now both he and Flies Ahead sat tied to trees nearby.

Faith lost consciousness during the struggle too. He still had no idea whether something struck her in the head or if she fainted from the strain. The latter didn't seem likely. Not with the strength Faith possessed.

He glanced over her body to Steps Right, who sat on Faith's other side. She seemed to have weathered the kidnapping as well as could be expected. The lines around her eyes had deepened, probably from exhaustion. She'd assured them she was well, and that nothing more could be done for Faith until she awoke.

Behind his mother, White Horse stood guard, rifle aimed at the two sullen men bound nearby. Steps Right had said she'd only seen the three men, but White Horse looked fierce enough to take on the attack of a hundred more if they swarmed into camp. Grant could well imagine the mixture of relief and anger the man must feel, seeing how his mother had been treated here.

He turned back to Faith. Steps Right said neither of them had been hurt by the braves, other than being knocked unconscious when they were kidnapped.

Was that why a second blow had laid Faith low for so long? It had been at least a half hour since the attack.

Her chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, but her tanned skin had turned so pale. Her face that usually showed such expression lay still.

"Faith." His throat rasped, so he cleared it. "Wake up." The rasp was gone, but he couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "Please."

She'd said she loved him. More than anything, he wanted the chance to tell her the same. To take her in his arms and hold her. To never let her go.

She'd said he made her better. How on earth that could be true, he didn't know. But he was tired of pushing her away. If she wanted to love him, he would give her everything he had. All the time and attention and everything he owned. He would protect her as best he could. No matter what it took.

And he would treasure her. The way she deserved to be treasured.

"He loves you too. More than you can possibly imagine. You don't have to do anything to be worthy of it."

Faith's words threaded through his mind. They couldn't really be true, though. Faith loved him because she was just that wonderful.

But God couldn't love him. Didn't love him. He'd already proven that when He didn't answer Grant's prayers.

He already thinks you're worth everything.

She'd put such emphasis on that last word. As though God would give up everything He had. His power. The entire world He'd created, for Grant.

"Worth His love. Worth His son dying so He could show you exactly how much He loves you. You only have to open yourself enough to receive that love."

A burn crept back into his throat, searing him. He swallowed. If only that were true. If only God did care about him even a tiny portion of what Faith had said.

"You only have to open yourself enough to receive that love."

He lifted his head to look up at the sky above. How do I do that? How do I open myself to you?

He sat there for a long moment. Waiting. Would there be a voice that spoke aloud? A knowing in his mind?

He waited. Listening. There was nothing audible. Nothing that spoke clearly in his mind. But deep inside him, there was ... an easing. Like some of his tension relaxed.

Maybe this was what Faith had meant. He lifted a silent prayer to the heavens. I want to open myself to you. If you're willing to love me, I want it. I'll do what you ask. I'll make myself worthy.

Again, Faith's words slipped in. "You don't have to do anything to be worthy of it." That's what she'd said, but this time he didn't hear her voice in his mind. It was more like a knowing, down in his chest. In his spirit.

He squeezed his eyes closed as emotion welled through him. Is that you, God? Can you really take me the way I am? I want it. I want what you'll give. Your love, if you'll offer it to a man like me.

The emotion overwhelmed his mind, and he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Absorbing it all. Soaking in this ... this peace. There were no words, but it was more than he'd ever felt.

She'd never seen such joy on Grant's face.

As Faith watched him now, with his eyes closed tight and his expression nearly glowing with peace and pleasure, she could only think of one thing that might have placed it there.

And she wouldn't interrupt this moment with the Lord for anything.

Thank you, Father.

After a while, he opened his eyes. Then blinked. She squeezed his hand, the one she'd been holding when she awoke.

He blinked again as he jerked his gaze down to her. His eyes widened, like he was still trying to come back to the present. "Faith?"

She smiled, though her lips were so dry, they cracked with the movement. "Grant."

He pushed into action, leaning over her, a mixture of worry and wonder taking over his expression. He still held her hand, but with his other, he stroked her hair. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

It took too much energy to remember, so she didn't try. Her head pounded, and she was so thirsty. "Water."

"Here." Steps Right's voice came from her other side.

Grant reached to take a tin cup from the older woman, then focused on Faith. "Can you sit up a little?"

She squinted against the pain, and with his hand behind her head to help, she lifted enough to drink. The first sip ached—in the best way possible. Her throat burned as the water seeped through the parched places.

She paused to breathe before taking another. This swallow didn't hurt as much as it soothed. She gulped down a third sip, then a fourth.

The water was clearing her head, so she leaned on her elbow and took the cup from Grant. When she finished the last bit, she handed him the cup and eased back to the ground to take stock of things.

She could remember being tied to a tree....

Steps Right.She turned quickly to find the woman, but the sudden movement sent flashes of light and pain through her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a hand to her face. But she had to know if the older woman was hurt. "Steps Right?" Her voice came out a mumble, but it must have been loud enough.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "I am here. Rest. Eat."

Her belly didn't feel like it could handle food, but Grant's voice rumbled from her other side. "You probably need a good broth, but that will take a while to make. Pemmican will help for now."

Maybe she could manage a little. Especially if it would ease the worry in his voice.

He pressed a piece into her hand, and she put it in her mouth to chew. The taste did seem to ease the unrest in her middle. She opened her eyes and focused on chewing. Once she swallowed, he fed her another. After she'd downed three bites, her head finally shifted from pounding to a quieter ache, and she could think more clearly.

She turned her gaze to Grant and let her own eyes roam his face. Taking in every handsome feature. Every strong line. Every mark she loved. He wore several days' scruff. Enough that some might call it a beard.

He looked wonderful. So much her heart welled so full it ached.

"You had me worried."

She lifted her focus to his eyes, sinking deep in their earnest depths.

It still seemed too wonderful that he was here. The last she'd seen him, he was riding away to find his brother. But something had changed that. She swallowed to clear her throat. "Did you find Will?"

He shook his head. "After I'd ridden about an hour, I discovered your pouch with the necklace in my saddlebag. I knew you would be frantic when you realized you lost it, so I turned around and rode back to the waterfall. Before I got there, White Horse found me and told me you both were missing." His gaze flicked up to Steps Right, then he refocused on her. "I don't think I've ever been so worried in my life."

She reached for Grant's hand, and he wove his fingers between hers. "God brought us through." She smiled at him, something she could do much easier now with a bit of strength returned.

Grant lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers, then held them against his chest. "I know. I ... still can't believe it."

She searched his eyes. "Did you hear what I said? When he had the gun on me?" That part she could remember well. That desperate need to tell Grant the most important things.

His eyes sparked, maybe at the memory of the danger. "You mean when my heart nearly stopped? I can't believe you took such risks. He would have killed you."

Then his gaze turned earnest again. So intense it made her lightheaded. "I heard every word. It nearly undid me." He lifted her fingers to kiss them again, then curled them back against his chest. "I did what you said. I opened myself to God. I didn't think He cared. But He showed me."

Even through her exhaustion, joy welled through her. Tears blurred her vision, and one or two slipped out before she could wipe them away. "Grant." She sniffed, blinking so she could see him clearly.

He leaned forward to brush his thumb across her cheek, maybe clearing away another drop. "And as for that other, I don't think it's fair that you got to tell me you love me first." A touch of sadness tinged his gaze. "But I suppose that's what I needed to kick me forward."

He gathered her other hand so he was holding them both against his chest. She relished the feel of his cotton shirt. The warmth of his body, whole and uninjured. The way he was looking at her as though she mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

"I love you too, Faith Collins. I don't have words for how much." His voice cracked in a way that threatened to bring on the tears again. "I still don't know how I came to be lucky enough to have your love." He paused. "Or God's."

She stroked a thumb across the back of his hand. Just a little nudge of encouragement.

"But I'm thankful for you both. I almost lost you today, and it made me realize how thickheaded I was being." He paused to study her. Maybe he was waiting for her to answer, but the hope inside her was too strong for her to speak.

"I don't want to be separated from you again. I know I need to ask for your hand officially." His brows lowered. "To your sisters. And maybe White Horse too."

She smiled and nodded—just a little, for the movement made her head pound. "Probably all of them."

He dipped his chin. "All of them, then. But until I can, I'm staking my claim here and now."

He shifted so he held her hands in one of his, then leaned forward to cup her head with the other, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I love you, Faith Collins, and I don't plan to let you go ever again."