Wilderness Courtship (16 page)

It wasn’t until Charity was alone that she allowed herself to plop onto a rickety chair. Every bone in her body ached and she feared she was becoming very ill. That wouldn’t do. Not at all. She must hold herself together and feign good health, at least until they reached Naomi’s parents. After that she could let down her guard and allow her weakness to show.

Timidly, his cheeks streaked with tears, Jacob approached her. His voice was barely audible as he said, “Mama?”

Charity opened her arms and lifted him onto her lap. What could she say? How could she explain to the child that his mother was gone again and that it was her fault?

As her own tears began to fall, Charity held him close and laid her cheek on the top of his head. She was so weary, so spent she could barely think, let alone speak coherently.

Finally, she managed to say, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

The little boy’s response was both touching and heartbreaking. He wiggled and twisted till he could wrap his arms around her neck, kissed her damp cheek and said, “It’s okay, Mama. Please don’t cry.”

Thorne returned after spending only a few minutes outside. “It’s me. Don’t shoot,” he called before easing open the door.

Charity didn’t rise to welcome him back. She wanted to run straight into his arms, regardless of the impropriety of such an action, but she simply lacked the strength to do so.

Jacob, however, had plenty of energy to spare. He shouted, “Uncle Thorne!” and raced toward him.

Catching the child in midstride, Thorne lifted him and swung him in an arc, sharing his joy as he glanced over at Charity. “I’m glad one of you is happy to see me.”

“I’m happy, too,” she said. “Honest I am.” Getting to her feet, she swayed as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her.

Thorne hurried to her side and took her arm to steady her while he lowered Jacob to the floor. He peered at her. “You’ve been crying.”

“I guess I’m not as strong as I thought I was.”

“You’re amazing. Most women I know would have fainted dead away at the first sign of Indian attack.”

She blinked, trying to clear her head, and failed. The room was spinning. Colored lights like the bits of sparkling glass in a kaleidoscope danced at the periphery of her vision. Blackness encroached.

She heard the rumble of Thorne’s voice. It sounded so dim and far away she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

One moment of peace. That was all she needed. She’d just close her eyes for a second and she’d be fine. She had to be. Failing to hold up her end of the bargain she’d made to care for the dear little boy and his mother was totally unacceptable.

Moisture flooded her already misty vision and tears once again slid down her cheeks as she recalled Jacob’s words. He had called her
Mama.

The importance of that choice was not lost on her heart or mind and that was all she could think of as she slipped further and further into the darkness that was waiting to give her rest.

Thorne caught her as she swooned and carried her to where he had placed his coat for the boy. Laying her gently atop the garment, he knelt at her side and began to pat her hands and rub her wrists.

At his side, Jacob was sniffling. “Is she sick?”

Thorne was about to assure him that Charity was merely overtired when it occurred to him that the boy might be right. He hadn’t felt her forehead since the night before and it was possible she might have chosen to hide her infirmity rather than cause more worry.

His hand was shaking as he gently laid it on her forehead. She was burning up! His anger flared. The little fool hadn’t given any indication that she was ailing or he would never have asked so much of her. Did she expect him to notice her feverishness on his own? Or was she purposely hiding those telltale symptoms to keep from causing a delay in their journey?

Any and all of those possibilities fit Charity’s stubborn personality, he concluded. The question now was what should he do? If he tried to carry her the rest of the way to Olympia, or at least as far as the next farmstead, they would most likely be attacked en route. If that happened while they were out in the open, there was no way he could adequately defend both her and the boy, let alone get her to a place where she could be nursed back to health.

He looked around the cabin, assessing his options. They were meager to say the least. If they stayed there, he would have to find fresh water and food, which meant leaving Jacob and Charity unguarded for however long that quest took.

If he chose to stay inside and continue to protect them, they might all fail to survive without adequate provisions, especially water. It was a terrible choice to have to make.

Finally, in desperation, he took his questions to God. As he knelt beside the unconscious woman and bereft little boy, he closed his eyes and began to mutter a prayer. His plea was mostly centered on Charity, on the fact that he truly cared for her, although he did include the rest of his close family, including Naomi and Aaron.

Unashamed, he released the strong self-control on which he prided himself and bared his soul to his Heavenly Father.

As a man, he knew was out of options and saw no way to save his beloved.

As a Christian, he knew upon Whom he must rely if any of them were to survive.

Chapter Sixteen

T
he storm that had been heralded by the thunder began in earnest before another hour had passed. Heavy rain pounded against the roof of the cabin and trickled in through a myriad of chinks between the logs.

Desperate for water of any kind, Thorne placed the empty cooking pots where they would collect rain while he tried to keep their guns and clothing dry.

He’d built a fire in the stove using some of the furniture for fuel and was applying damp compresses to Charity’s fevered brow. She lay wrapped in his overcoat, as well as her own, while he tried to sweat the fever out of her. So far, his method seemed to be working because she had passed through a slight delirium and was beginning to rest easier.

Thorne knew he should stop worrying but he could barely manage to breathe, let alone relax. The only time he had left her side was to stoke the fire or collect more cool rainwater with which to bathe her face and hands.

Jacob, bless his heart, had tried to help by moving some of the smaller pans beneath newly discovered leaks and Thorne had encouraged his efforts. As long as the boy was kept busy he was less likely to notice undue hunger or thirst.

It wasn’t until Thorne noticed him taking secretive sips of the collected water that he realized he’d had an ulterior motive. That made him smile in spite of everything. Jacob was a chip off the old block, all right, a conniver with a penchant for doing as he pleased, even at such a young age.

Thorne no longer doubted that he was the child’s true father. There were simply too many indications of it. Not only did Jacob look enough like him at that age to have been his twin, he was displaying many of the same mannerisms and attitudes. Even his lopsided smile was pure Blackwell, leaving Thorne torn between pride and a sense of wretched culpability.

“If only Aaron were here,” he said softly. “I have so much debt to repay.”

He glanced at the leaky roof and thought of other debts, mainly the thanks he owed to God for providing needed water. It sounded as if the rain was slacking off, but they had plenty saved to get them through the night and hopefully bring Charity’s fever down. Beyond that, he dared not plan. Without horses and the guarantee of a safe passage, he’d be a fool to try to complete their journey, no matter how close they were to Olympia or Nisqually Flats.

There was also the matter of what may have happened to Naomi. If the Indians had stolen her, he had to attempt a rescue or at least try to buy her back from them before she was bartered to some other tribe. The Indians’ practice of slavery among their brethren had surprised him the first time he’d heard about it but it was such a big part of their warrior culture he knew he’d have to play by their rules. Assuming they did have Naomi, that is. If she had simply wandered off and had had to weather the storm alone and lost, that might be even worse.

Jacob had laid himself down beside Charity when he tired and had quickly dropped off to sleep. Thorne had kept the fire going as he stood watch. Hour by hour, his fatigue grew. His eyelids felt leaden, his alertness nearly nil. He fought sleep rather then allow himself much-needed rest. He must not doze, he insisted. If he wasn’t vigilant, anyone could sneak up on them.

Finally, he decided to hang some small tin cups above the closed door so they would clatter and rouse him if it was opened. Then he sat down on the dirt floor with his back to the wall and the rifles at hand.

In minutes after he’d rigged the alarm and settled his weary body comfortably, he nodded off.

Charity awoke to sunlight streaming through the cracks in the walls and ceiling. She was still a bit achy but her headache was gone and she could tell the fever had also passed.

“Praise God,” she whispered as she left the still-sleeping child and got slowly, tenuously to her feet to check her balance. Thankfully, she seemed to be a bit weak but otherwise as well as could be expected. She didn’t remember everything that had occurred the previous day but she did recall enough bits and pieces of it to realize that Thorne had nursed her through the crisis.

And sweet little Jacob had helped, she added. How hard and how sad it was going to be to bid that child farewell.

Looking around the room she saw Thorne dozing in a seated position on the hard-packed floor. His coat was still on the ground where he had laid it for her and the boy and she knew he must be chilly, yet he was obviously sound asleep in spite of any discomfort.

Her mouth was dry, her throat parched. She found a pail of clean water with a dipper near the stove and slaked her thirst. Never had tepid water tasted so wonderful. The only thing better would be a bath. That was out of the question under these circumstances, of course, but she could clearly imagine its refreshing qualities.

She gently touched her wounded forehead. The place where the bullet had broken the skin was still tender but the surrounding skin felt cool, probably thanks in part to the pine bark Leschi had shown her how to steep and apply, as well as drink. That medicine was gone now, as was everything she owned, including her comb and brush, which meant that there wasn’t a thing she could do to make herself more presentable.

If she hadn’t been so glad to be alive, she might have fussed more. As it was, she knew there were far more important concerns to address, Naomi among them.

Thorne looked so peaceful, so dear, she yearned to let him sleep. Perhaps, if she eased open the door, she could make a silent trip to the facility out back and return without disturbing him. Since there didn’t seem to be any other choice, she felt justified in doing so.

Charity didn’t notice the tin cups balanced above the door until they clattered together.

Thorne was instantly awake. He jumped up, bracing for attack. When he saw who was standing at the door, he heaved a noisy sigh. “Oh, thank the Lord. How are you this morning?”

“Much better.” She knew her smile was sheepish but she didn’t care. She was so glad to hear his voice and look into his eyes she wouldn’t have cared if he’d been yelling at her. “I was pretty sick, wasn’t I?”

He nodded, his expression grave. “Yes.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“I’m just glad my efforts were successful.” Raking his hair back with his fingers he glanced at the floor where the boy slept. “Jacob’s okay, too?”

“He seems fine. I’m sure my feverishness was due to the injury, not illness. I’ve never been shot before.”

“And hopefully never will be again,” Thorne said. “We should take whatever we think we’ll need for the rest of our journey and get started as soon as possible, if you think you’re up to it.”

“I seem to be all right. I’m a little weak but not terribly dizzy the way I was.” Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she withdrew a handful of crumbs. “I was going to offer you and Jacob some hardtack but I seem to have crushed it.”

“You’re the one who should eat it. You need to build up your strength.”

Charity began to grin at him. “Are you being solicitous or is that your way of politely saying you don’t want to share my crumbs?”

Laughing, he mirrored her broad smile. “I’m glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t suffered. Don’t throw that mess away till we get other food somewhere. We may end up eating it as a last resort.”

Although she made a face she stuck her hand back into her pocket just the same. “All right. If you insist. I suppose it might not be too hard to take if we made it into a gruel. Where did you get all this fresh water?”

“The Lord sent it,” Thorne said. “Right through the roof.”

“I must have missed that.”

“Undoubtedly. You were out of your head for hours.”

Seeing affection and lingering concern in his eyes she wondered if she had babbled anything revealing during her delirium. She certainly hoped not. It was embarrassing enough to know that he—and Jacob, of course—had cared for her while she lay senseless.

If she had not trusted Thorne implicitly, she might have worried that he had taken advantage of her helplessness the way Ramsey Tucker once had. But that was not even a mild concern. She
knew
Thorne would never hurt her, never abuse her in any way.

That startling realization was so firm, so clear, her jaw dropped. She stared at him. The fear of being touched, at least by the man who was looking back at her so lovingly, was totally gone. What a wonderment!

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, starting to scowl.

“Oh, mercy yes.” Charity beamed. “I’m fine. Never better.”

“Good.” His eyes narrowed further. “I think.”

“In time I will share my private thoughts with you but for now I agree that we’d best get a move on.” She looked away and blushed slightly. “If you will kindly watch for hostile Indians, I would like to use the facility.”

“Of course.” Thorne picked up one of the rifles, opened the door a crack to check the yard, then threw it open as he said, “All clear. Follow me and stay close. I don’t want you going into that outhouse until I make sure it’s good and empty.”

Charity knew better than to argue. She would have preferred to take care of necessities without causing such a fuss but she knew Thorne was right to be cautious, especially in light of the Indian attack the day before.

Without hesitation she followed him into the sunlit glade. Wildflowers, nourished by the rain, were blooming in clusters of blue and yellow at her feet while birds soared in the cloudless sky or busily built nests in the nearby trees. It seemed impossible that there could be danger lurking in such a beautiful place but she knew it was not only possible, it was probable.

She had no sooner left the cramped facility and rejoined Thorne in the yard than she saw an Indian step boldly into the clearing. Her breath caught. Her heart raced.

The instant the man raised his hand in greeting she recognized Leschi. Behind him, one of his men was leading the runaway horses. Looking slightly soggy and every bit as confused as ever, Naomi was once again seated atop the black-and-white mare.

Charity was confused, too. She’d trusted the Nisquallies, as had Thorne. Was it possible that they had been the ones who had fired on the cabin?

No,
she countered. If they had been the attackers, Leschi and his men would be long gone, not smiling and returning their horses and property.

Tears of gratitude filled her eyes and prayers of thankfulness filled her heart.

She stood back as Thorne cautiously approached the Indian. She could hear the men talking but couldn’t make out every word. When Thorne lowered his rifle and offered to shake Leschi’s hand, her fears were allayed.

God had more than answered her prayers for their deliverance, she mused, elated. He had not only given them water when they were in dire need, He had provided native guides again to lead them the rest of the way through the wilderness. Their troubles were over.

Olympia wasn’t a surprise to Thorne because he had sailed close to that portion of the territories often while navigating Puget Sound. Charity, on the other hand, was clearly impressed. He had to smile at her enthusiasm.

“Look! Real hotels, just like in San Francisco,” she said, beaming. “And see that sign? It even has a newspaper, the
Columbian.
We must try to get one and see what’s been happening while we were traveling.”

Thorne laughed. “I doubt the news will be as fresh as we were privy to in San Francisco. It would have either come by the same route we did or been sent overland, probably from New York. Either way, it’s a long trip, even with the new railroad lines that run partway.”

“I suppose you’re right. How many people do you think live here?”

“One or two hundred, I imagine. Judging by the piles of spars, shingles and squared timbers stacked down by the docks, the lumber mills are going strong. There are undoubtedly a lot of folks living outside the city, too.”

“Can we stay the night at one of the hotels?” Charity asked. “Our little man is badly in need of a bath. And so am I, I fear.”

“You could have gone for a dip in any of the creeks we passed along the trail,” Thorne teased.

“Brrr. You may be that hardy but the rest of us are not, I assure you. Besides, the sooner we reach Naomi’s parents the happier I will be.”

“Amen to that,” Thorne said seriously. “Leschi is going across to the west side of the bay to stay with relatives tonight. He said he’d call for us at the Sylvester Hotel at dawn. That’s the big log building at the corner of Main and Second.” He pointed. “Right over there.”

Leading the way, Thorne rode ahead, trusting Charity to herd Naomi in the right direction. He knew she’d been terribly distressed to have lost track of his sister-in-law, because ever since they’d gotten Naomi back, Charity had hardly taken her eyes off her.

“I’ll see about rooms and stabling for the horses,” Thorne said. He took special pains to smile as he added, “Can you handle Jacob and Naomi?”

“Jacob, yes,” Charity said. “As for Naomi, I will give it my best.”

“As you always have, even when you were so ill you could hardly stand. I want you to know I don’t blame you for her foibles. She is what she is. All any of us can do is our best.”

Tarrying, Thorne decided to help Charity down after he had dismounted. He held up his arms, took Jacob from her and stood him on a low stump that protruded from the edge of the street in front of the hotel. Then he returned for Charity.

“I can manage,” she protested.

“I know you can. However, there is no way you can preserve your modesty if you err in the middle of this bustling settlement so you may as well give in and accept my assistance.”

It was all he could do to keep from laughing at her expression of consternation. She knew he was right but she was still acting stubborn.

“Of course, if you want to try getting down by yourself, I can always stand back and watch,” he added.

“I would rather you be close enough to cover my inelegance if I do show a bit of what’s left of my poor petticoats,” she replied, blushing. “I trust you will be enough of a gentleman to avoid staring.”

“I shall be the soul of discretion,” he vowed, chuckling as she leaned toward him and placed her hands on his shoulders.