As she lay on her own bed pallet, she gazed up into the cloudy sky. This seemed so strange, lying only a short distance from a man she barely knew. When she’d risen that morning, her primary concerns were how quickly she could escape the drudgery of the boiling washpot.
Now, she’d give anything to wake tomorrow with only those same worries. With her son tucked in close beside her in their little bed. His mouth usually hung open as he dreamed, often accompanied by a circle of moisture on the pillow, giving evidence of how deeply he slept.
Bring my boy back, Lord. You know I couldn’t bear it if I lost him, too.
FOUR
Everything hurt.
As Joanna forced herself to rise the next morning, the act of standing took every bit of her willpower. The pain in her neck felt like a knife each time she tried to turn her head, and every part from her waist down protested her ability to walk. She reached for a nearby boulder to steady herself before she attempted the feat.
At least Mr. Bowen had already risen, so her weakness wasn’t being flaunted before him. He was already doing so much to help her; she would not become a burden to him.
Which meant she’d best take care of morning matters, then put together a quick meal that they could eat in a hurry. Maybe he’d even agree to break their fast in the saddle as they continued the journey.
By the time she returned from her morning ministrations and refilling their canteens at the creek, Mr. Bowen was already back at their little camp, refastening his bedroll.
She dropped to her knees beside the food pack. “How are the horses?” That must be where he’d been when she woke.
“Fine. I hiked up a ways to see what path the tracks took over the mountain.”
How early had this man arisen? There was just now enough light to say dawn had officially arrived. Perhaps the tension pulled as tightly through him as it did her own exhausted body. They had to catch up with the kidnappers today. Her son and friend may not last much longer with those blackguards.
She handed Isaac several cherries, then a piece of roasted meat. “I haven’t gone through all the food bundles to see what’s here, but can we eat the rest on the trail?”
He pushed to his feet with a faint groan. “That’s best. I’ll go saddle the horses.”
She made quick work of pulling out food and repacking the bundle, then shuffled down the slope to where he’d tied the horses. The least she could do was saddle her own mount, despite the ache in every part of her body.
Within a few minutes they were on the trail, and her backside threatened to mutiny as her mare settled into the same rocking gait she’d used the day before. How long since Joanna had spent so much time in the saddle? Too long.
Not since she’d been mounted on a mule, riding behind this same man as he and his father led their little group through the snowy mountains to Settler’s Fort over six months before.
Even that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Her son had ridden with Mr. Bowen on that journey. And now, once again, she was trusting Samuel into this man’s care.
Except not exactly. First they had to find those horrid kidnappers, then get Samuel and Laura away from them. She hunched low over the saddle but couldn’t seem to block out the spinning in her mind. What were they doing to her boy? Had they taken him and Laura because the two had witnessed the murder of Sheriff Zander? She could imagine they might have kidnapped Laura for another reason—and was trying hard not to think of what her friend might be enduring.
But a five-year-old boy? It wasn’t as if Joanna had a great deal of money to pay a high ransom. And they were taking the pair away from Settler’s Fort without demanding anything.
“Mr. Bowen?” Her voice broke the silence that had settled between them this first half hour. Maybe she shouldn’t ask, but she had to.
He glanced back at her. “Call me Isaac.”
His unexpected response jolted her, and she let out a breath. “All right.”
He turned back to the trail, guiding his horse in a route that wound around the side of the mountain.
Now she had to reassemble her thoughts so they’d come out in a coherent question. “Isaac?”
He didn’t turn this time. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Why would they want my boy?” Her voice probably broadcast her fear, but she couldn’t seem to control it.
For a long moment he didn’t answer. Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask such a question of him. The answer couldn’t be pleasant.
But if he had any idea, she needed to know. Knowing would be better than this awful twist in her belly that sent her imagination down horrible paths.
At last, he spoke. “I suspect Miss Hannon and your son saw something they shouldn’t have, and the men are trying to cover their tracks.”
His words did nothing to calm the roiling in her middle.
“Do you think they’re hurting him?”
He looked back at her again, and the compassion in his eyes only made her feel worse. “Mrs. Watson.”
The way he spoke her name was like a gentle chiding mixed with a warm hug. And he was right. She’d best not dwell on what she couldn’t control.
But the quicker they moved, the sooner they’d free her son. She leaned forward and nudged her mare faster over the mountain.
A thick layer of clouds covered much of the sky that night as Isaac reined in his mount and packhorse. “We’ll stop here. This footing is too treacherous for the horses to pick their way in the dark.”
Tracking in the thick blackness was no longer a problem, because he was fairly certain where the men were going. This trail was so remote, so hard to travel, there was really only one way through, and he knew it well enough to follow with his eyes closed. He’d traveled the same path to their hideout during those early wayward days, riding through here more times than he could count, chasing the demons he thought would make him happy.
Now, the occasional fresh horse droppings confirmed this was the trail the kidnappers had taken. When he and Mrs. Watson reached the cave mid-morning tomorrow, if he found signs the men had slept there, he’d be fairly certain they were part of the gang as he’d suspected. The one he’d started with his two closest friends over a decade before. That hole in the mountainside was so well hidden that only he, Aaron, and Nate could know about it, aside from a mountain lion or two. Probably also aware of it were those two good-for-nothings whom the brothers had joined on with after Isaac had finally washed his hands of that life. The thought churned hard in his gut.
A heavy sigh drifted from the woman behind him as he dismounted. She’d been quiet much of the day, not voicing a single complaint. The least he could do was acknowledge her unspoken desire.
He turned to her. “I know you’d rather keep moving, but the men who have your boy will have to stop, too. We’ll be ready to ride out at first light.”
She offered a weak smile and a nod, then leaned forward to dismount. Each of her movements was slow and made his body hurt just to watch. This journey couldn’t be easy for her, a woman not accustomed to riding all day. Add in the lack of sleep the night before and fear for her son and friend, and she must feel like all the worries in the world weighed her down.
There wasn’t much he could do to help her, other than take care of as many chores as he could. After untying the pack behind his saddle, he carried it to the flat spot where they would sleep. Mrs. Watson followed him.