She could appreciate Isaac’s caution from the night before, especially if it helped them sneak up on the kidnappers. But the idea of a fire to stop her shivering and dry out the twenty pounds of water weighing her skirts sounded too wonderful. Isaac had no idea how much easier the day had been for him in his waterproof buckskins.
There were several times during the worst of the deluge that she’d almost asked if he had an extra pair of the leathers. If it rained again tomorrow, she very well might.
What a sight she’d be then. Mama would swoon with one glance.
But her mother wasn’t around to chide her. She would never be. Not since the train accident that took both her parents and her sister—her entire family—in the space of a single hour. That had been the end of the happy life she’d first known. The beginning of a new life of hard work and struggle.
And it seemed like the losses just kept coming. But she couldn’t let herself get bogged down in those miring thoughts.
She had work to do.
When she’d finally gathered enough wood to start a decent blaze, she traipsed back to camp, her skirt dragging in the mud. It didn’t take long to find the flint, steel, and tinder Isaac kept in his pack—she’d become quite familiar with the contents of that case. Maybe tonight she’d ask him about the selection of books her fingers kept rubbing against. Did he carry those specific titles for a reason, or did he have an entire library he rotated through?
Her mind had spent more time than it should imagining details about this man’s life. But at least those wonderings kept her thoughts from drifting to Samuel and Laura, a harrowing topic she couldn’t seem to stay away from for long. But she had to distract herself. If she didn’t, if she allowed her imagination to walk those paths, she’d go mad.
“The horses are liking all the grass in that valley.” Isaac’s strong voice made her jump as he stepped from the darkness and dropped to his haunches beside her where she was laying out the tinder. “I can start this fire if you have something else that needs doing.”
“I have it.” There was a great deal that needed doing, but she’d begun this task and she’d see it through to completion. “If you’d like, you can gather a load of wood to dry beside the fire’s heat. I think I’ve found enough to get a good blaze started.”
Without a word, he rose and disappeared into the darkness again.
He was a quiet man, Isaac Bowen, but that was something she appreciated about him. He honed in on his work and noticed details most people would miss. She’d seen all this when they’d first met on that other journey, but spending so much time with him now—just the two of them—gave her a much closer look at his character. She could only be thankful he was the one God had laid in her frantic path as she first sought her son.
By the time Isaac returned, she had a small flame devouring the kindling, with a few bigger logs encircling it, ready to catch fire. Now for something warm to eat. Stew would take a while, but they both desperately needed the hot broth to thaw their insides. Scooping up the pot, she marched down to the creek.
While Isaac tended the fire, she put together the stew, then set to work laying out their wet things. The leather pack had done a remarkable job keeping their bedding dry, but there were still a number of items that had been saturated by the continuous downpour. Unfortunately, the clothes she wore would have to dry on her person, for she had nothing to change into.
She was just hanging out the last few items when Isaac’s voice rose over the crackling fire. “Joanna, come and sit. Your stew’s ready and you need to rest.”
He’d used her given name several times that day, but the sound of it in his warm voice gave her pause every time.
“Just let me finish hanging these.” She should probably gather another load of firewood before she sat, too. As she worked, her mind wandered to the new worry that had taken up residence in her exhausted mind. “Do you think the men Mr. Lanton sent will find us tonight?”
“Maybe.” His tone didn’t sound any too confident.
She shot a glance over her shoulder to check the expression on his face. Weary lines were cast in shadows as he stared into the firelight. Surely the men were coming. They wouldn’t leave her and Isaac to take down the kidnappers alone, would they?
When she turned to head back down the mountain for another load of firewood, Isaac snagged her skirts. “Sit, woman. You’re running yourself ragged for no reason.” She might have been affronted by the way he addressed her were it not for the gentle teasing in his tone.
She paused and turned to him. “I’m going to bring one more load of wood so it can be drying.”
He rose to his feet, standing at least a head above her, and close enough that her chest ceased drawing breath. His hand settled around her elbow, and she wished she could see more than the glimmer of firelight reflecting in his eyes.
“Joanna, sit and eat. Let yourself rest.” The low gravel in his voice slipped around her shoulders like a warm blanket. “I’ve brought in enough wood to last half the night, and I’ll gather more before we turn in. Wearing yourself out isn’t going to bring us to your son any quicker. If you get sick, it’ll only make you more miserable. Slow us down, even.”
She eased out a long breath, forcing out as much of her pent-up angst as she could muster. He was right. She made herself meet his gaze. “I have a bad habit of keeping myself needlessly busy when I’m worried.”
He chuckled, a sound that eased her nerves even more. “I’m not sure that’s a bad habit all the time, but we’d best keep a check on it tonight.” With a gentle pressure, he turned her toward the fire. “Let me scoop you out a cup of stew. You’ll feel better with something warm inside you.”
She had to sit on her hands to keep from helping as he spooned out a generous portion. She couldn’t remember the last time someone else had served her. Robert had been gone these seven months. And even when he still lived, she’d been the caretaker in the family.
Although it was hard for her to accept, the fact that Isaac cared enough to help warmed her insides as much as the stew.
FIVE
The night hung thick and muggy around Laura, laden with the remnants of rain as she listened once again for the sounds of breathing from the men. It was a wonder they couldn’t hear her heart ramming against her chest. Tonight was her chance to get free. To escape with Samuel before something awful happened.
The scoundrels had tied her and Samuel both to a tree—as they’d been doing every night—but she’d been working for hours with the somewhat-sharp edge of a rock to cut the leather strap binding her. Though her arms ached and no doubt her wrists bled, only a few fibers still held. She scraped the leather across the rock once more. Then again.
With a jerk, her hands broke loose.
She wiped her bloody wrists against her skirt. The pain would be worth it if only she could finally get Samuel and herself free. Hopefully the thick cloud cover would help with her escape plans. She had no idea how they’d get back to Settler’s Fort, but hiding would be the first order of business. Somewhere so discreet not even these seasoned mountain men could find them.
Then each night, she and Samuel could cover as much distance back to town as they could manage in the dark. She could probably form some sort of map in her mind from watching where the sun set and rose, along with the patterns of the stars. And Joanna must have summoned help from town to look for them. It might take a day or two—or four—to find the search party, but she would make it back to town with this boy. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Or to her own honor.