Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (6 page)

“What
…
?” His grip tightened around her as she violently shook in his arms. When she finally stopped trembling, he held her at arm’s length, then muttered a curse under his breath. “What happened?” he growled.

Sophia closed her eyes and drew in as much air as her lungs would hold, then slowly released it, along with the majority of her fear. For now, she was safe. A relieved smile slowly spread, but when she opened her eyes, her relief changed to chagrin at the sight of Bryan’s glower. “I’m so sorry. I was stupid. I was concerned about something else and completely forgot Martin’s warning.”

She fell into step beside him as he turned and walked her back to the wagon. Some of her fear returned when she thought about the major. “Bryan, he tried to grab me.” She shook her head. “What am I to do?”

He helped her up into the wagon, where she promptly rested the back of her hand against Martin’s bronzed cheek. She wished she knew how to make him better.

Clay’s voice whispered behind her, husky from sleep. “You need rest too, Sophia. Bryan has a job to do.”

The young soldier cleared his throat. “Um, I was comin’ to tell you ’bout the regular driver. The major thought one of ’em looked a little dark and dismissed the lot. I’m the driver now.”

Clay grunted. “Well, there you go. Bryan can drive the wagon. Now sleep, Sophia.”

The sound of her name pouring off his tongue was musical. Her heart did a funny little dance in her chest. At least during the day there would be no strange whispers, and she would be able to sleep a lot better. Her last thought as the wagon’s motion lulled her to sleep was how difficult it was going to be when she had to tell this man good-bye.

Chapter Eight

“This is a nice way to wake up.”

Sophia’s eyes popped open. She stared into Clay’s shadowy dark-chocolate ones. Mesmerized, she let her gaze follow his lips as they rose into a knowing grin. She scrambled into a sitting position, but promptly lost her balance and fell onto the object of her discomfort. Clay.

Could this get any worse?
Horrified, nerves jumbled, she couldn’t think straight. Ignoring Clay’s low chuckle, she pushed off his chest. His hard, muscled chest. “Just stop it,” she muttered to herself.

“I haven’t done anything.”

Her gaze flew up, meeting his. He grinned wider.

“Ohhh!” She glared at him, then scooted to the end of the wagon.

“It’s a woman thing, Clay.” Martin chuckled from the other side of the small space. “My Klara did the same thing. She talked to herself whenever she got agitated or embarrassed.”

“You are not helping, Martin.” She jerked her skirt from around her foot, then pushed herself out of the motionless wagon. She needed to put some distance between herself and Mr. Clay Jefferson.

After helping to gather the children, she decided to walk the trail for a while and some of the kids could take her place in the wagon. She had just set the last child between Clay’s feet when a movement beside him caught her attention. She looked over and saw Martin crawling toward the end of the wagon. With one hand on each hip, she stood in his way. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

His voice sounded tired and drained. “I do not need to be lying here while the children walk. According to Bryan, the large river ahead is icy and dangerous. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen.”

Sophia kissed his hot cheek. “You are not going anywhere, Grandfather. Your fever has gotten worse. To get better, you need rest.” She gently pushed him back to his original spot. “So rest.”

“But…”

She shook her head, resting one hand on his lower leg. “No. You will remain here.” Her grip tightened. “I cannot lose you too,” she whispered. For a moment, Martin didn’t move. Then without a word, he crossed his legs and nodded.

She smiled gratefully and held onto the wagon as the driver clicked to the horses, beginning another day’s journey.

Chapter Nine

The Mississippi. She couldn’t blink and knew she probably looked like an owl as she stared at the monstrous, ice-filled river. The longer her gaze continued to sweep the water-filled horizon, the faster her heart stuttered as the ball of fear grew in her chest. “We can’t cross that,” she whispered and shivered when the frigid wind blowing over the immense river hit her already raw skin. “That’s not a river, it’s an ocean.”

Clay’s deep voice startled her and pulled her gaze to his lean form, which now stood next to her. “They call this the Mighty Mississippi, and you’re right. These waters are hard to cross in good weather. Frozen? It’s deadly.”

She frowned up at him. “You shouldn’t be up, Clay. Your body hasn’t fully healed. Getting yourself tired will not help anyone.”

His lips drew together in a straight line. His jaws clenched and unclenched, making his sharp features even harsher. To her, he looked fierce—a warrior ready for battle. She bit back a chuckle.
Well, at least what I think a warrior should look like.
Again, the river drew her. “How will we cross?”

Clay pulled his blanket tighter when a strong wind blew into them. “Last night, Bryan told us a soldier had been dispatched with orders to commandeer no less than three large paddleboats. With luck, they should already be here. If not, we’ll be camping until they do.”

He turned and faced her, letting out a frustrated sigh as her body convulsed. “If you shake any harder, you’re going to break something.” He wrapped his hand around her arm and winced.

“What?”

He frowned. “It’s as if I’m holding a small stick and not your arm. “While we’re stopped, crawl up into the wagon and get warm.”

She threw him a questioning glance, and he chuckled. “Well, at least you will be out of this wind.”

She stood her ground, which was difficult to do against the freezing barrage of gusting air. “I’m not getting in the wagon unless you do too. You’ve been ill. I haven’t.”

“Yet,” he bit out, “I’ve watched you take care of everyone else, including me, leaving no time for yourself.” His tone deepened with a husky rasp the longer he talked. “You are like the coyote, adaptable and protective, yet your own feelings remain a secret.” His hair brushed the tops of his shoulders as he shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an Indian maid.”

She frowned, not knowing if he was joking or not. “Why?” His face changed completely when his lips rose into a full smile. She sucked in a quick breath. He was so handsome.

“You’re bossy.” His chuckle sent tingles down her neck and arms. Where his hand gripped her, the tingles disappeared into the escalating temperature of her skin.

She pulled her arm from his grasp and scrambled up into the wagon bed. The only spot left open in the crowded wagon was where Clay had slept. She had curled up and closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow down, when something bumped her leg. A large something. Her eyes flew open and her gaze landed on Clay, who had curled up next to her in a very awkward and clearly uncomfortable position. Staring at him didn’t help her frantically thumping heart, so after a quick inhalation of frigid air, she laid her hand on his halfway-blanketed shoulder.

Clay’s head jerked sideways, his brown eyes wide and surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“Clay, you can’t sleep like that.”

One black eyebrow rose. “What would you suggest, my dear?”

His voice had her nerves dancing merrily, but when she heard the oddly familiar endearment, a flame of anger burst in her head, making her feel lightheaded and dizzy. She focused on his face. “Never
ever
call me dear—in any fashion. Do you understand?”

He held still, no emotion showing on his face or in his eyes. “Why do you command this?”

She took a calming breath before trying to explain. “Let’s just say another person has used it too much for my comfort.” From the hard glint flashing through his eyes, she knew he understood.

“Sophia.”

The sound of her name flowing off his tongue melted her still-simmering anger. The swelling of her heart was almost painful. How this man could shatter her world. Her eyelids closed as she stifled a yawn. “As I’ve already told you, you’re still healing. Lying curled up and twisted like you were will make you worse.”

“Why?”

She met his amused stare.
Insolent
man
. She pushed her chin out and raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know,” she bit out. “Stop asking questions and go to sleep.”

His stomach-plunging smile never faltered as he slowly scooted toward her. “Move down.” She scooted a couple of inches, then stopped. “Closer.” His eyes dared her to obey.

Weighing her choices, she quickly realized there were none. She maneuvered her cold limbs toward his prone form. When his hand snaked around her waist and pulled her the final few inches, she found herself wrapped in his warm embrace. He was right, she admitted silently. This was better than standing out in that arctic wind.

The sounds of ice breaking in the river and the occasional child’s snuffle proved a powerful sleeping draught, even allowing her to forget about the hard body pressed against her. Clay’s deep, rhythmic breathing made her feel safe and lulled her into a light sleep. As her mind shut down, several thoughts slipped through the murky haze. She liked this feeling of freedom, as if her world had righted itself again. For the first time in months, the too-tight pull of her neck and shoulders from constant worry faded. She would let herself enjoy this moment, but the practical side of her mind interjected. The last thing she needed was for him to find out just how much she cared. A quiet whisper tickled her ear as the outside world faded.

“Thank you,
aiukli
.” The strange word flowed like a short melody.

She stared up into the starlit night and listened to the soft puffs of air coming from the sleeping man next to her and dared to hope. Was it possible he might care for her too?

Chapter Ten

Her eyes cracked open to the early evening’s graying light. She was so ready for spring. Listening to the familiar sounds of life on the other side of their wagon wall gave her the chance to think. So many things had happened to her. That fateful night was like another lifetime. With a start, she realized that’s exactly what it was. She no longer had a home or family, and to her sheltered mind, the future looked bleak.

Clay moved behind her, pushing his body against hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach flip-flopped, and a burning excitement flooded through her warm body. As she tamped down the unfamiliar sensations, she realized how comfortable she was with him. The only other males she trusted were Martin and Bryan.

Warmth encased her heart as she thought about the elderly man. From the beginning, he’d been so good to her. She truly wished she could be his granddaughter. Her thoughts turned to Clay. Did he ever think about her? His teasing seemed more brotherly than anything else. She sighed, irritated with herself as her mind realized what her heart already had. She was in love with him.

“That sounded sad. Is something wrong?”

Well, shoot
, she thought.
Now what am I going to say?
She suppressed a hard shiver when a frigid burst of wind shot through the rickety wooden walls of the wagon. “Nothing’s wrong. Just relaxing.” The words tumbled over each other, and she hoped he would accept her answer and not press the issue. She sighed in relief when his mind turned to something else.

“Has Martin said anything to you about crossing the river?”

She wondered at the slight hesitation in his voice. “No, he hasn’t. Well, other than we need to pay close attention to the ice and the children.” Unthinking, she rolled onto her back and found herself looking up into his dark eyes. Bottomless pools of ink. Mentally kicking herself, she forced the next question between her frozen lips. “Why does the ice worry everyone?”

His eyes lowered to her mouth and she forgot to breathe. When he answered, her lungs remembered to do their job and she gulped in air. “With the warmer weather, the ice is breaking apart. As the ship pushes through the water, the larger chunks ram the sides, making it very dangerous. If a large enough or sharp enough piece hits, the ship’s wooden hull will have a nice new hole in it.”

She bunched her eyebrows. “That won’t be good,” she whispered.

An amused smirk covered his face. “No,” he agreed with a chuckle. “That would not be good. Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll cross safely.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. He sat up and scooted out of the wagon, seemingly unaware of what he’d just done.

She didn’t move, staring into the heavy, gray clouds blanketing the overhead sky. Torrents of rain or heavy snow could have dropped on her and she wouldn’t have cared. He’d kissed her. She ran quickly cooling fingers across her lips, where the memory of his soft kiss lingered. Deep voices slipped into her bemused mind and rapidly drew her attention as their conversation became clear.

“…the townspeople complained, and we were moved here. Martin,
here
isn’t a good place to be. Moccasin Springs is hard enough to cross in calm weather, but now? Look around you. The Cherokee are in no shape to battle anything. Those who aren’t sick soon will be. The trip to the new territory is barely half over, and thousands are dead already.” Even though she was unable to see his face, Sophia could hear the depth of Clay’s concern resonating in each word.