Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (8 page)

“I don’t think she believed anyone. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Certain Choctaw tribes follow the same rule—if the child’s father is white and the mother dies, they are sent away from the tribe.” He readjusted his cramped position on the deck’s hard wood surface, careful not to waken Sophia. “I don’t remember seeing a white man in your home when father and I visited.”

“He was only there for those two years. Through a friend, I heard he might have joined the army. Several years later, the same friend told us he was seen at the docks but disappeared again. I haven’t heard anything since. It has long puzzled me. This was not the same man who loved my Water Lily. The man I knew would never have left his daughter in someone else’s home. The day he left, he promised me he would find our Rain Blossom and bring her home.”

A great, deep
croak, croak, croak
came from the water, drawing his gaze. Several large, majestic birds glided over the water to the river’s edge, while one stayed near the boat. The beautiful pelican floated, intently watching something just beneath the river’s surface. Suddenly, his head dropped, skimming the surface and then drawing both water and food into the flat orange bill. Where the bottom of the bill met the bird’s snowy white neck, a pouch-like orange membrane had expanded with the scooped water that now drained out again. As soon as all the water was gone, the pouch shrank back to its normal size. The bird flipped its head a couple of times, swallowed the fish, and then started the process over again. After eating his fill, the elegant pelican flapped his long wings and gracefully soared back into the bright blue sky.

Clay glanced down as Sophia moved her head. Hope flared, and his mouth moved into a sly grin as an idea formed.

Martin’s voice broke through his reverie. “What are you grinning at?”

“Life.”

He harrumphed. “That’s almost positive, coming from you.”

“I also thought of a plan to keep our girl here safe.”

For the first time since his wife died, Martin smiled. As Clay quickly told him the plan’s details, the elder man’s smile grew wider.

The voice they’d both been waiting to hear sounded from his lap. “What did I miss? You both look entirely too happy.”

Clay’s heart felt like it had burst, sending white-hot warmth through him. He held back the urge to pull her close and kiss her and instead continued to hold her as he had for the past nine hours.

Martin’s gnarled fingers smoothed her tangled mass of ebony hair, tucking it behind one ear. “You scared me, Granddaughter.” Martin gently wiped her cheek with the back of his large hand. “You also made an old man proud.”

Clay held out several pieces of dried jerky, chuckling as she stuffed most of one thick piece into her mouth. “And Martin didn’t think you’d like it.”

“Zoh guhd.” She rolled her eyes in bliss.

Clay watched a tiny hand pull on her sleeve and force her gaze down to her side. An amazing look of wonder washed over her beautiful face as she gazed at the little boy she’d risked her life to save.

****

Lifting her head, Sophia caught sight of two large, dark-brown eyes staring at her from a scared little face. All the frantic emotions and adrenalin from her frozen swim rushed back. She couldn’t stop herself from pulling the child up into her shaky embrace. “Ohhhh,” she breathed and rested her chin on top of his warm head. “I did it. I actually did it.”

Clay leaned forward and rewrapped the double layer of blankets around them as best he could. “Yes, you did,
aiukli
. However foolish a move it was, you saved the child.”

A shutter came down over his face, and she wondered what had just happened. “I couldn’t let them die.” She pinched her lips together, then sighed. “She was so old. How did she float for so long? The water was freezing.” Her eyes filled, but the crystalline liquid only pooled in the bottom crescents. “Why did she give up?”

Clay threw a worried glance at Martin, and she saw the same worry in his dark eyes as well and wondered why. A silent exchange passed between the two men before Clay’s eyes closed and he nodded once.

“She was old and had lived a full life.” Martin’s eyes glittered, but any sadness was replaced by humor. “I have known this woman for many years. She was as playful as a sprite, and the Cherokee people will honor her sacrifice. Could she do anything less for her grandson?”

Sophia closed her eyes tightly. “Now I feel worse.”

“Because you tried?” he argued. “You risked your own life to save theirs. Reverend Bushyhead is a fine man and a good leader. He will honor the life of his sister for what she did. Her sacrifice was one of love, Sophia. Honor her strength and yours. Because of you both, the little one is alive.”

She took a deep breath, her fingers gently combing through the boy’s tangled hair. Her thoughts tumbled over each other as she tried to calm her shaky nerves. As the minutes ticked by, she realized it wasn’t working and her nerves were now more jumbled than her thoughts. Clay’s thumb rubbing the tender skin under her ear wasn’t helping either, especially since she was still lying in his lap. And enjoying every second.

Her inner destruction was interrupted by the child’s pitiful cry. “Papa?”

Her grip tightened, hugging him close to her warm chest. “It’s okay, sweeting.” Her gaze fell on her doll, lying close to Martin’s crossed legs, and pointed to it. He handed her the doll and she held it in front of the small boy. Her lips curled into a smile when his tiny fingers brushed over the painted face, and Sophia placed her in his chubby little arms. They all smiled when he curled up against her and laid his pink cheeks against the doll’s head for comfort.

“You’re okay. As soon as we get off the boat, we will find your papa.”
I hope.
Keeping her voice soft, her captivating whispers calmed him until his little eyes slid closed and he fell into an agitated sleep.

Chapter Twelve

A warm breeze skipped over Sophia’s skin, and spring blossomed everywhere. In the fading light, she saw the small green buds that had popped up overnight on the trees. A few bare sentinels stood among the color in testament to the hard winter. She hoped they were only late bloomers. All around them, colors blazed with the excitement of new life. Soft yellows and pinks of unknown plants peeked out from among dark oranges and blues as the wild foliage began its spring growth. This land—so close to her new home—was beautiful. After breathing in the frigid winter for so long, the warmth of spring and the fresh air laden with hints of honeysuckle and fir tickled her nose. Even with the small patches of icy snow still splattered across the landscape in every direction, chirping birds created a musical symphony that began to push all memories of the empty wintry silence of the last six months from her mind.

She pulled her empty arms around her waist, missing the little boy’s tiny grip. She hugged her antique doll instead, but it wasn’t the same. He’d only been with her for a couple of days, but his sweetness had wrapped around her heart. Even with the sadness of saying good-bye, the relief and love she’d seen on the father’s face when he saw his son had made everything—good and bad—worthwhile.

Martin edged forward, and she slowed to match his shuffling steps. “Bryan said to make camp here.” He tugged once on her arm, then turned and walked back to the motionless wagon.

Emotionally exhausted, she didn’t want to eat. She simply crawled into the back of the wagon and curled up in the corner. She tried to cover what she could of herself with the blanket’s tattered remains but finally gave up and threw the useless cover down over her legs. She held up the doll and looked into her dirty face, rubbing most of the dust off with her thumb. Sophia sighed and placed the doll back in the crook of her arm, absently whispering to the surrounding emptiness.

“Clay said we should arrive at our new home tomorrow. If the weather behaves. I don’t mind walking in the rain, I just don’t ever want to see another river. I wish I knew what was going to happen. To see the future.” She frowned as thoughts of her past flashed through her mind. “On second thought, maybe not. I don’t want to know if it’s something bad. At least, until then, I can be blissfully ignorant but happy.” She twirled the doll’s hair around a finger. “If I’m honest with myself, I’d admit to being scared of ending up alone. This morning, Martin asked me to live with him. It’s the oddest thing, but I feel as if I’ve known him all my life. He is the perfect grandfather.”

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts go. Her mind drifted like a slow-moving river, lazily winding and twisting around sandy bends and rocky outcroppings. That is, until the current picked up and she found herself plunging over a waterfall and crashing into the rocks below with one single thought.

Clay
.

She turned over on her side and moved the doll from beneath her ribcage, drawing comfort from her only link to home. Arm curled beneath her head, she whispered into the tiny ear, “I like him so very much. My heart aches when I’m not near him and hurts more when I am. The closer we get to the Territory, the angrier he gets—not so much in his words or actions but in his eyes—and he won’t say what’s wrong.” She sniffed in aggravation, and her thoughts darkened. “I’m tired of being so scared of Major Todd.” She pulled the doll in front of her face and pursed her lips at her. “I don’t
think
I want much from life—family, friends, and someone to love me as much as I love him.” She hugged the doll to her again in frustration. “No, it’s
not
too much.”

She listened to the nightly noises of the settling camp, now familiar. Comforting. Her mind turned back to Clay and his handsome face, burned forever into her mind.

****

Clay knew he was hurting Sophia, but he didn’t know how else to push her away. His mind warred with the stupid lump pounding in his chest. He knew he had to leave soon. If not, he would never have the strength to leave her, and his vow would remain undone. Nightmares still plagued him—waking and sleeping—of Sophia jumping into the river. He hadn’t been fast enough to stop her. What if she had died? He absently rubbed his chest, trying to massage away the sharp pain. He’d talk to Martin tonight. Maybe if they put their heads together, he would find his answer.

****

Voices edged into her dreams, shifting from fun-filled days and innocence to more mature, pressing thoughts. She recognized both Martin’s and Clay’s voices, but when a third deep voice began to argue, she woke up completely. Bryan. She hadn’t seen him in more than a week, which had worried her. Major Todd was a harsh taskmaster and never satisfied. Her mouth opened so wide in a yawn she thought her jaws would pop apart, and her whole body shook with the effort.
Will I ever feel rested again?
She tuned in again on their conversation.

“The Major decided this? Even more Cherokee will die if they aren’t given food.” Clay’s clipped, low voice sounded angry and dangerous. Drawing shallow breaths, she found their words cleared and she understood their conversation so much better.

“I know. A few of us stole as much food as we dared from the supply wagons.”

For a few seconds, the only sounds came from the nearby evergreens, as cicadas chirped to the last remnants of the day. As the silence continued, she wondered if their conversation had ended. Then Clay spoke.

“Bryan, we need your help watching over her. The major’s not completely healed yet from falling while disembarking at the river. That whole situation was odd. The rumors now bother me more. I heard two soldiers laughing about Todd bragging nothing will stop him from taking her.”

Sophia scrambled to the ground. If she hadn’t been in such a panic, she would have been embarrassed when she fell to her knees between the two men. Clay’s hand reached out to steady her as he pulled her to his side, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck and gently squeezing. Her skin burned under his touch as fiery tingles raced across her shoulders, unraveling the knots.

She took a calming breath, then blurted, “What has Major Todd said? About me?” She fidgeted with a crease in Clay’s trousers—unmindful of the reaction it caused him—while she waited for someone to respond. When no one did, she pleaded, “Please. Somebody better start talking. I have a right to know.”

She heard the scratching of skin on skin next to her and knew Clay scrubbed his face with his other hand. “You’re right. This is about you, and maybe if you understand what we are trying to do, you will be safer.”

The gentle caressing motion of her hand on his leg stopped, her fingers digging into the crease instead. “Is it that bad?”

He dropped his arm around her back, his hand now resting against her hip. “You do not need to hear his exact words, but you will understand the meaning.” Clay’s voice hardened. “He will do anything to have you—but we’re not going to let that happen, Sophia.
I
will not let that happen.”

She leaned into him as both shock and even a tiny bit of excitement flooded through her. The importance of his explanation was temporarily shoved aside as she concentrated on one word. He’d said
I.
Her heart
raced. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
Does that mean he truly cares for me?

On her other side, Martin cleared his voice, which seemed to echo in the night’s silence, jolting her from her wayward thoughts. She’d never felt safer—or more loved.

“You cannot be alone. Ever. It is just a matter of time, but Todd will come after you,” Martin said. “And vigilance. You must never let your guard down. Pay attention to everything going on around you.”