Untamed Journey (11 page)

Jackson’s comment worked like a timely
interruption by a maiden aunt. Ruth stepped back and hastily
averted her eyes. Whether from modesty or further temptation, she
might never understand or admit to herself.

“I can ride,” she responded with more
conviction than she felt. Riding seemed like the safest course to
her jumbled thoughts, and the cold rain just starting to fall would
surely put a damper on her heated body.

T
he rain didn’t stop
for the next five hours, and neither did they. Jackson took them
straight up a steep mountain pass, then veered off the main trail
to ride cross country through a heavily wooded forest. He breathed
easier with the arrival of the rain, but still didn’t lessen his
efforts to hide their trail. He’d gone head-to-head with Indian
trackers that could find a man in rain, snow, or heat. And in this
country, where mountain passes were scarce, he and Ruth were easy
prey. The best he could do was to wipe their tracks and mislead
anyone looking for them.

“You’ll need to walk again, Ruth. We’ve got
one last river to cross before we rest for the night.”

Jackson had already dismounted himself and
checked the integrity of the ropes tying the horses together when
he realized that Ruth was still sitting on Caboose. She looked
exhausted, although she hadn’t complained once - even through two
river crossings and unrelenting rain.

He held his gloved hand up to Ruth, “This is
the last one tonight, I promise. I know a place we can rest, and
even have a small fire. Don’t quit on me now.”

She managed a soggy half smile before
replying, “I’m not quitting. I was just resting my eyes.” With that
bit of bravado her only strength, Ruth half slid into his bracing
arms. She almost remembered what being warm and dry felt like,
wedged as she was between Jackson’s hard body and Caboose’s
steaming coat.

Almost, until a cold drop of sleet found its
way down her aching back. “Let’s get this over with, then. The
thought of hot coffee is enough motivation to ford the Mississippi,
much less this pathetic excuse for a creek.”

Jackson and Ruth both knew any water crossing
was dangerous in these conditions. The swelling creek before them
was just shy of river status under these pouring skies.

But they both kept these useless thoughts to
themselves and set about tying Ruth and her horse to the back of
Jackson’s mount. They let the other horses loose and hoped they
would follow. Having extra mounts wasn’t worth being swept down
river.

Jackson had already explained to Ruth that
there were only three directions they could go, and anyone who knew
these mountains would assume the third choice was too risky this
close to winter.

And they’d be right.

It was too dangerous to follow this path,
when this rain could turn to sleet and then to snow in less than an
hour. A fierce blizzard when they were ill-prepared could prove
more dangerous than armed men on their trail, but Jackson had
weighed their options, and decided to risk it. He figured they had
a couple of weeks yet before the snow set in.

And if not, he could get them to a makeshift
shelter along the trail. He knew every hollowed-out tree and rocky
overhang out here, and a few half-standing shelters left over from
the days when his uncle worked this trail. They’d be all right as
long as they kept moving and no one was injured.

Jackson took one last look at Ruth over his
shoulder. “Are you ready?”

At her nod, they set off down the steep,
muddy bank. He tried to keep their pace slow and steady, but the
pack horses had other ideas, and they crowded in behind Caboose.
“Whoa, boy. Keep those mares in line, now.” Jackson whispered into
his favored mount’s ear, encouraging the stallion to lead the new
mares and Ruth’s gelding. Jackson knew that on uncertain footing in
bad weather the pack horses would listen to another animal sooner
than to an unknown master. His bet paid off, as his stallion turned
to holler and nip at the horses trying to surge forward into the
river.

Jackson had a firm hold on his mount’s bridle
as they neared the middle of the river. The water was higher than
he had measured in faint moonlight, and he was afraid they‘d be
swimming the last bit. “Ruth, hang on. We might need to swim
alongside the horses to reach the far bank.”

He didn’t allow himself to worry if Ruth
could swim or not. It didn’t much matter at this point, as they had
to cross now or risk backtracking in the dark.

Ruth felt her footing give way, so she
tightened her left-handed grip on the slippery reins and wound her
right hand through Caboose’s mane. She started to panic when she
felt her boot wedge between a submerged rock and sucking mud. She
held on for dear life, as Caboose and the other horses were afloat
now and swimming strongly for the far bank and dry land.

Their strength pulled her straining foot
free, but she lost her short boot to the raging river. She kicked
as much as possible, as the current was fierce, and she could feel
her exhausted mount struggling for breath. She could barely make
out Jackson’s form in the dim light, but sighed in relief when she
saw he had reached solid ground.

Jackson strained every exhausted muscle as he
pulled his stallion up the thick muddy bank, searching quickly for
sure footing. His mount found his balance and pulled Ruth’s horse
up the bank with him. Jackson reached for Ruth as she struggled up
the side of the creek bed to safety.

When the last horse was under the shelter of
the trees, Ruth sat down hard on the ground, not sure if it was her
legs or spirit that demanded the moment’s rest.

“You did great. We can reach the shelter in
twenty minutes, maybe less.”

Ruth raised tired but still-game eyes to
Jackson’s intense stare. “I lost my boot.”

Jackson swore under his breath. He didn’t
have spare shoes and they wouldn’t have served for anything but
blisters on her tiny feet anyway. “You’ll have to make due for now.
Give Caboose a rest and let’s have you try riding the grey mare. We
can dry off and rest soon. We’ll have to detour a bit, but we can
find you some new shoes up the trail a ways.”

He hadn’t planned on stopping at Montgomery’s
place, as it was well-traveled, but Ruth couldn’t do without shoes.
Even if they could manage to keep her mounted the rest of the way,
frostbite was a real concern this time of year. It was simply too
far to go all the way to his place without warm and sturdy
shoes.

“Let’s mount up and get to shelter before we
both catch our death.” Jackson stood and pulled Ruth up with
him.

Her muscles were so tired Ruth thought she
might not have been able to stand without Jackson’s help. She
leaned on his strength as she paused to garner her own. After a
moment, she took a deep breath and reached for the pommel, hoisting
her sopping wet skirts up the length of the roan. Jackson’s warm
hand on her stocking foot gave her just enough help to drag her
weary body onto the placid horse.

Her shaking fingers were so cold, she wasn’t
sure she could hold on much longer. Ruth quickly glanced at
Jackson’s hand, which was still arranging her foot in the stirrup,
and silently longed for that warmth on her body. Her thoughts then
turned to images of being held tight in front of a warm fire, only
it was Jackson’s heat she felt most strongly at her back in her
daydream.

“Are you ready to ride?” Jackson’s voice over
the still-dripping rain shook Ruth from her reverie and brought her
back to reality quickly.

“It’s getting colder by the minute, and we
need to dry you off soon. Hang on tight. Shout if you want to be
tied down to the horse. It might be tricky keeping your foot in the
stirrup with no boot.” Jackson shoved the brim of his hat down a
bit more and quickly mounted his pack horse, leading Ruth directly
behind him this time, in case she were in danger of falling.

As the rain quickly turned to icy sleet with
the dropping temperature, Jackson prayed to every God he’d heard
tales of that he could find the old shelter in this miserable
weather. They’d be in a bad way if they had to spend another night
in the saddle. He was sure Ruth had the will, but not the strength
to keep going much further.

He glanced back to make sure she was all
right. At her nod, he turned the horses north, following a side
trail. They gained altitude quickly and Jackson silently wondered
if snow was on the way. It was early yet, but not unheard of.

Just a bit more luck and we might yet make
it, he thought.

Jackson dismounted to shout over the
drenching sleet into Ruth’s ear. “We’re searching for three large,
egg-shaped boulders that mark the turn off to our destination. Stop
me if you think you see them.”

She nodded in understanding, but then thought
miserably that it wasn’t fair to have come this far, and to have
battled a monster like Jasper Smith, only to die from the weather.
A most commonplace death – and not the ending she had dreamed about
for this journey out west.

Ruth’s heart leapt when Jackson shouted over
his shoulder that he’d found the trail marker. He turned his horse
off the path and up at a forty-five degree angle from the three
landmark boulders. Her horse followed automatically, and it took
all her balance to stay upright as she dodged thick branches
hanging over the trail.

After a few minutes of battling the rough
terrain, she felt the mare stop short. All Ruth could see was the
shadowy outline of Jackson’s wool coat as he forged ahead on foot.
He quickly returned to her side to help her dismount.

“We’re here. It might not seem like much, but
once we get a fire going you’ll be more comfortable.” He set about
unpacking the supplies they’d need as Ruth took in their
surroundings.

Their accommodations - as Jackson had
described them with a quirky smile of pride - were not much. The
cave was just a small overhang of jagged rocks, rather than a true
cave. But Ruth was so glad to step underneath shelter and no longer
feel icy sleet freezing her cheeks and slipping into her eyes that
she was willing to call it a cozy inn if she lived to tell the
tale.

“Can you start a fire with flint and steel?”
Jackson asked. “I need to hobble the horses for the night.”

“Yes, I know how. What about dry wood?”

“There should be some in the back corner.” He
pointed to Ruth’s left. “It’s trail custom to replace the wood pile
on your way out. Lucky for us, the previous occupants were decent
folk.”

She smiled a bit in amazement at this
kindness to strangers. Her aunt had only ever criticized all
western customs as barbaric and warned Ruth to hold tight to her
upbringing.

Ruth quickly unwrapped the flint and steel
that Jackson handed her. The oil cloth they were wrapped in had
kept everything bone dry, and Ruth had a small fire going by the
time Jackson returned from caring for their horses.

“It’s not so large that we’ll be seen?” She
asked the question more to cover her embarrassment than to get an
answer, as Jackson quickly began removing his wet coat and
shirt.

He rubbed his numbed hands together in
gratitude before the flickering flame. “It’s fine. In this weather,
and this far back off the trail, no one will be able to see us
unless they are ten feet away. I’m fairly certain we lost any
pursuit, but don’t wander off alone, just in case. And you can hang
your wet clothes on the left side of the fire to dry. Do you have
enough dry clothing for the night?” He sat on the ground to remove
his boots. Even his socks were soaked through. “If you’re
uncomfortable, feel free to turn your back while I’m undressing.
Otherwise I can –”

Ruth didn’t give him a chance to finish his
teasing words, as she quickly jumped up off her rock seat and gave
him her back. She was mortified to have been caught staring,
telling herself it was just the shock of the trip that had allowed
her to forget her modesty.

Jackson laughed silently at Ruth’s attempt to
put distance between them, when there was barely room for two pack
mules to huddle close in the sorry excuse for a shelter. He told
himself – repeatedly - that now was not the time to flirt with a
young woman, who was no doubt a virgin or near enough to it, to be
shocked by his carnal thoughts.

He sighed in regret as he quickly finished
dressing in dry long johns, heavy pants, and two wool shirts. About
the only good use for weather like this was warming up with a
beautiful woman, but he figured a gutsy woman like Ruth would have
no problem reminding him of his manners if he were to forget
them.

It was much too soon to start convincing this
amazing woman that his intentions were good and long term.

He knew Westerners were infinitely more
practical and down to earth than eastern society, even after the
terrible conditions the War brought to most. And he figured his
fast moving plans in regards to Miss Jameson would likely shock her
sensibilities.

If she’d spent more time out here, she’d have
learned that men didn’t waste any time around an available woman,
much less a pretty one who could shoot straight and face down an
armed train robber. In most wilderness towns, it would have been
perfectly right and proper for Jackson to propose already, short
acquaintance and all. He swore himself to patience, knowing he
could have all winter to convince Miss Jameson of his charms if the
weather kept on.

“I’m finished, Ruth. I’ll give you my back
now so you can get dry. You’re already shivering, even standing
next to the fire.”

Jackson turned around and knelt on the
ground, opening his saddlebags to start pulling out hardtack and
biscuits for dinner.

She kept her eye on Jackson, making sure he
kept his back turned. She instinctively knew she had nothing to
fear from this man. He was no Jasper Smith. That poor excuse for a
man would have left her to drown in the river or sold her off to
the pursuing outlaws to save his own skin, if they had shared this
journey. Still, her upbringing had been practical, if not
puritanical. She probably knew more than most unmarried women her
age, since she’d been helping her physician-father since she was
old enough to talk.