Grace on the Mountain Trail by Misty M. Beller

Author:Misty M. Beller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Misty M. Beller

CHAPTER 13

By the time Lola helped White Owl unsaddle the horses, Will was up and hobbling around. White Owl carried their food satchel back to the fire ring, and Lola knelt to stir the coals to life. They might all appreciate a warm midday meal.

As White Owl left to gather firewood, Will hobbled into camp, his father at his side. "What are you doing?” It sounded as though he meant his words to be stern, but the pain lacing them turned his voice raspy.

She managed a smile for him. "Starting some meat to boil so we can have stew for lunch."

His scowl deepened. "We're not staying here. Thought you were in a hurry to find your brother."

She straightened. "We should rest today. We can start fresh tomorrow morning."

"The sooner we leave this place, the better." He turned to look around, the action almost wooden because he shifted his entire body instead of twisting his neck. He must have a powerful ache in his head. "Where's that horse? She won't throw me again."

Lola had to work to hold in her sigh. "Sit a while, Will. Please. If you sleep an hour, your head will likely feel better. We can talk about riding on then." The last thing she wanted was to deal with his grumpiness all day.

He spun on her, then winced and raised his hand to cup his brow. "Where's that horse? We're riding now." He spoke through gritted teeth, which might be from pain or anger. Or both.

She rose and stepped around the fire to his side, touching his arm. She used her most placating tone. "You don't have to ride her again. I don't want anyone to. She'll stay a packhorse. Two of us can double up, and she can carry a heavier load of supplies."

He let out a hiss through his clenched teeth. "I suppose you're planning to ride with that Indian." He bit out the word as though he were speaking of Satan himself. "If you do, you'll have taken leave of every last bit of your senses. And I won't be responsible for what happens to you."

Surely it was only the pain that made him speak so cruelly. Yet it took all of her restraint to keep from slamming a palm across his cheek. How dare he slander a good man like that?

She raised her chin. "I assure you, I’m very much in control of my senses. You can ride the mare White Owl has been using. We’ll saddle the horses and be on our way." If he was going to be so stubborn and insulting, he could ride with an aching head. She wouldn't force him to go easy on himself against his will.

Mr. VanBuren's face held a grim expression as he helped her and White Owl ready the horses once more. It irked her that he wouldn't put his son in his proper place—or even speak up to recommend a better course of action. But after what he'd said about their relationship, she assumed that he worried that any crosswise word would spread a deeper rift between them.

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