This Daring Journey by Misty M. Beller

Author:Misty M. Beller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian historical fiction, Inspirational historical romance, Historical romance, historical fiction, rocky mountain story, rocky mountains western and frontier, Montana mountain ranch, canadian rocky mountains, canadian fontier, pioneer and frontier, western and frontier
Publisher: Misty M. Beller Books, Inc.
Published: 2019-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

A DAY LATER, SAMUEL eased back in the saddle as things finally started to feel back to normal. Aside from his raw wrinkled fingers anyway, a side-effect from washing soiled baby cloths in the spring that morning.

Never had he expected he’d be washing a newborn’s laundry in the middle of the Canadian mountains, but Cherry was running out of clean cloths, and Moriah still looked pretty pale. She’d insisted she wouldn’t hold them back another day, but if she started to look feverish again, he’d call a halt no matter how much she argued.

As his gelding charged up a rocky section of the trail, he wrapped a protective hand around the baby strapped to his chest. At least Moriah had allowed him to carry her for this first stretch. She’d have her hands full just staying in the saddle now that the terrain was more treacherous.

By the time they stopped for a midday rest and meal, Moriah’s face had grown pale again. He settled her and the baby in as comfortable a spot as he could find, then turned to Matisse. “We should let the horses graze a little if we can find grass.”

With both of them gone, Moriah would have a private moment to care for the little one. And grazing the horses would give them an excuse for an extended rest.

A little bit later, they sat in a circle, eating the last of the pemmican and leftover beans. Even cold, the meal satisfied all the hungry places in his gut. Matisse practically swallowed his food whole, a practice Samuel kept waiting for him to ease out of now that he had regular meals. But the boy never seemed to fill. Kind of like Rachel’s son Andy had been on their journey northward.

He leaned back against a rock and watched Matisse stuff an oversized bite of pemmican in his mouth. “I think you’ve grown an inch or two since you joined up with us.”

Matisse glanced up, eyes wide and guilty, as though he’d been caught stealing an extra bite of pie from the serving tin. Then one corner of his mouth tipped up. “Mrs. Clark’s food is much better than Pierre’s ever was.” He slid a glance to Moriah as a bit of color filled his ruddy cheeks.

She offered him a weak smile. “I learned from my mother, who’s full Peigan. She’s the best cook in the camp.”

A yearning crept into Matisse’s gaze. “How many are in your camp?”

“About fifteen lodges most of the time. Maybe forty or fifty people.” Her face softened. “My mother will likely take you in as another son. If we don’t find your real family, that is. She’s always caring for strays and anyone who needs a place to stay.”

Matisse’s jaw set in a hard line, but his eyes kept that longing, almost fragile expression.

They’d done a good thing inviting the lad to ride with them. Thank you, Lord, for helping it turn out well.

The boy pushed to his feet, maybe in an attempt to steel himself from a topic that left him vulnerable.

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