The Doctor's Lady (15 page)

“Of course I do. I’m just not willing to give up.”

“We don’t have to give up. Just slow down.”

For the first time since they’d started their mad race to reach Bellevue in time to catch the caravan, Priscilla was ready for a break. She understood Eli’s urgency. The nagging need to be near David and Running Feet had prodded her onward. But now . . . she was almost too tired to care anymore.

“The women can take turns riding in the wagon if they need to,” Eli said.

“We’re taking a day off tomorrow to rest.”

“You’re jesting, aren’t you?” Eli’s brows shot up. “We can’t afford a day off. It’s going to be hard enough to catch up as it is.”

“We’re not going.” Henry pulled Mabel closer. “You can go on without us if you want, but I refuse to make my wife travel one more day without resting.”

“I realize we’re all tired,” Eli said slowly, as if trying to rein in his frustration. “But if we miss meeting up with the fur trappers, we might as well forget about the mission.”

Priscilla’s body sagged, and weariness nearly pushed her to the ground. More than anything she wanted to show Eli how strong she was.

He’d worked hard to get them to that point, had gone without sleep, had pushed himself harder than anyone. But the idea of taking a break from the endless jostling in the saddle to wash clothes and write in her journal was too hard to resist.

“Do you think it will hurt that much if we take one day off?” she asked.

Eli blew out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re taking his side?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. It’s just that we’re all exhausted, and once we’ve had the chance to rest, maybe we’ll be able to go even faster—”

“You
are
taking his side.”

“This isn’t about sides.” She wiped a hand across her dusty brow. Grit had made its home in every crevice of her face. What she wouldn’t give for a bath—a real, hot bath. “This is about running ourselves ragged. Even you. You haven’t slept a full night since we left.”

“I should have known you’d agree with him.” Hurt flashed through his eyes.

“Brother Spalding is merely trying to make a wise decision and do what’s best for all of us.”

“And how would he know what’s best? I’m the one who’s traveled west before. Not him. If anyone knows best, it’s me.”

“We do trust you, Brother Ernest, and we appreciate all your efforts,” Mabel chimed in. “If not for you, we would have had to stop long ago.”

“Can’t any of you see the urgency of our situation? The Fur Company steamboat is probably nearing Bellevue. And we have several more days of hard travel ahead of us.”

“God will make a way,” Mabel offered.

“We need to do our part too,” Eli retorted.

Mabel shrank back at his biting comment.

“We need to keep going,” Eli persisted, “or we won’t catch up.”

“That’s enough,” Henry said calmly. “I’ll get Mabel situated, and we can discuss this later. Privately.”

Henry assisted Mabel toward one of the wagons. Priscilla stared after them, and a new and sudden longing poured over her. What would it be like to have the kind of marriage Henry and Mabel had? A real one, where people cared about each other openly, without reservation?

“I can’t believe this,” Eli muttered, glowering at the couple. “If the Board hadn’t insisted that I bring everyone, I’d be halfway there by now.”

Although his complaint didn’t surprise her, the comment reached out to sting her anyway. After how hard she’d ridden, how uncomfortable and grueling the constant traveling had been, how little she’d complained—surely he could see she wasn’t the burden he’d thought she’d be.

He jerked off his hat, wiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead, then slammed his hat back down, but not before his gaze connected with hers.

She was sure the hurt was written on her face—especially when his eyes flickered with remorse.

“Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We’re all just tired,” she offered softly.

He nodded. “Let’s just get some rest, and hopefully we’ll be able to think more clearly tomorrow.”

“Mrs. Doc go sit?” Richard tugged her.

“Yes, Richard. Thank you.”

She’d lift up prayers day and night that God would help them catch the trappers’ caravan. If they didn’t, she hated to think how much more Eli would come to regret marrying her.

South of Bellevue

P
riscilla sang the last note of their morning hymn and lifted her eyes heavenward to the overcast sky. She tried to block out the picture of Mabel’s hand resting on her expanding stomach and focus instead on the object of her worship.

The Lord didn’t deserve her halfhearted praise, tainted with pangs of envy and constant worry about whether they would reach the fur trappers on time.

Although Eli and Henry had finally come to an agreement that they would rest for half a day, Eli had been tense during the two days since then. He’d been short with everyone and had pushed them hard in their race to reach Bellevue before the caravan left.

Across the campfire, Henry opened his Bible.

He started to read, but Mabel stopped him with a touch of her hand. “Maybe Dr. Ernest would like to take a turn reading the Scripture this morning.”

The low-hanging clouds had brought dampness to the air that surrounded them and seemed to push at them, urging them to hurry, to break camp and make haste in their pursuit.

Yet no matter the urgency, they had all agreed—even Eli—that they must start each day seeking the Lord for his blessing and guidance.

“Don’t you think that would be a good idea, Brother Spalding?” Mabel’s voice was too cheerful. “Let’s have Dr. Ernest read from God’s Word this morning.”

“No thank you,” Eli said, drawing himself up.

“I think it would be lovely,” Mabel continued. “I’m sure we would all enjoy hearing you read.”

Henry frowned. “I don’t know—”

“Come now, Brother Spalding.” She patted his arm and flashed her crooked teeth at her husband in a wide smile. “God’s Word has a way of cheering up the heart. It’s just the antidote Dr. Ernest needs.”

Henry sighed but leaned forward and handed Eli the Bible.

Eli shook his head.

“We’d love to hear you today,” Priscilla said.

He turned upon her with a look as dark as a sudden spring storm. “I said I don’t want to read. Let Henry.”

His words snapped at her and pushed her to the back of the log she’d used for a seat. “I just thought it might help—”

“I don’t like reading aloud. I never have.”

A gust of wind blew the smoke from their campfire toward her, stung her eyes, and burned a path to her heart. She blinked back tears.

“Look. I’m sorry. I’m better at praying.” Eli pushed himself off the overturned crate he’d been sitting on. “It’s time to go anyway.”

Priscilla batted at the gray swirls blowing into her face. It was only the smoke making her eyes water—certainly not his shortness with her.

“We need to load up.” He grabbed the crate and tossed inside the spoons and plates they’d already rinsed. The clank of the metal ricocheted through the camp.

Mabel’s smile wobbled. She looked from Eli to Priscilla and then back.

What must Mabel think of their marriage? Priscilla ducked her head and reached for the kettle left from breakfast. She was sure the Spaldings had noticed by now that she and Eli didn’t have the same kind of relationship they had.

Henry obviously took his vows to his wife seriously and was doing his best to be a God-fearing and considerate husband. And even though Mabel was plain, he was apparently looking past that to the woman’s sweet spirit.

“White man on horse coming,” one of the Indian boys called.

Eli straightened and pushed up the brim of his hat.

They watched the rider gallop nearer. “Howdy,” the stranger called over the clomping of his horse’s hooves.

As the man drew up next to them, Eli nodded a greeting. “Where you from?”

The man touched the brim of his hat. “From the Otoe Mission Agency near Bellevue.” His clean clothes and trimmed hair and beard made it clear he wasn’t a trapper. “I’ve been helping Moses Merrill build his school for the Otoe Indian children.”

“Merrill, the Baptist missionary?” Eli asked.

“Yessir, the one and the same.”

“We’re headed toward Bellevue. How far do we have to go?”

“You got a hard day’s ride ahead of you, if not more.”

Eli exchanged a look with Henry. “Then if we push hard, there’s the chance we could make it by nightfall?”

“Maybe.” The man glanced at their wagons and then at the women. His brows lifted. “Maybe not.”

Eli frowned. He didn’t have to say anything for Priscilla to know what he was thinking. They were slowing him down.

The stranger tipped his hat at her and smiled. “Morning, ma’am. Aren’t you a bright spot on a cloudy day.”

Priscilla smiled back. “Thank you.”

“What’s a lovely lady like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” the stranger asked.

“We’re heading to Oregon Country to set up a mission among the Nez Perce Indians.”

“You don’t say?” His eyes filled with doubt. “Never heard of women crossing that far.”

His eyes canvassed her, and his brows arched higher. “Seems like a right foolish idea to me. That trail is hard enough for the toughest trapper. No woman is gonna make it.”

“Well, we will.” She lifted her chin, but discouragement slithered around her stomach and squeezed it hard.

Eli came and stood next to her.

She refused to look at him and see the stranger’s words reflected in his eyes.

“We’re hooking up with Captain Fitzpatrick and his caravan,” Eli said. “You know if they’ve left Bellevue yet?”

“Yep. They left yesterday mornin’.”

“Yesterday?” Eli groaned.

“Well, let’s stop conversing and get going.” Henry tossed a crate into the back of one of the wagons.

“Best of luck to you.” The man on the horse gathered the reins and then slapped a hand against his horse. “You’re gonna need to ride day and night to catch up with that caravan.” He spurred his horse forward at a gallop.

“If we hadn’t taken that half a day off, maybe we’d have a chance to catch them,” Eli mumbled, watching the man ride away.

“Stop grumbling, and let’s load up.” Henry reached for a blanket. “And let’s all try to remember Psalm 9:10. ‘And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.’ The Lord’s been with us and brought us this far. He won’t desert us now.”

A battle of emotions waged across Eli’s face—frustration with Henry and determination to control himself.

“He’s just trying to do what’s best for Mabel,” Priscilla offered softly.

“And I’m just trying to do what’s best for all of us.”

“It’s not his fault the trappers keep leaving without us.”

His lips formed a thin line. “I haven’t worked this hard or come this far to lose out on the opportunity to make it west.”

“But we certainly don’t want anything to happen to Mabel or the baby at the expense of trying to reach the caravan, do we?”

A battle waged across his features. For a long moment, he held himself rigid. He glanced sideways to where Mabel stood at the back of one of the wagons, folding and putting away their blankets.

Finally he let out a long breath. “The only thing left for me to do is to ride ahead and see if I can convince Fitzpatrick to wait for us.”

Priscilla’s heartbeat pattered to a stop. “Ride ahead? Is that really necessary?”

But he was already stalking away. “I’m leaving,” he announced.

“Where are you going?” Henry asked.

“I’m going to catch up with the caravan and beg them to stop,” Eli replied, grabbing some jerky and leftover johnnycakes from a crate.

“Do you really think that will work?” Henry swung Mabel’s sidesaddle in place over her horse and turned a frown upon Eli.

“Fitzpatrick is a reasonable man. If I explain the situation and remind him that we already paid for the escort, maybe he’ll give us a break.” Eli strode toward his horse, wrapping the food in his handkerchief. “Even if I can’t get them to stop, at least I can ask them to slow down. Maybe then we’ll actually have a slight chance of catching them.”

With growing dread, Priscilla watched him stuff the food into his saddlebag. “Now that we’re together again, I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up.”

What if they got lost without him? Or what if they got into trouble? Eli was right—Henry didn’t have the expertise. Or the strength.

“Anything could happen,” she added weakly. But hadn’t she been priding herself on how well she was doing and how little danger they’d encountered?

“You’ll be fine.” Eli glanced to the darkening sky. A strong gust of wind whipped at his hat, and he jammed it further down on his head. “If it storms, don’t stop. Wrap up in your India rubbers and keep going.”

The humid scent of rain enshrouded her.

He slung himself over his saddle. “Push yourselves hard, and God willing, you’ll catch up to me and the caravan in a couple days.”

She wanted to reach out, to stop him, to tell him not to leave them. But she stood rigid, trying to make herself into the strong woman he wanted.

He urged his horse forward, his body straining, ready to be on his way. But at the last second he looked back at her and swerved, drawing the beast up beside her.

From underneath the brim of his hat, he peered down at her. The intensity in the blue depths dragged her in until she felt as if she were drowning.

“You’ve done good so far, Priscilla.”

At the unexpected words of praise, she sucked in a breath.

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered there for an instant before returning to her eyes, darker, bluer.

Her lungs stopped working, and she clutched a hand to her chest.

“I’ll see your pretty face in a couple days.”

She nodded, too breathless to respond.

He kicked his heels into his horse and left her standing, watching after him, wondering if he was taking her heart with him.

A fool’s errand. That’s what it had been.

Eli should have known the caravan wouldn’t change their plans. He didn’t know why he had even bothered trying to convince them to wait.

His eyelids drooped and his body sagged. Aching weariness had invaded every muscle. After two straight days and nights of riding, he had to rest or he would drop off his horse in fatigue.

But if he didn’t keep going, he wouldn’t be able to make it back to Priscilla and the others in time to lead them through the shortcut.

His chin bobbed against his chest. Dizziness swirled with the pounding in his temples.

All his pleading with Fitzpatrick hadn’t done him a lick of good. The man had claimed he had no objections to the missionaries joining the caravan but had insisted he couldn’t slow down for them.

Of course, Black Squire had been right there, double-talking as usual. Out of one side of his mouth, he claimed he had nothing to do with them missing the steamboat in Liberty and thanked Eli for saving Running Feet’s life. But out of the other side of his mouth, he made sure to remind Captain Fitzpatrick they were already behind schedule.

It was only when Eli was getting ready to leave that Captain Fitzpatrick finally pulled him aside and told him about the cutoff that could shave some time off their travel.

A drop of rain splattered against Eli’s hand. He lifted his face to the billowing clouds. Another drop hit his cheek.

His cold fingers fumbled behind his saddle for his India rubber cloak, and he dragged it around his body just as the rain began to pelt him in full force.

He could only hope the thrashing rain would help keep him awake.

“Lord Almighty,” he prayed, “this trip is testing me beyond my endurance. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going on. I’d appreciate an extra measure of your strength right about now. ’Cuz mine’s running out.”

The long hours in the saddle alone had given him plenty of time to think about the precariousness of their situation. Even though he’d been wrong to blame the others for missing the caravan, he decided that if he was going to see his plans for the mission succeed, he couldn’t rely on Henry or anyone else. It would have to be himself and the Almighty. Just like it always had been.

Eli ducked his head, and the rain poured off the brim of his hat in streams onto his cloak. He cupped his hands and caught the water, then lowered his head and took a long drink.

When he lifted his head, the wind brought him the faint echoes of a scream.

His muscles tightened, and he tugged the reins, bringing his horse to a standstill. Through the patter of raindrops against the leaves, he strained his ear, every sense in his body on edge.

Another burst of wind carried the scream again, this time clearer.

Apprehension wormed through his pores and into his blood. Was it Priscilla?

From the thickening of the undergrowth and foliage, he’d guessed he was drawing near to the Elkhorn River. What if Henry was attempting the crossing?

Eli had made it through the muddy waters on his way toward the caravan. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed. But the rain had been heavy at times during the past twenty-four hours, and the river was likely overflowing its banks now.

If Henry had pushed the group at a decent pace, they’d likely be nearing the river by now. What if something had gone wrong?

He kicked his horse. “Get up,” he shouted, slapping the beast, spurring it to move as fast as it could.