The Christmas Journey

He shifted again and winced. “What makes you so sure help is coming?”

Jo threw another stick on the fire. “Whenever Licorice gets spooked she heads straight for home. As soon as she shows up without me, Danny’ll put out the alarm.”

“And if she doesn’t get there this time?”

“My sister’s the worrying type. By now she’s started hounding the sheriff and won’t let up until he sends someone out to look.” If only she hadn’t told Danny she might be late. No point worrying him with that little bit of information though. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you to a doctor soon enough.”

“Not worried. Just thinking we should make use of that horse.”

“We already talked about that. I’m not leaving you here alone.” She tugged on her ear. “I could try making a litter I guess. We have most of the materials—the bedroll, rope, leather from the bridle.” She glanced toward the shrouded body and shivered. “I could even use the horse blankets if we needed ’em. Just have to try to cut a few saplings for the poles—”

“Or we could ride double.”

She studied him. “Do you think you could mount up?”

His mouth tightened. “I might need a hand, but I could do it.”

“I don’t know if we should put you to the test until we have to. There’s still time for help to get here before dark.”

His jaw clinched and she could tell he wasn’t happy with what he was about to say. “Look, I’ll be honest. Right now I believe I have the strength to do this, with your help. But I’m not sure how long that’ll last.” He stared at her with fiercely determined eyes. “So if we’re going to mount up, it had better be soon.”

Jo glanced toward the trail from town. No sign of help. The temperature had already started dropping and it’d be dusk soon.

She also didn’t care much for the flushed look of his face. If he developed a fever things could go from bad to worse in a hurry. He was right. Time to fish or cut bait.

The thing was, she wasn’t just worried about getting him up on the horse, though that was going to take more than a bit of effort. Was he really up to the long ride back to Knotty Pine? He’d admitted his strength was fading. His wound could start bleeding again, or worse, he could fall off. If that happened they’d be worse off than before.

What a pickle!

Jo drew her shoulders back. Better to leave the hand wringing to Cora Beth. It wasn’t a great choice but it was the only one they had. The last thing she needed was to be caught out here after dark, with Otis roaming around somewhere.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot. You conserve what strength you have while I put out the fire and get the horse ready.”

He nodded.

“Just try to stay awake.” Grabbing the fallen branch she’d been using as a makeshift cane, Jo levered herself up. She’d probably be sore for the next few days but she’d put up with worse aches before. And it wasn’t anything like what Mr. Lassiter was dealing with.

She still had trouble thinking of him as just Ry. Funny thing how he’d insisted on addressing her as Josie instead of Jo. No one had called her that before. Ma had always used her given name of Josephine, and her nieces called her Aunt JoJo. But to everyone else she was just plain Jo.

Josie. Kind of had a nice ring to it. Not too frilly or fancy sounding, but definitely recognizable as a girl’s name.

The thought struck her then that she would finally have a story of her own to add to her journal. Not that this was the way she’d wanted it to happen, but it was an adventure just the same.

Heavenly Father, I know I’ve been praying for an adventure and now that I’ve found myself smack-dab in the middle of a humdinger of one it don’t seem quite right for me to be asking You to end it so soon. But I guess that’s what I’m doing.

Mr. Lassiter don’t deserve to suffer just ’cause I want some excitement. Especially since he pushed himself so hard to save me. So please, whatever it takes, keep him safe.

Ry roused to the feel of a damp cloth on his forehead.

He opened his eyes to see Josie staring down at him, her face creased in worry.

“You sure you want to try this? We can always wait a little longer for help to come.”

“I’m all right. Just resting.”

Doubt flashed in her eyes at his obvious fib.

“Let’s see if you can sit up first,” she temporized.

Determined to reassure her, Ry steeled himself and pushed up with his good arm, doing his best to ignore the spinning sensation. He gritted his teeth, chafing at this unaccustomed feebleness. If he hadn’t had her hand at his back he might not have made it.

After a moment he felt steady again and took his bearings. He must have been out for more than the few seconds he’d thought. She’d managed to douse the fire without him even noticing.

“First we’re going to put that arm of yours in a sling and secure it against your chest so we can keep from jarring it as much as possible. Won’t do to have you bleeding to death on me.”

Where had she found those strips of cloth? His eyes flashed to the blanket-covered body in sudden understanding. The woman not only had gumption but she was cannily resourceful.

“That was a mighty vicious kick Otis gave you,” she said, bringing his gaze back around. “You sure you can stand okay?”

That explained why his thigh hurt so bad. “I’ll manage.”

“Have you ever ridden bareback before?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. ’Cause I figure that’s our best chance of getting the two of us on that animal.

Made sense. Riding double with a saddle was not a comfortable proposition.

“Problem is, without stirrups we need a mounting block. There’s a fallen tree over where I’ve tethered the horse. If you use me as a crutch, can you make it?”

He eyed the distance separating him from the horse. About ten yards. Might as well have been a mile. “I’ll make it.”

“Good.” She studied her handiwork with the sling. “How does that feel? Not too tight is it?”

“It’s fine.” Enough talk, time for action.

“Okay then. Whenever you’re ready, put your good arm around my neck and I’ll help you up, nice and steady.”

Bracing himself, Ry nodded and did as he was told.

By the time he finally stood upright, he was as winded as a racehorse after a gallop and drenched in sweat.

Josie supported him, not saying a word or clucking over him in useless sympathy. He appreciated her patience and restraint.

He was also determined not to lean on her one jot more than necessary. He just needed her to provide an anchor when the waves of dizziness hit.

He’d be hanged if he’d let any of his injuries stop him. It was imperative that he get her away from here, and it seemed the only way to budge her was to go with her.

Lord, let me make it to that horse without giving this woman more troubles than she’s already had.

He let her lead him across the short patch of ground, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. And on not falling.

When they reached the makeshift mounting block he paused, gathering every bit of energy he still possessed for the effort ahead.

Before he could move, she spoke up. “Now this is going to be the tricky part. I’ll need to ride up front so I can guide the horse. That means I should mount first. Can you support yourself while I do that?”

Ry nodded. It had to be done, so he would do it. He’d always prided himself on his horsemanship—time to give it a real test. Mounting with no stirrups and only one good arm would be tricky under the best of circumstances. Doing it while he was weak as a babe and she was already taking up a good chunk of available space would ratchet it up to a whole new level of difficulty.

He moved his arm from her shoulders to the horse’s back, aware that she kept her hand on him, ready to assist if he should fall.

“Steady now. Once you’re ready I’m going to let go so I can mount up. I’ll help you up after me as much as I can.”

He took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” Almost before he had time to draw a second breath she was up on the horse. She scooted forward then reached down. “I’ll hold the horse as steady as I can. Take my hand so I can help pull you up.

The next few minutes were fragmented splinters of motion. He grabbed hold of her hand, then found himself chest first over the back of the horse, pain clawing through his injured arm and shoulder. The next thing he knew he had somehow gotten his leg over the horse without any memory of doing so, and was maneuvering himself into an upright position.

Which brought him face-to-face with his next dilemma.

“This isn’t the time to worry about niceties,” she said, obviously reading his mind again. “Ain’t no way you’re going to be able to stay on this horse without holding on to me. We’re not budging from here until that arm of yours is around my waist.”

She was right of course. Still, it felt like taking liberties he wasn’t entitled to. “Yes, ma’am.” He eased his right hand around her surprisingly trim waist, but managed to hold himself erect, keeping several inches between his chest and her back.

She set the horse in motion. “I’m going to try to keep a slow, steady pace. This probably won’t be the most comfortable ride you ever took, but it’ll be best if we go straight through without stopping.”

“I agree.” He swallowed an oath as the horse tossed its head before settling into a steady rhythm. “The sooner we get back to town, the better.” He wasn’t certain he could climb back up on this animal if he ever got off of it.

He’d just have to live with the fact that they were headed back to Knotty Pine and not toward Foxberry. For now, Josie’s needs would come before his, and even before Belle’s.

Jo wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet. Getting him up on the horse had only been half the battle. The other half would be keeping him there until they reached town.

The man had a lot of grit, she’d give him that. Not many would have managed to come through that ambush and lived to tell the tale.

She’d been well aware of his efforts to spare her during their walk across the clearing, and again when he’d mounted up.

Even now, with his hand around her waist, she could feel his effort not to lean against her. If she’d had reason to question whether he was an honorable man before, she could set her mind at ease now.

Probably be best to keep him talking so she could gauge how alert he was. Besides, she liked the sound of his voice. “Tell me about that family of yours back on the ranch.”

“I have a brother and a sister, Griff and Sadie.” His voice had slowed and deepened, his Texas drawl coming out. And she could feel the warmth of his breath stir the hair at her nape.

She told herself the shiver that fluttered her shoulders was due to the dropping temperature. “I said tell me about them, not name them.”

“What do you want to know?”

“The usual stuff. Are they older or younger than you? Are they married? What are they like?”

“Both younger—Griff by two years, Sadie by five. Neither is married.”

He paused and she wondered if he would give her any more information.

“Griff takes after Pa—a rancher through and through. Hawk’s Creek is in his blood and you couldn’t pry him away with a crowbar.”

So, was he implying that he himself wasn’t so tied to the land? She could sure relate to that. God had made this world way too big to limit yourself to one little patch of it.

“Sadie’s what you’d call impetuous. She’s a bit on the clumsy side, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She’s as comfortable at a barn raising as she is at a ladies auxiliary tea.”

Sounded like someone she’d get along fine with. “How often do you see them?”

“Two, three times a year.”

It was like wresting a bone from a dog to get any information out of him. Did he hurt too bad to talk? Or did he just not like the questions she was asking? “Tell me about the ranch.”

“Hawk’s Creek? It’s just north of Tyler. Covers about six hundred acres all told. My family raises some of the finest Hereford stock around. Not to mention cutting horses.”

There was an unmistakable touch of pride in his voice. Sounded like he still had a fondness for the place. “So how did you end up going to law school?”

“Long story.”

His voice was getting deeper, his words dragging. She had to keep him alert. “Seems we’ve got nothing but time. Talk to me.”

“My grandfather’s a lawyer and prominent member of Philadelphia society. Mother was his only child.”

He paused and she leaned against him briefly. She could almost see him pull himself back together.

“She was the apple of his eye,” he continued. “He didn’t like it much when she up and married my pa and moved to Texas. Took it even harder when she died without ever moving back.”

“And?” she prodded, placing her hand on top of his at her waist.

“Grandfather always wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. The year I turned sixteen, he asked my father to send one of us boys up to Philadelphia to spend a few months with him. Truth be told, I think Pa felt guilty over having deprived Grandfather of his daughter. Whatever the reason, he agreed.”

“And you volunteered.”

“It was only supposed to be for the summer.”

That sounded almost defensive.

He shifted but his hand never moved from her waist. “When summer was over, Grandfather wanted me to accompany him on a trip to Boston. When we returned he needed help researching a major case. Then he wanted to show me his lodge up in the Adirondacks. The entire fall stretched out that way, one ‘one more thing’ after another, and it was Christmas before I made it home.”

The offhand, almost resentful way he cataloged his travels, as if he’d just taken a not-too-enjoyable walk around the block, flabbergasted her. She’d give her eyeteeth to have such an experience. “Sounds like he went all out to give you a taste of what your mother’s world had been like.”

“I never thought of it that way.” He seemed to ponder on that a moment before he went on. “Anyway, before I left Philadelphia, he asked me to consider returning to attend the university and perhaps enter law school. It was hard to leave because I knew he was lonely and that in a way I was a tie to his daughter.”

“Is that the only reason you went back?” Surely life in a big city like Philadelphia would have spoiled him for something as simple as life on a ranch.

“Things had changed while I was away. Pa relied more on Griff to help run the ranch. Sadie was growing into the lady of the house. Pa spent more time with his work than with the family. Everything appeared to be running smoothly without me.” He shifted slightly. “I just seemed like more of an outsider there than I had at Grandfather’s.”

Much as Jo wanted to get away from Knotty Pine and see the world, there was something sad about his story. Family was so important. No wonder he hadn’t answered when she asked which place he called home.

“Don’t know why I just told you all that,” he said gruffly. “Must be woozier than I thought.”

“Is your pa still around?”

“No. He died two years ago. Griff runs the ranch now.”

Did he resent his younger brother for stepping in to the oldest son’s role? Or was he relieved not to have that burden?

They rode in silence for a while. Jo figured as long as his grip on her waist was firm enough he wasn’t in any danger of drifting off.

And it definitely was firm, though not uncomfortably so. At least not in the usual sense. His hold wasn’t the least bit inappropriate. He merely used her to steady himself. He’d have held onto a sack of flour the same way. Even so, something about the near-embrace made her feel safe, secure, protected in an almost intimate kind of way. She’d never experienced such feelings before.

She’d always done her best to discourage any thoughts the men in Knotty Pine might have of walking out with her. After all, she had big plans to travel some day, and marriage would only get in the way. She needed wings, not roots.

Not that the menfolk had lined up to come courting. She wasn’t exactly the kind of woman men looked for in a wife. Too outspoken and independent, she supposed.

Funny, though, how that didn’t seem to bother Mr. Lassiter…

She gave her head a shake, not comfortable with where that line of thought might lead. Time for more talk and less thinking. “So nowadays you spend most of your time in Philadelphia? Do you get to travel to other places?”

“Sometimes.”

“Like where?”

“There’s that hunting lodge in the Adirondacks my grandfather owns—we spend several weeks a year there. And I’ve been to most parts of New England at one time or another.”

“Ever been to another country?”

“Once.”

His one word answers were less than informative. “Where to?”

“Greece.” He seemed to be speaking with an effort. “A client hired me to check on some legal aspects of an estate he’d inherited there.”

Greece! She had a world map in her room, one of her dearest treasures. On it were pins marking all the interesting-sounding places various travelers had told her about. This was the first one from Greece. “The good Lord willing, I aim to do my own share of traveling some day.”

“Is that so?”

She hadn’t realized she’d voiced that thought aloud. No shame in it though. “Yep. Just as soon as Danny’s old enough to take care of the livery on his own I plan to set out and see as much of the world as I can.”

“By yourself?”

“Sure. Other women have done it. Look at Ida Pfeiffer and Nellie Bly and Isabella Bird. And my own Aunt Pearl.”

“If any woman can, you…”

The slurred words drifted into something incoherent as his grip on her waist slackened.

“Mister!” She grabbed his hand. She had to keep him on this horse.

If he slid off there’d be no getting him back up.

Chapter Seven

The sharp command jerked Ry back to consciousness. There had been more than a warning in her voice, there’d been worry edged with outright desperation. And it was his fault.

On top of everything else on her plate right now she had to worry about keeping him on the horse as if he were some toddler astride his first pony.

“Sorry. I’m okay now.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

“Lean against me if you need to. Just don’t you dare fall off this animal.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ry found himself amused by her military general attitude. And also touched by her courage.

But he refused to let himself take advantage of her generosity any more than absolutely necessary. He’d keep himself upright under his own steam as long as possible. And he offered up a prayer that his “steam” would last long enough to get them where they were going.

“Tell me about this Aunt Pearl of yours.”

“She was a really colorful woman. Spent most of her life as the personal companion to an opera singer. The two of them traveled all over the world and met lots of exciting people.”

“Sounds like an interesting life.” He tried to focus on her words, anything to keep the blackness at bay.

“Oh, it was. Aunt Pearl was fifty-one when Madame Liddy passed on, and she came to live with us. I was six at the time and used to spend hours listening to her stories.”

She gave a selfconscious laugh, a surprisingly feminine sound that brought a smile to his lips.

“Aunt Pearl used to say she saw herself in me. Made me promise to not let myself get locked away in Knotty Pine, at least not until I’d tasted what the rest of the world had to offer.”

“How old were you when you made the promise?”

“Eight. But I never forgot it. And I’m going to do it someday, too, even if it takes me another fifteen years to work out the hows and wherefores.”

“I believe you.” And he did.

They rode in silence for a while. Or maybe she did some talking. But his efforts were now wholly focused on staying upright and he didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

Twice more he caught himself as he slumped forward. The third time she halted the horse and stared at him over her shoulder. The worry in her eyes cut as deep into him as any blade.

“I hope you’re a praying man, Mister, ’cause we need some help from the Almighty to get us the rest of the way home.”

She chewed on her lower lip a moment then seemed to come to a decision. “I have to climb down to take care of something. If you can hold steady for just a bit, you can lean over the horse’s neck as soon as I’m out of the way. Think you can manage?”

He nodded, then wished he hadn’t. The world spun dizzily.

“Okay, we’ll do this nice and easy.” She moved his hand from her waist and he suddenly felt set adrift. But before he could flounder, her voice came to him from somewhere in the vicinity of his knee.

“Just lean forward. That’s right, all the way. Take hold of the mane with your good hand.”

Her tone was soothing, her words mesmerizing. Before he knew it, his chest rested against the horse’s neck. It was a relief to let the tension ebb away, to not worry about burdening her with his weight or inadvertently taking ungentlemanly liberties. If he could just rest here for a few minutes, he should be able to hold himself together for another go at this when she mounted up again.

Ry tried to pry his eyes open, but they weren’t cooperating. He couldn’t seem to get his bearings, and was having trouble telling up from down.

How long had he been out this time? Couldn’t have been too long—he could still feel the heat of the sun beating down on him, scorching him all the way to his core. Where was that cool breeze when he wanted it?

He could feel the movement of the horse, hear the plodding of its hooves. At least he’d managed to stay astride.

It was so hot! This felt like a Texas summer, not fall. “Water.” The word came out as a raspy croak. Right now he’d give every bit of cash in his wallet for a sip of cool liquid.

“Try to hold out a little longer. I promise you can have all the water you want as soon as we reach town.”

Startled, he realized the voice hadn’t come from in front of him. Why hadn’t he realized before now that he was still slumped over the horse’s neck?

He managed to open his eyes enough to see Josie walking beside the horse, one hand on his thigh to steady him.

How long had she been walking? Had she ever intended to remount in the first place? He tried to sit up. “What are you—”

“Settle back down. You’ll get that arm to bleeding again and I’ve run out of bandages.”

Ry fought the returning blackness, tried to protest, but the words came out as garbled nonsense. He shut his eyes, pushing back the molten darkness swirling about him, trying to gather both his strength and his wits, focusing on the feel of her hand on his knee. The heat was sapping what little energy he had left.

He wanted—needed—to convince her to get back on the horse, but his mind couldn’t form the right words.

“That’s it,” she said. “Just concentrate on staying up there. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. Why, we’ll be back to town before you know it.”

Her words turned into a pleasant buzzing, then nothing. For a time—he couldn’t say if it was minutes or hours—he battled the boiling current, surfacing into a sort of smoke-filled awareness before being ruthlessly tugged back under.

He was so hot! He felt like the rich man of the parable, locked in torment, pleading for Abraham to send Lazarus to slake his thirst. Was that it? Was this punishment for his failings?

No, he wasn’t totally lost. Mercy had been granted. Someone was there, someone with calloused but curiously gentle hands, trickling liquid through his parched lips, wiping his brow with a cool cloth, providing relief until the next wave of searing darkness swallowed him again.

At one point Belle drifted in through the haze. He tried to reach for her, tried to apologize for not getting to her sooner. But no matter how hard he fought to reach her, the current tugged at him, held him back, and she stared at him with pleading eyes until the haze swallowed her again.