The Wagon Leader’s Love on the Trail (Preview)

Prologue

Rain beat down in hard sheets as she rode, her fingers stiff around the reins. Thunder cracked overhead, too close, shaking the ground beneath the horse’s hooves. She kept her eyes on the man ahead of her, following the darker shape of his coat through the trees. They were going fast, but was it fast enough? She urged her mare to try a little harder, to speed up just a bit.

How long did they have until they were caught up to, and what would happen if they were caught?

She shuddered. She knew what would happen; she had seen it before. She bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood. The rain was cold on her face, hiding her tears.

The rider ahead of her slowed suddenly and raised a hand. When she drew alongside him, he leaned close so his voice wouldn’t carry.

“We can’t stay mounted,” he said. “The horses are too noisy, even in this rain.”

She noticed that the rain wasn’t falling as hard as it had been before. She never thought she would wish for more of a storm, and yet, she never thought she’d be running like this.

Her stomach tightened, and she nodded. They slid from the saddles and led the horses a short distance away, to a grove of trees, before leaving them behind. She patted her mare’s neck, making sure she was secure. They’d come back later for the horses, or maybe, the horses would be found.

Rain soaked through her shawl, touching every inch of her skin and sending shivers through her body. Her boots sank into the mud with every step, and branches clawed at her sleeves as they trod deeper into the forest. The dark was their cover, and just maybe it could keep them safe long enough to get away, to escape for good.

Her breathing came in ragged gulps, and she tried to calm it along with her thundering heart.

Focus

She placed her feet where the man’s feet went, as the storm raged on.

A sound filtered through the chaos and the rain.

Hoofbeats.

She drew in a sharp breath and put her hand to her mouth to cover up a whimper. They were coming, and they were close.

She stumbled, the realization pulling at her concentration. The man glanced back at her, his face grim in the moonlight. Rivulets of water made their way over his nose, dripping down.

The sound grew clearer, closer. Riders. More than one. She should have guessed everyone would come. They wouldn’t stop looking until she was found, until they both were.

They were being hunted.

The man stopped abruptly, reaching for her. She gave him her hand, and he squeezed it comfortingly.

“We can’t both make it. They’re too close,” he said. Emotions swam in his eyes: protectiveness, determination. “You go on. I’ll draw them off.” His whisper was urgent, but she shook her head.

“I can’t go without you. You said we’d do this together.”

“We did it together.” A smile tugged at his lips, and his eyes found hers, filling her with reassurance she shouldn’t be feeling. “I’ll find you. Don’t worry about me, nothing is going to happen.”

She shook her head. “No …” The word broke off as she saw his expression. He was not going to change his mind.

“Please. Go.”  There was no fear in it, only a decision. He pressed something into her hand, then closed her fingers around it. “Don’t forget the type of person you are: a fighter, you don’t give up, no matter what happens, all right? What you’re doing doesn’t make you a bad sister, it doesn’t make you a traitor, it means you’re choosing a different path.” He smiled, that smile that made her feel safe. When would she feel that again?

“We can go back …” She could explain it was one big mistake…

“There’s no time.” He shook his head. “Follow the river. Don’t look back.”

Her chest ached as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her just as tightly, if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said against his shoulder. “Be careful.”

He didn’t answer. He only pointed through the trees, where the sound of rushing water cut faintly through the storm. “Go. Run.”

She turned and ran. Her lungs burned from the effort, and she kept stumbling, her boots catching on brambles and branches. What would he do? How would he explain where she’d gone?

A sick feeling took hold of her stomach. Maybe she should have stayed, accepted her fate, her duty, the life into which she’d been born.

Branches struck her face and arms as she pushed through the dark, her breath ragged, her boots slipping on wet ground. She didn’t know where she was going, but she continued on toward the sound of the river like a beacon.

The river had to be close. She could hear it now, louder than the rain. Water would hide her sound. The trees along the banks gave her somewhere to disappear.

If she could reach it, maybe she could vanish into the storm.

She kept going, half-running, half-sliding through the trees. Roots caught her boots, rocks shifted beneath her feet, but she didn’t slow. The river was just ahead.

Light split the sky.

The thunder came at once, so loud it stole her breath. She cried out as it lit up the sky. She pitched forward and stumbled, the ground vanishing beneath her as the bank gave way. Mud slicked under her hands as she tried to catch herself.

Cold water closed over her legs, her waist, then everything lurched. She’d found the river; she was inside the river.

She choked as water rushed into her mouth and lungs. She should call for help, scream for someone, even if it was them.

But then it would all be for nothing … her moment of indecision was too much. She knew how to swim, but she was not prepared to be dragged down by her dress and her boots as the river took a turn and tumbled her around. Her head was plunged under water, blackness blotting out her sight. She thrashed, reaching for anything that could steady her, that she could use to pull herself back to shore.

A thud rocked her body, and pain split her skull. She tried to breathe, but with her head under water, her lungs revolted, and her body jerked. This was how she would die, in the river, alone, and out of options.

She fought for consciousness, pushing for life. She had to survive; she had to make it. There had been so much work to free her. So much sacrificed. 

She spluttered as she was hit with water again, struggling to breathe. The river was carrying her, far away from them, far away from him. If she survived, maybe it would take her somewhere safer, for a second chance, but it was too late. She slipped away, into darkness, as her body relaxed to the will of the water.

Chapter One

Nathaniel Cole frowned as he looked up at the sky. It was dark and gray, large clouds gathering in the sky, heavy with rain. A storm was rolling in, and a bad one at that. The frontier was untamed and complicated, and it was unpredictable. It was impossible to know whether it would be stormy or fine, and when you were caught by a storm, it could have devastating effects if you were unprepared. On the Oregon Trail, being caught by wild weather was even more risky. They’d left Missouri in April, and they were already halfway through May. They still had at least two weeks, but more likely six of rain, mud, and swollen rivers. He knew it was hard for people to be patient in arriving at their new homes. But he’d made it clear the trip would take four to five months, and it would be late September before they got to Oregon Territory. 

“Are we stopping for the evening?” Abram asked, joining him and pulling him from his musings. Abram, his right-hand man, was one of the most perceptive people Nathaniel had worked with, and it was one of the reasons he’d chosen him for the job.

“Yes. We need to get everyone ready for the storm. It’s already picking up, and it’s going to be a bad one. It’s better to lose some time than some of the animals, or a couple of lives.” Nathaniel gripped his horse’s reins tightly and led them off to the side of the trail, the wagon still hitched to his team.

Abram followed along as the wind started to pick up. Lightning cracked in the distance.

“You’re right, it does look bad.”

“Hmm.” Nathaniel frowned. “Did the scouts come back with anything? Did they see anything suspicious?” There were two scouts in front and back of the wagon train at all times, looking for anything suspicious. Gangs that might be following them, or intending to chase them. He couldn’t be too careful.

Things weren’t like they were before. He couldn’t just trust things would be okay. Three years ago, he’d learned that in the worst way. The thought of it sent a sharp pain through his chest.

It was one of the only feelings he felt anymore. The rest of him was numb. He had the faking normal down pretty well, and most people didn’t notice that he kept to himself, never smiled, laughed, or talked with others. Everyone but Abram was fooled, anyway. Abram seemed determined to fix whatever was plaguing him, even though Nathaniel had made it clear he shouldn’t bother.

“No. They were careful, like you said, and just got back a few minutes ago after they saw my signal that we were stopping. I don’t think we’ll run into any trouble on this trip. It’s been uneventful so far.”

“Yes. Let’s keep it that way.” The first raindrops fell, hitting Nathaniel’s cheek, and he shook his head at the annoyance of the cold droplet. “Have everyone prepare for a big storm. I think this will be the worst thing we’ve seen on this trip so far.

He didn’t wait to see if Abram understood the severity. He trusted him. Instead, he veered off, heading for the nearest wagons. He had a feeling this storm was going to be a lot worse than anything they’d dealt with recently.

He called to Mr. Smith, the first man who came into view. “Smith! Storm’s coming, I think it’s going to be a bad one. Make sure your animals are with the others, and the wagon is ready.” 

Mr. Smith nodded, throwing a worried glance toward the darkening sky.

“Thank you, Nathaniel. We’ll be ready.”

Nathaniel nodded, then moved on to the next. One after another, he warned each family. He may not like the fact that he was guiding a wagon train again, but he took it seriously. He considered every wagon, as well as its occupants, to be his personal responsibility. He’d deliver them personally out west. He wasn’t about to lose anyone from his wagon train. The bitter taste in his mouth hit his senses. He’d previously lost two people while on a wagon train. His wife and child. Chills swept over his skin as he pushed the feeling back. He’d gotten good at numbing everything, trying to keep their memory from halting his motions of living.

Men called out to one another as the first real gusts of wind tore through the camp. Abram was still reaching the last wagons, and they were all working on encircling the animals. The storm was moving faster than even he had anticipated. Canvas snapped, and wagons creaked as people hurried to secure what they could. Nathaniel grabbed a rope and helped pull a cover tight, knotting it with quick, practiced movements.

Its owner acknowledged him with a grateful nod, and he was moving on to the next. If there was one thing good about being the leader of the wagon train, it was the amount of responsibility. He liked having so much going on, so much to worry about. He was always busy, and keeping busy kept him from having too much time to think.

As he turned the corner around one of the wagons, he spotted Lottie. She was one of the youngest children on the wagon train, and he always made a point of taking a moment to check in on them and make sure they were safe. Lottie and Millie were twins, and despite their parents being one of the wealthiest families on the train, they were the sweetest children he’d ever met. Then again, he was long-standing friends with their parents, so perhaps that colored his view of them.

She stood beside her family’s wagon, completely unconcerned, her doll dangling from one arm as she pressed its cloth face against her cheek. There was no sign of Millie. She was the quieter of the two and liked to be in the wagon with her paper dolls or looking through her mother’s books. The wind tugged Lottie’s dress, rain already spotting the ground around her. She twirled, enjoying each drop, as if she thought it were a game. Her parents were back at the wagon, doing their best to scramble their belongings into a safe place for the storm. He knew that the children liked to play. They spent half their day or more chasing each other or walking by the wagons. 

“Lottie,” he called out, jogging the distance between them. “You have to get inside.” He scooped her up, holding her against his chest. She was five years old earlier that month, and despite protests, her parents had insisted that he join them for dinner. He’d made a deal about not wanting to be there for a birthday, even if it was for Lottie and Millie, but he’d still slipped her and Millie a carved whistle for gifts.

She looked up at him, startled, her big blue eyes filled with sudden caution.

“I like the rain,” she said, as he carried her back toward her wagon.

“I know, child, but you can’t be out in this rain, it’s going to be a bad rain, and you’d get very, very cold.” He touched her nose, and she giggled as he placed her down beside her wagon, just as her mother spotted them. 

“Nathaniel, thank you. I was wondering where she’d gone.” Adelaide came over, wrapping Lottie up in a protective hug.

“No problem. Tell Benjamin this storm isn’t like any other. We have to be extra careful.” He held her gaze, spotting the touch of worry in her features. She was wondering whether anything nasty would occur during the storm.

“It will be fine, as long as we’re cautious.” He injected as much confidence into his tone as he could. Benjamin and Adelaide were the reason he had this job to begin with. They were afraid of who might try to pursue them while traveling west.

“I have to check on everyone else, but I’ll circle back.”

Adelaide smiled at him, waving as he hurried off.

He headed toward the cook wagon, rain picking up as he walked. By the time he reached it, Horace Bell was already there, tying down the last of the supplies with a grim sort of efficiency. He was the wagon train’s official cook, making meals for Nathaniel, the scouts, Abram, and others who worked to keep things moving safely and efficiently.

“You ready for the storm?”

“All set,” Horace said, not looking up. “Nothing’s going anywhere.” He tugged on another rope as if to drive home his point. Nathaniel believed him. Horace was always ready for anything.

“Good,” Nathaniel replied. Keep an eye on everyone close to you, all right? “We’ll have to ride this one out together.”

Horace nodded grimly. The rain was starting to make its way through Nathaniel’s coat and getting to his skin, making Nathaniel suppress a shiver. He gritted his teeth. The cold was nothing. In fact, he appreciated the discomfort, the faint pain he felt at the prickling on his skin.

It took his focus and attention and gave him something with which to ground himself.

The storm decided to pick up pace all at once. Rain came down in sheets, the wind driving it sideways as the sky cracked open overhead. Nathaniel hurried through the camp, checking wagons, counting heads, and steadying frightened animals.

Satisfied with the level of preparedness, he made his way back to his own wagon, slipping inside. He was soaked, and it took him several long moments to pull off his soaked boots and change clothes. He positioned himself near the front of the wagon so he could still watch the wagon train through the rain.

He couldn’t see everyone, but he could see a good chunk of it, and if by some strange coincidence, someone did decide to do something in the storm, he’d be ready, and he would see.

He pulled on a dry coat and stared out into the bleak weather, trying to find something with which to occupy himself. Stuck in the storm, with nothing to occupy his hands, his thoughts betrayed him, slipping backward to a different storm, a different night. To promises he’d made and failed to keep.

The ache in his chest sharpened.

Thunder split the air, close enough to make him flinch but far enough away that it wasn’t near the wagon train. It looked like it was near the river, in the woods.

A sound at the back of the wagon startled him. He turned halfway to find Abram ducking inside the back, dripping water on the floor. He yanked off his soaking coat and made his way to the front, plopping down across from Nathaniel.

Nathaniel could see he was actually mostly dry.

Abram grinned.

“I changed, then made a run for it, hence the almost dry clothes. Hope you don’t mind me spending the night because I can’t make it back in this downpour.”

Nathaniel shook his head, motioning to the wagon.

“Make yourself at home.”

To anyone else, he might have sounded angry, but Abram just chuckled.

“You think we’ll see anything tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Nathaniel tried to push away the feelings of unease. He lived with them every day, regardless of whether it looked like they would have trouble. “But if we do, we’ll be ready, storm or not.”

Abram nodded grimly.

“We can take turns watching tonight and getting some sleep.” Abram leaned against the side of the wagon, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t I take the first watch?”

“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m fine keeping watch all night.” Nathaniel didn’t say that he barely slept anyway, so it wasn’t much of a loss, but Abram was already shaking his head.

“Nonsense. You’re holding this whole wagon train together, and without you, they’d been scrambling for direction. You need your sleep. No offense, but you get kind of grumpy when you don’t.”

Nathaniel glowered. His friend wasn’t completely wrong. When he went two or three nights with no sleep, it wasn’t good. He struggled to keep up his normal upbeat attitude. He almost smiled at the ludicrous nature of that thought in itself.

“How about I take my first watch then?” Nathaniel suggested.

Abram grinned.

“Absolutely not. We both know that I’m a heavy sleeper, and you wouldn’t wake me up, so you’d get your way after all. I’m taking my first watch, and I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I know you won’t sleep long.” Abram’s tone deepened in severity with the last words.

Nathaniel was taken by surprise that Abram knew that. Instead of arguing and risking revealing more than he intended, he nodded solemnly.

“You wake me up if anything happens.”

“You know I will.” Abram shook his head as if he were annoyed that Nathaniel would even think that he wouldn’t wake him.

Nathaniel grabbed his blanket and bedroll and spread them out against the side of the wagon. He stared up at the wagon cover as weariness set into his bones. It had been so long since he’d had a full night’s sleep. The night before last, he’d made it halfway through the night.

Sometimes, he wished that he really could just go forever without sleeping. It would certainly make things easier, especially when leaving the nightmares behind.

I’m never going to sleep in this.

He stared up angrily at the wagon cover, noting the little plinks of rain above.

The next thing he knew, he was jerking awake. The noise had changed, and he had the odd feeling of being rested. That was new. He sat straight up, not hiding his surprise.

Abram turned toward him from the top of the wagon, the same amused, joking smile on his face as before Nathaniel had fallen asleep. 

“What’s going on?” Nathaniel asked, noting an odd quiet in the air. The rain had almost stopped, and just a drizzle persisted.

“Nothing. Guess you were more tired than you thought.” Abram stretched his hands above his head and stood halfway up, changing places with Nathaniel. “Wake me up if you need anything,” he said quickly, before lying down and turning toward the side of the wagon.

It wasn’t until Nathaniel was at the front of the wagon that he realized the night was almost over. The position of the moon gave it away. He’d slept much longer than he intended; in fact, he’d almost slept through the night.

He shook his head, sending a glare in Abram’s direction, but he couldn’t be too mad. Abram was a good friend and a good second-hand man. Between them, they were a good team, and of everyone else who had decided to give him space and forget that he had once been a normal person, with hopes, love, and dreams, Abram was one friend who stuck by his side no matter what.

Nathaniel made himself comfortable and stared out into the night. They’d made it through the storm. Hopefully, it was the last one they’d encounter on their way out west.

Chapter Two

The next morning, Nathaniel and Abram checked each wagon that was their responsibility. Nathaniel didn’t think anyone was hurt, but even so, he had to be sure. He wasn’t satisfied until he’d spoken with every family traveling.

Only then did he get the water containers from his wagon.

“I’m going down to the river to fill up before we head out. You coming?” he asked Abram.

“Sure. I’m running low on water, too. We should take advantage of being close to the river.”

Nathaniel led the way, slogging through the mud. It weighed on his body, tugging at his boots, as if the ground wanted to swallow him whole. It made the going slow. 

“We can check the status of the trail while we’re at it, and see if there’s a good place to cross now, or we’ll have to wait another two days till we get to the second crossing, where it’s shallow enough.” Nathaniel was speaking to himself more than Abram.

Abram nodded, and they headed downstream.

The path was a mess. Fallen trees blocked parts of the bank, and debris lay scattered everywhere: branches, broken crates, things carried far from where they belonged. The river itself ran fast and dark, swollen well beyond its usual bounds. He’d been right that the storm was worse than normal. The lightning alone had made it a little terrifying.

“What’s that?” Abram asked as they made their way down the bank.

Nathaniel followed his gaze.

Something lay near the edge of the water, half caught in reeds. Maybe an animal. He spotted the color yellow, like corn husks, wrapped up in the weeds.

“Probably nothing, maybe an animal got caught up in the river. Its currents are too much for the strongest swimmer during a storm.” He frowned as they made their way closer, and his stomach clenched.

It wasn’t animal hair, but a human’s hair. He quickened his pace, letting his containers drop as he realized what, or who, was on the bank of the river. A woman’s body lay there in the rushes, motionless, one arm still in the river. The water lapped at her, gently pulsing around her, as if it were claiming responsibility for depositing her there.

Panic rose in Nathaniel’s body. It was a reaction so fast and so visceral that it caught him off guard. How had she gotten there?

He scrambled, his boots slipping in the mud as he rushed to get to her. Abram was right on his heels.

“What on earth …” Abram’s exclamation was soft, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Nathaniel reached her first. He took a half second to drink everything in, to examine every bit of the scene before him. She was young, younger than him, that was for sure. Her skin was weathered, light brown, but more as if she’d been in the sun a lot rather than being naturally colored. Her hair was light up close, bleached out from the sun, a light blonde that he was certain would shine like gold when dry. If it weren’t matted against her face and neck.

He reached toward her, fighting the panic rising in his chest. Another lifeless woman, her body in his arms, looking up at him with vacant eyes, filled his mind, and his throat threatened to close. It had been so long since he’d lost control, unable to hold it all at bay, but seeing this woman, lying like that … His fingers pressed lightly at her neck, searching.

Nothing. He couldn’t give up. He moved them around, pressing, pushing, where was it?

A pulse, faint but there.

Images of his wife bombarded him. There was nothing as he’d pressed to feel a pulse under her skin. Their unborn child was lost before he’d met the babe. He blinked quickly. It had been years ago, and yet, it felt fresh, as if only a couple of days ago they’d shared jokes and laughed over breakfast. 

He drew in a sharp breath, pulling himself back to the situation in front of him.

“She’s alive,” his words trembled as Abram came close to him, joining him beside the woman’s unconscious body. Her lips were turning a light blue, and her dress was tattered and ripped. One of her boots was still on her socked foot, and the other was missing, leaving her second foot bare to the elements. Blood was crusted on her leg and ankle. She was hurt. It was a miracle there was any sign of life, considering it looked as if she’d been dragged by the river, and who knew for how long?

Abram let out a breath. “She’s in bad shape. What should we do?”

“We take her back to camp. I don’t know of anyone else out in these parts. I’ve traveled through here, and I’d remember a settlement. For now, we take her back with us. If she wakes up, she can tell us where she’s from.” He spoke softly, his normal tone disappearing with the woman. There was no telling whether she’d even survive.

Nathaniel slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her carefully out of the water. She didn’t stir. She was much lighter than he thought, barely weighing anything. Water seeped through his shirt, sending a chill through him at her proximity. Her skin was cold and clammy, no sign that she was still alive except for that little pulse he’d felt.

He focused on that, counting out how it had felt, as if reassuring himself that she really was alive and he hadn’t imagined it.

He was vaguely aware of Abram gathering up their water containers and trailing behind him. He quickened his pace, trying to hurry back to the wagon train, but at the same time, it wasn’t possible to move too quickly. The muddy river and state of the ground held him back. 

He studied her face as they went. She had delicate features, plump lips that would normally be pink, instead of blue. Long lashes framed her eyelids.

Nathaniel tried to calm his racing heart. Maybe he could save her; she could still wake up. She wasn’t gone, not for good, not yet. The fifteen-minute walk back toward camp seemed to take forever. Every time he was faced with a situation where someone depended on him, where life hung in the balance, the pressure bore down on him like a thousand pounds. Before losing his wife, he’d never lost anyone on his treks down the Oregon Trail. He was sought out for his record of safely getting families to their destination. He’d been proud enough to allow his family to travel with them, thinking that if he could protect so many strangers, his own wife would be safe at his side. 

Where the woman’s body was pressed against his, he could feel her warming up slightly. He also noticed the blood on the back of her hair, matting her hair, and sticking to his arm.

She’d been hit on the head. Probably during her time in the river. It wouldn’t surprise him. Once, he’d been caught in a current in a river during a rainstorm. Even after it stopped raining, he barely escaped the water’s icy clutches with his life. It was one of the moments he’d been sure would be his last.

Anyone who was a good swimmer assumed that it was possible to outswim a current, but sometimes, it was close to impossible. In fact, the best way to survive was to try to stay above the water while the current carried you wherever it wanted to go. Then, when you arrived, you could try to find a way to get out of it.

He frowned. She hadn’t stood a chance with the storm from the night before. Especially if she’d fallen into the river after dark. It would have been so hard to see. Not to mention the rain and the lightning. What was a young woman like her doing out by the river at night? He couldn’t think of a good explanation.

Every possibility seemed like a bad one. He tried to think of how she could have got there. The nearest towns were several days away. He knew that another wagon train had gone through those parts recently. Maybe she had gotten lost from one of those groups and wandered off. She could have been trying to get back to her group, making her way through the woods, and then the storm started.

It made enough sense, but he wouldn’t get any answers until she awoke and he asked her. Finally, the wagons came into view. He quickened his pace yet again, not caring as much about jostling her as he wanted to get her back to safety, get her warmed up, and get her some medical attention.

There was no doctor with the wagon train. The closest thing they had was Margaret, Edmund’s wife. She’d worked as a nurse once, but it hadn’t been for long, and it wasn’t in the capacity of a doctor. It would have to do. Right then, it looked like the woman could use any help she could get. Instead of heading to his own wagon, he veered off toward Margaret and Edmund’s wagon. The couple didn’t have any children of their own. Maybe they could also give the woman a place to stay for a short time. Most of the travelers had full wagons. He traveled alone, despite bringing a wagon, but having the woman stay with him wasn’t a good idea. Not that it was time to even think about that. He didn’t even know if she’d survive.

Margaret was stirring something hot over the fire as he approached. The sun hadn’t been up for a few minutes, so he was certain she was wondering what he was doing there, much less with someone in his arms. Her eyes widened as he approached. 

The woman in his arms felt heavier than he knew she was. Was she dead? Had he lost her in his trek back to camp?

“Nathaniel, what happened?” Margaret was his age and treated him the way he thought a sister might have. Her eyes widened as she spotted the limp young woman in his arms, and her hands shook as she approached. Margaret always kept an eye out for everyone around her and never turned down an opportunity to help. 

Nathaniel knew that anyone else might see the danger first, the reasons they shouldn’t help the woman from the river, but Margaret would help first and ask questions later.

“I don’t know.” He was surprised to hear so much emotion in his own voice. He never showed weakness, especially in front of those who depended on him for protection. “I found her by the river. Something must have happened to her. I found a pulse, but now … I don’t know what to do. Can you help me?” He hated how weak he sounded, and yet, Margaret didn’t seem to notice. 

Margaret rushed him forward, toward the wagon, and he followed. She lowered the back of the wagon and pulled out a quilt, laying it across the floor. Her expression held no panic, only sure movements. She patted the quilt confidently. 

“Put her here, quickly now.”  

Nathaniel did as he was told, trying to keep his heart from racing straight out of his chest. She had to be all right. There was a chance she could survive. 

“Is she …” Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to say it, as he watched Margaret examine her.

“I can feel her heart beating. She’s still alive, but it’s hard to tell if she’ll be all right. She is going to need a lot of care.” Margaret sounded so sure of herself, and her words set him at ease. She would help him, and hopefully, they weren’t too late to save the strange woman. Relief pulsed through him. He wasn’t sure he could go through letting her down, even if he didn’t have a clue who she was.