Fort Nez Perce October 1843
Exhausted, footsore and chilled to the bone from a recent rainstorm, Rachel Hewitt leaned against her family’s covered wagon. As she looked out over the organized chaos, one thought emerged. Nearly there.
At long last, the wagon train had reached the final leg of what had turned out to be an arduous, five-month trek across the Oregon Trail.
Despite the hardships along the way, spirits were high among Rachel’s fellow emigrants. A brand-new life awaited in Oregon City, with the promise of fertile soil, large land grants. Endless possibilities awaited. And yet...
A sense of quiet despair crept into her usual optimism.
Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she traced her fingertip along the edges of a wooden slat. Familiar sounds filled her ears. Hammers striking iron. Saws carving through wood. The creak of wagon wheels and children’s laughter and the bleating of worn-out animals.
Soft footsteps approached from behind her. Rachel moved to the other side of the wagon. She didn’t especially want to speak with anyone right now.
Rachel’s family, along with many others, had made the decision to build rafts or buy canoes rather than risk the treacherous land route or abandon their belongings. It had seemed the wisest course of action. But as she eyed the rushing waters swollen from the recent storm, she wondered if the worst was yet to come.
The cold wind sweeping off the Cascade Range carried the scent of winter over the land. Time was running short. Little room for mistakes or wrong turns.
Rachel looked around her once again. This time, all she saw was the solitary figure standing on the riverbank.
Tristan McCullough. The handsome, widowed sheriff of Oregon City had joined their wagon train weeks ago. He’d deftly guided their weary group through the treacherous Blue Mountains, past The Dalles and on to Fort Nez Perce.
His strength of character had made an impression on everyone, including Rachel. He was the embodiment of masculine power and something far more troubling. Something her mind shied away from, refusing to acknowledge.
The sun peeked out from a seam in the clouds and wrapped Tristan in a thin, golden beam, turning his sun-kissed hair a burnished copper. And his eyes, those intelligent, compelling eyes were probably a full shade lighter now, a cool moss green against his tanned skin.
A shiver passed through her as she watched Tristan eye the rushing waters with a concerned expression.
Was he contemplating another route to Oregon City? Not likely. The only other route was along the sandy, narrow shoreline. But large boulders and steep cliffs, some rising over a hundred feet above the river, would have to be scaled or gone around.
While fraught with its own set of dangers, the Columbia River was still their best option. The one they would take.
Unless Tristan said otherwise. Unless—
“Rachel, what’s wrong?” Her sister’s soft, lilting voice fell over her. “You’re frowning.”
Rachel bit back a sigh. Of course the ever-vigilant, fundamentally caring Emma would seek her out.
“I hadn’t realized I was frowning.” She kept her voice even and her gaze averted. “I was merely lost in thought. Nothing to worry yourself over.”
“If you say so.”
Something in her sister’s voice had her looking up. A mistake. Rachel felt her smile slip the moment her eyes connected with Emma’s.
Even with her brows drawn together in worry, her sister exuded happiness. Emma had always been strikingly beautiful, with her golden brown hair and vivid blue eyes. But now that she’d fallen in love with Nathan Reed, she was even more so.
The ex-fur trader and longtime loner brought out the best in Emma. Her confidence grew with each passing day, her innate shyness dissipating with every hour she spent in Nathan’s company.
Rachel was pleased for her sister. She was. But now that Emma and their brother Ben had both found love on the Oregon Trail, Rachel was feeling a tad lost. For the first time in her life she didn’t have a clear sense of belonging.
At least she knew what to expect in her immediate future. Once the wagon train arrived in Oregon City she would take over the care of their oldest brother’s home. Surely Grayson, who’d arrived in Oregon Country nearly two years ahead of them, would welcome her help.
What if he didn’t?
“You’re frowning again.”
Rachel pulled in a deep breath. “I was thinking about Grayson.”
“What about him?”
“I...just hope he still needs me to take over his household duties when we finally arrive.”
But what if he didn’t? she wondered again. She couldn’t bear the idea of being useless in her own brother’s home, or worse, find herself a burden to him.
“Of course he’ll need your help,” Emma said. “That’s been the plan all along.”
Rachel gave a noncommittal nod, then promptly changed the subject. “I’d better get back to work. We have a lot to do before we enter the river.”
A vision flashed of their belongings stacked from floor to canvas ceiling inside their wagon. They’d unloaded most of the items already, but there was still more. Several other tasks needed accomplishing, tasks that must be complete before the men finished building their raft. She shouldn’t be wasting time feeling sorry for herself.
She started toward the back of the wagon.
Emma reached for her. Not wanting to prolong their conversation any more than necessary, Rachel sidestepped the move as casually as possible. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, at least until she could manage a shift to a happier mood.
“You’re sure that’s the only thing on your mind?” Emma’s hand fell away. “You’re not worried about the river crossing?”
“Of course not.” She lifted her chin to punctuate her point. “I trust all will go according to plan.”
Before she could say more, a group of young children rushed past them, sized small to smallest. Their unrestrained laughter rang out as they tossed a well-worn ball between them. Rachel marveled at their capacity to find joy in the moment, in their ability to take full advantage of this short respite.
She used to recover from hardships that quickly. She used to take setbacks in stride. But her current situation proved far more difficult. For the first time in her nearly twenty years of life, Rachel was facing a solitary future. With no clear direction. No real purpose.
No one to care for but herself.
Though the youngest in the family, she’d seen to her siblings’ needs through the years. After Grayson left Missouri, Ben had worked their small ranch and Emma had nursed their father until he died. Rachel had run the household.
When Grayson sent a letter encouraging them to join him in Oregon Country, Rachel and her siblings had embarked on this journey as a family. Their individual roles had been clearly defined, their stories tightly woven together.
But now, Emma and Ben each had someone else in their lives. Someone they loved and who loved them in return. Rachel’s future was no longer linked with that of her siblings.
Not that she begrudged