Free Rekindled by Tamera Alexander Page B

sighed. “Follow my path when you come down the ridge. And mind you, stay to the middle.” With a last look of warning, he shook his head and prodded his mount over the ridge.
    Despite the doubt and grief plaguing her in recent days, the unmistakable sense of God’s presence stoked to life the dying embers of hope inside her. Kathryn recalled the words she’d read that morning. The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
    Following her heart’s lead, she glanced behind her and scanned the snowcapped peaks shrouded in mist and cloud. In two more weeks, if he did not return by then, Larson would have been gone for three months. Winter’s hand was harsh in the Colorado Territory, but she reminded herself of Larson’s knowledge of and respect for this land. Surely he’d found his way through the storm that night. Tempted to trust in that thought alone, Kathryn fixed her hope on heaven instead. Father, I entrust Larson to you. Again .
    Breathing in the earthy scent of cattle and winter and fresh fallen snow, she urged Chestnut forward. As they started over the ridge, Kathryn leaned slightly to the side and searched the plowed mass of snow and earth for Matthew’s exact path. Not spotting it, she reined in sharply. Chestnut whinnied, and the horse’s footing slipped. The animal strained at the bit, edging closer to the right side.
    Kathryn secured the reins, careful not to jerk back. She spoke to Chestnut in low soothing tones, as Larson had taught her, and tried to coerce her back from the edge. A frantic, primitive cry pierced the air just as the sorrel’s legs buckled.
    Kathryn hit the icy slope face down and started to slide. A sharp blow to her ribs forced the air from her lungs. She gasped for breath and grabbed for anything to slow her slippery descent. Frozen scrub brush slipped through her gloved hands. Bits of gravel and rock bit into her cheeks. The further she slid, the less pain she felt.
    Until she finally felt nothing at all.
    A rush of cold air chilled her skin and brought the hovering voices closer. Hands moved over her bodice and down her sides. Kathryn tried to restrain them and cried out at the pain streaking across her chest.
    “Keep still, Mrs. Jennings. Just keep still.”
    Recognizing Matthew Taylor’s voice, she did as he said. She opened her eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight. Another man stood above her. Harley Dunham.
    He slanted a look at Taylor. “I told ya calicos have no place on a cattle drive. You shoulda said no to her comin’, boss.”
    “Stop talkin’, Dunham, and go see to the horse.” Mr. Taylor leaned close. Kathryn could feel his breath on her face. “Mrs. Jennings, can you hear me?”
    She nodded, her mind still humming from the pain that exploded in her chest when she moved.
    “Don’t move, okay?”
    “Don’t worry,” she whispered, trying to manage a smile. It hurt even to breathe.
    “I think you may have cracked a rib or two.” Taylor bit his lower lip.
    A shot sounded, and Kathryn tensed. Chestnut . Tears burned her eyes and her throat ached.
    Taylor jerked off his hat and forked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jennings. Looks like this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I never should have said yes,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. He searched her face. “We’re still at least three hours away from town. Do you think you can ride?”
    She nodded, wondering if she could bear the pain.
    “It’s just like when I saw that white owl, boss.” Dunham came back into view, shouldering his rifle. “I tell ya, a woman runnin’ things is just bad luck.”
    Taylor’s jaw clenched tight. He stood and grabbed Dunham by the shirt. “Go mount up. Mrs. Jennings will ride point with me. You take the drag and follow behind.”
    Dunham strode off, mumbling something beneath his breath.
    Kathryn stared into the cloudless, ethereal blue above and wished for only