Page 6 of Heart of the Storm (Hearts Over Wyoming #1)

Six

Tessa gazed across the valley toward the distant mountains that rose like the jagged teeth of a mountain lion into the sky. Unlike all the other mountain ranges she’d seen, there were no gently-rising foothills, at least not from where she stood. These particular mountains just seemed to emerge straight out of the earth toward the heavens.

“Les Trois Tetons,” one of the French fur trappers her brigade had encountered weeks ago had said. He’d described exactly what she now saw looming in the distance.

“When you see them, you will know you are almost to your destination.” The Frenchman had shot her a sharp, almost foreboding look. “But you must be careful, mademoiselle. There has been talk among men who have recently been in the area of trouble with the Indians.”

“Thank you for the warning, but we have to press on,” Tessa had said. “We’ll face any trouble with the tribes as it arises. For now, we have to reach our destination.”

Pierre’s Hole. That was the destination. The area where the mountain men were gathering this summer to trade goods and exchange stories. The place where she would prove that all the hardships of the last few months that she and her men had endured had been worth it.

The Green River meandered along the valley that stretched before her, creating a sense of peace and tranquility, yet it had been a far cry from it. The cool mountain breeze caressed her cheeks. Tessa took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and lifted her head. Strands of her hair that refused to remain confined in her braid and under her hat, tickling her face.

The soft whistling sound of the wind as it whipped through the tall grasses sounded louder with her eyes closed. Everything sounded louder, but also more tranquil.

When she opened her eyes again, the landscape was a reminder that they were still days from their destination, and this wasn’t the time to relax or let her guard down.

Nearly three months had passed since she’d sat on her father’s sick bed and boldly proclaimed that she would lead their trappers into the mountains. After he’d stopped laughing, she’d told him of her even bolder plan to bring wagons into the wilderness. She’d stood firm in the face of his skepticism.

“Wagons? Are you out of your mind, girl?” he’d argued. “No one’s ever taken wagons that far into the wilderness. It’s impossible.”

Tessa had crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not impossible. I’ve heard talk by some men about a pass over the mountains where wagons can get through. The man I overheard talking about it called it South Pass. He mentioned the idea of wagons, but to my knowledge, it was only an idea. I want to do it before any of the other fur companies do.”

Father had grumbled, shifting uncomfortably on his bed. No doubt he’d been in an even worse mood since he was forced to lie in bed as he listened to her bold vision for their fur company. He might have been more open to the idea if he could have led the brigade himself.

“You’re in no condition to head into the wilderness, but if I don’t go, the company might not exist this time next year,” she’d reminded him. “With or without wagons.”

She’d given him no choice. Being bed-ridden, he’d reluctantly conceded. “The men aren’t going to take kindly to a woman. You’d better have your wits about you, girl,” he’d finally grumbled. “This is foolish, and we’re probably not going to have a fur company left after this season.”

“Well then, at this point we have nothing to lose, do we?” she’d said, her voice rising along with her anger that her own father seemed to have so little confidence in her.

She’d stood and glared down at him, a helpless man lying on a cot in the doctor’s house. “Most of the men who’ve hired back on for this season know me. They respect me, and the new ones will get to know and respect me, too.”

Father had stared up at her for a long time. Finally, he’d relented, “ Just remember everything I taught you.”

Smiling, she’d left the room. While she’d never actually gone into the wilderness with her father, he had taught her how to shoot and track during the few months out of the year when he’d been home. He’d done so reluctantly, but even as a child she’d persisted and pestered him, and he’d soon come to realize that she was a quick learner and good with a gun. He’d never coddled her or treated her like some delicate flower. Whenever she failed, he’d simply told her to lick her wounds, get back on her feet, and try again. If nothing else, his teachings had taught her to stand up for herself, especially against unruly men.

This journey had certainly taught her a great deal more than those few hunting excursions with her father, but his early lessons had stayed with her. She hadn’t quit, even under the most arduous circumstances. There had been treacherous river crossings, dealing with harsh elements and wilderness, wild animals, and even some Indian encounters that thankfully had ended peacefully when she’d offered goods to trade.

She’d come so far, and their destination was so close. Both the unforgiving land and the men under her authority had tested her resolve on many occasions, but over the long and grueling weeks, she’d earned their respect.

Four trappers who had signed on with the Missouri River Fur Company had quit on the spot when she’d walked into camp and announced she was leading the brigade into the wilderness. A few others had looked at each other nervously, clearly at a loss for words or thoughts. Some had laughed outright, and still others had tried to talk her out of it, but soon realized she wasn’t going to be swayed.

“All the other companies already have their men hired. You won’t have much luck finding another brigade to join, so you may as well stick with me,” she’d said, standing firm and looking each of the men in the eye. “But if you decide to join me, I want to be clear that I will be respected like any other brigade leader. I won’t stand for disrespect or slackers, is that understood?”

The twenty three men who’d remained in camp had murmured and finally nodded, some shaking their heads in disbelief, no doubt wondering if they were making a big mistake by agreeing to let a woman lead them into dangerous territory.

Tessa took in a deep breath. The weeks that had followed certainly hadn’t been easy. Admittedly, she was as much of a greenhorn as some of the young men she’d hired, and often relied heavily on Ike Higgins, one of the more seasoned mountain men who’d been with her father for a number of years. Although their opinions often clashed, Tessa was grateful for Ike’s presence and advice, and for dealing with the men when they’d gotten too rowdy or out of line. He deserved a sizeable bonus once they were back in St. Louis.

She turned away from the scenic valley in front of her to glance over her shoulder. She’d ridden ahead of the men to have a few minutes to herself, but her time of solitude was over. It was time to get back to the task at hand, which was to get the wagons over this incline and across the valley.

A short distance behind her, the four wagons creaked under heavy loads of supplies. The horses snorted and strained in their harnesses as they labored over the hard ground after the treacherous fording of the Green River.

They’d successfully crossed the river even though one of the wagons had nearly been swept away when the horses had lost their footing on the slick river rocks. Fording the river had delayed them for several hours, and evening was fast approaching. Everyone – including the riders and the men driving the wagons – looked strained, and their energy was low. After weeks of grueling terrain, Tessa felt the same, but she certainly wasn’t going to show it in front of the men.

“Damn, that was a close call,” Shaky Johnson called out, wiping sweat from his brow as he rode ahead of the wagons to reach Tessa. He was the youngest member of the brigade, and his hands always shook when he was excited. His real name was Clint, but everyone called him Shaky.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed on him as he approached. “This wasn’t our first water crossing, and it certainly won’t be our last. I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

Shaky stared at her with a perplexed expression. “We’re all tired, Miss Tessa. Didn’t mean to be complaining about it. I’m just glad we didn’t lose that wagon.”

Tessa nodded and gave a weak smile. She sighed. “I know you’re tired.” Looking up at the other approaching riders, she raised her voice so all could hear. “You’ve all done a great job getting the wagons across the river. Despite the unforeseen mishap, we’re all safe, and none of our supplies or trade goods have been lost, and it’s all due to your unwavering efforts.” She nudged her chin toward the mountains in the distance. “In less than a week, we’ll be at Pierre’s Hole, and we can all get some much-needed rest. Until then, we just have to grin and bear it.”

Shaky Johnson nodded in silence while several of the other men murmured under their breath. Most of them cast her a look of appreciation.

Ike brought his horse up beside her, and for several minutes, they waited in silence while the four wagons moved past them.

“The men appreciate that you’re quick to encourage and recognize their efforts,” he finally said when the last wagon rolled by. He nudged his horse to follow and Tessa did the same, letting her horse fall in step beside Ike’s mount.

“Why shouldn’t I encourage them?” she asked, keeping her eyes forward and not looking at him. “I know I can be harsh and demanding, but I also value all their hard work. It needs to be acknowledged and appreciated.”

Her father hadn’t been good at doling out praise. No matter how hard she’d worked for the Missouri River Fur Company behind her desk, he’d never voiced his gratitude. Being told of a job well done meant a lot, and she’d seen it in the men’s eyes that her words had a positive effect on both the rougher mountain men as well as the unseasoned greenhorns. They had weathered storms, crossed treacherous rivers, navigated dense forests, and made it over South Pass.

“Well, you should know that they all look up to you. You’ve certainly earned their respect over the weeks. It hasn’t been easy. ” Ike cast her a quick smile before looking straight ahead again.

Tessa remained quiet. The air was getting colder as the sun slowly sank into the horizon. The weight of the long journey pressed down on her. She needed to prove to her father and her men – and to herself – that she was a capable leader of this brigade.

She adjusted her seat in the saddle. Her muscles ached. Not a single bone in her body was spared the discomfort, but she wasn’t going to let her weariness show. They were behind schedule already and couldn’t afford to miss the rendezvous dates, or all their hard work would be for nothing. She was not going to allow all the weeks of hardship and effort to be for nothing. She would not return home to her father having failed.

She rode in silence behind the wagons, absorbed in her own thoughts, while Ike led the men across the valley toward a wooded area along a narrow stream.

“Looks like a good place to rest for the night, Miss Tessa. The men and animals are spent.” Ike approached her and cast her a long stare, perhaps waiting for her to challenge him and tell him to keep pushing on. Instead, she nodded.

“Yes, this is a good place to rest.” Tessa sighed. “We’ve all had a long day. Her back ached, but she straightened quickly in the saddle. “Tell the men to set up camp along the stream.”

Darkness was upon them when they finally had their camp set up. The animals had been watered and secured for the night, and several low fires crackled softly as the chirping crickets added a familiar calm to the evening.

Out of habit, Tessa moved from wagon to wagon and checked the supplies. Her mind wandered to the events of the day. Her body screamed for rest, but she would not give in to its demands, yet. She would settle into her bedroll in a few minutes. The men couldn’t be allowed to see her fatigued, so she had to keep to her nightly ritual of checking each of the wagons.

Her mind wandered back to the difficult crossing of the Green River. They’d nearly lost a wagon today, but they had made it through. She smiled as a small sense of victory washed over her. After all the struggles, no mountain, no river, and no other threats were going to stop her from completing what she’d set out to do, and when she returned home, Father would finally tell her how proud he was of her.

The familiar sounds of laughter and storytelling filled the air as the men settled around the campfires. The faint aroma of cooking meat drifted through the air, and Tessa’s stomach responded with a loud growl. She found her bedroll near Ike’s, and settled in to listen to Zeke Bailey as he offered a prayer over the food, something he did every night. The blessing was followed by Charlie Harlow’s rendition of how he’d single-handedly defeated a war party of Arikaree warriors during his first year in the wilderness. His tall tale was followed by someone else’s story of heroism. Each successive tale grew more exaggerated as the evening wore on.

Zeke offered her a plate piled high with meat and beans. “Thanks,” she said with a smile as she accepted the food. Her arm was almost too heavy to hold the plate, so she set it down next to her. She’d rather close her eyes and sleep, but she needed to eat.

A sense of wariness settled in the pit of her stomach, but it was probably due to being exhausted. Everything was peaceful in camp. She was so close to Pierre’s Hole and a successful mission, but could she truly let her guard down yet?

She pushed the beans around on her plate and raised the fork to her mouth, then abruptly stopped. A movement at the edge of camp that wasn’t from the horses caught her eye. It was quickly followed by the shadows of several figures as they appeared through the trees.

Tessa instantly stiffened and pulled her pistol from her belt. Several of the men had also seen the shadows and cocked their rifle hammers.

"Hello the camp," a voice called out, breaking through the calm evening. The crickets stopped chirping, and several horses snorted.

Tessa’s sore muscles tensed as her heart leapt into her throat. Visitors at night were unexpected, but they’d called out the customary greeting when approaching a camp, so why should she feel so alarmed?

Ike had already stood and moved toward the edge of the camp, his hand hovering over his pistol. Tessa stood to follow him.

“Show yourselves,” Ike called into the darkness, his voice calm but commanding. Instantly, several men came forward into the firelight.

“We mean no harm,” one of the men called out. He sounded rough and weary. “Just need a warm fire to rest for a spell.”

Ike waved them forward. “Come in, then.”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the new arrivals. One could never be too careful. True tales of skirmishes between rival trappers were all too common. Oddly, these men didn’t have horses. Her eyes widened as they drew closer. The five strangers looked like they’d been through hell. Their clothes were torn and splattered with blood stains, their faces haggard and pale. Two of them were clearly injured. One man was holding his side, and the other limped. It looked as though he had a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his leg.

“What happened?” Ike asked immediately, stepping forward to offer a hand to one of the injured men. Several of the other men at the fire murmured and stood to greet the newcomers.

The first man grimaced in pain as he took the offered support. “We were ambushed.” His voice was raspy, as if it pained him to speak. “Indians. Gros Ventre.”

Tessa’s heart skipped a beat. An Indian attack? So close to the rendezvous? The uneasy pit in her stomach grew at the unsettling news. She couldn’t afford any distractions. Not now. Not when they were so close to Pierre’s Hole.

“I heard the Gros Ventre were peaceful,” Ike said, clearly taken aback. “It’s the Blackfeet we need to worry about.”

One of the other men, standing behind his injured companions, scoffed bitterly. “Not lately they ain’t. Been raiding along the Green and Snake River country for weeks now. Their war chief goes by the name Storm. Ruthless bastard. Has it out for any trappers in the area. Even the Blackfeet want nothing to do with him.” He glanced around the fires at Tessa’s men. “If you’re headed to Pierre’s Hole, you’d best keep your wits about you, if you plan on getting there alive.”

Tessa's eyes narrowed. “Storm?” she said, then smirked. “As my father likes to say, ‘the only way out of a storm is through’. We’ll just deal with him if the time comes.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he stared at her. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed her until now.

“A woman?” he said, almost in disbelief. “This area isn’t safe for anyone, much less a female.” He stared at Ike as if to make him understand the danger they were in.

Tessa stepped forward. “Let’s not concern ourselves with me. Right now, it looks like you and your men need tending to. Come to the fire, and I’ll take a look at your wounds.” She glanced over her shoulder toward one of the fires. “Zeke, please get these men something to eat, and set water to boil.”

The five trappers settled around one of the fires, retelling as best they could about their encounter with the war party of Gros Ventre.

“We was headed to Pierre’s Hole for the rendezvous. They came out of nowhere. Six of our men were killed before we even realized what was happening,” Jim Ferguson, the apparent leader of this group, recalled.

“How many of them were there?” Ike asked.

“A dozen, maybe more,” one of the other men said. The terror of the encounter flickered in his eyes. “All warriors heavily armed with bows and arrows. A few had rifles. They were relentless. It was an unprovoked attack.”

“They’re out there, and they’ll keep attacking,” Ferguson chimed in.

Tessa unwrapped the man’s injured leg to clean a deep wound where an arrow had gone through his thigh. She rebandaged it the best she could in the dim light by the fire. Ferguson shot her a grateful smile.

She took in a long breath while absorbing all the information. The night had suddenly turned dark and cold, and a chill ran down her spine. A tribe on the warpath could change everything.

She straightened and squared her shoulders. "Settle in for the night," she said, her voice firm but calm. Her gaze scanned the camp and her men, then landed on the newcomers. "You can travel with us in the morning. We’ll make it to Pierre’s Hole.” She stood and went to Ike. “Make sure we have extra men standing watch tonight,” she said softly. “There will be no surprise attack on this camp.”

The men dimmed the fires to only glowing coals, and they settled into a tense quiet. Their laughter and lighthearted stories from earlier were replaced with the sober realities of the wilderness and the dangers of hostile tribes.

Tessa stood alone for a moment, staring into the dark. Sleep was impossible now, no matter how tired she was.

The only way out of a storm is through .

Her father’s words echoed in her mind. In this case, however, if she wanted to keep her men alive and accomplish her mission, it might be best to avoid this particular storm rather than confront it. At least now she was prepared for an encounter.