Loving Against the Grain (Into the West #2)

Chapter 11

 

Emmie awoke slowly, the steady sound of a rushing waterfall intruding upon her peaceful dream of running through a field of clover as a carefree little girl, while cotton sheep looked on. The sound rose to discordant levels within the pastoral reverie, until even the dream Emmaline turned her head toward the obtrusive echo. And that’s when Emmie slowly opened her eyes into the here and now, reluctant to leave the peaceful setting of her midday nap.

Rolling her head atop the rucksack pillow, Emmaline spied the culprit of all the noise: Horsetail Falls. All the morning’s events and conversations seeped back into her consciousness, and she struggled to a sitting position, body already stiff from lying on the cool ground. A red shirt fell away from her body as she sat up, and her groggy mind grappled with how it came to be around her. Where had she seen the shirt before? It took only seconds for her to remember Noah; commendable, really, seeing as she wasn’t accustomed to having a husband yet.

A breeze kicked up, ruffling the leaves above and sending them to dancing upon its back as it coursed over and along the creek, while Emmaline stumbled to her feet, glancing about for the man in question. Hadn’t he just been fishing right alongside her resting place? Her gaze, sharper now, flitted about, landing on the creek’s edge, crossing to the other side, flashing both right and left, but still found no Noah. Only sun-dappled trees and gurgling water. Where had he gone?

Bending to pick up the flannel shirt and absently wrap it around her shoulders from where it had fallen, his faint scent wafted about her comfortingly. Emmaline hugged the shirt tight as fear squeezed her heart with a painful grip. Had her new husband left her? Or was he gone simply to relieve himself? Another cursory glance around showed no full-length fishing pole along the bank. Only hers, resting beside her blanket. Surely he wouldn’t take his if all he was doing was emptying his bladder.

Her neck twisted from side to side, breath hitching in her throat as Emmaline stepped first left, then right, trying to see a flash of blond hair along the creek bank. Nothing. Only more rustling of leaves and branches. Her gaze suddenly narrowed on an indistinct shadow along the shore. Wait! Was that a bear’s nose, peeking out from that bush down where the pool narrowed into the creek? A twig cracked to her left. Emmaline swung about, body trembling, hands fisted in Noah’s flannel shirt as she searched for the culprit of the snapping sound. Had a hungry mountain cat stalked her, looking for the fish she hadn't yet caught?

A sob escaped her lips, and frightened tears began dribbling from the corners of Emmaline’s eyes. He’d left her here! She’d angered him with her abruptness, her rudeness, and he’d tired of her company and simply left her here! Her husband, a man she still barely knew, had decided she was too demanding and he’d abandoned her out in the woods where she didn’t know the way home, leaving her only the day’s supplies of food and tools, with no weapon for protection. He’d had second thoughts, and come to the belated conclusion that she, Emmaline Townsend—Lawson—was too much work for him, and he’d left her to find her own way back, or perish trying.

She spun about, rotating faster and faster, hand at her throat, attempting to stifle the hysteria clawing its way past her lips, out of her mouth. She was alone; alone and defenseless in the woods of the Northwest; lost and confused, and utterly alone. She would die here of exposure; she and her unborn baby that no one wanted would die out here in the unforgiving wilderness. Debilitating fear overtook common sense

“NOAH!” She suddenly screamed, hopping up and down while clutching the horse wrangler’s shirt tight about her, tears of fear streaking down her cheeks. She would not be abandoned; left to die, like just another fish gasping for its last breath along the creek’s side. If he was anywhere within earshot, he would hear her!