Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) by Heidi Vanlandingham

stopped. “Closer.” His eyes dared her to obey.
    Weighing her choices, she quickly realized there were none. She maneuvered her cold limbs toward his prone form. When his hand snaked around her waist and pulled her the final few inches, she found herself wrapped in his warm embrace. He was right, she admitted silently. This was better than standing out in that arctic wind.
    The sounds of ice breaking in the river and the occasional child’s snuffle proved a powerful sleeping draught, even allowing her to forget about the hard body pressed against her. Clay’s deep, rhythmic breathing made her feel safe and lulled her into a light sleep. As her mind shut down, several thoughts slipped through the murky haze. She liked this feeling of freedom, as if her world had righted itself again. For the first time in months, the too-tight pull of her neck and shoulders from constant worry faded. She would let herself enjoy this moment, but the practical side of her mind interjected. The last thing she needed was for him to find out just how much she cared. A quiet whisper tickled her ear as the outside world faded.
    “Thank you, aiukli .” The strange word flowed like a short melody.
    She stared up into the starlit night and listened to the soft puffs of air coming from the sleeping man next to her and dared to hope. Was it possible he might care for her too?

Chapter Ten
    Her eyes cracked open to the early evening’s graying light. She was so ready for spring. Listening to the familiar sounds of life on the other side of their wagon wall gave her the chance to think. So many things had happened to her. That fateful night was like another lifetime. With a start, she realized that’s exactly what it was. She no longer had a home or family, and to her sheltered mind, the future looked bleak.
    Clay moved behind her, pushing his body against hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach flip-flopped, and a burning excitement flooded through her warm body. As she tamped down the unfamiliar sensations, she realized how comfortable she was with him. The only other males she trusted were Martin and Bryan.
    Warmth encased her heart as she thought about the elderly man. From the beginning, he’d been so good to her. She truly wished she could be his granddaughter. Her thoughts turned to Clay. Did he ever think about her? His teasing seemed more brotherly than anything else. She sighed, irritated with herself as her mind realized what her heart already had. She was in love with him.
    “That sounded sad. Is something wrong?”
    Well, shoot , she thought. Now what am I going to say? She suppressed a hard shiver when a frigid burst of wind shot through the rickety wooden walls of the wagon. “Nothing’s wrong. Just relaxing.” The words tumbled over each other, and she hoped he would accept her answer and not press the issue. She sighed in relief when his mind turned to something else.
    “Has Martin said anything to you about crossing the river?”
    She wondered at the slight hesitation in his voice. “No, he hasn’t. Well, other than we need to pay close attention to the ice and the children.” Unthinking, she rolled onto her back and found herself looking up into his dark eyes. Bottomless pools of ink. Mentally kicking herself, she forced the next question between her frozen lips. “Why does the ice worry everyone?”
    His eyes lowered to her mouth and she forgot to breathe. When he answered, her lungs remembered to do their job and she gulped in air. “With the warmer weather, the ice is breaking apart. As the ship pushes through the water, the larger chunks ram the sides, making it very dangerous. If a large enough or sharp enough piece hits, the ship’s wooden hull will have a nice new hole in it.”
    She bunched her eyebrows. “That won’t be good,” she whispered.
    An amused smirk covered his face. “No,” he agreed with a chuckle. “That would not be good. Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll cross