Only The Strong

again.”

Nate shook Samuel’s hand heartily. He liked the Worths, liked them a lot. It was partly why he agreed to guide them to the Rockies. The other part had to do with the slaver hunters who had been after them. Two-legged coyotes who hurt Winona when she tried to help the Worths. No one hurt Nate’s wife and got away with it. Ever.

Chickory was staring after the buffalo. “Did you see how big that thing was? And you say there’s millions of them? How can that be? Are they like rabbits, always havin’ young?”

Nate explained, “The cows usually only have one calf at a time. I reckon there are so many because they can live twenty-five years or better, and there’s not much that can kill them except man.” Wolves weeded out the old and the sick, but they were relatively few.

“It’s the Almighty’s doin’,” Emala declared. “His hand is over this land. It’s the Garden of Eden all over again.”

Nate read the Bible often. He loved to read. In their cabin was an entire shelf lined with books, his most prized possessions. “The Garden of Eden had the Tree of Life and every animal under the sun.”

Emala brightened. “You know your Scripture.”

“When my children were little, I read passages to them every night.”

“So did I. I admire that in a man,” Emala said with a pointed look at her husband. “Ask my family and they’ll tell you that I’m the God-fearin’est female who ever lived.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Chickory said.

“Amen, Son,” Samuel threw in.

Emala frowned. “You and me are havin’ words tonight when we’re alone.”

“What are you mad about now?”

“Nothin’.”

“Then why do you look fit to kick me?”

Nate couldn’t get over how much they squabbled. Emala was particular about things, and when they weren’t done to suit her, she let whomever displeased her know it. It made him appreciate Winona all the more. Oh, she lit into him now and again and nagged him on occasion, but mostly she let him do as he felt best without constantly criticizing him.

Randa clasped Nate’s hand. “You sure were wonderful, Mr. King.”

“I hardly did anything,” Nate assured her, and was puzzled when his wife grinned.

“You stood up to that buffalo as bold as could be.” Randa heaped on the praise. “The same as when you helped us against those slave hunters.”

“A man does what he has to.” Nate didn’t know what else to say. He tried to pull his hand back but she held on.

“You killed three of them to save us,” Randa gushed. “You were”—she stopped, searching for the right word—“magnificent.”

Emala snatched her daughter’s wrist. “Come on, girl.” She nearly yanked Randa off her feet. “Let’s get you back to the fire, where it’s safe.”

Nate watched them walk off and became aware that his wife was staring at him and still grinning. “What?”

“My, you are a handsome devil,” Winona said in her flawless English. She had a talent for learning languages that far surpassed his own.

“What are you talking about?”

“You do not see it, and it is right in front of your face.”

“What?”

“Is that the only word you know today?” Winona made a show of trying to remember something. “Now, let me see. What is it our daughter-in-law likes to say about men? Oh, yes.” She paused. “As blind as bats and as dumb as tree stumps.” She laughed gaily.

“Why is it,” Nate asked, “that women feel the need to talk rings around a man before they get to the point?”

“My point, dear husband, is that sweet Randa is smitten. Ever since you saved them from those slave hunters, her eyes follow you everywhere. Surely you’ve noticed?”

No, Nate hadn’t, and he decided to change the subject. “It’s too bad I didn’t kill all of them.”

“Why? Do you think the two who got away will make more trouble for the Worths?”

“I hope not. I hope they have the brains to leave well enough be. But Samuel told me there’s a bounty on their heads. Thousands of dollars. That pair might not give up.”

“What will you do if they come after us?”

“Need you ask?” Nate King said.

Chapter Three

Emala Worth would tell you she wasn’t the bravest of souls. Truth was, Emala was timid. She was scared of so many things, she had lost count. Spiders, snakes, mice, rats, mosquitoes, bees, wasps, lightning, big dogs, bulls and even cows. She was afraid of horses, too, although she was gradually getting over her fear of them after weeks of riding across the prairie.

But one thing Emala couldn’t get over, one fear she couldn’t escape, was her dread of the wilderness. There was so much to be afraid of, it was as if the Good Lord deliberately put the wilderness there just to scare people to death. Bears, wolves, cougars, hostiles, you name it, the wild haunts crawled with them. And from what the Kings told her, the mountains weren’t any better.

Buffalo were at the top of Emala’s to-be-afraid-of list. They were so big and so hairy, and those horns were like swords. It didn’t help that they had bad tempers. She couldn’t help comparing them to her husband, who was prone to lose his temper now and again.

Emala’s heart had leaped into her throat at the sight of her precious daughter being menaced by that mean bull. Of all her many fears, her greatest was that she would lose one of her children. They were everything to her. It was partly out of love for Randa that Emala agreed to flee the plantation even though her heart wasn’t in it.

Some folks would say she was crazy. They would say that being a slave was the worst thing you could be. But being a slave was all Emala ever knew. She was born into slavery, just as her mother before her. To her, their small shack and pitifully few possessions were as good as life got, and she never hankered after more.

It helped that Emala had refuge in her faith. She believed in the Lord God Almighty. She’d read the Bible completely through and was proud of the feat. When her children were little, in the evenings she would read to them to instill her love of Scripture in them.

Leaving her Bible behind when they fled had been the hardest thing Emala ever did. She missed it. She missed it terribly. And now, winding along the Platte River, she grew sad with regret. So sad, she didn’t notice when her horse acquired a shadow.

“Is something the matter?”

Emala gave a start. “Mr. King! You about scared me out of a year’s growth.”

Nate was astride his big bay, his Hawken in the crook of his elbow. “You looked fit to cry.”

“I am,” Emala confessed. She explained, ending with, “I can do without a lot of things, but I can’t do without my Scripture.”

“Maybe I can help,” Nate offered. “Remember my little library I mentioned?”

“I surely do.” Emala had always wanted to own more books but what little money she earned back on the plantation went for more important things.

“I have a Bible. In fact, I have two. One was my mother’s. I brought it back with me from my last trip to New