"What about Mist' Em," William said, "an Flower?"

Hattie sobered. "Mister Em will be leaving," she said, feeling the pain of his departure already, "as soon as he sees me settled."

It was time William knew the truth. "Emmet only married me to protect me," she explained. "He never promised to stay with me forever." At William's frown, she quickly added, "He's a good man, William, just not a staying one."

"Flower, she'll maybe want to stay, too," was all he said, but his frown lingered.

Hattie was grateful to change the subject. "Do you think she will? I'd love to have her."

"She'll stay," William said again, this time positively. "I oughta' bring her up here, too."

"You should. Let's go back, and you can do that." Relieved that he had asked her no more about her relationship with Emmet, Hattie started down the slope.

William caught up with her. "This way. Somethin' more I wants you to see." He led her back and along the base of the slope, until they were in the narrow ravine down which one of the creeks tumbled.

Hattie paid little attention to the dense shrubs around them until she found herself face to face with a cluster of almost-red berries.

"Chokecherries! William, these are all chokecherries!" The band of chokecherry bushes extended for some distance up the ravine, all but clogging it. They were thick with fruit, still unripe but full of promise.

He nodded, his dark eyes sparkling. "Make might' fine jam, won't they?"

Her ebullient mood restored, Hattie followed William back to their campsite. Her mind was filled with details of what must be done before they could settle in here. She had no doubts. This was home and here she would stay.

And she even had a family to share it with. Ellen would grow up here. Flower was her sister, Silas her brother. And William was the best of neighbors.

If only she could share it with Emmet as well. Hattie sighed and told herself, for perhaps the thousandth time, that she was only wasting time and effort, wishing for what could not be.

"As soon as Silas comes back, we'll send him for the wagon. Maybe Flower could go with him." She didn't want William to go among people just yet. There was always the chance that someone would see his color and force him back into slavery.

"He seems to be resting better," Flower told her before she could ask about Emmet. "I think his fever is down, too."

"I wondered, but was afraid to hope," Hattie said. "I'll put on a new poultice."

She did not say what she would use, not certain of Flower's approval. This morning she had found some of the tiny wild onions just outside the camp and had chopped them and boiled them. Flower's Indian remedies were all well and good, but there was nothing like a good onion poultice for drawing poison out.

Alone with Emmet, she had to resist the temptation to sit beside him, touching him for her own reassurance. He was cooler, his breathing more regular, his heartbeat slower. Hope began to grow, although she told herself it was far too soon to be counting any chickens.

Emmet opened his eyes to the sound of water dripping. He turned his head toward the light and saw why. Above him there was a crude framework of woven willow withes holding piled evergreens. All along the edge of the framework, water poured in a hundred tiny streams. And beyond he could see the rain, a curtain of water turning the day dark and filling every depression with ponds and puddles.

He was alone; had he been abandoned? The fire ring was just beyond the shelter, its blackened rocks and broken charcoal glistening in the pale gray light. Two empty panniers and the parfleche he'd made for their food lay next to his saddle, empty.

A man didn't last long in the wilderness if he didn't use his senses before he went off half-cocked. Emmet listened, but could hear nothing beyond the rain's incessant drip. He sniffed and smelled wet vegetation and wet ashes and just a hint of lilac. That was from the ragged quilt that covered him. And there was a strong odor of onion as well.

On the second try he managed to turn onto his back, barely. He was weak as a day-old kitten. Raising his head, he grew dizzy from the effort. A dull ache radiated from the place, just below his left shoulder blade, where he'd been shot. His last clear memory was of unendurable pain in that same place.

He was about to struggle to his feet when he heard movement. Splashing. In a moment William appeared out of the wet gloom. He was soaked to the skin, water dripping from the fringes of his shirt, running down his ebony face. He entered the shelter and knelt beside Emmet's bed. Only then did he notice Emmet's open eyes.

"Well, howdy there, Mist' Em. I done tol' Miz Hattie you was gettin' ready to wake up." His grin was wide and happy. "I come to fetch you."

"Fetch me? To where?" This was a good campsite. Why were they moving?

"Up the hill. Can you set on Odin, or does I need to carry you?"

Emmet moved experimentally. Maybe not a day-old kitten. More like a blind, newborn mouse. "If you can get me up there, I can probably hold on." William was a big man, but so was Emmet. He doubted the other could carry him farther than a few yards.

He came close to passing out more than once before he sat safely astride the big white ox. When William suggested tying his hands and feet together to keep him there, he had to agree. He wouldn't mind falling, but not in the mud.

"We got us a place up a ways," William told him, walking beside him and steadying him with a strong hand on his leg. "It's mighty nice, and a lot better for watchin' who's comin'."

Emmet thought about how Baldy might still be following them. "How long was I sick?" He had dreamed of pain filled nights and endless days in which people poked and pulled at him, forced bitter concoctions down his throat.

"Four days, I reckon. You wasreal sick."

"Four days! Great God!" In four days even a wounded Baldy could have caught up with them. "Who's standing watch? Where's Silas?"

"Now you jest calm yourself, Mist' Em. Silas, he'll be back when he gits here and not a bit sooner. Flower, she's watchin' right now, but we all keeps our eyes peeled."

Emmet seized on the one thing he didn't understand. "When he gets back? Where the hell is Silas?"

"Why he done went back to git our stuff, back there where we found the gold. Him an' Dawg. They took your horse and that Herkalees ox."

Emmet swore. The fools. Sending a boy to face down a merciless bastard like Baldy. And all because of a little food and that damn gold. And there was nothing he could do. He wasn't so stupid to deny that he was in no shape to do anything more energetic than hold his eyes open. That and pray that he'd wounded Baldy severely enough that Silas would be a match for him.

Despite his concern, he was alert enough to see where William was taking him.

He'd intended to explore up this way. Obviously William had done so. The original campsite had been too exposed. Up here they had the steep hillside at their backs and looked out over the river approach. In clear weather Emmet thought they might see into the gaps to east and west, as well.

Bessie and the black ox lifted their heads as William led Odin past. Shortly thereafter Emmet felt the ox begin to climb. Wishing he could wipe the water from his face, he tried to see ahead. Only when they topped the hill did he see Hattie standing under a shelter, larger but otherwise just like the one he'd awakened in.

Hattie cut the thongs that held his wrists and ankles. Emmet stifled a curse when he slid into William's arms, hating the fact of his inadequacy. Hattie took his other arm and with their support he managed to make his feet work for the few steps he needed.

As soon as he was settled, Hattie started unwinding the leather strips around his chest. He tried to push her aside but he had as much success as trying to stop the rain from falling. Frustrated, he demanded, "When did Silas leave?"

With any luck he'd be on his feet tomorrow and able to catch up with the lad before he ran into trouble he couldn't handle.

"Four... no, five days ago now," Hattie told him, laying aside the leather strip. She prodded at his back and, amazingly, it hardly pained him.

"Hell! That was before...." No. William had been wrong about how long he'd been unconscious.

"Yes, it was the same afternoon we opened your wound," Hattie admitted calmly.

"He left right after dinner. You were helping William with the pen."

He remembered. He'd been determined to have some sort of enclosure so the cattle wouldn't wander off, so he and William had dragged deadfalls and fresh cut saplings into a rude corral. It had been just about the hardest work he'd ever done, given his weakness.

"I didn't tell him...." He jumped, for she'd put something cold against his skin, startling him.

"Hold still," she said. "No, you didn't tell him, but I did, Emmet. We need that food we left behind, and we need to know if any of the renegades survived."

"I would have gone." Even to his own ears he sounded sullen.

"You would have dropped off your horse within a mile," she said, picking up the strap. "Lift your arm. You were half dead." She began wrapping, silently.

Emmet let her finish, thinking yet again how little he could be depended upon. A fourteen year old boy was doing his work. A woman had made a decision he should have made. And an ignorant ex-slave was the only protection two women and a babe had from savages both red and white.

A pressure came to his back and he was aware that Hattie was leaning her head against him. "Oh, Emmet, I thought we wouldn't save you. You were so terribly sick." Something cold trickled down his spine and he realized it was a tear.

He bit his lip, wishing he had the strength to turn and take her into his arms.

But it was all he could do to stay upright, as the world spun around him.

Hattie pushed him backwards onto the bed. "Sorry," he said, unresisting, wanting to say more. "Sorry."

Hattie was astonished at how quickly Emmet grew well. The next day he was on his feet, moving slowly, but staying erect until late afternoon. The second day after they moved him up to the new shelter, he was dressed and standing guard.

His wound was draining nicely, with little swelling and no inflammation. She really believed that the only thing keeping him from full energy now was the fact that they'd been unable to get much more than broth into him for the better part of a week. But he was making up for it now, eating great quantities of the elk meat and the stewed greens Flower prepared each day.

Silas returned late the third day after the move, followed by three heavily loaded horses and an equally burdened Hercules, and at some distance behind, Dawg. Hattie saw him enter the meadow below the shelter and ran to meet him.

She forced herself to let him eat before he told his story. Flower volunteered to stand watch while Silas talked, but Silas said, "No need. He's dead."

And so they sat around the fire while Silas told of an uneventful journey back to the gold basin. "Dawg found one of the ones that was followin' us at the bottom of the slide," he said. "Didn't ever find the other. But I found the one you cut, Em. Just the other side of the divide." He paused to sip at the coffee, no longer so much a luxury now that they had eight or ten pounds of it.

"You killed him." Emmet said it as if it were a foregone conclusion.

"Didn't have to. He must have met up with a mama bear, 'cause he was tore up something fierce. Been dead a week, easy." Another sip. "So I went on back and found our stuff. Found theirs too. Their horses was still hobbled and mighty restive.

"Was that all they had? Three horses?"

"That's all I found. Saw the bones of another, no sign of any more. But I'm not much of a tracker." Silas shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

As they ate supper, Silas related how he had caught the horses and sorted through the supplies that had been scattered across the clearing. "Looked like more than one critter had been at it. But the flour barrel was all right, and the coffee hadn't been torn all the way open. At least they were smart enough to hang the bacon high. It hadn't been bothered much, but not for lack of trying.

There was bear sign all around the tree."

"What about the gold?" Hattie didn't really care, since what she and Emmet had found was a fortune beyond her wildest dreams. But the other three had spent a week gathering nuggets--Flower had told of the one William had found that was as big as his closed fist--and it didn't seem fair that their work had been for naught.

"I found me a cave and buried it," Silas said. "Figured we'd get more use out of the lead and powder and the food than we would out of the gold. Besides, we can always go back for it, when we need it." He told them where he'd buried it, taking a full day to pack it up a hill to the cave he'd found earlier. "I'll make you a map," he said, "soon's I get me something to write on."

"Now that we know we're not being followed, we can head on back to the valley of the Boise," Emmet said, when Silas had completed his account. "It shouldn't take us over a couple of weeks, if we're where I think we are. Give us another week to pack up the gear we left in the cabin, and we can start for Fort Vancouver by the end of June."

Hattie looked at William who stared back at her. Then she looked at Flower, whose expression was carefully blank.

"I'd like to leave the wagon behind, but I suppose we'll need it for the tools and such. But even so, I figure we can be at The Dalles by early August."

"Emmet," Hattie faltered, "there's something you don't know."

"With any luck there will be somebody there who can take us on to Fort Vancouver in a flatboat...."

"Emmet, I'm not going."

"You ought to have a place of your own before September. Give you time to...

what's that?"

"We're not going anywhere, Emmet," Hattie repeated. "We--Flower and Silas and William and I--are staying here."

She gestured around the valley. "Right here. This is Cherry Vale and it's our new home."

Chapter Eighteen.

Hattie saw his anger in the tightening of his mouth. She'd dreaded telling Emmet of her decision, knowing he wouldn't understand.

She had made such a fuss about getting to the Valley of the Willamette, had insisted that there was no place on earth she would rather be. Now here she was intending to stay in a godforsaken vale so far from anywhere that she wasn't even sure where she was. How could he understand?

There was a long silence, then Emmet held out his cup and said, "Flower, got any more of that coffee?"

She waited until the last few drops dribbled into his cup. "I think I'll go to bed now," she said, forcing her voice to be steady. "I'm awfully tired."

There was a murmur of good nights, but no one else moved. Hattie went to her bed, miserable and lonely. Even cuddling Ellen was less satisfying than usual.

What she really wanted was Emmet beside her. But he'd avoided any close contact with her since his awakening. And now he hated her. She knew he did.

He was gone the next morning. Hunting, William said, but Hattie believed it was due more to his wanderlust than from any need to find meat. They still had dried elk, and there were always fish.

He returned in late afternoon and sent William after the elk he'd killed a couple of miles up the north fork. Entering the shelter, he nodded at Flower, said, "Can you take the babe? Hattie and me need to have a talk."

Flower scooped Ellen into her arms and went out. Hattie made to follow, but Emmet caught her arm. "Sit. I want some answers."

Hattie sat.

Emmet set his foot on the section of log William had cut to serve them as a bench and leaned an elbow on his thigh. He glowered at her. "Were you serious?"

She nodded. "Almost as soon as I saw this place, I knew it was what I'd been looking for. It's home." Looking over his shoulder, she gazed across the meadows to the western gap beyond. "My home." Another pause, while she sought the right words. "I told you about how my parents died?"

This time he nodded.

"Well, what I didn't tell you was that was the fifth or sixth house I could remember. Pa was... well, he wasn't content to stay in one place for long. He was a good farmhand--I can remember one place they offered him a share in the crops if he'd stay. But he always got restless, come fall."