Chapter Sixteen
James strode through the camp, his boots crunching over the dry prairie grass. His eyes scanned every shadow, his chest tight with unease.
“Lucy!” he called, his voice sharp and steady, cutting through the murmurs of the other pioneers. “Lucy, where are you?”
The camp was quiet except for the low hum of voices as people began searching their wagons and tents, their movements hurried and tense. But there was no sign of the little girl.
James’s stomach churned as he passed Thomas’s wagon. The older man was rifling through the contents with a frantic energy that James had rarely seen from him.
“She’s not here,” Thomas muttered, shoving aside a stack of blankets and slamming the tailgate shut. His face was pale, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the wagon. “She’s not in the wagon.”
James placed a steadying hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.
Thomas looked up at him, his eyes wide and filled with raw panic. “She wouldn’t just wander off,” he said. “She knows better than that.”
James could hear snippets of the other’s voices, calling Lucy’s name, asking each other if anyone had seen her.
Rachel approached, her face pale. “I just checked the supply wagons. She’s not there.”
James’s jaw tightened, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. Lucy was just a child, too small to fend for herself if something had happened. And out here, in the vast, unforgiving wilderness, there was no room for error.
“Everyone, gather around!” James called, his voice cutting through the camp.
Moments later, they all stood together. James glanced at Angela, whose hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“Where could she have gone?” Angela asked, their voice edged with panic.
“She’s just a child,” Rosie said. “She can’t have gotten far!”
“It will be dark soon,” James said sharply, turning to address the group. “We’ll find her. But we need to move quickly.”
He stepped forward, raising his voice to cut through the noise.
“Listen up! We’re organizing a search party. Everyone spread out and search in pairs. Stay within shouting distance. The prairie’s vast, and it’s easy to get turned around.”
The group quieted as James began giving instructions, his voice calm but firm.
“Rosie, Rachel, you two take the area near the riverbank. Toby, Elias, head north toward the hills. Minister Sam, take Thomas with you and search around the old cattle path. The rest of you check the perimeter of the camp—she might have doubled back.”
“And you?” Rosie asked, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes.
“Angela and I will head west,” James replied, glancing at Angela briefly before continuing. “We’ll cover as much ground as we can. Keep calling her name, and look for anything she might’ve dropped—footprints, clothing, anything. And don’t stop until we find her.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and people began moving, their voices calling out as they paired up and ventured into the wilderness.
Angela followed James as they made their way westward.
“Dear God,” Angela whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. “Please keep her safe. Please guide us to her.”
James glanced at her.
“We’ll find her,” he said firmly, even as doubt clawed at him.
“I just… I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t,” Angela replied.
“We will,” James repeated, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for her sake or his own.
***
The afternoon dragged on, the search stretching into a grueling, relentless ordeal. The prairie seemed endless, its golden grasses whispering in the hot breeze, hiding any sign of the little girl they were desperately trying to find.
The sun blazed overhead, unyielding, baking the earth until the air shimmered with heat. James felt sweat trickling down his back, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His boots kicked up small clouds of dust with every step, the gritty taste of it coating his mouth and throat.
“Lucy!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and raw.
The sound barely carried over the rustling grass and distant calls from the other searchers. He scanned the horizon again, his eyes narrowing against the glare of the sinking sun.
Nothing.
Beside him, Angela trudged on, her head turning constantly, her eyes wide and filled with worry. Her skirts were torn and dirty from the tall grass, and her cheeks were flushed with heat.
She was calling Lucy’s name too, her voice trembling slightly now, frayed with exhaustion and fear.
James couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, noting the strain etched into her features. She hadn’t stopped praying, her soft murmurs weaving in and out of her desperate calls for Lucy.
“Please, God,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Help us to find her. Don’t let her be alone out here. Please.”
Her words struck something in him, sharp and unrelenting.
“Here,” he said abruptly, handing Angela the water canteen.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was rough, her lips dry and cracked.
“Don’t argue,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “You’ll pass out if you don’t drink something. Take it.”
Angela hesitated before taking the canteen, her fingers brushing his briefly as she uncapped it. She drank deeply, the sound of the water sloshing in the container loud in the heavy silence of the prairie. When she handed it back, her eyes met his, gratitude flickering briefly in their depths.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
James nodded, his throat too dry to reply. He took a quick swig from the canteen himself before capping it again.
As they continued their search, the sun dipped lower, its golden glow turning deeper, more orange, casting long shadows across the rolling landscape.
The heat remained oppressive, and James felt his limbs growing heavier with every step. His throat burned from shouting, his muscles ached, and his mind churned with growing desperation. But he kept going. He had to.
We’ll find her, he told himself, though the words felt hollow now, thin and brittle as the air around them.
Angela stumbled slightly over a tuft of grass, and James reached out instinctively, steadying her with a hand on her arm.
She nodded her thanks, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.
“She’s out here,” Angela said, her voice trembling as she glanced at him. “I can feel it. We just have to keep looking.”
James didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he looked out over the vast expanse of prairie. The golden grasses waved gently in the breeze, deceptive in their beauty, masking the treacherous emptiness beneath.
God, if You’re there… he thought, the words forming unbidden, uncomfortably foreign in his mind. He hadn’t prayed in years, hadn’t even considered it. But now, as he watched Angela whisper her prayers with such raw conviction, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain.
If You’re there… don’t let this girl die out here. Don’t let her father lose her like I lost…
He couldn’t finish the thought.
The sun touched the horizon, its light casting the prairie in a fiery orange glow. Shadows stretched longer, darker, and James’s heart sank with every passing moment. They had been searching for hours, their voices growing weaker, their hope fading.
“Lucy!” Angela called again, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. Her prayers grew louder, her words raw with desperation. “Please, Lord. Help us find her. Don’t let her suffer. Don’t let her…”
Her voice broke, and James turned to her, his chest tightening at the sight of her tears.
“Angela,” he said softly, surprising even himself with the gentleness in his tone. “We’ll find her.”
She looked up at him, her face streaked with dirt and sweat, her eyes searching his for something—hope, reassurance, anything to hold onto. He wasn’t sure if he believed his own words, but he said them again.
“We’ll find her.”
They pressed on, the prairie growing darker as the sun sank below the horizon. The first stars began to prick the dusky sky, and James felt the weight of the night closing in.
And then he saw it.
“Wait,” he said sharply, stopping in his tracks.
Angela froze, following his gaze as he pointed toward a patch of tall grass a few yards away. At first, it looked like nothing more than a shadow, but as James stepped closer, his breath caught.
There, nestled in the grass, was a small, crumpled figure.
“Lucy,” he breathed, dropping the reins and running forward.
Angela was right behind him, her hands flying to her mouth as James kneeled beside the little girl. She was curled into a ball, her tiny body limp and covered in dirt, her face pale and streaked with tears.
James’s hands trembled as he checked her pulse, his heart pounding. It was faint but steady.
“She’s alive,” he said quickly, relief washing over him like a wave. “But she’s dehydrated. We need to get her back to camp—now.”
Angela nodded, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, “Thank You, God.”
James didn’t waste a moment. He scooped Lucy into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he stood. Her body was frighteningly light, her small frame barely stirring as he held her.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice firm.
Angela followed, her hands clasped together in silent prayer as they hurried back toward the camp, the stars guiding their way through the darkened prairie.