Chapter Thirty-Two #2
He helped her to his horse, his hands firm but gentle as he lifted her into the saddle. She flinched slightly at the movement, and his jaw tightened.
James climbed up behind her. He wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her, his other hand gripping the reins.
“Let’s go,” he said, glancing at Toby.
Toby nodded, hoisting Silas onto his own horse with a grunt. Silas grumbled, twisting in his bindings, but Toby gave him a sharp nudge.
“Keep squirming, and I’ll tie you to the saddle,” Toby growled.
James clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward. Angela leaned into him as they rode, her small frame pressed against his chest. The faint scent of lavender clung to her, mixed with the earthiness of dirt and sweat.
They reached the camp a short while later, the faint glow of the fire coming into view as they crested a small hill. James dismounted first, helping Angela down carefully before handing the reins to a waiting pioneer.
As they approached the wagons, the camp stirred, the remaining pioneers emerging from their tents and gathering around. Murmurs rippled through the group as they spotted Silas, tied and muttering under his breath as Toby hauled him off the horse.
“What happened?” Rachel asked, her eyes wide as she rushed forward. “Angela, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Angela said softly, but her voice was barely audible over the rising chatter of the crowd.
Rosie appeared, her brow furrowed with worry as she wrapped an arm around Angela’s shoulders.
“You’re safe now,” she murmured. “That’s all that matters.”
James watched as the women led Angela toward the fire, their voices a soothing hum. His chest still felt tight, his heart still racing.
“Toby,” he said, turning toward the older man.
Toby nodded. “I’ll deal with him,” he said, dragging Silas toward one of the supply wagons.
“You can’t keep me here forever!” Silas shouted, his voice raw and venomous. “This isn’t over, Whitaker!”
James ignored him, his focus on Angela. He crossed the camp quickly, his boots crunching against the dirt as he approached her. She was sitting on a crate near the fire, her hands still trembling as she tried to drink from a tin cup.
“Let me see,” he said softly, kneeling in front of her.
She hesitated, but when he gently reached for her hands, she let him take them. Her knuckles were scraped raw, the skin broken and speckled with dried blood. A faint bruise was forming on her wrist where Silas had grabbed her, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
Her left forearm was lined with an angry red scrape, the result of landing hard against the rocky ground when she was thrown from the wagon.
The fabric of her sleeve had torn, and James could see the raw edges of the wound beneath it.
Dirt clung to her palms and arms, and there was a small cut just above her eyebrow where a branch had caught her on the way down.
“Angela,” James said softly, his voice heavy with concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her. I didn’t want to make a fuss.”
James snorted softly, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “You just got kidnapped, Angela. I think a little fuss is warranted.”
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the tension between them softened. The firelight flickered across her face, illuminating the tear tracks on her cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze.
“I was so scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I knew I had to get away, so I grabbed the reins…”
Her voice trailed off as James lifted his eyebrows.
“You tried to take the reins?” he repeated in awe.
Angela nodded. “I had to do something.”
“Well, look at you,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. “Seems the trail is rubbing off on you after all.”
“It wasn’t brave,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Stupid, maybe; I was just so afraid.”
James’s throat tightened. “You weren’t the only one.”
She looked at him questioningly, and he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He focused on her hands, wrapping a strip of clean cloth around her wrist to steady himself.
“I’ve been scared plenty of times out here,” he said finally, his voice low. “Wild animals, storms, bandits… But nothing—”
He stopped, shaking his head as he glanced away.
“Nothing like tonight.”
Angela’s breath hitched softly, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“If anything had happened to you…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze again. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, the sounds of the camp fading into the background.
Then Angela leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss.
James froze, his breath catching in his throat. But as the warmth of her touch melted the tension in his chest, he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.
When they finally pulled apart, Angela’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with surprise and something softer.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
James shook his head, his voice rough. “You don’t have to thank me.”
He looked at her, his heart still racing, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his chest as he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
She was safe, alive, and here with him—a fact that felt like a miracle in itself.
And as he held her gaze, James felt a quiet realization settle over him, steadying his frayed nerves.
It wasn’t just him. He hadn’t been alone in this. God had been with them, guiding him through the storm of emotions, through the terror and the chaos. Protecting her. Protecting both of them.
James’s throat tightened, and he glanced upward at the darkened sky, where the stars had begun to pierce through the fading twilight.
“He never left us,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Angela’s eyes softened, understanding without needing to ask.
“No,” she said quietly. “He never does.”
For the first time in years, James felt the weight of his doubt begin to lift, replaced by something he hadn’t dared to hope for—peace.
And as he looked back at Angela, he realized that keeping her safe wasn’t just about his strength or resolve.
It was about trusting in something greater than himself, something unshakable.
James reached for her hand, his voice steadier now.
“We’re not alone out here, Angela. Not ever.”
Her fingers tightened around his, a small smile playing on her lips.
“No, we’re not.”
And in that moment, James knew with certainty that they had been carried through more than just danger. They were carried by grace.