Forsaking All Others Read Online Free PDF Page B

given the padding of gauze and bandages, soon the pressure eked its way through, and what had been a constant, familiar pulsation now became a silent, tangible scream as he pressed and pressed upon the wound. I fought not to cry out. Clenched my jaw, bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I arched my back in protest, thrashed my head, but soon it all rose within me, and the tiniest pressure of his thumb made its way to the place where I’d once worn my wedding band.
    I screamed, calling out, “Nathan!” And when I opened my mouth to call his name again, the bitter, familiar black drops landed on my tongue, to be chased away with pure white snow.

Chapter 4
    I recognized the sound of heavy sleds scraping over the snow and the muffled clomp of hooves. The gentle jostling woke me—the opposite effect of being rocked to sleep. The sweet, clean, cold smell of snow pierced my lungs, such a refreshing change from that of the ever-burning fire. I opened my eyes and saw peach-colored canvas stretched above me. On the other side of it was the sun.
    From what I could tell, I was lying atop a pile of skins—most likely buffalo—with my arms folded across my chest. My left hand throbbed mercilessly, but there was nothing I could do to alleviate my discomfort. I was wrapped—swaddled, really—in several wool blankets, cocooned like an Indian baby on its mother’s back. However, I was alone. I craned my neck, twisting it in hopes of getting a glimpse through the front opening to see who was driving. Remembering the conversation between Colonel Brandon and Nathan, I almost hoped it was my husband taking me home, even if I felt like some trussed-up prey. At least I would see my girls.
    My mouth and my throat felt like they’d been lined with tree bark. Still, I fought the pain to swallow before attempting to capture the attention of whoever might be at the reins.
    “H-hello there!”
    My best effort at shouting was nothing more than a croak no louder than the sound of the sled’s runners, and even that had robbed me of what little strength I had. This, then, was what Jonah must have felt all those days in the belly of that great fish. I tried to take some comfort in knowing that I was surely in God’s hands, as my own will had been handed over to him the moment I left my home so many days ago. Unwilling to succumb one more time to the depths of unconsciousness, I forced my mind to dwell on what I knew to be true: I had broken away from the bonds of the Mormons’ false teaching.
    And quite possibly been thrust into the hands of a greater danger.
    No! I pushed the doubt from my mind. Colonel Brandon was a fine Christian man.
    Who lied to your husband. Then lied to you.
    My eyes ached to produce tears, but none would come. I forced down the bile threatening to rumble up from my empty stomach. Now was the time for strength. Bracing against the pain, I rolled my shoulders once, twice, until I could move within the confines of the blankets. That helped, just to breathe a little. I lifted and contorted myself until my legs were equally free, which is when I discovered I was still dressed in the long shirt and woolen socks. No clothes, no shoes, and no way to find such items in the surrounding darkness. Not that I had any plans to jump to my escape, but the state of my undress restricted me as much as the blankets. I sat up—straight up—for the first time since awakening in the Army tent. Whether from the chloroform, the motion, or my lack of food, I immediately felt dizzy and reached out for the side of the wagon to keep me steady. Still, even that bit of initiative strengthened me, and I gingerly turned my body around until I was on my knees.
    I clutched at the canvas opening to hold me steady and, taking a deep, strengthening breath, tugged it open. The onslaught of sunlight sent me reeling backward, and I buried my face in my sleeve until I felt I could look up again. When I did, the shocked expression on Private