Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Read Online Free Page A

ground, and he felt the skin on his cheekbone split open where the large, beefy knuckles made contact.
    His unplanned escape escalated into a fight for his life when both soldiers kicked his midsection and back at the same time. Each ensuing blow landed with sharp, burning pains lancing his body until he lay immobile. His arms were painfully jerked behind him and tied together, blending this final burst of pain with all the rest and drawing him into a merciful, unfeeling void.

Chapter Four
    “We’ve received the order to move out.” Bryan’s voice held a note of apology as he gave them the news. Now Sophia shivered from the icy chill covering her skin and coating the sleeping landscape—and from the fear of the unknown snaking through her, as well. Naked shrubs and skeletal trees hovered on both sides of the thin, dirt trail but gave little shelter against the harsh sting of the bitter November wind and no indication of what lay ahead.
    Turning to Martin, she sensed rather than saw a worsening in his fragile condition. Just before they were forced out of the stockade, he’d gotten sick. The Cherokee medicine man had died the week before and left no one to take his place. Sophia hadn’t been able to sit and do nothing, so she’d asked the healer’s wife to try to perform a healing, which seemed to be working until Martin’s fever rose again. He now sat in the corner of the wagon, huddled in his thin, gray blanket. Deep lines furrowed his face and made him seem older than his almost fifty years. What bothered her most was the emptiness she saw in his dark brown eyes. Their light was gone.
    Ignoring her frozen muscles, she stepped up her pace. Half walking, half running, she caught the side of the wagon with her hand. “Martin, are you okay?” Her brow furrowed. “Martin?” she asked a little louder.
    Martin’s head rose until he met her worried gaze. “I am fine, Granddaughter. Just tired.”
    “Are you warm enough? I can give you my blanket if you’d like.”
    The corners of his dry lips tried to rise, but their upward movement stalled. He shook his head. “No, I am fine. You need the warmth.” He placed his hand on hers, still resting on the wagon’s side. “Stop worrying. You will find gray hairs.”
    A surge of emotion—unsure whether it was relief or happiness—poured through her. This was the first lighthearted comment he’d made since leaving New Echota.
    ****
    Sophia was exhausted. They had walked from sun up to sun down, no matter the weather, herded by the soldiers. She wasn’t about to complain, though, especially when so many had no blankets or shoes. Every morning she woke up to discover more people had died, young children and the elderly, their bodies too fragile to fight off the night’s freezing temperatures—and hard winter had yet to arrive. This morning had been particularly hard. While getting Martin’s morning rations, she’d stumbled over an old grandmother and her grandson, frozen to death in each other’s grip under their icy blanket.
    Shaking her head to clear the memory, she glanced up to find Bryan a few feet away, a blanket gripped in one hand, his arm limply hanging at his side. She sighed sadly and dropped her gaze back to where her hands lay in her lap.
    “You can’t save everyone, Miss Sophia.” Bryan squatted next to her and laid the blanket across her lap. “They died t’gether. Nothin’ can hurt ’em anymore.”
    She sighed. “I know you’re right.” She met his gaze, ignoring the tears blurring her vision. “He was only four,” she whispered brokenly. “He never knew what happiness was.”
    Bryan cleared his throat, but she could hear the depth of emotion in his lowered tone. “He’s happy now, playin’ and laughin’ up in God’s lands.” He wrapped his hand around hers, gave her numb fingers a small squeeze, then pulled his glove back on and stood. “Do you need help loading the wagon?”
    Her gaze traveled over the small group with whom