Journey of the Eagle

by Priscilla A. Maine

Danielle Alexander's life has suddenly turned upside down. On a wagon train to California to join her fiance, her father falls terminally ill. Add to that a motherless newborn half-breed baby boy dropped literally into her arms by a wise, ancient Indian chief, who wants her to be the baby's mother "just until" her fiance comes to rescue her. Throw in, for good measure, a heady attraction to a handsome stranger named Joel Riley now making his fortune in the untamed west by providing lumber from his sawmill. Danielle certainly has her hands full, and her truant fiance is the least of her problems.

ISBN 1-59431-216-8 Historical/Western/Romance

Cover Art by master artist Skip Rowell With updates by Priscilla A. Maine



Chapter One

"Papa, what if Alan has changed his mind?" Danielle asked.

Nathaniel Alexander shifted the leather lead lines in his big hands before responding to his daughter's question. "What if you have, you mean."

"Well, it's been months since Alan left for California. A lot of things could have happened to make him change his mind about our engagement." Danielle refused to look up at her father, knowing he knew her too well to hide her doubts from him for long.

"If he loves you, no amount of time nor distance will change his feelings." Nathaniel wiped sweat from his brow. "Daughter, it's normal to have uncertainties. Marriage is a big step and shouldn't be taken lightly."

When he paused, Danielle glanced up and noticed her father flexing the fingers of his left hand. Moisture beaded his forehead, though the morning wasn't unduly warm. She also observed the paleness of his skin. "Are you having that pain in your chest again, Papa?"

"Don't try to change the subject on me, young lady. My health is no cause for concern." Again, he swiped his brow. "You are the one I'm worried about." From his perch on the wagon's seat, Nathaniel watched his daughter walking beside the team. "Danielle, remember it's never too late to--"

When her father didn't finish his sentence, Danielle looked up and saw him clutching his chest, his face a purplish hue and contorted with pain. "Papa! Someone help me!" She grabbed for the reins dangling over the side of the wagon. Her fingers had barely locked about the leather straps when she heard a horse galloping toward her. She turned toward the sound, expecting to find the Wagon Master or another of the men from the train. Instead, the rider was someone she didn't know. But before she had time to ponder the situation further, her billowing skirts tangled about her legs causing her to stumble, then fall. In a cloud of dust and yards of gingham, her bottom smacked the hard-packed ground, but her fingers still clutched the lines to the horses.

"Are you hurt, ma'am?" a deep, husky voice asked.

Before she could catch her breath to reply, she felt him jerk her skirt-tent away. She looked up into the most striking green eyes she'd ever seen, and they seemed to be devouring her. Even in her distraught condition, those eyes held her captive longer than they should. She felt an unfamiliar tightening in the lower region of her stomach and a flutter in her heart.

"Here, let me help you." Strong hands pulled her to her feet, leaving her only inches from his broad chest. A heady masculine scent filled her nostrils, disturbing her even more. "You all right?"

That baritone voice snatched her to her senses. "Papa." She whirled about, almost losing her balance until strong fingers locked about her upper arm, steadying her. Danielle refused to look into those hypnotic eyes again. "Help him, please."

"What's going on here?" David Sutton, the Wagon Master, asked, stepping around the end of the wagon. "Why are you stopping?"

"It's Papa. I think he's sick," Danielle replied, welcoming the reassuring presence of someone she knew.

"Go get Henry to help me with him," Sutton instructed before turning to the stranger.

Danielle dashed off in search of Henry Logan. Henry, the youngest of three brothers traveling with the wagon train, had been helping Danielle and her father the past two weeks. Ever since the loss of one of the Logan's own wagons, Nathaniel had hired the young man to spare Danielle from the heavier duties of harnessing and unharnessing the team, and gathering wood for their cook fire. The young man had even started taking his meals with the Alexanders in the evenings. In those passing weeks, Danielle had caught Henry watching her when he thought she wasn't aware of his presence. She suspected the young man was forming more than a casual interest in her, but had brushed the suspicion aside.

When she and Henry arrived back at the Alexander wagon, they found Nathaniel lying on a folded quilt in the shade of a nearby oak tree. Reassured by the fact her father was now conscious, she whisper his name. "Papa." Kneeling beside the makeshift bed, she took his hand in hers and new alarm raced through her at the heat emanating from his flesh.

"It's all right, daughter. I just need to rest a bit." The weakness in his voice sent a ripple of fear down her spine.

"You need a doctor," Danielle replied, hoping her voice didn't reveal the fear she felt. What on earth would she do if anything happened to him? He was the only family she had. Her mother had died when Danielle was nine, her grandparents soon afterward. It had been just her and her father these past ten years. She couldn't imagine being without him.

"Mr. Riley here has offered to send a doctor out to check on your father, ma'am," the Wagon Master said.

Danielle looked up and, realizing Mr. Sutton was referring to the green-eyed stranger, smiled weakly. "Tell him to hurry please."

"I'll do that, ma'am," the man said. He tipped his hat and shifted his attention briefly to Henry Logan. He then turned and walked to his horse, gathered up the reins and mounted. "The Depot on Boggy is only two miles west of here. If he's not out on a call, Doc Fulton should be here within the hour, Mr. Logan."

Danielle wondered why he addressed this information to Henry, though it was only a fleeting thought. Her main concern centered on her father. But in the silence that followed the man's departure, Danielle found herself wondering if she would ever see him again. Almost immediately she chastised herself. Why should it matter? Yet, she knew it did.