Chapter 25
Zion Encampment, Wyoming - June 1874
The harsh sunlight filtering through the window pierced Gabrielle's eyelids, dragging her back from the hazy world of unconsciousness. For days, she'd drifted in and out of a feverish oblivion, dimly aware of her surroundings but powerless to interact. Now, a sliver of awareness sparked, urging her to open her eyes.
The effort felt monumental, her eyelids heavy like lead weights. But with a resolute groan, she managed to pry them open, the blurry world slowly coming into focus. She was in a room, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.
"Hello?" Her voice, a hoarse rasp, emerged from a parched throat. It was a foreign sound, barely recognizable as her own.
A flurry of movement filled her blurry vision. A young girl, no older than twelve, with bright eyes and a braid the color of wheat in the summer sun, materialized beside her bed.
"Mama!" The girl exclaimed, her voice tinged with a joyous wonder. She reached out and grasped Gabrielle's hand, her grip surprisingly strong.
"Water?" Gabrielle croaked.
"Here." The girl propped Gabrielle's head up and tilted a cup to her lips.
"She's awake?" A woman's voice, warm and gentle, filled the room. A moment later, another face swam into view – older, with kind eyes and a reassuring smile.
"Just now, Mother," Abigail chirped, her grip tightening on Gabrielle's hand.
"Good," the woman murmured. She leaned closer, her touch cool and calming as she checked Gabrielle's forehead. With a gentle hand, she replaced the damp cloth with a fresh one. "You are going to be just fine," she said, her voice firm yet laced with a tenderness that soothed Gabrielle's anxieties.
"Thank you," Gabrielle whispered, a wave of gratitude washing over her.
"What is your name, dear?" The woman inquired, her voice soft.
"Gabrielle," she rasped, her voice stronger with each word.
"My name is Jane, this is my daughter Abigail."
A surge of panic constricted Gabrielle's chest. "Where is my sister?" She demanded, her voice rising a notch. She scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of Violette.
"We found you at the river, but you were alone," Abigail said, her voice small but her grip unwavering.
"Butte Meadows," Gabrielle whispered, the name a desperate plea. They were far from where she'd last seen Violette, the terrifying events rushing back in a dizzying wave. The fall, the icy water, the relentless current...
"Well, we are quite a few day's ride from there," Jane explained gently, pulling the blanket up to cover Gabrielle's shivering form. "You get some rest. We'll see if you can keep some broth down tonight."
"Thank you," Gabrielle whispered again as exhaustion claimed her once more, she squeezed the hand that held hers, a silent expression of gratitude for the kindness of strangers who had become her unexpected saviors.
Outside the room, Abigail's joyous smile mirrored the one on her mother's face. "Heavenly Father answered our prayers, Mother!" She exclaimed, her voice brimming with innocent faith.
"Yes, He did, my dear." Jane agreed, her heart overflowing with relief. She shut the door quietly, leaving Gabrielle to rest.