A Lady in Defiance (15 page)

“Here for a reason,” Naomi sang with flagrant sarcasm,
wondering what possible reason God could have for stripping her of her one true
love and her sanity.

Hannah tossed her braid over her shoulder and eyed her sister
disapprovingly. “If he didn’t think we could do it, he wouldn’t have sent us.
Look at that girl Daisy. What if we’re the only Believers in her life who are
ever willing to share with her. What if God sent us here”−she motioned to
the town surrounding them−“went to all this trouble−just to help
one person? Wouldn’t he do that?”

Naomi rubbed her temple, feeling the stirrings of a headache.
“He might,” she muttered, humbled by Hannah’s ever-maturing faith and
compassion. “Surely, though, there has to be more at stake here than just one
soul.” But, in her opinion, God certainly could have chosen better vessels, at
least as far as she was concerned. Naomi wasn’t exactly an eager missionary.
She only wanted to hold John again, hear him tell her he loved her, but she
would not hear his voice again this side of Heaven. Feeling broken and defeated
by Defiance, Naomi walked the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter
12

Naomi tried to shake off her melancholy mood as she stepped
out on the back stoop to check on Emilio. Watching him raise the ax over his
head, she waited for him to finish the swing. He split a piece of wood with
impressive skill and let the pieces fall to the ground. Leaving the ax lodged
in the block, he loaded the two pieces in the crook of his arm then stopped to
wipe his forehead. When he saw Naomi, she was surprised by the flood of relief
that swept across his gaunt face.

“
Senora
Naomi,” he breathed. He took an excited step
towards her and blinked. “Everything ees OK?
Si
?”

Naomi was puzzled by his strangely exuberant inquiry, but
smiled a greeting. “Yes, everything’s fine. I was wondering, Emilio, we’re
having two stoves delivered tomorrow. Do you think Mr. McIntyre will allow you
to help us again?”

 The expression on his face sobered and his shoulders
sagged. “I don’t know. Mr. McIntyre ees not so happy with me…” Then he sighed.
“Did my seester give you much problems in the store?”

Naomi couldn’t track the path of the question at first then
she sucked in a breath. “You had said your sister’s name was Rose. I can’t
believe I didn’t realize...” She cocked her head to one side. “And you were
there?”

He nodded meekly. “Outside, watching. I’m sorry if she did
anything to you. I told her I didn’t want to tell things on you, that she
should leave you alone but…” he looked heavenward as if he couldn’t bear
Naomi’s gaze. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what ees the
matter with her.”

Feeling a little betrayed, Naomi gazed past the boy, across
the backyard and the stream, to the mountains, and into the past. But it did no
good to dwell there. She didn’t have control over her life; Emilio didn’t have
any control over that monster he called a sister. Glad to let some compassion
crowd out her grief, at least for the moment, she shrugged. “We’d still like
you to stay for dinner…if you will.”

Hannah had draped her fabric around herself and was parading
about the room like a queen as Rebecca laid sewing items out on the bed. Naomi
trudged up the stairs and stopped a few steps from the top, watching them
quietly over the top of the banister. She felt, and probably looked, awfully
crestfallen, wondering if there was such a thing as honor or truth in Defiance.
But watching her little sister whirling around in what would be a new dress
with a loose, comfortable fit, cheered Naomi considerably. Hannah’s joy had
always been infectious.

Smiling, Naomi dropped her elbows on the banister and rested
her chin on her hands. “Well, that makes the encounter with the she-devils well
worth it. You’ll be beautiful and comfortable.”

“Oh, it will feeeel so much better,” Hannah sang with
delight. “I can’t wait to get a few finished.”

Naomi started to offer a compliment on Rebecca’s seamstress
skills, but decided her older sister looked too distracted. With an intent,
somber expression, Rebecca pulled straight pins from a new box and carefully
stuck them into the pin cushion on her wrist. Naomi would have been willing to
bet she was imagining Hannah’s future here. No dress, even one tailored to fit
a horse, would hide the situation forever. 

Hannah stopped spinning and eyed her sisters with suspicion.
“My, you both have the most serious looks on your faces.”

Naomi scratched her nose thoughtfully then changed positions
from peering over the banister to taking the last few steps up to their level.
Leaning back on the rail, she folded her arms and shared her stunning news.
“That she-devil Rose is Emilio’s sister. He’s been spying on us.” Naomi watched
the confusion play out on her sisters’ faces. “I think he only did it because
if he didn’t, she’d strangle him. So I asked him to stay for dinner anyway.”

Rebecca took a few steps back and plopped down on the bed.
“Spying? What could he tell her? It’s not like we’re hiding anything.”

“That’s exactly why I invited him. We don’t have anything to
hide. At least not after the melodrama in the general store.”

Hannah started wringing the material in her hands as if it
were a wet wash rag. “What if Rose is as mean to Emilio as she is to everyone
else?” she asked, sounding heartbroken for the boy. “That girl Daisy told me
she practices witchcraft. But she said she uses it mostly to scare people.”

Rebecca’s head shot up at that news. “She certainly has a
flare for the dramatic. I could see where she would flaunt something like that
for the effect of it, whether she believes it or not. Oh, poor Emilio,” she
lamented, shoulders drooping. “He probably witnesses the most unimaginable
things in that saloon.” Rebecca’s lip trembled and she flung an almost
accusatory glance at Naomi. “The poor darling. Of course you should have
invited him to dinner.”

Naomi pulled back a bit at her sister’s emphatic reaction.
“Well, it’s not that I didn’t think we should invi−”

“Do you suppose she beats him?” Hannah interrupted. Mindful
of the items on the bed, she dropped down beside Rebecca, eyes reflecting the
horror of the possibilities.

Rebecca shook her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me.” She sat up
straighter and stuck out her chin. “We’ll just have to tell Mr. McIntyre the
boy’s become indispensable to us.”

Hannah excitedly clutched her hands over her heart. “Yes,
maybe we could hire him away. He doesn’t need to work there. I’m sure we need
him more than Mr. McIntyre does.”

Naomi rubbed her arms and simply listened as her sisters cut
her out of the conversation and eagerly devised a scheme to save Emilio from
his bleak and dreary existence. She had been so sure there would not be one
soul in this town worth caring about, and then they had met a young orphaned
Mexican boy. His dark eyes reminded her of melted chocolate and his sad life
did make her want to take him under their roof.

As Rebecca and Hannah bantered ideas back and forth on how to
do just that, Naomi considered Rose and what she would think of her little
brother making friends with crazy, Christian, Bible-toters. She suspected she
wouldn’t like it−not one little cauldron-boiling bit.

~~~

McIntyre knocked on the inn’s door, but when no one
responded, he and Ian let themselves in. For a fleeting, heavenly moment the
two turned up their noses and enjoyed the heady smell of truly good
home-cooking. Biscuits. Roast. Potatoes. McIntyre’s stomach growled
enthusiastically. They also heeded the sound of female chatter and giggles and
the clatter of dishes as they prepared the meal. Simple, innocent sounds. By
all accounts, the men in Defiance were keeping their distance now and the
sisters were settling in nicely. That fact pleased him, though he couldn’t say
why.

“Aye, that’s pleasant.” Ian grinned as a wistful contentment
settled on his face. “The sound of girlish laughter. Reminds me o’ my sisters
back in Sco’land.”

McIntyre marveled over the fact that women still spoke to
each other with such cheerfulness and kindness. He had an irksome suspicion
that being around soiled doves for nearly two decades was making him more
unsuitable for genteel company than he had imagined. Pushing away such
irrelevant thoughts, he called out to announce their arrival. “Mrs. Miller,
ladies…”

The noise in the kitchen ceased abruptly and Naomi stepped out
from the apartment, wiping her hands on a towel. McIntyre did not miss the
lightning flash from cheerfulness for Ian to disdain for him. She flashed a
wide smile. “Mr. Donoghue.” The smiled faded. “Mr. McIntyre. What can we do for
you gentlemen?”

Eagerly, Ian waved his completed blueprints and walked
forward, leaving McIntyre trailing. He was not accustomed to bringing up the
rear and made a note not to let it happen again. “I’ve finished the plans, and
Mr. McIntyre and I have some things we’d like to discuss with ye, if no’ is a
good time. If we’re interruptin’ din−”

“Have you eaten?” A gracious, if not slightly cool, smile
returned to her face. Neither of them had and their hesitation in responding
answered her question. “Come join us and we can talk over dinner.”

The two men entered the crowded little apartment and absorbed
its warm smells and warmer atmosphere. McIntyre was stunned to find Emilio
setting a tray of hot cornbread on the felt-topped gaming table and raised his
brow. “I didn’t know you cooked, Emilio.”

The boy nodded awkwardly then stepped away from the table
waiting for something else to do. The other girls greeted the two new guests
with bright smiles, but Rebecca’s melted away with a gasp. “Chairs, we don’t
have enough chairs…We can use the small flower bar¬rel.” She pointed at the
barrel against the wall behind Ian. He immediately lifted it up and placed it
at the table. “And there’s a crate…” Hand on her hip, Rebecca looked around the
room which was a jumble of stacked boxes. She found an empty one and handed it
to Emilio.

They pulled the makeshift seating together and everyone sat
down. McIntyre took the opposite side of the table from Naomi and Ian squeezed
between him and Rebecca. Hannah and Emilio were off to McIntyre’s right. The irony
of eating a simple, wholesome meal around a piece of furniture that normally
supported some pretty weighty sins wasn’t lost on him. As he pondered the vice
and corruption that had no doubt occurred here, the sisters locked hands to
pray. Rebecca reached to her right and took Ian’s hand. Awkwardly, Emilio
accepted Hannah’s hand. Then, looking as if he would rather crawl under the
table, the boy hesitantly extended his other hand to McIntyre. McIntyre found
himself caught between Emilio’s outstretched hand and Ian’s and felt as awkward
as a prostitute in church. Grinning hugely, obviously enjoying his friend’s
distress, Ian grabbed McIntyre’s hand and motioned for him to take Emilio’s.

His discomfort was not lost on a waiting Naomi. “We’d like to
say the blessing.” She nodded towards Emilio’s hand. “I don’t think he’ll bite
you.” Feeling foolish and all too equal with Emilio, a mere boy who slept on a
cot in the back of his saloon, McIntyre grudgingly did as he was bid. Together,
the group bowed their heads and waited.

Rebecca offered the blessing. “Father, thank you for being
the Savior to all men and thank you for the precious blood Jesus willingly
spilt on the cross. Thank you for the meal we’re enjoying tonight, as well as
the special fellowship with our new neighbors and friends and we just ask that
you would bless this meal. In your Son’s name we pray. Amen.”

McIntyre released the hands a little too quickly and grabbed
his napkin off the table as the food started circulating. Eager to find
familiar footing in this uncomfortable situation, he jumped right into
business. “We stopped by, Mrs. Miller to discuss with you and your
sisters−”

“First,” Ian waved his hand over the table. “We’ve to thank
our lovely hostesses for this enchantin’ meal.” He eyed Rebecca. “I canna
remember the last time food smelled this good. I’ll live on the beauty of the
aroma, even if it tastes like sawdust.” He winked at her and grinned. “Though I
doubt tha’ll be the case.”

Trying to hold back her own grin, she passed him the mashed
potatoes. “Well, we are planning on opening a restaurant. At least one of us
had better be able to cook.”

“We already know which one of us can’t.” The good-natured jab
from Hannah extracted a giggle from her and Rebecca, but Naomi’s face hardened.

“I can at least make good biscuits,” Naomi argued weakly.
Clearly displeased they were discussing her lack of culinary talents, Naomi
took a lazy bite of cornbread. Momentarily, a look of ecstasy flooded her face.
“Oh, but this cornbread is heavenly, Emilio.” She waved the piece in the air
and spoke with an unlady-like mouthful. “Mr. McIntyre, you’ve been very
generous letting Emilio spend so much time helping us, but now that we know
he’s handy in the kitchen−”

“Yes, it’s
quite
clear there are several good cooks
present.” His overly loud comment laced with irritation brought the activity at
the table to a standstill. He felt the urge to apologize for his brusqueness,
but fought it. “Their talents, however, will go to waste if we do not tend to
the business of getting this restaurant open.”