The One Who Waits for Me (11 page)

“He won't give up,” Joanie said.

Beth swallowed, knowing her sister was right. Even Joanie's prayers couldn't accomplish that hope.

The captain's eyes returned to Beth. “Cat got your tongue?”

Beth drew a deep breath. Disrespectful man. She reached for her sister's hand. “We're leaving now. If you would be so kind as to give our friend the message?” She nudged Joanie into a walk. The two women set off, Beth aware of the men's eyes on their backs.

“Don't you think we should at least let them take us to the next community?” Joanie whispered.

“We'd only be asking for more trouble—”

“Oh, ladies?” Pierce called.

The sisters turned simultaneously.

“I feel obligated to tell you that though your uncle isn't in the area, we did run across that rascally cousin—Bear, is it? He's a couple of miles down the road, in case you're interested.”

Mounting up on their horses, Pierce and Gray Eagle turned in the opposite direction and started moving off.

“Wait!” the women chorused. Beth shot Joanie an exasperated look. “See why I don't trust men?” she hissed. The brute wouldn't be satisfied until he forced his help on them. “All right. Tell him we'll ride with him to the next community. But that's where we'll part company. We'll ride no farther.” Surely she could put up with the impossible man a few more hours.

“You tell him.” Joanie crossed her arms over her chest, coughing.

Beth hardened her look. “You know I don't deal with men. You tell him.”

“No. You tell him.”

Heaving a betrayed sigh, Beth stepped around her and walked back to face the captain, who had stopped and turned his horse around. Their gazes locked. She cleared her throat. “We'll go with you.”

He flashed a white grin. “I thought you might.”

She had no intentions of engaging in a sparring match with him. “Sir—”

“Sir?” He quirked a brow.

Lowering her head, she amended, “Captain.”

“How about Pierce? That's my name.”

“Sir,” she repeated, “if you would be so kind as to escort us with our friend and her baby to the next community we would…thank you.”

Sobering, he said quietly, “We'd be most pleased to do that, Beth.” He glanced toward the thicket. “But first I recommend that you return the sisters' garments. They don't have clothing to spare.”

Eyes downcast, Beth said quietly, “Yes, sir.” She sighed deeply. Once again she found herself at this man's mercy.

A circumstance she was bound to regret.

G
ray Eagle took Joanie back to camp, and Pierce and Beth headed back to the abbey. Before parting company, Joanie had gladly taken off her black gown and wimple and handed them to her sister.

Beth was not happy about the arrangement. From behind Pierce on his horse, she said, “This is so unfair. I would have returned the gowns eventually.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

“Take me back to camp,” she demanded. How could she face the sisters after they had been so kind to her and she'd returned that kindness by taking what didn't belong to her? But she'd left money. Surely that wasn't considered stealing. In a quiet voice she said, “I can't face them.”

“Oh, but you can,” he corrected. “I think the good sisters are due an apology.”

“From me?”

“Did Joanie take the gowns?”

“Partly.” That wasn't exactly true.

“But mostly it was your idea.”

“Mostly,” she conceded. She didn't care what he thought about her. “We needed a disguise.”

“So you helped yourself to the nuns' habits.”

Beth ignored his goading. He wasn't worth the effort. Somehow, she and Joanie would escape him and the others and then be on their way. Joanie couldn't last forever traveling in this heat, and while the men appeared helpful, they were a headache.

The two rode in silence until Beth decided to speak her mind. She could do that; he hadn't taken a whip to her yet. And so what if he struck her? It wouldn't be the first time a man hit her. “I don't feel I've done anything…much…that requires me to apologize to the nuns.” Her cheeks warmed at the thought of standing in front of those lovely women and admitting that she had stolen their clothing.

“You think not?”

“No. I refuse.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. I won't make a fool of myself, and you can't make me.”

“We'll see.”

“Don't ‘we'll see' me, Mr. Montgomery.”

“We'll see.”

He was so aggravating! Before she knew what she was doing, she had doubled her fist and whacked him across his shoulders—broad shoulders. Incredibly muscular shoulders. And then her life flashed before her eyes. He was the first man she'd ever talked back to, much less struck.

Stiffening, he said in a tight tone, “Beth, I feel compelled to warn you that my patience is not limitless.” He shifted closer to the saddle horn.

“And mine isn't either. We don't need your help. We were doing just fine on our own.”

“You were singing a different tune when we picked you out of that burning field. And when I didn't turn you over to your uncle and cousin when we met them on the road.”

“I needed your help then,” she admitted. Her conscience pricked her. How could she be so ungrateful? She sighed. “I do thank you for intervening, both times, but now that Walt and Bear aren't in sight, we can carry on from here.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That's good to know. Just think of this as my kind way of intervening again—on your behalf. You said you eventually planned to return the nuns' clothes, didn't you?”

She couldn't really argue with that. It was the truth, but she didn't know how she would have accomplished the task.

He shrugged. “Just being helpful.”

It irked her that she didn't have a good argument. She pursed her lips and set her gaze straight ahead, refusing to say another word.

They approached the convent, and before Beth knew what happened she was standing in front of Reverend Mother.

“Well, Beth. How good to see you again so soon.” Reverend Mother smiled.

“I'm…sorry, ma'am. I borrowed two gowns—”

“You
took
two gowns without permission,” Pierce corrected.

Shooting him a miffed look, she modified her confession. “My sister and I helped ourselves to a couple of gowns from a wardrobe closet. We left money…”

Reverend Mother's eyes looked pointedly at the stolen garments.

“And I planned to wash both garments and return them…”

The nun's eyes skipped to Pierce.

“I will repay the cost if any harm was done,” Pierce offered.

“That won't be at all necessary. We have ample cloth.” She focused on a quivering Beth. “Would you like to keep the gowns?”

Beth's gaze dropped. “No, ma'am. But thank you.”

“Why don't you both come in out of the heat.”

The sister stepped aside, and Beth and Pierce entered the cool foyer, but not without her mouthing the words to the annoying man beside her. “See? She isn't upset.”

Pierce crossed his arms over his chest and pasted a smug look on his face.

It was enough to make Beth want to smack him again.

T
he nuns told Beth that washing the robes would be sufficient penance for the offense. They provided a rain barrel and soap and let her launder both garments. Then Reverend Mother insisted that Beth and Pierce stay for dinner. They couldn't exactly refuse. And then, once the enjoyable meal was complete, Beth set to work washing dishes.

“How did you say your parents died?” Sister Mary Margaret asked.

Beth wished she had inherited some of Joanie's skill with words. She'd never developed the art of deceit—not that Joanie had a deceitful bone in her body, but she had a knack for speaking the truth without being entirely truthful, telling a person what was good about them without having to add on what rubbed her the wrong way. Beth felt somehow that she couldn't tell this woman they were running away from kin. She was afraid the nun wouldn't understand that Walt and Bear were vicious men. “Ma passed last week. Pa followed shortly afterward.”

“And what was the nature of their illnesses?”

“The fever took them. It all happened so quickly.”

Mary Margaret wiped a dish and set it aside. “Do you have other siblings?”

“No. It's just me and Joanie.”

“What do you intend to do now? Have you worked in the cotton fields all your life?”

“Yes, ma'am, but Joanie knows how to read and write.” Beth dried a skillet. “She's sickly with asthma. Our ma was a schoolteacher before she married Pa. She taught Joanie how to read and write—though my uncle never knew. Because my sister couldn't pick every day, Ma educated her in the basics. She figured that the asthma would prevent her from working in the fields permanently, and she wanted her to have the means to survive when she was older.”

Beth set the skillet aside. She'd tried to converse with Joanie's adeptness. Everything she'd said was true, but not exactly as she told it. She hadn't mentioned the fire or who had set it. If anyone ever found out that the fire wasn't accidental, Walt would surely make her life more miserable than it was. The truth certainly wasn't as simple as washing out a robe and eating a free meal.

The nun gave her a sympathetic smile, and yet Beth's pulse still quickened and fear gripped her soul. There would be no future unless she and Joanie took their destiny into their own hands.

Sighing, Mary Margaret said, “Captain Montgomery seems very nice, but I would feel better if you had a female chaperone. I would offer to go with you, but Reverend Mother doesn't like for me to be away. I could ask one of the other sisters to ride with you to the next town, but I fear most of our order are old now and not up to long trips.”

“I appreciate your kindness,” Beth said, “but the captain and his men have been most respectful, and we're hoping there's a settlement nearby.”

The sister paused. “We don't go into town much. We grow most of what we eat, and the Indians who are close by shoot our game for us. We have a milk cow, and we keep a few pigs that we butcher in the fall. Our hens supply us with plenty of eggs. The Cherokee also bring us our flour, coffee, and sugar. I've never questioned where it comes from.”

Oh, to have such luxuries at the tips of your fingers
, Beth thought longingly.

After the dishes were finished, Reverend Mother asked to see Beth in her office. Rays of sunlight filtered into the room through high windows. It was another peaceful, inviting place. Sitting at her desk, Reverend Mother reached for a pen and wrote something on one sheet of paper and then another. Because she couldn't read, Beth had no idea what the words said.

Reverend Mother handed Beth both pieces of paper. Smiling, she read the simple inscriptions aloud. “This one says, ‘God bless Beth.'” She pointed to the other one and said, “This one says, ‘God bless Joanie.'”

Beth was so surprised that she caught back a sob. God bless her? How could He bless her when she wasn't sure He existed? And if He did, He sure wouldn't hold with her ways. “Thank you,” she whispered as she stuffed the sheets into her pants pocket. She'd give Joanie hers the moment she got back to camp. It would make her feel…blessed.

“Do you and your sister have anything to wear other than men's clothing?”

“We each have a dress and a change of underthings and nightclothes. That's all.”

The nun shook her head. “I wish I had more to give you, but we have nothing to offer but the gowns you took—”