The One Who Waits for Me (14 page)

Swallowing, Beth crowded her horse next to the captain's mare.

“If you get much closer, you might as well ride with me,” he said under his breath.

She eased her animal back somewhat, allowing him room. Gray Eagle made a motion with his hand that Beth took as a sign of peace.

Nodding, the chief took in their ragtag party.

“We come as friends,” the scout said.

The chief's eyes moved, silently assessing each rider.

Shifting in his saddle, Gray Eagle indicated the squalling infant. “The child cries from hunger. The mother's milk does not comfort her.”

The chief's glance skimmed mother and infant. After a moment he pursed his lips and tilted his head, indicating a large tent facing the north.

Dismounting, Preach approached Trella's horse and took the child from the tearful mother's arms.

“Will he allow us to stay?” Trella asked.

Nodding, the chief's eyes pivoted to a woman who was tending a fire. “You are invited to rest. Eat.”

Beth picked up her reins and turned her mare, now following a young boy who ran ahead of the group. He led them to a field rich with green grass. Sliding off the horse, Beth lifted her arms to help Joanie down. Her frail body shook with coughing spasms. When the party returned to the camp, Beth caught an exchange between Gray Eagle and a young dark-haired woman with large, soulful eyes as they spoke in their native tongue, smiling.

Joanie leaned on Beth, and they made their way to assigned sleeping pallets in a lodge across the village. “He must know her well,” Joanie whispered.

“So it would seem.”

The scout glanced their way and offered a smile to Joanie, whose cheeks flamed a dark red. Beth tugged her forward, breaking the connection. He was indeed a fine male specimen, but she hoped her sister didn't for one minute think there might be a love match in the making. Gray Eagle had been tender to Joanie, but he'd been just as kind to Trella. She couldn't read romance into his manner. Every one of the men in their group had acted in a polite fashion. Beth eased her sister onto the comfortable pallet in the airy space.

“He is quite handsome, isn't he?” Joanie asked. Beth paused to meet her gaze. “Does the thought disturb you?”

“No. I think he's very handsome,” Beth said reluctantly.

“He's really nice too. Don't you think?”

“He's a savage, Joanie.”

Closing her eyes, Joanie took deep breaths. “Doesn't matter. I know that no man will ever love me.”

Beth fussed with the pallet. “Why would you talk such nonsense? You're a lovely woman—”

“And a very sick one.” Joanie reached in her pocket for the piece of paper Reverend Mother had sent and pressed it to her chest.

Beth recited the simple note's message to herself:
God bless Joanie
. She knew the words gave her sister great comfort.

Joanie lay back and closed her eyes. Beth dampened a soft cloth from a jar of water on a stool near the lodge's entrance and returned to wipe her sister's flushed forehead. She had no idea Joanie thought in such hopeless terms. Did she really believe she would never grow old? Never know love? Never have children? The thought saddened her. Beth would never seek love, but that was her choice. Joanie deserved to be loved.

“Don't be so morbid,” Beth scolded gently.

“What man would want to listen to this?” Joanie purposefully coughed. “For the rest of his life?”

“A
good
man.” Beth tenderly wiped flushed cheeks and runny eyes.

“You say yourself there is no such thing.”

“What do I know?” Beth wrung the cloth dry. “For me there isn't, but if you believe in this God you talk about, then perhaps He has different thoughts on the matter.” If Joanie's God did exist, wouldn't He provide a true love for her? A man who loved her—someone who wouldn't let a thing like asthma turn him away?

“I do talk to Him about it. Daily.” Joanie sighed when Beth set aside the cloth and lowered her back to the pallet. The sounds of camp life drifted around the sisters. Meat sizzling over an open fire. Women's soft voices talking among themselves as they worked to prepare the noon meal. Children darting back and forth at play, their infectious laughter filling the summer air. And yet fear grew in Beth's heart. They were safe for the time being, but what would happen when they reached the next town and the captain and his men finally did ride away?

The image of her uncle's angry face filled her vision. Walt would find them. Of that, Beth was as certain as the fragrance of perking coffee in the air.

And they would have no man's protection.

J
oanie was asleep when Beth awoke. Though it was the middle of the night, the moonlight was bright, calling Beth outside the lodge. She felt stiff from travel and thought a short walk might help her relax. Moving quietly through the sleeping village, she paused in front of the large tent where she'd seen an Indian woman enter earlier in the evening, carrying Trella's baby. Her eyes searched the immediate area, and when she saw no one she parted the canvas and stepped into the dim interior. Two nursing mothers sat before a low-burning fire, infants suckling at their breasts. One glanced up when Beth entered, her eyes questioning the newcomer.

“I thought I might help?” she said softly. She couldn't nurse the child, but she could care for Trella's infant once she was fed.

The young mother silently shook her head, but her eyes indicated the infant. For one of the first times since she was born, the baby slept in peaceful contentment, with Trella sleeping soundly beside her. Beth studied the nursing mother, one of the prettiest women she had ever seen. Hair as black as a raven's wing hung to her tiny waist. Her expressive coffee-colored eyes were welcoming without her saying a word. She patted the mat beside her, inviting Beth to sit.

Beth complied, settling on the bearskin rug cross-legged in the same fashion as her host. Smoke curled through the opening at the top of the lodge. The fire cracked. An occasional burp sounded from one of the infants being fed. Beth had never experienced such serenity. Her life had been filled with angry shouts and painful whips. This oasis was like a refreshing stream on a hot summer's day. No one spoke. Beth wouldn't have understood the Indian language, but she felt the thread of womanhood—the invisible bond of like minds as she sat in the dome interior and listened to the babies' noisy suckling. She never allowed herself to think of motherhood. She knew it would never come to her.

Witnessing men's cruelty had stripped her of all desire to marry or have children. Her sister's wish to fall in love confused her. Joanie had lived inside the same anger and fury. She had witnessed Uncle Walt's meanness and the way he had dominated their pa. Beth didn't doubt that Joanie's man was out there somewhere waiting, but love in her life? She couldn't imagine falling in love with a man.

Until that moment.

A moment when she sat among women who she hadn't known existed until a few hours earlier. She should be frightened by their strange ways, but their eyes were kind. Beth felt protected here. Her gaze shifted to the tent flap when it lifted, and she saw that Captain Montgomery was motioning her outside.

Smiling regret to her hosts, she stood and moved to the lodge opening, shaking the creases from her pants.

“What do you want?” Drawn from fanciful thoughts, she couldn't bring herself to speak with complete civility to him.

“Good to see you too.”

She tempered her response. “It's the middle of the night. Was there something you needed?” She started back toward her sleeping lodge.

He turned to walk with her. “No. I saw you walking through the village, and thought I should make sure
you
didn't need something. What were you doing in the lodge?”

“I thought I might help.”

He cast a questioning eye in her direction.

“I thought I could help care for Trella's infant while she's resting. The poor thing is exhausted.”

“Is she ever going to name the child?”

“I'm sure she will—eventually.” Nothing had been mentioned about a name, and events had happened so quickly that naming the baby had been the last thing on the escaping women's minds. “It's been a difficult few days.”

“It will be even more difficult when you reach a community.”

She let the observation pass. She knew that what lay ahead would not be easy. The two strolled slowly through the camp, keeping their voices low.

“I'm not afraid,” she finally said. She didn't want him thinking she was one of those fainthearted ninnies who flinched at the sight of hardship.

“You wouldn't be here if I thought you were in danger.” He nodded. “The real danger is still out there looking for you.”

“I know.”

“Then I don't have to worry about you slipping off to some nunnery when my back is turned?”

“No.” Though for the life of her, she couldn't imagine why he would want the aggravation of caring for a band of ragtag runaways.

“Good, because we're going to be leaving shortly.”

Her heart shot to her throat. Leaving? They couldn't leave them alone among savages.

“The men and I have been talking. It looks like the baby will have to remain here for a few weeks, and that's a real delay. Also, Joanie needs the rest. I think it's best that Gray Eagle, Preach, and I ride on. But before we go, I'll arrange for one of the men in the camp to escort you, Joanie, and Trella to the closest settlement as soon as the baby is able to tolerate cow's milk.”

“You're leaving us?” She stopped dead in her tracks. “Why can't Joanie and I come along? We won't—”

The captain held up a hand, halting her words. “Beth, Joanie is in worse shape than the baby. Surely you can hear that when she breathes.”

Beth couldn't deny the truth of what he said, yet the thought of being left behind while the men moved on frightened her. “But we can go to a town, get medical help—”

There was that hand again. “She needs rest. You won't leave her, and Trella's baby won't survive just now without a wet nurse.” Even in the dim light the compassion she saw in his eyes nearly undid her. Beth looked away. Of course she wouldn't leave her sister. Joanie was all she had left in this world.

She turned to meet his gaze again. How could he be certain that these Indians wouldn't turn on them once he rode away and hold them captive—or worse?

“You can't leave.”

“I am leaving,” he insisted, leveling a look at her. “But maybe if you told me the true nature of your flight from your home, I might be able to set your fears to rest.”

“I…I've told you. We're running away from Uncle Walt.”

“I understand that. What I don't understand is why the desperate plight? Where are your folk?”

“Dead.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Only me and Joanie. Please, Captain—”

“I've asked you to call me Pierce.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

Meeting her stubborn gaze, he shook his head. “You're a hard one to figure out.”

“I wouldn't try, Captain. But…you can't leave us here. You just can't.”

“Is it that you don't like men in general or you just don't like me in particular?”

She stiffened, waiting for a blow. Though he was smiling at her, Uncle Walt often smiled before he was about to strike. So did Bear.

“Well?”

“I…don't have anything against you personally. In general, you're all right. I don't trust other men.”

His eyes assessed her. “Care to say why not?”

“No, sir.” She kept her eyes straight ahead and her response respectful.

“You never told me your last name.”

She didn't dare reveal that. Uncle Walt was well known around these parts, and there was no telling what kind of connections the captain might have to men her uncle knew. For some reason, beets flashed through her mind and she seized one upon that.

“Beet…smoth.” She steeled herself for his response. Joanie said lies were the devil's work, but because Beth didn't know the devil or the Lord, she guessed it didn't matter.

“Beth Beetsmoth.” He tasted it on his tongue. “That's your name?”

“Yes, sir.” She didn't meet his eyes.

“Beth and Joanie Beetsmoth.”

“Yes, sir.”

He shook his head and they walked on. “Why don't I just call you Pickled Beets?”

He was mocking her now, but she couldn't let him shake her. Or leave. “Fine. Anything that pleases you.”

He paused. “All right. What other concerns do you have about us riding ahead?”

“Well…” Could she voice her true feelings? She felt somewhat safe in his presence. And yet…she couldn't quite bring herself to tell him all that had brought her and Joanie to this point, so she opted for a diversion. “Please just wait a few days. By then the baby will be stronger and we can find a way to feed her cow's milk.”