The One Who Waits for Me (18 page)

“How is Joanie?” the sister said.

Beth was a bit startled at the change in topic. She wanted to get to the bottom of this puzzle.

“Is she doing better?”

Beth sighed and said, “Yes, one of the men traveling with us has been giving her lobelia tea.”

The sister snapped her finger. “We should have thought of that. Sister Patrilla is our herbalist, but she's very old and sleeps late. If you had remained after morning prayers, I'm certain she could have helped.”

“I'm sorry. You all were very kind, but at that time we felt that we had to leave.”

The nun nodded, the wide straw brim of her hat bobbing with the motion of her head. “It is good to know that you're nearby. Will you stay a few days?”

“Yes. At least until Trella's baby can take milk from a cow.”

The sister's infectious laugh filled the quiet meadow. “That sounds as though it could take a while, though I wouldn't know. I was an only child.”

Grinning, Beth thought she would have liked to have known Sister Mary Margaret as a child, though in many ways her personality was still childlike. Trusting. Joyful. Beth found that she'd formed an instant bond with the merry sister.

“I should be going. They will wonder where I went,” Mary Margaret said.

“Oh, me too.”

The sister giggled. “I have rows and rows to plant and care for. It's my second planting this year, and Reverend Mother thinks I'm a bit of a scatterbrain.” She glanced up, shading her eyes from the hot sun. “It will be time for lunch soon.” She turned back. “May I tell the others I've seen you?”

Beth hesitated. She didn't want to put the convent in danger. If Walt and Bear came upon them, there was no telling what they would do if they knew the nuns had befriended her and Joanie.

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn't.”

Nodding, the sister pretended to button her lips. Then she giggled. “I'm here every day. That is, any day I'm not off chasing butterflies and it doesn't rain. If you want company, walk to the garden.” She turned and pointed up the hill, where rows of flowering vines could be seen. No one else was there.

“Do you work alone?” Beth asked.

The plot seemed to be quite large. It looked to be a backbreaking chore for one person to manage.

“Yes, but it's no problem. I'm the youngest in the order. The others are old and feeble, so I take on the heavier tasks. This patch is string beans and turnips. I leave the peas, tomatoes, and squash in other locations easier to reach. Don't be afraid to visit me here. No one else will see you.”

Beth thought of all the long, blistering days, months, and years she'd toiled in the cotton fields and of the barbs that had left her hands raw and bloody. Beans and turnips would be heaven. She turned to meet the nun's face. The least she could do would be to help out while she was here. She accepted the offer.

“I'll come back tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!” Mary Margaret set her wimple more securely in place. “I pray that God will shower you with blessings this beautiful day.” She winked. “But not rain. I have to get those turnips hoed.”

“Thank you.” Beth wanted to return the lovely wish, but before she could be asking God for anything, she needed someone to convince her He was there. And prayer? That was downright confusing. It seemed to her that praying wasn't as simple as getting down on her knees beside the bed and talking. Maybe she needed some smooth wooden beads.

She made a mental note to ask Pierce what he thought of the matter. He seemed knowledgeable and, so far, she thought, he'd been honest with her.

Skirting the bank, she headed toward camp, aware she'd been gone a few hours. Joanie would undoubtedly be wondering where she was.

Hoofbeats sounded on the road behind the line of heavy thicket. Beth stepped in closer to the tangled vegetation. Most likely it was a passing farmer who'd pay little attention to the stream, but she couldn't be too careful. The realization that she was alone again quickened her pace. She wished the captain were with her—but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it irked her.

Then the crack of a gunshot shattered the silence.

Beth's hands came up to cover her mouth. Bear? She hadn't heard or seen anything of him for days, though Pierce had said he was still in the area.

Dropping to her knees, she hugged the riverbed, crawling deeper into the dense brush. She should have known her cousin would never give up. He was as deranged and greedy as Uncle Walt. A second shot rang out, the bullet grazing a thatch of weeds not far away. He was outright trying to kill her, and Pierce and Gray Eagle were nowhere around.

She pulled herself along on her belly, determined to survive. The sisters would hear the shots and come to investigate, wouldn't they? Or the Cherokee? If she could elude the oaf five more minutes, help would be on the way.

A third shot rang out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she eased though the thicket. Her heart pounded so loudly that she feared Bear would hear its erratic thumping and immediately spot her.

When she paused to catch her breath, she heard the sound of heavy boots thrashing now through the brush. Pressing close to the ground, she shut her eyes and lay as still as a corpse.

The footfalls ceased.

Beth could feel her cousin's beady eyes roaming the area, searching for her. How had he found her? The vegetable patch couldn't be seen from the road. She had taken great pains to heed Pierce's order to stay off the main path. Now he would be angry with her. She winced, trying to quiet her breaths so Bear wouldn't hear her.

Silence. No footfalls. Or gunshots. Just silence. Where was he? Towering above her, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence?

Opening one eye, she studied the ground. No shadow appeared. A meadowlark flittered in and out of the brush above.

She stayed immobile until she thought she'd burst, terrified to move, but finally she couldn't remain still a moment longer. She hadn't heard a sound for more than fifteen minutes. Perhaps he'd given up and moved on. She sat up, her eyes sweeping the empty meadow. No one was there. She waited another few minutes, but still no one appeared.

Finally, drained of emotion, she got to her feet. Neither a nun nor an Indian had come to check out the source of the gunshots.

Bending, she dusted grass and twigs off the front of her clothing and then again hugged the river bank as she started back to camp.

Glancing to the right, she spotted a small clearing, and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Bear, wearing Pierce's blue uniform, bent over a large deer, field dressing the animal. How could he have gotten the uniform? Her hands flew to her mouth as realization dawned. Of course! Bear had shot Pierce and taken his clothing!

At least he hadn't spotted her. He'd been shooting at the fresh meat.

Suddenly, pain from years of abuse and ill-treatment rose to the surface. She couldn't just leave—she wanted to get even. If she could surprise the brute and knock him out cold, she could have a little retaliation for some of the misery he caused both her and Joanie. Her heart also ached for the poor captain lying wounded—maybe even dead—somewhere.

Glancing around for a large rock, she located one and picked it up. Bear was still bent over the deer, his knife slicing through the hide. No doubt he thought he was the only person around. He was so involved in his work he probably wouldn't have heard a train approaching.

Lifting the rock above her head, she took aim and swung, striking a blow against the back of his head. He toppled like a felled oak.

Anger drained, she stood back, realizing she might have killed him. She shuddered. That certainly wasn't her intention. Creeping close, she checked his pulse and detected a strong steady beat. Good. She exhaled a long sigh. Bear was ornery, but she didn't want to be the cause of his death. He'd have a head as swollen as a watermelon for a few days…her eyes skimmed the motionless form and rested on his shirt and trousers.

How could he have overcome the captain? Pierce was a formidable man. The thought of him sprawled somewhere caused heat to fill her cheeks. She ought to give her cousin a knot on the other side of his head!

Rolling him face up, she gasped. Pierce? A dot of blood oozed from the blow she'd inflicted. “Pierce?” she said, trying to bring him around. She lightly tapped both cheeks. “Captain? Pierce?” When there was no response, she raced to the stream, tore off a strip of cloth from her petticoat, soaked it in the water, and raced back. Removing his hat, she bathed the man's face with the fabric and apologized, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought you were Bear.”

Coming around rapidly, Pierce opened his eyes.

“Oh, thank You, God.” That brought her up short. Had she just acknowledged God? Tingles flooded her.

Slowly sitting up, he rubbed the rising knot on the back of his head. “What…happened?”

“I…you've been unconscious.” How could she tell him she had deliberately struck him?

“Out cold? I was cleaning a deer…”

“I know. And…and…what a fine deer!” She turned to admire the prize. If she diverted his attention to something else…

He focused on her. “Beth, what are you doing here?”

Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms and said in a stern tone, “Well, what are
you
doing here? You are supposed to be…” She didn't know where he was supposed to be. Just not here.

He rubbed his head, wincing. “Gray Eagle and I were on the way to cut wood when my horse threw a shoe. I told him to ride on. Then I spotted the deer and thought the sisters would enjoy some fresh meat.” He turned to her and said, “Seriously, Beth. What are
you
doing here, alone and outside the camp?”

She cleared her throat and glanced away before meeting his eyes. “I took a walk and ran into Sister Mary Margaret. She takes care of the abbey's bean and turnip garden.” She pointed to the patch up the hill. “I told her I'd come back tomorrow to help.” She was chattering now. Definitely chattering.

He slowly rose to his feet, still rubbing the injury. For the moment he appeared to have forgotten to ask how the blow had occurred.

She said, “Do you have an extra knife?”

He glanced at her. “Why?”

“I'll help you.”

“You can dress a deer?”

The question was almost comical. Pa had had a weak stomach, so she, Ma, and Joanie had dressed all the fresh kills. “I can,” she said. “As well as any man.”

“I'd appreciate the help. I'll get you a knife.” He walked toward his horse on unsteady feet. Beth waited beside the deer as a sense of regret moved through her. Regret that Bear hadn't gotten what was coming to him. Regret the captain had taken Bear's punishment.

The feeling fled as dread crowded her throat. She would have to tell the captain she had struck him. How would he react?

Pierce returned carrying a second skinning knife. Together they set to work cutting away the hide. Beth's feelings confused her. On the one hand, she was relieved it was Pierce and not Bear she'd encountered. On the other, she didn't especially like the emotions the captain caused in her. Squishy, girlie feelings. And always the sense that she was safe in his presence. She'd never been around a man like that before. He was kind and generous. Never mean to her. How could that be?

Stripping the hide from the carcass, she set it aside, knowing the Indians would value the gift.

“Pierce?”

He glanced over. “Yes?”

“I…” She drew in a deep breath and then winced as she finished. “I hit you from behind.”

He cut a large steak from the hind quarters. “I figured as much,” he said, with no trace of malice in his voice. “Care to tell me why?”

“I didn't know it was you.”

“So you go around knocking strangers out cold with rocks? I know you have a thing about men, but I didn't know you carried it this far.”

“No…it wasn't…I thought you were Bear.”

His knife instantly paused. “Has he been around this morning?”

“Not that I know of, but you warned me to be cautious. So I had it in my head that he might be…and I was being cautious.”

“You darn near killed me!”

“I wasn't going to kill you—or Bear, even. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Give him a knot he wouldn't forget.”

Pierce touched the back of his head again with his probing hand. “Job accomplished.”

“I'm truly sorry.” She met his eyes. “But was it hard enough? I mean, if it had been Bear instead of you? Because he has been a thorn in my side since the day I was born.”

“Oh, indeed. You taught him a lesson he won't soon forget.”

She flashed a grin. “Thanks.”

“Glad to be of service.”

They worked in comfortable silence for a while before Beth picked up the conversation again. “If you're from around here, why did you fight for the North?”