The One Who Waits for Me (21 page)

“And He did.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Not in my time frame, but He sent you along, and that's all that counts.”

Preach's heart lurched. Any one of the thousands of soldiers returning from the war could have been on that road that day, but her words gave him pause. Common sense should tell her that life was never going to be easy, and yet she had faith. His pa convinced him in his youth that everything that happened had a purpose, but had he seen such an expression of belief as this before?

“I surely do appreciate the compliment, but I'm not a miracle or an answer to your prayer. I can't do anything other than see that you and Esther get to the next town safely.”

“That's miracle enough for me,” she said. “I was certain I would never leave the plantation and that I'd go on having men's babies and pickin' cotton the rest of my life.” Her eyes rested on her sleeping infant. “But God thought otherwise.”

Shaking his head, Preach said softly, “Do you have a last name?”

“I did—once. It was Jones.”

“Trella Jones.”

Lifting a shoulder, she added, “I remember someone calling out to my pa one afternoon. The man said, ‘Have a fine day, Mr. Jones!'”

A smile broke across Preach's mahogany features and his eyes traced the girl's delicate face. She was a rose picked from a thorny field. It angered him to hear of the men who had taken advantage of her. “Your pa must have been real likeable.”

“I can't say. I was young when he died—they all died. Pa caught the ague, then Ma, and then Grandpa and Grandma. I remember how sickly they were, out of their heads with fever for days. I was an only child. I also recall that Ma was quiet as a moth. She never uttered a word unless she was spoken to.”

“So you take after her,” he teased. “You and Beth contribute less to a conversation than any women I've ever met.”

She lay back on her elbow. “Well, I never saw the need for small talk. Guess I am like my ma.” She glanced over and met his dancing eyes. “I'm talking to you.”

“You surely are.” He smiled happily. “Are you enjoying the conversation?”

“Indeed.” She was silent a moment, and then she said, “And so is Esther. She hasn't been this content since she was born.”

Settling back himself, Preach shared a compatible silence with Trella and little Esther.

Esther. He gazed with love at the newborn. A fine name if he did say so himself.

J
oanie opened her eyes when a warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Gray Eagle?” she said when she realized who it was.

“I'm sorry to awaken you,” he whispered.

Sitting up, she covered her mouth and yawned. “I was just dozing.” She learned long ago to close her eyes and try to lie still, willing the coughing spasms to stop. Eventually sleep would come.

He extended a brown hand. “Come with me.”

Beside Joanie's pallet, Beth stirred. “What…where are you taking her, Gray Eagle?”

“She will be safe with me, Beth. Go back to sleep.”

“But—”

He gently nudged her back to her pallet. “We will be gone just a short while. Sleep.”

Dropping back to the pallet and closing her eyes, Beth murmured, “You're a man. How do I know I can trust you?”

Grinning, Gray Eagle gathered Joanie in his arms as he would a bride. “Have I behaved like a man in your presence?”

Beth rolled to her side, saying in a sleepy tone, “There's always the first time. I'm watching you.”

Secure in his strong arms, Joanie wondered where Gray Eagle was taking her at this hour. Thunder rumbled overhead and lighting streaked the sky. He walked with sure, confident strides, moving quietly through the sleeping camp. It hurt to draw a deep breath. She was so tired.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

She thought to argue, but she placed full trust in this scout. She studied his profile as the moon moved in and out of rain clouds. Strong forehead, chiseled nose, eyes as dark as the night, nut-brown skin painted deeper by the sun. He was handsome—and maybe five or six years older than her.

“Gray Eagle?”

“Yes?”

“Do you belong to someone?” The question was a most improper one. She knew at least that much about courtship.

A grin turned up the ends of his mouth. “No, ma'am. I am alone in this world.” But the expression in his eyes seemed to say something else. Exactly what, Joanie couldn't tell.

Gray Eagle left the village carrying her in his arms. They were wrapped in silence for a few minutes, and then the sound of gurgling water reached her ears.

“Are we going to water?” Perhaps he thought she needed a bath. Her cheeks flamed.

“We are.”

Resting her head on his wide shoulder, she simply tried to breathe, longing to ask more but her insides were so sore from coughing. One day she would fail to catch her breath—she knew this. Ma had warned of it, but she was all too happy to be summoned by the Father. Thoughts of long days running through fields of flowers and breathing easy didn't frighten her. She looked forward to the time when her body would be made whole. She had one last duty here on earth. She had to pray long and hard enough for God to soften Beth's heart and open her eyes to His existence. Walt had made it hard for anyone to believe in anyone, especially a kind God.

“Close your eyes.”

“Pardon?”

“Close your eyes.”

Her lids fluttered shut. “Is this a game?”
A rather odd one
, she thought.

“This isn't a game.” Her body shifted with the pace of his footsteps, her eyes closed. She couldn't imagine what awaited her. Did he want her to meet someone? Perhaps a good friend? Her heart skipped a beat. A woman? One he cared deeply for? Perhaps the woman who had so warmly welcomed him to camp? Her thoughts went back to the day they entered the Indian settlement and she noticed the lovely woman with long black hair. In her mind's eye, Joanie saw again the way she'd smiled at Gray Eagle. The way they moved to the side to speak in soft tones.

The sound of bubbling water was quite loud now. A clap of thunder boomed in the distance, and she stiffened. “Gray Eagle—we shouldn't be in water—”

Her words faltered as he lowered her. Down. Down. Her breath caught when her body was engulfed in the warm spring. Settling her gently on the bottom of the pool, he whispered softly against her ear, “Open your eyes.”

Her lids slowly opened. She was sitting in a large body of bubbling water. Jaunty spurts surrounded her. Her eyes roamed the moonlit area with awe. The hot water closed around her, and her aching body thistly drank in its comfort.

“Is this heaven?” Perhaps she had died today, her lungs finally giving out.

Chuckling softy, he whispered. “No, but I believe pools like this will be up there.”

“Do you believe in God?” she asked, surprised by his response.

“Yes. My mother taught me about the One who lives on high.”

“I thought Indians believed in a Great Spirit—”

He stopped her. “They believe in a higher source.”

“Oh, Gray Eagle.” His name escaped her lips as the soothing water swirled around her weary body, calming aches and pains. The bubbles were like prickly fingers dancing across her chest, touching sore spots and soothing them. “Why haven't I been here earlier?”

“You cannot come here alone, Joanie. Nor can you bring Beth or even speak of the waters to her.”

“But—”

He placed a quieting finger across her lips. “This river belongs to the Indians.”

“But—”

He shook his head.

“Beth has tried so hard to find help for me. Will this water cure me?”

“Only God heals, but the water will help you. Its heat will soothe your body, and the steam may quiet the cough. You must thank God for this. The chief granted me special permission to bring you here. It was a very great favor. My people call it Healing River.”

“Then it does heal.”

He shook his head. “The water comes from hot pools beneath the earth. It is not mystic water—but it is God given. Some find relief; others do not. I brought my mother here when she was ill. The waters did not help her.”

She touched his face. “I'm sorry.” She pictured him as a small boy, running through the camp, pushing a hoop with a stick as she'd seen the children do. He had grown strong and powerful. He'd become a proud Cherokee man who fought for his government, even though his government had stripped his ancestors of land, buffalo, and, for many, their spirit.

The rain finally came, a light shower dancing on the waters. Steam surrounded her. Joanie groaned with pleasure. “I don't want to leave.” For the first time in…well, ever…her body was at rest.

“We do not have to leave.”

“It's raining.”

Chuckling, he eased down bedside her, clothes and all, steadying her body with his right hand. “Are you afraid you will get wet?”

Her laughter rang out—a sound foreign to her own ears. “No, but if it starts lightning we'll be—”

“Cooked? Like meat on a spit?”

More giggles. “You have learned the white man's language quite nicely.”

“I am watching the sky closely. There is no need to fear.” Sobering, he spoke softly. “Remember. You are not to speak of these pools to anyone.”

She nodded, knowing how difficult it would be to keep this miracle quiet. “The nuns don't know about it?”

“Well, yes. They do. Sister Earlene and Sister Prue are two of the oldest. They are permitted to soak in the waters to ease their aching joints.”

“Then this isn't exactly a secret.”

“The pools are known to exist, but nobody but the Indians and sisters know their location.”

Joanie reached out to him and they latched hands. For a long moment their eyes met as the light shower splattered the water with diamond-shaped drops. “Thank you, Gray Eagle.”

His gaze locked with hers, he said, “You are welcome, Joanie Jornigan.”

Beth opened her eyes at daybreak. Chirping birds chattered happily overhead. When her hand automatically reached over to Joanie's pallet, she noted that her sister was back and sleeping soundly. Odd…her shirt sleeve was damp. Where did she and Gray Eagle go on their mysterious walk? Shading her eyes from the rising sun, she realized she'd overslept. Easing to her feet, she tiptoed away. Joanie hadn't coughed once during the night.

“Thank You, God—” She caught herself. Those thanks were coming easier in the past few days. Yet her gratitude seemed properly earned. She couldn't remember a night when Joanie's hacking cough hadn't kept her awake. If thanks were due, they would belong to God. For some reason, that thought didn't bother her as much as it once did.

Smells from the cooking fires reached her. Her stomach growled with hunger this morning. She smiled with the knowledge that she wouldn't have to go hungry, that a simple but satisfying meal would be provided her. Joy filled her heart at the beginning of this new day.