The One Who Waits for Me (7 page)

“No. We don't trust any man, Joanie. Not even one.”

Joanie's flushed features turned puzzled. “They have been perfect gentleman. Kind, attentive to our needs, and they have gone out of their way to serve us. If they hadn't come along when they did, we might not have survived.” She sank deeper into the cooling water. “Think, Beth. Because of them I'll soon be able to see a doctor and get help for my asthma.”

That was the only consideration that drove Beth, the single reason why she would permit the soldiers' presence in her life. She had to attain that goal. But hers and Joanie's safety now depended on them. But her worry remained. A man like Captain Montgomery surely thrived on power.

She worked up lather on the soap and cleansed her shirt. It felt heavenly. Walt allowed one bath a week, but as often as she could she'd slipped into the cool bayou below the plantation and washed her grimy clothing. “Joanie, I think we should break away and be on our own now that we've escaped.”

Joanie's soft intake of breath didn't surprise Beth. Joanie would err on caution's side. “That would be crazy. We're safe with these soldiers for the time being.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Beth scrubbed her elbows. “I think we'd be safer—and more likely to reach our destination—without the others.”

“Are you suggesting that we run away?”

“Yes. As soon as possible. We'll leave the men and Trella in camp and slip away. They won't care.”

“But we'd be betraying Trella—”

“We won't be betraying anyone. Trella wouldn't be with us at all if she hadn't overheard our conversation and begged to come along.”

“True, but—”

“No buts. We break away as soon as possible. It won't be long before Uncle Walt and Bear give up and return home. Trella and the baby would be safe. The men will drop her off at the next community, and she will find help and shelter there.” Beth didn't like the idea of deserting the new mother, but she had to do what was best for all concerned.

“We can't know that—”

“Walt and Bear have a plantation to run. They're not likely to waste a lot of time looking for us.”

Lifting a foot, Joanie scrubbed at the grime. “I wouldn't count on it.”

Once their grooming was over, the women floated in the stream, absorbing the last mellow rays of the sinking sun. If Captain Montgomery was a man of his word—and Beth had yet to meet that sort of man—the group would reach a community soon. Every hour the road traffic had increased. She'd learned to turn away at the sight of homeless families wandering the byways. Small hungry children turned soulful eyes on her. She suddenly sat up, her eyes searching the thicket that shrouded the stream. There it was again…the distinct snap of a boot meeting undergrowth. She glanced at Joanie. “Did you hear that? Someone's coming.”

Joanie smiled. “It's probably Trella. Besides, we're dressed.”

Yes, they were dressed. Perfectly proper. Beth sank back into the gurgling stream to enjoy the last precious moments of daylight. Overhead a dove cooed. The picturesque setting was perfect, and Beth knew she wouldn't experience such a peaceful haven again for a while.

Guilt nagged her and she tried to shake it aside. But she couldn't get past the thought that when the men dropped Trella off in the next town, she'd have no home. No job. No means to support herself. If the masses they had passed on the road were any indication of the probability that any one of them would find work in the cotton fields—well, they would have little opportunity. But what could she do? She had not promised to look after Trella's welfare, only Joanie's.

She sensed the approach of others from the corner of her eye and sighed. Why couldn't Captain Montgomery at least whistle or shout her name? Why must he personally come to check on their whereabouts? Men were so wearisome.

Joanie's breath came in a soft gasp. Glancing toward the thicket, Beth focused on a male figure coming into view and her heart sank. Her cousin stood in the clearing, dark and threatening.

“Don't make a sound, Beth,” Bear said, steadying his shotgun.

Beth's heart nearly stopped. Where was Captain Montgomery when a body needed him? If she screamed, she had no doubt Bear would shoot.

“Beth.” Joanie's whimpers floated across the stream.

“Do as he says,” Beth said quietly. There was no use fighting him. He always won. There was no escaping her cousin's or uncle's tyranny. Ever.

The two women waded out of the water at a snail's pace and up onto the bank. Their clothes dripped water.

Bear motioned with the gun. He focused on Beth, who defiantly met his eyes. “Make a sound, and I'll blow your sister's head clean off.”

Nodding wordlessly, she reached for Joanie's hand.

“We got horses waiting.”

“What about the others?” Had he taken them too? Were Trella and her baby waiting ahead in the thicket to return to the plantation? She was tempted to ask about the soldiers, but she bit her tongue. For all she knew, they were all dead at the campsite—though she would have heard the shots.

“Hold on.” Joanie reached for her rucksack and slipped her arms through the straps. Both women put their socks and boots back on. “Okay, now we can go.”

Beth and Joanie started through the thicket, assisted by the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun at their backs.

P
ierce glanced up when the setting sun receded behind a cloud bank. “Shouldn't Beth and Joanie be back by now?”

“You know women. They like to take their time prettying up,” said Preach.

“Yeah.” The captain sat back and stared at the fire. “It's been a good long time since I've seen women that pretty.”

Preach gave him a good-natured punch. “It's been a good long time since you've seen a woman, period.”

The men's easy camaraderie filtered through camp. Smoke from yesterday's field fire still hung in the distance, but the wind had died and the flames would eventually burn out. No sign of the uncle and cousin so far, but Pierce really wasn't expecting trouble. What were three soldiers and three women to a plantation owner and his son? The man probably had hundreds of pickers. He surely wouldn't miss the women, even if two were kin.

The campfire crackled. A metal coffeepot gave off the smell of perking coffee. Pierce wasn't concerned that the grounds were bitter chicory. He'd drunk nothing else for the past few years. Glancing toward the stream where Beth and Joanie had disappeared more than an hour ago, he said, “Think one of us should walk downstream and check on them?”

“And have them accuse us of lechery?” Gray Eagle laughed. “Not me. The one called Beth would be the first to take your head off.”

Preach reached for the coffeepot. “They're all right, Captain. Let them enjoy their bath.”

Pierce's gaze strayed to the women's pallets. “Seems real quiet without their chatter.”

Checking his pocket watch a few minutes later, Pierce stood up and stretched. “I think I'll walk down that way and check on them.”

Rolling to his feet, Gray Eagle said, “Okay, Mother Hen. I'll walk with you.” The two men started off carrying their rifles.

River ferns and tangled vines grew thick along the shoreline. Pierce filled his lungs with the honeysuckle-scented air. He'd missed this—the smell of rich fertile earth without the stench of war. He'd waited a long time to plant his boots on home soil. Dread filled him again when he thought about facing his father and having to admit he'd been wrong about the fight and his father had been right. Freedom came with a price, and from what he'd seen the price was steep. He wasn't sure if his conscience would ever let him forget his part in the war. The reminder of those he'd hurt rather than helped daily confronted him. His father would forgive him; God would forgive him. Now he had to reconcile his thoughts and forgive himself.

Once I claim my land, I'll find peace
.

Parting the thicket, Pierce listened for the women's voices. Other than the music of the water, a night bird calling to its mate was the only sound that met his ears.

“Strange. I would have thought we would be able to hear them this close,” Gray Eagle observed.

“Those two don't talk all that much.” Unless Pierce missed his guess, some man—or men—had abused the sisters. Their father? The uncle? They had mentioned that they picked cotton for Walt, and even a fool could see that he and his son scared the wits out of the girls.

Pierce and Gray Eagle approached the end of the stream and still the women weren't in sight. Pausing, Pierce's eyes skimmed the area. “Maybe they took a different path back to camp.”

“Maybe—but they would have had to cut their way through.” The men's eyes roamed the thick vegetation.

“You wouldn't think they would have wandered this far downstream.”

Gray Eagle looked down at the still waters. “There could be gators in there.”

“You think those women would take a bath if they saw gators? They would have screamed.”

The scout's eyes scanned the murky water. “Looks a little snaky too.”

“You afraid of a snake?”

“No, but I'd as soon not share a bath with one.”

“I'll take the opposite side, and you walk back the way we came. They have to be here somewhere.” Stripping off his boots and socks, Pierce stepped out into the shallows. A water moccasin didn't bother him, but he also didn't cotton to taking a bath with one. Something brushed his leg and he paused. A log floated by.

Gray Eagle called from the opposite bank. “Jumpy, Montgomery?”

“I wasn't checking for snakes.” Pierce smothered a grin. “I stepped on a rock and I'm tender footed.”

“Yeah.”

Pierce reached underwater, found a good sized rock and pitched it up onto the bank. Gray Eagle jumped as if he'd been shot.

“Something in the bushes, Gray Eagle?” Pierce called.

“I'll break your neck, Montgomery.”

Grinning, Pierce waded across the stream and sat down on the opposite bank to put on his socks and boots. Half an hour later, both men stood in the camp, puzzled.

Gray Eagle spoke. “They wouldn't have run away. They were too desperate for help.”

“And they wouldn't have left Trella behind if they feared us,” Preach added.

Pierce agreed with both men. Neither sister would desert Trella. That left only two options: They had either wandered off the main path and were lost in the thicket or…

“The uncle.”

Preach tossed out the coffee dregs from his mug. “You think their menfolk caught up with us?”

“Either that or Beth and Joanie have become lost.”

“It's possible.”

“Spread out. We have about fifteen minutes of light left.”

Trella appeared. “What's all the commotion?”

“Beth and Joanie are missing.”

“They're taking a bath—”

“How long does it take to bathe? They've been gone the better part of two hours.”

Uncertainty entered the woman's eyes. “I drifted off to sleep and didn't realize they'd been gone so long. That isn't like them.”

“We're going to look for them. You stay put.” Pierce handed her a loaded pistol. “Do you know how to fire this?”

“Yes.”

“If they come back to camp, fire once into the air.”

“All right.” She gripped the pistol handle.

“Don't leave for any reason.” Pierce rechecked his rifle.

“Do you think Beth and Joanie got lost?”

Pierce met her stricken eyes. “I don't know what's happened to them, Trella. Stay close to the campsite and fire that pistol the moment they come back.”

Wordlessly, she nodded.

When he walked away, Pierce tried to concentrate on his original purpose, which wasn't babysitting three women and a newborn. He just wanted to get home, claim his land, and live in peace.

Suddenly his life was more complicated than a traveling minstrel show.

F
ull moon.

Beth searched her mind for a reason other than the present circumstance to let its brightness bother her. Fighting back hysteria, she muffled a panicked laugh. What more could worry her? She'd been rescued once from Uncle Walt and Bear, and now they had recaptured her and Joanie. There would be no Captain Pierce Montgomery riding to her rescue this time. Her eyes followed Walt and Bear around the camp. Fool. She'd been a fool to consider leaving the captain's protection. Heaping wood on the fire, Bear created a huge blaze. Apparently his last concern was that Captain Montgomery might spot them.

Joanie snuggled closer. “Now what?” she whispered.

Too weary to think, Beth lifted a shoulder. “I don't know.” For the first time since she'd hatched this idiotic plan to leave the plantation and escape Uncle Walt's tyranny, she didn't have a solution. Her gaze roamed the heavy thicket. There was no way out. Uncle Walt sat opposite the fire, shotgun leveled at her. If she tried to make a break, he'd have no difficulty shooting Joanie.