A squeal escaped Beth when she came face-to-face with Sister Mary Margaret.
Grinning like a mule eating spring grass, the friendly nun greeted her. “Beth! I thought you and Joanie had moved on from around here.”
Pressing her thumping heart back into her chest cavity, Beth tried to clear the lightheadedness that was close to overwhelming her. “Sister! You scared the daylights out of me.”
The nun’s features fell. “Forgive me.”
“Not intentionally,” Beth corrected. She knew instinctively that the good woman wouldn’t harm a fly, but her sudden appearance had completely unnerved Beth. She’d thought for certain that she had strayed too far from safety and that Walt or Bear had found her alone.
Mary Margaret’s smile swiftly resurfaced. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
The cheerful sister giggled. “The Indians make their summer camp on our land—well, the Lord’s land—but the order owns it. We’ve never said a word to them. It’s just an honest mistake. And they don’t hurt a thing. I think I shared with you that they are actually very helpful.”
Now that her heart had settled back in her chest, Beth lowered her hands. “What are you doing here?”
“I fear I am easily diverted. Father, forgive me.” Swiftly she made the sign of the cross. “I was working in the vegetable garden this morning, but the day is so lovely that I chased a butterfly much farther than I intended. When I looked up, I spotted you and could hardly believe my eyes.” Her gaze roamed the area. “Where is Joanie?”
“She’s with the Cherokee.”
Mary Margaret turned curious. “Why?”
“It’s a long story, Sister.”
“I have time for a story.” She offered an encouraging grin.
Mentally sighing, Beth relayed the details, reminding her of the circumstances of their departure and the birth of Trella’s baby.
“Trella’s milk apparently wasn’t rich enough for the infant,” she went on, “so after we left the convent, the soldiers suggested that we locate a wet nurse for the child. The Indian village was the closest settlement we could find.”
Mary Margaret laughed softly. “A wet nurse would have been difficult to find at the convent.”
“Yes. Very unlikely, though we hadn’t considered the idea until Pierce mentioned it.”
“Yes. The kind man who came with you on your second visit.” Mary Margaret smiled and then seemed to instinctively reach for a strand of beads hanging from her belt.
Beth watched the nun’s nimble fingers trace each bead as she whispered in soft tones. When she finished, Beth hesitantly asked, “Were you praying?”
The sister opened her eyes. “Yes.” She smiled. “You are not Catholic?”
“I’m not anything.”
Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “You most certainly are. You’re God’s child.”
“I don’t believe that. But Joanie prays, and she does it differently. She either bows her head or gets down on her knees beside the bed and just talks.” She focused on the beads. “You touch beads.”
“My rosary.”
Beth studied the strand in the sister’s hand. “Joanie doesn’t have such a thing. Does that mean her prayers aren’t heard?” This praying stuff is so complicated! Believing in a special, loving person you’d never met to take care of your needs no matter what? Beth shook her head. She wished she had such faith.
“My goodness, no!” the nun said. “God hears all prayers—unless a man’s heart has been hardened—but He hears all of His children’s prayers.”
His children? Now, there was another mystery. God didn’t sire her; Pa did. And Pa hadn’t loved her unconditionally. She got in trouble plenty of times for little things.
The sister’s explanation still didn’t account for the variances she’d seen in how people spoke to the Almighty. Her explanation made no sense to Beth, but the sister seemed convinced that every sort of murmuring or tolling of bells or whispering over beads reached a higher source. Beth furrowed her brow.
“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?”
“I believed every man had a right to freedom. I still do, but I’m starting to see my father’s wisdom…” His voice trailed away as if he were in another time, another conversation. Then he looked back at her and continued his work. “A man is only free if he can afford to feed his family and keep a roof over his head. The plantation owners fed, clothed, and housed many people. Some slave owners were tyrants, but others were like my father. Honest. Good to their help.” He paused again, the blade of his knife glinting in the sun. “I’m not sure I did the blacks any favors, and I know I hurt my father deeply. I regret that so much.”
Beth’s family had never spoken about the war. She imagined they didn’t know much about it. Uncle Walt employed hundreds of slaves. Beth’s entire childhood consisted of working acres of cotton—known in these parts as white gold—right alongside them.
“What about you?” he asked. “Life seems to have been pretty hard on you so far.”
She’d spent her whole life just trying to survive. How could she have feelings about it one way or the other when so much of it was outside her control? She regretted Joanie’s struggle; she regretted Ma’s death and that the two of them hadn’t been better friends. Ma was closer to Joanie than her. She supposed it was natural. A mother always took to her wounded sheep.
Beth wasn’t wounded. She sometimes thought she was the strongest person in her family—at least in will. She worked the fields, ate her meals, did her chores, and wasn’t afraid to fight Uncle Walt and Bear. She’d accepted her fair share of lashings for her independent streak.
Come dark she’d drag herself up the ladder to the loft she shared with Joanie, and she would fall asleep almost instantly listening to her sister softly read from the Bible by the moonlight filltering through the small window. She’d never had time to think about war and death. Images of the fire danced before her eyes and she sighed. “I suppose I’ve had a few regrets as well.”
“What are your regrets, Beth Jornigan?”
Beth shifted to the back of the animal, cutting at the meat that remained there. “I regret that my ma married my pa.”
“Oh?” His blade paused again.
Nodding, Beth kept working.
“Okay. There’s still more to your story than what you’ve told me. Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”
She refused to meet his eyes. “We’re field dressing a deer.”
“Come on. I’m not a fool.”
“It’s none of your business.” Because he treated her as an equal didn’t mean she should lower her guard. He’d been thinking of riding off and leaving her here, with strangers, while he went home to his nice quiet land where he planned to build a house, sit on the porch, and drink sweet tea. She had her land too, and she was going to taste sweet tea someday. She glanced at the still swelling knot on the back of his head.
Actually, he was fortunate to be alive. She’d struck him hard.
Shame washed over her, but she almost didn’t recognize the emotion. She’d experienced it so few times in her life. Then, for the life of her, she didn’t know why the words popped out of her mouth, “Ma would have been far better off if she hadn’t married Pa and brought me and Joanie into the world.”
His features remained calm. “You love your sister. Think of what life would be without her.”
“I wouldn’t be here either.”
He paused to face her. “And that would be one fine shame.”
Color crept up her neck and she lowered her head and concentrated on her work.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Please…don’t tell anyone I said such a thing…” She lifted her head and pleaded with him with her eyes.
“I won’t tell anyone, but I would like to hear why you feel you’d be better off having never been born.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. How many times had she heard her mother repeat the old adage? Now that the worst was out, she might as well complete the thought. “Pa was good and honest, but he was a weak man. He couldn’t stand up to his brother—or anyone else, for that matter. He just buried his head in work and didn’t think about tomorrow.”
“In a sense, that’s what the Good Book teaches.”
She paused, meeting his blue eyes. “Do you pray, Pierce?”
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t you?”
“Not really. Though I tried it this morning and…it wasn’t so bad.”
“Go on.”
She lifted a shoulder. “There’s not much to tell. Pa and Uncle Walt never saw eye to eye, but Walt wouldn’t let up on Pa. He constantly threatened him and us with all sorts of harm if he didn’t tell where the deed was hidden. Pa knew that Walt knew men—men of importance who were even meaner than him—and if Walt ever got his hand on that deed, he’d see that Pa was cut clean out. Pa couldn’t fight him, but he could sure be mule stubborn.”
“Sounds like a case of like father, like daughter.”
She stiffened and concentrated on her work. “I’m nothing like Pa.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve seen a hint or two of uncertainty in you, but you do take good care of your sister.”
She felt him move to her side.
“Look. I’m not making light of you, but for the life of me I don’t know why your pa would stand by and let your uncle run roughshod over him or your family.”
“Pa had his flaws.” She glanced over. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that. You’re strong. Independent.”
“I thank you, ma’am, but I’m as faulted as the next man.” He winked at her, and her stomach jumped. “When you and Joanie reach your piece of land, how do you plan to build lodging?”
“Can’t say for sure. I’m pretty good with a hammer and nail. Actually, we haven’t talked much about it. Everything happened so fast. Ma, then Pa dying, the fire.”
“How did Trella get mixed up in this?”
“Well, right after Ma died the three of us worked together in the fields that afternoon. Trella overheard me and Joanie talking about running away if Pa went too, and she begged us to take her along. She was close to having her child, and Uncle Walt—well, you’ve heard enough about Uncle Walt. We both knew he would work her till she dropped, and when the baby was born he’d likely take it away from her.” Her tone dropped. “Trella isn’t married.”
“I figured as much.”
“She feared Uncle Walt so badly that she said she would do anything to escape him. It was a risk we were willing to take. We all knew if he caught us he’d…” She shuddered at the lengths he would go to punish them.
Pierce reached over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Your uncle needs a horsewhip taken to his back.”
Biting back tears, she let the soothing words wash over her. No one had ever listened to her fears, much less offered such words of kindness. The hand resting on her shoulder was like the touch of…of an angel. “Neither Joanie nor I was afraid to strike out on our own because we both knew it was Joanie’s best hope.”
“You pa wouldn’t even fight for his ailing daughter?”
Shaking her head, Beth said, “I never understood why he wouldn’t, or why Ma kept quiet too. I guess they were afraid of Walt. Afraid that he’d set us out in the cold. As long as Pa knew where the deed was hidden, Walt wouldn’t throw him off the plantation.”
Pierce reached for his knife and went back to work. “He could have retrieved the deed and taken your uncle to court if he tried anything funny.”
“Walt had a lot of crooked friends in this area, a judge, even, and Pa didn’t have the money to defend his rights. And though Pa was given the deed, he was still the second son.”
“Beth—”
“Please. Can we…can we not talk about this anymore? It does no good. What’s done is done, and Joanie and I just have to make the best of things now.”
He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but then he apparently decided to honor her request and went back to work beside her in silence.
As they continued to tend to the deer meat, she watched him from the corner of her eye, berating herself for her impulsive tongue. Why had she told him so much about her life? She felt exposed. Now he probably wouldn’t be so quick to keep his promise to see them to safety. Or risk a second kiss. The thought of that brought heat to her cheeks.
Now for sure she and Joanie would have to leave. The moment she got back to camp, she’d get Joanie and they would say they were taking a walk. Nobody had bothered her this morning. Most likely no one would bother her tonight. Once they were near the fields, they could hide in the long corn rows. Nobody would find them. Eventually they would find the main road.
The image of Uncle Walt filled her mind. He was likely still out there. Her teeth worried her lower lip while she worked. She had looked forward to working with Sister Mary Margaret in the turnip patch. And Joanie was so well tended by the Indian women…
Oh, why had she opened her big mouth? Because of her, she and Joanie would have to be on the run again. Her heart ached.
She knew better than to trust a man.
The afternoon light was waning by the time Beth and Pierce delivered the fresh kill to the nuns. Reverend Mother was delighted with the gift. She unlatched the door to the smokehouse and helped store the bounty as the captain built a fire to preserve it.
The sunset was a sight to behold as Beth and Pierce returned to camp. His horse’s saddlebags contained the deer hide.
Nestling close to the captain’s back, Beth drank in the last of the perfect day. Golds, pinks, and oranges painted the sky. The hot sun cooled to a warm breeze. Joanie ran to meet them, her eyes filled with concern. “Where have you been?”
Pierce helped Beth down from the horse, and she embraced her sister. “I’m sorry to cause you alarm.” She told Joanie about the events of the strange day. Then, easing her aside, Beth examined her sister’s pale features. “What about you?”
Joanie bent and rested her head on her sister’s shoulder, her words disheartening. “The cough has worsened.”
Gray Eagle stood to the side, his dark eyes focused on Joanie. Beth met his gaze for a moment, not sure what to make of the man’s attention.
Surely the Indian didn’t have designs on her ill sister. But if Joanie was interested…and he was interested…she shook the image of the unlikely pairing aside.
Joanie couldn’t be that fanciful.