In the stillness of the quiet evening, Preach cradled the light bundle in his arms. Trella’s infant was beautiful, with glossy black hair, olive skin, and dark soulful eyes. It had now been almost a week since she came into the world, and still she remained nameless. Just a tiny bundle of lungs and black hair. “She sure is something, Trella.”
The proud mother sat on the pallet, her eyes fastened to her child. “She’s precious. A true gift from the Almighty.”
Preach cooed at the baby and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. It might have just been from a gas bubble, but the sight of it warmed his heart. He sighed contentedly at the babe before he handed her back and then took a seat beside the mother. The sweet sound of laughter on the far side of the camp drew their attention. “I’d have never thought the red man had so much good in him,” Preach mused.
“Why? Have you fought the Indians?”
“Fought beside ’em. There’s good and bad among them all, but I figure they have a beef.” The hue of his eyes darkened. “The white man took the red man’s land. He found more. The white man took his food. He grew more. The white man took his pride. He developed integrity.” His gaze lifted to meet hers, measuring her. He changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking, Trella. You haven’t mentioned your baby’s father.” His eyes skimmed the infant, and he decided the child was more black than white. “Is he looking for you?”
She shook her head. “I…I don’t know who the baby’s father is.”
Preach quickly averted his gaze. The personal nature of her answer was too abrupt. He barely knew her, but the haunted look in her eyes had him wondering.
“I’m not a loose woman, Preach.”
“No, ma’am.” The thought hadn’t entered his mind. He knew too well how it worked on the plantations. She was scared. It didn’t take much speculation to identify her fear.
“I don’t know the baby’s father because…Walt Jornigan passes his help…” Her guarded tone became angry. “We’re passed around like candy at Christmastime.”
“Trella…” The winsome young woman wasn’t many years from the innocence of childhood, and he felt his protective nature surge. If Jornigan were here right now…“I’m deeply sorry to hear that. You did the right thing by running away.”
Moisture filled her eyes. “I’m not a good person, Preach. Not like you. I hate Walt Jornigan, and the Good Book tells us not to hate.”
“The Book tells us not to hold hate in our hearts,” he agreed. “But the good Lord was human in all ways, and He understands our feelings. He don’t intend for us to let our emotions eat us alive.” He managed a smile. “You’re free of Walt and Bear Jornigan now. The past is behind you.” She was young and strong, and she was free now to make a new life for herself and the child.
Sighing, she toyed with the light woven blanket shielding the baby from a soft breeze. “I’m not gettin’ my hopes up. He’ll find me. He won’t let his women workers get away.”
“He won’t find you. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He didn’t have much say, but he knew Pierce and Gray Eagle would hold fast. They wouldn’t allow harm to befall the Jornigan women, and he would do everything in his power to keep Trella safe.
Glancing up, she asked, “Are you married?”
“No, ma’am. I signed up to fight when I was twenty-one. Haven’t had time since then for a wife and kiddies, but now that I’m going home, I’m getting a longing to settle down.” A wide smile lit his face. “I want to take over my papa’s flock. He’s a man of the cloth, but he’s getting older. What about you? You won’t stay with the other women once you reach the town, will you? Do you have kin elsewhere?”
Lifting a thin shoulder, she said quietly. “I lost both Ma and Pa and my grandparents when I was twelve. I was purchased by Walt shortly afterward. I’ve picked his cotton and done his bidding every miserable day of my life since then.” She released another long sigh. “But I want more for my baby. When I heard Beth and Joanie planning to make a break, I begged them to let me go with them.”
“That right?” The girl had a scrappy side to her, but she didn’t seem bitter.
“Every woman we left behind was desperate, Preach. Have you ever been desperate?”
“No,” he admitted. “Can’t say that I have. I had a good upbringing. My pa pastors a small white community. The town always treated us like one of their own.”
Her gaze grew warm and sweet. “You were one of their own.”
“True, but black people aren’t always treated that way.” His gaze followed an Indian woman who walked by, carrying a large basket of freshly picked berries.
“You seem young for a preacher.”
“Well, truthfully, I’ve never known a time when I didn’t know the Lord. Pa saw that his kids understood the Almighty’s love and grace for every soul.” He chuckled. “Maybe there were a few times when I didn’t serve Him like I should have, but I’ve always known His presence. Carried me and thousands of others through this war. Pa and Ma are slowing down. Figure I’ll take over the pulpit, and they can set back and rest a spell.”
“That’s a wonderful thought.” A moment passed. She fussed with the blanket. “Preach…” she finally said, hesitating.
His gaze returned to meet hers. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I haven’t named my baby.”
“I’d noticed. Is there a reason?”
“I can’t think of a good, strong name to give her. I want her to be different than me. I want her to be able to hold her head up with pride and be a fine lady.”
Gazing at the infant, Preach tried to imagine the child grown, dressed in beautiful clothing. The woman he saw looked a whole lot like her ma—lovely bone structure, warm eyes. Though Trella had been mistreated, she was still a mighty fine-looking female.
“Would you help me?” she asked.
He glanced up. “Name your baby?”
“Yes, sir. I figure a man like you—a man with spiritual goodness—would know what to call her.”
“I’ve never thought about naming a child,” he admitted. He gazed at the sleeping infant and the name Esther came to mind. She was an upstanding example of a godly woman in the Bible. “Esther.”
“Esther? Are you speaking of Queen Esther in the Bible? The woman King Ahasuerus chose for his wife?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gazed at the infant. “This one’s a queen if I ever saw one.” He gave a firm nod. “If she were my child, I’d name her Esther.”
Trella studied the child, her eyes gently taking in every inch of the bundle. “Esther. That is a nice name.”
“What’s your middle name?” Preach asked.
Biting her lip, she gave the question thought and then said, “I don’t have one—leastways one I can recall.” She paused, meeting his concerned gaze. “Do you believe in miracles, Preach?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can’t say I ever witnessed a full-blown one, but I believe God can act if and when He wants.”
Her head bobbed. “Me too. I prayed day and night that someone would rescue me. I never lost faith that one day the good Lord would answer my prayer.”
“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.