Even without the cast on his arm to give her a clue to who the man in front of her was, Fran would have known. His eyes were that much like Woody’s except a darker blue. Eyes so blue she couldn’t help but note their color even in the darkening air of the storm.
He had Jasmine. The horse tried to toss her head at the sight of Fran, but the man held her tight with his good arm.
“My talkative brother. Seems he must have been talking to you.”
“He simply said you were on the way home.” Fran kept smiling as relief washed through her that she wasn’t facing down a moonshiner. A returning soldier from the war was much less threatening, even if he wasn’t smiling. And no wonder. She had to look a mess, with hair plastered down on her head in the rain and bloody scratches decorating her face and arms from fighting through the brambles.
He, on the other hand, looked very handsome in his uniform, standing there as though the rain was no bother at all. Some mountain girl would be eager to welcome him home. Woody hadn’t mentioned whether his brother was committed to a girl or single. It wasn’t information she needed to know, but looking at him, she couldn’t help but be curious. And a little envious of whatever girl might be waiting for him to make it home from the war.
She pushed that thought away before Seth’s betrayal could stab her again. She had worries enough without that. Instead she looked at Jasmine and was very happy to peer past the soldier’s duffel bag on the saddle to see her saddlebag still there. She hadn’t lost her midwifery equipment.
“Thank you for catching my horse. A rattler frightened her into making a sudden detour.” She stepped over to rub Jasmine’s nose. “Without me slowing her down. Bad girl.”
“I doubt petting her nose will convince her you mean it.”
“Probably not. But she’s a good horse most of the time. I like that she has spirit.”
“A skittish horse can be dangerous on a mountain path.” The man frowned. “Especially to an inexperienced rider.”
“I’m not inexperienced.” Fran gave the man a look. “Lots of horses don’t like snakes and even the best riders get thrown now and again.”
“True enough.” He said the words, but he didn’t look as though he believed them.
It didn’t make any difference what the man thought of her riding ability. She didn’t need to convince him of anything. She just needed her horse and the way to the Nolans’ cabin pointed out. But first she’d get a drink. She might be soaked on the outside, but her mouth was dry.
She stepped past him to where a trickle of water tumbled out of a ledge of rocks and gathered in a pool. Fran cupped her hands to catch some water for a drink. After she had slaked her thirst, she splashed cold water on her face. That made her feel better and ready to move on.
The man watched her without a word until she reached for Jasmine’s reins. “The storm’s not over.” As though to prove his words, lightning lit up the woods and thunder crashed down around them almost at the same time. “We best take shelter.”
“I don’t think there’s anywhere to take shelter.”
“There used to be a small cave not far from here.”
“Big enough for Jasmine too?”
“Jasmine?”
“My horse.”
“We’ll find out.” He looked back at her as he started away from the spring. “I’d let you ride, but it’s a steep climb. Best for you and the horse both if you walk.”
Fran followed him. It wouldn’t do Lurene any good for Fran to get struck by lightning. As if she’d called it, the lightning cracked again, with thunder shaking the ground. A sheet of rain dashed down through the trees, mixed with hard pellets of hail that stung her arms. Jasmine whinnied, but the man kept going, forcing the horse to scramble along behind him. Fran trailed them, taking care to stay back from Jasmine’s hooves.
Woody was right about his brother not being talkative. He hadn’t even asked Fran’s name, but then, she supposed she should have offered that. His name was Ben. No way she could not know that, with how Woody was always asking if she was still praying for him. She was or at least she had prayed for him and all the soldiers whenever she hadn’t been too tired to keep her eyes open at bedtime.
She remembered asking Grandma Howard once the best time to pray. Her grandmother had said, “There’s no right or wrong time. Anytime can be the best time. Or all the time. Me, I’m partial to walking prayers.”
“Walking prayers?” That had been a puzzle to Fran.
“Those a person can say while she’s busy doing what has to be done. Like when I’m walking to the barn or the garden. Grabbing minutes with the Lord. His children don’t have to set up appointments for him to pay attention. He’s always ready to bend down his ear to us.”
“Like you do for me?” Grandma Howard had smiled and laid her hand on Fran’s head. “Something like that, for sure. Only better.”
Fran said one of those walking prayers as she followed Woody’s brother. For safety in the storm. To eventually find her way to the Nolans’ cabin. For Lurene Nolan to have an easy delivery whether Fran was there or not.
Woody’s brother stopped and motioned her past him toward an overhang with a hollowed-out depression under it. She tried not to think about what else might be taking shelter under the ledge as she stepped into the small cave. Snakes. Bats. Spiders. All things she’d rather not face nose to nose. At the same time, the lightning flashed so brightly she saw spots. She shouldn’t look askance at the shelter the Lord was providing.
The man stepped in behind her and pulled Jasmine partially under the overhang too. “We can wait out the storm here.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, so close Fran could hear him breathing. Jasmine snorted and then settled with her head turned toward the earthen wall behind them. The wet-horse smell mixed with the musty odor of the cave and that of their wet clothes. Fran shifted a bit to breathe the rain smell outside the cave.
“It’s a little close in here, but the storm won’t last long,” Woody’s brother said. “By the way, my name is Ben in case Woody didn’t tell you that.”
Fran looked around at him. He had to bend his head a little to fit under the overhang. “He did tell me, Mr. Locke, when he asked me to add my prayers to your mother’s for your safety.”
“With a mother and a frontier nurse praying for me, no wonder I made it home.” Finally the man smiled. “And if it’s not against your rules, Ben will do.”
Lightning flashed to let her see how the smile lit up his eyes as well. A friendly smile that showed he was trying to put Fran at ease, huddled there in the little cave with him.
“I don’t suppose there are rules against using first names.” Fran wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded too unfriendly to claim such a rule. She turned to stare back out at the rain.
He was silent a moment, as if waiting for her to say more. Maybe call him by his name, but she stayed quiet. If she was standing there with Woody, she could have been chatting along easily enough, but his brother was different. A man instead of a boy. She had to consider proprieties. The air under the ledge seemed to grow heavier and not merely because of the storm.
Finally he spoke up. “All right then. So, are there rules against telling your own name, Nurse? It seems odd to know your horse’s name and not yours.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to be rude.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the flush warming her cheeks. “I’m Francine Howard, but everybody calls me Fran.” Her cheeks got hotter as she imagined Betty’s disapproving glare for telling the man her first name. She tried to backtrack. “Or Nurse Howard.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Nurse Howard.”
She was relieved he chose the more formal address, but the relief was short-lived. “Francine is a lovely name.”
“Thank you.”
What else could she say? She couldn’t take back her words now. She should have simply said Nurse Howard. Betty said the families they treated had no need to know their given names. She would probably tell Fran to step out into the storm instead of standing so close to this man that she could feel the cast on his arm against her back and feel his breath against her hair.
Her heart rate accelerated, but it was only her concern about whether being scrunched into a hole in the hill with a man was improper. That and the lightning and the worry of spiders crawling on her. She should simply turn her face to the wall like Jasmine and ignore it all. Even the man beside her. Or perhaps think of him as a patient. She could ask him about his arm, how it was healing.
He spoke before she could figure out something safe to say. Something that Betty might approve. “Why did you think I might shoot you?”
“I’ve been told it’s best not to startle anyone out in the woods.” She tried to think of the most diplomatic way to explain. “We know the local people would never harm us nurses, but they are wary of strangers coming up on them unexpectedly. And with the storm and rain hiding the noise of my approach, I thought it sensible to shout out a warning.”
“A warning?” He sounded puzzled.
“Maybe warning isn’t the right word. I just wanted to let whoever might be there know they didn’t have anything to worry about from me.”
“Why would they be worried about you? You nurses haven’t started carrying guns, have you?”
“No.” Fran shook her head. “We don’t need guns.”
“Might come in handy against a rattlesnake.”
“We just take detours around them. Sometimes long detours.” Fran couldn’t keep from smiling at that. “Jasmine shies easily, but she seems calm enough now.”
“I guess she’s not hearing any rattlers.”
A shiver went through Fran at the thought. “I hope not.”
“Then again, it might be hard to hear them over the rain.”
Fran started to jerk around to see if he was serious, but then decided to keep her calm. “Horses know, rain or not.”
“You could be right.” He sounded amused again. “So you didn’t have a gun to shoot anybody yourself and you wanted to make sure nobody shot you.”
“Better safe than shot.”
“Plenty of soldiers I’ve known would agree with that. But there’s no war going on here.”
“No wars like you’ve been in, but there can be other conflicts or problems a person might stumble up on. Especially at a remote spring or creek.”
He suddenly laughed. “Of course. I guess I’ve been away too long. You were worried about moonshiners.”
His laugh sounded like Woody, and if he went home and told this story to Woody, the whole mountain would know about it by next week. Maybe sooner. Not only had she gotten thrown from her horse and lost, she was afraid of moonshiners. Not one of her better days.
“I guess it is funny.” She managed a laugh too. Might as well laugh at herself first. “I’m still getting used to mountain ways.”
“Not everybody who lives in the hills is a moonshiner.” He wasn’t laughing now. Instead he sounded a little offended.
“I didn’t say they were.” She started to apologize, but she hadn’t accused him or anybody else of being a moonshiner. It was certainly a fact of mountain life that moonshine was made in some of the hollows and on some of the hills. If he grew up here, he had to know that.
An uncomfortable silence pushed into the cave with them. Fran had no problem imagining the man’s frown, even though she didn’t look around at him. Instead she shifted a little toward the outside of the cave. Rain was still peppering down, but no hailstones bounced off the rocks. The lightning and thunder sounded more distant.
“It looks like the storm is passing. I thank you kindly for catching Jasmine and guiding us to this shelter, but I should move on. A baby is on the way over the next ridge.” At least she hoped it was over the next ridge. She didn’t really want to ask him for more help, since his mood seemed to have darkened, but she’d be foolish not to ask for directions. “Can you point me toward where the Nolans live?”
“Nolans?”
“Woody told me they lived west of your place. I was just there checking on Sadie.”
“Is she all right?”
“Trouble with her ears. Nothing serious, but she does seem to have one problem after another. Your mother is trying to get her to eat more.” Fran twisted to the side to look at him. “You coming home might be the best medicine for her. She misses her father.”
“I can’t step into his place.”
“I didn’t mean that you should, but having you home will be a good distraction for her sorrow.” She softened her voice when she saw the sadness settle on his face. “And perhaps for you as well. It must be hard for you to come home and not see him here.”
He tightened his mouth as though he didn’t want to admit any struggle, but his eyes gave him away. She let him pretend what he wanted and said, “But about the Nolans?”
“Name isn’t familiar to me.”
“Well, they are young. I think she was an Abrams. Lurene Abrams.”
A look of recognition and surprise settled on his face. “Lurene Abrams is having a baby? She wasn’t but thirteen when I left. Not even as old as Becca.”
She started to tell him Becca was in the family way too, but decided that wasn’t her place. “She’s young, but some mothers are younger. So can you point me toward where she might live?”
“Maybe. For a price.”
“A price?” She stared at him. She had yet to meet the mountain man unwilling to point out the way she needed to go to this or that patient’s cabin. “I don’t have any money with me.”
“I don’t want money.”