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.
Seven
Pierce 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.
Eight
Full 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.
“We’re going to let Uncle Walt take us back?”
“Do you have a better plan?”
Shaking her head, Joanie said, “Maybe it would be better to let him shoot us.”
Beth didn’t disagree, but she didn’t agree either. She was helpless and hopeless, but she wasn’t ready to concede defeat yet.
Sneering, Walt flashed an ugly grin. “I can see those wheels turning, girlie.”
“I don’t see how.” Beth pulled Joanie’s trembling body closer. “I’m not thinking anything.”
“I’m not thinkin’ anything,” he mocked. “I know you, girl. You’re thinkin’ plenty.”
“Am not.”
“You are!”
“Okay, I am. I’m thinking that we’re hungry and thirsty.” They hadn’t made much progress when Walt had decided to stop for the night, but that had been hours ago. He didn’t like traveling in the dark this far from home. Beth wasn’t certain where they were. Because of the circuitous route they had-taken, she was completely turned around.
“Oh, poor babies.” Walt glanced toward the fire. “BEAR! You’re gonna burn the dad burn camp to cinders! Ease up on the wood!”
Straightening, Bear looked sheepish. “Sorry, Pa.”
Logs caught and the fire burned even hotter. Walt sat the shotgun down beside him, and by his expression he was thinking seriously about something. “We’re gonna have to kill our supper.”
“Okay, Pa.”
“You go scare us up a few rabbits. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
“What kind?”
“What kind of what?”
“What kind of rabbit?”
“Dad burn it, boy, how many kinds are there?”
“Well, there are brown ones and black ones—”
“Jest get us some grub!” He swore under his breath. “Takes after his ma. That boy ain’t got a lick of sense.”
Bear left, his shotgun tucked under his arm. Walt rose and walked to his horse, where he fished a coffee tin out of a leather saddlebag.
Joanie snuggled closer to Beth, making herself comfortable despite the knapsack on her back. “I’m so tired. I don’t care if I eat or not.”
Beth wasn’t hungry either. Her head ached, and she could hardly hold her eyes open. What a mess she’d gotten Joanie into—and Trella. Maybe they would have been better off picking cotton all day instead of running like criminals from Walt and Bear. Walt bent over the fire, scooping grounds into the pot. Eyeing his backside, Beth wondered if she was strong enough to kick him into the fire and scorch his worthless hide…
Shaking the ugly thought away, she closed her eyes, trying to form a plan. There had to be a way out of this.
Sounds of Bear thrashing through the bushes met the silence. If there was any game, it would be long gone by now.
The thicket snapped. More rustling bushes.
Joanie sat straight up. The fire popped. The faint smell of coffee permeated the air.
Eyes still closed, Beth murmured, “Sit still. You’ll start coughing again.”
“Bear,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about him. It’ll take him hours to scare up some food.”
“Beth…bear.”
“Idiot,” Beth corrected. “The idiot will be gone for a while. With all the noise he’s making, it will take him until morning to gather enough food to feed four of us.”
“No. Bear!”
Beth’s eyes flew open when Joanie sprang to her feet. Walt spotted the black bear at the same time Beth saw it. Grounds spilled from the can as he started to slowly back away from the fire. His shotgun sat ten feet out of reach.
The bear lumbered into camp and paused, its beady eyes focused on the prey.
Joanie clutched Beth’s arm. “What do we do?”
“Don’t bat an eyelash.”
Walt froze into place, his eyes fixed on the animal. Beth could see that though she wasn’t full grown, she could still do serious harm.
For long moments, the animal and humans assessed each other.
Then the bear lunged for Walt, and Beth grabbed Joanie’s hand. “Run!”
Uncle Walt took off and the women ran in the opposite direction. Bushes thrashed and twigs snapped. Glancing over her shoulder, Beth saw that the bear was single-minded after Walt. The animal loped after him even as Beth and Joanie scrambled into the thicket.
Running until her sides hurt, Beth refused to let up. By now she was pulling Joanie’s limp frame along beside her. “What happens…if we run into…bear?” her sister called, gasping for breath.
“Which one!”
“The animal!”
“Run faster.” Beth didn’t have a plan. She hadn’t been expecting this…miracle? Well, if it was a miracle, she wasn’t going to waste it. “Are you praying?”
Joanie’s answer came through a wracking cough. “I…always am!”
It figured. Praying while running your lungs out. That was a different twist on prayer. Beth’s eyes darted
in and out of the tangled bush. She hoped they wouldn’t run into Bear. Her cousin was somewhere foraging for supper. If she saw him, she’d run right past and not give him the chance to catch her.
Moonlight spilled across a road when Beth finally slowed the pace and then stopped. They couldn’t run another step. Dropping to her knees, she spied cedar trees surrounded by a thicket of bushes. Cedar aggravated Joanie’s condition, but their choices were hiding in there or face running into Bear. The man.
“I know this isn’t the ideal hiding place. The cedar will only worsen your lungs, but—”
“I can handle it. I have to. I haven’t breathed well in so long that I think I’m getting used to it.” Joanie collapsed in a heap after Beth shoved her through the bushes, safely out of sight. Beth crawled in behind her.
“We’ll only stay long enough to catch our breath,” Beth promised.
Joanie’s feeble voice came back in a whisper. “I think God has shone on us again.”
“Really?” It was hard to imagine their present circumstance as a gift, but she guessed it wouldn’t hurt anything to let Joanie think of it that way.
“He’s given us yet another place to hide.” Yawning, Joanie closed her eyes.
“But listen to your breathing,” Beth said as fear rose up in her again. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. We could give up. We could return to camp and let Walt and Bear take us back to the plantation.”
Settling back to rest, Joanie slipped her arms from the knapsack and used it for a pillow. “That’s crazy talk, Beth. God’s taking care of us. Besides, we can’t go back. If we do, we’re doomed for life.”
“It seems we’re doomed every way we turn.”
Beth wondered if maybe they should give up right now and stop fighting the inevitable. Or was Joanie right? Had God intervened on their behalf just now? And before, when the men found them at the edge of the field, inches from death? She scoffed at the idea. If God had been working on their behalf, He sure hadn’t done a good job of making certain His protection stuck!
Closing her eyes, she dropped into a fitful sleep next to her sister.
Nine
Daybreak shone through the cedar branches when Beth and Joanie climbed out of the bushes. Dusting off the seats of their pants, the two sisters set off at a slow but steady pace and didn’t stop until they came to a long line of once-groomed hedges. Parting the greenery, Beth’s eyes scanned the sight before her. A dilapidated yet stately three-story brick dwelling on the other side appeared to be occupied. A certain beauty shown through its neglected exterior. Honeysuckle twined around wide white pillars that led to a belfry, where a bell tolled. Listening to the lovely sound, Beth counted the number of peals. Six. Overhead, chirruping birds flittered in and out of overhead roosts. Her gaze found the small plaque near the door: Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton Abbey.
The One Who Waits for Me Page 5