Remember Me When: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  Roger never should have forgotten those kindnesses. He never should have returned evil for good.

  Partway up the mountain, chilled to the bone, Faith heard the distinct sound of something—or someone—moving between the trees and underbrush. Her heart skipped a beat. Two….

  Dread filled her.

  Should she have come at all?

  Had she put herself foolishly in danger by wanting to do good?

  She patted the lead mule’s neck to urge her along. “Move, Maisie. We must get there soon.”

  As she always did, the animal responded by picking up her pace. Daisy followed. Lazy…well, Lazy insisted on continuing as he’d begun. He always lagged behind, even when it was crucial that he follow Faith’s orders. Like now.

  But, no. The ornery critter dawdled as her fear continued to build.

  She heard it again, the sound of an approaching…what? Animal would be best. They were usually more frightened by a person than the person was of them. It might not be anything more than a deer or some such thing. But a stranger in the woods? One thing Faith had learned: You could never trust a person by simply seeing them or even listening to them. You had to get to know someone, truly know them, before you could trust. She didn’t trust anyone anymore.

  “Whoa!” a man cried.

  Faith spun around.

  A stranger indeed, the disreputable-looking fellow hastily doffed his stained, tattered hat and bobbed his head, the matted dark hair never moving with the gesture of greeting. “Well, hello there, miss. Strange sight for a body to see, a lady walking in the woods.”

  Heart pounding, Faith stood tall, determined to give at least the appearance of confidence and assurance. She hoped this filthy person was one in need rather than one with wicked intent.

  “I’ve a shipment of supplies to deliver to the logging camp. We’re on our way there. And, you, sir? Who might you be?”

  “I’m David Worley, at your service, ma’am.” He made a small bow, and in spite of her common sense, Faith found herself being charmed. He went on. “Ain’t that something? It happens that I’m on my way right there, right now, myself. If it wouldn’t be a bother to ya, I’d much ’preciate the honor of escortin’ you there. A lady ain’t safe out here like this, you know.”

  Only after she’d heard his voice clearly and taken a better look at him did she realize he was quite young, perhaps not much older than her own twenty-two years. How did a man let himself get like…that?

  As seconds lengthened into minutes, Faith watched Mr. Worley’s expression change. Deep disappointment replaced the eager good spirits. In the mottled light of the forest, she thought she saw a shadow of pain, perhaps shame, cross his face. Guilt struck her.

  “Your company would be my pleasure, Mr. Worley.” She prayed that would remain true. “Having a fellow traveler will help make the time go by much better. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  “Me? Oh, I’m not interesting, ma’am. How ’bout you tell me your name?”

  She did, then smiled. “Now tell me where you’re from.”

  As they followed the trail, Faith leading Maisie and the other two in their usual positions behind her, Mr. Worley on the other side of the animals, they carried on an easy, mostly one-sided conversation. Faith found it easy to draw him out, since her new acquaintance clearly liked to talk.

  “I’m from Pendleton, Miss Faith, and that’s where one Mr. Nathan Bartlett and I met up. He come out on business, he did, and he knew someone I knew, too, so that’s how we met one day. We got us to talking, and he told me ’bout how he had lumbering work and needed men to do it. I told him I was his man.”

  “So you followed Mr. Bartlett out here.”

  “Indeed, Miss Faith. Man’s gotta jump when he hears of good, steady work, you know? But it took me a while to make it out to this mountain of Mr. Bartlett’s, seeing as I had to work my way here, not having much money to count on when I started my trip, see.” He looked around them at the dense forest, awe on his face. “It’s right big, ain’t it, now?”

  She chuckled, but didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to say. Mr. Bartlett’s mountain was impressive.

  “Yessir, ma’am. I been in woods before, but not like this. It sure is big, and full of trees, like Mr. Bartlett said. A feller can see how he would want to sell off some of ’em for lumber. And now I’m here, why, I’m ready to work. Been a logger for a span of years past, and I ain’t married up yet. How about you?”

  The light of interest in Mr. Worley’s eyes made Faith blush right up to her hair. “I’m married. To Mr. Roger Nolan, the owner of the general store at the bottom of this trail. That’s why I’m taking their supplies up to Mr. Bartlett’s camp. They ordered them and my husband…well, it was best for me to bring them straight away.”

  The conversation never flagged, mostly on account of Mr. Worley liking to chatter. Faith appreciated his company, since he distracted her from her thoughts. Anything that took her mind off what lay before her upon her return to the general store was fine by her.

  Right around midmorning, Nathan thought he heard people on the trail to the camp. Since he hadn’t been expecting anyone, he hurried toward the mouth of the path, curiosity and alarm mingling. A man never knew what might come his way on this untamed mountain. To his amazement, he found a shivering Mrs. Nolan with her three mules, loaded to the utmost, hurrying toward him. The logger he’d met the last time he’d gone to Pendleton walked alongside the lead mule.

  “What’s happened to Roger?” he asked. “How about Theo? Why are you the one who’s had to bring up this order? It’s turned mighty cold these last few days. I never would have sent a lady to do a man’s job, Mrs. Nolan.” He turned toward his would-be employee. “And how come you’re with the lady, Worley? Although, I’m glad you’re finally here, seeing as how I can use an extra hand, we’ve so much work. I had hoped to see you sooner.”

  Mr. Worley took off his ragged hat to greet his new employer and give him a long-winded account of the various delays he’d faced. When done, he turned back to Maisie and went to work on the knots around one of the bundles, as Mr. Bartlett had asked him to do.

  Nathan then walked over to Faith’s side. “You haven’t said what happened to the brothers, ma’am.”

  She blinked and, almost as if she’d been a slow-thawing mountain stream in springtime, responded after a minute or maybe more, as though she’d needed to register his words. She surprised him with how long it took her to respond, since he didn’t think he’d said anything too complicated to grasp.

  “So—sorry, Mr. Bartlett. Roger is…well, indisposed, and Theo’s gone. He was no longer around by the time I left.”

  Her response struck Nathan as more vague than necessary, and he wondered if she’d lied. Why? He couldn’t imagine. Before he could probe, however, she went on.

  “I was the only one left who could bring your supplies. I—I hope you don’t object too much, sir.”

  Anger boiled in Nathan’s gut, but he squelched it. It wouldn’t do to take out his disgust with the lazy, good-for-nothing brothers on this decent, hardworking woman. “No, no. Of course, I don’t object. But, really, now. They never should have sent you out on a day like today. It’s mighty chilly out in these woods, ma’am.”

  She shivered, clearly in agreement. “I couldn’t let your supplies stay in our storeroom for any length of time, especially when you and your men need them. It would have been wrong, seeing as how you didn’t get the order when you expected from the start.”

  He arched a brow. “As it was wrong for them to send you out to do their work, no?”

  “Oh, but they didn’t send me out.”

  When she blushed but didn’t continue, Nathan didn’t prod. It became obvious by what she didn’t say that the brothers had no idea she’d come to make the delivery. She’d taken it upon herself to do right by him and his men. He could only wonder what might have led to that situation, but he could easily imagine various scenarios that might
come to pass when she returned home, none of them pleasant for her.

  He set his jaw in a hard line. He’d have a talk with Roger as soon as he could get down there to be sure she suffered no consequences for her actions.

  “In that case,” he told her as he led the way to the main cabin on the compound, “why don’t you take a minute to rest while we unload? I’m sure you want to be back home before the sun begins to set.”

  She shook her head and turned back toward the mules. Nathan couldn’t see her face, and he found himself irritated by her minor evasion. He’d wanted to see her response to his mention of her return to the Nolan household.

  She only murmured, “I appreciate your understanding.”

  He kept walking. At the door to the large main log cabin at the center of the semicircle of buildings that made up his camp, Nathan scraped his boots against the metal bar his cook had attached to a slab of lumber. Rough as bark himself, Woody still liked to keep the floors as clean as possible.

  Nathan opened the door and called out. “Sam! Davey…Woody? We need you to give us a hand unloading supplies. Mrs. Nolan has most kindly brought them to us, and we need help to get her back on her way to the general store.”

  The two loggers he’d called came out and between them, Worley, and Nathan untying bundle after bundle, they relieved the pack animals of their loads in no time.

  As they worked, Nathan couldn’t help but admire the healthy condition of the mules. The day he helped Roger find the wandering male, he’d learned Mrs. Nolan was the one who saw to the animals’ care. From all he could see, she did an excellent job of it, as she also did an excellent job of running the general store.

  Seeing how she did so much, he had to wonder…what did Roger and Theo do?

  She really was an asset. He couldn’t understand why Roger didn’t appreciate her. He wouldn’t mind hiring her to run his general store, not that he thought Roger ever would stand for that.

  He heard a familiar limping gait from inside the cabin. Woody stuck his nearly bald head out the door. “Ya pulled me away from my baking,” he muttered, scratching his grizzled beard. “Better be for a good reason, boss.”

  Faith gasped.

  Nathan cast a look over his shoulder.

  Worry drew a pair of fine lines between her delicate, arched brows. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her green eyes sped from Woody to him and back to the cantankerous cook. She took what appeared to be a protective step toward the older man.

  Nathan clenched his jaw. He’d always had his suspicions about her situation at home, but she’d covered it well. Now, reading only too well the expression on her face, Nathan knew he had to make light of the moment, even though intense thoughts as to Roger’s fate sped through his mind. As if there was any way to take Woody’s harmless complaints other than with a dose of good humor. He laughed.

  “Is that all the thanks I get?” he asked the camp cook. “All I’ve heard from you for days now is how we’ve been on the brink of disaster, seeing as we didn’t have much more than sacks of flour and beans left. Hope you’ll be happy to hear Mrs. Nolan has been kind enough to bring the supplies I ordered. Come on out here. Give us a hand, why don’t you?”

  As Woody limped toward the mules, another stream of muttered protests pouring from his lips, Mrs. Nolan continued to study the two of them, not moving one whit from where her feet seemed planted in the hardscrabble soil of the clearing. Moments later, Nathan watched as she appeared to will herself to relax.

  He relaxed as well. Woody was harmless, all talk and vinegar, but as big-hearted as any man could be. He himself was rightly fond of the old codger. If the tough old-timer even had a whiff of what Nathan feared was happening to the lovely young woman who stood before them, he doubted the Nolan men would withstand Woody’s fury.

  After experiencing the atrocities of war, Nathan wanted nothing to do with any kind of fighting. Even so, he was having a hard enough time himself resisting the urge to rush down the trail and confront the pair. But that would doubtless lead to some kind of physical altercation. Even if he ignored that, if they survived, Mrs. Nolan would ultimately pay the price for their injuries.

  He’d seen too much precious blood spilled, too many lives lost.

  He’d told God he would never condone so much as a flying fist. He wasn’t about to change his promise to his heavenly Father now. He’d have to find another way to protect the gentle woman who’d risked her safety in more ways than one to do what she believed was only right. For his benefit, at that.

  Her courage was something he never would forget.

  Chapter 4

  All the way back down the trail, Faith alternated between praying and wondering how long ago Roger had awoken. The one thing she knew with certainty was his reaction once he’d finally roused himself, and discovered her gone and the camp order missing.

  Regardless, she’d spent long enough without doing a thing about righting some of Roger’s wrongs. No more. She couldn’t stomach any more years—even a day—of cowardice. While she’d been little more than a girl with no practical knowledge when her parents had died, she’d lived a lifetime in the last three years. A dreadful one, at that. In that time, she’d learned that she ultimately answered to Almighty God instead of to Roger Nolan, no matter what her husband thought or said.

  The closer she drew to the general store, the more unsettled she became. Her shoulders grew rock-hard, her stomach churned with each step, and her head pounded. She knew what she was about to face, and she dreaded every second of it.

  But when she walked into the clearing, she spotted three horses tied to the hitching rail Roger had installed for the store’s customers. She let out the breath she’d been holding as she hurried to the barn. The three mules followed her, one right behind the other.

  She quickly brushed them down, made sure the water in the trough wasn’t crusted over with bits of hay and corn or a film of ice, since it had grown increasingly colder during her return trip, and double checked the stall door to make sure it had latched properly. Once, when Lazy had managed to open the stall, he’d made his way to the alfalfa pail and had himself a grand old time eating all that had been left in the bottom. There hadn’t been much. Lazy hadn’t agreed with Faith’s relief at the small quantity. He’d banged the pail against every surface he could find, letting anyone within a broad and wide area know his opinion.

  A prayer on her lips, she hurried to the general store. Once inside, she realized the business portion of the building was deserted. From the living quarters, however, she heard the men’s voices. At that moment, they were laughing.

  She gave thanks for the hilarity, since that meant Roger should be in a passable mood. At least right then.

  Before she’d left that morning, she’d set a crock full of soaked beans on the back corner of the stove, letting them cook slowly with molasses, chunks of bacon, and a good handful of onions. As she approached the doorway, the scent of the cooking food met her senses.

  Head held high, she hurried into the room, all the while she unwrapped the shawl from around her head. “Will your guests be staying for supper, Roger? I’m thankful I started the beans before I left. They need a long cooking time, and by now they’re most likely done.”

  As she hooked the wrap on a peg on the wall, she heard movement behind her. She turned, and saw the two officers rise to their feet.

  “’Evening, Missus Nolan,” said, Captain Roberts.

  At his side, the younger one nodded, his gaze firmly on Faith. “Nice to see you today, ma’am.”

  She cast a sideways look as she crossed to the stove. No one could have missed the barely sheathed anger on Roger’s face. Because he had company with him, however, he turned toward the three other men at the table with him, and asked if they cared to eat.

  “That’d be right nice,” the captain said, seeming to speak for all of Roger’s military guests. She blushed at the memory of the last time they’d met, the time when he’d spotted the bruise
on her wrist. Embarrassment flooded her, but she couldn’t let her discomfort show. She had a meal to serve.

  “It won’t take long,” she said.

  “See that you don’t take long,” her husband snarled. “It’s far past suppertime.”

  She winced.

  “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Nolan,” Captain Roberts said as she checked on the beans. “I do appreciate it.”

  She cast another glance over her shoulder then spoke to the other guests, to make sure what was expected of her. “Will you be eating with us, too?”

  The other man, a sharp-featured soldier with thinning, sandy hair, nodded absently.

  “Very well.” She stirred the beans with a long-handled wooden spoon. “I’ll have fresh biscuits ready in no time.”

  As shamed as she felt, and as much as she dreaded the time when she’d have to face Roger after what she’d done, she felt the need to do her best with the meal. If not for Roger, then for Captain Roberts’s sake. The few times she’d met him, he’d treated her kindly, with a proper, businesslike demeanor. And while his pity rankled, she suspected it stemmed from a compassionate nature.

  The least she could do was feed the men, since the guests’ presence offered a cushion between her and Roger’s displeasure. Even if it would only be a temporary barrier. She mixed up an extra measure of biscuit dough in gratitude.

  She stepped to the cabinet on the far kitchen wall, and took out tin plates and cups. She placed them on the broad work shelf the brothers had built for her between the Excelsior and the back kitchen door, then returned to the stove for the bean crock. By the time the aroma of the biscuits let her know they were close to done, she had everything else ready for the meal.