She yelped.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mac leaned against a tree.
She folded it in her palm.
“Pamela, why do we argue so?” He softened his voice.
“I don’t know.” Tears fought to the edges of her eyes.
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I know I’m no good around women, which is why I keep my distance. But it seems every time we talk, we end up arguing. Why is that?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’ve never had this problem with anyone else. I mean arguing. I’ve had other men not take me seriously. Like my father and brother when I warned them about coming west. They didn’t believe me, and look where it got them. They’re both dead.”
“When did your brother die?”
She fumbled for an answer. “Not too long ago.” At least she wasn’t outright lying to him. Could her deceit be a cause of their constant problems?
“I’m sorry for your losses. Look,” he said, noticing the pool behind her. “Beside still waters,” he whispered.
Pamela looked back at the pool and back at Mac. “Twenty-third Psalm?”
“Yup.”
Lord, are You talking to me through Mac? “Mac, I’m sorry we always fight, but do you realize you’ve never given me credit for knowing anything?”
Mac leaned against the large boulder by the stream. “I’m sorry. I guess in some ways you remind me of Tilly, my wife. We fought a lot before she died.”
“I’m sorry. But Mac, I’m not your wife, and I don’t know the first thing about your problems with her. I do, however, know a little something about the problems we’ve been having. For example, you didn’t think I was capable in business. Truthfully, I’m not so certain I’ll do a great job when it comes to handling money. But I do know some things. What you don’t know is that one of my chests has a fake bottom in it with more money than you’ve probably seen in your entire life. It’s the entire Danner family inheritance.”
“What? What are you doing carrying that kind of money on you?”
“There was little choice. Quinton decided it was best.”
“Woman, you’re crazy. Do you have any idea what would happen if word got out about that?”
“All too well.” She rubbed her neck, remembering Jasper’s ugly paws on it.
Mac let out an exasperated sigh and pulled her into his embrace. “I’m sorry.”
She leaned against him and savored his hug. “Mac, I left the money from the sale in the Barbourville bank for that very reason. I didn’t want to face another Jasper on the road, and I was certain word would get around about Mr. Croley purchasing my stock.”
He leaned against the rock she had once been sitting on and continued to hold her. “I’m sorry, Pamela. I didn’t realize. You’re a wise woman, and you’re right, I haven’t given you credit.”
“Thank you, Mac. That means a lot.” She inhaled the deep musky scent that was all Mac. Lord, help me, I could stay in this man’s arms forever.
A shot sounded from the direction of the wagon. Mac sprang up and ran. Pamela followed.
Mac ran hard back toward the wagon. His wound protested. Urias sat backwards on one of the horses with his rifle aimed toward the covered wagon.
“What’s the matter?” Mac cried.
The barrel of the rifle wobbled as Urias’s hands shook. “A bear jumped into the wagon. It’s a dumb one, too. He didn’t leave when I shot the gun.”
“Lower your rifle. I don’t want you shooting me when I go in.” Mac slipped to the backside of the wagon and pulled open the flaps, then moved to the front and pulled open the front flaps. A young bear stood on all fours eating either his or Pamela’s sandwich. Who could tell? “Who cares?” he murmured. “Move on,” he yelled at the bear, who merrily ignored him.
“You’re right,” Mac muttered to Urias. “It is a dumb bear.”
Urias turned toward Mac and gave a full bow while keeping his perch on top of the horse.
The easiest way to handle this, Mac figured, would be to coax the critter out with some more food. Mac jumped down and went to the rear and opened the pantry. Pulling out a small ham, he unwrapped it and waved it in the air in front of the bear.
“What are you doing?” Pamela asked, catching her breath.
“A bear,” Urias informed her.
She slid beside a tree.
Mac moved the ham slowly around the rear of the wagon.
“My ham?” Pamela’s voice squealed.
“All for your safety, my dear.” He smiled and continued to coax the bear.
The young bear licked the outer edges of his mouth, having finished the sandwiches, and sniffed the air. Catching the scent, he let out a soft growl.
Mac motioned for Pamela to work her way to the front of the wagon. The bear stumbled to the rear. “Come on, boy. Come and get it,” Mac urged. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where should I toss it? To the side? But would I get enough distance? If I feed him, how long will he follow? If I throw it down the road, I could get more distance between us and the ham. But would the distance be great enough to keep him occupied for a few minutes?
The front paws of the bear now grasped the back edge of the rear boards. Mac leaned the meat toward the bear’s snout. “That’s it, Boy, come on.”
Raising his snout in protest, the bear growled, then lunged.
Mac tossed the meat down the road and toward the left, hoping it would convince the animal to return to the wilds rather than pursue them. Killing an animal for no reason didn’t set well.
“Run!” he shouted to Pam and Urias.
Pamela jumped up on the wagon. Urias flew off the horse and dove in. Mac ran and leapt up into the rear of the wagon. Pamela had the reins in her hands in seconds. The horses didn’t need any encouragement to run and took off hard. No one spoke a word. Twenty minutes later, Mac took the reins.
Slowing the team down, he encouraged Urias, “You can put your gun down now, son.”
The boy’s white knuckles proved he was still concerned. “Will he come back?” Urias asked, not taking his gaze from the road behind them.
“Possibly, but his belly should be full enough to give us some distance.”
Pamela slipped inside the wagon. The memory of the warmth and softness of her resting in his arms brought back the fresh clean scent of her golden hair. Mac’s heart fluttered. So wonderful were those feelings, he’d started to consider thoughts of kissing her. He didn’t know whether to be upset or grateful for the intrusion of their furry friend. “A blessing,” he muttered.
“What?” Urias asked.
“Sorry, I was thinking how young the bear was. That’s a real blessing.”
“Oh. Was it a young bear who gave you the scars?”
Mac groaned.
“I ain’t goin’ to tell no one. But seein’ that bear made me remember your story. I ain’t big enough to wrestle no bear and live, like you.” Urias looked down at his feet.
“Let’s hope you never have to. The bear I wrestled was much older.” Mac swallowed a lump thicker than the regret he’d felt a moment before when considering his growing affections toward Mrs. Danner. I suppose I could always pay her a visit next spring when I return. Creelsboro isn’t too far from Jamestown, and perhaps the young widow might be ready….
What am I thinking? Lord, help me. You know I’ve sworn off women.
Chapter 14
Pamela stuffed the Indian charm back into her purse. She doubted it had any effect on what just happened between Mac and the bear. But another part of her couldn’t help but wonder. She also knew that Mac didn’t believe in such things, and his Christian faith seemed firmly rooted. Am I that weak, Lord? Have I been playing games with You? She considered Angus and the others. They’d always lived in fear. Mac was the complete opposite; he faced his fears. If she had heard Urias correctly, Mac’s wife had died from a bear attack. I doubt I’d be able to face another bear, Lord.
She straightened the supplies in the back of the wagon. The loss of th
e ham would change the meals she’d planned, but she knew Mac would hunt up something. She would not go hungry with him around.
The wagon bounced. She slipped and lost her footing. “Ouch.”
“Y’all right?” Urias peeked his head in.
She didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m fine.”
Mac seemed to understand the boy. She wanted to help. Was it wrong to encourage him to get an education, to give him a job?
She reached for the canvas flaps to close the wagon’s cabin. Exhaustion washed over her, and she lay down on the bed.
“Hey sleepyhead, time to get up.”
“Huh?” Pamela blinked. Her head felt like tangled wool just waiting to be spun.
“We’re here.” Urias smiled. “Mr. Mac said to wake you up. He’s taken care of the horses. There’s plenty of room in the tavern for us. And don’t be fretting about that ham. Me and Mr. Mac will hunt us some food if we need it. But this place smells great.”
Pamela sat up on the bed, adjusted her hair, and sniffed the air. Her stomach gurgled. The thought of not having to cook and to simply sit down at a fine meal pleased her immensely. “Thanks. Where are we?”
“Halfway to Lynn Camp. We should make it there tomorrow. I gotta go clean up.” Urias jumped out of the wagon. “I’ll see ya inside.”
Her mouth dry and none too fresh, Pamela snipped a small piece of dried mint from her herb collection she’d brought along. The brittle leaf crunched, but its oils refreshed the palate.
The house had a large front porch that spanned the entire length of the building. A warm orange glow in the sky revealed tomorrow should be a very pleasant day for travel.
Pamela blinked going from the dim light outdoors to the even dimmer light indoors. A stout woman in her forties greeted her with a smile. “Welcome. Your menfolk already secured your rooms and let me know y’all be dining this evening.”
“Hi. I’m Pam Danner.” Pamela extended her hand.
The woman wiped hers on her apron. “I’m Bess Smith; Hyram is in the barn with your husband.”
“Mac’s not my husband.”
“Oh, well, we don’t—”
Pamela raised her hands to stop the woman. “Mac will be sharing the room with Urias. I’ll be staying in the single room.”
“All right.” She creased her forehead.
“Mac’s escorting me to Creelsboro.”
“I see.”
It was plain as the woman’s face she didn’t, but Pamela decided not to argue.
“Take a seat and I’ll serve ya soon. Or you can go up to your room. It’s the first room on your right when ya reach the top of the stairs.”
“Thank you.” Pamela decided to sit and wait for Urias and Mac.
Dinner proved very enjoyable once Mrs. Smith understood the circumstances of their traveling together. Of course, the woman now believed her guest was a recent widow. Her belly full, Pamela got up to stretch her legs before retiring for the evening.
“May I join you?” Mac asked.
“Sure. Urias, would you like to come?”
“Nah, I’m going to take in some target practice. Mac showed me a few things while you were sleeping.”
“You fired a gun and I didn’t wake up?” Pam knew she slept well but …
Mac chuckled. “No, though I’d wager you could have slept through it if we had.”
“You were snoring.” Urias laughed.
“I don’t snore,” Pamela protested, then promptly sneezed.
“Must be a cold coming on.” Mac smiled.
Urias pushed himself from the table. “I’ll see ya soon.”
She watched him tuck his unruly red curls under his cap and exit the tavern. “He’s an interesting kid.”
“Yeah. I like the manners he’s been showing, but I’m praying they aren’t a way of trying to convince us he’s something that he isn’t.”
“Is he old enough to be that deceitful?”
Mac helped pull her chair from the table. What’s this new behavior in Mac? she wondered.
Pamela inhaled deeply as she stepped outside, the fresh air a welcome relief. The tavern’s heat and the odors from the cooking no longer seemed quite so wonderful now that she had a full stomach.
Mac walked beside her and folded his hands behind him. “Pamela, I want to apologize. I’ve been far too hard on you.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing out here. This is my father’s dream, my … Quinton’s dream. I never wanted to leave Virginia in the first place. And it didn’t help any with Angus’s warnings before we left.”
They continued walking along the road. The stars sparkled like finely polished silver.
“Who’s Angus?”
“An old slave who worked for my parents. He’s been around all my life. He said he read it in the leaves.”
Mac placed his hand on her and stopped. “I thought you were a Christian.”
“I am.” She looked down at her feet. “Look, I know most Christians say not to believe in such stuff, but I hear them saying and doing things all the time that show they really do. Like the number thirteen. Can a number be a bad number?”
“No, I don’t believe thirteen is a bad number, and personally, I don’t care what others believe. But I do care about you, Pamela, and I’d hate to see you trusting in what the Bible calls the elemental spirits of this world. There’s no question some of these spirits have some sort of power, but I think people give them more power than they really have. I’d love to continue this discussion, but it’s getting darker and we should return. Will you stay outside and sit on the porch with me?”
“All right, but my father and Quinton argued until they were exasperated with me.”
Mac roared. “Well, we know I can get that way with you, too. Come on, let me explain my thinking on the matter.”
Pamela slipped her arm through the crook of Mac’s elbow as he escorted her back to the house. Lord, what’s wrong with me? I love just holding on to this man.
“I think you heard me mention Black Hawk, my Indian friend.”
Pamela acknowledged his comment with a slight nod of her head.
“Well, Black Hawk had a religion that the Bible mentions as believing in the elemental spirits of this world. It’s the one his ancestors taught him. His beliefs ran deep, very deep. I used to spend hours talking with him about God, the Bible, and the difference between the Great Spirit he knew and the Holy Spirit I know. To make a long story short, it took stripping the man of his heritage, forcing him to live in a place he didn’t want to live, before God got through to him. I’m not saying that means what we’ve done in moving the Indians west is right. I’m just saying that it was what the Lord used to reach Black Hawk. My friend could relate to the Jews who were taken from their land and used as slaves.
“I don’t believe all this hardship comes just so you can learn to trust God, but …”
Pamela pulled the charm from her purse. “I bought this in Barbourville.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“They said it was an Indian charm for good luck.”
Mac grabbed the charm and huffed. “No, it’s a fetish. It represents a spiritual guide in the form of a wolf to lead you.”
“Well, once the bear was in the wagon, I knew it wasn’t working.”
“Answer me honestly, Pam. Would you really want the spirit of an animal guiding you rather than the Spirit of our mighty God in heaven?”
“Of course not.” She sighed. But isn’t that what I’ve been doing?
“You said your friend read tea leaves. Can the leaves of tea sticking to the bottom of your cup really say anything?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. It’s too hard to say. So many things Angus said over the years came true.”
“I can’t explain how that happens, but I know I serve a God who’s real. He’s alive and …” Mac paused.
Pamela reached out and grabbed his hands. “What’s the matter?”
“I just answered some of my own
questions.”
“You? You have questions about God? I thought you were like a preacher, you know so much.”
Mac chuckled. “Far from it. And I’m not perfect, Pamela. If anyone has seen that, it’s you.”
“What questions were just answered for you?”
“The last verse of the Twenty-third Psalm.”
“You’ve been reading that, too?” Does everyone read this psalm? she wondered.
“For years, but I just understood what the first verse, ‘The Lord is my shepherd,’ is saying. The last verse concludes with ‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.’ I mean, I wouldn’t allow myself to live in God’s grace because of blaming myself for Tilly’s death.”
“Mac, what happened to Tilly?”
For the next few minutes Mac described his relationship with Tilly, how they courted, married, and moved to the mountains. She didn’t like living in the mountains and wanted to return home. Apparently, she’d never really loved him but had married him for the family inheritance she felt would be hers one day.
“I haven’t spoken about this for a couple years now, and in a few short days I’ve spoke on it three, no, four occasions.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’d like to be friends, Pamela. I know I haven’t been the most sociable of persons, but you impress me.” He fumbled with the charm in his hand. “You don’t need this, Pam. You simply need to trust God, even when death encircles you.”
Pam closed her eyes and bowed her head. In some far reach of her mind, she knew his words were correct, but she doubted she had faith that strong.
“I won’t force you to throw this away. But I think you should.” He placed it back in her hands. It felt heavy, cold, lifeless.
“Good night, Pamela. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She sat there for a while and let the evening’s words replay in her mind. If God was her Shepherd, did she need to believe in omens and elemental spirits? Identifying the omens, the Indian charms, or fetishes as “elemental spirits” caused her to rethink the matter.
An owl screeched.
Pam jumped up and went to bed.
Mac felt years younger the next morning as he harnessed the team. He’d spent his devotions praising God, at last reconciled to Tilly’s death. She had known better than to leave the house. And she was responsible for her choices. Together, they should have worked things out. But he’d been so hurt by her confession that she’d only married him for the inheritance, he’d left her to fend for herself that day.
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