“Yes.” Velma’s brown eyes widened. “That’s his voice—it had a raspy tone to it. It’s got to be him.” She motioned to Mr. Beckler.
He walked over, bending close.
“What?”
“That rider. We think he was one of two gold miners who, a few years back, delivered news of my husband’s death.”
“I wonder why he’s returned.” Ella gathered her skirt and rose from the quilt. Curiosity drew her to the bedraggled figure on the weary horse. She walked under the trees into the sunlight. “Josh?”
“Ella Dessa, stop.” Samuel trotted toward her, reaching for her shoulder.
She raised a hand to ward off her friend’s restraining touch.
“Let the men deal with this.”
“I know his name.” She quickened her steps.
The stranger’s head turned. “Miss Ella Des … sa.” His shaky voice contained a note of awe, loud enough for all to hear. “You’ve grown. An’ you wear your hair up—like a lady.”
“What brings you here? I pray it’s not to report another death.”
Her dress dragged through the tall grass, bending the stalks in its wake. A knot of inquisitive people moved out of the shade into the sunlit field. She felt their stares and anxious whispers.
Haunted dark eyes searched her face. A freshly healed wound marred his right cheek. His upper body swayed as his knees clenched the horse’s sides.
“I’m starved.”
“They’re fetchin’ food.”
He slumped sideways in the saddle.
She yelled for help and tried to steady his body, but she was too short. In slow motion, he slid from the saddle and landed at her feet. His hat came off, revealing greasy, black hair.
Men surged forward.
She knelt, resting her hand on Josh’s chest and searching for a heartbeat.
“Let me.” Jim jostled her and knelt. He placed an ear to the man’s chest. “He’s breathing. Is Granny here?” He turned, searching the crowd for their old midwife.
“They’ll bring her,” Mr. Beckler said. “Best get him in the shade.”
Within minutes, several men carried the man’s limp body into the shadow of a nearby oak. Ella knelt beside him, brushing long tangled hair from his face. He resembled a corpse—bone thin. His skin molded to his high cheekbones.
“I cain’t kneel.” Granny Hanks, the settlement’s midwife and only doctor, hobbled to where the man lay. “Bring the bench I were sittin’ on. I’m too old to stand. Fetch a rag an’ water.”
“I got water. Samuel’s bringing your bench.” Jim set a bucket in the tall grass and knelt beside Ella. Grasshoppers took to the air, their iridescent wings twirling in flight. “Did he say your name?”
“Yes. Three years ago he brung word Velma’s husband died.”
“So he’s a gold miner?” Their fingertips touched as he handed her a rag. His gray eyes searched her face.
“Yes.” She dipped the torn cloth in the water, dabbing it across Josh’s forehead and sides of his neck, unable to keep her hand from shaking.
“He looks like death.” Jim stood as his brother brought a bench.
“Granny, here’s your bench.” Samuel positioned it so the old woman could sit. “That fellow’s horse has suffered some fearsome treatment. I’ll tie it to a tree until the preacher decides where to put this man.”
“You!” Granny pointed an arthritic finger at a man in the small crowd gathered under the trees. “Come here.”
“Granny, his name is Miles Kilbride,” Jim said, as the man removed his hat and hurried to obey Granny’s abrupt command. “He and his wife are visiting my sister and the schoolteacher.”
“So? He can help. No strangers ‘mongst us.”
Miles Kilbride!
Ella bowed her head and stared at the long grass. She clenched the wet rag in her hand and watched water drip on her skirt. Her heart raced. The man’s handsome face and curly dark hair were the same as when he attended the schoolteacher’s wedding years before.
It’s his last name written with mine in Mama’s Bible! Can he be the same man?
The old midwife leaned forward, bracing her elbows on skirt-covered knees. “Raise his shirt.” Her chestnut-brown eyes narrowed with disquiet as she waited for the stranger to do her bidding.
Ella jumped to her feet and stepped out of his way.
Miles knelt and lifted the dirty shirt. He pushed it toward the man’s neck. Everyone gasped in horror. Ribs stood out against wasted pale skin. A six-inch, reddened cut, the puckered edges infected, traveled over the left side of his skinny chest.
He was a mere skeleton—with what might be a fatal wound.
“Ah, Lord have mercy on ‘im.” Granny raised a wrinkled hand to cover her heart. “Leigh Chesley, you live the closest. Might we use yer place?” She pointed across the field where the preacher’s log cabin stood against a forest of huge pines. “If we git vittles in him, you might not hav’ta do his buryin’.”
Leigh shrugged, glancing at his wife. “Naomi?”
His attractive wife nodded and turned away from the emaciated man and his festering wound. “Put him in Torrin and Brody’s room,” she said, referring to their twins. “Those rambunctious boys beg to sleep in their tree house. Now they can.”
“I’ll need men to help carry him that far.” Leigh shoved his wire spectacles up on the bridge of his nose. “By the looks of him, I don’t see it as a difficult task.”
The picnic atmosphere turned somber. Women slipped away to pack belongings and lay remnants of cloth over baskets of food—warding off the flies. Children wandered off to play quietly, as if sensing the weight of shock on everyone.
Ella ignored the man named Miles, who stood and joined the other men. How could she bear to be near him—the man she suspected might be her father? He didn’t belong in the cove, nor had he ever lived there.
Granny’s quivering hand grasped Ella’s shoulder. “I need help gettin’ to my feet. There ain’t no arms on this bench.”
“Let me be the arms.” She stood in front of the aged woman, extending her hands. “Take hold an’ stand. Shall we have ‘em bring a wagon for you?”
“No, I’m good after I git my feet under me.” With a groan, the midwife bent forward. Her crippled fingers tugged at Ella’s hands as she stood. “Let me hang to yer arm.” She hobbled toward the preacher’s log home.
Two men lifted Josh under the arms and knees and carried him between them. People followed. Velma seized the opportunity to explain to others about the two gold miners who had brought news of her husband’s death—over three years before.
“Step careful.” Ella kept her arm around Granny’s thin waist, guiding her through the tall grass and wild flowers. Bees buzzed around them. “Almost there.”
Jim caught up. “Ella, I can walk Granny inside. You best stay here.”
“Why?” She raised her eyebrows. “Huh?”
“It might not … ah, be proper for you to be with him. Let Naomi help. It’s her home.”
“What?” Twisting around, she managed to steady the old woman and stare Jim in the eye. “Proper?” She felt perturbed at his remark, but a faint thrill caused her heart to sing. Jim had made it his task to address something she did.
“He means you bein’ unmarried.” Granny halted near the porch steps. She gasped and laid a hand on her chest. She commenced to add her two bits to the strange conversation. “Young man, are ye betrothed to Ella Dessa Huskey?” Her watery brown eyes demanded an immediate, truthful answer.
Ella enjoyed Jim’s stunned expression, even though her heart doubled its beats. Rather than blushing, she felt the urge to giggle.
“Ah, no.” A reddish hue stained his cheeks. He rubbed his right thumb and fingers down over his dark mustache. “But—”
“Then I ain’t aware of yer right to speak for Ella Dessa.” She shook a gnarled finger at his nose. “She’s with me.”
“I just … thought …” He stammered at her blunt words
. “Yes’um.”
“Granny, watch your step.” Ella avoided Jim’s eyes as she helped the old midwife climb the four steps. In her head, she kept hearing Granny’s unexpected question. Young man, are ye betrothed to Ella Dessa Huskey?
Naomi pointed. “In there. The men left him dressed but uncovered.” Curious onlookers came up the steps, joining them.
In the sparse room, Ella stood beside the low bed. She turned away as Granny lifted the unconscious man’s soiled shirt, but she remained fully aware of Jim’s presence. Glancing toward the floor, she saw her long skirt brush the leg of his pants.
If I reach four inches to the right, my hand might touch his.
Granny bent an ear to the man’s ribs. Her age-spotted knuckles tapped Josh’s boney chest. Then she ran arthritic fingers over the reddened, scabbed cut.
Inner turmoil threatened to choke Ella. Three different men, within an arm’s length, now affected her life in one way or another. Just across the bed from her stood Miles, the man whom she suspected had known her own mama—known her in an intimate, immoral way. His presence shook her and made her want to run. But she also felt determined to stay by Josh’s side, though horrified by the skinny man’s physical condition. She was the only person, besides Velma, who recognized him. Then there was the desire to turn to Jim and hide her face against his solid chest.
The midwife grunted, continuing her exam. Her practiced fingers moved lower and traveled over the man’s ribs, pressing against his sunken stomach, which showed above the waistband of his dark pants.
“Ella Dessa, yer hands are steady. Place yer fingers on his neck, under his ear, an’ tell me how his heart is beatin’. That’s the spot.” Her weary eyes closed. “Quiet in the room.”
“Faint an’ wobbly,” she said in a whisper. Josh’s skin felt cool under her shaky fingers. “Granny, what do you think?”
“I see no sickness ‘bout ‘im. No fever. He’s jest starved ’most to death. He’s weak from a knife wound. Strange he showed up here.” She motioned to the preacher’s wife standing in a corner. “Naomi, please cook down some broth—of whatever meat you have.” She sank to a chair someone placed close to the bed. “Ella Dessa, when Naomi brings the broth, raise his head. Give ‘im only tiny sips, ‘til he speaks or opens his eyes. No solids.” She groaned. “I’m tired from walkin’.”
Miles circled the end of the bed and faced Ella. His warm brown eyes swept over her face. “I’m your teacher’s uncle. We met at his wedding a few years ago.”
“Yes … you and your w-wife.” She stared at the thin rag rug under her feet. Her heart thumped in her chest.
“Jim indicated you‘ve met this man—in the past?”
“Yes. Once.” His apparent compassion for Josh, a stranger, surprised her. It evoked a collection of feelings she couldn’t understand. “He an’ another man, years ago, brung bad news to the woman I live with—her husband got killed while diggin’ for gold.”
Miles frowned and rubbed a hand over his beardless chin. “You know, I believe I recognize him. When I came to this cove a few years back, I gave two men some directions. I’m sure he was one of them, but he wasn’t this skinny.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
She told herself to stop worrying. Miles could never discover what she thought to be the truth in their relationship. As far as others were concerned, the man was Konrad’s uncle. He was there to build a school building in the cove.
“Let ever’one step out.” Granny spoke to Leigh and Naomi. “Could both of ye undress ‘im?”
Miles motioned Ella ahead of him. “Have you lived here all your life?”
She reached the bottom of the steps to the connecting porch, before turning to face him. “Yes, every bit.” She found it hard to meet the inquisitive stare in his pleasant brown eyes. Words about her mama wanted to burst from her lips.
“It’s beautiful country.”
“I think so.” She gazed at their surroundings. This man might be my father—a man who never knew I existed?
The midday wind rifled through the sundrenched field of grass, red clover, and wildflowers. It uplifted their fragrances, blending them into one delicate scent, which she recognized every summer. A gray clump of clouds crawled over the mountain, a tiny promise of rain. But male voices caused her to turn from the welcoming sight.
Jim and another man strode past. His loud remark could be overheard.
“It wouldn’t surprise me to hear he’s dead before morning. If he lives, he’ll have a wicked knife scar. It’ll be a blessing if he can hide it.”
“I agree. Someone tried to butcher him. Wonder why.”
Ella’s back stiffened at Jim’s words. What does he think of my neck? I cain’t hide my scars. They’ll never go away. They reached clear to her heart.
Miles turned to her. “There’s not much stamina left in that man’s starved body. He’ll be blessed if it’s only a scar he has to worry about. I wonder what brought him here?”
Unbidden tears stung her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She knew nothing about Josh. She hated to think of anyone in such awful condition, and death was worse than scars. Does he have a family? If he dies, will they ever know?
“I’m sorry I upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She wiped her cheeks.
Through a break in the trees, she saw Sophie step from a group of women and run to Jim. She leaned extra close, listening to something he said. She could imagine their exchange about the skinny stranger in the preacher’s house.
Ella glanced up at Miles and met his brown eyes. “I need to be alone.”
“I understand.”
She watched him walk to his dark-haired wife. His right arm slipped around the woman’s delicate waist. He shook his head.
He’ll never know ‘bout Mama.
“Need to talk?” Samuel stepped close, arms folded across his muscular chest. The mild wind ruffled his hair. He appeared to be mulling something over in his mind.
“No.”
“I’m confused.” His bluish-green eyes had an uncanny habit of searching her face for answers. He could read her moods all too well.
“You are?”
“That skinny man wasn’t a friend of yours or Velma’s. So … why the tears?”
“Samuel, please.” She wasn’t in the mood to make up an elaborate story as to why she shed a few tears. “It was awful when he fell off the horse.” She couldn’t tell her best friend she yearned after his oldest brother. And she could never reveal facts about her own parentage—her connection to the generous stranger moving to the cove.
“Please, talk to me.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know you. You’re upset. It’s got me worried.” He reached for her hand.
Ella backed away. “Samuel, it’s nothin’.”
She fled toward the comfort of the church, her skirt tangling around her running legs. She wanted to hide inside the cool interior, to still her inner quaking and resentment. With a sweeping glance at a group of women collected nearby, she circled them and went up the steps of the log church. The dim interior offered solace.
The cool surface of a flat bench supported her body. Her heart ached. She stared at the low platform where every Sabbath she saw Leigh Chesley stand and speak of sins, peace, resentment, and forgiveness.
Would someone discover her mama’s sin? Would they find out that she, Ella Dessa, was the result of her mama’s immoral relationship with Miles Kilbride? She needed to pray about all those things. How could she forever hide secrets about her dead mama?
Josh’s bedraggled, half-starved appearance at the picnic had been a shock. She felt sorry for him and his plight. Ella figured she needed to be praying for him as she sat there. But instead, the sight of Jim and Sophie talking together made her feel jealous and lonely.
The bumpy scars, etching a path from her left shoulder to her chest, had always affected her. Now they would separate her from ever experiencing a man’s love. Resentment at what life had dealt washed over her.
>
Who would want me?
A beam of sunlight flashed through the dim interior. The quiet creak of a board told her someone had entered the church. The rustle of fabric announced the presence of a woman standing at the end of the rough bench.
Reluctantly, she raised her head and met the woman’s sympathetic gaze.
“May I sit with you?” Miles Kilbride’s wife pointed at the bench. Her low voice contained an unfamiliar accent.
Ella shrugged and wiped her runny nose on her sleeve.
“My husband reminded me … you are Ella Dessa. We met briefly, a few years ago. My name is Leona. He is the uncle to your teacher.”
“Yes.”
“It is sad—about this starving man. I saw you slip in here. I do not pretend to know you. But you might need comfort?” She slid onto the bench. The crisp material of her dark-green dress pressed against Ella’s limp skirt.
“I just came to … think.”
Leona took Ella’s hand in hers. Covering and patting it, she continued, “You’ve become a young lady since I last saw you, years ago, at Konrad and Grace’s wedding.”
“I’m past sixteen.”
The woman’s dark eyes met her quick glance. “Ahh. I see sorrow in your eyes. It isn’t brought to the front by this poor wounded traveler. It’s something else or someone different. Do you need to talk?”
Ella bowed her head and chewed on her lip, not welcoming the scrutiny of the woman’s kind gaze. How would Leona react if told the truth? Would she be stricken with anguish upon learnin’ her husband conceived a child with a young girl he didn’t marry?
“There’s nothin’ to talk of.” Ella tried to still the unsteady rise and fall of her chest.
She felt the woman’s long fingers smooth her hair. The faint scent of roses followed Leona’s fingertips.
“The sick man … you know of him?”
“Saw him once, years ago. An older man and him brung news how a friend’s husband died. Then they left. They were gold miners.”
“I understand.” Leona laced her fingers in her lap and stared straight ahead.
Ella studied the woman out of the corner of her eye. Leona’s elegant profile revealed raven-black upswept hair and a slender neck posed above a ruffled white blouse.
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