Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  “I’m supposed to report to a Jim Dixon.”

  “You’ve got the wrong place. He’s about a half-mile down Possum Road.”

  Was everything named after an animal? “Please. I’ve come a long way. I’m looking for a warm place to lie down.”

  “Let him in, child. Dixon told me a teacher would be arriving.” An older woman’s voice rang out as glorious as angels singing to Jacob’s tired body.

  The girl lowered her rifle and ushered him inside. Jacob stepped into the warm glow from the fire and gaped. She wasn’t just a girl, but the prettiest yellow-haired woman he’d ever seen. He closed his mouth before she thought him an idiot. He thrust out his hand. “I’m Jacob Wright.”

  Eyes shining like polished buttons peered at him then glared at his hand for a moment before slipping her fingers in his and giving a quick shake. “Phoebe Lillie. This is my grandma, Edna Lillie. Everyone calls her Grandma. We’ve some cornbread left from supper if you’re hungry.”

  His stomach grumbled in response. A hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth. “I’ll get some cold milk from the cellar to go with it.”

  “I’m much obliged.” Jacob dropped his belongings near the door and took a seat on one of the benches running beside the simple kitchen table.

  A potbellied stove provided warmth and served to cook the meals. A pump over a metal bucket occupied the center of a wide wood counter. Shelves lined the wall on both sides of a small window. Yellow-checked calico served as curtains. Rag rugs littered the floor, providing cheerful color on the worn planks. A quilting rack with a partial quilt hung suspended from the ceiling. A rocking chair and a few straight backed ones with straw-woven seats, provided places to rest. A ladder led to an overhead loft, and two doors flanked the fireplace. A home holding necessities only, with simple touches of a woman’s attempt toward a comfortable feel.

  “Is the man of the house home?” he asked.

  Phoebe’s back straightened. “He’s hunting.” Pensive lines on the sides of her mouth deepened as she glanced toward the door. “Ought to be back at any time.”

  “Stop being prickly, girl,” Grandma Edna said. “My nose was itching all day. I knew someone would be coming to our door needing sustenance.”

  “Grandma, please. Enough of the superstitions.” Phoebe handed Jacob a plate.

  “It’s fact, missy.” Grandma crossed her arms.

  Jacob bit back a grin. He remembered the warnings about these country people and their superstitions. Which one did Grandma refer too? An itchy nose signified a visitor with a hole in his britches. Well, that fit him to a tee.

  “Thank you.” He crumbled his cornbread into his glass and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. Soggy, but bounty from heaven to his starving body.

  Phoebe nodded and wrapped a shawl tighter around her. It wasn’t until then he noticed the patched cotton nightgown she wore. The fire’s rays outlined her curvy shape beneath the fabric. Heat rushed to Jacob’s face, and his hand paused before he ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I disturbed your rest.”

  “Nonsense. It’s the Christian thing for us to do.” The creak of the wood rocking chair brought his gaze up. Grandma set a folded, faded quilt on the table beside him. “Make yourself at home. In the morning, we’ll point you in the right direction.”

  “Much obliged. God bless.” He kept his attention focused on the food in front of him until the ladies retired to the loft overhead.

  Having finished eating, he stood and set his dishes in the tub of water, then dug his Bible out of his pack. Hunkered down in front of the dying fire, he tried to read his daily quota of Proverbs.

  Who were these people giving him shelter? Wary, yet welcoming. Poor, yet willing to give up what little they had to a stranger. He closed the book and stared into the scarlet embers. He turned off the oil lamp. He wouldn’t waste their precious resources.

  There had to be a way to repay their kindness without ruffling any feathers. Maybe cutting wood. He studied his hands. Work-worn and calloused, yet they hadn’t held an axe in a long time. Nothing much more than a pencil stub. Or a gun. That wasn’t the life for him anymore. He refocused his attention on his new job as a teacher. An occupation more fitting for a follower of Christ.

  People this simple wouldn’t have much in the way of teaching tools. What would he use to train up the children of Pine Ridge? He didn’t even know if the place had a schoolhouse. He hoped it did. A smarter man might have thought to ask before accepting the job.

  He pulled the quilt off the table and wrapped it around his shoulders before settling into one of the chairs. It might be an uncomfortable night, but at least he’d be warm. Jacob fell asleep dreaming of a golden-haired beauty with curves to set a man’s mind racing, and fear haunting her face.

  2

  “Viola.” Phoebe shook her sister and peeled back the Rose of Sharon quilt from the bed. “Milk the cow and be quiet about it. We’ve a guest sleeping downstairs.”

  “Ooh.” Viola’s squeal nearly pierced Phoebe’s eardrum as her sister leaped from the mattress and peered over the railing. “A man. A handsome one, too. Why’s he still sleeping?” Her wide-eyed gaze slid to Phoebe. “Only city slickers sleep this late, I reckon.”

  “As if you weren’t doing the same thing. Put your eyes back in your head and get busy on your chores. Once the children wake, they’ll want that chocolate gravy Grandma promised them. And there’ll be no end to their pestering.” Phoebe pulled her nightgown off over her head and hung it on a hook nailed into the wall. She grabbed her blue-flowered housedress, threw it on, shoved her feet into her scuffed brown shoes, and donned her ratty brown sweater, before climbing down the ladder.

  Viola stared at the sleeping Jacob Wright. “He’s like an angel with the fire casting a halo around his head. He’s wearing pin striped pants and a tie! A city feller thrust into the midst of us common folk. Who is he? What color are his eyes?”

  “Stop it.” Phoebe gritted her teeth. “He’s the new school teacher, and I don’t know what color his eyes are. Now, git.” She shoved her sister toward the door. “The sooner you get the milking done, the sooner you can ogle him.” If Phoebe didn’t keep her busy with chores, that is. A shoulder-load of work was all that would keep Viola from making a fool of herself. That girl would be the death of her, drooling over every man in long pants.

  What color are his eyes? She snorted. Like she’d noticed after he’d come in long past dark last night.

  Phoebe shook her head and went to the counter to mix the flour, sugar, and cocoa for the gravy. She’d hoped to save the precious ingredients for Thanksgiving Day, but once Grandma got her hands on sugar, there was no turning back. It was a wonder the woman had any teeth left.

  Where was Pa? With him gone, how long would their funds last?

  “Can I help with anything?” A deep baritone sounded behind her.

  “Oh.” Phoebe turned, scattering flour across the front of her. She glared at Jacob.

  “I’m sorry I startled you.” One corner of his mouth lifted, sending butterflies through her stomach.

  His eyes were as green and alluring as a spring field. Heat flooded her face and she turned back to preparing breakfast. “My ma would roll over in her grave if I were to allow a guest to work. You sit. I’ll be finished shortly. After you eat, JJ will show you to Dixon’s store.”

  “Will JJ be one of my students?”

  Phoebe nodded. “If he wants. He’s fifteen. There’s three of school age here in the family. But JJ thinks he’s a man.” She glanced at the deer antlers over the fireplace. The missing shotgun made her heart sink. If Pa didn’t show up soon, JJ might well become the man of the house. If Pa didn’t show by mid-day, she’d scour the woods.

  Jacob leaned against the table. “I couldn’t help but notice your limp. Are you hurt?”

  Phoebe set her jaw and turned to face him. She twisted a dishtowel in her hands and fought the urge to put the nosy stranger in his place. “I broke it when I was young. T
he bone didn’t heal properly.”

  “Have you thought about putting a lift in one shoe? Or building up the heel?”

  She stiffened. Obviously, city folk didn’t know when to mind their own business. “We’ve other things to occupy our time.”

  “I could do it for you. I’ve a little skill with wood.” He bent and lifted her left foot in his hands.

  Phoebe jerked free, stumbling against the counter. “How dare you?”

  “It’s only a matter of making one shoe heel thicker.” He reached for her again. “I’d like to return the favor for your hospitality.”

  Grandma shuffled into the room and cackled as she lowered into the rocking chair. “Mister, you ain’t got the sense God gave a goose. Up here, we don’t touch people without asking, we don’t offer to pay for services God expects us to give, and most men back away when Phoebe’s got her dander up.”

  He turned a bright shade of crimson and held up his hands. “I meant no harm.”

  “Apology accepted.” Grandma lowered her round figure into a chair.

  Didn’t Phoebe have a say in whether she accepted his apology or not? She snorted and turned back to her work. Her leg tingled where he’d touched her. Even through her wool stockings. No one other than family had ever laid hands on her. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Did that make her as wanton as she feared Viola would turn out? Or did she have an attraction for the stranger? She couldn’t. Her skin prickled. The sooner the man went about his own way, the better for the Lillie family. None of them had need of fancy city ideas. A block of wood in her shoe, ha!

  “Give him your shoe, child.”

  Phoebe whirled and gaped at her grandma. “Excuse me?”

  “Your shoe.” Grandma flicked her hand as if she were waving off a fly. “While you’ve been lost in your daydreams, we’ve been discussing your predicament. I think this city school teacher might be on to something.” She set the rocker in motion. “Come on. Take it off and stand in the center of the room so he can see you better.”

  Phoebe slipped off her shoes and stood as rigid as a Southern Pine while Jacob squatted next to her. She wanted to run for the protection of the trees. Why did Grandma insist on treating her like a child?

  Using his hands, Jacob measured her from hip to toe. His hands skimmed her body, barely touching, yet every connection felt like a fiery brand. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, willing her heart to stay inside her ribcage where it belonged.

  JJ ambled into the room. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he yawned. He squinted at her and Mr. Wright. His eyes flared open. Hard lines etched along his face. His hand balled into a fist at his side. “What’s that man doing to Phoebe?”

  “Fixing her leg.” Grandma slowed her rocking.

  A light sprang into JJ’s eyes. “No kidding?” He crowded closer, peering at Jacob as he worked.

  One-by-one the other children trudged into the room. They joined JJ staring at her like the freak of nature she was. She fought the tears. God could reach down now and take her home, and she wouldn’t argue a word.

  JJ thrust out his hand. “I’m James Lillie. People call me JJ. You ain’t from around here, huh?”

  Straightening, Jacob took her brother’s hand. “No, but I’m hoping to be for a long time. I’m the new school teacher.”

  JJ pursed his lips and gave a sniff. “I can already read and do figures. Ain’t got no need of further schooling. This farm is all I need to know.”

  “World’s changing.” Jacob carried Phoebe’s shoes to the table. “Education becomes more important every year. A learned man can go far. If you do well, you can leap ahead of your neighbors.”

  JJ nodded. “I’ll think on it.”

  Viola rushed inside, plunked down a bucket of milk on the counter, splashing some over the side, and leaned over Jacob’s shoulder.

  “Got a piece of wood about this size?” Jacob spread apart his fingers. “I’ll attach it to the bottom of her shoe, paint it to match, and Phoebe will be as good as new.”

  Noel crowded close, his brown hair tousled and falling forward into his eyes. “Shore do. I’m a whittler and real good for a man of eight years. I can spare you a piece.” He dashed outside, the door banging shut behind him.

  “If y’all are done discussing me like I’m not here, I’ll finish getting breakfast.” Phoebe frowned. No one paid her any mind. Dismissed like a wayward child. She had half a mind to scorch the gravy.

  She mixed water and milk and stirred it over a low fire. In the swirls of liquid, she envisioned Jacob Wright’s face. There hadn’t been a man as pretty as him on the ridge for as long as she could remember. Did the handsome face hide a man of integrity, or a scoundrel like Eli Coffman? What drove an educated man to the backwoods?

  *

  Rich chocolate over hot, buttered biscuits melted on Jacob’s tongue. A simple luxury he hadn’t enjoyed in months. The chatter of children, a warm fire, and a beautiful girl sitting opposite him. Yep Jacob got a glimpse of life if he had a family of his own. A family like the one he’d failed to keep safe. He didn’t think he could do enough good in the world to make up for his past mistakes.

  He speared another chunk of biscuit. He’d heard tales of the hill Folk eating strange foods. Even possum, if the situation warranted. If this was strange, he was all for it. He glanced around the table at the fresh-washed faces of the Lillie family.

  Children and an old woman. Where were the parents? He’d already caused a rift with Phoebe. An ache blossomed in his chest every time she limped from the table to the stove and back. The lift would improve her ability to get around, if her pride didn’t step in the way.

  With the remaining piece of biscuit, he scraped his plate clean. He savored the last bite before he stood. “Let me fix that shoe, and I’ll be leaving. I need four nails, a saw, sandpaper, and some blacking.”

  “You don’t need much, do you?” Phoebe’s curt tone pricked him like an ice pick. He’d overstepped his boundaries. Again.

  Why was the girl pricklier than a porcupine? All he wanted to do was help her. “I’m sorry if I’m presuming anything. Do you have any of these items?”

  She nodded. “The nails are in a can on the fireplace mantel. Saw’s hanging on the wall in back. Sandpaper –”

  “I got a piece here. The blacking too.” The boy, the one they called Noel, fished a scrap from his overalls.

  “Thank you.” Jacob gathered the supplies, Phoebe’s shoe, and headed outside. He planted himself on the top step. A frigid wind blew down the collar of his shirt.

  The aroma of chocolate and butter wrapped around him. Stocking feet peeked out from under a faded skirt hem. The sight of Phoebe’s shoeless state on the rough boards, her big toe poking through a hole in her socks, spurred him to hurry. Her toes must feel like cubes of ice.

  Gracefully, she lowered herself onto the porch. The penetrating feel of her gaze unnerved him, like she could see right through him. His throat tightened and he mentally pushed aside the way her skin was as soft as a butterfly’s wings beneath his fingers. He chose to concentrate instead on the task at hand and willed his heart rate to slow. A man with his past had no right to spend time thinking about a woman, no matter how lovely she was.

  Within minutes, the entire Lillie clan surrounded him, staring with wide eyes and silent mouths as he worked. Viola pressed close to his elbow and smiled. Jacob scooted toward the porch railing. She moved closer.

  He sighed. The girl’s daddy would have his hands full with this one. She gobbled up every inch he created between them. Jacob was trapped by the porch rail and the hunger in Viola’s eyes. How could he discourage her?

  Jacob positioned the hardwood scrap over the heel of the shoe and hammered in the first nail.

  Viola propped her chin in her hand, and stared at him with black button eyes. “You’re smart ain’t you?”

  “I read a lot.”

  “Did you bring books with you?” Phoebe’s soft question paused his hammering.

  H
e turned. “Do you read?”

  She nodded. “Whatever I can get my hands on. Books are scarce out here, so I make do with old newspapers.”

  “Pine Ridge has a newspaper?”

  “No, but we get back issues from Compton and beyond.”

  “I’ve got a few novels.” The way her face lit up at his words convinced him he’d order more as soon as funds became available.

  Phoebe rose, and with the hint of a smile, backed through the doorway, somehow taking some of the early morning sun with her.

  Viola smoothed the skirt of her faded rose-colored dress. “Books are a waste of time.”

  Jacob grinned. He now had a way of letting Viola know he wasn’t interested. “I can’t imagine spending time with someone who doesn’t read.”

  She shrugged. “I could learn to like it, I reckon. For you.”

  JJ laughed. “Viola only likes men who pay her undying devotion and spout words of love.”

  The girl leaped to her feet and lunged at her brother, hands outstretched. He dashed around the corner of the building with Viola hot on his tail. The other children continued to watch Jacob as if such family spats occurred on a regular basis.

  Thank you, Lord, for that narrow escape.

  Finished, he got to his feet and asked Noel to put away the tools. The boy jumped up, and scurried off. Jacob carried the shoes into the house. Had he measured correctly? Would Phoebe like the improvement? He’d buy some blacking at first opportunity to replace what he’d used.

  “Try these on, please.” He offered them to Phoebe.

  Eyes averted, she took them and sat in the chair beside her grandmother. She slipped her feet into the scuffed shoes and stood.

  Grandma eyed Jacob’s work then twirled her finger in Phoebe’s direction. “Walk around the room.”

  Phoebe strolled around the table. Her eyes widened, and she grinned. “It’s a miracle. I’ve no limp at all.”

  Grandma tossed her hands up. “Praise the Lord! You ain’t no teacher, Mr. Wright, but an angel sent from heaven. When my boy Ben gets home, he’ll want to shake your hand.”