Sooner or Later

by Vickie McDonough

  She grabbed hold of the man’s shoulders to keep from falling farther. Then she secured her hat just before it slipped off. Rebekah quickly realized she needn’t worry about falling. His strong arms held her securely against his solid chest; and his breath, warm on her cheek, still carried the faint hint of roasted rabbit. In spite of her embarrassment and the fact that she’d never been this close to a man before in her whole life, his arms felt entirely too comfortable—too secure.

  Rebekah was so mortified she couldn’t bring herself to look into his face for fear of seeing a satisfied grin. She’d fallen just like he’d said. Only it wasn’t from being weak; it was merely a simple accident that had tripped her up. But she was sure he wouldn’t believe her if she tried to explain.

  When he stepped back and turned toward the campfire, Rebekah noticed the boy and a younger girl staring at them. The man started toward the campfire, and she realized he wasn’t going to set her down. She smacked his rock-hard chest with her open hand. “Put me down,” she ordered. “I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh. If you’re fine, how come I caught you tumbling through the air like a shot goose?”

  Of all the nerve. Insufferable man!

  Oompf! He hastily deposited her on a rotting tree stump. Then he sat down on the gnarled tree trunk that lay on the ground beside her. Thinking about what creatures might be nesting in such an old, decaying stump caused Rebekah to cringe. There could be spiders, maggots, and all kinds of critters, maybe even snakes. That thought had her on her feet in seconds. Ready to investigate what other creatures might be lurking there, she spun around, and the trunk suddenly blurred. It formed and then faded as if she were looking at it through a fog. Instantly she felt the man by her side, his steadying hand warming her shoulder.

  “Sit down before you fall down.”

  Fine. I’ll sit down, but only so I don’t end up in your arms again She pointed to the trunk, and he guided her, offering his silent support until she sat down. With her elbows on her knees, Rebekah rested her throbbing head in her hands.

  After a few moments of someone shuffling around, she looked up to see the man standing in front of her with a bowl of roasted rabbit and a biscuit. Her stomach cried, Hurry! and she accepted the bowl.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She tore into the meat, ignoring the manners her mother had drilled into her. When the meat was gone, she licked the remaining juice off the bones. Besides, boys didn’t have to eat in a ladylike manner; and if she was going to pass herself off as one, she’d have to remember that. The hard biscuit crunched as she chewed it, but she didn’t care. It tasted wonderful.

  “Uncle Mason don’t let me wear my hat when I eat,” the boy commented, staring at her hat.

  She gulped. Seemed there were other things a boy should do. Like be a gentleman, maybe. She just hoped the man wouldn’t come yank her hat from her head. She wasn’t ready to share her secret.

  “Jimmy! That’s no way to talk to a guest,” the man scolded.

  Rebekah sighed with relief and looked at him. Mason. It was a nice name for such an overbearing man. She glanced at Jimmy. His head hung down, and he toed circles in the dirt.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled without looking up.

  So Mason was Jimmy’s uncle. Rebekah glanced at the little girl—a darling angel staring at her with wide, dark blue eyes. She held up a ragged cloth doll, whose braided yellow hair hung precariously by several loose threads. “This is Molly,” she said.

  Rebekah considered how a boy might answer. They’d probably give a disinterested smile, shrug, and say something like, “That’s nice”; but she was interested, and she wanted to talk to the child. She’d never had the chance to be around little girls much. “Molly’s very pretty. What’s your name?”

  “Katie. I’m fwee.”

  Rebekah smiled. “You’re three? My, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

  Smiling, Katie nodded, and charming dimples dented her chubby cheeks. Rebekah studied the little girl. Her worn dress had seen better days. Her face was covered in what looked like a layer of dirt mixed most likely with grease from the rabbit she’d just eaten. Was she Mason’s niece—or maybe his daughter? And why wasn’t there a woman around? Jimmy’s mom or Mason’s wife—if he had one. She glanced around once more, waiting for a woman to appear, but she somehow knew there wasn’t one coming.

  Savoring the salty dryness of the last of her biscuit, she studied Mason. He squatted next to the fire, stirring the ashes with a stick. The campfire snapped and popped as if complaining about the disturbance. Several days’ growth of dark whiskers shadowed Mason’s face. Rebekah wondered what he looked like without a beard. His stature was all man—tall, broad-shouldered, strong. She wondered if he carried Indian or Mexican blood, though his tan complexion didn’t carry the reddish tint she figured a man of that heritage would. Those black eyes, probing like a lantern at midnight, had nearly penetrated her fragile disguise. The biscuit churned in her stomach. Jimmy’s uncle certainly was an appealing man—too much so for her own good.

  Would she be safe if she confessed she was a woman? She’d heard stories about what happened to women who traveled alone. That’s why she’d disguised herself in her brother’s clothes. She hoped to pass for a teenage boy, hoped to waylay unwanted attention. What would Mason do if he knew the truth? Would he be sympathetic?

  Rebekah looked up. Her gaze locked with Mason’s. Her heart froze. Flickering shadows from the campfire danced across his face. Flames popped, and a hundred tiny embers sprinkled the air like flittering fireflies on the evening hillside. From under half-lowered lids, he stared at her. His glare burned through her. Disconcerted, she crossed her arms and pointedly looked away.

  What have I done to upset him?

  three

  Was he wrong to be cautious? Maybe he should just give the girl some food and water and send her on her way. Mason stood and shoved his hands into his back pockets as he continued to stare into the flickering flames. No. He couldn’t do that, even if she wasn’t being completely honest with him. He exhaled a heavy breath. Sometimes he hated being chivalrous and caring, but it was his nature.

  Mason wondered how much time would pass before the girl trusted him enough to reveal her identity. He always tried hard to give people the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t stomach a liar or deceiver. A shiver charged up his spine as his thoughts flashed back to his youth, when his father had beaten him whenever he told a lie. Sometime when he was about nine years old, Mason had figured out honesty was a lot less painful than dishonesty. As a boy, he’d entertained ideas of running away from home every time his domineering father took him to the woodshed. Could her father have beaten her? He thought back to her soft cries in the wagon. Was that why she was on the road alone?

  He walked away from the heat of the fire. The toe of his boot snagged on a rock, and Mason stumbled, nearly losing his balance. Irritated, he picked up the offending stone with a growl and threw it into the surrounding darkness. He peeked back to see if the woman was watching, but thankfully she was staring into the fire. She looked so scruffy and pitiful.

  All his life he’d been rescuing animals and standing up for the smaller kids who were picked on by bullies. Mason wanted to help the woman, but how could he if she wasn’t honest with him? He turned back toward the fire.

  “What’s your name?” Katie asked her.

  Something akin to panic dashed across the woman’s face. “Re … uh … RJ.”

  “That’s a funny name.” Katie giggled. “How olds are you?”

  Mason opened his mouth to scold Katie for her precocious questions, but he decided he’d rather hear RJ’s response.

  The woman’s lips tilted in a melancholy smile. “A lot older than you, sweetie.”

  Sweetie At least she was kind to the kids. He’d give her that much. But could RJ be her real initials—or was that just another lie? Never in all his life had he heard of a woman who went only by initia
ls. Mason shook his head.

  The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, signaling the lateness of the hour. He watched another cloud meander across the sky to cover the moon, and he sighed. Every night Katie gave him trouble at bedtime. He hoped tonight would be different. “Jimmy, Katie, time for y’all to turn in.”

  “What am I gonna sleep on?” Jimmy asked.

  “Ain’t you got a bed?” Mason replied.

  “Katie wet on my quilt, remember?”

  Mason lifted his hat from his head and ran his hands through his hair. He remembered. He hoped they’d find water soon so they could wash Jimmy’s quilt and restock their water barrels. Given the distance they’d traveled without finding fresh water, he’d even considered praying. But his praying days ended when God let Annie and their unborn child die. Why hadn’t God prevented it? He could have but He hadn’t. As far as Mason was concerned, he had no place in his life for a God who killed women and children.

  He looked at Jimmy. “Sorry, pardner, you’re gonna have to sleep on your quilt until we can get it washed.”

  “Oh, great!” Jimmy threw Katie a dirty look and stomped off toward the wagon.

  Mason plucked a stem of grass and twirled it between his fingers. He studied Jimmy’s back as the boy moved away. Normally all three of them slept together in the wagon, but it wouldn’t be proper to make RJ sleep outside, especially in her weakened condition. Mason flicked the grass stem out into the darkening shadows. The girl hadn’t been there for a whole day, and she was already forcing changes.

  “Jimmy,” Mason called. The boy stopped and swirled around. “Throw your quilt under the wagon. We’ll sleep out tonight.”

  The lad’s countenance instantly changed. “Woo-hoo!” he yelled. Jimmy punched the air with his fist and burst into a jog toward the wagon. Mason couldn’t help smiling. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times Jimmy had begged to sleep outside, but he’d always refused the boy since Katie was afraid to sleep alone.

  RJ smiled, picked up the canteen, then poured some water into a tin cup. She snapped the cork into the canteen and sipped the water as she stared into the campfire. Mason wanted to talk with her and find out where she’d come from, but first he had to deal with Katie, whose eyes already swam with unshed tears.

  “I don’t wanna thleep in the wagon by myself. I–I’m scared.” The firelight brightened the tears streaming down Katie’s cheeks. She hugged Molly tight against her chest.

  Mason strode over and knelt beside her. Stroking her silky hair, he pulled her to his chest. “Shhh, sugar. You won’t be alone. RJ will be sleeping with you.”

  Peering past Katie, Mason noticed RJ’s head jerk up. He read the probing question in her eyes. He wanted to answer her. Yes, I know you’ve been lying. Yes, I know you’re a woman But he refrained.

  Katie pushed away and sat up, rubbing her sleeve across her nose. “Weally?”

  “Really.” Mason smiled at her excitement. “And I’ll tell you what. How about if you go to sleep under the wagon with Jimmy, and later on I’ll put you inside?”

  Katie squealed and wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck. He loved her little-girl hugs and wet, slobbery kisses.

  “Come on, sugar,” he said, lifting her into the air. “Let’s wash up and I’ll tuck you in.”

  Rebekah watched Mason carry Katie to the wagon. When he tossed her up and caught her, the girl’s childish squeals rent the night air. He set Katie down and pulled out a canteen from the back of the wagon, then moistened the edge of his shirt and wiped Katie’s face. He replaced the canteen, pulled Katie’s dress off, and reached in the back of the wagon, retrieving a small ivory-colored nightgown. Mason slipped it over Katie’s head, and she scooted under the wagon. Mason knelt beside her. Rebekah heard the murmur of the children’s voices and surmised they must be praying.

  Looking toward the night sky, Rebekah marveled again at God’s handiwork. Back home, the forest of trees blocked out most of the stars, but here the sky sparkled with hundreds of twinkling diamonds. The soothing glow of the moon rising over the eastern sky, to say nothing of her full stomach, lulled her into a contented state. For the first time in a week, she wasn’t in a frantic race away from home, worried about finding something to eat, or fearful for her safety.

  She glanced at Mason. Even though the man barely spoke to her and continually glared at her, she felt safe with him. Just as quickly as the thought came, it was replaced. Irritation seeped in as Rebekah wondered how Mason could allow a total stranger to sleep in the wagon with Katie, especially if he thought she was a boy. It didn’t make any sense. Did he discern she wasn’t a threat? But how could he know for sure? And why would he take a chance?

  The thought angered her so that she couldn’t sit still. She bounced to her feet, instantly sorry for her sudden movement. Reaching down, she steadied herself on the tree stump.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Mason’s voice snapped behind her.

  The nearness of his voice startled her. Rebekah gasped and whirled around. She pressed her palm to her chest, hoping to steady her racing heart, and flung out her other arm for balance. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.

  How could a man so big walk so quietly?

  “I—I need to tend to my horse and get my blanket.” Too exhausted to look into his glaring eyes again, Rebekah stared at a blue button on Mason’s plaid shirt. The top edge of his chest pocket flopped over in a frayed triangle where the corner had come unstitched. There was no doubt this motley trio could use a woman’s touch. Too bad she would be leaving for Denver after everyone fell asleep.

  The pungent scent of smoke and dust permeated Mason’s shirt. Rather than finding the odor repulsive, Rebekah had to fight off the desire to lean against his solid torso. For the first time in her life, she found herself attracted to a man.

  Why did it have to be this one?

  “I already took care of that pitiful beast.”

  Rebekah sucked in a breath and shoved Mason in the chest. “Prince isn’t pitiful. He saved my life. I’d have never made it this far without him.”

  Mason spewed out a noise that sounded half-laugh and half-snort. “How old is that horse, anyway? Twenty-five years?”

  Rebekah narrowed her eyes at Mason’s offensive comment. She nibbled at a piece of dried skin on her sun-scorched lips. There was no way she would tell this insufferable man that her horse was probably closer to thirty. In fact, Prince was probably older than Mason. As long as Rebekah could remember, her mother had owned Prince.

  “I’m going to turn in,” she said, purposefully ignoring his question. She tilted her nose toward the stars.

  “I think we need to talk.” The tone of Mason’s voice left no room for objection.

  Feeling daring for a change, Rebekah shook her head. “I need to get a good night’s sleep so I can be on my way tomorrow.”

  Mason’s eyes blazed, and he looked at her as if she were crazy. He opened his mouth to say something but slammed it shut instead. A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. Rebekah felt compelled to continue. “I’ve taken up your time and eaten your food. You’ve been very kind, and I truly appreciate your hospitality, but I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

  Mason stalked away then quickly stopped. He pivoted and marched back toward her like a cougar chasing its prey. Rebekah stepped back, the chipped bark of the fallen tree trunk biting into her calves. He leaned into her face. The flickering firelight behind her brought out sparkling flecks of gold in his ebony eyes. His breath warmed her nose, and Rebekah’s heart tightened at his intimidating closeness. Mason’s steady gaze impaled her. She was suddenly anxious to escape his disturbing presence.

  “Kid,” he said with cool authority, “you’re not goin’ anywhere tomorrow.”

  Rebekah’s tears slowed to a mere dribble. Her throat and nose felt thick from her lengthy cry. Though she lay in the back of the wagon next to Katie, she’d never felt so alone. Even her prayers seemed to go no further than the top of
the wagon’s canvas canopy.

  Her emotions bounced from rage to fear and loneliness then back to rage. How could she have been attracted to that beast? How could Mason think he could keep her from leaving? So what if her horse was old? Prince had gotten her this far, and he would get her all the way to Denver. She hadn’t run away from Pa simply to fall prey to another tyrant. No. She had to leave tonight.

  All her life, Rebekah’s mother had told her stories about her hometown. The snowcapped mountains she spoke of had beckoned Rebekah as a child, and when she fled from Pa, it seemed only natural to head for Denver.

  Denver was far enough away that Giles Wilbur or her pa wouldn’t find her—she hoped. Rebekah still thought of Curtis Bailey as her pa, even though she now knew the truth. The man had raised her and she carried his name, after all. But knowing the truth answered a lot of her questions. How many times had Rebekah asked her mother why she had blue eyes when her pa, ma, and brother all had brown eyes? Now she knew why Curtis—that’s what she’d call him from now on—treated Davy so much better than he’d ever treated her. Davy was his true son, and she was merely the unwanted stepchild.

  Tears blurred her vision of the moon again. Oh, Lord, why did You let Ma and Davy die? Doc said it was influenza. If only Curtis had been home instead of out hunting. Rebekah wouldn’t leave her sick mother and brother to go for the doctor. What if she had? Would they still be alive?

  Once again, the Bible verse from Ecclesiastes flittered through her mind. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die.” Was this God’s way of telling her it was time for Ma and Davy to die? But why? Davy had filled her life with such joy. He’d only been a few years older than Jimmy when he died. Rebekah wanted so much to be angry with God, but she couldn’t. She didn’t understand, but still, she wouldn’t blame God. Things happened. Life was hard. Right now God was the only constant in her life, her only anchor in a terrifying storm.