The One Who Waits for Me

by Lori Copeland

  Smiling regret to her hosts, she stood and moved to the lodge opening, shaking the creases from her pants.

  “What do you want?” Drawn from fanciful thoughts, she couldn’t bring herself to speak with complete civility to him.

  “Good to see you too.”

  She tempered her response. “It’s the middle of the night. Was there something you needed?” She started back toward her sleeping lodge.

  He turned to walk with her. “No. I saw you walking through the village, and thought I should make sure you didn’t need something. What were you doing in the lodge?”

  “I thought I might help.”

  He cast a questioning eye in her direction.

  “I thought I could help care for Trella’s infant while she’s resting. The poor thing is exhausted.”

  “Is she ever going to name the child?”

  “I’m sure she will—eventually.” Nothing had been mentioned about a name, and events had happened so quickly that naming the baby had been the last thing on the escaping women’s minds. “It’s been a difficult few days.”

  “It will be even more difficult when you reach a community.”

  She let the observation pass. She knew that what lay ahead would not be easy. The two strolled slowly through the camp, keeping their voices low.

  “I’m not afraid,” she finally said. She didn’t want him thinking she was one of those fainthearted ninnies who flinched at the sight of hardship.

  “You wouldn’t be here if I thought you were in danger.” He nodded. “The real danger is still out there looking for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Then I don’t have to worry about you slipping off to some nunnery when my back is turned?”

  “No.” Though for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why he would want the aggravation of caring for a band of ragtag runaways.

  “Good, because we’re going to be leaving shortly.”

  Her heart shot to her throat. Leaving? They couldn’t leave them alone among savages.

  “The men and I have been talking. It looks like the baby will have to remain here for a few weeks, and that’s a real delay. Also, Joanie needs the rest. I think it’s best that Gray Eagle, Preach, and I ride on. But before we go, I’ll arrange for one of the men in the camp to escort you, Joanie, and Trella to the closest settlement as soon as the baby is able to tolerate cow’s milk.”

  “You’re leaving us?” She stopped dead in her tracks. “Why can’t Joanie and I come along? We won’t—”

  The captain held up a hand, halting her words. “Beth, Joanie is in worse shape than the baby. Surely you can hear that when she breathes.”

  Beth couldn’t deny the truth of what he said, yet the thought of being left behind while the men moved on frightened her. “But we can go to a town, get medical help—”

  There was that hand again. “She needs rest. You won’t leave her, and Trella’s baby won’t survive just now without a wet nurse.” Even in the dim light the compassion she saw in his eyes nearly undid her. Beth looked away. Of course she wouldn’t leave her sister. Joanie was all she had left in this world.

  She turned to meet his gaze again. How could he be certain that these Indians wouldn’t turn on them once he rode away and hold them captive—or worse?

  “You can’t leave.”

  “I am leaving,” he insisted, leveling a look at her. “But maybe if you told me the true nature of your flight from your home, I might be able to set your fears to rest.”

  “I…I’ve told you. We’re running away from Uncle Walt.”

  “I understand that. What I don’t understand is why the desperate plight? Where are your folk?”

  “Dead.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Only me and Joanie. Please, Captain—”

  “I’ve asked you to call me Pierce.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Meeting her stubborn gaze, he shook his head. “You’re a hard one to figure out.”

  “I wouldn’t try, Captain. But…you can’t leave us here. You just can’t.”

  “Is it that you don’t like men in general or you just don’t like me in particular?”

  She stiffened, waiting for a blow. Though he was smiling at her, Uncle Walt often smiled before he was about to strike. So did Bear.

  “Well?”

  “I…don’t have anything against you personally. In general, you’re all right. I don’t trust other men.”

  His eyes assessed her. “Care to say why not?”

  “No, sir.” She kept her eyes straight ahead and her response respectful.

  “You never told me your last name.”

  She didn’t dare reveal that. Uncle Walt was well known around these parts, and there was no telling what kind of connections the captain might have to men her uncle knew. For some reason, beets flashed through her mind and she seized one upon that.

  “Beet…smoth.” She steeled herself for his response. Joanie said lies were the devil’s work, but because Beth didn’t know the devil or the Lord, she guessed it didn’t matter.

  “Beth Beetsmoth.” He tasted it on his tongue. “That’s your name?”

  “Yes, sir.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

  “Beth and Joanie Beetsmoth.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shook his head and they walked on. “Why don’t I just call you Pickled Beets?”

  He was mocking her now, but she couldn’t let him shake her. Or leave. “Fine. Anything that pleases you.”

  He paused. “All right. What other concerns do you have about us riding ahead?”

  “Well…” Could she voice her true feelings? She felt somewhat safe in his presence. And yet…she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him all that had brought her and Joanie to this point, so she opted for a diversion. “Please just wait a few days. By then the baby will be stronger and we can find a way to feed her cow’s milk.”

  “You’re really wanting me to stay?”

  “I…well, I…” Her brow furrowed. “It’s just that I don’t know if we can trust these people.”

  “And if I stay, what am I supposed to do?” His tone altered, almost intimate now, and she resented the implication.

  “The wait shouldn’t be long. Trella’s baby will be thriving soon, and then we can all move on together.”

  “What if your optimistic outlook doesn’t pan out and we’re delayed here for weeks? You have to understand my position, Miss Beetsmoth.”

  The name rankled and she gritted her teeth. If she was going to cooperate with the man, she’d have to level with him. Sighing, she said, “My name is Beth Jornigan.”

  “Jornigan. That has a nicer ring than Beetsmoth.”

  A smile crept to the corners of her mouth. “Thank you, Pierce.” His given name came out before she thought about it, and she nearly choked when she realized she’d said it.

  “Pierce, is it? My, my. I think I like this Beth Jornigan better that the Beetsmoth woman. She was a might testy.” They paused before the large ceremonial lodge, and his tone grew serious. “Tell me the truth, Beth. What are you really hiding from?”

  She considered him, knowing she had to come clean or there was no way he would stay. At the very least, she had to make him better understand why she wanted to run. Some log benches were next to the path. She gestured to one and they sat down.

  “My uncle is a terrible man. You surely saw that. He and my cousin are ruthless.” She took a deep breath as she prepared herself for what she would tell him next. “Walt often made Joanie work long hours in the cotton fields, even when she was sick. When Pa and Ma came down with the fever, he took no pity on them. Ma died, and Pa followed soon afterward.” She swallowed. Now the half-truth got tricky. Exactly how much did she tell this man? Could she trust him with even a part of the secret? His next question opened the door.

  “Why were the brothers at odds?”

  At last the moment she’d been dreading. “I’ll tell you the t
ruth,” she ventured, hoping the morsel she’d decided to offer up would be enough to satisfy his curiosity. “I didn’t know anything about the Trail of Tears—when President Jackson moved the five tribes to Oklahoma. I don’t have the learning that Joanie has, but I hear things and I remember them. My great-grandmother married a Chickasaw warrior. She fell in love with this man and had two children by him. As the head of the family, my great-grandfather was forced to the reservation; my great-grandma chose to go with him, keeping her family together.

  “Years ago we had a wealthy white cousin who owned the plantation, and, because he had no children, upon his death he bequeathed it to Pa’s father. Before my grandfather died, he gave the deed to Pa for safekeeping. Because he was the second son and his older brother was a bully, he hid that deed, and Walt knew that, but Pa was stubborn and refused to tell Walt where he put it. Because of Pa’s mulishness, my family lived at Walt’s mercy—picking his cotton and tending his fields in exchange for very low wages and meager shelter. Pa was a good man, Pierce, I won’t deny that, but he couldn’t stand up to his brother. And he refused to take us away, which would have spared us the misery we endured all those long years.” She sighed as she finished her tale. And while all of that was true, she had deliberately left out one important detail. Pa had told her the night before he passed where the deed was hidden. He said that if he didn’t make it till morning that Beth was to somehow get the deed and take Joanie away from there, someplace where Joanie could get the medical treatment she so desperately needed.

  Pierce’s brow furrowed. “Your pa could have used the deed to take care of your sister?”

  “He could have; but like I said, he wasn’t willing or able to stand up to his older brother.” Tears swelled to her eyes. “Don’t blame Pa. Uncle Walt overwhelmed all of us. He threatened constantly to give Joanie or me to one of his cruel overseers, but Pa told him that if Walt ever let a man have his way with us that he’d never find out where the deed was hidden, so I guess, in his own way, Pa did stand up to him.”

  “Did someone ask you to set fire to the shanty?”

  She bit her lower lip. She trusted him only to a point. A watchful point.

  Memories of the night Walt appeared and searched the shanty with Pa and Ma at gunpoint would never leave her. And his search had been useless. Pa would never have hidden the deed anywhere Walt might have found it.

  “No. It was my idea to set the shanty on fire—but only the shanty. I wanted to hurt Uncle Walt, and burning one of his buildings would make him angry. I also thought he and Bear would be so busy putting the fire out that Joanie and I would have time to escape them for good. I never meant for the cotton to burn, but a wind came up—”

  “I recall.”

  The blazing inferno could have burnt down the whole plantation for all she knew, and she wouldn’t be sorry. Of course, that would make Walt and Bear even more furious.

  “That’s quite a tale you have there, Beth.”

  She felt his assessing eyes on her. He wasn’t a fool. She’d told the absolute truth—almost. She hoped it was enough to convince him that he was obligated to keep them from Walt and Bear’s greedy hands.

  “If you leave, Uncle Walt and Bear will find this village and take us again. And he’ll force me to marry Bear.”

  “Marry your cousin?” Pierce shook his head. “They won’t find the village, and even if they do you will be safe here. The chief won’t let anything happen to you or the others.”

  “I’d still rest easier if you’d agree to stay for at least a little longer.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a terrible thing to ask. How many times over the past few days had she heard the men talking about home, fresh-baked bread, and warm apple pie? Asking him to stay was selfish, but the thought of not having him around scared her witless. She’d grown used to that cocky grin.

  The same grin that broke across his features now. “Miss Beth, I do believe you’d miss me.”

  Miss him! Personally? That notion was ridiculous. She stood, and for a moment she was not sure how to respond. She’d miss his protection and nothing more. Then tensing, she said, “Go or stay. It doesn’t matter to me, but Joanie’s welfare does. She needs to see a real doctor, and if you make us stay here that can’t happen. You’ll have her death on your hands, Captain Montgomery, not me. I’ve tried my best to get her help, but now you’re standing in the way. Go on, leave. Ride away. I just hope you can sleep at night.” She turned and stalked on, shooting a scathing look over her shoulder.

  “Gray Eagle’s knowledge of herbs is good,” he said, easily catching up to her and walking beside her again. “I’m sure the camp medicine man will help her.”

  “Poof!” She couldn’t rightly deny that the lobelia provided temporary relief, but Joanie needed more.

  “Oh, my. The lady is talking like a saloon brawler.”

  “You…you mind your own business!”

  “I’m trying to, but you keep interfering.”

  She’d never met a man who could argue in a calm tone.

  They approached a cook fire, where fragrant aromas from supper still lingered in the air, and he relented—something a man was also not noted for. “I’ll talk to Preach and Gray Eagle and get their opinion. If they’re willing to stay, I’ll keep you happy.”

  She whirled. “Keep me happy?”

  He didn’t blink. “Isn’t that what you’re asking?”

  She turned and walked to the fire.

  “Either way, Beth, I have to warn you. My friends are good men, but we’re all itching to get home. I can’t promise more than they are willing to give.”

  Beth paused, holding her hands to the comforting warmth of the low-burning coals. She couldn’t quite bring herself to end her conversation with Pierce, though she didn’t want to examine why. She said, “You seem pretty familiar with all of this. Do you live in these parts?”

  “Born and raised about fifty miles from here.” He smiled. “Bought me a piece of land close by, and once I check on my folks I plan to live there and make it my home.”

  The thought of this soldier settling down to farm a piece of property surprised her. For once they had something in common. “I bought us a parcel too,” she said. “As soon as Joanie is able, we’ll be living on our new place.”

  The thought brought tears to her eyes. Their place. They would never be beholden to Walt again.

  Pierce paused to consider her. She felt awkward, crying under his gaze. She swiped at her tears. “Do you have brothers and sisters?” she said.

  “A brother, Jeff.”

  “Then you know the love I feel for my sister.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I know that love, and I’m willing to do all I can do to help you get to safety, but I’m mighty anxious to claim my property. I’m tired of trouble. And fighting. I want to get home, sit on my land, drink sweet tea, and let the world go by.”

  “What’s sweet tea?”

  “Tea—with sugar.”

  “Oh. Walt never let us have sugar. And we never had tea.”

  “You didn’t have sugar on your table?”

  “No.”

  Shaking his head, he paused and reached for the coffeepot. “Can’t imagine a world without sugar.”

  “I can’t imagine one with it.”

  Straightening, he met her gaze again, sympathy in his eyes. Beth looked away.

  “I’ll talk to the men,” he said kindly. “Chances are they’ll see the wisdom of your request.”

  Wisdom. No one had ever accused her of being wise, least of all a man.

  Twenty

  The light of the moon still claimed the sky when Pierce roused the other men from their sleeping bags. “Sorry to wake you, but we need to talk.”

  Instantly alert, Preach and Gray Eagle rolled from their beds and walked with Pierce downstream, away from the quiet village and listening ears.

  “What’s going on?” Preach asked.

  “We have a problem, gentlemen.” Briefly, Pierce shared Beth’s
request for the men to stay. “I know we have an agreement to ride home, but there is no denying all three women have a need for protection. And it seems we’re the logical choices.”

  Preach squatted and tossed a pebble into the stream.

  Gray Eagle said quietly, “What is the problem, exactly?”

  “Yet another delay,” Pierce said simply. “One that could be lengthy. How far do we take our protection role?”

  The men’s eyes focused on him.

  “We could saddle up, ride out, and leave the women to fend for themselves. We don’t owe them anything but respect, and I think we’ve fulfilled that duty.”

  “Or?” Gray Eagle asked.

  “Or we stay with Trella and the Jornigan sisters as long as it takes to make sure the uncle and cousin have given up their search and gone home.”

  The other two were silent.

  Pierce sighed. Shaking his head, he said, “Preach, at first light you can saddle up and leave if you want. You could be home in a couple of days. Gray Eagle and I will stay back and help the women with this matter.” His gaze centered on Gray Eagle. He’d seen the way the scout looked at Joanie—but then again, Preach couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Trella and the baby. If his guess was right, all three would willingly sacrifice a few more days—even weeks. Who knew when this situation would end?

  Preach stood slowly and said thoughtfully, “It could get ugly. How do you intend to stop this chase? I thought you were through with violence.”

  “I was, but circumstances changed my mind. That and the longer route.” He gave them both a pointed look. “If we’d never rode this way we would be home by now. Me, sitting on my land. Eating pie.”

  “Drinking sweet tea,” Gray Eagle mocked.

  “Drinking sweet tea,” he said ruefully. “Preach?”

  “Captain?”

  “Does God have a sense of humor?”

  “Yes, sir.” The black man flashed a white smile. “Sometimes folks don’t laugh, but I shore enough think He’s got one.”