*
John knew from Ruth’s stance she’d bolt at any moment. He grasped her hand again, determined not to press the issue further. He’d never forget the way she’d felt in his arms as they danced, or the look of pure bliss on her face. He tried to hold tight to God’s promise that she only needed time. “Okay. Let’s head back to the party. I’ll get us both a something to drink.”
She nodded once, real slow, then lowered her gaze. They walked back in silence, while John’s mind whirled. She’d enjoyed his kiss. She liked his company. So, why couldn’t she relent and accept the future he wanted to give her?
They passed Sarah and Daniel in an embrace behind a shrub. Ruth didn’t seem to see, and John angled her away from the pair. No sense in spoiling her night more than he already had. He needed to learn to lay low and let Ruth make the advances. His fear, though, was that he’d wait until the day he died before she made a move. He led her to the beverage table and grabbed two amber-colored bottles. Using his shirt tail, he opened one and handed it to Ruth.
“Thank you.” She tilted her head back and guzzled from the bottle. John couldn’t take his eyes off her slender throat, or the strands of hair that came loose from her customary bun, and caught the moon’s light. He wanted a dozen little girls who looked just like her.
A gun shot rang out, and Ruth shoved her hand into her pocket. Her hand came up empty. The bottle shattered at her feet.
“It’s just the boys cutting up. Looks like the bride and groom are heading to Hank’s place.” John laid his arm across Ruth’s shoulders. She trembled beneath him. “Are you okay? Nobody’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”
“Then I’d best start to clean up this mess.” She slipped free and almost ran to the food table.
John sighed. While he admired her work ethic, he’d like her to slow down for one night. He moved and started helping a couple other men stack the dance floor boards in a pile against the church. They’d be used for the school house they’d build a few feet away.
Once they cleared the ground, he spotted Ruth with her sisters. Luke trotted to his side. “We need more weddings around here. What a fun night. Now that the Stallings’ aren’t the only single women around, a man can dance all night.”
“I thought you had your eye set on Deborah?” John turned toward home and followed Ruth and her sisters by a few yards.
“Nah. She’s fun and all, but too young for me. I’m not interested in a girl with stars in her eyes and the hidden desire to get hitched.”
“I thought she wanted to teach.”
“She does, but the urge to marry is there, all the same. She’s picky, is all.” Luke scratched his chin. “I’m thinking about shaving off this face hair. Too blasted hot. And it reminds me too much of the war.”
John laughed. “It’s practically the only way people can tell us apart.”
“Remember the fun we used to have with that Mister Higgins?”
“Yep. Doubt we could’ve got away with it with Deborah though. She acts meek, but she’s as tough as Ruth.” He averted his gaze from the way Ruth’s skirt swayed from side-to-side as she walked. He’d step up the courting if he had a clue how to get through her tough resolution to remain single.
He’d have to rely on God to break through to her heart. Once the crack started, he’d rush in and grab her before she knew what hit her. And that moment would happen soon.
Chapter 26
Ruth glanced out the window. Where was Tilly? She usually arrived early rather than late. The hairs on Ruth’s arms stood at attention and her stomach square-danced until she wanted to scream. The foreboding feeling from the day before hung in the air like a thundercloud. Any moment, Ruth expected lightening to strike. She let the curtains drop and turned to the corned beef she planned to serve with the morning’s eggs.
“What’s got you all tied in knots?” Deborah grabbed an apron from the nearest hook.
“I’m worried about Tilly. She’s always here by now.”
“She’ll come. Maybe the baby’s giving her a hard time.” Deborah lit the stove. “You’re always looking for trouble since Ma and Pa died. Worrying won’t bring them back.”
“Don’t you miss them, Deborah?”
“So much it’s like an open wound that won’t heal.” She blew on the spark until flames leaped among the embers, then closed the stove door. “But life goes on. Ma and Pa wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“That’s how I feel,” Sarah said as she joined them. “Life is short. That’s why I plan on cramming as much living into the years allotted me as I can.”
Ruth cracked eggs into a bowl. Tilly burst through the door clutching her son, her hair and clothes disheveled. The bowl crashed to the floor.
“Miss Ruth, I need the sheriff, right now.” Tilly sagged against the wall. “Men came and burned down our homes. They took Moses with them, and headed south down the river.”
“What men?”
“I ain’t never seen them before.”
Ruth charged out the door. She’d spotted John heading toward his home-site early that morning. She stopped in the middle of the yard. Running would take too long. She raced back in the house and grabbed her gun.
“What are you doing?” Deborah grabbed her arm. “You can’t do this again!”
“I’m not going after them alone this time.” No one needed to tell her that the bushwhackers had found her. “Look after Tilly.” Ruth shook her off, rushed outside and fired off a shot. As quick as she could load, she let off another one, then a third. That would bring every man within hearing distance right to her doorstep.
Sure enough, within minutes, Luke and a crowd of men raced up the street and John came from the opposite direction. Ruth lowered the rifle.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tilly’s in the house. Said a group of men attacked them and took Moses.” Ruth forced the words through the mountain in her throat. There’s only one reason a gang of outlaws would take a black man with them alive. Ruth’s heart dropped to her stomach. Her hands trembled as she clutched the gun.
“Let’s go. Anyone willing to help, get your horses and your guns then meet me in front of the jail.” John dashed to the paddock, Luke close behind.
Ruth rushed inside to get ammunition and the house’s medical kit, before meeting John in front of the house. She blocked his escape, knowing what his answer to her going would be. She squared her shoulders and waited for him to argue.
They locked gazes for several seconds before he shook his head, tugged the brim of his hat lower, and offered his hand. “You’ll ride with me. And you will follow my orders to the letter, understand?”
She grinned and allowed him to swing her onto the saddle behind him.
John gave the command for Buster to move and they galloped down the road.
Six men, Luke included, waited in front of the newly constructed jail. Almost twice that number answered her gunshots for help. “Where are the others?”
“This is it,” Luke said. “Some of the men aren’t willing to ride hell-bent-for-leather for a black man. I did get a couple to agree to check out the damage in the river bottom. Hank took your grandma down to help any injured.”
“Talking won’t catch these guys and get Moses back. Let’s go.” John led the mad dash down the trail.
Ruth’s body ached from bouncing on the back of the horse. She wrapped her arms around John’s waist and held tighter. She inhaled sweat and the scent of the dirt he’d worked in digging the ground for his foundation. Perfume to her senses. She closed her eyes and laid her head against his back.
The sun hovered high in the sky by the time John reined in Buster. “God, have mercy.”
Ruth peered around him. Her blood ran cold.
Moses hung from an oak tree. His body swung back-and-forth as in slow motion. The balls of his feet cut grooves in the clay beneath him. Please, God, not her dear friend. Without waiting for John’s help, she slid from the horse and dashed forward. She shove
d her shoulders under Moses. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Cut him down! Please, God.” Tears burned down her cheeks. She struggled to stand upright under the big man’s weight.
“Let me have him, Ruth.”
“No, please; just cut him down.” She couldn’t stand to see him this way. What would she tell Tilly?
“Ruth, he’s too heavy for you.” John tried to pull her away.
Ruth held tighter to Moses’s legs. “I want to. I need to help him.”
John pulled a knife from his saddle bag and sawed through the rope. The weight of Moses’s body drove Ruth to the ground, and expelled a rush of breath from them both. With the care she’d give to a baby, Ruth laid him flat and placed her ear against his chest. How could it be? Beneath her cheek, she heard the gentle beat of a heart and felt the expansion of his chest. A true miracle. The first she’d experienced in a long time.
“He’s alive, John!” She choked back her sobs. Tears blurred the form of the man in front of her, as she untied the rope from around his neck. Thankfully, Moses’s height and a too long length of rope kept his neck from breaking. Instead, he’d managed a feeble foothold on the red Arkansas clay. “Make a travois.”
Moses’s hand shot up and grasped hers. He tried to form words past his swollen throat. “Don’t talk, Moses. We’ll take care of you. Tilly and the baby are fine. They’re waiting for you.”
He sighed and relaxed. Ruth parted his lips and took note of the blue tongue too big for his mouth. She accepted the canteen someone offered, then soaked her apron and wiped his face, dribbling some of the water into Moses’s mouth. Even with her limited medical knowledge, Ruth suffered no illusions that Moses might not make it through the night.
John stood by her. “How is he?”
“Not out of the woods yet.” She glanced upward through the trees. Only God could determine whether Moses lived or died. For the first time in over a year, Ruth offered up a prayer for God to intervene.
*
John kept his hand close to his pistol and watched the tree line, while men hastily constructed a litter to carry the wounded Moses. He hadn’t dared believe they’d find Moses alive, but the day seemed brighter because they had. He suspected the bushwhackers had returned and decided to wreck havoc on the innocent former slaves. Maybe they figured this would draw Ruth out. His senses also told him intentions toward Moses were violent from the beginning. Whether the man asked for it or not, he was the unofficial leader of those who lived in the river bottom. Most likely he’d stepped forward to defend his family, and was hung because of doing so.
He focused on Ruth’s struggles to keep Moses breathing. She used a stick to hold his tongue down, and allow air into his tortured throat.
Luke stepped to John’s side. “Want me to take some men scouting for the scoundrels that did this? Maybe we can pick up their trail.”
“If anyone’s willing. I’m going to take Ruth and Moses home.”
“I understand.” He clapped John on the shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to keep those men from coming back and getting to Ruth.”
John fought to keep the shudders at bay. “I appreciate that. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
“Care to tell me what this is all about?”
John rolled his neck on stiff shoulders. “She killed one of them in self-defense, after they murdered her parents. I suppose this is their idea of justice.”
Luke nodded. “So that’s why they were hanging around asking question. I’ll do my best to track them.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you want me to do if we find them?”
John cut him a glance. “Whatever you feel necessary.”
“Good.” Luke ran for his horse and called for four of the men to follow him, then continued south down the river.
Did he have a problem with Luke and the others killing the men? No, God forgive him, he didn’t. At this moment, he’d like to see them all swinging from the same tree they’d used to hang Moses. And he’d make sure the act was done correctly.
With the help of those left behind, John loaded Moses onto the travois. Ruth settled herself by his side, and continued her pursuit to keep their friend breathing. Occasionally, she put her mouth to his and breathed in hard enough to puff out the man’s cheeks.
John admired her determination, and prayed she didn’t fight a losing battle.
*
Please, God, please, God … Ruth kept up the mantra while she forced air down Moses’s throat. The fact they’d found him alive proved maybe God wasn’t finished with Ruth yet. That He hadn’t abandoned her when she’d pulled the trigger and ended a man’s life.
Moses groaned and thrashed against her hands.
“Stay still. We’re almost home and Grandma will take care of you. Tilly will be waiting. You’ll get to hold your son again.” She patted his shoulder and relaxed when he opened his eyes and gazed at her. “I know it hurts. Keep breathing and we’ll pull you through this. Concentrate on each breath in and out.”
Her words seemed to calm him, and Ruth searched for something else to say that would set his mind at ease. She kept visualizing the sight of his seemingly lifeless body dragging in the dirt. She closed her eyes and focused instead on the steady clop of Buster’s hooves.
The sun had just set over the mountain when they pulled into the shanty town. Tilly ran toward them, her hair around her shoulders and her skirt bunched around her knees. As soon as the litter stopped, she threw herself over Moses’s body and wailed as she caressed the raw skin around his neck. When he groaned again, she fell back with a shriek and raised a startled gaze to Ruth.
“Yes, he’s alive. Where’s Grandma?” She unfolded herself as her joints ached from the uncomfortable position she’d traveled in.
“I’m here.” Grandma bustled toward them with Tilly’s son in her arms.
“They’d hung him, thankfully, ineffectively.” Ruth sagged. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired. “I got some water in him, and kept him breathing. Other than that, I don’t know what to do.”
Grandma handed Tilly the baby then knelt beside Moses. “You most likely saved his life.” She patted Moses’s cheek. “Honey, open your eyes.”
He opened them to slits.
“Feeling poorly, ain’t ya?” She soaked a cloth in cool water and draped it across his throat. “Once the swelling goes down, you’ll most likely be as good as new, except for talking. Might not do that as well.” She sat back. “Only time will tell.”
Moses nodded and reached for Tilly’s hand. “No … sing.”
The words forced past swollen tissues resembled the croak of a hoarse frog. Ruth didn’t think she had any tears left, yet they spilled from behind her eyelids. The man lay, possibly dying, and forced out a joke.
“Don’t talk, Moses.” Grandma laid her fingers over his lips. “Not for a few days. Not even a word or two. Let your throat rest. Tilly, feed him as much broth as he wants, but no solid food. He wouldn’t be able to get any down anyway.” She waved Tilly closer. “Talk to him, but keep him silent. Let him hold the baby as much as possible. It’s love that will heal this fine man.”
“What happened, Tilly?” Ruth wiped her forearm across her eyes.
“We was just waking up. Some of the women were already getting the fires lit for breakfast.” Her voice wobbled. “Six armed men stepped from the trees and fired shots overhead that sent everyone scattering. They took branches and lit them to set fire to our homes. One of them grabbed me and Moses punched him. Before I knew it, they had my husband trussed up like a turkey and thrown across the back of a horse.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“I took care of the ones I could, and we buried the one I couldn’t,” Grandma said. “One young man was shot and killed. Thankfully, he didn’t leave a family behind.” She stood and brushed the dirt from her knees. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you Moses. You mind my instructions, you hear?”
He nodded and pushed to a sitting position. Tilly glanced at Grandma,
who nodded.
“It ain’t his legs that are hurt.”
Ruth helped John unhitch Buster from the litter, then waited for John to climb into the saddle before he swung her up behind him. With the help of one of the other men, Grandma settled onto a swaybacked mare with Hank behind her.
The group traveled toward town without speaking. The day’s horror flashed through Ruth’s mind like dry lightning in a summer sky. Trembling overtook her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around John in an attempt to steal some of his warmth. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed.
They were halfway home before Luke and the others caught up with them. “We lost their tracks. Looks like they headed over to the next mountain. The ground is too rocky to find any sign to follow.”
Ruth leaned her forehead against John’s back. They’d be back. She knew it. And next time, they’d come for her.
Chapter 27
Ruth stood outside the church and stared at the barn-red double doors. She still wanted to contribute toward a building for those in the lowlands, but hadn’t figured out how to do so without offending them. Her gaze traveled from the steps, upward to the steeple. She couldn’t manage on her own anymore. The past consequences of her life affected those around her more with each day. So, as if drawn by an invisible rope around her waist, her walk brought her here.
Would she find the answers she sought within these four walls? Or would God turn a deaf ear because of her past feelings for Him? Not according to Grandma. According to her, God didn’t hold grudges, only people did. Ruth took a deep breath and turned the handle. The door swung open, revealing new, polished oak pews. At the front stood a podium. Over it hung a seven foot cross of gleaming cherry maple. Clearly, love had gone into the building of this place.
Ruth’s legs trembled as she stepped into the sanctuary. Birds chattered from outside an open window, the sound hushed in the peacefulness of the church. The sweet scent of honeysuckle blossoms filled the air like a heavenly perfume.
Her boots rang as she approached the altar. Should she kneel? Bow her head? Why had her faith gotten so muddled? The rest of her family, while they still mourned, didn’t seem to harbor resentment to their Heavenly Father. Instead, they had dreams and plans for their future. All Ruth had was a restaurant and a crazy notion that if she gave into John she’d lose her independence.
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