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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Ruth glanced John’s way and held up her hand. He wouldn’t stand down, or let them take her without a fight. She needed to stop him. Hodge kept his musket leveled at Ruth’s chest. John took another step forward.

  A shot rang out from behind the jail. It ripped through John’s shoulder, and he dropped to the ground. Hodge grabbed Ruth and held her in front of him like a shield.

  John spit dirt from his mouth and struggled to his knees.

  “Drop the gun, sheriff, or she dies right here in front of you, I swear it.”

  John dropped his pistol as his blood ran down his arm and puddled beside him, turning the ground a rusty color. His vision darkened as Hodge dragged Ruth out of sight.

  Within minutes, John was surrounded by his men and helped to his feet. He tried to shrug them off. “Forget about me. Go after Ruth.”

  “They’ll shoot her if we do.” Luke tugged John’s good arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you patched up, and we’ll track them in the morning. They won’t be as edgy then.”

  “Ruth could be dead by morning.” Smoldering embers resided in John’s shoulder and his shirt sleeve was saturated. Not to mention the dizziness that threatened to fell him.

  “I don’t think so. If they wanted her dead that fast, they would’ve shot her when she gave herself up.” Luke helped John into Hank and Miriam’s place. “I’ve sent Hank for Miriam. She’ll be here to doctor you soon.”

  John covered his eyes with his uninjured arm. “What am I going to tell Miriam?”

  “That you did your best. I was on my way when I heard gunfire. Saw the whole thing.” Miriam bustled to his side. “Let’s cut off this shirt and see what we’ve got.”

  “You’ve others to attend to. Daniel. His brother.”

  Miriam breathed sharply through her nose. “Daniel is dead. Sarah wails over him as we speak. His brother was only grazed, and Moses is rounding up a posse.” A sad smile stretched her lips. “Surprisingly, the men are listening to him, regardless of his skin color. My Ruth is well loved here.”

  “Yes, she is.” John gritted his teeth against the whiskey Miriam poured into his wound. He’d kill Hodge and each of his men with his own hands if they harmed one hair on Ruth’s beautiful head. He’d die himself if he was too late to save her.

  “The bullet went clean through, John. You’re lucky. You’ll be sore, but there’s no reason why you can’t go after Ruth in the morning.” She shrugged. “Well, there are plenty of reasons, but none you’ll listen to.”

  “I’ll go now.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. Your brother has a good point. Let the Bushwhackers think you’re hurt worse than you are. Maybe they’ll lower their guard a bit.”

  John sighed. They were right. He couldn’t go after them without a plan. Doing so would only endanger Ruth more.

  Miriam unrolled fresh gauze and wrapped his shoulder. Once she’d finished, she took his face in her two hands. “You bring back my girl in one piece, John Powell.”

  “I’ll bring her back or I won’t return.”

  Chapter 29

  Hodge looped a hangman’s noose around Ruth’s neck and led her behind his horse like a dog with her hands tied behind her back. The fibers chaffed her skin. Perspiration burned the raw welts.

  “Where are you taking me?” Ruth forced her voice to remain steady. Most likely the leash he tugged her along with would be the one he used to lynch her. Not the way she imagined she’d die. Instead, she’d always thought she’d die in her own bed, a lonely old spinster. Her chin quivered. Not anymore. She’d ask John to marry her as soon as she was free of these men. She didn’t care if it was against propriety. Her stomach soured at the notion that she might not see the sun rise in the morning.

  “Shut up.”

  “I have a right to know.” Ruth tripped over a rock and sprawled across the trail. Without the use of her hands, she fell on her face. The breath left her in a whoosh. “Oh.”

  Hodge dragged her for several feet before halting so she could get to her feet. She spit out dirt and narrowed her eyes. If only she had a gun. Her cheek felt scraped, along with her knees. Both burned like the dickens, and Ruth gritted her teeth to keep from yelping. Good thing for Mister Hodge that Ruth’s hands were tied.

  She glanced behind her at the other five men who laughed at her fall. They wouldn’t be laughing when John found her. If he found her. She hadn’t missed the spreading stain of blood through his shirt. Please, God, don’t let his wound be serious. There wasn’t a lot of point in worrying over whether he’d catch up to him. John Powell wouldn’t let anything stop him, short of death. Ruth knew that by now. And he wouldn’t come alone.

  The knowledge gave her strength to continue as Hodge led them down the mountain. Ruth concentrated on putting her feet in as secure a spot on the rocky trail as she could. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  “You don’t need to know.” Hodge glared over his shoulder. “If you don’t shut your trap, you won’t make it there with your tongue!”

  “Could you spare some water? I’m parched.”

  “Ain’t got any. Wait until we reach the river.”

  At least now she had a general idea of their destination for the night. They passed a mossy section of ground and Ruth took care to grind the heel of her boot into the soft undergrowth. “You know, prisoners of war are treated better than what I’m getting.”

  “You killed my brother in cold blood!”

  “You are sadly mistaken.” Ruth’s legs trembled from the hike, and her breath came in gasps. She eyed the setting sun. Surely they’d stop for the night soon. If not, Hodge would have to drag her the rest of the way. “It was a matter of self-defense. Even someone would as thick a skull as you seem to possess should realize that.”

  “Woman, I’m warning you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I had help from a pretty little canary.” Hodge grinned.

  Ruth sucked in a breath. Marsha, the little sneak. “How much did you have to pay her?”

  “I told you to shut your trap.” Hodge shoved aside a branch to allow his horse to progress and let the limb snap back. Ruth gasped as it struck her in the face and scratched her cheek. Another ripped her skirt. The cad! Obviously it wasn’t enough that he had her trussed up like a turkey, he wanted her belittled and beaten too. She refused to show him her fear, or how weariness ate at her bones.

  By the time they reached the river, Ruth wanted to cry from exhaustion, not to mention the pain around her neck and wrists. Hodge cut the rope from her hands and tied the lead around her neck to a tree. She could reach the water, barely, and scooped handful after handful of the cool drink into her mouth and soaked her swollen hands. Thirst quenched and most of the grime washed from her face and arms, Ruth rested against the trunk of an oak tree and studied the area.

  One of her captors built a fire and soon the tantalizing aroma of coffee teased her. The men passed around strips of jerky. Ruth’s stomach rumbled, despite the acid churning inside.

  “Can I have something to eat?”

  Someone tossed her a chunk. To the man’s amusement, it landed just out of Ruth’s reach. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She refused to grovel, despite the fact that the peppered meat mocked her, calling her name. She turned her head and focused on a hawk soaring over the river in search of prey. When the raptor soared and emerged with a fish in its grasp, Ruth’s stomach grumbled louder.

  When the sun finally descended, a chilly breeze blew across the water. Ruth wrapped her arms around her waist, and shivered. “Can I have a blanket or something?”

  Hodge downed the last of his coffee. “No.”

  “If I freeze to death, you won’t have the satisfaction of hanging me.” Ruth forced the words through chattering teeth.

  Hodge’s teeth flashed through his beard. “Who said anything about hanging?”

  “You do plan on killing me, right? I mean, why else would you drag me all the way out here?
”

  “I got my reasons. You murdered my little brother. I think my ma might have something to say to you.”

  Uh-oh. Ruth was no stranger to a woman’s bite. She’d dealt out plenty of her own, mostly with sharp words, but nevertheless, his words made her blood run colder than the dropping temperature. “My name is Ruth Stallings. I’m nineteen years old and own a restaurant.” Maybe if she told them about herself, they’d look at her as a person and not an animal. “I have two sisters and a grandmother. The sheriff loves me.”

  Hodge rose to his feet. “What are you blathering about?”

  “The black man you hung is alive, saved by my hand. I am a cherished child of God and an upstanding citizen of Painted Bluff.”

  Hodge marched over to her and backhanded her. Ruth’s lip split, filling her mouth with the metallic test of blood. Her right cheek began to swell. “I am my Beloveds and my Beloved is mine.” She grinned up at him.

  Hodge spit at her feet and turned back to the fire. Ruth’s captors unrolled their beds and stretched out beside the fire. One of them pulled a bottle from his saddlebag, took a swig and passed it around.

  Ruth scanned the shadows. There had to be a way out of there before she found herself surrounded by a handful of drunken crooks.

  She gripped the rope in both hands and tugged. The knot tying it around her neck was too tight for her fingers to maneuver without a visual. She tried rubbing the length against the rough bark of the tree until exhaustion forced her back to a sitting position. Tears pricked her eyelids. She couldn’t sit back and wait to die.

  God, I know we haven’t spoken much lately, but I really need your help. Please show me the way. I know there is one, I’m just not seeing it.

  It occurred to her that maybe dying the next day was part of God’s plan for her. She squared her shoulders. So be it, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. God, please send John quickly.

  Ruth curled into a ball beneath the low hanging branches of an oak tree and let the tears flow. Hodge and his men had shared a bottle of whiskey and fallen asleep, secure in their knowledge that Ruth couldn’t go anywhere.

  She continued to whisper prayers until God’s peace rested on her. Along with a promise of freedom.

  Locusts buzzed from the brush around her. The river gurgled southward. Her bladder screamed for release.

  She crawled around the tree, dragging her leash with her. A sharp rock cut her hand, and she hissed in pain. Wait! She felt in the rotting leaves and grasped an old arrowhead. Relieving herself would have to wait. Ruth began to feverishly saw through the rope.

  The blood from her palm made the smooth piece of iron slippery and she dropped it. No, please. She scrambled beneath the tree until her fingers closed around it again.

  *

  John lay in his cabin and stared at the ceiling. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. The sight of Ruth leaving with Hodge and his men would haunt John forever.

  His shoulder pained him, making rest impossible, especially with Moses snoring from a pallet on the floor. The man had gone home long enough to see to his wife and son, then returned, determined to join the posse that would leave at daybreak. They’d find Ruth. John had no doubt. He prayed they’d find her in time. Accompanied with Luke, Moses, and Hank, all good trackers, they’d find the outlaws and haul them to jail if itchy fingers didn’t send them to their graves instead.

  His soul cried out to God for peace and reassurance that all would be set to right. John wouldn’t want to walk the streets of his beloved town without Ruth by his side. And what about the mysterious disappearance of Marsha? No doubt she was somehow connected to Hodge knowing with certainty that Ruth had moved here. How much was a woman’s life worth?

  The same amount of silver coins paid to betray Christ? With his good hand, John rubbed his chin, scraping against the whiskers. He swung his legs over his bunk. There’d be no sleep tonight.

  Moses grunted and sat up. “Your shoulder paining you?”

  John winced at the tortured sound of his voice. “A little, but not as much as my heart. How’s your throat?”

  Moses nodded and kicked off the thin sheet he’d covered himself with. “I’ll live. I thank the good Lord every minute that He made me taller than most men. Other than you and your brother that is.” He moved to a pitcher and poured a mug of water.

  John accepted the offered drink, downed it, then handed the cup back for Moses to use. “I appreciate you staying with me, Moses. We’re a pair the two of us. Me with one good arm, and you with no voice worth speaking of. Of course, in time, we’ll be as right as rain again.”

  “God can hear me just fine, Sheriff.” His Adam apple bobbed. “Even with me sounding like a hoarse frog.”

  “I reckon He can.” John sighed. No amount of idle chatter would divert his mind from the awful things Ruth might be experiencing. Where was his faith that God would protect Ruth? How ridiculous to think he could’ve imagined being a preacher when he struggled at the first real trial to enter his life. He moved to a chair by the window and prepared himself for a long night of waiting for the sun to come up.

  A loud knock on the door woke him. John couldn’t believe he’d dozed off. He bolted from the chair with Moses close behind.

  “John!” Luke turned the handle and pushed the door open. “Buster’s saddled and waiting. Grandma and the girls prepared enough food for two days. Y’all ready?”

  “More than ready.” John snapped his suspenders over his shoulders, almost fell to his knees with the contact to his wound, and grabbed his pistol. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “You don’t look good, brother.” Luke tilted his head. “You got a fever?”

  “What if I do?” John shoved past him and used a stump to get onto his horse. “You gonna stand around busting my chops all day, or we going to go get Ruth?”

  “It’s your funeral.” Luke leaped on his roan and tossed the reins to a mule to Moses. “Old Blue is good and faithful, and all I could get on short notice.”

  “He’ll do.” Moses landed on the animal with a running leap.

  They galloped to join Hank and headed down the trail at the fastest, yet safest pace possible. John kept his gaze on the ground in the hopes of catching a sign, any sign, that Ruth and the Bushwhackers had passed that way. It wasn’t until they entered the hollow that he saw horse tracks and a boot print. A print the size of Ruth’s foot firmly planted in the soft ground to the side of the trail. Good, girl. Keep leaving me something to find you by.

  John wiped his sleeve across his perspiring face. His shoulder burned like someone held a branding iron to the skin. His vision narrowed, and his stomach threatened to lose the coffee he’d downed. He couldn’t pass out. Not now. He’d rest once they had Ruth safe where she belonged. The men could tie him in the saddle if they needed to, but he wouldn’t let a fever stop him.

  Chapter 30

  With a quarter moon for illumination, Ruth scrambled through dank underbrush. Her hand sank in a pile of rotted leaves and thick Arkansas clay. A horrific sense of de ja vu assailed her as she relived her experience from six months ago. This time, physically aching, heart pounding, she wasn’t familiar with her surroundings. Only with the all encompassing fear of not reaching freedom before recapture.

  An owl hooted and she jerked sideways. A broken branch jabbed her beneath the ribs, drawing blood. She clapped a hand to her side as tears sprang to her eyes. Maybe she should’ve stayed with Hodge and prayed John would find her before they killed her. No, she couldn’t have stayed tied to the tree like a wandering cow. She’d take her chances in the dark and unfamiliar forest.

  The thick trees cast shadows and played tricks with Ruth’s mind. She saw human shapes where none existed. Perspiration trickled down her sides despite the night’s chill.

  “Woman!” Hodge’s yell scared birds from their roost.

  Ruth choked back a sob and veered right. She’d hoped to have more distance between them before someone woke and discovered her gone
. She crashed through dead foliage and slid on mossy ground. She needed thickness to hide, yet didn’t want to wander too far from the river. She needed the expanse of water to guide her home.

  A twig snapped a few feet behind her and Ruth dove into a grove of thorny bushes. Hodge and two men passed close enough she could’ve reached out and touched them. Instead, she clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. If only she could control the loud beat of her heart. She feared they’d hear and she stared through the leaves until her eyes hurt from the strain.

  “Forget taking you home. I’m going to shoot you on sight!” Hodge marched past. “First one knee cap then the other. I’m going to enjoy listening to you scream.”

  Ruth waited several minutes then untangled herself and dashed back toward the river, using the sound of the water as her guide. She burst into a clearing and startled a white-tail deer into prancing out of sight. Ruth sagged to the water’s edge and splashed her face. If only she had wings on her aching feet. Or a sense of direction without the White River to guide her. She glanced at the sky. Slate grey clouds rolled in, tumbling over each other in their haste to dump their burden. Her spirits sank further.

  Hodge had dragged her for a day and now, without rest, Ruth fled through the night like someone who’d indulged into much whiskey. Her feet felt blistered but she thought if she removed her boots for even a moment, she’d never get them back on. Soon, the clouds thickened more and visibility became as thick and black as ink.

  She needed shelter before the rain came. With hands in front of her like a blind woman, Ruth slid down a bank, praying for a cliff overhang to hide beneath. After a mile, she’d found nothing and drizzle dripped from the clouds like a woman’s tears. She searched for a place to climb back up. There! A place darker than its surroundings.

  Please, God, let the cave be empty. Ruth lifted a small boulder and rolled it inside. Silence greeted her. She dropped to her hands and knees and climbed inside to wait out the night.

  *