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

by Cynthia Hickey

  John kicked dirt over the campfire. He’d found few trails the day before and now the night’s rain would’ve washed any tracks away. Not to mention his mind was foggy with a head ache. His face felt flushed and sometime during the day, he’d torn Miriam’s neat stitches in his shoulder. Moses seemed to fare all right. They’d ridden in silence, thus giving his throat a rest. John made his way to the river’s edge and splashed cooling water over his head.

  “You’re not going to die on us, are you?” Luke joined him.

  “Not yet.” John leaned against a boulder. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Luke peered into his face. “We’ll find her.”

  “I know.” John wiped a hand across his face. “She’s been out here for a day and a night. We haven’t seen a track in hours. Maybe they didn’t take the trail down the mountain. They must’ve veered off. I’m taking a look down the river.”

  John sloshed his way through mud and puddles as he rounded a bend. He swiped his arm across his face to wipe away the perspiration that dripped in spite of the cooler temperature. His heart stopped and he reached for the pistol at his side.

  In a small clearing was a campfire with embers still glowing red. His gaze scanned the ground where several pairs of feet gouged the dirt. He glanced toward the tree line and ran to his left to pick up a rope that had clearly been cut through. At his feet lay a bloody arrowhead. He bent and pocketed the tool. Good for you, Ruth. He whirled and sprinted to join the others. Each footfall jarred his shoulder and sent stabs of pain through his back.

  “She’s escaped.” He explained his findings to Luke. “We need to redirect our efforts up river. If I know Ruth, she’ll follow it back home.”

  “If she doesn’t get recaptured first,” Luke said tossing a saddle over his horse.

  “Thanks, Luke. That thought really hadn’t crossed my mind.”

  “Just want you to be realistic.” Luke turned. “The chances of Ruth reaching Painted Bluff without them catching her is a long shot, and you know it.”

  “If I had two good arms, I’d punch you in the mouth.” John clenched his fist.

  “Don’t let that stop you. It ain’t your right arm that’s hurt.”

  John sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

  Luke grinned. “Because you look like death warmed over and I’m thinking we need you angry to keep you on your feet.”

  “I’m angry.” John allowed Luke to help him onto Buster’s back. “I’ll keep going as long as it takes.”

  “And keel over dead as soon as we get home, most likely.” Luke swung onto his horse and they waited while Moses and Hank joined them.

  “We’re following the river north, fellas.” John led the way.

  *

  Ruth woke with wet leaves stuck to her cheek as the sun peeked over the mountain. Her stomach rumbled reminding her how long it’d been since she’d eaten. She lay still and listened for sounds of her pursuers. Other than the rush of the river, the day sounded quiet. She crawled from her shelter and popped the kinks from her back, wishing for something to take away the pain that rippled through her body.

  She ran her fingers over her face. No one would recognize her with her swollen cheek and lip. Not to mention the scratches that marked her arms. After sliding down the embankment, she fell to her knees in the mud beside the river and gulped the water.

  The ridge she’d traveled down the night before loomed before her. Could she stay on the riverbank to Painted Bluff or would the bank disappear in places? Ahead of her stretched damp mud and she decided to take her chances. If she spent another night in the woods, she’d find shelter again away from the water.

  Around a bend, Rachel discovered a bush of Muscadine grapes and fell upon them like a ravenous bear. She couldn’t be more than a day’s walk from home, yet her limbs trembled from being exposed to the elements during the night and the abuse she’d suffered at Hodge’s hand. Belly full, she wiped her hands on her skirt and continued down the riverbank.

  The longer it took for John to find her, the more her mind wanted to dwell on the fact that maybe he was unable to come for her. Maybe he was too severely injured, or worse, dead. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and refused to cry. The Lord would help her home, and He would protect John. She had to dwell on that, not the negative what ifs.

  Her feet dragged, caked with clay, and weighed what felt like ten pounds each. She needed to increase her speed, but didn’t have the energy. Where was John?

  She scanned the rim above her. If he was unable to come, where were the others? The townspeople she’d helped, served meals to? Loneliness and despair draped her like a sodden canvas blanket.

  A wind picked up, blowing a chilly breeze across the water. Ruth wrapped her arms around her waist and trudged face first against the wind. Lord, I really need your help. I know I’m new to all this trusting you, but I’m out of my element. I’m used to rushing headlong into a situation and finding a solution. What do I do now?

  She shivered and glanced at the sky. Clouds rolled in again, heavy with rain. She coughed and hunched her shoulders. There’d be no stopping unless the weather made travel impossible.

  Where were Hodge and his men? She suffered no delusions that they weren’t still looking for her. They’d do so until locked up…or dead.

  She stumbled and fell, landing face first in the wet soil. She spit out a leaf and turned her head, too exhausted to move. A print in the dirt stopped her heart. With trembling fingers, she outlined the hoof print. Either John or Hodge passed this way heading toward home. Ruth pushed to her feet. She’d follow the tracks and take her chances. Please, God, hold off on the rain.

  From the other side of the river, she spotted a black bear. Her breath caught even knowing the animal wouldn’t cross the river to get to her. Ruth looked in both directions and tried to remember The River’s Pride’s schedule. No, the keel boat wouldn’t be by for a few more days.

  Ruth lifted a broken branch and used it as a walking stick. The mud sucked at her feet. Maybe it would be faster traveling above the bluff. She glanced up and spotted four men on horseback.

  Chapter 31

  “Ruth!”

  “John.” Ruth sagged to the ground in a puddle of muddy calico. Thank you, Lord. No sooner had she hit the ground than she began to cry. Huge hiccupping sobs that shook her body. For what seemed like forever she’d kept up a brave front, now the relief at being found swamped her like a summer monsoon. Through eyes blurred with tears, she watched as John made his way down the hill to her side.

  He grabbed her to him and chanted her name as his hands brushed over her face, her hair, her arms. “Look at you.”

  She glanced at the dried stain on his shoulder then cupped his cheek. “Look at you.”

  The both gave a nervous laugh and John lowered his head to kiss her. His skin burned to the touch. “We need to get you home. You’re sick.” Ruth pulled free.

  A muscle ticked in John’s jaw. “We aren’t going home until we find Hodge and his men. They won’t rest until you’re dead. We can’t lead them back to town.”

  Ruth’s stomach dropped. “I know, but you’re burning up.”

  “I’ll live.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “They can’t be far. Not if you’re on foot and they’re on horseback.”

  “How did you find me?”

  His lip curled. “I saw you sitting in the mud.” He pulled her close to his uninjured side. “If you hadn’t been sitting in the open, I would’ve passed by. The rain last night wiped away your tracks.”

  “I saw your hoof prints.” Ruth pointed.

  John’s smile faded. “Those aren’t ours.” He tugged her hand and pulled her to the top of the bluff to join the others.

  All three sported grins to rival a child’s at Christmas.

  “You look mighty awful, Miss Ruth,” Moses told her.

  “Probably like you sound. Thank you for coming after me.” She glanced at each of them. They nodded and touched the brim of thei
r hats.

  Ruth waited until John mounted, then climbed up behind him. The heat from his fever radiated through his shirt. She laid her chilled cheek against his back and prayed they’d find Hodge soon so John could be doctored.

  “Moses, head down to the river’s edge and make sure we’re following the tracks,” John ordered. “Let me know if we veer off course.”

  Moses nodded and headed his mule down the steep incline. Within minutes, he peered at the mud and pointed north, then led the animal in that direction. John motioned for the others to move out.

  The only sound was the plop of raindrops falling from leaves, the muted thud of horse’s hooves, and John’s cough. Ruth’s eye lids grew heavy as her shivers decreased with the help of John’s warmth.

  *

  John stayed in the saddle by sheer determination. He tried to stifle his coughs in order not to worry Ruth who slept against his back. Luke tossed him a worried glance, and John turned his head. Stubborn or not, he wouldn’t return to town until Hodge and his men were dealt with.

  Moses gave a low whistle and pointed to a thicket ahead of them, before riding his mule to John’s side. “They’re right beyond those trees. They’re clearly headed toward Painted Bluff.”

  John nodded. “We need to stop them before they reach town and more of our people are shot.” He shook Ruth awake. “Time to get down, sweetheart.”

  “We’ve found them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need a gun.”

  “You’ll stay here with Moses.” John slid to the ground and helped her down, his shoulder screaming with the effort.

  “I will not.” Her eyes flashed. “I have a bone to pick with that man.”

  John rubbed the area between his eyes, in no mood to argue, and not having the strength to do so. “I’ll give you a rifle if you promise to stay here by the horses. I can’t worry about you. Please.”

  “Are you going to kill him?”

  “Not if I can help it. I’d rather put him in jail and telegraph the Marshall. I did enough killing in the war to last ten men a lifetime.” He handed Buster’s reins to Ruth. He caressed her cheek then planted a kiss on her forehead, the only part of her face that didn’t look sore. “We’ll be back in a while.”

  She nodded. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’ll be here praying. I love you, John Powell.”

  His steps faltered as he turned. He’d prefer taking her home to facing down the men who treated her so badly. “I love you, Ruth Stallings.” With her declaration giving him fortitude, he led his men through the thick brush until he peered at the campsite Hodge had erected beneath low hanging trees. The overhead branches blocked the smoke from descending above the treetops.

  Hodge’s men passed a bottle of booze and a handful of jerky between them. Good. Drunken men would be easier to capture. John held up a hand to silence Luke and Hank and they hunkered down in the brush to wait.

  By dusk, the men in the clearing were stumbling. A couple snored from unrolled blankets. John grinned. It’ll be easier than taking candy from a baby. He pulled his pistol from its holster and moved forward. Luke and Hank flanked him.

  “On your feet, gentlemen, and hands in the air.” John pointed his weapon at Hodge.

  One man drew and Luke fired, dropping him like a ton of rocks. Hank did the same with another.

  “You’ve killed two more of my brothers.” Hodge placed his hand on the gun at his hip.

  “If you don’t want a bullet to wipe out your family line, Mr. Hodge, I suggest you come with me.” John motioned his head to the right. “I’ve nothing against shooting you before we reach town, but I’d hate to waste a bullet.”

  Hodge swore and tossed his gun at John’s feet then waved for the other two men to do the same. “What do you aim to do with us?”

  “I’ll let the Marshall decide.”

  *

  “I can’t stand this waiting.” Ruth paced.

  “I understand, Miss Ruth. It’s hard for me too.” Moses picked at his fingernails with a thin stick.

  A twig snapped and Ruth aimed her pistol in the direction of the sound. Moses rose from the boulder he’d been sitting on and stepped to her side, his rifle at the ready.

  Ruth tightened her grip when Hodge stepped into sight. She relaxed when she spotted John behind him. John left Hodge and the others under the watchful gaze of Luke then fetched a rope from his saddlebag.

  He tossed it to Ruth. “Thought you might want to do the honors.”

  “Gladly.” She handed Moses her pistol then tied the rope securely around Hodge’s neck while Luke and Hank secured the other two.

  “You can’t do this!” Hodge fought against the restraint.

  “What? A lead is only good for a horse and a woman?” Ruth yanked on the rope for good measure, deriving a sense of satisfaction at the man’s grunt. “You ought to be glad I don’t put a bullet into your skull.” She patted his shoulder. “Try to stay on your feet. I can smell the whiskey on your breath and we’ve a bit of a climb ahead of us.”

  John laughed then bent over in a fit of coughing. Ruth climbed onto Buster’s back and secured Hodge’s lead to the saddle horn. “John, you ride behind me and rest.”

  “No argument this time.” He coughed again and accepted Luke’s help with mounting.

  The ride back to town was the longest of Ruth’s life. She kept Buster at a slow walk, not because of the man who stumbled behind them, but because of the one who leaned against her. John’s coughs worsened. Almost like he’d held his health in check until her rescue.

  When they reached the shanty town, Moses was more than happy to veer off and be welcomed by his wife and infant son. Luke and Hank continued with Ruth and John until they came in sight of the mercantile.

  Hank reined to a stop. “I’ll get Miriam up to your place real quick.”

  “And I’ll get these scoundrels locked up,” Luke added. “Ruth, you concentrate on getting my brother in bed.”

  She untied Hodge’s rope and handed him over, then nodded and urged Buster quicker toward the house. John’s weight sagged against her and it was all she could do to keep both of them in the saddle.

  Once they arrived in front of Luke’s house, Ruth called for her sisters to help her get John down. They rushed from the house, exclaiming over the bruises and cuts on her face.

  “I’ll worry about myself once John is taken care of.” With Deborah and Sarah steadying John in the saddle, Ruth slid to the ground. Between the three of them, they managed to get him down without him falling too roughly to the ground. With Ruth beneath one shoulder, Deborah the other, and Sarah behind, they helped him up the stairs and into Luke’s bed.

  Ruth wanted to cry when Grandma bustled in with her doctoring bag in one hand. “Oh, my, sweetie. Let me take care of the sheriff, and you’re next. Deborah, fetch me some hot water and the whiskey for the sheriff. Sarah, fill the tub for Ruth.” She speared Ruth with a glance. “I expect you to soak in it while I doctor this good man.”

  “I want to stay.”

  “No. Ain’t proper. Get now. I can manage here. If not, I’ll fetch the Widow Blye.”

  As she left, Ruth heard Grandma exclaim over the redness of John’s wound. Ruth leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and prayed.

  Chapter 32

  Ruth lowered herself into the tub. Every scratch and scrape on her protested at the hot water, while her sore muscles seemed to sigh in relief. Deborah had even laid a precious bar of rose-scented soap beside the tub.

  “I’ve never seen so many bruises on anyone before.” Deborah pulled together the two blankets she’d hung to provide Ruth some privacy. “And why does your neck look like you’ve been hung? They didn’t try to hang you, did they?” Her eyes widened while her hand fluttered around the collar of her dress.

  “No, just led me behind the horse.” Ruth laid her head back and closed her eyes. What was Grandma doing upstairs? Would John’s injury require the same amount of care that Luke’s had? Was he
in danger of dying? She shouldn’t be soaking in a tub while he needed her help. Somehow, she’d have to convince Grandma to let her care for him.

  “They’re locked up.” Luke spoke from the other side of the curtain.

  “You can’t be in here!” Deborah shrieked and ducked through the curtain to shoo him away. When he’d left, she poked her head back through the overlap of the blankets. “I’m sorry, Ruth, he snuck by me.”

  “No harm done.” Having a man on the other side of a curtain while she bathed was the least of her concerns. She’d walk naked through town if it would guarantee John’s recovery. She lowered herself until the water closed over her head. She’d like to stay that way for hours and shut out the world. Someone yanked on her hair and pulled her up.

  “Are you trying to drown yourself?” Grandma loomed over her with her arms crossed. “I’ve called your name three times.”

  “Just shutting out the world for a while.”

  “Let me help you.” Grandma rubbed the bar of soap in her hands and ran her fingers through Ruth’s hair. “Once we’ve got you cleaned up, I’ll put salve on your cuts. You look like death warmed over, no offense. Some witch hazel will help that swollen eye and lip.”

  “How’s John?” Ruth stared into Grandma’s eyes, her heart in her throat.

  Grandma didn’t flinch. “He’ll be all right. The gunshot is inflamed, but not infected. I cleaned it real good.”

  “What about the fever?”

  Grandma grinned. “I think he’s got influenza. Still serious, but we’ll take good care of him.”

  Ruth’s shoulders sagged, and she sobbed. Grandma set down the soap and pulled Ruth’s wet body into her arms as far as the tub would allow. “I was so afraid. Afraid I’d never see him again, then afraid he’d die on me.”

  “You’ve had a time of it, that’s for sure. But God pulled you through, and He’ll continue to do so.” Grandma reached for a towel. “Come on, let’s get you tended to, then you can sit with John for a while.”

  With a scratchy wool army blanket wrapped around her, Ruth sat and allowed Grandma to dab her wounds with witch hazel. Weariness tugged at her limbs, enticing her with thoughts of bed. She straightened and shook her head, knowing rest wouldn’t come until she discovered for herself how John fared.