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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Jacob came from the city. She’d ask him tomorrow. Hopefully, he’d have some words of wisdom to calm her spirit. A smile crossed her face as she pictured him with his Colt tucked into his pants. Just in case, he’d said.

  Phoebe rolled out of bed groaning. She elbowed Viola. “Get up. Chores are waiting.”

  “They’re always waiting.” Her sister pulled the quilt over her head.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Phoebe yanked the cover off her, dropped it on the floor, and then marched to where her day dress hung. She donned her clothes, tossed another warning to get out of bed over her shoulder and made her way to the kitchen.

  Grandma fried bacon over the stove. “JJ told me what you found.” She turned and waved her spatula. “Danger is coming, Phoebe. Mind your steps.”

  “Do you think Pa is dead?” She plopped onto a chair.

  “No, I don’t. I’d feel it in my bones if he was. I might feel a lot of things, but that ain’t one of them.”

  Phoebe glanced at her folded hands. “I’m going to visit the Widow Williams today. She’s got something to show me.”

  “Hmmph.” Grandma turned back to her cooking. “Looks like we’ll be adding her three kids to ours one day. I hope to have you or Viola married off by that time or this cabin will burst at the seams.”

  Goodness. She remained fixated on having one of them marry Jacob Wright. Phoebe took a deep breath. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if the man chose her sister. Another blow from life. One she wouldn’t get over. She squared her shoulders. Well, she wouldn’t primp or act unseemly in order to win his favor. He’d have to love her as she was. Thorns and all.

  Why did everyone seem to know about her pa courting besides her? Had she been so wrapped up in self-pity to notice what went on with her family? Selfish, that’s what she was. That attitude would stop now. She’d do what God required of her and be content doing so.

  “JJ said Mr. Wright would join us for Thanksgiving. If you hurry, you might have time to make yourself a new dress. Viola will have that pink one you bought her. Can’t let the girl show you up. You gotta give her a run for her money.” Grandma set the bacon on the table. “Blue looks real purty on you. I’ve got some fabric in the cabinet. I was going to make my burying clothes with it, but I want you to have it. I’ve decided to wear green when I’m dead.”

  Wonderful. An outfit made from something planned for burial. Phoebe sighed as her siblings rushed to join them at the table. One more thing to do. Grandma wouldn’t quit until the dress was made. She’d glance through the catalog and copy one of the gowns in there. It’d be every bit as fashionable as Viola’s birthday gift. Despite her misgivings over Grandma’s donation, a piece of the wall around Phoebe’s heart cracked.

  “Oh, and be practicing on the Dulcimer. I want Mr. Wright to hear your voice. Like an angel it is.” Grandma gave Phoebe a wink.

  “I can sing.” Viola pouted, joining them.

  “Like a hound dog.” JJ laughed, eliciting a glare from his sister.

  “I don’t sing for strangers, Grandma.” Phoebe scooped eggs onto her plate. “You know that.”

  “He ain’t a stranger.”

  “He’s not family.” Phoebe forked food into her mouth, aware of the fact she wished he were, as long as he came as her husband. She sighed. Dreaming about a handsome face wouldn’t get her work done. She finished eating and pushed her plate aside. “Viola, do the dishes. I’ll be home in a bit.”

  “I’m getting tired of you bossing me around like I’m a child.”

  Phoebe shrugged. “Then start doing a woman’s share of the work.” She glanced around the table at the younger children. “Y’all better hurry and get to school.” She slung her sweater around her shoulders, grabbed the shotgun, and then stormed out of the house.

  God, I’m sorry. But times are hard, and I’m worn out from worrying about Pa.

  She felt like an old woman, aching in the bones and weary in her spirit. Thank God, the preacher would be in the hollow on Sunday. She needed uplifting and a time of fellowship.

  The widow’s log cabin sat back from the road, surrounded by weeds and thick brush. A three-legged dog brayed from the end of a tattered rope as Phoebe made her way to the porch. The front door swung open before she could knock.

  “Come in. Quickly.” Nancy stepped back.

  Phoebe stepped into the dim recesses of a tiny but clean home. Three big-eyed children under the age of ten stared from their seats at the table. A bowl of oatmeal sat in front of each of them.

  “Come into the back room.” Nancy grasped Phoebe’s arm and dragged her with her. She shut the door to the bedroom then pulled a cardboard box from beneath her bed. “Your pa left this with me in case anything happened to him. I haven’t opened it. He said to give it to you.”

  Phoebe took the box. “Is my pa making or selling whiskey?”

  “No more than the other man. He told me he wanted to put a stop to the whisky running going on here. Said it’s reaching massive proportions.” Nancy twisted her apron. “I’m afraid they found out what he’s up to.”

  “What do you mean?” Phoebe’s knees weakened, and she sat on the bed.

  “Your pa was going to become one of them and sabotage their dealings.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid they discovered him.”

  “Thank you.” Phoebe rose. Her stomach recoiled. “If you find out anything, please send word.”

  “I will.”

  Instead of going home, Phoebe headed toward the schoolhouse. She sat on a stump a few yards from the building and opened the box. She unfolded a list of names from around a key. A gasp escaped her as she read Eli Coffman and the sheriff’s name among five others. Were these the men making illegal brew, or were they allies of her father? What would they do if they couldn’t trust the law?

  She gazed around the peaceful yard. From the position of the sun, it’d be lunchtime soon, and the quiet would be disrupted by childish games. A plan that turned her stomach formed in her mind. If successful, she might find out what happened to her father. But she might lose any chance at winning the heart of Jacob Wright.

  *

  Jacob followed his students outside for recess and spotted Phoebe sitting beneath a tree. His breath caught at the vision she made. The sun shone on her hair, highlighting the gold with streaks of white. Autumn leaves in colors of scarlet, pumpkin, and gold rained around her. He gazed a moment more to fix the image in his mind then made his way to her side.

  She closed the box in her lap and raised shadowed eyes. “Jacob.”

  “Were you expecting someone else?” He grinned and sat beside her. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Let me help.” Jacob placed a hand over hers. “I want to.”

  “People will think we’re courting, and I can’t let that happen.” She bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall forward.

  “Why not? I’d like the honor.” He tilted his head trying to see her face.

  Her sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. She glanced toward the play yard where the children screamed in a game of tag. “I’ve found out my father is involved in moonshine. If he never returns home, I’ve a family to raise.”

  “Any man you marry will gladly shoulder that burden with you.” What was she trying to say? Jacob leaned against the tree trunk and crossed his arms. She wasn’t turning him down because of a sense of duty. Something else ran through her pretty head. She wouldn’t get rid of him that easy. He wasn’t as shocked as he thought he’d be by her declaration of her pa’s dealings. Deep down, he’d already suspected as much.

  “Are you proposing marriage, Mr. Wright?” She stiffened, her eyes wide.

  Was he? He’d only known the woman a week, yet seemed to know everything he wanted to about her. Her strength wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. Whatever life dished out, Phoebe would handle with squared jaw and a stiff spine. A love of famil
y rose above her beauty and made her shine like the brightest star in the heavens. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine Phoebe as Mrs. Wright. “Is the idea awful to you?”

  “You’re a handsome man. Any woman would be honored to be seen hanging on your arm.”

  “Any woman but you, you mean. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? I’m sure I can help. I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. If not me, then God. His Word says to ‘cast our cares upon Him, for His burden is light.”

  “I’m familiar with the scripture. The people on this mountain aren’t completely ignorant.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply—“

  “I’m sorry. I’m tired, is all.”

  JJ dashed to their side. “Recess is about over, Mr. Wright. Can I ring the bell?”

  “Sure.” Jacob frowned. They’d resolved nothing. He hated to leave her without getting to the bottom of her troubles. “Wait for me when school is finished. Let me walk you home.”

  She shook her head and rose. “I’ve decided to accept Eli Coffman’s proposal. After a respectable period of courtship, of course. You and I can’t be anything other than friends. It’d be best if you set your sights on Viola.” With a tilt of her chin, she marched down the road. But not before he saw the beginning of her tears.

  Fine, Miss Phoebe Lillie. Pretend you don’t care. He knew different. Just as he knew he’d change her mind before a marriage to anyone but him could take place. If the woman wanted courting, then courting she would get. Hot enough to knock her stockings into the next county. And he’d find her father to boot. Dead or alive.

  The cowbell rang across the clearing and Jacob followed the students inside. Concentration flew out the window as he tried listening to the younger students read out loud. Especially when he spotted Eli standing outside the window. Thank the Lord, Phoebe had headed home.

  Eli stepped inside the moment everyone rose to leave. He waited, a grin beneath his straggly beard until Eli acknowledged him.

  “Eli.”

  “Teacher.”

  Jacob turned to erase the blackboard. When the man didn’t speak, he turned back to face him. “I’m busy. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Wanted to deliver the news myself.” He hooked his thumbs into his overalls and rocked on the balls of his feet.

  “What news is that?”

  “About me and Phoebe getting engaged. It’ll be all over the mountain by morning.”

  Jacob’s hand stilled. The woman worked fast, he’d give her that. He turned and speared the other man with his gaze. “I don’t aim to give up that easily, Eli. Now, I don’t figure you for a man that runs from a fight. Especially considering we both still carry bruises from the other one.”

  “You want to come to fisticuffs over this?” He stopped rocking.

  “No. I’m just saying, may the best man win.” Jacob set the eraser on the sill and extended his hand.

  Eli’s grin widened.

  8

  Jacob stood on Phoebe’s front porch clutching a bouquet of autumn flowers in one hand and a wrapped bottle of rose-scented toilet water perfume in the other. He’d spotted Eli’s mule tied outside and prepared himself for an evening of battle with the man. He patted the butt of his pistol, then knocked on the door.

  “Good evening, Jacob.” Viola opened the door and cocked a hip.

  “Happy Birthday, Viola.” Jacob handed her the gift. “You look lovely.”

  She twirled. “Phoebe mentioned you picked it out. Doesn’t the birthday girl get a kiss?” Viola puckered her lips.

  Jacob lifted her hand and brushed his lips across the soft skin. No sense in encouraging her. He’d met her type more times than he could count.

  The girl winked and sashayed ahead of him into the house. “I hope you like chocolate cake.”

  “My favorite.” He nodded to Eli who sat in a chair beside the fire then made his way to Phoebe’s side. “These are for you.” He placed a kiss on a cheek softer than a flower petal. “Although they don’t compare to your beauty.”

  She blushed and paused in her sprinkling of sugar on top of the cake. “You shouldn’t have.” She cast a nervous glance toward Eli. He frowned. Viola’s eyes cast daggers.

  Grandma’s gaze flicked between them from the comfort of her rocking chair, her wise eyes seeming to miss nothing. Her lips tilted at the corners. She clearly enjoyed the interaction between the sisters and the men vying for Phoebe’s hand.

  “Don’t worry about Eli.” Eli grabbed a mason jar from the shelf above the sink. “All’s fair in love and war, they say. The two of us have an understanding.” After placing the flowers in water, he turned and leaned against the counter. “Did Eli bring you anything?”

  “Shhh.” She carried the cake and placed it in the center of the table. “Would you step outside with me, please?”

  Jacob shot a grin toward the glowering Eli. “I’d be happy too.” Maybe wooing Phoebe would be easier than he thought.

  Once they stepped on the porch and closed the door, Phoebe whirled. If she could spit venom, she most likely would have. Her eyes turned the color of ice. Scarlet spots of color sat high on her cheeks. “What are you doing?”

  “A simple competition for your hand.” He crossed his arms.

  She planted fists on her hips. “I don’t want your attention!”

  “I beg to differ.” Jacob took one of her hands in his. Her eyes warmed into spring lakes he could drown in. He focused on lips the shade of cherries and wondered what if would feel like to kiss her. “What are you afraid of? That I might win?”

  “No.”

  “Is that a new dress? It’s a good color for you.”

  “Stop it. You’ll ruin everything.” She yanked free. “Oh, never mind.” Phoebe stormed into the house.

  Her words confirmed she had something up her cornflower-blue sleeve. Had she made the new dress to impress him or Eli? Either way, she looked more beautiful than a summer day, and he intended to enjoy her company. He squared his shoulders and reentered the house.

  Phoebe sat in a chair beside Eli, a polished Dulcimer on her lap. Her hand held a hawk feather. She took a deep breath and began to play, her voice melding with the music. Angels couldn’t have sounded sweeter. When she raised misty eyes to Jacob’s, his legs weakened, and he sat at the table.

  O hush you lest you break my heart

  She sang straight to his soul. A cry for help, it seemed. Lord, why must she be so stubborn?

  Ten thousand loves have already parted

  By the time she finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Except for maybe Eli who gazed at her with an attitude of ownership.

  “Beautiful, child.” Grandma dabbed her face.

  “My turn.” Viola stood in front of the fireplace and folded her hands before screeching out the verses to ‘O Susanna’.

  Jacob clinched his jaw. She might have a pretty face, but only a wounded cat would like her singing. Toddler Maggie clamped her hands over her ear, causing Jacob to bend and fiddle with his shoe to hide the urge to laugh. When Viola finished, he clapped along with the others and uttered a silent prayer of thanksgiving that she was finished.

  Phoebe smiled at her sister. “Time to cut the cake.”

  “I’ll help.” Jacob leaped to his feet.

  Eli crossed his arms. “Woman’s work, city boy. If you want to win a woman’s heart, learn your role in things.”

  “You do things your way, and I’ll do them mine.”

  “Good luck.” Eli guffawed and clapped him on the shoulder.

  Fine by him. Eli’s heavy-handed ways wouldn’t win Phoebe’s heart. If Jacob was a betting man, he’d lay money on it. The woman wanted to be courted, cherished, loved. All he’d ever seen on her face was the ghost of a smile. He’d get her to lay her troubles aside one day and laugh loud enough to be heard in the next county.

  *

  Phoebe glared at the two men resembling roosters squaring off in a yard full of hens. Couldn’t Jacob see he’d alread
y won her heart but she couldn’t accept the gift of love he offered? Not until she found out what happened to Pa? Should she explain to him? Would he wait for her?

  She shook her head to clear it of the questions rattling around inside. The look on his face told her he knew the song she’d sung had been meant for him. She tossed the rag she washed dishes with into the sink, splattering her new dress with dish soap. She’d take out the garbage. That would clear her head.

  “I’ll do that.” Jacob reached to take the trash can from her hand.

  “No, that’s okay. I need some fresh air to clear my head.”

  “Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers.

  “Let the woman do her work, city boy.” Eli lit a cigar.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes, ignoring the heated look from Viola. It would anger the girl to have the attention off her and on Phoebe. If she left, the men would have no choice but to pay attention to the birthday girl instead of strutting around for a favorable look from Phoebe. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  An idiot. That’s what she was. Playing with Eli’s affections could only guarantee trouble. He’d argued her request for a time of courtship, but the thought of being alone with the man made her nauseous. Not to mention the trickle of fear that ran down her spine when he looked at her. There was something off about the man. Phoebe pushed open the back door and stepped outside.

  The dark of night welcomed her. Bullfrogs serenaded with the sound of evening insects as background music. With no one to see, she grinned and skipped down the stairs toward the steel drum they used to burn their garbage in. Alone, the world didn’t hold as many burdens, and Phoebe could allow herself a moment of joy.

  “Phoebe.”

  She froze as her heart shot to her throat. “Pa?”

  Her father stepped from the shadows. The stock of a sawed-off shotgun showed beneath the bib of his overalls. “I’ve heard some disturbing news, daughter.”

  She threw herself into his arms. “Where have you been? I’ve been beside myself with worry.”