“There’s a gully to the left. Go over the bank and follow it. Hurry.”
The ground sloped, and Samantha scooted over the edge and into a gully not quite deep enough to hide her from view. She scurried along its length, following the winding path and ducking as she ran. After about a hundred feet, the ditch smoothed out and the trees thickened. “Now what?” She whispered the words as she looked back over her shoulder, cold dread wrapping around her stomach.
“Keep going straight.”
It was God speaking, she knew that now. The brush slapped her shoulders and tore at her skin, but she pushed through it, intent on keeping a straight path until the Lord told her different. The voices behind her had disappeared, but she didn’t trust them to stop looking. Those men sounded hungry for something, and it made her shiver clear down to her knees. She knew evil when she heard it.
“Stop.”
Samantha peered through the brush and trees but couldn’t understand what might be special about this spot. “What should I do, Jesus?”
“Crawl. There’s a hollow in the hillside. Stay there until I tell you.”
Samantha scrambled on her hands and knees, peering forward, then back over her shoulder. She was sure she heard a voice in the distance and faint footfalls. Where was the hollow? She stood and ran forward, bent almost double, pushing at the brush near the path and trying not to cry. She couldn’t find it! Please, God, help me. She wanted to scream the words but didn’t dare even whisper. Branches slapped her face as she poked her head into one bush after another, frantic intensity driving her now. The men must be right behind her—she could practically feel their breath on her neck.
Almost she jumped to her feet and started to run when a sense of peace, like the feel of a gentle hand stroking her hair, calmed her fear. She stopped moving and waited, hoping to hear His quiet, soft voice again.
Nothing.
What had He said? Crawl. There’s a hollow in the hillside. She’d been looking through the trees and the brush near the trail, not at the hillside. Samantha dropped to her knees and scooted over to her right, pushing away the dense brush. Ahh, there it was. And it could only be seen if you were on your knees. A grown man standing up would never see this hiding place.
She crawled around the brush, being careful not to break any branches or disturb the ground too much, and settled into the deep pocket, leaning her back against the curve of the dirt. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to quiet her racing heart. God had done it. He’d brought her to safety and hidden her. Mama used to tell her about God’s angels and how they’d cover a child with their wings if you were afraid at night. Were angels standing over her now, spreading their wings over her hiding place so those men couldn’t find her?
A branch snapped and Samantha huddled closer to the ground. “God, don’t let them find me,” she whispered under her breath.
“Anything over there?” The gravelly voice sounded like it came from the gully.
“Naw. She couldn’t just disappear. There’s no houses back here, just trees. Keep lookin’.”
Feet scuffled in the dry maple leaves dropped last fall, and arms thrashed at the brush. Samantha held her breath. God, please make them leave. She closed her eyes, feeling foolish, but somehow hoping if she couldn’t see them, maybe they wouldn’t see her.
“Nothin’.” The rough voice spit a string of oaths. “I figured she’d be an easy catch, but she’s plumb gone. And with all these leaves and fir needles, there’s nary a track.”
“We’d best get back to the train, or we’ll get left behind. Sure don’t need any coppers in the area tryin’ to find us.”
“No one knows we’re runnin’ from the law. We could hang out in these woods. Maybe we’d find us another girl skippin’ through the trees.” A mirthless laugh followed and sent Samantha’s heart plummeting.
“Naw. We need to get farther away from Portland; they could have wanted posters here with our faces on ’em. We’ll ride the freight train back and head north to Seattle, so’s we’re not in Oregon no more. Wouldn’t hurt to cross the state line into Washington, just to be safe.”
“I suppose, but this burg looks like it might be easy pickin’.”
“I said no. Now come on, let’s get back.”
The grumbling and swearing disappeared into the distance, but Samantha didn’t budge. The Lord had said to wait.
A sudden thought hit her, and she almost bolted from her hiding place. Joel! What if he went hunting for her? What if those men caught him?
“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered. “Please keep Joel safe, and keep him asleep.”
A gentle peace flowed over her for the second time that day. God would watch over her brother.
Another twenty minutes passed, and Samantha found herself fighting sleep. Now that the danger had lifted, she felt weak and shaky, and so very tired.
“Go to Joel now. You’re safe.”
Samantha burst into the barn and raced to the place where she’d left Joel sleeping. No bulge under the hay. No toes sticking out of the holes in his socks. No bleary-eyed brother asking for breakfast. She wrapped her arms around herself and stifled a sob. Didn’t God give her a peace about Joel? Where was he?
She spun around and ran back to the door. He must be outside in the back, taking care of personal business. She hated to intrude on his privacy, but knowing he was safe was more important. Keeping a watch over her shoulder and toward the railroad tracks in the distance, she moved with caution toward the trees. “Joel?”
Nothing.
In the distance, the train engine started to huff. “Joel?” It seemed safe to speak a little louder, but still her brother didn’t reply.
Could those men have found him and dragged him to the train? She dashed to the place they used in the mornings, calling frantically. She drew to a stop and looked all around. The maple and larch boughs bobbed gently in the breeze, and a blue jay screeched at her from his perch above her head. The train whistle split the air with its shriek, and steam puffed from the stack as it drew the cars slowly along behind.
“Oh, Lord, what should I do? Where’s my brother?” She sank to her knees and sobbed, giving in to the rush of fear she’d held at bay that swamped her now. She couldn’t lose Joel.
Suddenly her tears stilled, and she jumped to her feet. She was sitting here bawling like a baby, and Joel could be hurt—or captured!
A dog barked in the distance, and suddenly she knew. Joel had commented before, wondering what color the dog might be that barked each morning. She guessed the owner must work at the mill, and the dog started his barking after he was tied outside.
“God, keep Joel safe. Keep him safe. Keep him safe.” Her words chanted in cadence with her pounding feet as she dashed in the direction of the small house where the dog must live.
Five minutes later she arrived panting at a home surrounded with a fenced yard. But there was no sign of a dog—or Joel. A moment later, the dog barked again. Behind the house. She followed the fence as it cornered and arrived at the back of the wood-framed home. Her heart leapt into her throat. Joel sat on the ground patting the head of a huge black dog. Samantha grabbed the gate latch and jerked it up. The dog’s tail quit wagging and he started to growl, then dashed toward the fence, barking and lunging at the gate.
Samantha released the latch and jumped back, nearly falling over herself in her anxiety to escape the snapping teeth aimed at the bars of the gate.
Joel struggled to his feet and patted his leg. “Come on, boy. Here, boy. That’s my sister. She won’t hurt you.” The dog ignored the boy’s command and continued to bark.
Samantha took another step backward. “Joel! You come out of there this minute.”
“He’s my friend, Sammie. He likes me. See?” He moved toward the growling dog.
“No, Joel, don’t!” Samantha nearly shrieked the words, but her brother didn’t seem to hear. He continued to walk toward the animal, talking in a low, soft voice. Seconds later his outstret
ched fingers touched the dog’s back and it immediately calmed, then licked his hand. Samantha slumped against a nearby tree and heaved a sigh. “How did you tame him enough to get in the yard?”
Joel shrugged and stroked the big animal’s head, rubbing his ears and crooning quietly. “I stood outside the fence and talked to him. He wagged his tail and told me it was all right to come in and pet him, so I did. He’s not a mean dog, Sammie, he just don’t trust many people.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And how do you know that?”
He raised his head and looked at her with knowing eyes. “He told me.”
“Well, you come on out of there. We need to get back to the barn.” She took a step forward and reached for the gate. The transformation in the dog was instant. He sprang forward again, barking and snarling.
“If you open the gate, Sammie, he might run out. I don’t think he likes you.”
“I’m afraid you could be right.” Samantha’s heart sank, and she retreated back to the safety of a large maple tree. “Could you just ease out of the gate, real careful-like?”
Joel reached for the latch, and the dog pushed at Joel’s hand, then inserted himself between the boy and the gate. He raised a paw and planted it on Joel’s belt buckle, pushing him back, then turned to the gate and growled. “He don’t want me to leave, Sammie. He wants me to stay and pet him till his owner gets home.”
“We can’t do that, Joel. No one must see us, not even this dog’s owner.”
“But the owner’s a nice man, or this dog wouldn’t stay with him. I know he is.” Joel stroked the dog’s back and raised pleading eyes toward Samantha. “I’m tired of hiding and running away. Please, let’s stay here and meet the nice man who belongs to this dog?”
Samantha shook her head but didn’t reply. She felt trapped and helpless. She slid down against the rough bark of the tree and settled on the ground, thankful the dog hadn’t hurt her brother, but wishing she could get him out of that yard and back to the barn.
She wanted a home in the worst way, but it was so hard to trust a stranger.
Joel sat down and wrapped his arms around the animal’s neck, and Samantha put her head against the tree and closed her eyes. Just a minute or two of rest was all that she needed, then she’d get back up and figure out what to do. Her head nodded and she felt her body relax. It had been so long since she’d been able to just sit.
“Ho there, what’s all this?” A strange man’s voice yanked Samantha’s eyes open, and she looked wildly around, ready to run.
Chapter Thirteen
Samantha jumped to her feet and searched for the voice that had woken her from a troubled sleep. Had the men from the train followed her? Where was Joel?
A short, slender man with dark hair and twinkling eyes looked down at her from his position near the fence, then glanced over at Joel, who sat on the grass. The dog lay beside him, head in Joel’s lap.
“Buck!” The man spoke and the dog leapt to his feet and bounded over to the fence. A pat on his head and a stern word, and the animal lay down, head between his paws.
Joel struggled to his feet and beamed. “Is that his name, mister?”
“Yes, it is. What’s yours?”
“Joel McGavin. Buck’s a nice name. What’s his last name?”
Samantha slumped in relief. In his excitement her brother had given his real name, not Joel Stedman, tacked on by the orphanage when Mrs. Stedman took over their care. She’d meant to talk to him about which name to give, but somehow he’d instinctively chosen the right one.
The man laughed and reached over the fence to pat the dog’s head. “I guess it would have to be Gibbs, seeing as my name is Art Gibbs. So how did you tame Buck, Joel McGavin? I’ve never seen him let a stranger into the yard before, or allow someone else to pet him.”
Samantha sidled closer to the fence, relieved the man didn’t seem concerned about their presence in his yard. “He wouldn’t let me touch him, and he snapped at me when I tried to open the gate and take Joel home.”
Joel pushed to his feet and squinted at Samantha. “I’m hungry. My tummy is rumbling. Did you bring us somethin’ to eat?”
Samantha winced and shook her head, hoping Joel would understand he needed to quit talking.
Joel seemed to wilt at the action. “You didn’t bring us nothin’ to eat? But I’m hungry, Sammie!” His voice started to rise, and his lips drooped in a pout.
Art Gibbs glanced from the upset boy to Samantha and back again. “You haven’t had breakfast?”
Joel shook his head and scowled. “No. And I’m tired of bread and cheese every day. That’s all Sammie finds for us to eat, most days. I want some eggs and flapjacks and bacon.”
Gibbs’ serious eyes lingered on Samantha, then turned back to Joel. “How about you come in, and I’ll fix you somethin’? I came home early today, since one of my horses threw a shoe and needs tendin’ by the smithy.”
Samantha hunched her shoulders, unsure what to do. She longed for a hot meal and the man seemed kind, but after the scare with those two men in the woods, she wasn’t happy about trusting any strange man. Then she looked at Joel’s pinched face and felt her own stomach twist. Her brother had been hungry for days. The scant bread, cheese, and an occasional piece of fruit weren’t enough. Maybe this once they would eat since they’d already been seen. They could hightail it out of here as soon as they’d eaten. “Sure. Food sounds good. But what about your dog? He doesn’t like me.”
Art reached down and gripped the scruff of Buck’s neck. “He’ll be fine when he knows I’m allowin’ you to come in the yard.” He turned to Joel. “You never told me how you made friends with him.”
“I just talked to him and told him I wouldn’t hurt him. He likes me. He said so.”
Art raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He scratched his head. “He’s never talked to anyone but me before. Guess maybe you’ll have to come talk to him again. He gets lonesome when I’m at work all day.”
Gibbs swung open the gate and stepped through, still maintaining a grip on Buck’s collar, and waited for Samantha to precede him. He carefully latched the gate and motioned them to walk with him to the house.
Joel clapped his hands and bounced up and down. “Oh, good! Thank you, Mr. Gibbs. I get lonesome too, when Sammie has to go hunting for our food. I don’t like waiting alone in the woods or the barn.”
Samantha cleared her throat and took a step back. “I think we’d best go, Joel. We shouldn’t keep bothering Mr. Gibbs.”
“Nonsense. You agreed to come have breakfast with me, so come along.” He held the back door of his house open and beckoned.
A long moment passed with the man’s hand clutching the door before Samantha reluctantly walked through. There was no help for it now. They were going to get shipped back to Mrs. Stedman, she knew it.
Margaret was startled by the rap at her door. Clara hadn’t mentioned stopping by, and Andrew was working. Her heart jumped into her throat. Nathaniel. Would he dare come to her home? Surely not. If he did, she’d slam the door in his face. Nothing that man said would alter his past behavior. She proceeded toward the door slowly, laid her hand on the knob, and opened the door a crack.
A glance showed a man with two children in tow. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Oh yes, Mr. Gibbs. The man with the team of horses she’d met on the way to the store. She swung open the door and smiled. “Mr. Gibbs. What a pleasant surprise. Are these youngsters relatives of yours?”
He doffed his hat and tucked it under his arm. “No, ma’am. This here is Samantha and Joel McGavin.” A few heartbeats passed in silence before he spoke again. “They, ah…don’t have anywhere to live. I fed ’em, but they’ve been sleepin’ in a neighbor’s barn.”
Margaret stepped aside and motioned. “Come in.” She smiled at the two disheveled children. “All of you. Please.” She reached out a hand and touched the girl’s arm, but she winced and pulled away.
Art Gibbs stood
in the middle of the small room, seeming unsure of what to do now that he’d arrived. He twisted his hat in his hands and cleared his throat, but no words came.
Margaret drew out a chair at the table snugged near the wall and waited till he was seated, then turned to the children—although the boy didn’t seem like a child, more like a nearly grown man. He stood taller than she, with medium bone structure, brown, curly hair badly in need of cutting, holes in his boots, and stained overalls. The girl hadn’t fared much better. Her long blond hair was tangled and matted, looking as though no comb or shampoo had touched it for many a day. The dress she wore was a size too big and hung loosely on her slender frame. A scared expression marred the otherwise pretty face. It appeared that she’d tried to scrub it but had only managed to smear the dirt from one part of her face to another.
“Would you two care for some cookies and milk? There’s a dairy farm not far from here, and they bring milk to the store—and I baked sugar cookies this morning.”
The big boy nodded eagerly. “I want cookies, yes, sir.”
The girl nudged him in the side. “Yes, ma’am, Joel, not sir. She’s a lady, can’t you tell?”
Joel hung his head and scuffed a toe against the wood floor. “Sorry, Sammie.” He raised his clear blue eyes and smiled, and the sight went straight into Margaret’s heart. “Joel would like some cookies, ma’am—lady.” He turned to the girl Mr. Gibbs had called Samantha and beamed. “Did I do it right this time, Sammie?”
Samantha patted his arm and smiled. “You did fine, Joel.” Then she swung a pair of imploring eyes toward Margaret. “He does the best he can, ma’am.”
“I agree. Joel did a fine job, and I’d be pleased to give him as many cookies as he’d like. That is, if you’ve already had your dinner?”
Art Gibbs leaned forward and nodded. “Yes’m. They ate at my house. Cookies would be a right fine way to finish things off.”
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 8
