Path of Freedom: Quilts of Love Series

by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  “Thee does spend too much time alone with him,” Bruce mumbled. He clenched his teeth, wishing he could say what he wanted to say without sounding jealous or making it seem as if he was being critical.

  “We went nowhere that was improper.” She removed her hand from his arm and folded them under her cloak. “We were always within view of someone, mostly thee.” She emphasized the last word.

  Not wishing to argue, Bruce dropped the subject, certain anything he said on the matter would serve only to infuriate her further. They traveled through the night; the horse's labored breathing grew heavier as they climbed into the hills toward the mountains.

  Irene fell asleep on Flora, and eventually Flora's head fell against Bruce's shoulder. He reached his arm around her, holding her close against his side. His throat ached. This was where she belonged. A chill slid up his spine. How could he make her see reason? Whatever he did, he had only a few weeks to convince her to change her mind about Clint Roberts.

  Flora placed an arm around Irene's shaking shoulders and tried to comfort her as the bobcat continued screaming in the distance. The fire put out a bit of heat, but the higher elevation meant colder weather. Across from them, Jim comforted Marta as they waited for Bruce to return.

  Cold fear clutched Flora's heart as she worried for his safety. He had gone hunting, claiming that it was high time they had some meat and that Marta needed the nourishment as she continued to recover. It had been three days since they'd left her aunt's house. Their water was frozen each morning and they had to melt it by the fire before they could boil water and make coffee.

  The sound of gunfire caused her to jerk. Irene whimpered. “What if he misses the cat? Couldn't it kill Bruce?”

  “Don't think like that.” Flora rubbed her sister's arm. It was bad enough that a similar thought had struck her.

  “I'm could go after him,” Jim offered. “I fought a black bear once.”

  “No, Jim.” Flora shook her head. If Bruce was all right, he would yell at her for putting Jim in danger. She swallowed, listening for more noise. Several minutes passed before they heard another gunshot. It echoed through the forest, plowing at her already taut nerves.

  “We should pray,” Marta whispered. “Lord, please protect Mister Bruce. Keep him safe. Bring him back unharmed. We know you have all the power, in Jesus' name, amen.”

  Flora gazed at Marta, the fire casting a brilliant glow on her dark skin and hazel eyes. There were times when she seemed well beyond her years. The way she had grieved for her son and turned to the Lord for comfort had earned Flora's respect. This girl was only fifteen, and yet she had proven to be so full of wisdom—and strength. Flora marveled at her ability to overcome such heartache without letting bitterness take root or giving in to the temptation to blame God.

  “I should have suggested praying,” Flora said, looking into the dancing flames.

  “Yous can't think of everything,” Marta said.

  The bobcat squealed again. Flora closed her eyes. Bruce hadn't killed the animal. They waited, but no further gunshots sounded. What if there were more than one bobcat? Why hadn't she thought of that before? Bruce was all alone. How could he manage more than one?

  She shivered.

  “What's wrong?” Irene glanced sideways.

  “How much time has passed since the last gunshot?” Flora asked.

  “I don't know. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.” Irene sat back. “What is thee thinking?”

  Bruce's voice came to mind when she'd first discovered his trunk of weapons. “I wouldn't fight for myself, but to protect thee, I would.” How could she be willing to do anything less for him? An instinctive resolve swelled in her chest as she lifted her chin in determination.

  “Bruce is alone. If he's injured, someone must help him.” Flora stood up from the log and went to the wagon. She searched for Bruce's trunk with the weapons.

  “Flora, no. Thee can't do this. He'll come back. Wait and see.” Irene followed her. “It's too dangerous.”

  “She's right. I'm going,” Jim said at the door flap.

  “No. Jim, thee must stay here and protect Marta and Irene.” She turned and threw a rifle into his hands. “Does thee know how to use this?”

  “Naw.” He shook his head. “My master never allowed us around guns afore.” He turned it over, examining it closely, wrinkling his eyebrows.

  “I'll show thee.” Flora grabbed a small handgun. She pulled back the chamber and loaded it, then set the safety lock. Grabbing another oil lamp, she pulled her arm free from Irene. “My dad showed me this for protection against wild animals such as this bobcat. We have lots of them at home.”

  “Thee can't do this!” Irene said.

  “I have to. I won't leave Bruce out there alone. I could never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him while we sit around this camp fire waiting.” Flora grabbed Irene's shoulder. “I realize this is hard for thee, but I need thee to be strong. Dry thy tears and stay here with Marta and Jim.”

  “I'm sorry.” Irene sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “I'm not as brave as thee. I love thee.” Irene hugged her. Flora swallowed hard and embraced her sister.

  Outside the wagon, Flora showed Jim how to load the rifle, the safety lock, and how to hold the gun, aim, and pull the trigger. “Jim, don't be afraid. Use this to save thyselves. There may be a family of bobcats out there nearby.” Flora touched his arm. “Remember, when thee shoots, the rifle will kick back into thy shoulder. Just make sure thee sees thy target so thee won't mistake the cat for Bruce and I.”

  “I'll do my best, Miz Flora.” He nodded. “Yous be safe.” He patted her shoulder.

  “I will.” Flora lit her lamp, took her gun in hand, and set out in the direction of Bruce's last gunshot.

  “I'll pray for yous, Miz Flora,” Marta called after her.

  Flora didn't respond as she stepped into the black night. The gun in her hand was cold. Fear coiled in her stomach, reaching up and clutching the back of her throat.

  “Lord, please protect us, and lead me to Bruce. If he's hurt, show me what to do.” The whispered prayer blew smoke in the lantern light. She trembled from a combination of cold and consuming fear as she crept forward into the unknown.

  A howling wind swept the tree branches, swaying them around her. She listened, hoping for some sign that Bruce was alive and fine. The lamp only gave enough light for a few feet ahead of her. She had to watch her footing as she came to a fallen branch and stepped over it with care. Her skirt caught on something. Holding the gun away from her body, she reached down with the same hand and tugged her skirt loose.

  Just as it gave way, a nearby sound caught her attention. Flora's heart hammered against her ribs as her breath left her in icy fear, freezing her voice to silence. She lifted the lantern, peering through the night.

  “Flora! Woman, what is thee doing out here?” Bruce demanded a short distance away.

  “I…I was worried for thee.” Relief filled her, and she nearly collapsed in a puddle.

  More grumbling followed that she couldn't decipher until he had reached her side. “Worried for me?” He rubbed his face as he looked down. “Thee will be the death of me before it's over.”

  “Don't say that.” Anguish released in her voice. “I couldn't stand the thought of thee being out here all alone and wounded, if that bobcat got to thee.”

  “Shush.” He placed a cold finger her over mouth. “Let's not draw attention to the cat. I left her a prize back there so she'll leave us in peace.” His knuckles brushed her chin. “Did thee really worry for me?”

  “Yes, but now I'm wondering if I should have bothered.” No point in hiding her exasperation. Bruce vexed her when he wasn't busy confusing her.

  “I'm thankful for thy concern, but extremely angered that thee would put thyself at risk.” He leaned toward her ear, his warm breath fanning her neck. It was enough to make her shiver as a strange warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach. “How would thee have helped me?”

&nb
sp; “I brought this for protection.” She held up the gun. “I would have figured out something.”

  “Thee brought a gun?” Alarmed surprise changed his tone. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Flora, thy courage and instinct never cease to amaze me. Thy future husband will have his hands quite full. I've no doubt of that.” He held out his hand. “Give me the gun.”

  Trying to interpret his words, she hesitated. “Thee sounds as if thee feels sorry for my intended.”

  “Hand it over…now, Flora.”

  With a sigh, she plopped it into his hand. “Judge me if thee will, but I had good intentions—even if they were for thee.”

  “Intended? Is thee engaged to that man?” He raised his voice, his tone harsher than she expected. Whatever happened to not attracting the bobcat's attention?

  Bruce ushered Flora back to their campsite. Irene burst into tears of gratitude and hugged her sister. Jim and Marta both stood with relieved smiles.

  “We're so glad you okay, Mister Bruce.” Marta wrung her hands as Jim nodded beside her.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He motioned for Jim to join him on the other side of the wagon. He glanced over to make sure Flora was occupied with Irene and Marta. “Could thee have not stopped Flora from making such a fool mistake as going out there in the dark woods with a bobcat prowling on the loose?”

  “We tried to convince her not to go, but she's mighty stubborn.” Jim scratched his neck. “I'm not used to arguing with a white lady. Where I come from, I could be hanged.”

  “True.” Bruce rubbed his eyebrows, still in distress. “She can be the most stubborn woman I've ever known. I guess I've got to have a talk with her—and risk her wrath.”

  “Maybe it could wait when yous both calm down?” Jim scratched the back of his neck again and shifted from foot to foot.

  “Jim, I'm not upset or disappointed with thee. I can't expect thee to control Flora if I've never been able to manage her.”

  “Uh, sir?” Jim's gaze slid over Bruce's shoulder.

  “What does thee mean, can't control Flora?” a female voice demanded.

  Bruce tensed. His skin crawled with tiny needles pricking him, traveling down his neck and shoulders. He pivoted on his heel, knowing he couldn't avoid her anger now. She stood with her hands on her hips, her hair cascading around her shoulders without a bonnet. Where was her bonnet? Didn't she know that all that hair distracted a man? His gaze followed the length of her long tresses.

  “Explain thyself.” She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her toes. Her lips protruded in a less-than-flattering frown.

  “Flora, we both know that thee should have never come after me in those woods, especially knowing there's a wild bobcat on the loose nearby.” He clenched his hands at his sides and met her gaze, unwilling to back down this time. When he thought about what could have happened to her, his chest spasmed.

  “And if the bobcat had gotten thee, how would we have known?” She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “It was a risk I was willing to take.” She pronounced each syllable with clarity and determination.

  “It was unnecessary and foolhardy.” His fast-beating heart pulsed with even greater intensity as his anger heightened. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake good reason into her, but he refrained. Flora wasn't the sort of woman he could intimidate with threats or force. Such action would only fuel her fury. The only thing he knew to do was be forthright.

  “How dare thee!” Flora leaned forward and poked him in the chest. His black coat took the brunt of her pointed finger. “I was worried sick for thee, but now I'm sorry I even gave thee a single thought.”

  The sizzling anger in him eased as her words penetrated his mind. A flutter of hope took root, causing his heart to beat faster. The situation struck him as ironic. Here they were angry at each other and arguing because each was worried about the other. He hid a grin as he rubbed his jaw. “I think I'm beginning to understand.”

  “Bruce, I'm not some animal thee can tame into submission,” she blurted as if she hadn't heard him. Her nostrils flared as she took another deep breath to continue her tirade. “God gave me a mind of my own and the same free will as thee, and I intend to use it.” She tilted her face toward him, now only a few inches away. “I will never be controlled by another.”

  “I, of all people, know that very well.” He kept his voice low as he rejoiced in Flora's passionate spirit. It was one of the very things he loved about her. She ignited his senses, heightening a desire for her he'd been trying to fight for the last couple of years. Flora was everything he wanted in the woman who would stand through life by his side.

  “Then why provoke me?” She tilted her head to the side and blinked up at him.

  “It isn't my desire to provoke thee, and I'm sorry. All I want is to protect thee. I can't do my job in leading this mission if I've got to stop and worry about what danger thee might be putting thyself into. I need to know I can trust thy judgment.”

  “Thee really believes I'm foolish.” She blinked as unshed tears floated in her wide eyes. “Thee called me foolhardy at the general store back in Greensboro and again just a few minutes ago.” The tone of her voice lost its edge.

  “That's not true.” Remorse shot through his veins, pumping his blood even harder. He rubbed his eyebrows and glanced down at his feet before looking back up. “Why does thee always twist my words? That isn't what I meant. I don't believe thee is foolish, only what thee did.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but her lower lip trembled and her words stalled. He waited, but she shook her head and stepped back. A sick feeling burrowed in his gut. He reached for her arm, but she jerked away.

  “Don't touch me!”

  “Flora, don't turn this into something it isn't. I've never thought as much of a woman as I do thee.”

  She shrank back and twisted her mouth in disgust. “Then thee must not think very highly of any woman. I truly feel sorry for the woman who will one day become thy wife. She will need a heart of steel and the confidence of a saint. As for me, I thank God he brought Clint Roberts into my life. Not once has he made me feel two inches tall, as thee has.”

  “He's not perfect either. I'm sure he'll say something to upset thee once he's spent enough time in thy company.” He stepped forward and lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear. “And don't ever compare me to him.”

  He leaned forward, his lips inches from hers. The scent of cedar drifted to him, and the warmth of her body being so near filled his senses with longing. If she intended to compare him with some other man, he would give her something she wouldn't soon forget.

  Bruce closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. Flora's resistance crumbled in surprise as a small gasp rose in her throat. Rather than backing away or slapping him, she kissed him back with the same fervor. He had intended to leave Flora with a lasting impression, but the woman had managed to turn his own lesson against him.

  Breaking away to clear his dazed mind, Bruce breathed in cold air, allowing it to slice into his lungs like ice. It gave him the awakening jolt he needed. For once, he wanted to have the last word as he glanced at Flora with her similar dazed expression. She touched a pale hand to her chest.

  “I want thee to remember that the next time thee is tempted to compare me with the likes of Clint Roberts.” Bruce turned on his heel and strode away.

  13

  Flora stormed away from Bruce, her heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears. She bumped into Jim as she rounded the corner of the wagon.

  “I'm sorry.” She stepped back, dazed and disoriented.

  “It's okay, Miz Flora.” He looked down at his feet, unable to meet her gaze after overhearing her argument with Bruce.

  “Flora, what was all that about?” Irene whispered, pulling her cloak tight as she left the warmth of the fire. “I haven't heard thee and Bruce argue like that in a while.”

  “Well, some things never change.” Flora wiped her eyes,
angry that Bruce still had the power to drive her to tears after all this time. She touched her lips, still tingling from his kiss. The man baffled her. If he disliked her so much, why kiss her—twice?

  “Miz Flora, may I say something?” Marta approached her.

  Pausing, Flora turned to her friend with a nod. As much as Marta had endured on this trip, the least Flora could do was listen.

  “I know it ain't none o’ my business, but you have a longtime relationship with Mister Bruce, and a friendship like that is worth keeping.” Marta twisted her hands in front of her and tears filled her eyes. “Yous folks have so many chances to love and spend time with each other. We risking our lives to have what yous got. Don't take it for granted. People can be ‘ere one moment and gone the next, like my little Jimmy.”

  Marta's voice broke on her son's name. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to swallow. Compassion swelled in Flora, convicting her of pride and some of the things she'd said to Bruce. How did he always manage to make her behave at her worst?

  “Marta, don't worry. Bruce and I will be fine. This is the only kind of friendship we've ever had.” She touched Marta's arm and offered a wry smile. “Just because we've known each other all these years doesn't mean we're true friends. It isn't the same as thee and Jim.”

  “Naw.” Marta shook her head and glanced over at Jim with so much love in her tender expression that envy spiked inside Flora. “But I'm praying yous will. There's nothing like it in all the world.”

  “Maybe one day…” Flora couldn't keep her heavy thoughts from her voice. She doubted Bruce Millikan would ever find her suitable enough for what Marta alluded to, but perhaps Clint Roberts would. He didn't think her so lacking.

  “Indeed, a love like thee and Jim have would be divine.” Irene sighed as she gazed up at the tree branches and placed her hand over her heart. Her dreamy expression brought a reluctant smile to Flora.