The One Who Waits for Me (10 page)

Reverend Mother paused when she rounded a corner and saw two back skirts disappearing out the front door. No one used that entrance. It was reserved for visiting guests and dignitaries.

She shook her head, certain that within the day one or two sisters would be in her office complaining that they were missing habits and wimples.

Closing her eyes, she prayed softly, “Grant these two free spirits safety, Father.”

She had no knowledge of their problem or what had brought the young women to the abbey. She only knew for certain that nothing was by accident. She glanced at the closed door, smothering a grin.

Spunk. Those two had spunk.

Laughing quietly to herself, she walked on. There was something about spunk that never failed to put a smile on her lips.

Adjusting her cumbersome wimple, Beth parted the brush and peered out. Nothing stirred in the mid-morning air. There was no sign of Bear or Walt.

Blackbirds flew overhead. Squirrels scrambled along tree limbs.

“All clear,” Beth whispered.

Stepping onto the rutted road, they both paused. “We'll only walk a short distance and then we'll go back to the thicket.” It was a daring move, but Joanie was already gasping from her allergies to the vegetation, and the heat didn't help. Once she had a breath of fresh air they would return to the woods for safer travel. From that point, Beth wasn't certain of their next move, only that for now they had to keep moving. She had no idea how far they would need to walk to reach a settlement. She had no idea if there even
was
a nearby town. She'd heard Pa speak of purchasing goods and food supplies each month at a mercantile. If they could find one of those, they could at least get a few things.

She wasn't overly fond of showing themselves in public, but between the choice of returning to a life of slavery with Walt or finding a community to get what they needed, she decided the risk for freedom was worth it.

The women walked down the road, sweating beneath the heavy black robes. How did those nuns wear these hot outfits every day? Did sweating make them godlier? Beth laughed at the thought. If that were true, picking cotton in the hot sun made her an angel!

And if there was anything she wasn't, it was an angel.

P
ierce reined up when Gray Eagle lifted a hand. The Indian's coal-black eyes assessed the road. “Women's footprints—or children.”

Dismounting and removing his hat, the captain wiped sweat from his forehead. “Could be children on their way to play in the creek.”

The scout shook his head. “Women.” He pointed to the dusty trail. “See. The hems of their dresses brush the ground.”

Pierce's eyes roamed the heavy undergrowth. “If I recall, there's an old abbey nearby. Most likely some of the sisters out for an early morning walk.”

Gray Eagle dismounted and knelt beside the dusty tracks. His fingers lightly brushed over them. “Do these sisters wear heavy boots?”

The captain shook his head. “I'm not Catholic. I don't know what they wear.”

“They don't,” Gray Eagle said. “These are our hummingbirds.”

Pierce scanned the area and replaced his hat. “Beth and Joanie were wearing boots, but they were also wearing men's clothing if you recall.” His thoughts shifted to Beth. He had a hunch that woman could change like a chameleon. Quiet women made him edgy. “We'll follow the trail a while longer. If we can't find them, then we've done what we can to help.” Leather creaked as he remounted. His patience was wearing thin. He didn't mind helping when it was needed, but these two were a little too independent.

Turning from the road and back to the thicket, Beth forged a path. Soon they came across a bubbling stream, where they dropped to their stomachs and drank their fill of the crisp, cool water. Joanie's coughs shook her frail body. Surely if Bear or Walt were close by they would hear her. The thought had no more than left her mind than she heard the sound she had been dreading—hoofbeats.

Joanie lifted her face from the creek bed.

Beth saw tears forming in her eyes.

“It's them,” her sister whispered.

The riders grew closer. This time they really would need a grizzly to help because Joanie simply didn't have the strength to outrun them. Getting to her feet, Beth's eyes searched the undergrowth. Walt and Bear might recapture them, but she intended to put a sizeable knot on each of their heads before she surrendered. “Joanie,” she whispered. “Hurry. Help me find some kind of a weapon.”

Joanie slowly got to her feet, coughing. “I can't…”

“We have to gather some large rocks. Something I can throw.”

Joanie's eyes met hers.

“Do as I say.” Beth paused, noting the pale color of her sister's cheeks. “If you're able.”

Gingerly, Joanie moved alongside her. The women worked to fashion a pile of rocks as the riders drew closer. Her uncle would likely be so angry he'd take the bull whip to her right there, but Beth didn't care. She'd make him wish he'd forgotten all about her.

Hunkered down and waiting for the best shot as the riders approached, she could only hope they hadn't already spotted the black robes and wimples, but common sense told her the wish would be as effective as spitting into the wind to put out a fire.

“I can throw,” Joanie wheezed.

“I'll do the throwing. I don't want him to have any reason to beat you too.”

“It won't matter if I throw or not.”

Beth knew she was right, but that didn't stop her from hoping to shield Joanie from another thrashing.

“Joanie,” Beth said as her pulse kicked into high gear.

“Yes?”

“If you're sure there's a God, it would be real smart to ask for a little help right now.”

Nodding, Joanie closed her eyes and Beth saw her lips move. She caught snatches of the conversation. “He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler…”

The two riders drew even with the women, and she heard them suddenly rein up. They were close, but she dared not lift her head to look at them lest they see her.

“Enough praying. Start throwing,” Beth murmured.

The women stood up and let fly.

Yells rang out as rocks found their mark.

“You may want us, but you're going to have to come get us!” Beth yelled. She threw a sizable stone that produced a substantial curse. Shame on Uncle Walt's language!

Granite ammunition flew. Men's angry shouts drew closer. Oh, they would be in for the beating of their lives, but it was worth it to hear Bear's cries of pain.

A
good-sized rock came close to grazing Pierce's temple and he flinched. The woman had already hit him in the leg and the stomach. Time to end this. He slid out of the saddle and stalked into the undergrowth. Beth let go with another rock, obviously determined to meet the enemy head-on. Turning, she grasped a handful of smaller stones, whirled blindly, and looked ready to fling them at her tormentor. Obviously, she wasn't going down without a fight.

Pierce blocked her arm midair. She paused, staring into his blue eyes. His tone puzzled her, calm as still water. “What are you doing now, Miss Beth?”

Fear, then elation, filled her face as she realized he wasn't her cousin or her uncle. She paused, allowing the thought to sink in. Her hand released the load she was clutching. The stones skipped off his boots.

“It's you!”

Gray Eagle rode up, dismounted, and pried rocks out of a wide-eyed Joanie's grasp. Her incredulous look suggested she was as surprised as anyone her prayer had been answered.

The scout wiped a trickle of blood off his forehead. His dark eyes calmly assessed the two women.

Pierce let go of her arm and turned Beth's hands palm up as if checking to make sure they were empty before he released her. “Do you care to say why you two are hiding in the bushes, dressed like nuns, and hurling rocks at people?”

Joanie started to answer but he stopped her, pointing his finger at Beth. “I want her explanation.”

Lowering her eyes, Beth refused to look at him. He'd only have harsh words for her, and rightly so.

Joanie started to answer again, but he shook his head and pointed at Beth. “Why are
you
throwing rocks at people?”

Biting her bottom lip, she figured she'd have to say something. It didn't seem wise to anger him any further. “We thought you were Bear and Uncle Walt. They took us at gunpoint from the stream and…” Her voice trailed off before she added, “A bear saved us.”

“Bear saved you.”

“Not Bear, bear.
A
bear.”

“A bear?”

“A black bear wandered into their camp and went after Uncle Walt. He took off one direction and we ran the other. That gave us the chance to escape. We thought you were Uncle Walt and Bear coming after us again.”

Shifting stances, Pierce glanced at Gray Eagle and then back to Beth. “I think we have a communication problem.”

Joanie interceded. “She doesn't like men.”

“I figured that out.” He focused on Beth. “The
truth
, please.”

Beth fixed her gaze on a passing bird. She needed to get out of this fix, no doubt about that, but if she told him the truth, she would have to tell him about running from Walt because he would make her tell him where Pa hid the deed. Not to mention that he'd force her to marry Bear. He would steal the deed for himself, and she'd be doomed to a life of picking cotton, and Joanie would be dead. Best to keep quiet about the deed and stick with the plan of her and Joanie traveling alone.

Summoning a smile, she met the captain's eyes. “We appreciate your thoughtfulness, sir, but we…we don't need your assistance from here on out. You've been helpful enough. Though we would appreciate it if you would inform Trella we've had a change of plans and won't be meeting up with her.”

Pierce's gaze skimmed their habits. “Why don't you come along and tell her yourself?”

Beth straightened her wimple, aware of his cool stare. Of course he would have questions, but she owed him no explanation.

“Do the sisters at the abbey know you're wearing their clothing?”

She refused to answer. She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

Finally Pierce sighed and turned to Joanie, who shook her head. “We planned to launder the garments and return them. And we left money to cover the losses—”

“So they don't know you're running around the countryside posing as nuns.”

“No, sir.” Joanie said, her gaze dropping. “They didn't know that we…um…borrowed their clothing. Though they may know by now.”

Beth tugged her sister's skirt, wishing she would just keep silent. “We have to go. Uncle Walt is looking for us—”

“He's not close by.”

Beth glanced at her sister. Expectancy lit Joanie's eyes. “Can you be certain?”

Gray Eagle spoke. “We've covered every inch of this area, Miss Joanie, looking for you. Most likely your uncle has given up and ridden home.”