The One Who Waits for Me (20 page)

The village had settled down for the night. Smoke curled lazily from the low-burning cooking fires. Overhead, a summer storm drew close. Lightning illuminated the building thunderheads. Pausing before the chief's dwelling, Gray Eagle gathered his thoughts. A woman standing by the entrance turned to greet him. Gray Eagle asked to speak to the chief.

Moments later the old man appeared. When Gray Eagle spoke in his native language, the chief stepped out of the house and the two men walked to the river.

“The coming rain will be good for the corn,” the chief said.

“Yes. It has been dry this year.”

“You speak your mother's tongue.” The chief's observation was not a question. Gray Eagle had visited the village many times in his youth. His great-grandmother had lived among this tribe.

Smiling, the younger Indian said, “I am the son of Walks-with-Sun.”

“Yes, I remember your mother. She was good woman.”

“I have come to make a request of you.”

“Speak.”

“The young woman, Joanie?”

“The Coughing One.” Already the women of the tribe had given Joanie a name.

“She is very ill. May I take her to the river?”

The chief's faded eyes focused on the stream next to them.

“Not this river,” Gray Eagle said when he saw the direction the chief's eyes had taken. “The Healing River.”

The chief remained fixed on the path. “You ask a great favor.”

“I would be deeply grateful if you would consider my request.”

The men walked in companionable silence. Overhead, night birds called to one another as the storm moved closer. “It is peaceful here,” the chief observed.

“I find great harmony in this place,” Gray Eagle admitted.

“You have fought in the war?”

“Yes.”

“And you have won?”

“No. The North won.”

The older man glanced over and a smile surfaced. “But you gave them a good fight.”

“The best I had.”

“Perhaps you knew my good friend, Stand Watie? His Indian name is Takertawker. Do you know the meaning?”

“Stand!” Gray Eagle broke into a grin. “We fought together at Bird Creek. I believe the name means to stand firm, immovable.” Stand was immovable all right, and more. He had been ready to support his convictions at any cost.

“My good friend is a most honorable man,” the chief said. “We met as young men. He came with family to the new territory many years ago.”

“Some say he was the only Indian to garner the rank of brigadier general,” Gray Eagle said. “Others say Ely Parker, a Seneca, also shared that great accomplishment.”

The chief appeared lost in memory. “My friend Stand grows old and gray, like me.”

“He has a lot of fight left in him still.” Gray Eagle glanced over. “As I am certain you do as well.”

“Not so much anymore. Time is a ruthless thief.” He smiled. “Your mother would take pride in you.”

Gray Eagle recalled the quiet woman who had loved and raised him in the community of his father's people. “It is my wish to make her proud.”

“You have not taken wives?”

“Haven't had the time. I've been too busy on the war front. I think I'll follow my mother's ways and take only one wife. It seems to me that the more wives a man has, the more headaches as well.”

The chief's laughter boomed. Gray Eagle smiled with him.

Finally the chief said, “Your father, Dark Horse, was also a great warrior. He made the Cherokee stand tall against the enemy.”

They walked on as thunder rumbled in the distance, two tall men, regal in their heritage. Gray Eagle's loose black hair blew in the wind.

The chief said, “This request you ask of me. The woman means much to you?”

“I barely know her, but I have…” He paused to consider. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “My heart takes great pity on her. I would like to help ease her pain. I fear that she will pass if she doesn't get help.”

“To pass to the great beyond would not be a bad thing.”

“No, not bad, but she is tender and young. My hope is that she will have many more days and years on this earth.”

The chief crossed his arms over his chest as he stopped walking. He turned his proud profile toward the thunderheads, deep in thought. After a few moments he said, “Your request is granted.”

Relief filled Gray Eagle. “Your mercy will not be forgotten.”

The chief's tone sobered. “The Great Spirit has given the red man this river.”

“The water is healing.”

Again, the wise smile appeared. “Only the Great Spirit heals. It is true that this river and its hot springs bring much relief to those who experience it, but the river itself holds no power.”

Only this small tribe knew of the hot springs' existence. Gray Eagle's mother had told him the legend many long years ago when she was dying. The springs had not helped her illness. A mighty Cherokee warrior had come across the hot bubbling waters spouting from the ground. His favorite wife, one whom he loved beyond all others, had been very ill. The couple lingered at the fascinating pools. Later, she pleaded to remain there, to soak every day in the strengthening water until she was healed. Her husband eventually built a village close by. The secret remained in the tribe for many years. No outsider soaked in the pools without the chief's permission.

Turning, the chief extended his hand. Gray Eagle removed his knife from its sheath and sliced a piece of skin off the end of his thumb. Bright red blood flowed. Handing the knife to the chief, he did the same. The two men touched thumbs, blood mingling.

The bond was sealed.

I
n the stillness of the quiet evening, Preach cradled the light bundle in his arms. Trella's infant was beautiful, with glossy black hair, olive skin, and dark soulful eyes. It had now been almost a week since she came into the world, and still she remained nameless. Just a tiny bundle of lungs and black hair. “She sure is something, Trella.”

The proud mother sat on the pallet, her eyes fastened to her child. “She's precious. A true gift from the Almighty.”

Preach cooed at the baby and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. It might have just been from a gas bubble, but the sight of it warmed his heart. He sighed contentedly at the babe before he handed her back and then took a seat beside the mother. The sweet sound of laughter on the far side of the camp drew their attention. “I'd have never thought the red man had so much good in him,” Preach mused.

“Why? Have you fought the Indians?”

“Fought beside 'em. There's good and bad among them all, but I figure they have a beef.” The hue of his eyes darkened. “The white man took the red man's land. He found more. The white man took his food. He grew more. The white man took his pride. He developed integrity.” His gaze lifted to meet hers, measuring her. He changed the subject. “I've been thinking, Trella. You haven't mentioned your baby's father.” His eyes skimmed the infant, and he decided the child was more black than white. “Is he looking for you?”

She shook her head. “I…I don't know who the baby's father is.”

Preach quickly averted his gaze. The personal nature of her answer was too abrupt. He barely knew her, but the haunted look in her eyes had him wondering.

“I'm not a loose woman, Preach.”

“No, ma'am.” The thought hadn't entered his mind. He knew too well how it worked on the plantations. She was scared. It didn't take much speculation to identify her fear.

“I don't know the baby's father because…Walt Jornigan passes his help…” Her guarded tone became angry. “We're passed around like candy at Christmastime.”

“Trella…” The winsome young woman wasn't many years from the innocence of childhood, and he felt his protective nature surge. If Jornigan were here right now…“I'm deeply sorry to hear that. You did the right thing by running away.”

Moisture filled her eyes. “I'm not a good person, Preach. Not like you. I hate Walt Jornigan, and the Good Book tells us not to hate.”

“The Book tells us not to hold hate in our hearts,” he agreed. “But the good Lord was human in all ways, and He understands our feelings. He don't intend for us to let our emotions eat us alive.” He managed a smile. “You're free of Walt and Bear Jornigan now. The past is behind you.” She was young and strong, and she was free now to make a new life for herself and the child.

Sighing, she toyed with the light woven blanket shielding the baby from a soft breeze. “I'm not gettin' my hopes up. He'll find me. He won't let his women workers get away.”

“He won't find you. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He didn't have much say, but he knew Pierce and Gray Eagle would hold fast. They wouldn't allow harm to befall the Jornigan women, and he would do everything in his power to keep Trella safe.

Glancing up, she asked, “Are you married?”

“No, ma'am. I signed up to fight when I was twenty-one. Haven't had time since then for a wife and kiddies, but now that I'm going home, I'm getting a longing to settle down.” A wide smile lit his face. “I want to take over my papa's flock. He's a man of the cloth, but he's getting older. What about you? You won't stay with the other women once you reach the town, will you? Do you have kin elsewhere?”

Lifting a thin shoulder, she said quietly. “I lost both Ma and Pa and my grandparents when I was twelve. I was purchased by Walt shortly afterward. I've picked his cotton and done his bidding every miserable day of my life since then.” She released another long sigh. “But I want more for my baby. When I heard Beth and Joanie planning to make a break, I begged them to let me go with them.”

“That right?” The girl had a scrappy side to her, but she didn't seem bitter.

“Every woman we left behind was desperate, Preach. Have you ever been desperate?”

“No,” he admitted. “Can't say that I have. I had a good upbringing. My pa pastors a small white community. The town always treated us like one of their own.”

Her gaze grew warm and sweet. “You were one of their own.”

“True, but black people aren't always treated that way.” His gaze followed an Indian woman who walked by, carrying a large basket of freshly picked berries.

“You seem young for a preacher.”

“Well, truthfully, I've never known a time when I didn't know the Lord. Pa saw that his kids understood the Almighty's love and grace for every soul.” He chuckled. “Maybe there were a few times when I didn't serve Him like I should have, but I've always known His presence. Carried me and thousands of others through this war. Pa and Ma are slowing down. Figure I'll take over the pulpit, and they can set back and rest a spell.”

“That's a wonderful thought.” A moment passed. She fussed with the blanket. “Preach…” she finally said, hesitating.

His gaze returned to meet hers. “Yes, ma'am?”

“I haven't named my baby.”

“I'd noticed. Is there a reason?”

“I can't think of a good, strong name to give her. I want her to be different than me. I want her to be able to hold her head up with pride and be a fine lady.”

Gazing at the infant, Preach tried to imagine the child grown, dressed in beautiful clothing. The woman he saw looked a whole lot like her ma—lovely bone structure, warm eyes. Though Trella had been mistreated, she was still a mighty fine-looking female.

“Would you help me?” she asked.

He glanced up. “Name your baby?”

“Yes, sir. I figure a man like you—a man with spiritual goodness—would know what to call her.”

“I've never thought about naming a child,” he admitted. He gazed at the sleeping infant and the name Esther came to mind. She was an upstanding example of a godly woman in the Bible. “Esther.”

“Esther? Are you speaking of Queen Esther in the Bible? The woman King Ahasuerus chose for his wife?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He gazed at the infant. “This one's a queen if I ever saw one.” He gave a firm nod. “If she were my child, I'd name her Esther.”

Trella studied the child, her eyes gently taking in every inch of the bundle. “Esther. That is a nice name.”

“What's your middle name?” Preach asked.

Biting her lip, she gave the question thought and then said, “I don't have one—leastways one I can recall.” She paused, meeting his concerned gaze. “Do you believe in miracles, Preach?”

“Yes, ma'am. Can't say I ever witnessed a full-blown one, but I believe God can act if and when He wants.”

Her head bobbed. “Me too. I prayed day and night that someone would rescue me. I never lost faith that one day the good Lord would answer my prayer.”