The One Who Waits for Me (23 page)

A giggle escaped Joanie. “Methinks you protest too much.”

Beth struck a match and held it to the kindling she'd settled around the cold embers. Tinder blazed. Straightening, she said. “Methinks? What sort of language is that?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Do you deny the attraction?”

“There is no attraction.” Beth banged a skillet over two large rocks. There was no attraction. True, she was starting to trust this man too much for her own good, and she couldn't deny that if it hadn't been for him and his kindness they would still be under Uncle Walt's miserable thumb. The admission was nothing less than painful. She took a deep breath. If not for his compassion—and that of the others—Joanie would surely have died the day they ran away.

“I know Pa should have stood up for us more,” Joanie said, “and Uncle Walt and Bear are meaner than a riled bull, but maybe all men aren't the same.”

“Those are fanciful thoughts.”

“No, really, Beth.” Joanie sat up straighter. “Maybe we got a bad bunch. Ma always said to think with common sense, and common sense would say that not all men are bad.”

“Every man I've met has been.”

“Perhaps we've met the wrong ones until now.”

The fire blazed. Beth dipped a wad of grease out of the pot that sat near the fire and shook it off the spoon and into the skillet. “How many eggs?”

“Two, please.”

Beth glanced up when a shadow crossed the sun and the wind picked up again. A dark dark cloud was overhead. “Oh, dear.” She wiped her hands and mentally urged the grease to warm. “We were mistaken. The rain isn't over.”

Joanie frowned, glancing up. “Oh…” Thunderheads ballooned in the west. Her gaze pivoted back to the fire.

The wind suddenly gusted, bending small saplings midway to the ground. Sparks showered around them, going airborne from the campfire.

Beth jerked the skillet off the flame, realizing her mistake. “We have to put this fire out!”

Thunder boomed, jarring the ground. Joanie sprang to help, reaching for the water bucket. They girls were too late. Embers were already skittering and dancing across the village. Squealing, Joanie and Beth stomped madly, trying to extinguish the fiery darts on the ground before they escaped to spiral to the treetops.

Lodge doors opened, and faces peered out. Elderly men and women burst outside to join the fight, making feeble attempts to extinguish the sparks. Burning embers swirled up in the wind and then dropped down on the Council Lodge, and within minutes the building was on fire. Shouts filled the camp. The Indians quickly ran to the creek and formed a water brigade. Pails passed through hands.

After what seemed like forever, Beth glanced up to see that Mary Margaret and Reverend Mother had joined them. How long had it been since the first spark flew from the fire pit?

“We spotted the smoke and came running,” Mary Margaret confessed breathlessly. Three of the older nuns stood on the river bank filling buckets.

More tents were ablaze.

A regal-looking woman, perhaps in her eighties, stepped to the opening of a large structure, her weathered features a mask of concern. Beth hadn't seen the woman until now, but by her dress she had to be one the camp's officials. Like a woman chief or something.

Riders appeared, and Beth groaned when she realized they were Pierce and Gray Eagle. With strings of fish dangling from their saddles, they galloped in. The men slid off the horses and grabbed buckets to help fight the fires.

For more than an hour they fought to save the village. The clouds and wind finally moved on, and the sun came back out. When the last ember was stomped away, Pierce leaned against a tree to catch his breath. Beth studied his smoke-rimmed eyes and said, “You look funny.” She swiped at the thick soot covering her own cheeks.

He stared at her and then broke into laughter. “You're thinking
I
look funny?”

Giggling, she nodded. “Very funny.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.” They bent double, though the situation was anything but humorous. Two homes, the main lodge, and various tents had suffered damage all because Beth had started a cook fire.

Started a fire. She sobered suddenly as panic set in. What would the Indians do to her? Her gaze roamed the blackened ground and the sisters' soot-covered faces and singed habits. Many of the village inhabitants wore moccasins with seared soles.

She, Beth Jornigan, was responsible for all this damage.

Instinctively she stepped closer to Pierce, hoping against hope that when the source of the fire became known, this kind, patient, helpful man would save her hide.

Again.

There was no doubt about it. She was going to have to stay clear of matches.

B
eth's sudden movement toward him caused Pierce to focus on her. Smoke rose gently around them from extinguished embers. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Miss Jornigan? You haven't by any chance been near a match, have you?”

She stiffened. “I can explain…” But her words faltered when she saw an angry color now dotting his cheeks.

He stalked off, leaving her standing by herself. “You…” She caught her tongue. He couldn't walk away and not consider her side of the story! Then again, maybe he could. Prior to now he'd been the perfect gentleman, but she'd known that deep down he was a man. A very perturbed man, at the moment.

Still, she couldn't have him thinking she'd done this on purpose. Running, she caught up with him. “Pierce, I would like to explain my side of the story,” she said. “Please.”

“And that would be?”

“I did start the fire. That was foolish, but I thought the rain was over and Joanie was hungry. She didn't want cold mush; she wanted eggs—and it's so hard to get her to eat anything—so when the sun came out and the storm seemed over, I started a fire.”

“All the camp fires were out. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't think it was strange that
all
the cooking fires were out? That maybe the Indian women had a reason for that?”

“I thought of it. But then, when the clouds moved on…”

“You reached for the matches.” Pausing, his eyes skimmed her. “Do you have a thing for fire, Miss Jornigan?”

He was upset all right. He was calling her Miss Jornigan now. Her gaze skipped to his side to see if he carried anything that he could punish her with and noted his gun belt. Her eyes focused on the sidearm.

When his gaze traced hers, he shifted. “I'm not going to shoot you, Beth.” Shaking his head, he said softly, “I'd like to get my hands on the men who have made you terrified of my gender.”

She met his steady gaze. Gender. Had he insulted her? She wasn't familiar with the fancy word. She glanced to the lodge, seeking Joanie.

“Men,” he clarified, as if reading her thoughts.

“Why didn't you just say so?”

He turned and walked on but she dogged his steps. “I understand why you're angry, but I honestly didn't mean to burn the village.”

“Or your uncle's cotton fields?”

“Or the cotton fields.” She winced. He must think she didn't have the good sense God gave a goose. God. If she were a praying person, this would be the ideal time to have a talk with the Almighty. She sure wasn't winning points with the captain. “I know what I did was reckless, and I will apologize to that woman who looked so worried.”

“That lady,” he said, “has the real power over the village.”

“How so? I thought the chief—”

“Don't kid yourself. Cherokee women rule the home. And they fight like warriors. Actually—” He paused to adjust his hat. “They own the homes. That's part of the marriage contract. This particular woman, White Bird, comes from the Blue Clan—wait a minute. Don't change the subject! You are going to apologize not only to White Bird, but also to the chief and the villagers.”

She stopped in her tracks. Would the Indians accept her apology and forgive her? Or would they be so angry that they would make her and Joanie and Trella and Esther leave? Beth put her face in her hands. What had she done? How could she have endangered the safety of her sister and friends so recklessly, not to mention the homes of the Indians who had so kindly taken them in?

In her sorrow for her actions she almost forgot that Pierce was standing next to her. Then she felt his hands on hers, lowering them so he could look in her face. He seemed to be over his anger. “I'll stand next to you while you speak to the village.”

“You will?”

“I will.” His eyes met hers. “You're not going to fight me on the apology?”

“No. I'm in the wrong and I admit it.” She turned to walk away but not before she saw his grin.

Cad.

Half an hour later, Beth cleared her throat. Her eyes lifted to meet the crowd before her and then focused on White Bird. “I am truly sorry for starting the fire. It was a mistake. I was just trying to—” She stopped. It didn't matter that she was only trying to feed her sister. These people didn't deserve excuses. Her eyes sought Pierce's, seeking strength from his nearness, and then she went on. “I deeply regret that I've burned part of your camp.”

Disgruntled voices rose in the crowd. Faded eyes pinned her before people began turning away. As Beth watched them leave, she asked Pierce, “What more can I do?”

He shook his head, not looking very happy himself. “Nothing but try to fix the problem.” He sighed deeply. “You do realize that this is going to delay us even longer. We can't burn down these folks' homes and walk away without doing a thing to help them rebuild.”

“It was a
mistake
.” Hadn't Mr. Perfect ever made a mistake?

“My point is that we can't leave. We have to stay and help rebuild.”

Her features fell. “How much longer?”

Pierce looked over the smoldering ruins. “As long as it takes, Beth. A week, maybe two.”

A relieved sigh escaped her. “A week or two. That's not so bad.” The hindrance would mean that Joanie was still one to two weeks away from seeing a doctor, but her cough was better. And another week or two would give Esther a definite advantage.

Gray Eagle approached after talking to White Bird and the chief. His grim features told the gravity of the situation. “The woman may continue to stay.”

“Tell the chief we will stay as well and help rebuild,” Pierce said.

“I already have. He is pleased.” The scout's dark gaze focused on Beth. “Is Joanie all right?”

“She's fine. She's with Trella and the baby in the nursing tent.”

Gray Eagle turned to the captain. “May I have a word with you?”

Nodding, Pierce stepped to the side to join him.

“The fire was an accident. The delay in moving on is frustrating, but Beth is sick at heart about her actions,” Pierce said. “Joanie wanted eggs.”

“I get that she wanted to provide food for her sister, but no Cherokee in camp would have allowed a fire during a storm.”