The One Who Waits for Me (25 page)

Pierce's features tightened, his eyes registering disbelief. “And the folks who owned Tall Oaks? The slaves and workers?”

Shrugging, the man said, “What can I say? When I rode through there was nothing left but ashes. The whole area is a ghost town. A feller I passed on the road said the Union army burnt everything to the ground a couple of weeks before the war ended.”

“The plantation owners…you're certain the owners didn't survive?”

The man shook his head. “Gone. You have to hold your nose to ride through the area. It's a pitiful sight.”

Preach reached over and laid a steadying hand on Pierce's shoulder. “Sorry, Captain.”

Beth felt as though her heart were coming out of her chest. Pierce's folks were gone. Pain as real as the agony she felt when Pa and Ma died filled her.

“Are you certain? Tall Oak Plantation. Around fifty miles from here. Two thousand acres of cotton.”

The stranger's Adam's apple bobbed as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He nodded. “Certain. Did you know the folks?”

“They were my family.”

“I'm shore sorry. This war's been a thorn in every side.”

No longer able to hold back, Beth walked up to the men and took Pierce's hand. He squeezed hers reassuringly, and she bit back her tears. It must be awful for a man to not be able to cry when his heart was broken.

“Did anyone mention my sister? She's smart. It would take more than a few Northerners to take her down,” Pierce said.

The stranger's brow furrowed. “Truth be I did hear mention of your sister. They said she put up a whale of a fight. You'd have been proud of her.”

Beth felt the captain sway. “Pierce—” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Can I get you some water?”

Instead of responding he inhaled deeply and then faced the man. “Thanks. I appreciate your telling me.”

“Sorry to have to bring you such bad news. Nothing but scorched land there now. If you were headin' that way you might as well turn around. That's a sight no man should witness.” He waved at the Indian woman who had brought his water. “Much obliged for the drink. I have more ground to cover before the day's over.”

Grim-faced, Pierce nodded. “God go with you.”

Touching his forefinger to his hat brim, the stranger turned his horse and rode out of the camp.

Letting go of Beth's hand, Pierce turned and walked away. She hurried after him and fell into step beside him. He seemed to be heading for a place downstream. In the midst of God's creation—soft green grass, low-flying birds, and the scent of honeysuckle filling the air—worry and pain went missing there.

“Don't you have something better to do?”

Taken aback by his curt question, she momentarily lagged behind. She knew he would need privacy. Men didn't openly grieve if they could prevent it. Yet she longed to comfort him.

Still trailing behind him, she tried to match his long strides. Angry strides. And why wouldn't he be angry? He'd fought for the Union and risked his life to preserve the North's beliefs, only to find out that Union soldiers had slaughtered his family. The thought would make anyone mad.

They approached a peaceful clearing, and Pierce paused. She caught up, standing still as a mouse, not sure what to say to him.

“Pierce,” she said softly after a few moments. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how to grieve herself. She'd loved Ma and Pa and their death had hurt, but she was able to go on, and that was when she didn't even believe there might be a God to console—not then. Maybe not even now, but the past few days she'd run into a whole lot of people who put stock in the claim of a higher source. She'd plied Sister Mary Margaret with questions and the nun hadn't been put off by her doubts. Rather, she seemed to welcome the conversations, offering kindness right alongside her wisdom. It came easier now to believe there could be a God, a God who actually cared about people. About her. She might not have paradise here on earth, but according to Sister Mary Margaret, life was a short journey on the way to an eternal place, where there would be no more sorrow, death, or suffering.

She clung to the thought as she wrapped her hands around the captain's arm. “If you want to cry, I'll understand.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “I don't want to cry. I want to shoot someone.”

Beth stepped back, her hands dropping away from him.

“I said I want to shoot someone.” He turned to face her. “And that makes me real mad, Beth.”

“Why? I thought you wanted peace. You said you're weary of war—”

“That's what I want,” he interrupted. “Deep down that's what I want, but right now…” His face turned red, and he sat down roughly and raked his hands through his hair.

Grief was making him talk crazy. “I understand,” she soothed. “When a person's had all they can take, they want to reach out and hurt someone. I know that feelin' well.”

“You don't understand.”

“I do.” She paused and their eyes locked. “I understand hatred.”

“Beth.”

“Please.” She took a hesitant step toward him. “At first I was afraid of you—even despised you—but you have proven to be a…a decent man.”

It surprised her to realize that sometime in these past hectic days his friendship, and his feelings, had become important to her.

For the first time in her life she liked a man. A man who had lost everything important to him.

Reaching out, he drew her down to him and held her tightly. She rested against the solid wall of muscle, her head tucked under his chin, grieving with him. After a long while, she blinked. “Pierce.”

“What.”

“What…are we doing?”

“We're thinking. In silence.”

“But—”

His hold tightened. “Complete silence.”

So they thought. In silence. For an extra long time it seemed. Beth wound her arms around him, hugging him and praying,
God, help him to be able to endure this loss
.

Eventually, his hold loosened and he held her away from his chest, facing her. “Beth.”

“Yes?” She gazed into his eyes, eyes she could drown in if he permitted.

“Thank you for your compassion.”

Nodding, she said softly, “I'm so sorry about your family.”

“So am I, but not for the same reasons.”

Her head tilted questioningly.

“I don't have a sister, Beth.”

Her features crumpled. “Oh, Pierce. I know how you feel. If I lost Joanie—”

“No.” He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him. “I don't
have
a sister. I never did. That man was lying.”

A soft gasp escaped her. “Lying!”

“Lying. Someone must have paid him to ride in here and feed me a wild story. Walt's or Bear's work, no doubt.”

“How could they be so low?” She knew the answer before the words came out of her mouth. Neither man was known for integrity.

“They want us to ride away and leave you and Joanie here.”

Beth was still trying to digest the news that the man had lied. He'd been
so
convincing. “That's…awful.” Her temper surfaced as realization fell. “That's deplorable! And so like Uncle Walt.”

She was going to get up and march away when he caught her arm. “Hold on. Where do you think you're going?”

“To find Uncle Walt and Bear and put a stop to this right now!”

The steel band clamped tighter. “No, you're not.”

“I am! He can't do this to good people. I…I won't permit it.”

“What are you going to do? Surrender to him?”

The notion stopped her cold.

“Think about it, Beth. If you play into his hands, you'll be giving away everything you've worked for—your self-respect and your sister's health. Not to mention the deed to the plantation.” His eyes met hers. “Are you willing to do that?”

“No. I can't surrender.” They had come too far and risked too much. Joanie was getting better every day. Beth didn't know if prayer was doing the job or if it was simply being out of a home that brought only pain and misery.

He looked to be deep in thought. She felt terrible. She had brought all this on him.

“Pierce, what else can I do? I can't let Walt destroy innocent lives because of me. I have no other choice but to go with him. He'll let Joanie stay here if I agree to tell him where the deed is hidden. I don't want the plantation. It holds nothing but memories of misery and hurt for Joanie and me. I have my own plot of land if I can ever get there.”

Pierce tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and just looked at her thoughtfully.

“I'll do what you want if you'll help me keep Joanie out of Walt's hands.”

“What about you?”

Resigned, she sighed. “I guess I've always known that I'd pick Walt's cotton for the rest of my life.”

“What about Bear?”

“Walt will make me marry him.”

Shaking his head, he put his hat back on his head and stood. He held out his hand to help her up. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

As she took his hand and came to her feet, hope surged—and then just as quickly deflated. “That's the problem. You don't have anything to say about it.”

L
ate the next morning, Beth packed a lunch for four and went in search of Joanie. She found her in the nursing tent with Trella, whom she embraced warmly. “I've seen so little of you since we arrived!” Beth exclaimed.

“I know, and I'm sorry.” Trella glanced at her sleeping daughter, who was lying on a soft pallet near the fire. “Esther takes so much time.”

Beth stepped over to admire the child. She'd lost her earlier redness, and now her skin was a lovely, healthy-looking hue. “She looks mighty satisfied.”

“She is well fed.” Trella smiled at the Indian woman who sat alongside her. “Awinita is like a second mother.”

Joanie sat next to the fire, peeling potatoes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working in Sister Mary Margaret's garden.”

“I was earlier, but I thought you might like to have lunch together.”

Shaking her head, Joanie said, “Thank you, but I'll stay and visit with Awinita. Did you know her name means ‘fawn'?”

Beth smiled. “I didn't. Are you sure you wouldn't like to go? I packed your favorites. Cold fried squirrel and fresh berries.”

Her sister laid a potato in a bowl. “I'm sure.”

Shrugging, Beth said, “All right. I'll tell Gray Eagle you sent greetings.”

Joanie scrambled to her feet. “Gray Eagle?”

Wearing her most innocent look, Beth said, “Why, yes. I'm taking lunch to Gray Eagle and Pierce.”

“I'll go.”

Where did my resolve to keep the two apart go?
Beth wondered. She not only was encouraging the attraction, she was actually feeding it. Yet she knew why her reservations about Gray Eagle failed to hold. She'd seen the gentle care he had for Joanie. Always kind, comforting. Every day he and Joanie went for a walk, and every day her health improved. She still coughed a little, but not the wracking spasms that seemed as though they would tear her body apart. His company did Joanie a world of good, and Beth couldn't begrudge her sister's happiness.

Together they walked downstream to where Pierce and Gray Eagle were working. Rebuilding the village structures from the fire four days ago was in full swing in the bright weather. When Pierce glanced up and spotted the two sisters, he grinned.

Waving, Beth motioned to the loaded basket.

The men approached, their bodies glistening with sweat. Slipping on his shirt, Pierce eyed the packed basket hungrily. “What have we here?”

Gray Eagle sought Joanie's eyes. “Hello, Joanie Jornigan.”

“Good afternoon, Gray Eagle.” Both had shy smiles for the other.

Beth spread a blanket on the ground in the shade, and then she set out lunch, painfully conscious of Pierce's presence and how much she enjoyed his company. Over the last few days, it was beginning to make sense to her why some women felt that they needed a man in their lives. If all men were like Pierce and Gray Eagle, the world wouldn't be so bad. But fanciful thoughts about the captain and scout were useless. Even if Gray Eagle could overlook Joanie's illness, and Pierce was a different kind of a man than she'd ever encountered in her life, the handsome diversions would eventually be on their away.

Pierce blessed the food and they begin to eat. Beth's mind strayed to her earlier prayers. Evidently God didn't intend to release her or Joanie from Walt. Perhaps she'd been right all along about Him and her doubts about His existence were justified. Yet she hoped He had heard her pleas. What if she'd really listened when Joanie read the Bible to her aloud in the secrecy of their loft on moonlit nights? Clearing her throat, she asked, “May I ask a question?”