Dangerous Heart (14 page)

Ginger pulled her hands away from his, leaving his palm exposed to the cold air. “I'm sorry, Grant,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I'm so sorry. Please, just let me go now.”

Flapping the reins, she nudged the oxen on. Grant could easily have caught up with her, but his feet remained planted where he stood, his legs paralyzed. How could he have been so blind? So stupid? There was no doubt that Web's gang of outlaws had been the ones that killed Sarah, but even faced with this horrifying reality, he couldn't muster anger. Or any emotion, really. All he felt was numb.

He paid little attention to the commotion going on at the front of the wagon train as he staggered like a drunkard back to his tent. Whatever it was, they'd have to face it without him. He simply had no more to give.

Ginger almost didn't recognize the outlaw camp as she pulled the reins and halted the oxen. The stench and clutter from a few days ago were gone, and instead, there seemed to be a sense of order. She grinned to herself, imagining Miss Sadie organizing the cleanup effort and demanding help from anyone able to stand on his feet.

Miss Sadie straightened up from her place bent over the fire and headed toward the wagon. Her face nearly melted in relief to see Ginger back. “Thought you'd taken down with cholera, gal. According your pa, you were so sick, the doc had to carry you to your tent. You got well might-fast. Not that I'm complaining.” She grinned, but it was a tired smile. Ginger noted the shadows ringing her eyes. Now that she was back, Miss Sadie could rest a little.

“Grant says it was just a weak stomach and exhaustion.” She gave a sheepish grin. “Too many smells all mixing together at once. I couldn't help it.”

Miss Sadie chuckled and followed her to the back of the wagon. “Well, you're not the first person to lose a meal that way.”

“I guess.” Ready to put the entire incident behind her,
Ginger looked past Miss Sadie. The camp seemed deserted. “Where's Yuley?”

“Off yonder, attending to the wood.”

Ginger lowered the tailboard and turned to Miss Sadie. She leaned against the wagon and gave her full attention. “Thank goodness he's pulled through.”

“Yep. God looks out for those that can't look out for themselves.”

“How about Mr. Harrison and Web?” She gave a short laugh. “I didn't figure Web would be much help, but I thought for sure Mr. Harrison would be working up a storm like he does around our camp.”

“Who do you think cleaned up the bulk of the mess around here and set fire to the burn pile?”

Ginger gave a shrug. “I don't know. Yuley?”

“Honey, no matter how sweet Yuley is, I wouldn't hand him a flint. He'd be likely to burn down the whole camp and every tree for a mile in every direction.”

“Well, then, where are Web and Mr. Harrison?”

Jerking her thumb toward the tent, Miss Sadie's eyes grew somber and she shook her head. “Charles came down with it this morning. I thought he looked a little peaked yesterday, but you never can tell for sure with a man that's not your own.”

Dread bubbled in Ginger's stomach and weakened her knees. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Poor Mr. Harrison.”

“Poor Amanda Kane,” Miss Sadie said with another shake of her gray head. “Charles told me they're planning to get married at Fort Boise. His main concern is that she might return to the laudanum if he doesn't pull through. She's lost
so much in the last few months. Her share of sorrow. Almost more than her share.” She paused, then scrutinized her. “You haven't asked about Web.”

“What about him?” She frowned. “He doesn't have cholera too, does he?”

“Web's ailing, but not from cholera.”

Relieved that he wasn't suffering the deadly disease, Ginger couldn't hold back the short sarcastic laugh. “Then what's he ailing from? Too much liquor and not enough sleep?”

A scowl pinched Miss Sadie's face. “You could use a little more respect when you talk about your pa, you know.”

Again, Ginger couldn't keep a straight face. “If I had any for him, I might use it,” she retorted. “Too bad I'm fresh out.” She lowered the tailboard on the wagon and started pulling on Miss Sadie's tent. “Don't worry about Web. Just let him sleep it off, and he'll wake up ready to drink some more. Hide his bottle, or you won't get a lick of work out of him.”

“It might interest you to know that he wasn't drinking. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen hide nor hair of a bottle of anything. It's a lot more serious than that.”

Something in the sound of her voice made Ginger stop and pay attention. “Well, what is it then?”

“I'm not a doctor, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's suffering from a wasting disease. He's all the time doubled over and favoring his right side.”

Ginger frowned, remembering. In her mind's eye, she could picture Web bending over and pressing his hand to his side, sweat beading his brow as he fought the pain. She nodded. “He gets sick from time to time, doesn't he? I'd for
gotten.” She squinted at Miss Sadie as she realized how sober the old woman was. “Is he dying?”

“I've seen this type of illness before, and the poor person hardly ever makes it. Sometimes they might last a good while…months, maybe, but after a time, they pass on.”

Stunned, Ginger wasn't sure what to say. A world without Web? Granted, he didn't contribute much of anything. At least not enough to balance out the things he took, but still…

Miss Sadie gathered up the tent stakes. She stood with her arms full and sought Ginger's gaze. “You know what worries me the most?”

Trying to come to grips with her own feelings about Web's illness, Ginger shook her head.

“If that man breathes his last breath with his soul as black as tar, he'll burn sure as that fire over there.”

“Burn?” Alarmed, Ginger's gaze shot to the burn pile at the edge of camp. Then she realized it was a spiritual matter. “Oh, you mean in hell?” The situation was hopeless. Web would never give up his wicked ways. “Oh, Miss Sadie. Web's been thieving and lying practically all his life. How's he going to give it all up in time to make it to heaven when he passes on? It'll take him a hundred years to make up for all the wrong he's done.”

“He could never make up it.”

“Well, then I guess there's no point in telling him what to expect when he dies.” Ginger shook her head, truly sorry for Web. “I wish he'd changed his ways when he was young like I did.”

Surprise lit Miss Sadie's eyes. “What are you saying?”

For some reason, Ginger felt shy about sharing her new life with Miss Sadie. She wasn't ashamed. Not by a long shot. Only, it was still new, and she felt like keeping it between her and God for a while. But now that she'd opened her trap and made Miss Sadie curious, she didn't really have a choice. She ducked her head and averted her gaze. “This morning, I went up where Sam was holding the service.”

Miss Sadie expelled a breath. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Land sakes, are you telling me you went to the altar and prayed for forgiveness today?”

“Yes. Buddy did, too.”

Miss Sadie shook her head. “Well, if that doesn't beat all. I've pretty nearly worn my knees out praying for your soul, and God goes and draws you on a day I can't witness the blessed event.” She gave a little huff. “How do you feel? Different?”

“Yes. And the same in a lot of ways.”

“You're not the same. Not even a little. When Jesus comes, He makes you over. You're like a newborn baby without one little sin. Well, maybe except the crack about your pa and the whiskey earlier. You need to show more respect. The Bible says so. Even a pa like the one you have deserves the honor that comes from being a parent in the first place.”

“You're making that up.” Ginger couldn't even imagine. Didn't God know Web? How was she supposed to respect a liar and a thief? A man that dragged his children along while he robbed trains and stagecoaches and banks? Surely Miss Sadie was mistaken. “How could the Bible say I have to respect Web?”

“Well, it doesn't exactly mention Web by name, but it says
to honor your parents so that you don't die before your time. And if you do, things will go all right for you in your life.”

Ginger released a sigh. “I don't know anything about God. How does a person ever really know Him?”

“You'll learn. I'll teach you as much as I can, but mostly it comes from reading your Bible and praying. We learn God's character as we see His word come true in our lives.”

“Like what?” Ginger had thought the Bible held a lot of rules. But the way Miss Sadie spoke, her voice soft and loving, made Ginger wish she owned a Bible herself.

“For instance, the Bible says when a person is in Christ, he's a new creature, old things are passed away, like we just said, and all things are new.” She demanded Ginger's gaze with her own. “How do you feel different since you asked forgiveness and made the decision to become one of God's family?”

A slow smile spread across Ginger's face. “I guess like you were sayin', I feel new. Like a different person.”

“There you go. You've just come face-to-face with the heart of God. If His Word says it, you can believe it. Even if you didn't feel it, it would still be true.”

The very thought made Ginger go warm all over. She'd never really known anyone that always kept his word. Even Clem had gone and died, instead of taking her and Buddy out west. Life so far had been full of disappointments. But, like a flint, something inside of Ginger sparked hope. And that hope had just grown into the smallest flicker of flame.

“The first thing I'm going to help you study is the grace of God,” Miss Sadie said with a smile. “You need to understand that you can't ever make up for sins. Not with God. All you
can do is repent and accept His forgiveness and believe that He won't remember them.”

“How can God not remember? If He's God, He knows it all.”

“He forgets because he chooses to. Right in the Bible, He says he blots out our sins for His own sake and doesn't remember them. It's the same as when you rub a bar of lye soap across a pair of old trousers and scrub until whatever it is you've gotten into comes off. It's gone. And by the time you put those trousers on again, you don't even remember the stain.”

While Ginger tried to wrap her mind around this new concept, she remembered something Miss Sadie had said about Web. “That's what you mean when you said Web couldn't make up for his wickedness, either.”

“No one can. Not the most blessed saintly woman or the blackest heart on earth.”

“Maybe so with normal folks. But Web'll never give God a chance like I did.”

“Once upon a time, there were folks who said the same thing about you, my dear.”

Heat crept to Ginger's face. She cleared her throat. “Where do you want the tent?”

Miss Sadie pointed to a flat spot not far from the men's tent. “Over there.”

“You sure? That seems a little close to be proper.”

A good-natured smile tipped Miss Sadie's lips at Ginger's teasing tone. “With an old lady like me in your tent, it'll be plenty proper.”

“With my rifle next to me it would be, anyway.”

They made short work of putting up the tent. Ginger thought Miss Sadie looked mighty tired. “I take it the men are all sick now?”

“They're getting better, though. Elijah's asking for you to join him as soon as you get back.”

“Asking for me?” Ginger gave a frown. “I wonder why.”

Miss Sadie shrugged. “He didn't say.”

“Is he in the tent?”

“Yes, but you're not going in there. He should be well enough tomorrow to sit up out here awhile.”

“Fannie and Blake sent you a bearskin, so I'm going to make you a pallet inside the tent, and I think you ought to sleep for a while.”

The older woman pressed her fists into the small of her back and nodded wearily. That surprised Ginger. She figured she'd have to argue for a good five minutes to get the stubborn woman to take a break.

Within a few minutes, with strict instructions that she was not to go near the men's tent, Miss Sadie collapsed onto the soft pallet Ginger had made with special care.

It felt strange, eerie even, for Ginger to be in this camp while the men lay sick in one tent and Miss Sadie, exhausted from days of giving everything she had to the sick, in another. Ginger unhitched the oxen. After hobbling them, she wandered to the campfire and lifted the coffeepot, glad that there was at least a full cup left, even if it was the bottom of the pot. Alone, she felt at a loss. The pot was full of the soup and another of stew, so there was no need to cook. She felt faintly disappointed. Cooking was one of the few domestic
chores where she excelled. She'd been doing all the cooking for Web's gang since she was thirteen years old. Well, Miss Sadie would be wanting coffee when she woke later, so Ginger could at least get some to boiling.

Filling the dipper with water from the bucket next to the fire, she slowly filled up the pot, barely paying any mind to the task at hand. Her thoughts turned to the conversation she'd had with Miss Sadie. If the woman was right, then God didn't remember that Ginger had joined the wagon train bent on revenge against Grant. The problem was that
she
remembered. And Grant had a right to know. He couldn't go on having ideas that he might want to court her and most likely marry her, when Ginger knew it would never be possible. Even if she loved him as much as she'd once hated him, it still wouldn't work.

Especially once he discovered who had provided the decoy that day. She had stood in the road, flagged down the stagecoach and had cowered behind a tree until she'd seen her brother, Clem, shot from his horse.

No. God might not remember it, but Ginger did. And once Grant became aware of her place in his wife's death, he'd never love her again.

But that was a chance she'd have to take. She wouldn't start out her new life by holding onto a lie. She just couldn't.

Thankfully, there was no time for her to mull it over any more, because Yuley crashed through the perimeter trees, his arms filled with a load of wood. He stumbled under the weight and almost dropped his burden. Ginger hopped up and hurried to help him. His eyes were still dark and sunken in, much like Buddy's, but clearly, his strength was return
ing. He grinned broadly, showing only a few teeth left in his mouth. “I'm glad to see you, Miss Ginger!”

“I'm glad to see you up and about, Yuley. How you feeling?”

“Better. I thought I was going to die like Dale did. You want to see where we buried him? You never got to say goodbye.”