Glory (10 page)

The girls stared at him in disbelief, but the set of his granite jaw effectively stated his case. Eyes downcast, the girls rose and shuffled toward the wagon.

Ruth hung behind, whispering to Glory. “I’ll leave you dry clothes and food. Please, think it over and change your mind. You must walk by faith, Glory.”

“How do I do that?” she questioned, puzzled.

“By being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see.”

“I’m not so trusting as I can do that.” Glory was deep in thought. “Leastways, not right now.”

“Sure you can! You have to practice at it. Like putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that when you do so, eventually you’ll get to where you’re going. The more you practice walking by faith, the more natural it will become. Pretty soon, it will get downright easy.” Ruth’s
eyes reflected deep compassion. “Besides, it’s impossible to please God without faith.”

“Oh.” Glory’s mind was bombarded with weighty thoughts. Poppy’s gold. Crazy Amos. And the voice in the darkened alley echoing,
“You killed Charlie! You’ll hang for this, you hear me? You’ll hang!”
Glory didn’t even think to ask who this God was that Ruth spoke of.

“Please think it over and change your mind. You can’t look after yourself. Come to Colorado with us. Please, Glory!”

“I can’t, Ruth, but thank you just the same.” Glory shot an unfriendly look in Jackson’s direction, which he shot back.

Ruth hurried to the wagon, and as promised, she set a few items on the ground before climbing onto the seat to take the reins.

As the wagon rumbled over the hill, Glory pushed herself to her feet, frowning at her boots that squished with muddy water. It was then that she realized her rifle was missing. She turned to stare into the dark, surging waters and remembered. When she’d slipped underwater and felt the undertow, she’d released the Hawkins to fight her way to the surface with both hands. It was long gone now, downstream by a mile at least. She was alone and unarmed.

Defeat washed over her. How long could she last without Jackson’s protection?

Chapter Six

A few nights later, Jackson sat opposite the fire, deep in thought. The damp air held a renewed promise of rain. Ruth picked up the plate of fried apple pies and walked around the fire. “Have another one, Jackson. You only ate two at supper.”

“Thanks, Ruth. I’ve had enough.” He got up and handed her his cup with a warm smile. “I have some business to take care of. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He picked up a lantern to take with him.

Lily frowned. “Where’re you going?”

“Be back in a few minutes, girls. Nothing to worry about.”

Ruth followed him to the clearing where he proceeded to saddle the horse. Worry dotted her youthful face. “Where are you going at this hour?”

“Don’t worry, Ruth. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He dropped the leather strap through the cinch ring and drew it up tight, then mounted his mare, whirled her in a circle, and rode out of the clearing.

A shadow of the moon darted in and out of the clouds. The horse picked her way slowly through the overgrown path. Holding the lantern aloft, Jackson searched the bushes for the object of his nocturnal search. Glory still trailed the wagon, hanging back in hopes she wouldn’t be discovered. Was she playing some strange, childish game? Was she trying to get on his bad side? If she was, she was doing a fine job.

A deer darted out and leapt across a gully up ahead, momentarily spooking the mare, causing her to shy. Jackson tightened the reins in his left hand. “Easy, girl.”

Where was Glory hiding? She’d been on his tail for days, so where was she now? Was she crouched in a bush, hungry and scared? The mare settled down, and he gently nudged her flanks. He’d seriously considered letting her remain out there tonight. He’d asked her twice—no, three times—to join them, but she refused. If the fool girl was headstrong enough to refuse his help, he didn’t have time or patience to worry about her.

That’s what he’d considered, but his conscience wouldn’t let him do it. Rain was brewing, and she didn’t have a lick of shelter. The nights were unusually cool for early August, and she had no protection from the elements. She seemed proud of her self-preservation skills, but he doubted that she’d ever had to use them for an extended period of time.
The old hermit had kept her sheltered, teaching her only the basics of self-survival, certainly not enough to remain on her own in the wilderness. She’d proved that when she’d taken a river dunking.

Weather could turn on you fast this time of year, and she barely had adequate clothing. Chances were, she had a minimal food supply, if any. The way he figured it, the Lord had just appointed him Glory’s keeper, whether he liked it or not. And he didn’t like it—not one bit.

Lord, I’m not questioning your judgment; I’m asking for patience. Patience to take care of these women and get them safely to Denver City. If you want me to look after Glory, grant me fortitude, because right now my supply is running low. Amen.

The moon disappeared behind a storm cloud, and the night was blacker than sin. Holding the lantern aloft, he scanned the thicket. If he yelled out, he’d startle her. She’d bolt, and he’d never find her. He didn’t want a death on his hands, though he was tempted to wring her neck like a Sunday chicken. Why was she being so stubborn about joining them? He didn’t need a sixth girl to look after, but neither did he want Glory’s safety on his conscience.

Something darted across the road, and he hefted the light higher. The bushes rattled, then stilled. A deer? A two-legged one? He chuckled at his own humor. Glory was anything but funny to him. He was using valuable sack time to hunt her, and he didn’t like it.

Nudging his horse’s flanks, he eased closer, his hand resting on the butt of a Winchester. He reined in, listening. Silence. Clucking softly under his tongue, he squeezed the mare’s flanks. The horse took another step.

Stillness surrounded him.

His eyes skimmed the darkness, instinct telling him that she was there. He tightened his thighs, and his horse took another step.
Playing games, sweetheart?

Minutes crawled by. The rustle of leaves and the sound of his own breathing filled his senses.

Flanking his horse, he burst into the bushes. Glory screamed and bolted. Hoisting the lantern higher, he threaded the mare through the underbrush, following the sound of trampled thicket. Glory, spooked now, ran straight for a clearing, and he had her.

He wheeled his horse and galloped back to scoop her squirming form up with one arm. Madder than a hornet, words spilled out of her mouth no lady would be caught dead uttering.

“Put me down!” She took a swing at him and missed as he cantered back to the overgrown path. She hauled off and swung again, letting him have it. This time she connected. Tightening his hold, he grunted, wondering what he’d done to deserve this.

“Settle down! You’ve been a nuisance for days, lady. You’re sorely testing my patience.”

“You saw me!”

Yes, I saw you,
he silently mimicked. Watched her trail the
wagon three days, and it had gotten on his nerves. “You’re going to get yourself hurt out here alone.”

“I can take care of myself—” She squealed as he hoisted her up in back of him and rode toward camp.

When the mare galloped into the camp, the girls ran to meet them.

“Glory?” Mary ran alongside the mare, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Don’t run, Mary,” Glory warned. “It’ll make you cough!”

Jackson reined in his mare and reached back to give Glory a hand down. She slid to the ground, shooting him a resentful look. Mary, Ruth, Lily, and Patience gathered around; Harper waited close to the fire.

Mary was breathless now. “Glory? What in the world?”

Glory glanced at Jackson, and he shook his head. The girls weren’t aware that she’d been trailing them. They’d assumed she’d traveled on alone; he’d let them think what they wanted. They couldn’t spend their time worrying about a pigheaded girl, and neither could he.

Glory nodded, her eyes reflecting her gratitude. He nodded back. He’d spared her one embarrassment; it was up to her to tell the girls why she was hanging back.

Lily alleviated the need for an immediate explanation. “You’ve changed your mind! You’ve decided to come with us after all.”

Glory looked at Jackson. “I’ve decided to come with you after all!” Glory glanced at Ruth, her smile was a tad sheepish. “Figure this is as good a time as any to start walking by faith.” Draping her arm around Lily, she walked the young woman back to the campfire.

Lily smiled, discreetly squirming out of the hold. “I’m so glad; we’ve been worried about you.”

Ruth’s face lit with elation. “I’ll read you the book of Hebrews. It’s full of Scriptures about faith.”

Glory nodded in agreement. She hadn’t meant to stretch the truth to Ruth. And maybe in the long run, she wouldn’t be. She’d sure give this faith thing a try. Especially if it meant having Ruth read to her from that mysteriously wonderful book.

“I wasn’t worried,” Harper announced. “Should have come with us in the first place. Knew you’d have to join up eventually.”

Glory shrugged off the remark. “Worried? About me?” She laughed, still avoiding Jackson’s eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she crowed, “I can take care of myself.”

Jackson handed the mare’s reins to Patience. “Ruth, get Glory a plate of supper, please.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” The girl hurried off to do the wagon master’s bidding.

Jackson listened to the girls’ chatter as he unsaddled his horse and stored the rifle in the back of the wagon. Glory
had been fortunate; he hoped she realized it. Tomorrow he’d have a talk with her and get the rules straight: As long as she traveled with him she’d give up her independence. And she was going to travel
with
them—no more hanging back and drinking a gallon of muddy river water. She wasn’t going to like the rules, but then he didn’t like the extra trouble. Now he had six women to safely deliver before the first snow.

All she had to do was follow orders.

Seemed to him he’d gotten shortchanged.

“Mr. Lincoln?”

He turned to see Glory standing in the shadow of the clearing. Her face was dirty, and she had corn-bread crumbs around her mouth. He turned back to the horse. “It’s late. You’d better get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir . . . I’m going, but I was thinking maybe I’d better thank you first.”

“No need for thanks. I’d have done it for anyone.” He didn’t want her thinking she was special; she wasn’t. She needed a bath and was ornery and more trouble than she was worth. She was older than the others, maybe had as much as three or four years on them, but that still put her young enough to be trouble. All he needed was to get personally involved with her or any of the girls. He’d seen the interested look in Ruth’s eyes and had done everything he could to erase it. Ruth and the others had husbands waiting for them in Colorado; he wasn’t the marrying kind. Ma had seen to that. When he’d been a kid, she’d run his pa off and denied Jackson the pleasure of a normal upbringing. The betrayal had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Glory stepped into the clearing, fishing in her right pocket. “If I’m going with you, then I’m going to pay my way.”

“No need—Tom Wyatt will pay your way when I deliver you.”

“Well—” she paused—“that’s the thing, Mr. Lincoln.”

“Thought I told you to call me Jackson.”

“It doesn’t feel right yet—when it does, I’ll do that, sir.”

He picked up a brush and began to curry his horse. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was upset, that’s all. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Go on to bed now.”

“Don’t have any hard feelings, sir.”

When she continued to stand there, he turned around to look at her.

“What if I don’t want a husband?”

“I’d say you’d better give it more thought. You got no kin and no way to support yourself. A husband’s not a bad idea at this point. A good man can give you a home and food on the table.”

“If I pay you to take me to Colorado, then I can make up my own mind whether I want such a man. Wouldn’t that work?”