Hope (13 page)

Hope pleated her makeshift apron between her fingers. So he knew his Scriptures. He didn’t have to be so smart about it. “My aunt Thalia says if you have family, you’re rich. I wouldn’t trade my sisters for anything.”

Harriet hung her head. “Pride’s a powerful enemy, all right. But once ill feelings get started there’s no stoppin’ them—leastwise not in the Bennett family. Too much water over the dam—too many hurt feelin’s.”

Luther spread a biscuit with fresh cream butter, his features tight with emotion. “Harriet’s right. Lyndon can’t be reasoned with. Never could be. Once he’s got somethin’ in his craw there’s no gettin’ it out.”

They ate the remainder of the meal in silence. When Harriet got up to help with the dishes, Hope motioned her to remain seated.

Pouring Dan another cup of coffee, Hope met his gaze.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

She liked it when he smiled at her; actually, she liked everything about him.

The pig in the corner grunted and rolled over.

The pig she didn’t like.

Luther got up from the table and returned to the window. “Looks like the boys have bedded down for the night.”

“Is it safe to sleep with them camped so close by?” Hope scraped leftovers into the dog’s bowl.

“Oh, sure. Those boys like their sleep. But come daylight, they’ll be back at it.” Harriet stifled a yawn. “I’ll get some extra quilts. The old cabin gets chilly at night.”

Harriet returned with an armload of bedding and laid it on the table. “Take what you need for warmth, then use the rest for padding.”

“Thank you.” Hope smiled. “We’ll be comfortable.”

Harriet and Luther retired to their room, leaving Dan and Hope to stare at the stack of quilts.

Hope sighed. “Now what?” It wasn’t proper for an unmarried couple to sleep in the same room.

“Let’s see what morning brings. I don’t want to endanger our lives if we don’t have to.” He handed her a folded quilt.

Hope closed her eyes, weariness overtaking her. “What about the sleeping arrangements? You can’t go out to the barn.”

“Harriet and Luther are in the next room—we have chaperones. You can sleep on one side of the stove; I’ll sleep on the other. We won’t be able to see each other.”

Hope was too tired to argue. “I don’t know why this is happening to us.”

“Who would you like it to happen to?”

She could think of several right now. Big Joe at the top of the list. She looked up when Dan took her hands.

When he looked at her like this, all polite and gentlemanly, it was hard to remember that she was trying to reach John Jacobs—the man she was about to marry.

“I know you’re worried, but now’s the time to put your faith to the test, Hope. I’ll get us out of here, but I’m not going to do anything foolish.”

She sighed. “Papa said we were to never lose faith, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed—but this seems pretty hopeless. Lyndon’s sons are out there just waiting for us to step outside. Harriet and Luther may consider this just harmless fun, but those were real bullets they were firing at us. For all we know, Big Joe, Frog, and Boris have heard the commotion and have come to investigate—” She blinked back sudden tears. “And Harriet and Luther think we’re brother and sister.”

She felt anything but “sisterly” toward him.

“Don’t you believe God can and will take care of us?”

“I don’t know,” she said, closing her eyes. She felt like doubting Thomas, but right now her faith was pretty weak. “He can, but—”

Of course she believed God was able; she just wasn’t sure she was capable of trusting her life so completely to his care.

Dan blew out the lamp, and Hope lay on her pallet listening to him settle on the other side of the stove. He seemed so confident—so comfortable in his belief. He made her feel so ashamed of her doubts.

Hands tucked beneath her cheek, she lay in the dark, thinking about her life. The old sow snored, its fat sides heaving in and out with exertion.

Exactly what did she believe? Before she could decide, weariness claimed her.

Just before dawn, Dan gently shook her awake. “The old couple are stirring.”

It took Hope a moment to clear the cobwebs from her head. When she did, she got up and quickly folded her quilts. Running her fingers through her hair, she despaired of ever getting the tangles out. They had left the outlaws’ cabin so abruptly that Dan failed to bring Anne’s valise.

Hope fashioned a careless braid and coiled it at the nape of her neck and secured it. Shaking her skirts in a futile attempt at neatness, she started to the stove to stoke up the fire.

She ducked as a bullet whizzed by her head.

“Luther, they’re gonna break every window in the house,” Harriet complained, coming out of the bedroom with her gray hair streaming down her back.

“Howdy, young’uns!” Luther greeted as he ducked to one side of the window.

“Howdy.” Hope concentrated on dipping water from the stove reservoir for coffee.

They wouldn’t be leaving today.

Chapter Seven

The pig was restless. And Hope had had her fill of dealing with it. Three endless days and she’d had her fill of this senseless feud.

She had used water sparingly, but it was getting dangerously low, and the monotony of the meals was beginning to dim everyone’s appetite.

“Can’t we leave?” she asked Dan the third morning. She glanced toward Luther and Harriet’s closed door. She wouldn’t hurt the old couple’s feelings for the world, but this was their fight, not hers and Dan’s. The Lord knew they had enough problems without taking on more. “I can’t stand being cooped up in this tiny room any longer. And if I have to clean up after that pig one more time, we’re having pork for supper.”

Dan pulled on his boots, his face lined with concern. “This has gone on long enough. Watch for my signal today. Be ready. When I think it’s safe to make a run for it, we’ll go.”

“Thank goodness.” She lifted the curtain to peek out the window. “There’s not a soul out there this morning.”

“We need a horse.”

Hope stepped back to stir a pan of gravy bubbling on the stove. Sunlight streamed through the small window above the cookstove. This morning had been eerily quiet. The usual “I’m here” shots had yet to be fired. Yesterday the only real activity had come from the line of cottonwoods running parallel to the house and then only when Dan had recovered his saddle and put it in the barn. He seemed protective of the saddle, and she remembered that it held special significance for him.

She focused on the gurgling creek running alongside the cabin. If her eyes didn’t deceive her, that was watercress growing along the bank. She’d bet Aunt Thalia’s best broach that tender mushrooms grew in the shaded areas to the east of the stream and perhaps some poke greens at the edge of the clearing. Her mouth watered at the possibilities. For the past two days they’d eaten nothing but meat and potatoes.

Fresh greens sounded so tempting. The pig oinked and shifted. She turned to give it a sour look. Fresh greens with ham hocks.

Luther emerged from the bedroom and sat down at the table with Dan. Hope could hear Harriet moving around in the other room, pulling the quilt up over the sheets.

She had to get out of the cabin. Just for a moment—one blissful moment—when she could breathe fresh air. She was suffocating from all the closeness.

The men were up at the stove now, pouring themselves coffee. Taking a deep breath, Hope edged toward the back door.

The pig lumbered to its feet and nosed after her. She tried to nudge it away with the tip of her shoe, but the old sow was just as eager for freedom as she was.

Dan turned when he heard the door open.

She smiled. “Just stepping out for a moment.”

“Hope—don’t be foolish—”

Her words came in a rush. “I’ll only be gone a moment. There isn’t anyone out back right now—not one shot has been fired this morning.”

“You can’t be sure there’s no one around. I’ll go with you—”

“One shot, and I’m back in the house, I promise.” She quickly closed the door before he had time to argue.

Bounding off the porch, she glanced both ways for any sign of the other Bennetts. Songbirds chirped overhead, and fat robins hopped around pulling worms from the rocky soil. The pig, obviously with no consideration for her future, shot past and waddled straight for a sturdy-looking pen with a beckoning mudhole. Hope hurried ahead to unlatch the gate.

“Try to clean up a little,” she muttered.

Grunting, the old sow settled herself into the mire as Hope quickly swung the gate closed and fastened it with a loop of wire.

Hurrying to the edge of the trees, she quickly gathered greens, keeping one eye on the cabin. Dan would come after her if she stayed out too long, but the idea of fresh greens was just too tempting to pass up.

Using her apron to cradle the tender shoots, Hope poked around in the damp shadows, hoping to find some small, tender morels. She’d barely gathered a handful when she heard a twig snap to her left. She froze, her blood curdling in her chest.
How foolish of me to risk my life for some old greens,
she thought.
Now I’ve gotten myself into a pickle, and Dan will be upset with me.
He’d have every right to give her a tongue-lashing.

Crouching low in the shadows, she searched the undergrowth for some clue to the stealthy movements that continued a short distance in front of her. Holding her breath, she prayed that an innocent woodland creature was causing the soft rustlings. She’d even welcome a skunk. That would be preferable to a Bennett boy with a shotgun in his hand.

The sounds stopped, and Hope’s heart thrummed. A face materialized, not five feet from where she stooped. She strained to make out its features. Blood pounded in her ears. Was it a bear? No, it wasn’t an animal, nor was it one of the Bennett boys—it was a girl.

Caught by surprise, the two women stared at each other. It took a moment for Hope to summon the courage to speak. Then her voice came out in a minuscule squeak.

“Hello . . . I’m Hope. Who are you?”

The startled girl didn’t answer; she simply stared like a doe caught in a rifle sight. Her elfin features were white with fright, her black dress dirty and unkempt.

“Don’t be frightened—I won’t hurt you.”

The girl’s eyes were the color of green grass.

Smiling, Hope extended her hand. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Fawn. Fawn Bennett.”

One of Lyndon’s children. Luther’s niece.

“Lyndon Bennett’s daughter?”

“Yes’um.” She glanced toward the stand of trees. “I’m the baby—only I ain’t no baby no more. I turned thirteen last month—I’m a woman now.”

“What are you doing out here, Fawn?”

Her face turned defensive. “Brought my brothers some biscuits and bacon from home. They sent me around back to watch the house whilst they et.”

Hope turned to look toward the cabin. No sign of Dan yet. “Your brothers are still out here?”

The girl flashed a quick grin. “Yes’um. My brothers ain’t too bright, but they hide real good.” She darted a quick look toward the trees, then back to Hope. “You’d better go. They might shoot you.”

Startled, Hope started back toward the house, then paused and turned around. “Do you think they’d honestly shoot me?”

The girl thought about it. “Naw. They jest want to skeer you, liken they do Uncle Luther and Aunt Harriet. I best be goin’. They wouldn’t want me a jawin’ with ya.” The young girl turned to leave.

“Wait,” Hope whispered. “Can we talk a minute?”

The girl looked doubtful, then gestured for Hope to follow her. A moment later Hope entered a small clearing to the east of the cabin. An abundance of mushrooms grew in the shadows of a fallen tree. She quickly gathered an apron full.

“It’s lovely here.”

Fawn shrugged. “I like it. Makes me feel close to the Almighty when I’m here.”

“Tell me about the feud.” Hope set the apron containing mushrooms and greens on the ground, then settled on a rock.

Fawn paced the clearing, apparently uneasy with the arrangement. Her eyes darted back and forth as if she expected her brothers to burst out of the brush any minute. “What about it?”

“Don’t you think it’s silly? It’s senseless for families to be shooting at each other.”

The girl turned to look at her. “It’s always been this way. Since before any of us young’uns was born.”

“How sad. I’m sure it must be hard to live with such hostility.”

The girl’s shoulders lifted with acceptance. “Every few weeks or so, Pa’ll swipe something from Uncle Luther, and Uncle Luther will steal somethin’ back. It ain’t real pleasant.”

“How long does this go on?”

“Until they get back whatever the other took.”

Hope couldn’t imagine such a dreary existence. “Hasn’t anyone thought to settle the problem?” Seemed easy enough to sit down and talk it through, pray for forgiveness—try to respect the other’s rights.

Fawn’s smile was fleeting. “I’d think so, but Pa won’t hear of it. Ma’d like to be friends with Aunt Harriet. She gits real lonely. This fightin’ seems ta be the only way they kin talk to one another.”

What an interesting thought. “That’s too bad.”

“Yes’um. Shore nuff is.”

“So you would like to see this end?” Hope said softly.

“Yes’um—real bad. But it don’t never seem likely.”

Hope was drawn to the girl. For one thing, she seemed the only person in the Bennett family with common sense. For another, she was a lovely waif who seemed at odds with her destiny.

“Then perhaps we can do something about it.”

The girl stared at her as if Hope had suddenly grown two heads.

“What kin we do?”

“Does your family believe in God?”

The girl’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “Ain’t got no church round here, but a preacher comes round once a month and holds a meetin’ at somebody’s house.”

“Well, my papa was a great one for reading the Bible. He had Scripture for every problem.”

Fawn’s lips curved in a near smile. “Think he’d have one for this?”

Hope nodded. “Most assuredly, if he were alive. He died a few months back.”