The image in front of him offered a stark contrast. Riding ahead of them on the trail was the family with the caped woman. Four people, two horses for riding, and two horses carrying their belongings. And although their midday respite was more than an hour done and passed, the same two adults rode the mounts. The same two, it seemed, who always rode. Meanwhile, the caped young woman and a small child, perhaps four or five in age, walked day in and day out. Were they servants? Their sluggish steps and hunched shoulders hinted of a life of drudgery. Did the child belong to the caped woman? Was the sin of bearing a child out of wedlock what caused her to hide away and keep to herself?
Even so, no matter the circumstances, it was not right that they should walk hour upon hour in this heat while the other two rode. Why had Jacob never noticed this injustice? Or never took it to heart as he did now?
If the woman was the couple’s servant, he had little right to intervene. But she was a human being. Did she not deserve a measure of respect? Her feet were likely bloodied and blistered by now. The pain the child must be in…so unnecessary when she could easily ride double without putting strain on the horse.
“Just a moment, brother.” Jacob excused himself from Joseph’s one-sided conversation and rode ahead. After asking his gray for a trot, he easily caught up with the other family. He guided his horse over next to the grass, past the little girl and the caped woman who walked side by side. Then, because the man rode a little ahead of his wife, Jacob was able to come up alongside him. He tipped the brim of his hat in greeting. “Good evening. How are you and your family on this fine day?”
The man slid dark eyes in his direction. “We are well.” His tone was even and measured. “And you?”
“Good. Good. Mighty fine weather we are having.” Jacob grinned broadly, laying on the cordial hospitality.
“A might bit warm, I would say.” Despite the man’s words, his voice was as cold as ice. Jacob’s smile nearly faltered.
“True enough. But at least we are not plagued by rain.” He mustered up some of his brother’s optimism. Every time he complained of the heat, Joseph pointed out that it could be raining. And as much as it crawled under Jacob’s skin, it was a valid point, for traveling in driving rain was perhaps the least preferable condition of travel they had experienced. Eventually, the continual pelting of water seemed to bore right into a person.
“Yes. I will give you that. Is there some way in which I might help you?”
Now Jacob frowned. Straight to the point. The man did not wish to be bothered, and how could he blame him? “No. No, sir. I only wanted to offer my assistance. I noticed you have fewer mounts than people and thought to offer up my own horse for a time. My legs could use a stretch.”
The man eyed him. “We have no need of an additional mount.”
Jacob glanced back toward the two who trudged behind the man’s wife. Though the woman carefully kept her head down, her ear was cocked in his direction. Meanwhile, the girl watched him with wide blue eyes, as though he held the world in his hands. Jacob took a deep breath at the ache that filled his chest.
“Perhaps the young girl could ride with me, then?”
“She can walk.” The man’s voice was clipped, his patience having run dry.
“Yes, sir.” Jacob pulled his mount to a halt and allowed the family to move on ahead. He watched their retreating backs while waiting for his own family to catch up. Meanwhile, a fiery itch started at the bottom of his feet and slowly worked its way all the way up the back of his neck, as though someone had set those fire ants that lived in Europe loose within his clothing.
Not a bit about the situation set right with him. Jacob clenched his jaw as the caped woman’s petticoats swish to and fro with each step, the hem of the outer garment covered in a layer of dust and debris. One way or another, he had to find a way to intervene on her behalf.
Dawn resisted the urge to follow the man with her gaze and instead kept it trained on the brown rump of her stepmother’s horse. It was unmistakable, though, that he was the one from the night before. His voice gave him away. When he caught her in the clearing, he only uttered a single word, but it had penetrated the deep, dark night and settled into her mind. There was something unmistakable about it. The timbre. The concern. It warmed a forgotten place within her heart.
But why had he only now approached her stepparents? After more than a month on the trail, being made to walk while they rode. Why did it take a chance encounter for him to be concerned? Then again, why was no one else concerned? Because, so often, people lived in their little worlds, focused only on their own needs and wants.
Dawn bit her lip. Mary’s uncle would not be that sort, would he? Connection, though, such as blood ties or a chance encounter, had the power to break through a person’s tendency toward selfishness. At least, she prayed it would be so. For he was their only hope.
Dawn stole a glance at Mary. The girl’s mouth was crimped and her steps stiff, but she did not utter a word of complaint. The poor child had already learned to take what was dealt her in the two years that their stepparents had been married. ’Twas a shame. Half of Mary’s brief life had been spent in servanthood, with no chance to play or be a child. But Dawn was doing her best to see that changed.
Sweat trickled down the sides of Dawn’s forehead and between her bosoms. The humid heat of the day was made worse by the cloak she wore to hide her birth defect. Not only that, but her feet bore blisters and bruises, which protested with each step she took. Still, she breathed in deep breath after deep breath, focusing on the plants and animals around her rather than her discomfort. It was a trick her father had taught her as a young girl.
When snide remarks about the absence of her left hand were made, he instructed her to turn the other cheek and search for another beautiful creation of the Lord’s. Though any belief that she was beautiful had died with her parents, her faith in the Lord’s handiwork had not. Within nature, one could always find beauty, if they only sought it.
As now, growing at the edge of the forest a few feet in front of her, was a large plant with long white plumes. To most, it was a wild bush to be ignored, but to her it was goat’s beard, Aruncus dioicus. Dawn smiled to herself, admiring the feather-like flowers, which beckoned for her touch. If only they were not on her left side.
Father had taught her the scientific names for a plethora of plants and animals. Many she had yet to encounter in person, only through books. As a child, the elaborate words spoken in his deep baritone had proved enchanting. Even now, the sound echoed in her mind and brought her comfort. At the time, life had seemed a grand adventure with a world of opportunity waiting at her fingertips.
How wrong she had been.
The distinct sound of horse’s hooves trotting up the path behind her pulled Dawn from her musings. Her shoulders squared, and she reached for Mary’s hand. She gripped the child’s fingers as the hoofbeats slowed to a walk behind her. Had the man from the night before returned again? If so, why? Was it pure concern that propelled him?
“Ahem.” The man’s throat cleared. “Ma’am.”
The warmth in his voice nearly caused her to turn without thinking, but she looked to her stepmother instead. The woman continued to face forward, her back stiff as she rode in the saddle.
“Ma’am…I mean, you, walking here…”
He was speaking to her?
